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Amol-Kalit was different to Kjaran.
So much had changed but the last time he'd been here was nearly a score of years ago. He'd been young then and loving life. Work was easy to come by and he'd pissed away plenty of gold and silver knowing that he'd easily make more by signing on with a company here or there. Now the land of a ten thousand kings was being slowly forged into one. He'd seen statues of their so called god-king and that same face stamped on the newer minted coins. All but the most stubborn seemed to be bending the knee and it was only a matter of time before that gaze turned south and east. He could sense the change on the wind, the Cortosi city-states varied between sending cautious tribute or panicked raising of troops.
And yet some things hadn't changed. The heat and smells he remembered, the oddly spiced food, the scented perfumes. That same fierce proud honour that they wore like armour. And there was still work. It was in the service of the empire but while they had managed to unite many of the cities, even this new lord could not eradicate the persistent banditry and endemic warfare that made up Amol-Kalit. The gods could have come again and there'd still be raids on caravans.
Ragusa's scale dwarfed most of its southern neighbours. He could spend hours wandering, admiring the alien architecture or sampling the sights and smells of the bazaar. But Kjaran was low on coin yet again and he'd signed on with a company to escort a caravan, even though it meant venturing out of the safety of the city and into the heat of the desert.
Kailyn
So much had changed but the last time he'd been here was nearly a score of years ago. He'd been young then and loving life. Work was easy to come by and he'd pissed away plenty of gold and silver knowing that he'd easily make more by signing on with a company here or there. Now the land of a ten thousand kings was being slowly forged into one. He'd seen statues of their so called god-king and that same face stamped on the newer minted coins. All but the most stubborn seemed to be bending the knee and it was only a matter of time before that gaze turned south and east. He could sense the change on the wind, the Cortosi city-states varied between sending cautious tribute or panicked raising of troops.
And yet some things hadn't changed. The heat and smells he remembered, the oddly spiced food, the scented perfumes. That same fierce proud honour that they wore like armour. And there was still work. It was in the service of the empire but while they had managed to unite many of the cities, even this new lord could not eradicate the persistent banditry and endemic warfare that made up Amol-Kalit. The gods could have come again and there'd still be raids on caravans.
Ragusa's scale dwarfed most of its southern neighbours. He could spend hours wandering, admiring the alien architecture or sampling the sights and smells of the bazaar. But Kjaran was low on coin yet again and he'd signed on with a company to escort a caravan, even though it meant venturing out of the safety of the city and into the heat of the desert.
Kailyn