It had been a while since this man, "The Source" had been to Brundisium, and if he had his wish he'd not be here today either. It was a grand place, certainly, filled with bazaars and shops, emporiums and baths and restaurants, places you could find pleasure in and never leave so long as you had coin, all over the place as far as the eye could see. But you could look at some of the people and wonder, how much of that merchant's smile has shark in it? And the citizenry looking at you like you're not much more than bags of money on legs. And the leaders?
Corruption isn't the word for it. These people come at corruption from the other side. and come out smelling like talendars. The only one that got where they were by anything remotely honest was the Administrator and even then only the form of the election was the honest part. If you have money, you can have clout here. Was the Administrator position for sale? The citizenry would rise up in revolt if it were openly said by those that handled the elections, but those same citizens were quite satisfied to know that the candidates spend huge amounts of money and trade goods to participate in the elections. They'd tell you, those election people, that the fees for the running are plainly posted, and if a candidate wanted to spend more on election business, tha's fine, and the citizens would stand there and glare at you for suggesting that it was less than honest.
The Source didn't wander through the city, he knew he was being watched from the moment he passed through one of the city's gates, his name and description writted down and a messenger sent ahead somewhere. Any shortcuts would imply that he reported to someone else, and there'd be noise and quite possibly pain if he were. It took time to travel through the streets; they were clean, you could almost eat your dinner off of them if you wanted, though the city guards would probably cane you for it. Everything was so bright, and from where he walked you could see the Thassa sparkling in the distance, and...yes the salt water purification plant was still there, large steam clouds blooming overhead and getting carried away overland by western winds.
As soon as he was within sight of the Administration cylinder a detatchment of soldiers marched through the crowd and surrounded him, not too gently taking him by the arms and escorting him inside and into a small anteroom outside the council chambers, and was briefly searched, his weapons and effects taken away and put into a box. He was even given a receipt for it all, though he had nowhere to put it now, so he tossed it into the box and waited. He was then taken through several hallways and stairwells, and into a room with a few chairs, a large table, a small tray with some cups and a pitcher of water, and not much else, and was pointed to a chair to sit on. He sat.
It was about an hour's wait when several people, two men and three women, one of the men being the Administrator of the city, came into the room, incliuding a kajira in grey, who immediately went to the pitcher and cups and began to silently pour the water and place the cups where people sat. None for me, the Source thought to himself, not enough cups. The rest of the free people sat except for the Administrator who took out a piece of paper, the same note he sent a few weeks ago, and dropped it into the Source's lap.
"What is this? We don't deal in mysteries. We want facts and numbers. You are vague in this missive. Explain this."
"It's not a mystery," the Source said as he picked up the letter. "I couldn't give you numbers because I wasn't there in Tyros. I only told you what I saw, and I don't think it's good news. That coin was a message. You've sent similar yourself to previous rivals. I think you--"
The Administrator cuts him off and asks "What about the pirates? Do you have their numbers? Dispositions? Are they in any sort of preparation mode? Are they even looking for help? Because from what we're learning, they're going to need it." The slave in gray moves near and holds out a cup of water and without even looking The politician takes it from the slave, tosses it back and tossesthe cup away, which gets caught neatly by the slave, and back to the pitcher for a refill. "You could have bathed before you came in here, you stink of the road."
"Bathing isn't an issue, and had I stopped somewhere along the way you'd have asked me why I wasted precious time getting here. I did that the last time you complained. As for what I sent you, I think you agree with my assessment. A lot of people are going to die, trade's going to get rough," at which word the word "rougher" is interjected by one of the women at the table and the Source continues, "and life in general is going to be just peachy for you because, and this is how I think things are going to go for you, you're going to wait until everyone's out on that big piece of water over there, and then you're either going to make some brilliant decision to attack someone from behind, perhaps hit someone's naval docks with some fire of your own, or charge some exorbitant fee for some halfassed rescue attempt. Or simply wait till its over and pick over the bones of a burned out husk while rubbing your hands in glee over all the free stuff you find, if the Cosians and their friends don't beat you to it."
The Administrator stood there for a moment, bemused by the options given, most of them had passed through his mind already, but a rescue? Why in the world would he do that? The coast would be a lot safer. No, no rescue. "You only state the obvious. Other things could happen as well but I'm not about to tell the likes of you. I'm sure you've been getting an eyeful where you are? We know you've been spending a lot more time there than you usually do in a city. What about local matters? Does the citizenry even have a clue?"
The Source shrugs unsure, "I don't think they know. Right now they've got some sort of problem with the kan-da growers, some of them are angry enough to attack people, though I can't say about what, so It's my belief that the general populace has other things on their minds. Random muggings and murder tend to keep the mind focused at home. Trade doesn't seem to have slowed much, if at all. Maybe this little emergency isn't happening any time soon? I don't think I'm wrong, though I admit I'd not want to be around when it did. I didn't leave anything out, or try to shroud anything more than what was necessary to retain secrecy. I really do think there's a problem, but it's beyond my abilities to fix. You have more resources than I do."
"I don't like this. One thing that annoys me is that none of these cities have approached us to warn us off, or offer some sort of bargain for inaction. It's common to do this if you're attacking one's neighbor. Are you sure you--yes, you're sure, you've said." The note is snatched back up and taken to the table and placed face down, and the politician leans on the table for a moment, thinking aloud: "Maybe they've got something else in mind. We're not really that far from that snakes nest of a city, maybe we're next? But no, that's not possible, we're much better defended." At which point he and his councilors begin talking, and after a minute says over his shoulder to the Source, "You may go for now, but expect another summons in the somewhat near future. We might have a task for you. Don't let me detain you."
The Source left the building escorted by the guards that led him in, stopping along the way to collect his possessions after a brief argument with a clerk that he didn't have the reciept because it was in the box, and would need to open the box to get it. The clerk tried to act snooty but the soldier in charge simply grabbed the box and shoved it into the Source's arms, and got him out of the building. The Source did eventually get himself a bath, pleasantly surprised it was on the city's money. After that, he dried, dressed, and started the long walk home. Hopefully it would be a long while, but not likely, before he had to come back.
