A Troubled Flock
Twelfth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
Ser Richard Lonmouth was not a man used to pleasant surprises. He expected most of them to come with too many teeth, claws, tentacles, or whatever the Hells was going to crawl out of the dark next. As terrible as those surprises were they were in some ways better than the second most likely sort he had encountered, damn fools who didn't have the sense to see that the king was the world's best chance to climb out of the shithole when he reached out a hand. Yet Lhazosh seemed blessedly bereft of either. He had not needed to draw his sword once since he and his companions had entered the city, to Oathkeeper's rumbling annoyance, and the rumors they were hearing about 'The dragon in the Sunset Lands' were mostly good if garbled and twisted in strange ways.
One dragon was much the same as another in the narrow dusty alleyways of Lhazosh and anything that troubled the Ghiscari was to be commended. Beneath conical copper roofs turned green with age like some strange old man's hat the Lhazareen brooded at the injustices done them, at the evils of a world turned only savage and cruel where their god preached the virtues of peace and endurance. The khalasars were gone, but now worse things haunted the night, most wandering across the plains, but there were tales of restless spirits slipping into lichyards and disturbing those buried therein.
"Fear of the unknown breeds anger as a threat that is known does not," Malarys had said, his words dry as a scribe's tally as he launched into a description of the major powers in the city, from the traditionalist craft guilds, to the more venturesome traders, and finally the 'Twin-headed Ram', the locals' strange double kingship. The Essarian mage was clever about a lot of things, not only sorcery, but by the gods he could probably make bedding three girls at once boring once he got going.
"I don't think the city is in danger of a coup like Qohor at least, given the locals' traditional way to deal with a quarrel," Teana interjected. "Of course, that's probably the reason why they were the Dothraki's major source of slaves with the Ghiscari looking to carry on the tradition. Picking up and leaving with your flocks may have been a good tactic three thousand years ago, but it makes no sense when the priests of the Great Shepherd blather about it now."
"Maybe it's not perfect, but it's a better place to build up from than how most of the world deals with conflict," Rina said softly as she handed out some strange red fruit she had picked up from one of the merchants hawking their wares in the street, 'pomegranates' Malarys called them, though the word in High Valyrian meant nothing to Richard.
The sound of chanting and beating metal drums interrupted the conversation. A small crowd of people had gathered in front of the oldest temple of the Great Shepherd in the city, mostly hurling insults, though a handful of them had brought rocks ."Boys with stones don't make fighters, no matter how strong their spirit," Richard said firmly. While he had neither the inclination nor interest to plot and scheme he knew fighting men, and these were not of that breed.
"I could not care less about their martial stature," Malarys waved off the concern. "In fact, I would prefer if they have none, what interests me is that they are organized, acting against the guilds, and not in awe of religious leaders. We can use that, either as a pressure point for the current authorities to accept annexation or the seeds of a new local elite."
"I'm more interested in their rumored mages... to no one's surprise," Lya said with a smile. Jests aside Richard liked what he saw of her. She had certainly grown from the awkward headlong girl he had worried about the king getting too close to in Braavos, and not just in that she could work magics that could devastate an army.
"There..." Teana pointed discreetly at a matronly woman garbed in undyed wool. She did not even look like she was properly part of the crowd, just an onlooker. Richard was not one to trust in appearances. There were more kinds of trickery in the world than the ones magic could see through, so he was not really surprised when the Volantine mage said. "Her shadow wavered. She is testing us I think..."
"Fascinating," Lya breathed. "I wonder if she is a true Shadow-weaver or someone who merely learned from them..."
Between that curiosity and Malarys' desire to test the waters with the rebels Richard had no doubt they had a few more days left in Lhazosh, a fact which he certainly had no objection to. Still, he kept his hand on the pummel of his sword.
OOC: A bit of a slow character piece since there was no conflict to cover. Hope it does not feel jarring contrasted to events elsewhere. 
