Surprisingly, we only had another short five minute walk, or so, before we suddenly found ourselves staring down the trail at two oddly dressed strangers, though I guess, to them, we were the ones oddly dressed.
"Greetings to the High Lord!" Snapping to what I assumed was some foreign form of attention, the first gentleman quickly hopped off the path and stood straight as a board, with the long spear he was carrying clutched tightly, diagonally against his chest. Dressed in some sort of leather looking skirt, wearing leather sandals, and sporting a tightly trimmed beard and crewcut, he reminded me of some sort of Roman Legionnaire from the history books.
Too shocked by the fact that he was perfectly speaking our language, I stood shock still as he "Pssst" at the other guy and motioned with his head for him to follow suit.
"My apologies to the High Lord!" Hopping almost as if his feet were on fire, the second, much younger looking man, rushed to clear off the path and stand at the same odd attention as his older partner.
"My apologies, High Lord. He's young and learning. He meant no offense. I can have him disciplined when we return, if you wish," the older man – Guard?? – apologized profusely.
"Tha.. That won't be necessary," I assured him, waving my hand dismissively. What the hell is going on here?! Do I have a dimensional twin in this world? Is he some sort of important person? Obviously some sort of misunderstanding was taking place here, but *exactly* what was it? Is it beneficial for me to play along, or will it lead to me being arrested and charged with espionage or treason for impersonating some 'High Lord'?
"Is this the High Lord's first time here?" The older looking gentleman asked, not shifting his formal stance one bit. Apparently he was going to mention the youth's mistake anymore, since I was kind enough to dismiss it out of hand. At least, I *think* that's what he was doing – politely glossing over some sort of youthful faux pas.
"It.. is." I hesitated a moment to admit it, but then feared to deny it from the way we were dressed and our unfamiliar behavior. For all I knew, this guy was just testing me, fishing for information from some clueless invader on his watch. It didn't *seem* like that was what was happening, but I couldn't be *certain*.
"How can you tell?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"The High Lord's *shinta* is wearing clothes," the guard told me respectively, nodding with his head towards Vicky. "The beasts aren't allowed that here," he clarified. "Outside the travel zone they must be properly shackled and leashed."
"Ah… Is that so?" Glancing back at Vicky, I smiled diplomatically. Shinta? What the hell is a shinta?
"We can assist the High Lord with that, if you wish," the older gentleman told me politely. "Are you here to visit our fair city, or are you just passing through? If this one may be permitted to ask, that is."
"City?" What city? All I've seen so far are trees and bushes out here. And one simple stone road.
"Ah. The High Lord must simply be passing through," the man nodded, seemingly satisfied by my lack of knowledge.
"Allow me to tempt you, if you will, your High Lordship." Smiling slightly, the man's shoulders relaxed slightly and he somehow seemed more at ease all at once. What the hell was going on?!
"This is the travel zone for the fine city of An'kar, second-most jewel in the Ry'bar Kingdom," he explained politely. "We have some of the finest dining and luxury accommodations in the whole kingdom here, as well as extensive trading, entertainment, and business opportunities."
"If you desire, young High Lord, I can help you register at the main transfer station, and give you a *moonings* visitor's permit, so you can visit and see for yourself what all our city has to offer before you travel on to your destination."
"Umm…" I hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to answer.
"Your visit would be tax and tariff-free," he assured me, smiling brightly.
"Very well. Let's do that," I agreed, sighing lightly. Apparently, I'm now officially a visitor in the Other World!
Following along respectively behind the two guards, Vicky and I walked in silence for several uncomfortable minutes as we were led to a small gray stone building. "Come on in," the older gentleman motioned, respectively standing to the side of the open entranceway to let us pass first.
"Umm… Thanks?" Uncertain what the proper etiquette was, I led the way into the darkened… office building? Apparently, that's what this building is – some sort of small stone office building. The interior floor was made of the same white stone as the pathway which we'd been walking on, and the interior consisted of four plain desks, a dozen chairs or so, and a set of steps leading down into the darkness.
Sitting at the largest desk, which was off to the right of the entrance by itself, was an old gray-haired gentleman scribbling lazily at some sort of unrolled parchment. The top of his dark bronzed chest was bare and fully exposed, while his lower half was hidden beneath his desk, leaving me uncertain if he wore the same leather skirt and sandals as the others or not.
"Sargeant Briggs and Private Stratton reporting in, Captain!" As soon as he stepped into the room, the older guard – who I assume just identified himself as Sargeant Briggs – snapped to attention, facing the older gentleman sitting at his desk.
"Good. Good," the man muttered distractedly, never lifting his concentration from whatever deep secrets the rolled-up parchment held before him. "Was everything in order on your patrol? That seemed like a mighty short round," the gray-hair man muttered lightly.
"Sargeant Briggs and Private Stratton reporting contact with a High Lord farwalker, Sir!" The way this guy was still at attention, and the volume of his voice, I couldn't help but think that perhaps he had either worked his way up from a Drill Sargeant, or else he was still one.
"A High Lord?" Sitting bolt upright, the older captain dropped his quill and started first at Sergeant Briggs and then over at me, and then back and forth between us.
"My apologies! Oh, my humblest apologies! Please. Please sit." The captain motioned to a couple of chairs in front of his desk for me to choose to sit in.
"Umm… That's fine." Not wanting to increase the number of people with misunderstanding concerning us, I politely declined. "Sargeant Briggs knows what we need, and he's assured me that he can take care of our business. You don't need to trouble yourself on our account," I reassured him. "It's obvious you're already busy with something more important."
"Of course. Of course." The captains words remained cordial, but his face clouded slightly as he glared harshly back at the sergeant for a moment before telling him, "Well just don't stand there. Get on with it man. Don't keep the High Lord waiting."
"Yes, Sir!" Turning sharply on his heels, Sergeant Briggs marched over and sat down behind the seat of one of the other desks. "This way, your High Lordship, if you will." Ignoring the captain's dark look, he motioned for me to have a seat in front of his desk.
Sitting down, I slid the chair in close and leaned forward. "I'm not causing you issues am I?" I asked, conspiratorially, purposely quiet so the captain couldn't hear.
"No. Not at all," Sergeant Briggs chuckled, leaning forward himself to answer me. "We get paid a small commission on any purchases or sales that a farwalker does in town, if we can convince them to stop and look around for a while, rather than just passing through to their ultimate destination," he admitted freely with a smile. "Caps just jealous I'm going to process your visitor's permit and he's not."
"Well good. Good." Sighing with relief, I leaned back and relaxed a little better in the chair. As long as it wasn't trouble, all was good. "What exactly do you need me to do?" I asked, curious about this world's rules and procedures.
"Willy, go downstairs and fetch a proper shinta leash for the High Lord, and bring back the Orb of Truth. We'll be needing it," the sergeant commanded.
"Orb of Truth?" I asked, as the younger guard quickly moved past us and down the steps into the darkness.
"It's a simple item," Sergeant Briggs assured me, seeing my puzzled expression. "I basically just need to ask you two simple questions while your hand is on the Orb, and it'll verify the accuracy of your statements."
"Basically if I'm a crook or an ax-murdering cannibal," I guessed. "And…"
"And if you mean any harm to the kingdom, its citizens, or any member of the royal family," Sergeant Briggs supplied the other question for me, chuckling lightly. "Though to be honest," he admitted quietly, leaning back in conspiratorially, "I think it's just a waste of time and effort. No real assassin or usurper is going to place their hand on the Orb to be judged. They'd just sneak on by without the hassle."
"Bureaucracy at work," I told him. "It's all the same everywhere you go."
"Ain't that the truth!" Sergeant Briggs agreed amiably. "While we're waiting on old Pokey, let's go ahead and register that shinta of yours."
"Sure," I agreed shrugging, just going with the flow. "What do we have to do?"
"You need to strip her," Sergeant Briggs informed me, matter-of-factly. "We don't allow beasts to be clothed like humans. It goes to their heads," he told me, warningly.
"Easy enough," I assured him. Hell – there was barely any difference in naked and what she was wearing already for Vicky. "Vicky," I glanced over my shoulder to where she still waited patiently a step behind me. "You'll need to get undressed. You're not allowed to wear clothes in this land." No need to stir up any trouble before we even knew the lay of the land, if we could avoid it.
"Yes, Master," Vicky replied so softly that no one but me could possibly hear her. Even though things were going relatively well for a first contact event in my opinion, Vicky seemed quite tense and nervous over everything that was happening. I'll have to ask her all about it, later.
"And I'll need a drop of its blood on this paper," Sergeant Briggs told me, rummaging in his desk to pull out what looked like a small rolled up scroll.
"And that's?" I couldn't help but be curious, if she was going to be bleeding on it.
"A simple registration paper," Sergeant Briggs laughed lightly. "Common issue in these parts. All it does is record her corruption level and limit and such things. Then we fill in the name you wish to register her under, you sign it, I stamp it, and we're done. You'll have her registered for ownership and travel throughout the kingdom."
"And what's the price for all this," I asked, wearily. "Nothing is ever free in my experience."
"Right you are. Right you are, your High Lordship, you." Laughing lightly, Sergeant Briggs passed a small metal quill over to me. "I doubt you currently have any *shekels* now do you, since you weren't expecting to actually visit this land. In that case," he continued on, assuming he was right, "you have two choices available for you.
"One, you can basically sign an I.O.U. and then pay the associated costs plus a ten percent processing fee, within a mooning. This should give you more than enough time to exchange currency at the local money hangers.
"Or," he grinned brightly, "we can barter the costs for some goods. The clothes the shinta was wearing, for example, could be exchanged for her registration and leash, if you desire."
"Let's just do that then," I agreed easily enough. After all, it's not like she doesn't have a ton more clothes waiting at home now. Besides, we can always get more easily enough, as long as her mother lets us keep that credit card. "Vicky," I told her gently, "place the clothes you took off up on the desk here."
"Good deal," Sergeant Briggs nodded happily as Vicky unhesitatingly did as she was ordered. "It seems well trained for you," he commented, approvingly.
"She's a good girl," I agreed, turning to hold out a hand to her. "Your hand," I told her, waiting to take it with my own. Once I was certain I had a good grip on her wrist, I softly commanded, "Don't hurt," as I gently poked her with the quill I was given.
"Is that sufficient, good sir?" Holding out the quill to the sergeant, I waited for him to take it, but he never did.
"Just a drop or two on the scroll," he told us, indicating the small rolled up parchment on the desk.
"Sure thing." Holding the quill over the page, I shook it slightly until two drops fell off the tip and onto the parchment.