l'Expedition (Chapter Three)

                                                                                      Giles

                "You can't become invincible by eating salt."

                "Why not?"  the man demanded, looking slightly offended.

                "Because salt doesn't work like that."

                "How do you know?  Are you an apothecary?  Who did you train under?"

                Giles sighed an rested his face on his hand.  "You don't need to be an apothecary, you need a general education.  Salt does not make you invincible."

                The other man cut in as he unscrewed the jar of salt.  "It heals wounds doesn't it?  Why then shouldn't it work preemptively?"

                "It only heals wounds because it cleanses them of impurities.  If you try this I guarantee it will fail."

                The two men frowned as they began dissolving a large quantity of salt into the pot of water on the table.  For several moments they simply ignored Giles, preferring to pretend he wasn't there until they thought of a clever answer.

                "I don't know what they taught you over at the University of Feringrad, but here, we're on the cutting edge of medicine."

                "Okay," Giles said, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.  "Just be careful not to cut yourself on it."

                The man took a scoop of the murky saltwater and smiled, ignoring the jest.  "After I drink this, I won't be able to cut myself on anything."

                Giles groaned.  This was not what he had in mind when he decided to leave his city state and travel the world.  Sure, the scholars at Feringrad were closed minded and boring, but at least they were intelligent.  These fools probably couldn't make a cure for something if all of the ingredients were already in the same pestle, he thought, rolling his eyes cynically as he watched the dumb expressions of glee on the faces of the men who were now chugging salt water.  This isn't even my field of expertise!

                His thoughts were interrupted as a he saw what one of the men was pulling from his robe.

                "Please tell me that dagger is for cutting ingredients."

                The scholar (if you could call him that) grinned and handed the dagger to his partner.

                "Among other things,"  he said as he placed his palm on the table and pulled back his sleeve.

                "I'm telling you, this is not going to work.  Put that dagger away before someone gets hurt."

                "Do it."

                His partner grimaced, looking sick to his stomach as he raised the blade high in the air.

                "Don't you think you should test this in a safer way?  Maybe a pin?"

                "Do it!"  the man shouted, growing impatient with his partner's indecision.

                The squelch of steel cutting through flesh was heard only for a second before the man's piercing scream enveloped the room.

                "You have got to be kidding me."  Giles looked away, but the image of the dagger embedded in the scholar's hand was burned into his mind, and only became clearer as his screams continued.  With a frustrated groan he left the room.  When the sounds of the man's agony faded into the background, Giles pulled the piece of parchment from his robe.  Snatching a quill from a nearby table, he crossed out "Medicine" from the list of colleges.  It joined "Architecture", "Philosophy", "History", "Cartography", and "Ancient Literature", all of which, to his dismay, were also crossed out.

                "Is there any college here that's actually doing anything worthwhile?"  He asked himself aloud.  Giles was part of an unfortunate category, in that he was far too intelligent to be anything less than a great scholar, but far too realistic to fit in with elitists.  In all twenty five years of his life, he had never found a place where he truly fit in, and was beginning to doubt the existence of such a place.

"Excuse me,"  asked a voice from behind him.  "What subject do you study here?"

Giles turned and was relieved to see that the man asking the question had the distinct red hair and fair skin of a resident of Collingrad.  With that knowledge, Giles assumed it was less likely that the man would be offended by the outburst he had probably just overheard.

                "Well, I don't study anything here, but back home I'm a student of Geography."

                The man took a seat on the short stone wall that divided the hallway from the courtyard.  His face lit of with a smile that seemed less joyful than it did predatory.

                "That's excellent, I'm writing a essay on a matter of geography right now, and I was wondering if you would help me by answering some simple questions."

                Giles leaned cautiously against the wall of the hallway and examined the man's eyes.  "Shoot."

                "Well I was wondering if you have an opinion on how stable the market to and from Flood Town is, and if they really have a future in the economy of Archia as a whole."

                The man did not seem curious, as a scholar seeking information, but analytical, like a prospector searching for rare metals among heaps of useless rock.  Giles shifted uncomfortably and answered.

                "As you know, their main export is jewelry and other crafts, and because of that, many have condemned their place in Archia's market scene as destined to collapse.  After all, they say, how can a city state survive if it has no raw materials worth buying?  I don't buy into any of that.  Their raw material is talent, and unlike the hardworking farmers of your city state, they have all day to perfect their art.  Flood Town is here to stay."

                The man with the red hair seemed amused, and inquired further.  "What about the fact that their culture doesn't respect property laws?  You're not worried that merchants will be too afraid of theft to patronize the state?"

                Giles crossed his arms.  "What worries me is that most governments in Archia believe that there are only four city states, yet each member of those governments probably owns enough artifacts crafted in Flood Town to buy an army."

                "So you don't believe the merits of a state lie in its honorability or lack thereof?"  he was fully smiling now, this time with the victorious gloating of a prospector who has uncovered a vein of gold.  

                "When rich people stop buying vases and necklaces from it, I will agree that Flood Town is not a legitimate city state."

                "And what about the claims that its lack of organized government makes it lesser than the other states?"

                Giles was now convinced that the man was not just posing popular counterarguments, but trying to aggravate him, almost as if to provoke a response.  If there was anything Giles knew how to do, it was give a response.

                "By those standards, there are zero official city states.  Ever studied the Second Century War?  If you can call that organized, we clearly have very different interpretations of the word."

                "I like you."   The man said promptly.  "You're not afraid of what people think.  I take it from your hair that you studied at Feringrad?"

                "Yes that's right,"  Giles answered, narrowing his eyes and idlly running his hand through his jet black hair.  "But what is it to you?"

                The man hopped down from the ledge.  "Walk with me,"  he said, gesturing elegantly down the hallway.  Giles followed uneasily, the mere fact that he didn't know all of the information that this mystery man did perturbing him.

                "I'm looking for help from a man with your skills.  I need a cartographer."

                "Well I'm not exactly a cartographer,"  Giles responded instinctually, his response almost rehearsed at this point.  "Cartographers make maps.  I read them."

                The man chuckled, and looked Giles straight in the eyes as they walked.  "You're not exactly a merchant, but that didn't stop you from making the journey all the way from Feringrad."

                Giles shifted uncomfortably as he walked.  The man was clearly looking for specific traits, and was delighted that this young scholar seemed to possess them.  What worried Giles was the fact that one of the traits he seemed to admire was the willingness to leave home without a qualm.  The only reason a man would admire this quality is if he were looking for someone to risk his life for the chance of something better.  Giles studied the man's face uneasily.

                "Theoretically speaking, what sort of help are we talking about?  Aren't most of the provinces in Archia already charted?"

                "As a geographer I'm sure you've heard legend of a place called Paradisia?"

                Giles stopped dead in his tracks.  He faced the man and looked him sternly in the face, examining it for any hint of humor or sarcasm.  Gritting his teeth, Giles tried to respond without raising his voice, each word actively provoking him as he said it.

                "You want me to map out a place where no one has ever returned from, to find a place that no one is sure even exists, to bring back legendary secrets that no one knows.  Did I get all of that right?"

                The man from Collingrad changed his demeanor almost instantaneously.  He smiled and seemed to relax, as if it were a huge relief to finally be able to talk openly.  Once more, he leaned casually against the short wall of the courtyard.

                "Almost,"  he said suavely, ignoring Giles' apparent anger.  "I want you to navigate through a place where no one has ever returned from.  Whether or not you map it out is really up to you."

                "Now why in the name of Environ would you expect me to be okay with that?"

                The look on the man's face vaguely resembled that of a child who had taken all of the other children's toys.  "But you're not just okay with the notion, are you?  You're enamored with it.  Deep down, you know this is what you came here to find.  You could stay here at the university and play with salt, but you're not going to.  You're going to accept my offer because it's the only way you will ever fulfill your true potential.  It's the only way you'll fulfill your destiny."

                Beneath his even keeled facade, the words struck deeply in the young scholar's mind, resonating with what his heart had been feeling ever since he arrived in Selingrad.  The man spoke the truth, and as much as Giles wanted to prove him wrong simply to wipe the condescending smirk off of his face, he knew that this would be a great opportunity.  If he accepted the offer, he would have a chance to make history.  To change the world.

                "I hope you don't think that it being my destiny is an excuse not to pay me.  I want the best team you can arrange and the best horses and equipment money can buy."

                Glowing with victory, the man stood up from the wall and offered his hand for a handshake.  "Done and done."

                "And one more thing."

                "Yes?"

                "I need to know your name,"  the young man demanded, looking at the extended hand as if it were a snake.  "I only make deals with people whose names I know."

                The man from collingrad smiled a sidways grin, not jovially as before, but cleverly, like a smile of a man who knows secrets disclosed to no one else.

                "Astuce.  Lord Astuce."