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6/13/2025, 2:24:14 AM
"Your offer is fair, and I would be happy to take it. I'll have my quartermaster hand over the coin when I return to the encampment." you say, to the man's relief.
"Of course, Don Alessandro. I shall see to it that you are given the supplies by tomorrow. As a token of good will, I have yet one more 'course' to offer before your lordship retires to your quarters - which I, of course, have already prepared for a man of your high esteem."
Though you were quite full, and already prepared to finish this event, it would have been rude to deny such a request - and of course, you were no stranger to being offered odd foods and drinks from distant lands. In this age where sailing has taken men to far flung corners of the globe, providing exotic items had become all but necessary to display your welath. Amidst the chatter of the other men in the table, you wait for the 'last course'
What soon arrives before you, however, is not a 'course', but a pot - an ornate brass drinking pot, with a curious long and curved beak.
"What I offer to you, your lordship, is an exquisite drink from the far west - Koffie, the sacred drink of the Fasian Emir." speaks your host, as his servants pour you and your other noblemen a cup of the thick black liquid. If you remember correctly, the Fasians were a people belonging to the far in the west, beyond even the borders of Mauva, where the vast stretch of the Mirevalian Empire ended, a hot and arid land filled with inhuman beings with armored skin. His Imperial Majesty, Teodor XI, was currently fighting against these men.
You ignore the Potestate as he brags of the many 'benefits' of the drink - you've heard this manner of speech about countless products from merchants and other noblemen who wished to impress you with whatever good they had got their hands on. The drink, you find, is not particularly to your taste either, being bitter and leathery, as though someone had made a syrup out of a boiled shoe and added only the barest hint of sweetness.
Your face, of course, shows nothing.
In the next day, your wagons are filled with the supplies you had bought, and after another 'parting meal' from Messer Ganieri, you and your regiment return to your march (though you cannot help but notice the increase in the number of sutlers and civilian wagons following your force from a distance)
+ RESERVE INCREASED
With a new month, the time to pay the soldiery arrives yet again, leaving you with a worrying 11,084 Imperii. Though you will be safe for this next month, the same cannot be said of the one after that. You have but one month left worth of wages on your warchest.
"Of course, Don Alessandro. I shall see to it that you are given the supplies by tomorrow. As a token of good will, I have yet one more 'course' to offer before your lordship retires to your quarters - which I, of course, have already prepared for a man of your high esteem."
Though you were quite full, and already prepared to finish this event, it would have been rude to deny such a request - and of course, you were no stranger to being offered odd foods and drinks from distant lands. In this age where sailing has taken men to far flung corners of the globe, providing exotic items had become all but necessary to display your welath. Amidst the chatter of the other men in the table, you wait for the 'last course'
What soon arrives before you, however, is not a 'course', but a pot - an ornate brass drinking pot, with a curious long and curved beak.
"What I offer to you, your lordship, is an exquisite drink from the far west - Koffie, the sacred drink of the Fasian Emir." speaks your host, as his servants pour you and your other noblemen a cup of the thick black liquid. If you remember correctly, the Fasians were a people belonging to the far in the west, beyond even the borders of Mauva, where the vast stretch of the Mirevalian Empire ended, a hot and arid land filled with inhuman beings with armored skin. His Imperial Majesty, Teodor XI, was currently fighting against these men.
You ignore the Potestate as he brags of the many 'benefits' of the drink - you've heard this manner of speech about countless products from merchants and other noblemen who wished to impress you with whatever good they had got their hands on. The drink, you find, is not particularly to your taste either, being bitter and leathery, as though someone had made a syrup out of a boiled shoe and added only the barest hint of sweetness.
Your face, of course, shows nothing.
In the next day, your wagons are filled with the supplies you had bought, and after another 'parting meal' from Messer Ganieri, you and your regiment return to your march (though you cannot help but notice the increase in the number of sutlers and civilian wagons following your force from a distance)
+ RESERVE INCREASED
With a new month, the time to pay the soldiery arrives yet again, leaving you with a worrying 11,084 Imperii. Though you will be safe for this next month, the same cannot be said of the one after that. You have but one month left worth of wages on your warchest.
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