Those above rely on those below in the Corners of Khorvaire.
As I begin my newest sojourn from Passage to Sharn, I was able to visit a place I have long dreamed of seeing. The Floating Towers of Arcanix, home to the Arcane Congress and the seat of wizardly power in Aundair. Although I was unable to ascend to the Towers for a scholarly visit, I was able to marvel at them from below.
As I sat in the large town square of Arcanix idly sketching one of the towers, a caravan of wagons rolled up. As the wagoneers began unloading their burdens, I thought I was in store for a farmer's market but I was confused as there were no stalls from which they could sell their goods. Much to my curiosity, they began unloading wheat, oats, apples, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, salted meats, and even great wheels of sharp cheeses. Each portion of victuals was then carefully loaded into large, wicker baskets. When I say "large", dear readers, I mean that this writer could have lain down inside one and still had room to spare for two more Zil without worry of impropriety. With great effort, the porters spaced the baskets out across the square in what can only be described as "ranks" like soldiers on parade. As the chief of the caravan walked down each row, he inspected each basket and its space between those around it. As he finished, he nodded at each farmer with satisfaction and they all retreated to the edges of the square.
Their leader then approached the bench upon which I sat while watching the "hubbub". He smiled warmly at me as he unslung a great horn from his back.
"Beggin' yer pardon, sir.", he chuckled to me. "Mind ye don' get snatched up!"
Before I could ask him what he meant, he raised the horn to his lips and blew a long blast followed by three sharps notes. He repeated the call twice more.
And then I saw them, dear readers! Dragonhawks!
Floating down from the tower I had erstwhile been sketching, a squadron of Aundair's finest airborn soldiers flew down on their magnificent mounts. Each 'hawk landed precisely next to a basket of goods and their riders dismounted and gave them a quick inspections, adjusting the load for balance. The squad's commander approached the caravan's chief.
"Good day, Fefrin." He said formally. "Coin or Marks?"
The chief, Fefrin, responded "Coin, if'n ya please Commander. My folks need payin' and coins is easier ta split up."
"Very well. On behalf of her majesty and the Arcane Congress, I thank you for your adherence to duty." The commander then handed over a satchel containing the farmers' payment.
Turning with military bearing, the commander mounted his 'hawk. Raising a whistle to his lips, he blew one sharp note and his squad mounted as well. With another sharp whistle, the dragonhawks began to take flight, each gripping a basket in their deadly claws as their powerful wings drew them aloft.
I stood in awe as they sailed away through the air. Fefrin then began passing out coins to all the farmers and porters of his caravan who had crowded around him before the dust of take off had even settled.
After passing out the coins, the gathered Audairians removed their head-coverings and looked to their leader. Fefrin drew himself up and addressed them.
"Happy hawksday, ya lot o' grubbers! Now get outta my face until next month!", he then raised his fist in the air and shouted "BLESS THE TOWERS! BLESS US ALL!"
The assembled throng pumped their fists in the air and responded "MAY THEY NEVER FALL! AUNDAIR! AUNDAIR! AUNDAIR!" before dispersing, mostly to the nearby tavern.
Keep your feet on the ground but keep your eyes on the sky in the Corners of Khorvaire.
Genbo Santor d'Sivis
