A TASTE OF THE LIZARD REALM By: DankeDonuts https://www.furaffinity.net/user/dankedonuts/ Four straw-colored camels were hitched to the carriage that raced across a sandy desert trail. Atop the driver’s box sat two women. Both of them Lizard-folk in form, bright facial scales hidden under the long-brimmed hats and sand scarves that also covered their chests and shoulders. Billowing robes, strapped tightly against the wind of travel, further shielded them the clouds of cutting sands churned up by the beasts’ feet ahead and the heat of a setting sun behind. One of the women held the reins, her eyes firmly fixed upon the road. The other, a crossbow; her eyes darting everywhere else. Inside their carriage, a single man sat. A human no more than thirty years of age. His bearing was one of a tall-backed pride that came from diligent work rather than high-born airs. He wore travel clothes fit for any member if the landed gentry of his own realm. A long frock-jacket with a high collar and sturdy waistcoat over a pale lace-up shirt. Soft pants that were baggy to the knees and tight around the shins to accommodate tall boots. All of these in light colors chosen to provide ease from the heat that surrounded him and had done so for much of his journey. Save for the vest, which was plum purple, to add a bit of color. And, though he wasn't too keen to admit it, he also bore a slight gut on an otherwise modest frame. Pender had gotten into the habit of patting his hair, shoulder length and midnight-blue, down for evidence of infiltration by the sand which seemed to be always finding a way into his conveyance despite the innovative panes of glass that stood guard over the door windows. Granting him an uninterrupted view of the purpling sky above and parched land below. He knew that he was nearing his destination when he saw two great Declaration Stones at the edge of the carriage window. The great brown pillars, twelve stories high or more, carved by hand and polished by sand, stood as many-plinthed obelisks atop the red-orange sands. As the vehicle passed closer to one -- close enough that the farmer no longer had to strain his head against the window -- he was able to make out the pale gold marbling that ran through the massive blocks which made up the four-sided marker. Below a metallic sun-catching cap-stone was carved, on every face, the wide-maned head and triple-claw-swipe heraldic symbol of a Lion-man that he did not recognize. Nor could he read the inscribed script which circled the base. It must have gone out of use long ago, for he could count himself fluent in the contemporary tongue of the Ashija people. As legend had it, each of these landmarks had been erected in memory of a would-be conquer of Ashijaan. Any given obelisk declaring for all time how far each tyrant had progressed into the ancient country before being turned back in humiliation or defeated outright. Some were said to be the final resting places of equally storied, if overreaching, rulers of empire. It was a legend that the Ashija kept very much alive. A pledge to allies and enemies alike: We will not be moved. As the Stone passed behind the carriage Pender knew that the canyon city of Qulgido was close by. . . . The first stars of evening were just beginning to twinkle into view as the carriage made its way down a long and occasionally winding ramp down the canyonside. Countless buildings lay nestled into the rippled canyon walls, some of them several stories high and most of them comprised of some combination of pagodas and towers. The middle of the canyon was wide enough to accommodate several blocks worth of similarly-styled structures, and did. As well as the odd fountain, gazebo, or other feature. All lay cloaked in growing shadows cast by the western canon all or the countless sun shields that were tied between to or floated above multiple structures or the canyon itself. Trees, shrubs, patches of hard tenacious grass seemed to be pressed into every available corner. Bright-vested city workers wielding wands or long enchanted sticks, most of them Lizard-folk of one sort or another, were just beginning to light the lanterns which would illuminate the streets for night-time traffic. The aroma drifting onto the wind from a nearby teahouse -- floral and faintly sweet, with undertones of a bark-based spice -- lured the smell of the road and the camels out from Pender’s nose. “A welcome thing that is,” he chuckled to himself, swinging the window open to take in more of the smells. “The first of many happy scents, to be sure!” The carriage tuned onto one of the surface level streets and carried on across the canyon. There were more good smells to meet him indeed, especially as he passed an area packed with outdoor eateries. Fruit kebabs, honeycomb treats, whole roasting pigs on spits and more tempt his palate and then slip out of view. Among the hungry patrons it was plain that Qulgido was not populated only by Lizard-folk. Humans and Roadrunners, Fennecs and Sand Cats were merely the more numerous immigrants. The canyon’s elevation appeared to lower as the carriage continued on. Even as the surrounding buildings climbed their way higher and higher up its sides. Growing in size and complexity as they did so. This, then, was where the upper echelons lived. With a whip-snap of her tongue and a tug of the reins, the driver sent her beasts onto another stony ramp. Towards, at last, the estate which was to host Pender. Ekije Manor consumed the whole of a sizable plateau located halfway up the canyon. The main structure comprised three wide pagodas in back connected to two long pagodas set at ninety-degree angles to it, forming a three-walled square. The side facing the canyon floor was two stories high, the other only one. The well-stocked courtyard formed within was roofed with strips of multi-colored cloth. Along and around this main building were several open-walled towers, the top floors of which were covered in sun shields and ropes to hang more about the area. There were windows carved into the surrounding canyon as well, possibly for the servant’s quarters. A pair of sizable caves, with delicately carved mouths, most likely led to the stables. Striding out to meet the carriage was a tall Lizard in swooping pants and a long white vest embroidered in lines of green and gold. Yellow and orange and black were the scales of face. He, too, wore a hat, though not one as wide as the drivers. His sweeping tail left sidewind trails in the sand. Pender waved to him as he disembarked, and just had time to slip a few courtesy coins to the archer before his host was close enough to speak. “Master Clawcreek!” he bellowed in his deep timbre, arms wide. “Welcome!” “Pender, please,” he called back. “Of course, of course.” Running up from behind the man came a pair of younger Lizards with water pots and ladles for the drivers. One stopped before Pender, The other headed for the carriage staff. Pender happily enjoyed a share of the offered water. It was seasoned with lemon rind, and soothed his throat as fully as it restored his parched tongue. Instantly refreshing after such a long ride, the drink added new vigor to his words. “Glad to see you again, Uli. It’s been too long.” “It has indeed, friend.” Uli removed his hat, in observation of customs he’d observed in Pender’s native land. Pender thanked the boy, and asked his friend, “Are these your children? How they’ve grown!” “No, no,” Uli laughed. “These are the children of my stable master. This one is Loah, and that one leading the camels to the troughs is his sister Sheemi. I’m afraid you’ve missed my wife and the hatchlings; they’re visiting with her sister. The whole place is ours for the week! And how is your lovely bride-to-be?” Pender smiled just to think of the woman waiting for him back in Ythendale. “Josette prepares for the move to Clawcreek Farms at rapid pace. I received a letter from her just before I departed. Nothing stands in the way of our nuptials three months hence.” “I’m glad to hear it.” Uli took looked over the carriage, temporarily unhitched from its beasts. “I see you took my advice and came alone. Or was this the last stop?” “I came alone. But only from Port Ussel,” Pender admitted. “Even from just the next Duchy over, it was a long way to come without sharing the cost of a ride.” “I shall reimburse you the price of the other seats, my friend,” Uli grinned. “And it will be a worthy investment! Come the time tomorrow, you’ll be the talk of the town. The Human who came all the way across the Kesanna Sea to broaden the desert palate.” “With the generous help of your merchant lines, of course,” Pender grinned knowingly. Uli offered a jovial bow. “My humble contribution to international brotherhood. But let us leave matters of business for the next sun.” The Lizard clapped Pender on the back and guided him toward the forward courtyard. “Tomorrow evening, I shall introduce you to my beloved Duke’s court, and then you shall be free to import your exotic treasures throughout all of Qulgido. Tonight, we dine!” . . . Uli’s dining room was shaped to serve more than the small, intimate table at its center would suggest. The sandstone walls, red with lines of near-white, were illuminated from above by ceiling-mounted light orbs cased within cylindrical sconces of dark brass cut with repeating star-shape patterns. The overall effect granted a strong sense of warmth to a room designed, along with the rest of the house, to shirk the desert heat. The table itself was made of a dark wood stained darker. Two chairs, their exquisitely carved wood a match for the table, were ready at opposite ends, high backed and cushioned with stuffed velvet. The settings were of porcelain and silver, the wine cups gleaming crystal. There was no centerpiece, as such. Instead, a thin decorative cloth lay in the space between intended diners and draped over the sides near to the floor. It bore the stylized impression of a caravan moving through a sandstorm. A smaller, matching table stood nearby the one intended for the diners. The upper sections of the four large walls were delineated by a ring of square-shaped protrusions. Each was painted with one or two sizable glyphs, every one lined with iridescent paint that caught the light of the sconces, further spreading its ebb and flow. The room was largely empty of other decoration, the free-form striations of the walls themselves providing plenty of visual stimulation. Additional art, service tables, cabinets and the like would only get in the way. Into this most impressive chamber Pender entered, fresh from a bath and clothed in darker colors than before. In place of a casual vest, he wore a waistcoat of silver and blue-gray. He was escorted by the family butler, Bresht. The young woman shared the near-ubiquitous black body scales of her employer, those that could be seen from under a formal robe of muted gold. But her facial scales were a triad of blues, her eyes the pale turquoise of the sea. Concerned to see himself the lone diner, he mused to the woman, “I hope I didn’t arrive early?” “You’re just in time,” Uli said, emerging from a door on the other side of the smaller table. In his hands was a stout, dark bottle. “I was detained coming up from the wine cellar. I trust you found your rooms to your liking?” “I would have found a room quite to my liking, if I found it furnished so well. What you’ve granted me is practically an apartment!” “I shall pass your compliments on to the staff.” Bresht pulled Pender’s chair out before he even asked for it. He sat down and settled in as she did the same for her employer. She nodded approvingly at the selection of aperitif. “Shall I pour the wine, Sir?” “That won’t be necessary, Bresht. I owe our guest a courtesy.” “Very good, Sir. If you will excuse me, Sirs, I shall see if Chef is prepared to begin service.” The servant nodded and exited through the door Uli had come in from. “A courtesy?” Pender asked, curious. There was no door behind Uli, only the sea of stone. “I stole from you the chance to help me select our first drink of the evening. I’d have offered you that with a tour of my cellars, but after such a journey as yours I didn’t have the heart to rush your recuperations. Do forgive me.” Pender waved away the ‘slight.’ “There’s nothing to forgive. The gesture is appreciated. Might I ask what it is you’ve selected?” “You may do more than ask!” Uli laughed. He rose, taking the bottle with him. “This is an igiofruit wine vinted in an orchard in the Northern Reaches. Tenacious bushes, igios, whose roots go deep to find more water than the mountain creeks can provide. The fruit grows in rows on the branch, about the size of your thumbs held together when ready to be plucked. Traditionally, for an aperitif, whole igios are soaked in cider prior to fermentation.” The man began to pour, a deep indigo fluid. Up from the fluted glass came clouds of aroma. The sweetness of the base fruit, tart and earthy. The lingering snap of citrus. Pender raised the glass to his nose and performed the ritual swishing of the fluid, releasing even more of the flavor components. Uli took his seat again and together they toasted each other’s health before the first taste. It was pleasantly sharp, and it went down smooth. In the aftertaste there was a minor sour note, not too much, just the perfect palate cleanser. “An excellent choice.” --FOR MORE, DOWNLOAD THE PDF ABOVE--