Aresan Clan pt 49

“So, after that, are you now going to make me breakfast?” Darma asked, still recovering her breath, “I’m eager to learn some of the Sage’s recipes as well.”

“And that is another of the three pillars of the Sage’s longevity,” Salles said.

“Exactly,” Darma replied, “I want to live to see my hundred and twentieth birthday, like Noone.”

Salles shook his head, “Don’t expect over much. Even if you eat like a sage, exercise like a sage and sleep like a sage, you still don’t have the blood of a sage. Longevity tends to run in the bloodline of Aresan royalty. Nonetheless, I will cook your breakfast as you command mistress.”

Darma summoned Onur to the kitchen to watch Salles while he prepared her breakfast. “I’m afraid you’d have to come to the cloisters to really see the full extent of the Sage’s cuisine. I simply don’t have the raw materials here. I’m doing the best with what I have, but it’s not of equal quality. And, many of the things we eat can take many days, even multiple seasons to prepare. This cheese for example,” Salles said while he crumbled a pungent cheese on top of two hot bowls of oat porridge, “Has to be left to sit for half a year. Our honey-beer takes a full season to mature. Back at the cloisters our storerooms are filled with casks and barrels of food in various stages of preparation. Without that, what I have to show about our cuisine is incomplete.”

“I still appreciate you doing it,” she said, following him into the dining room when he set down the porridge and cheese next to the frothing mugs of beer.

“I should also add that, unlike our exercise, we have much less variety in our diet. The visitors from Lamosa are surprised when I tell them for that for my entire life, for three meals a day, I have eaten, almost exclusively, only one of seven different meals. The life of a sage is one of unvarying habits, schedules and routine. For me, the endless variety of possibilities presented by such a grand city as Lamosa are just a story.”

“Today I’ll show you the city,” Darma said as she ate through the porridge.

“You did hear what Noone said, didn’t you?” Salles asked.

“Yes, she has such a way of making something as pedestrian as walking through the city so much more exciting by forbidding it. That’s what I like about her,” Darma said.

Soon after their breakfast, Salles was following Darma out the front door of her large home onto the windy streets of Lamosa. In the exclusive Market Square district in which Darma lived, the streets were paved with stone and lined on either side by several-story high stone buildings, which seemed extend endlessly in either direction. A certain smell pervaded the air, emanating from the sewers, which flowed in deep, covered ditches on either side of the sidewalk. “You’d be surprised to know that there are parts of the city where the smell is much worse,” Darma said, leading the way as she touched a perfumed handkerchief to her nose.

For this stroll, Darma had changed into a casual but extremely fashionable dress. The rich dyes, still fresh in color, and many layers of intricately stitched fabrics clearly communicated the wealth of its wearer, and it was in stark contrast to the simple, well-worn habit of Salles as he walked beside her.

Darma led him to an open square only a few blocks from her home. Around the edges many sellers had set up stalls where a crowd of vocal and energetic merchants was selling bounteous wares, mostly food. But the real spectacle of the square was the statue in the center. On a raised stone platform, a bronze statue of two males glowed in the sunshine. The two figures both stood on their feet facing one another, but they leaned backwards, pointing their bare chests to the sky, while they held onto each other with one hand.

“This here is the oldest market in Lamosa,” Darma said, “And in the center we have the statue of Neer and Naal. Are you familiar with their story?”

“I’m embarrassed to say I’m not,” Salles admitted.

“It’s a story familiar to every resident of Lamosa,” Darma said, “You have to hear it.”

<-- Go to Part 48         Go to Part 50 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

“So, after that, are you now going to make me breakfast?” Darma asked, still recovering her breath, “I’m eager to learn some of the Sage’s recipes as well.”

“And that is another of the three pillars of the Sage’s longevity,” Salles said.

“Exactly,” Darma replied, “I want to live to see my hundred and twentieth birthday, like Noone.”

Salles shook his head, “Don’t expect over much. Even if you eat like a sage, exercise like a sage and sleep like a sage, you still don’t have the blood of a sage. Longevity tends to run in the bloodline of Aresan royalty. Nonetheless, I will cook your breakfast as you command mistress.”

Darma summoned Onur to the kitchen to watch Salles while he prepared her breakfast. “I’m afraid you’d have to come to the cloisters to really see the full extent of the Sage’s cuisine. I simply don’t have the raw materials here. I’m doing the best with what I have, but it’s not of equal quality. And, many of the things we eat can take many days, even multiple seasons to prepare. This cheese for example,” Salles said while he crumbled a pungent cheese on top of two hot bowls of oat porridge, “Has to be left to sit for half a year. Our honey-beer takes a full season to mature. Back at the cloisters our storerooms are filled with casks and barrels of food in various stages of preparation. Without that, what I have to show about our cuisine is incomplete.”

“I still appreciate you doing it,” she said, following him into the dining room when he set down the porridge and cheese next to the frothing mugs of beer.

“I should also add that, unlike our exercise, we have much less variety in our diet. The visitors from Lamosa are surprised when I tell them for that for my entire life, for three meals a day, I have eaten, almost exclusively, only one of seven different meals. The life of a sage is one of unvarying habits, schedules and routine. For me, the endless variety of possibilities presented by such a grand city as Lamosa are just a story.”

“Today I’ll show you the city,” Darma said as she ate through the porridge.

“You did hear what Noone said, didn’t you?” Salles asked.

“Yes, she has such a way of making something as pedestrian as walking through the city so much more exciting by forbidding it. That’s what I like about her,” Darma said.

Soon after their breakfast, Salles was following Darma out the front door of her large home onto the windy streets of Lamosa. In the exclusive Market Square district in which Darma lived, the streets were paved with stone and lined on either side by several-story high stone buildings, which seemed extend endlessly in either direction. A certain smell pervaded the air, emanating from the sewers, which flowed in deep, covered ditches on either side of the sidewalk. “You’d be surprised to know that there are parts of the city where the smell is much worse,” Darma said, leading the way as she touched a perfumed handkerchief to her nose.

For this stroll, Darma had changed into a casual but extremely fashionable dress. The rich dyes, still fresh in color, and many layers of intricately stitched fabrics clearly communicated the wealth of its wearer, and it was in stark contrast to the simple, well-worn habit of Salles as he walked beside her.

Darma led him to an open square only a few blocks from her home. Around the edges many sellers had set up stalls where a crowd of vocal and energetic merchants was selling bounteous wares, mostly food. But the real spectacle of the square was the statue in the center. On a raised stone platform, a bronze statue of two males glowed in the sunshine. The two figures both stood on their feet facing one another, but they leaned backwards, pointing their bare chests to the sky, while they held onto each other with one hand.

“This here is the oldest market in Lamosa,” Darma said, “And in the center we have the statue of Neer and Naal. Are you familiar with their story?”

“I’m embarrassed to say I’m not,” Salles admitted.

“It’s a story familiar to every resident of Lamosa,” Darma said, “You have to hear it.”

<-- Go to Part 48         Go to Part 50 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 49