Akoril and Onyije find the food in Mzali uniformly bland. The best thing they can get is Azeeko's sweet bread, though Onyije terrifies a cook into telling them his family hoards recipes and eats the delicious food only at night behind locked doors. We'll be over for dinner — at midnight! She laughs and pounds the table while the man turns pale and hides under the counter, pretending to be busy restocking pots and pans.
Chim and Esi come across an elderly scholar lecturing against “spirit intrusions,” such as faith in the old gods of the threefold sun. Chohar, the pitiful cowardly lion who's false gold shines far more weakly then the mighty glory of Walkena; Luhar, the hungry black panther who lurks in shadow to eat your dreams but is banished where Walkena walks; and Tlehar the false dawn, the thief who tries and fails to steal the glory of Walkena every morning. He then gives examples of Walkena's righteous fury — the dust swallowed the river the only remnant of those heretics so righteously burned.
Kiri and Ignaci visit some taverns. The local city guard are gruff but amenable to conversation. While in some bars there are few soldiers around, and the common citizenry in these taverns tend to leave in a hurry, only after bubbling over with loud praise for the sun god. There's secret police here, watching them. Look at the fear behind thoise smiles… says Ignaci. Careful what they say lest, no soubt, one of them decides to "play the sun god" with one of them… The younf Vidrian clenches his fist and trembles with rage. Clearly, this brings up memories…
Wisps finds little of interest in the markets; the people seem indifferent or even nervous to an Anadi outsider, it seems. Or maybe it's Anchor root with her boom box musical bones and head banging chicken!? Ummmmm… Anchor sniffles and gets a litttle sad as your efforts are met with indiffernce.
That evening you find the woman and her four adult suns sitting on the porch with Azeeko, embroiled in conversation. They fall silent as you approach. Azeeko rushes over to offer you fresh-bake bread.
This time, you are more perceptive regarding hidden meanings. The woman smiles and waves directly at Esi. Plainly displayed on her wrist are bright Magaambyan initiate beads.
The guards take their place at the foot of the stairs in the common area. With little you can do while being monitored, you head upstairs.
That evening, there is a quiet knock at the door. Azeeko is standing there, with the scared tempest sun mage.
This pilgrim has begged me to speak with the Magaambyans. Have a moment, friends?
"Of course, of course! Please come in."
Wisps takes a quick glance around to see who all is watching.
Currently it is just the four of you in the room. Everyone else is in a back room of your apartments.
She smiles at Wisps and turns to the inkeeper. Azeeko my friend, drop the facade… these are accomplished Maagamyans, they know this is a setup. The charitable innkeeper (spy!?), who stil smells of the sweet bread he gives to the poor, blushes.
We prepare for war, Azeeko my old friend; but let us be truthful now, so our pride of lions may roar at the noontime.
She steps inside and closes the door.
Is Janatimo well? Please, tell him his former student, Sihar, gives her regards. And to you, the Bright Lions give theirs, honored guests.
With sleight of hand she pulls a golden medallion from a secret pocket. It's emblazoned with a lion's proud visage.
You can see her hand is callused — by both quill and sword.
We've worked hard to get you lodging here, in this particular inn that is operated by us Bright Lions, so we could have a conversation in safety. Not an easy task.
You know the tyranny of this place, likely from a purely academic standpoint. I grew up here, without a family. Have you visited the Well of the Moon yet, where the poor live? Surely they've guided you away from that miserable place. It's a place I escaped as a child — not many of us did — and it's a place I have returned to as a righteous heretic.
Righteousness… justice… these are interesting words, no? Walkena claims he is a descendant of Chohar, evidenced by their shared passion of justice—yet Walkena’s justice is vindictive and cruel, while the old sun god Chohar’s is one of duty.
Surely you are here to liberate the people of Mzali. We ourselves are on the cusp of undertaking a major strike against Walkena. We gotten the procedure of our raids down to a science: destroying the grotesque displays of power Walkena leverages as propaganda; eliminating members of Walkena's secret police, the Jackal Guard; and interrupting public executions to liberate and free the victims of tyranny.
We knew you have been coming for some time now. I have ways to get news from the outside world, especially at the Magaambya. I have prepared for your arrival. We have tactical shock forces deployed around the major temples, ready to fight. We have enough elite fighters to overwhelm the guards and Jackals.
You have brought an impressive force here to the city — far more firepower than we could have hoped.
A mere five of you single-handedly liberated Shadow-Jula. You bring twelve with you to Mzali. As in Shadow-Jula, when the downtrodden see what we can do they will rise up. There will be no stopping the noontime. We will have justice at last.
Joining together, Bright Lions and Magaambyans, we will assure the liberation of Mzali for once and all! She slams her fist into her palm.
Together, let us bring Mzali a new dawn. She pauses expectantly for your response.
"It was not we but the people of the Shadowlands who freed themselves," Chimwemwe says slowly. "And it was they who paid the cost of rebellion. We came to Mzali to wage a rebellion of mind and heart." He looks to the others.
Akoril puts down his sweet roll and embarrassingly wipes the crumbs from their hands.
"Let me speak first clearly, before we pursue any further discussion. We are explicitly forbidden from working with the Bright Lions. So let us put a lid on those discussions, and instead talk about how our work and your work might best benefit the people of Mzali, Especially those who suffer the most."
Sihar's face falls. She is not angry, but disappointed. Our methods are different, but my time at the Magaambya taught me not to spurn a potential ally. I know you will do some good here.
I grew up alone, without a family. Perhaps they were executed by Walkena like so many others, or they simply abandoned me. I spent my early youth in up in a temple dedicated to Walkena, indoctrinated in teachings that he was a holy descendant of the gods, and how his word was the law. I learned to read and write by transcribing Walkena’s holy word so that it could be spread across the whole Mwangi Expanse.
Some of us had a yearning to explore. We'd sneak underground and explore the temples and ruins below the city. We found a secret place among the shattered old gods destroyed by Walkena. A forgotten place with golden statues, scripture that spoke of forgiveness instead of punishment, and paintings of an old sun providing warmth and life to the lands instead of fire and fury.
There was another way. I found old scrolls full of teachings of the old gods of the threefold sun. I realized Walkena's teachings are blasphemous corruptions of the Old Sun Gods’ teachings.
She pauses.
The writings speak of a secret place called the Shrine of the Eclipse. It's a closely guarded secret; that temple is the very same location that housed Walkena's original tablets of fire — symbolic items he claims foretold his rise to "liberate" Mzali from oppression. Of course he will not allow anyone to see these tablets up close, nor will he allow anyone to know the location of this temple.
What he does not know is that this palce has a connection to a lost daughter of Chohar, who fought against the old Council of Mwanyisa. These scriptures obliquely reference an apotheosis.
If you can get in Walkena's good graces and discover information on this place, it may help our cause — not to directly fight, but to bring the ways of the old gods back and sway minds through culture and discourse.
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"This we can and will do" Kiri says, their mind swimming with imaginings of ancient temples blended with blurry memories.
Akoril nods somberly.
"Thank you for understanding the limits of what we're able to do. While our individal blades and bows could help your revolution, The Strength of Thousands leading to reform may be of more benefit."
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You can reach me through Azeeko. She takes her leave.
The next morning, Azeeko knocks on your door. There is a well-dressed Vidrian man standing next to him, with arms crossed and a frown on his face. Azeeko smiles. Honored guests, this is—
The man brushes the inkeeper aside. I have no time for these pleasantries, inkeep. He eyes you up. M’bele Numbe, head of the Anthusis Traveling Merchant Guild, an official branch of of the The Combined Mercantile Interests, bestowed with powers to speak on its behalf.
He clearly expects you to know what all these titles this mean.
We are here to establish trade routs to kickstart Vidrian’s economy.
Ignaci perks up at this and starts listening intently. More worringly, the young spy nods in agreement as the merchant speaks.
I heard you nosing about the marketplaces, looking for contacts. Know this: we too seek an audience with Walkena, and we have been her for weeks. Like many executive-level stakeholders, the attention span of Walkena's council members and allies is very limited. We will complete our mission soon, and in the meantime suggest you cease all efforts for the good of Mzali's people, economy, and Vidrian's people! We will complete our deals and bring trade here and culture here — a major boon to everyone in the region. Your presence here only interferes with our good work. In fact, it's a major obstacle. We were here before you. Do not undermine our work. As honored Magaambyan delegates, you must surely see this.
Akoril listens and responds, hoping to inform his allies and set the stage. "Please, slow a moment. We have no animosity towards the trading guilds of Vidrian's capital Anthusis and understand that Vidrian needs many trading partners and allies since throwing off the shackles of Chelixian oppression. Perhaps even if you do not have time for pleasantries with our innkeep, you have time enough to engage in some with ourselves? Surely any time you spend talking with us, furthers your goals, does it not?"
I am pleased you know of our guild. My time is very limited. Therefore, you know how much it will behoove you to stand down, and get out of our way while we finish our work here.
"Your struggles are not ours, and though we are sympathetic to your frustration, we will not stand aside. If there is other aid we can offer, name it and we will consider."
"I wonder if Walkena timed our invitation to intentionally stymie your own work," Chimwemwe ponders aloud. "I wonder how many other factions seeking the betterment of Mzali are here seeking the same limited attention from the council." He pauses for a while, thinking. "We could share your intentions if we manage to make in roads. So far we have not been very successful."
At least you aren't patronizing! I loathe that more than anything else! BAH!
He storms out.
Over the next few days you gather some information on other notable figures in Mzali.
Ochieng and Themba Sufu are the leaders of the Sun Warriors, Walkena's personal guard.
Wekesa is Voice of the Mzali, official liaison for the needs of Mzali’s citizens.
Worknesh, head of Mzali military.
You can also contact M’bele or Sihar.
Akoril ponders out loud "I'm most crios as to Wekesa, and the official position of the needs of the locals."
Chimwemwe nods at Akoril's suggestion.
Finding Wekesa is a surprisingly difficult task. The people of Mzali see him as an ally and are reticent to share his whereabouts. He's a Zenj man with golden tattoos of the sun's path, from sunrise till sunset, arching across his face.
He moves around the city daily, among the citizens, collecting their thoughts…
Kiri prowls quietly along rooftops and other vantage points, looking for Wekesa.
Akoril is of little help in this endeavor.
Kiri notices a man with said tattoos on his face, talking to an old lady struggling with a cart she drags along an ancient temple's cobblestoned street. He walks alongside her, hands occupied with his notes.
Yes, smoother streets you say. He jots something down in his notebook. Walkena has done so much for us already in this temple city. So much history in these beautiful cobblestones. He writes some more. I'll tell him for you. Smoother streets.
The old woman nods and smiles up at Wekesa; the cart rattles and bangs along and some guava fruit fall out onto the street, bouncing away.
"Greetings, Wekesa," Chimwemwe says as they catch the god-king's civic intermediary. "We are the representatives from the Magaambya. I am interested to learn how the city supports its people." He tries to engage Wekesa in conversation to tease out the man's personality.
"Since we have been here, all that I have heard is about how much Wekesa does."
"Yes, and what a valuable and important part of that Wekesa is."
Akoril nods "I admit to already putting on a few pounds as I have been touring the city's many bakeries. Many speak of the good work you have done helping them prosper, keeping trade flowing through your good works. I'm sure you know why we're hear, so please tell us how you see further interaction with Maagambya and the outside world best benefiting the people of Mzali."
Chim notes that flattery about Wekesa's work might be a good way to influence him.
Wekesa stares at the lot of you. These foreigners interrupt our work as Mzali citizenry, old grandmother. Let us continue our business. He walks on…
Another week passes as you search mzali.
"I am certain that we will need him eventually," Chimwemwe says as they discuss their experience with Wekesa. "But I am not excited by talking to such a shallow enabler. Should we explore another avenue? Maybe Worknesh? He should have a more straightforward personality."
"That sounds like a good idea," answers Wisps, slightly peeved that she couldn't make progress with Wekesa.
To get in contact with Worknesh, you spend a week slowly workin up the chain of Mzali’s law enforcement. First are the standard guards, then guard captains, and then the chief guard.
To finally get in contact with an elite Jackal Guard you must make a DC 30 Mzali Lore check, DC 37 Diplomacy check, or DC 35 Warfare Lore check.
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Chimwemwe does his best to leverage his reading of nation-states within the Mwangi Expanse for Ahassunu's class to negotiate with the chief guard for an appointment with Worknesh.
Chim easily finds inroads and an elite jackal guard arranges you meet "Worknesh the Unstricken" — a nickname he says with both reverence and fear because Worknesh has never been struck by a fellow guard, though she spars furiously and often with them, sometimes leaving them with cruel scars and injuries — at the Jackal Guard base, just East of Walkena's main temple.
The base is austere, temple-style structure but stripped of aesthetics; it's overly large and lacking soft edges, as if intended to inspire awe or intimidation. Stone columns with oversize banners of the Sun God tower above the steps up to the massive wooden doors etched with a rising sun.
Inside, you are escorted through spacious hallways. Along the way a trio of grinning Jackal Guards passes you, escorting a despairing young man in shackles; he offers no resistance. They gently push him into a room and follow him inside; a bar on the other side of the sturdy door slams into heavily into place.
On you go.
Finally, you arrive at in an extremely spacious, sunlit room that lacks decoration. Worknesh the Golden blade stands with two elite Jackal Guards upon a golden rug. She casually holds a spear coated in brilliant gold; beautiful engravings run along its shaft, depicting the rising and setting of the sun against Mzali’s skyline. It casts daylight around the room, dropping sharp shadows behind your two delegations.
She is lean and powerful, and by her stance you can tell she is a deadly fighter. She sizes you up with an intense gaze.
Worknesh the Golden Blade grins. "The 'scholars' present themselves willingly. The word "scholars" drips with sarcasm. "Welcome to the Jackals' den, and hail the God King Walkena!
HAIL THE GOD-KING! shout the guards in perfect unison. They sharply slam the butts of their spears on the stone floor.
"We are not merely scholars," Chimwemwe says as Worknesh greets them with an intimidating flair. "It is important to hone the body as well as the mind, and the Magaambya does not shirk in any field that can be taught for the betterment of the people. I would be willing to demonstrate."
Akoril does their best to look like a fearsome warrior, having spent some of the time hunting down Worknesh reading and learning about local millitary history. Akoril eventually settles on a hat that harkens back to a great warrior in the city's history instead of his normally jaunty pick.
Akoril, trying to look his most imperial keeps his posture held tall, trying in both manner and clothes to impress Worknesh.
Worknesh slowly blinks at Chim. Perhaps some other time.
She seems intrigued with Akoril's choice of hatwear, until she notices a flaw in its presentation. It is said the warrior Afiya used that color indeed, but legend has it she preferred the sun-bird's feather on her left side, for she wielded her spear in her right hand hand.
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"I have been called many things in my long life, scholar only the most recent. Wanderer, menace, stranger, seeker; they recede into the mists of time. However, I have spent centuries learning of my own forgotten past, and one title fits best--the first one; the one I was created to carry: warrior."
"Scholars, indeed. It is astounding the number of ways that one can use one's intellect in combat. Many have fallen before us."
Fascinating. We have not seen many of your kind. Kiri and Worknesh discuss some time-lost techniques; Worknesh seems most happy to add clarity and pointers at certain moments.
She raises an eyebrow at Wisps, polite but unfazed. Perhaps…
With that, your delegation is sent on their way. Worknesh is very busy. There are bright lions out there, after all, waiting to be interrogated and then snuffed out like the false suns they are.
You can't help but think of the despairing young man you passed in the hallway. Perhaps Worknesh arranged that insidious little scene to make a point about what happens to those who dare undermine Walkena's might.
HAIL THE GOD KING! Once again the soldiers shout and slam their spears on the stone floor. HAIL! HAIL!
Another week passes…
Akoril invites Onyije along to go meet Ochieng and Themba Sufu.
You hit the streets.
To contact them you need a DC 25 Diplomacy check to Gather Information or a successful DC 20 Mzali Lore check.
If Akoril doesn't know where they've been based on his bakery tour he spends the time trying to track them down.
The Sun Warriors, Walkena’s personal guard detail, is housed alongside the city's central palace temple. Inside you meet Ochieng.
Ochieng is a zombie solely dedicated to the administrative side of running the Sun Warriors. She is talking to a Sun Warrior when you arrive.
R-R-R-R-R. You leave shift three minutes early. Dock three minutes pay. R-R-R-R-R. Type 7a Arrest Report Incident 0778263-9a due for project/task code 222597*24 for stakeholder review by end of day. R-R-R-R-R.
The guard sighs and slouches away to do paperwork. After introducing yourself Themba growls.
R-R-R-R. Interfacing with Diplomats not in Guard Leader job scope. R-R-R-R-R. Require project number and task code with approved budget and signature from project sponsor. Post status update on Seams. She points at stitched-together zombie who holds a board full of little color-coded cards, each one labeled with a project. Some cards are also stuck with pins to their flesh. Those must be the highest priority items. R-R-R-R-R. Ochieng shambles away in search of her next employee to terrorize. Seams wanders off after the guard, hovering in his periphery.
Not only may it be impossible to get a project with a budget for this zombie, she seems rather… beyond influence.
Looks like you need to talk to Themba.
Turns out he's rarely here; he spends most of his time in an opulent manor in the northeastern part of the city. Off you go!
Themba's manor is opulent indeed. Liveried servants escort you inside. A butler addresses you all by your title.
Lore-speakers, welcome! Wandering Glider, Glimmering Hyena, Blazing Spider, and Chimwemwe — who's mask has no name as of yet — welcome. Ahh, and the ferocious Onyije. Please, come in. Master Themba is thrilled you have made time to pay him, a mere humble civil servant, a visit!
Themba awaits in a well-appointed room, lounging in a chair. On a mahogany table is spread with delectable food from the Magaambya. After weeks of eating the bland food of Mzali, your mouths water. How interesting that this person so openly flaunts the cuisine of a foreign land, something the general citizenry seem terrified of doing. There are even slices of fresh mango and plantains!
Themba stands and smiles. Welcome, friends! A little bird told me the delegation would be coming our way, so I put together a small repast in the style of Magaambya campus food. While I'm sure it pales in comparison to Lumusi Yao's cooking, perhaps it will give you some comfort in our land, which must surely feel strange to you.
"It is so kind of you to show such consideration. Indeed, this reminds me of home. Have you visited the Magaambya to have sampled Lumusi Yao's cuisine?"
Kiri quietly studies Themba, trusting their allies to lead the conversation.
Now why would I leave my holy city? He leaves the rest unsaid. Likely he has connections at the school, or… informants?
He notices you noticing, and passes a secret sign: "I see you."
Akoril politely eats some of the fruit. Even though Akoril has been having a good time touring Mzali's many bakeries, the change of pace is welcome.
Akoril comments. "Your knowledge of the Magaambya is impressive and we thank you for the hospitality. I do wish to sample as much of the local cuisine as possible while we are here. Perhaps you can recommend some local resturants."
Akoril tries to steer the conversation into Themba discussing their preferences.
There is a local cuisine rooted in the tradition of goodly sun worship. And, punishing those who go against the natural order of things.
The whydah bird is one. This songbird eats only at night, and sings only at night. It lives for the night, against the teachings of Walkena. So, these birds are captured and raised in dark boxes in solitary confinement. Alone, they do not sing, and in the dark, they experience an endless hunger! They gorge themselves. They are fed grain until they double their bulk… or more. They are then further punished for their unnatural way of being: brought into the bright light, the bloated creature is suspended upside down over a container of sun-yellow palm wine, and by dipping, made to slowly drown. Finally, they are marinated in a special sauce. Delicious!
Themba's eyes glitter with excitement as he thinks about this process.
Chimwemwe's puzzle box appears in his hand as the Sun Warrior describes the cruel method of preparing whydah to cook and his fingers move faster and faster. Eager to change the subject, he inquires about the Sun Warriors. "While I am a student of the divine geometry, it is also important to maintain the body. A strong mind requires a strong body. If you do not mind, tell me, how do the Sun Warriors maintain their physical readiness?" He continues trying to engage the leader in conversation about the martial practices his soldiers employ.
Themba stares at Chimwemwe with burning hatred when the inventor distracts him from the cruel revelry.
But only for a moment.
In a blink, Themba is smiling warmly. He slaps Chimwemwe on the arm.
That's funny! Ask Ochieng. Did you meet her? I'm sure she has those poor brutes on a dogmatic schedule. I'd say her brain might have atrophied after she received Walkena's "gift" of undeath, but she was never very creative when she was alive. And she got things done on time then. Now she excels even further at the art of micromanagement — for she never sleeps, eats, or breathes!
He chuckles. No no no, Chim — isn't that what your friends call you? "Chim?" — the God-King wouldn't have me doing such mundane work. We enjoy much more rarefied pleasures here in this manor.
Themba's butler slinks alongside Chimwemwe and refills his drink before the inventor even notices; the man has been standing in the shadows the whole time.
After some more pleasantries, the audience ends.
Themba insists on sending you back to the inn with a carriage, and boxes of delicious home-cooked food labeled as plain chapati bread. Another liveried servant, one with callused hands, packs the food for you. The butler slips outside and waits at the carriage, holding the door open. We know where you are staying, friends. We'll have you at the Golden Mouse soon.