On the Road to Zylpolis

“Soldiers...in River's Bend?” Hektor Tumlin inquired from the driver's seat of their new wagon. “And they were shaking down a little boy?”

Agnes yawned, fighting the gentle rocking of the wagon and warm morning sun to stay awake. “Thought he was a thief, but I know it wasn't because I saw her do it.”

Hektor stroked his chin, “River's Bend doesn't have a military or even a formal city guard. Sure the men take turns serving as a night watch...but these guys had uniforms?”

“Looked like it,” Agnes mused as she turned to check on their cargo. The gentle tinkling of the perfume bottles wasn't helping her drowsiness. “They didn't seem to like being sent all the way out there.”

“Closest city that would have something like that is Zylpolis,” Tumlin offered as he gently tugged on the reins to avoid a rut in the road. “Which is where we're going anyways. Guess we're just going to have to hope we can avoid trouble.”

“My my,” Agnes said wistfully as her eyes drooped. “I don't think I've been all the way to Zylpolis in thirty, maybe forty years. Still the same logging town?”

“So, uh...just how old are you Mrs. Agnes?”

“I know Doris raised you better than to ask a lady such a question.” Agnes retorted with a slight but sharp rap of her shepherd's crook and a coarse cackle.

The wagon rolled on languidly across the outlying plain north of River's Bend. The road more or less followed the course of the river. It had more ruts and more holes in the adjacent levee than Agnes remembered. Unlike the wooded foothills of Agnes's village, these were large farms growing staples like wheat and barley. Every now and then they would pass a small millhouse with a lazily-spinning waterwheel or brewery. These were much larger operations than a family farm. Worked by big teams of tenant farmers under the supervision of the owning family. Some of which might even have an old knighthood or deed offered by a noble. Some who's ownership outlived the lord's rule.

Agnes could never keep who controlled what straight in this long stretch of flat farmland. Trelle was a proper city-state, with it's own hereditary Archon and elected Boule. Villages like Agnes's would also typically vote on a nominal headman for a term of a few years, but that was much more informal. She forgot where she had heard it and from whom, but Agnes remembered something about the real power in Trelle resting in those who knew how to get someone elected to a seat in the Boule. She found plenty of time to ponder such boring things as how someone would get that job in the first place on this long, mostly steady road.

This stretch of lowlands was far from the main cities. Zylpolis oscillated between independence and a tributary of the somewhat noteworthy city-states of Geppol and Thrantium as well as Trelle. It had been all four in Agnes's lifetime. The formal cults of some gods might vie for ownership of some of these smaller outlying lands as well, though they tended to favor currying influence in the bigger city-states. It never seemed to matter that much to Agnes. They paid a small tax as a village to River's Bend and whoever was in charge of the small town would take care of it from there. The Xantous family of merchants had managed to stay in that role through several broader political shifts, and they had the sense to doctor records a little if one village had a drought and another a bumper crop. The city-states rarely paid that much attention as long as the amount they expected showed up on time.

Agnes couldn't remember how long it had been since there was a more demanding need. Back in her youth there was a year all the girls in the village spent a summer weaving bolt after bolt of cloth for military uniforms and it was impossible to find a smith who could take on normal jobs, but what that was for eluded her memory. All of that felt like a big game meant for people more important than her.

“Looks like a good spot to take a break,” Hektor said, snapping Agnes out of her dozing. “How about a nice lunch to perk you up?”

“Sorry Tumlin,” Agnes murmured as she smoothed out her dress. “You're a very gentle driver, you know?”

Hektor gave a hearty laugh as he swung down from the seat. “I try to be. Cousin Mel would tan my hide if she heard I broke those perfume bottles.”

Hektor offered a hand to help Agnes down and they made their way into a roadside tavern surrounded by grape vines growing into a wild tangle under the summer sun. A squat brick building with a waterwheel jutting out of the side into the river. The tavern was lively, filled with workers and farmers beating the heat and enjoying the range of chilled wines offered.

“Tumlin!” Called a voice from behind the bar. A rosy-cheeked middle-aged woman was waving Hektor over to a pair of open stools. “Who's your charming young friend here?” she asked as the two took their seats.

“Heh, you're too kind.” Agnes cooed, reaching down to massage her stiff knee. “I like this one Tumlin.”

“Aurelia,” Hektor answered as he gestured to Agnes. “This is my new friend Ms. Agnes. May not look like it but she saved my life out in the woods the other day.”

Another patron at the bar perked up at that, “The woods? I heard there was some scary forest witch causing trouble around River's Bend. That what you run into?”

“Nothing like that, no. Just a big scary spider.”

Aurelia shuddered at the revelation. “That's enough for me, you just want the daily special?”

Hektor and Agnes nodded in agreement and enjoyed the moment of respite almost as much as they enjoyed the plate of grape leaf rolls and fresh tabouleh made from in-season vegetables. While Hektor inquired about the sauce with the barmaid Agnes couldn't help but pick up on some of the talk floating around. Even if her hearing wasn't what it used to be, it was a useful trick to pick out the “breeze” of each individual conversation. Though there seemed to be only one major topic amongst them.

“Zylpolis has been recruiting soldiers?”

“And they've come all this way?”

“Why? Geppol's the other way.”

“Gotta have your own house in order first.”

“Don't see why they have to be so gruff with decent folk like us.”

“Jerk shook me down, said I didn;t have some hospitality permit he made up.”

“Fancies himself a prince, eh? Seems like a proper one could afford to buy food from us instead of just taking it.”

By this point even Hektor noticed the thread and leaned in to ask Aurelia lowly, “Is there some kind of trouble in the city?”

The barmaid looked around warily as she leaned in to answer. “Well, you said you were only passing through right? Probably for the best. A new merchant family has come into power there in the past few months. Finally broke the stalemate in the last Boule elections.”

Hektor furrowed his brow, “C'mon Aurelia, you know I don't have the head for stuff like this.”

Agnes was the one to offer the answer, she'd gleaned enough from the din around the tavern. “So they're about to stop paying tribute to Geppol?”

Aurelia nodded solemnly, “And that's the one thing that'll kick off a war between the two. More than anything, a bigger city-state like Geppol doesn't want the competition of another equal. Zylpolis is taking advantage of a contested succession in Geppol...but whoever wins pretty much has to respond to maintain power.”

Hektor turned to Agnes as he paid their tab. “Sounds like something that has nothing to do with us, right Mrs. Agnes?”

“Agreed.” Agnes replied with a soft grunt as she hopped down from the stool. “Probably best to avoid the whole matter.”

With that followed by a short stop to feed and water their horses, the two were back up in the wagon and on the road to Zylpolis.