The Easterner

You approach the merchant and begin conversing. "Welcome Outlander, what brings you to my table?" you ask. "Salaam Alaikum, your lordship," he says with a heavy accent but otherwise perfect speech , emphasizing his s and o sounds. "I am but a humble trader from the lands of the Asavid Sultan. There I am known as an adventurous trader, which resulted in the receipt of my sacred duty. My lord gave me the great honor of bringing a message to you, along with a collection of gifts. The court official he sent with me has unfortunately perished during one of the ambushes we suffered on our journey. As such, I am entitled to deal on his behalf. We may discuss such business here, or we may speak in the privacy of my personal wagon." He ends by emphasizing this second option, speeding through the first.

"Why might we not speak here?" you ask in youthful naivete. "Yes, your people have always been rather direct. However, in our lands it is customary to speak of important business when and where few may overhear." Having said this, he glances around your busy feast hall, and it occurs to you that perhaps talking important business in front of dozens of self-serving nobles isn't the best idea. "I do not mean any pressure my lord. Enjoy your feast, and seek me out if you so wish." He stands after finishing his sentence, and makes many strange gestures of respect before departing.

After the feast, you go to find the trader-turned-diplomat. His caravan is parked within the city walls, taking up the space reserved for the weekly trade fair. He has obviously been waiting for you, and comes your way as soon as he spots you. "Welcome my friend!" he exclaims, all smiles and practiced exuberance. You meet him halfway and exchange the usual courtesies. "Come into my wagon," he says, waving you forward. You climb the small set of steps and enter the covered wagon, which smells of sweat, manure, and strange spices. Upon entering you find it surprisingly roomy, though since it is meant to carry as many good as possible you feel a bit silly for thinking so. A couple of chairs have been set out, and a man with midnight-black skin waits silently on the two of you.

Once you have settled into your respective chairs, your guest starts talking again. "I hope that your lordship has not forgotten about the trade deal your ancestor worked-out with my sultan's ancestor?" You give him your assurances that you do, and he nods in satisfaction. "Well, that is the first subject of our talks. This trade route, though admirable in it's ambition, is beset by many difficulties. The way is long and arduous enough as is, but recently the **** experienced by our merchants in the lands of the barbarian tribes threatens our continued link. Our court official was but one of many casualties suffered on the route." You give your condolences, and he starts up yet again. "I know that your kingdom has no legal authority over these people, but something must be done. Our sultan cannot spare the troops needed, as he is embroiled in a war of his own that requires all of his resources. Thus, I propose that you undertake to safeguard the route, through any method of your choice. Be it conquest, razing the barbarians to the dust, establishment of guard posts...you get the idea." "Well," you say "though currently at peace my resources are limited as well. My reign, being new, is not yet secure. Thus, moving my forces east could leave me open to danger. Do you understand my position?" "Of course, your grace. I shall let you ponder the question. In the meantime, I must apologize. I have forgotten your gift, from the gracious sultan himself!" He claps his hands, and the black man exits the wagon, apparently to fetch this "gift".