Marketplace - The Golden Hall

     The marketplace is half open-air, half scattered buildings in a maze of 
narrow roads and back alleys. It's a disorganized hive, the natural reaction of 
a city that grew up around a single structure over time and without any 
direction. Buildings nestle close only to suddenly have wide gaps between others; 
still, there are plenty of roads that one can take, and they all lead down the 
center - the road up the hill.
     From that singular road - the same one that leads to the Phoenix Gate and 
all the way up to the Castle on the Hill - there is one other distinct branch; 
while the market wraps around one side of the castle, the village, where most 
folk live and some farm is found to the other side of that great thoroughfare. 
One just has to cross it and leave the warrens of the marketplace to get there. 
On the other hand, in the opposite direction, through the twisting roads, one 
can eventually find the Parade Grounds, where the Field of Tourney is and those 
who have a martial streak can find others of their own ilk...

Contents:
Albedo
Albedo's Somewhat Abandoned Flat
Obvious exits:
Phoenix Nest <PH>  Parade Grounds <PG>  Village <V>  Up The Hill <UH>  
Thoroughfare <TH>

     It is at this point that our hero is seriously reconsidering his decision 
to never acquire a horse and simply walk everywhere in the Dream. It's but a 
passing fancy, though; once Albedo has made a decision on something it's rare, 
very rare, for him to renege unless something else (a god, his twin brother, 
something worse and more improbable) should intervene. Even so, it would be nice 
to not be so *tired* all the time on arriving anywhere.
     At least--it seems--nothing has gone seriously wrong with the Hall in his 
absence. Everything is where he (fuzzily) remembered it to be, and there are no 
new ghosts to greet him as he makes his through the Hall's marketplace. Quieter, 
at this time of the evening, than the usual daily hubble-bubble, but not 
completely absent of noise and people; it's a boon, though, to a soul already 
weary from travel.
     Well, Griffin Vulture had never said it would be easy, but He had said the 
work would be worth it. Something that Albedo finds himself reflecting on as he 
pauses at a half-familiar corner, slipping his hands in the pockets of his coat 
and...wondering just which direction he's supposed to turn from here. "Give me 
updates on the state of the dead in the board, let me know exactly where Arlen 
is and what he's up to, but can't let a man remember where he intended to sleep 
tonight..." the retrovirus mutters to himself, half-amused, half-annoyed.


     A wise decision, Setsuri would say, if she ever learned of it--she'd made a 
similar one some time ago, but had had to give it up because of the sheer 
utility of riding and the ubiquitousness of horses. Still, she's never grown 
fond of the beasts, and considers them better sent to the glue factory or as 
food than as a comfortable mode of transport. But that's a (rather short, 
actually) rant for another time. For now? Algiz's mind is far from horses, or 
transportation, or really travel of any sort. In fact, she's currently embroiled 
in dressing down a rather chastened-looking adolescent, in stentorian tones that 
do remarkably well at cutting across the usual din of the marketplace.
     "...ever catch you indulging in such underhanded acts again, be certain 
that you will face more than a simple tongue-lashing that I will be certain to 
deliver personally," she finishes, her voice dipping into a low tone on the last 
word that is somehow the more threatening for their very quietness. "There are 
places you /can/ turn to in such situations." Although from the way she says it, 
it seems less reassurance than growled promise. "Anez," she snaps, and a guard 
hurries over quickly from a nearby post, saluting. "If you would escort this 
young man to Berkano." The guard offers another salute and a quick, "Yes, 
Algiz," before hurrying off with the ashen-faced teen in tow.
     Waiting until the two are well away, Setsuri finally relaxes her features 
from their scowl--not that it proves much of a change, as her expression shifts 
into simple neutrality. She did so hate catching thieves, especially in a place 
where it simply wasn't necessary to steal for a living--which in her mind is the 
only acceptable explanation for stealing. Better to put the fear of the gods--or 
at least Algiz--in them if she did catch them. That dealt with, however, she 
could continue on her interrupted patrol beat...
     ...or she would, if it weren't for the strange presence that calls out to 
her as she passes a corner. There's a nagging sense of familiarity, the sense of 
not-quite-recognition, kin-not-kin... the sensation of another Priest nearby. Of 
what god, she isn't certain, but a Priest of any god is something to at least 
investigate while she's around. Pausing, she turns slightly toward the source, 
toward Albedo.


     Well. Reading the riot act to youths caught stealing is all well and good 
in Albedo's book; Setsuri's voice is the commanding sort that manages to worm 
its way past the white-haired man's weary musing, wiggle inside and crawl down 
his brainstem to sink its teeth into that lizard-brain nodule of guilt shared by 
children and the eternal immature. The less poetic might think of it as the "I 
didn't do it!" cortex.
     He blinks once, before shaking his head and turning his eyes briefly in the 
direction of the commotion. Juvenile delinquent, check; guards, check; Swan's 
priest and the Runeholder of Algiz, ch-- Oh ho. The URTV passes a hand over his 
eyes briefly, taking a moment to shake the cobwebs out. Generally his 
hallucinations take stranger forms than the woman he'd been intending to find 
right out in the middle of the street, but he's tired, and such mistakes do 
happen.
     When he opens his eyes again to find his fellow Priest hasn't grown antlers, 
disappeared, or sprouted technicolor fur and is, in fact, headed his way--Albedo 
smiles, just a little. Something about her appearance causes him to make a noise 
of amusement low in his throat, amusement and a sort of dawning realization. He 
pulls his hands from his pockets, taking a cat-footed step or two in Setsuri's 
direction.
     "Algiz?" There's weariness in his baritone voice, but it doesn't quite hide 
the undercurrent of perpetual amusement.


     Hmm. She'll have to practice that particular mix of outrage, disappointment, 
and sheer irritation, if it proves so effective at getting people's attention. 
For now, though, Setsuri should probably practice other things, like how to 
remain calm when strange people are calling your name. ... curiously, this one 
she's actually had practice with. At least, enough that when the unknown Priest 
steps toward her as she turns to observe him, she merely tilts her head slightly. 
If he is a Priest, he can likely sense her just as well as she can sense him, 
and if he knows anything about the Hall, he might be aware of who Algiz is. 
There aren't that many around that fit her description, after all. The amusement 
that wafts off his emotional aura makes her pause for a moment, though, slightly 
puzzled before she nods a polite greeting to the man approaching her. "Good day, 
ah..." A moment of inquiry, and knowledge wafts down into her mind. This one is 
one who, after all, does not long go unnoticed by the local gods, given his 
particular patron. "... Griffin Vulture," she finishes, slightly quizzically. 
"What brings you to the city?" Unless he lived here, and she just wasn't aware 
of it? Hopefully she hasn't been out of touch with the community's goings-on for 
that long, though.


     That amusement is something that just...never seems to go away. It's a 
strange man that Griffin Vulture has chosen to be His priest, but nevertheless, 
here Albedo is. The whole journey has been something of a growing experience, 
but it's nothing he'd trade in for the world--or the Dream, for that matter. He 
smiles, fractionally, as Setsuri acknowledges him; he was a resident of the Hall, 
once, but mostly kept to himself and eventually disappeared from the ranks of 
the Backguard. So it really comes as no surprise that he should be unfamiliar 
around here--and really, he likes it that way.
     "Albedo," he volunteers. "I'm still a little new to the position. Haven't 
gotten all the shiny rubbed off yet." He almost offers a hand to her, then 
hesitates, and pulls it back. It's like Nanashi all over again. The retrovirus's 
world was advanced enough that blindness was nonexistant, but here... He finds 
his words again to cover the brief, probably awkward pause. "I just have a 
message to deliver. To you, as it happens. Someone's smiling on me today."
     Beat. "Unless there's been any recent deaths here I should know of, that I 
have yet to be," he taps one clawed finger against his temple, unable to 
suppress the urge toward motion, "informed of."