[b]Outskirts of Manyaa[/b]

The sky grew overcast as the travelers crested over the hills, bearing down across a landscape of farm-choked deltas. Large wooded orchards and acres of golden crops exploded outwards from a dabbling of small settlements, orbiting in a circuit around vast city-scape that lapsed and bellowed over the hills and across the river and stream channels that coursed towards the sea. The city of Manyaa, brooded over by a crimson palace and keep and grimly observed by a towering statue that reached for the sky.

“Welcome to my home.” the satyr prince smiled as his chariot rattled to a stop alongside where his companion stood, reigns of his horse wrapped firmly in his hands as he stood looking down at the metropolis nestled in the river's bosom. Stone walls of a deep crimson ran across the river delta. Guard towers stood sentry, red and white banners fluttering in the sea-born winds beyond the city and the hills and the country.

Five great hills stood at the city's edge, lorded over by separate citadels. The central palace, perched on an island, slept like a turtle in the cool river mud that washed its edges. Behind the battlements pillaring minarets and the spires of temples rose to the sky like a quiver of arrows. The forest of spires swam among an ocean of green gardens and courtyards between the rings and rows of houses and the narrow gridded streets below.

“It's an impressive city.” the man complimented, “I haven't seen a realm as magnificent.”

“My grandfather, Raja Hestanelada Radapana, was rather forward in the investment of the realm, so I've been told. He donated plenty of coin to any would-be guild, merchant, or craftsmen who came to court. On the conditions they remained in the area for the better part of two generations and when they adventures bore fruit they repay the coin.

“When Balanmala – my father – was crowned he stepped in quite a mud puddle that dirtied his impression of grandfather's initiatives. Only one in five of the guilds repaid their investment in kind, the others – just as successful – had withheld without oversight.”

“And they've paid still?” the man asked.

“Of course not.” the Radapanid prince sneered, “Still, seven of ten were corralled in paying back with interest. But the others haven't. He doesn't want to upset what his father has accomplished and destroy the city he managed to build over thirty years. So he's played along with them.”

“I take it your a numbers sort.” his human companion nodded.

“Of course.” the satyr smiled proudly, “I was sent to hire you for a reason.”

“What else do you know about the city?” the human adventurer quizzed as they passed down the low bank of a hill. Passing by groves of succulent, sweet oranges. The ripened fruits hung off the emerald boughs of the fruit trees like tiny suns. The smell of the road as they walked was sweet. The air tasted like fruit. And the path was awash with color.

“Not a whole lot.” the prince feebly admitted, “I haven't memorized everything about the city. Nor do I care too. I don't administrate Manyaa in the same way I'm being groomed to council any of my older brothers to rule it.

“I can tell you it's perhaps about half a day's walk from the coast if you travel casually.” he nodded confidently. He bowed low out of the way of a wayward orange branch as they continued the shallow climb down the dusty road. Moss and vine-covered stone walls flanking the way, guarding the rich orchards from the wayward traveler, at least in theory; in realities the holes in the wall were far too great to render the wall anything more than a suggestion.

“It's close enough that for sea-ward ships that it's a port merchants come to. The river is deep enough to permit many large vessels, and the water calm enough to shelter many.” he nodded in the distance, pointing out to the wide waterway that wrapped around the turtle-shell of a palace. The faint triangles of white sails were hazily visible on the horizon, “As you can tell.”

“I imagine I will not get the time to see the city.”

“Hardly not. We should have set up for our voyage by the time we arrive. We'll have the night to rest before we leave for Samana.”

“Why not meet there?”

“Because my brother set off about the same time I did to get another recruit, our guide. The presumption being he would be back with him by the time we arrive there, even if he left by boat.”

“Seems like a long discrepancy of time.” the mercenary admitted.

“It is when you're venturing into the mountains.”