[b]January 18. Kera-Bijan.[/b]

“Through fire are you redeemed,” intoned the priest, voice somber and monotone. It carried across the humble room, echoing and traveling along the walls, until the entire room was a symphony of his voice.

“Through fire am I redeemed,” said Satrap Kazosh, in a whisper. The priest removed a leather pouch from his robes, and from it produced a pinch of blue dust, that of crushed magic crystals. He flung it into the brazier in front of him, and the fire blazed up, spewing from it sparks of red and blue and yellow.

“Through water are you cleansed,” said the priest, pulling out another pinch. However, he stopped, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. “Let us finish this another time, Honored,” he said. Satrap Kazosh’s hand went to his beard, as it tends to do, and the priest went to the door. “Ah, ambassador. I welcome you in. Please, no consumption of substances within the temple room.”

Ambassador Tofku, a tall woman of formidable build, inclined her head, “My deepest apologies, Satrap. I would not intrude upon you in your personal time if I did not think it necessary. The matter can wait, should you need to finish, but please - this is not something that can go unaddressed.” She nodded too, at the priest, “My apologies to you too, herbad.”

“I shall leave you two alone,” said the priest, nodding his head and exiting. The door thumped, and like the priest’s voice, carried itself to all the corners of the chamber. Satrap Kazosh stood up, and scratched at his hairy chin.

“You interrupt nothing. This is more for me than it is for the gods. Perhaps you had not heard, but relations within the Excellency's council is a bit . . . strained. I can ask their forgiveness on my own time. What, may I ask, is this matter that is so pressing?”

“I had heard, and it to some extent the reason for my being here. I trust you know of the assassination of Satrap Bahar, yes?” She asked, taking no time to slow, assuming him to already be informed of the matter, “I have been given information that indicates there may be more to her death than… well, I apologize in advance, it would seem there is more to it than the usual backstabbing amongst the Kehmeyids. Obviously, you know of her opposition to involvement in the West - something that, informally, I can completely understand - my sources tell me this, rather than any jockeying for power or wealth is the motivation behind her death. It is my concern that you too, Satrap, may be at risk.” 

She frowned, “My source cannot tell me much, but claims to have been present during Bahar’s assassination - I cannot divulge his identity, I fear, but he claims to have overheard her killer speaking to her, and mention of Bahar’s ‘treason’. I am afraid I do not have much more than that, and I waited as long as I could stand, for the reliability of his memory was somewhat in doubt. I have had a doctor examine him, and she tells me he is of sound mind.”

“I hadn’t even realized Satrap Bahar was dead,” Kazosh said. “Your informant got lucky. Very lucky, to have both seen and heard such a murder taking place. The orchestrator must be either very stupid or very desperate.” He looked over at the fire, as it continued to burn on the brazier, and an expression of relief washed over his face. “There was a time, during the wars with Qaroitn, when a satrap passed at the hand of another as quickly as Shah Sannes could appoint them. We have taught ourselves as a people too well to kill without hating, to disassociate the action of taking life with the action of seeking vengeance. The killer did not hate his victim. He had something to gain. That would be . . . a half or more of every satrap in Zanateyin and the provinces of the shahdom. You’ll need more than petty hearsay for the Storm Guard to take any of your words for truth.”

“Then, satrap, I ask your assistance in finding the identity of her murder. That my source heard mention of treason tells me this is no minor disagreement over some small economic policy. That her death came so soon after leaving the council, and… the em, manner of her death. If what my source says is correct, she was rather violently dismembered, much of her body thrown for alley cats and dogs to devour. I may not be of Kera-Bijan myself, but such an extreme action tells me this either runs deep between them, or is a matter of considerable severity.” She frowned, “I have told my eyes and ears to listen and watch extra closely, but I nevertheless advise you, and perhaps I, take care where we step. Perhaps the killer may yet give themselves away.”

“Perhaps. Only the gods may know,” Kazosh sighed. He tugged at the loose strings of his beard with an idle hand, combing a hand through them. “Might I say, your Bijani is very good. Few westerners would honor us by learning our tongue, and thus we for the most part have taken to learning Rahuri ourselves.”

“Perhaps indeed, I shall keep my ears open, and I humbly ask you do the same. And please, take care where you step. I was not well acquainted with Bahar, but I did not know her to be one to take unnecessary risk.”

At his compliment, Tofku inclined her head, a small smile playing at her lips, “It is expected of any ambassador to know the native tongue of the people with whom they treat. Additionally, any ambassador is required to have a basic knowledge of the tongues of Kratoria, Cethos, Rotteburg, Anvegad, and Uruk. I have hired one of your own as a personal tutor as a matter of fact, to ensure my accent and pronunciation are as close as possible to that of the capital. I have also been studying the major regional dialects, just in case. It is in poor taste, after all, to come to a country ignorant of their language and customs.” 

Her smile turned into a broad grin, “I thank you, though. I and dare I say, the Realm as a whole, pride ourselves on learning, and that extends to language - I know many at home who study Bijani, and are quite fluent in it. If there is a known language, I assure you, someone in the Realm has made it their task to write down everything about it.” Smiling wider, she continued, “That said, there is something to Bijani that makes it a delightful language to speak. I would be happy to show you my practice on Bijani calligraphy sometime, satrap.” 

“I’d be honored,” Kazosh said. He bowed to the ambassador. “Thank you for the offer, as well as the warning. I will consider them both deeply. Now, if you would excuse me, I must make my peace with the gods. No doubt they are disappointed in me for my giving in to anger.”


TL:DR:
Etremaden Ambassador informs Satrap Kazosh of Bahar's death, they discuss the matter, and calligraphy