Yesterday, I reached the capital of Al'uru, Tik Ha, where I was invited to dinner by city planner Xho Findah, his wife Tui, and their son Dakher, set up to take over his father's position when he retires (if he ever does). The consulate building, which I had only seen from the outside during my visits to the city, was more extravagant on the inside than its bare outer walls and simple archways indicated, though its blue dome which was gilded with the most magnificent patterns was still most magnificent. Inside, marble statues, bronze fixtures, and a jungle's worth of plants demonstrated the power of Consul Yabloka and the riches he had accumulated in Al'uru's twenty-year-long streak of prosperity. I met the Findah's at the bottom of a seemingly endless staircase that stretched up, past the decadent fountains and chiseled figures, into the ceiling. We ascended the stairs and I could see just how massive the entrance hall was. As the most physically fit in our group, I reached the top first and saw that the restaurant must have been within the dome itself. Large windows, almost twice my size, ran along half of the dome and led out to a railed balcony where the entire city of Tik Ha was visible. I could even see as far as the outskirts of the city where grain and lambs were cultivated. My party regrouped and we all made our way towards a table. I was surprised to see that it was constructed to accommodate my size, raised tall for a large chair, and was grateful upon finding it a comfortable seat. The Findah's sat upon bar stools and everyone seemed quite happy. Though I cannot discuss what we spoke of at this table, I will say that Dakher Findah seems to be quite arrogant. and as a former IDL commanding officer, I feel a responsibility in making sure he matures
before he takes office.
About seven young nymphs, All with short stubble on their heads, approached our table laden with golden plates where beautiful spread was laid before us. A whole lamb had been killed in my honor and its steam was mouth-watering. It came surrounded by dolma, turmeric rice, and seared potatoes. To make the meal all the more enticing, a gilded casket of wine was brought to the table. It was opened and upon its blue velvet lining laid a sloshing bottle of locally produced date wine. As a nymph raised it up, it caught the sunlight and sent orange light cascading down upon the table. My goblet was filled near the top, which I think must have been a mistake, but I carefully brought it to my lips before taking a gulp. It was a smooth and sweet drink, with a kick that only set in later on in the night, sending the smallest of tingling sensations and barely indicating intoxicating powers. I was careful to not drink all of the wine before finishing my lamb. The meat was so tender it felt almost as if I had sunk my teeth into butter. I remember specifically pressing my spear into a sliver of it and watching the juices spill out upon my plate. The potatoes and roughage were well seasoned and I even liked the dolma, though sour flavors are not usually appealing to me.
When we had gorged ourselves fully and felt the soothing effects of the wine wash over the collective party, four small plates with a little square of cake were throughout out. The cake had a jelly-like consistency, and when I tasted it I got the impression of cocoa, earth, and plantains. It must have been imported which I found disheartening as I wanted to try whatever the staple dessert of Tik Ha is, but it was satisfactory none the less, if not a little bland. By the time the sun had gone down, we gave our parting words and left for the night. I walked to the hostel alone, feeling content.
(Afraid I have been, yet again, cut out of the picture. I don't blame the poor girl though, it would be hard for me to capture us all in the frame if I were on my tiptoes too.)
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