78 Toroa a land of hectic politics (1/2)

With a dull sigh I waded through the mob of people. All around me I could see the people going about their daily work.

The island seemed to be the most peaceful and otherwise normal of the three that I had visited so far topping Las Camp with its sheer size and attention to detail.

While Las Camp seemed to be fashioned without a proper plan in mind, Toroa had so far displayed the opposite tendencies.

The road leading into town from the dock was paved with grass and greenery on either side, and each crossing held a sign that one could refer to for directions.

As I had exited from the dock, I had heard the people hawking their various products. The merchant ships had unloaded their cargo straight into the hands of the shops that stood out at the entrance to the pier, which seemed to serve as the island's markets.

Only intensive stores like the weapon smiths or the cartographers held shop at the inside of the island, mainly because of how sensitive their products were as compared to the ones being sold at the docks.

That being the case, I could not help but look critically at this design choice. Leaving the food suppliers of the entire island to the mercy of anyone that set foot on the island, seemed counterintuitive to the whole concept of maintaining prosperity, but I digressed.

Well colored buildings stood out in the light of the day uncannily as neighbors greeted each other warmly. The foot traffic on the roads was quite heavy, and I had even sometimes felt a wave of slight claustrophobia in certain pathways.

At the very centre of a four sided crossing there stood a majestic fountain that many children played around. The falling water gave both an aesthetic affect to the pristine roads and also served as a breath of cool air to all those who passed the structure.

Unfortunately, I did not come here to sightsee. Of our journey so far I could wager that this island was by far the island that I wanted to stay in the longest for.

With a dull final glance at the tall fountain and the joyful expression of the children in the distance I walked into a small unassuming building.

It was a pub. A tavern to be precise and was called the fountain side bar, quite unoriginal but critiquing the names of buildings was not the reason I was here.

As I entered I was met with an exquisite yellow light that illuminated the otherwise bland bar.

Wooden tables were neatly arranged with four to five chair for each one. At the very centre of the room stood a small and unassuming counter behind which stood a stocky man.

The man was bald with a black beard on his face being the only hair that he had. His piercing hazel eyes stared at me for a second, before dismissing me and going back to the shot glass that he was polishing with a dirty grey rag.

With a slow and steady step I walked up to the counter and sat myself on one of the wooden stools that was placed overlooking the counter.

The man glanced at me sparingly ”What dya want? Ale? Happy hours are at noon so the strong ones aren't served till then, if ya want a water I can tell you a good place to get it, now we offer only some mead.” He said with a raspy voice before looking back down bored.

”I want to meet with Sai.. I heard that you could get me to him.”

”Mead'r get out!” he snapped harshly seeming to have tuned me out when the first words out of my mouth weren't 'mead' or 'I'm sorry'.

With a groan and a quick face palm a voice called out from behind him. ”God damnit! Asshole don't insult me in front of the guests!”

With a grunt from behind the counter, a wooden door slid out to reveal the form of a shaggy brown haired well built man. The man had a tubular torso, and a set of sideburns that could almost be confused for a beard.