A Court of Queens

Willkommen in Batavick

They strolled into a small village with a dirt road and a few cottages. Jazlyn and Aldini's presence and appearance drew attention from the towns folks, the village folk stared and some children pointed. They crossed paths with a man pulling a herd of goats behind him.

"Which way to the capital?" The bilingual bandit asked the man. The man pointed south at the mountain range that peaked on the horizon. "Thanks." the bandit said.

As the mountains came into view they passed by a city of small wooden shacks. The inhabitants pushed wheelbarrows full of dug-up earth, they all wore masks of ash and soot, and if their clothes were meant to be any color besides black it was impossible to tell. "No offense but Batavick is kind of a shithole, it's certainly not what I expected," Jazlyn said to the bandit.

"Trust me there's more than meets the eye."

"How so?" Jazlyn asked.

"It's a nation built off mining so the best parts of it are underground," he said. The bandit pointed around at the villagers. "These people aren't even from Batavick at least not originally."

"Where are these people from?" Jazlyn asked.

"Assax, Batavick people look a lot different than that." the bandit said.

"What do Batavick people look like?" she asked.

"Trust me you'll know when you see them." the bandit said.

As they ascended further up the mountain the sight of stone constructions built into the mountainside became more frequent and grander in size, the stone pathways were sturdier and finer paved. At the mountain peak, the stone steps plateaued into a flat walkway leading to an iron gate border guarded by two men.

The guards wore long white tunics with black gloves and thin chest plates. They had swords by their sides and helmets that obscured their faces. Jazlyn and Aldini dismounted their steeds and approached the guard.

"Papers please?" The guard asked monotonously.

"I don't um. My name's Jazlyn Nahalal. I'm the Queen of Agrabah."

"Yeah and I'm the King of Faeryland, nice to meet you," the guard said.

"Look I need to speak with the Queen," Jazlyn said.

"Did she send for you." the guard said opening his palm to accept a letter.

"Well no, not exactly."

"Look we can't let anyone inside without a proper record." the guard said.

"Do you have any identification or documents, period?" the other guard asked.

"Uhhh" Jazlyn stammered.

Aldini put himself in the guards' shoes and envisioned what he would request from a foreigner upon entry into the kingdom. "Yes," Aldini said holding a paper in his hand. He handed the document over to the guard. "I Aldini Abwhani, of uhh." he stumbled through the sentence trying to remember the little Batavick that Jazlyn had taught him.

"- of the Agrabhic Royal Guard." Jazlyn translated for him. "My identification number is 4816818"

Aldini rolled down his sleeve and showed them the ٤۸۱٦۸۱۸ tattooed on his wrist.

The guards peered back and forth between the document and the marking on Aldini's arm. They looked at each other for a moment sharing the same indecisive expression. The man cleared his throat and spoke quite unconfidently. "I can't even read Agrabhic. So I can't confirm or deny this," the man said.

"It's not a common tongue so we don't have any translators for you here," he shrugged apologetically.

"W-w-wait what about Ibrahim." the other guard said.

"Hmm but he speaks Atlantic not Agrabhic, it's different."

"It's the next best thing." The guard handed Aldini back his document. "I think he's your best shot, he's got a merchant's license. If he can vouch for you I can let you in."

"Where could we find Ibrahim?" Jazlyn asked.

"He lives in Buschnict, it's southeast just off the river."

"Thank you."