Chapter 1
While the former concubines were getting their goods ready, Bathsheba went across the street to the Palace Inn to get a room for all 10 of the young women. The innkeeper obviously had a lot of room open, as there were only a few guests there, but he was giving Bathsheba a hard time.
"Look, lady, if you want 10 rooms for long term you are going to have to pay an extra, ahem, fee," the innkeeper, a grizzled balding blonde man said.
"Look, mister, if you do not provide the ten rooms at a reasonable rate, I will sick my husband, the Directrix, on you, and you will be lucky to end up with all of your fingers and toes intact, to say the least of your assets," Bathsheba responded.
The innkeeper thought about that for a few seconds, and trying to put a good face in matters, agreed to moderate his demands. After all, it was important to keep one's business, as well as one's body parts, intact, and the innkeeper knew of Natonito's infamous rage.
"Alright, lady, you can have the rooms for the special price of 45 diners per night," the innkeeper said, charging his usual rate.
"That is a fair price. The deal is made," Bathsheba said evenly.
That done, she decided to take an inspection of the rooms to see
if they were of high enough quality to suit her tastes. When she was done
with the rather desultory check, which confirmed that while the rooms were
comfortable they were hardly palatial, she decided to check out the
company in the diner. She found the company rather dreary. Most of the
people there were middle aged guys who were slumped over the bar drinking
some infernal concoction. Some of them kept on saying "another hell on
earth
One person, however, caught her eye. He was a cleric, the only other sober person in the room besides her and the unfortunate bartender, a busy young lady who the old codgers kept on groping at to her frustration. The cleric, on the other hand, was very polite, almost amazingly so. He wore white robes, which was unusual, and he was a rather youngish man with blond hair and freckles, sort of a religious version of her husband.
"Excuse me, sir, what is your name, and why are you wearing the white robes? I see you are intent in writing something," Bathsheba asked the man.
"My name is Wilfred Smith. I am a cleric of the Order of the Creator. I am working on writing my doctoral dissertation at the University on the one true God, who created the world and the mages to rule over it," the cleric responded.
"That is really interesting. I have always wondered about the beginning of all things. What sort of evidence are you using in your thesis?" Bathsheba responded.
"Well, all of the myths about the mages, collected in various countries and languages, all have their beginnings at a particular point in time. At that time, there appears to have been only a small group of human beings, who were monotheistic. In fact, it is quite possible that the small group of humans was somehow righteous and was given eternal life as a result. I still have to look that up," the cleric responded.
"Well, continue on with your work. I am sure my husband will look forward to reading it, after all, he is the Directrix," Bathsheba said.
"Well, I hope he enjoys it. It is high praise when one can please the people in charge. I would like to do research part time and spend the rest as a minister to the common people of this city. They need faith in God, and all the spiritual guidance we can give them," the cleric responded sadly.
"I agree with you there," Bathsheba said as she got up and walked out.
At least the trip had gone well, Bathsheba thought as she crossed the street back home, where the concubines had readied their belongings together, as they headed off towards a strange new life. As Bathsheba opened the door everyone prepared to follow her back across the street.
[ Chapter 2 ]
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