[Chinthe District] Adobe or Not Dobe [Amarillo's Home]

[Amarillo]

TIMESTAMP: 28 Pontius, Era I of Celestine Mandate. Era XV PF.

After entering through the Shisa Gates, the latest Kemite arrival had managed to find his way to a moderately-clluttered lane in the Chinthe District. There, nestled halfway down one of the district's more noisome blocks (perhaps two lanes west of the Wolfmoon Tavern), wedged between a taller structure of an off-white hue and a similar-sized chunk of masonry with a yellowish tinge stood the reddish walls of a small hovel. Not much to look at from the street side, it appeared to have a single doorway (opening inward) with a single step between it and the lane proper. The tall but narrow window located to the right of the doorway was covered by stout wooden shutters.

Taking the wooden key from the small sack of belongings he had brought with him from the Outlands, the dark-haired youth inspected it and, somewhat dubiously, inserted it into the locking mechanism of the stout wooden doorway. With a half-heard click, the lock opened to reveal a dusty expanse of tiled floor, perhaps 20 feet in width and 12 feet in depth - measuring depth from the street, of course. In the left corner, near the back, was a small alcove perhaps 5 feet wide by 8 feet deep. Centered at the very back of the alcove was another wooden door. On the right side of the alcove, an opening revealed a second tiled room behind the first, approximately 15 feet wide and 8 feet deep. It had two small windows, each about a man's height above the floor, each also having wooden shutters.

Turning himself to allow his gaze to wnader over the rest of the empty front room, Amariilo noted that in the front right corner, away from both the front door and the main window, a small hearth butted closely against the outer wall shared with the off-white building to the north. Sighing, he also saw that the hearth was completely bare; no kindling, pots, pans, or other utensils lay in the vicinity. Grimacing, he rubbed his left hand against the outside of his meager sack, knowing full well the handful of coins inside would not go far at all - not at city prices!

Ah well ... best be about the business of setting up a home!

Before stepping back out into the street, the new owner checked that the rearmost door was fastened securely from the inside, even though there was nothing of value inside. May as well start the habit now, because there will certainly be something here someday he thought as he stepped back into the lane, locking the front door behind him.

[Amarillo]

It had been one of those cycles ... with all the background work required at the Ivory Tower, Amarillo had pretty much ended his days sound aslepp on the bare floor. No amount of energy could be wasted on such ephimeral niceties as obtaining furniture, decorating the barren walls, or even doing much in the way of cleaning. Of course, with only himself in residence - and not even being in the building from before dawn to well after dusk - it never got all THAT dirty!

Today, though, was different. It bad enough that he had to scrub away at the accumulated debris of several brightenings. The floor needed washing, the rooms needed airing, and the walls needed cleaning.

With these thoughts uppermost in his mind, the young Kemite threw open the rear door first to let in the slight breeze passing over the barren patch of ground just outside. He then turned to the front and opened the heavy wooden street door wide as well, propping it open with a small cobble that was lying near the step.

Turning back to the interior, he stood a minute or two, pondering what to do next.

[Amarillo]

It had been an usually busy day for the budding bard; things had been on left unattended around his home for far too long. Returning from an atypical morning stroll down to the plaza near the Wolfmoon, he spread the day's Herald out where he could easily read the broadsheet.

What's this? A directive from the Royal Magus that .... LICENSES ... mages within the Emprie's borders! Let's see ...

Reading further, Amarillo discovered that not only would the schools be required to obtain licences, but so too would all who intended to teach a Sphere and, ultimately, all who intended to pursue their Art to the upper realms of the possible.

Bureaucracies aren't known for doing much good, in my experience! How will the thing be enforced? What is the exact legality of this proposal? How will it affect Zinn ... particularly the Tower and the Monastery? Does our present Thane even know about this ... or is he likely to be faced with an arcane uprising?

Scrabbling in his pack (a gift from the Tower when he first enrolled as an Initiate in the Sphere of Song), the dark-haired young man drew forth an empty parchment and a quill that had obviously seen better days. Digging deeper, he sought a jar of ink to use for his missive. Unfortunately, the only one available had dried out beyond repair. Grimacing in distaste, he eyed the somewhat dull implement and grunted quietly. Holding the feather in his left hand, he stretched out his right forearm and brought the blunted end down sharply against the exposed vein just below the elbow.

Drawing a miniscule amount of blood, he proceeded to pen the following letter. When he had finished, and had bandaged his arm with a scrap of rag also retrieved from his pack, he set forth to the local establishment from whence the document could be posted to the Herald offices. He only just managed to remember to close the front door in his wake, so intent was he upon making his stand against the perceived idiocy of the Royal Magus' stance ... if he could find him, he'd even bring it to the attention of the Thane of the City of Song.

[Lyssoryl]

Melora 12th, Winter- Era I Celestine - ERA XV (PF)

It was midmorning, and Lyssoryl had on a freshly cleaned peasant dress, and a basket full of oatmeal cookies with raisins in them in her hand. Things had been quite busy for her of late, but she found that she had free time this morning, and so had come visiting.

She knocked on Amarillo's door, hoping that he was home. "Serale!" she called out. "Is this the home of Amarillo?"

[Amarillo]

12 Melora - Era I Celestine - ERA XV (PF)

The shutters and doors were still closed; it wasn't all that far into the brightening, but the Kemite had been trying to refresh his inner strength by catching up on his sleep. Of course, not having a real bed ... or chair, or table, or any other recognizable piece of furniture made resting in his home something of an adventure. And although he lived in the Chinthe District a good stone's throw from the Wolfmoon, no one had ever bothered to approach his home ... at least, not while he was present.

Thus the first knock was ignored; in his half-asleep condition, the young man expected it to be the neighbor to the east ... they were always having some sort of guest arrive or a delivery made. However, the subsequent contact of a smallish hand against the sturdy wood of his front door brought Amarillo completely into the land of the wakeful.

By all the Aetherians ... why did a brightening have to start so early? I've hardly slept a candlemark in the past cycle, thanks to that earlier epsiode with the madman Black - not to mention the music/dance interlude at the Performing Arts center last Thera. And what is it now ... Dianara? Just to be able to take one brightening and spend it doing nothing but sitting by the river - frozen though it is - and scribbling some lyrics, or practising what I've learned from Luminous ...

His thoughts were completely scrambled by the sound of a young woman's voice asking for him by name. He scrambled quickly from the pile of rags he'd ... acquired ... from around the neighborhood and kicked it unceremoniously into the corner of the back room. A quick run of his hands through his typically-unkempt dark hair and a fingernail dragged across his front teeth made as much of a toilet as could be accomplished without access to running water. As he made his way toward the front door he called out a greeting in return. "Serale, mistress. You have the right of it ... I'll be there in but a moment."

He reached for the bolt and eventually drew it back, fighting with the recalcitrant item a moment before the mechanism actually released. Got to remember to pay more attention to the wood, now that winter is coming to an end. A bit of grease might come in handy, what with the spring rains already in the offing.

Grabbing the inner handle, he pulled the door open. On his stoop stood the woman who had been drumming at the Center for Performing Arts, wearing a clean dress and carrying a basket. The smell of fresh baking wafted up from the container, causing a small rumble of yearning to echo from the dark-haired youth's stomach region. Guiltily, he pressed his free right hand to the offending area and ...

... realized he was about to be further humiliated before his guest. For his hand pressed against the bare skin of his torso ... he'd removed his shirt before falling asleep the darkening before, in a bachelor's attempt to keep it clean for the morrow. And the garment still lay on the floor of the back room ... Probably where I kicked the "bed" this dawning, I suppose. Nothing for it but to brazen it out, now ...

"Again, I say serale to you, mistress. As you can see, I am indeed Amarillo ..." he paused to show a flash of white teeth in a slightly lopsided grin "... in the flesh. No pun intended, believe me!"

He looked enquiringly at the basket and sniffed appreciatively. "Come in, come in! I'm afraid I've naught but water to offer at this time of the brightening, but you're welcome to some, if you'd like."

He moved aside to let her enter, bowing from the waist as he did so. If she glanced past him, she would see the main room of his home - empty of everything but a set of shelves along the left hand wall, near the door to the rear of the property. The shelves contained a set of four wooden goblets of mediocre workmanship, four plattens of similar manufacture and quality, and one of the earthenware pitchers so prevalent in the City of Song.

As he striaghtened, he continued. "Don't stand on ceremony ... I don't bite. Those rumors are completely untrue." A sly wink indicated he was making fun of himself; the presence of the young woman had done much to raise his spirits and he now looked forward to whatever the brightening had to offer.

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl stepped through the door after only a moments hesitation. "I don't know if you remember me, but I rather suspect you do, if only because the local Cether are not numerous. But my name is Lyssoryl, in case you'd forgotten."

"Anyway, I was thinking, and it occured to me that you could likely use some oatmeal raisin cookies. One needs fuel if one is to be a musician." She gave Amarillo the basket, and an accompanying appraising look. "I've decided I'm in favor of the fashion where men go without shirts, and I hope it spreads like wildfire throughout the city."

She sat down cross-legged on the floor. "I have a more actual reason why I am here as well. I can't remember if I mentioned this, but I aspire to be a travelilng musician. I have given it some thought, and I think that there should be a guild of traveling peformers that I can join. Since right now there isn't, that leaves it to me to start one. I was wondering if you wanted in on the ground floor."

[Amarillo]

Lyssoryl was correct, as it seemed she often was. The young man still standing in the doorway in dishabille did indeed remember the feminine Cether. After all, one didn’t see such an individual pounding away on percussion instruments every day. In point of fact – one almost NEVER saw such an occurrence … unless one happened to be in the City of Song. Although the name had initially escaped him, her gentle reminder as she entered prompted a return of the lop-sided grin. More precisely, it made the grin wider than it had previously been. He started to speak, saying “Serale then, Mistress Lyssoryl …” but was cut off by the way she thrust the basket of baked goods at him, as she was daring him to NOT reach out and catch hold of the handle.

Bemused, he listened as she described the basket’s contents. Oatmeal cookies, hmmmm? Kind of sweet, but perhaps just the perfect thing for a Dianara like this is becoming. he thought. As she continued to speak, his thoughts – still somewhat slow because of the abruptness of his rising – struggled to keep up with the flow of conversation. As her next words regarding men without shirts registered, an amazingly deep red blush began to make its way from his exposed collarbone toward the roots of his unkempt dark hair. For he had come to the conclusion she was either perfectly sagacious in her observation – in which case, he hadn’t a clue as to how to proceed – or she was making fun of his lack of proper attire. The frank appraisal in her glance did nothing to lessen the sense of embarrassment Amarillo was suffering … and perhaps abetted the situation.

As she assumed her cross-legged position on the still-empty floor, he took the opportunity to close the door and set the basket aside. It was still within easy reach of both of them; the young man removed a single cookie and took a huge bite, vainly trying to keep the resultant crumbs for spraying everywhere. In his struggles, he noted that the Cether had intimated that she, too, was a musician of sorts. Swallowing quickly, he started to put a word in. “Did you want …”, was all he managed to convey before being steamrollered by the more diminutive woman’s conversational skills.

So … she wants to start a traveling performers’ group, hmmm? I certainly don’t know of any … and it seems she doesn’t either. She’s mentioned she’s looking for a partner. Would that be a fellow artist? Or … his eyebrows rose in alarm as his thoughts ran their course. Or does she expect ME to be a financial backer of her program?

He had no idea of the costs associated with such an enterprise; he’d assumed a performer in one of the venues around the city made a few crowns for the work, but he’d never given a thought to the staging of such an event. He pondered a moment after the woman had finished speaking – partly to allow his own thoughts to gel into something he could express in his own less-than-elegant fashion, partly to be sure the flood of words coming from the other party was at an end.

Painfully conscious of his common turn of speech, the half-dressed Kemite swallowed what remained of the cookie before beginning. “Guilds can be a boon, indeed – especially when one is trying to broker a deal with a venue or a benefactor. On the other hand, guilds can quickly become top-heavy with administrative types that have no real ability … and even less patience with those they are elected to support. Still – having a guild or faction dedicated to traveling performers such as I assume you are …” he nodded quickly in the Cether’s direction “… and such as who you think I may become is by no means a trivial pursuit.” He paused a moment to gather his thoughts; did he REALLY want to be part of this absurd venture? He could simply stay here in ZinnSunn, learning more about his craft and eventually exploring the Empire by himself.

He noted the effervescent attitude of Lyssoryl and his mind was made up – even before he’d fully realized what he was about to say. “Count me in, please. Paticularly if it’s the ‘ground floor’ as you so aptly put it. What do you need me to do?”

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl politely declined to notice Amarillo's blush. "You make good points about the potential cumbersomeness of guilds, and since you ask what I want of you I will say that first and foremost it is to make good points such as this. If we are careful perhaps we can design the guild to run along lines we approve of even after it inevitably leaves our control, but we'll have to think of the pitfalls and prepare for them."

She paused to push back a wayward batch of curls that had fallen into her face.

"The thing I would like most from a guild is if it provided a series of venues across the empire, so that I might travel from town to town and have a reasonable chance at being able to perform for the sort of money that keeps me from starving to death. As I see it, our guild can own these venues and give work preferentially or exclusively to members."

"It is on this end of things where I wish to start. I plan to get financial backing from someone or other, and open a theater here in Zinn'Sunn. Using the profits of this theater, always assuming there are some, we can open other theaters here and there across the empire. Once we have a few, we can simply declare ourselves a guild and people will join to have access to our theaters."

"This is another point with which you could help me tremendously. I'll need someone to run the theater, and incidently draw what I hope will be an attractive salary. You would function as the owner, although technically the owner would be the guild, with the bulk of the money going to expansion. I would draw a modest salary that would allow me to travel and see about setting up the next theater. Here, let me show you my business plan."

She brought several folded papers from her apron pocket and flattened them out. They had been heavily doodled on, with words interweaving with the pictures.

"Zinn'Sunn has 50,000 residents. A theater would have two competitors, sort of. By this I mean the amphitheater and the Great Pagoda, which offer entertainment but not in an organized fashion." She pointed to a figure from which flowers were sprouting. "I figure that roughly 90% of the residents of Zinn'Sunn will be customers, if we can generate a program that has something to offer people of different ages. Everyone likes a bit of entertainment. Over here under the bunny with the top hat, I figure that for 20,000 crowns we should be able to design a theater that will seat 300 or even 400 people. If we can average 200 customers a day at an average of 10 crowns, we generate 100,000 crowns a month. In order to achieve that, we need to get my 90% figure to see a show every 4.5 months, which does not seem entirely unreasonable."

"My rough guess is that we would pay 70,000 to performers, and something like 2500 for ushers, janitors, and ticket sellers. I don't know what maintanence and taxes would come to, so I've written in 5,000 for that. That leaves 22,500 a month. Let's say we pay you 2,000 and me 500, and that leaves 20,000 per month for new theaters."

She suddenly realized that she was not letting Amarillo get an word in, which was a bad habit she continually struggled with. "Perhaps I should get your opinion before I deafen you with my chatter."

[Amarillo]

In what he was coming to recognize as the Cether’s preferred method of operating, the young woman came straight to the point and coherently set forth her own philosophy on guilds and guild behaviors. As he listened, the reddish hue that had been in evidence on his countenance began to fade … eventually retreating entirely, so that his natural amber tone was exposed. And it was natural … or it would seem so, since it extended over the total area exposed by his shirtless state.

He found himself thinking aloud as she simply strung words together at what – to him – was a blistering pace. “Yes, we should try to foresee pitfalls and plan for them. We’re going to miss some, surely, but …” he lapsed into silence as he tried to follow her next idea. “Hmm. I can see where having a location that could act as guildhall in some – if not all – the Empire cities would work well. A place for performances … a spot to meet and plan guild activities … a potential shelter for travelers on guild business in a pinch … you’ve got some excellent points there, Mistress Lyssoryl.”

He listened further, biting back the occasional comment until she’d arrived at the end of her discussion on figures. He hadn’t been all that good at the art of numbers when younger – perhaps that was something in his makeup, or simply that those responsible for his teaching hadn’t had either the knowledge or the skills to impart what knowledge they DID have. However, he could still tell when he was about to run out of coins and whether he was being grossly overcharged by a merchant for either goods or services. He couldn’t immediately put his finger on it, but something about her financial planning seemed somehow … missing. Not wrong, necessarily. Just … missing.

By the time she’d come to the part about salary expectations for herself, a few more things had crystallized. He politely waited until she paused for her next breath before expressing himself.

“I think you’re right about the city’s population. I’ve heard from various areas that it’s between forty- and sixty-five thousand … so assuming fifty is reasonable. At ten crowns a show, we can probably fill a few hundred seats … but not EVERY brightening. If you look here by the flowery figure – you’re assuming 200 seats a brightening … by 50 brightenings per month … is 20 percent of the city’s population each month.”

“And you’ve listed the competition as the Amphitheater and Pagoda Ballroom. If that were true, we’d probably be okay. But there’s FAR more competition for the entertainment crown! There’s the Wolfmoon, the Song and Sage, the Black Trillium, the Rolling Thunder, and the Academy of Music and Culture. And that’s just inside the gates … once we add in the outdoor locales such as Waterfall Park, Laoshan Falls, and Laroo River Park … well, we’re looking at serious competition.”

“I think it might be better to estimate conservatively … we’d have people in the stands every THIRD brightening. What that really means is that we’re putting on shows four brightenings a cycle – Srennia, Orodisia, Kuras, and Lunaria. The rest of the time is spent practicing, or used for an occasional extended run of a specific program.”

He wiggled his fingers as he tried to work out the figures. “I don’t know how big a structure you’re envisioning, Mistress Lyssoryl. But I think we CAN dream big, at least in the case of ZinnSunn. If you’d wait just a moment …”

He got up and hurried through the opening that led to the back ‘bedroom’ of the building. Picking his way quickly through the contents of his sack, he managed to find a reasonable quill and a small bottle of nearly-dried-out ink. Gathering the items, he came over to Lyssoryl’s side and seated himself more hurriedly than was his usual graceful fashion. The ideas were starting to come fast now and he didn’t want to lose any of them.

“May I? …” he asked as he produced the quill and ink and pointed to the Cether’s already crowded parchment.

[Lyssoryl]

"Hmm...I may have underestimated our competition, but I believe you are overestimating. The parks you mention do not contain stages, to my knowledge, and the Black Trillium seems more the place that would have a musician gently struming to provide atmosphere, rather than a show a person would go to watch, and you are not making allowances for the venues that we will crush under our iron heel."

"As to attracting one person in five once every fifty brightenings, is that really too optimistic? I should think that most people wish to be entertained at least that often, although as you say there are a few other options. Still, I should love to see your figures. It makes sense to plan for the worst and hope for the best."

She followed him to his back room, and handed him her parchment. "The other side is blank, should you find yourself inspired to write at length."

[Amarillo]

Amarillo turned the parchment over to give himself a bit of room. With efficient strokes, he quickly depicted an eight-sided structure, perhaps three stories tall. All sides were equal – he listed a diameter and pointed to it. “We’d need to be about 90 ft outside diameter. That’d give us plenty of room to have balconies about 15 feet deep all the way around. If we put in a stage that’s 30 feet wide along this wall …” He quickly added what he meant to the sketch. “… We’d have a usable arc of about a half circle, if we kept the front of the stage near the center of the main floor. That means each balcony has a floor space of roughly 1750 sq ft. Double that, since we’ve got two balconies. Then divide the total by 3.5 sq ft per patron, and we’ve got … roughly room for 1000 patrons.”

He let the Cether examine the page while he examined her face for signs of consternation or blankness. “Stick with me … we’re almost there. That was the tough part.”

“We’re going to be pessimistic here ... we’re only get 3 out of every 4 seats filled for any given show. That means 750 attending each show.”

“We’re running 4 shows a cycle, remember? And we charge 8 gc a seat … which gives us a gross income of 24000 per cycle.”

“Out of that we have to pay the performers. Say 50 of them, some good, some just extras … an average wage of 60 per show. That would be an expense of 12000.”

“We’d need costumers, makeup, and so forth. Another 35, but at a slightly lower average wage of 40 per cycle. That would be an expense of … umm … 5600.”

“We’d need ushers and ticket sellers, and maybe a guard at the door. Nothing fancy, maybe a total of 12 people averaging 30 per cycle. That’s another expense … 1440.”

“Then we’d need monies set aside for maintenance and set construction .. allocate perhaps 2500 per cycle for that.”

“That would make our net income, before tax, at … 2460. So, in a month, we’d make 12300.”

“Assume we’ll be paying a 10 percent tax right off the top … that leaves us with just over 11000 crowns.” He wrote down the actual figure, which was 11070.

“Out of that, we pay ourselves each two hundred crowns a cycle, and we’re left with 9000 which we can use toward our next facility … or help pay down the loan we’re using to obtain this property in the first place.”

“If we do it right, we wait about four months before bundling our earnings into another facility elsewhere. That would give us perhaps as much as 36000 crowns to use … which means we might not need a start-up loan at our next spot. And once it’s off the ground in a similar fashion, we’ll be making double the income for the guild. And so on, as long as we keep obtaining new facilities around the Empire.”

He had tallied the figures in a couple of neat columns down the side of the parchment, separating income from expenses. The figure at the bottom almost glowed … a net profit of 9000 crowns per month. And the best part of it was that the figure stood for a SINGLE location, here in ZinnSunn.

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl studied his plans carefully. "Hmm...well, that certainly does look nice, but I'm not sure if we can do it for 20,000 gold. The square footage you envision would be 1750 per balcony plus a floor footprint of about 6,400, for a total of about 10,000 square feet. My talk with the aedile convinces me that this will be at least 20,000 crowns right there. And then we'll have to pay to have seats installed. Of course, the 20,000 figure is an artificial limit, I can ask for whatever I want, it just seems less likely that I will get a loan the more I ask for."

"Also, your figure of 3.5 square feet per patron seems low to me. This is will allot each seat a square 20 inches on a side, including leg room. I don't know perhaps that is enough, but I'd like people to be comfortable."

Lyssoryl took the parchment back and worked a few more figures. "One thing that is making me a bit nervous is this estimate of 750 people a show. 50 people times 4 shows a cycle times 8 crowns a ticket times 5 cycles a month would be 8,000 crowns. If our figure is off by much over 50, we will fail to break even. Of course, if we ever have a month of selling out we shall do very well indeed."

She sat back and ran her fingers through her hair.

"A couple other points. Firstly, with all this talk of set designers and costumers, you seem to be talking about a theater for grand plays performed by a local group. I am not entirely against this, but my personal interest is in venues for traveling musicians and other performers, myself for example. We could squish the ideas together, afterall plays often include music which must be peformed by someone, but I would like some of our venues to be small intimate settings where a performer or small troupe could simply appear on stage and play for an audience."

"My second point is that if we are going to do plays, especially on a scale of 50 perfomers, it would make more sense to practice the play and then have a run of at least a cycle, with performances every day, and to extend the run as long as the draw is good. There will be no real need to have days off between performances. And perhaps between plays we can run a musical series."