The settlement known as Phantasia was little more than a few clusters of huts and hovels around a large estate manor house that Rurk referred to as the governor's palace. The natives of the area were of a darker color, similar to that of Herve the halfling, and were for the most part short, with muscular builds and intense black eyes.
As Rurk would pass, the natives would bow, saying, 'Mis Ta Rurk,' their tone highly respectful.
'That is what they call me,' Rurk explained. 'They once overheard Herve calling me mister, and they assumed that was my title. I've seen no reason to dissuade them.'
Along the way to the mansion they also passed an arena-like structure composed of a playing field between two high parallel walls. They also passed several boiling works where fruit was distilled into a sort of wine juice, and where sap from nearby rubber trees was melted and molded into strips for weaving and tying. Several native women were in the process of weaving the strands into a hammock. The mansion itself had a Tethyrian flavor to its architecture: a large veranda-like porch where several woven thrones had been placed, each framed by two servants, one holding a tray with a pitcher and a cup, the other holding a huge plumed fan.
'Here we are,' Rurk announced. 'Take a seat and be comfortable.'
Rurk escorted Shurleen to the throne on the farthest right, and then seated himself immediately to her left. The others followed suit, Volo next to him, Passepout next, and Curtis on the end.
Curtis, however, did not remain seated long, and preferred to sip from his drink while walking back and forth on the porch, causing the servant holding the fan a great deal of difficulty. The servant continued to follow at a respectful distance but had to be close enough to still cool the guest of his master, Rurk.
Curtis quickly became frustrated at running into the plume fan every time he turned around, and finally said to the servant, 'Will you just leave me alone?'
A look of mortal terror passed on the servant's face.
Rurk clapped his hands, and Herve appeared at his side. The two exchanged whispers, at which point Herve said something to the servant, who immediately responded with a relieved look and left the porch.
'There is no reason to be uncomfortable or nervous, Curtis,' Rurk explained. 'The servants are solely here for our comfort. And I do hope my guests are comfortable.'
'Why, sure,' Shurleen replied, having a peeled grape popped into her mouth.
'And we greatly appreciate your hospitality,' Volo offered. 'So how many are you?'
'Excuse me,' Rurk replied, not quite sure about the question.
'Others from Faerun in this settlement,' Volo clarified, 'in the province for which you are governor.'
'Oh, I see,' Rurk replied carefully. 'I came down from the North with twenty of my best men. Ten are still here in similar accommodations along the ridge. The others fell victim to the hazards of this paradise known as Maztica. Disease, accidents, you know the risks.'
'That flag over there,' Volo pointed out. 'I don't recognize it.'
'It was our divisional flag.'
'I see,' said Volo, seemingly dropping the conversation.
Rurk stood up.
'My newfound friends from Faerun, accommodations have been made for you in my humble abode.
It is now siesta time, and I am sure that you will all want to rest. Herve will escort you gentlemen to your room, while I will personally escort the lovely Shurleen to her private accommodations.'
'Charmed, I'm sure,' Shurleen responded, once again taking Rurk's arm.
'Mind if I tag along?' Curtis asked, a feeling of uneasiness in his voice.
'Yes, I do,' Shurleen replied brusquely. 'It's about time I was treated to some privacy.'
Rurk and Shurleen continued down one veranda passageway, while the three male travelers followed the halfling down the other.
'I think there's something rotten in this province in Maztica,' Curtis whispered churlishly, 'and I don't like it.'
Passepout, his heart gradually recovering from being broken, tried to lend a sympathetic ear to the young beachcomber. 'I don't like the way that Rurk has his arms all over Shurleen, any better than you do, but you have to admit he's a hospitable host.'
'For now,' Volo interjected, 'for now.'
The room that they were escorted to was a more than adequate common room with three beds for reclining, three more woven thrones, and a bell cord to summon servants.
'If you require anything, please feel free to ring the bell. These are your room servants,' Herve instructed, indicating three heavyset women standing in the hall. 'They don't speak Common, but I am sure that you can make your desires known to them.'
One of the servants Volo recognized as one of the hammock weavers from the rubber plant. She was as wide as the chubby thespian, though not as tall, and possessed a face that might have been attractive for a warthog. She gave Passepout a knowing wink and a smile as she closed the door behind Herve.
'I think she likes you,' Curtis said to Passepout.
'Not if I can help it,' replied the chubby thespian, a shiver of revulsion passing through his entire body.
'Isn't it strange that with such a large mansion available, Rurk would seemingly situate us at the complete opposite end of the building from Shurleen?' Volo pointed out.
'I noticed that,' Curtis agreed. 'That is why I offered to tag along, to at least see where he was putting her.'
'I'm sure that was the only reason,' Passepout jibed.
Curtis did not respond, and Passepout thought better of pushing the issue. He changed the subject. 'And what was all that business about the flag, Volo?'
'Indeed,' Volo replied. 'I'm afraid that we are in the hands of a renegade Tethyrian mercenary warlord who has deserted his unit to the north and set up his own fantasy kingdom in this remote settlement.'
'That's why there is only the division's flag, his flag,' Curtis agreed.
'But what does that mean to us?' Passepout asked.
'It means,' Volo replied, 'that for the time being he can do anything he wants with us.'
A little over an hour later, Herve returned to the quarters of the three travelers to take them down to dinner in the room behind the main veranda where they had been sitting earlier that day. Rurk was already seated at the head of the table when they arrived, and indicated that they should join him, leaving the seat by him free for Shurleen, who had yet to arrive for the meal.
The lovely Miss Bleth informs me that you will probably be wishing to resume your travels eastward as soon as possible,' Rurk said, then resumed sipping a cup of distilled fruit wine.
'Yes,' Volo replied, not wishing to give too much away, 'we have pressing business awaiting us in Suzail.'
Just then, Shurleen entered the hall, or rather more correctly floated into the hall, her pampered, beauteous body held aloft a foot off the ground by the gown of feathers she was wearing.
Passepout and Curtis's jaws dropped.
'Isn't she angelic?' Rurk commented.
None contested his observation, as Shurleen floated to her place.
'Plume magic?' Volo asked.
'But of course,' Rurk replied. 'The natives here are particularly adept at it. I've even seen them constructing veritable rafts of enchanted plumes to lift their dwellings off the ground during times of flood. The floating power in these feathers seems inexhaustible.'
'Quite,' Volo agreed. 'I bet your patrons back in Faerun are making quite a pretty coin in profits on your exports.'
'Their interests are no longer any concern of mine,' Rurk replied, a touch of deadly seriousness apparent in his tone. 'No doubt you realize I no longer claim allegiance to my patrons, as you call them. Your observation about the divisional flag, or shall I say that the lack of any other, made that clear to me, so let's drop the facade.'
'Agreed,' Volo replied. 'All we want is to continue our way eastward. We have no desire to expose your private kingdom to the scrutiny of other concerns here or in Faerun. So with your blessing we'd like to resume our journey tomorrow, giving you our word of honor that as far as anyone is concerned, we've never met a Mis Ta
