Majai Presents Pagan Hills: Beige

CHAPTER 3: Yardenima: Part 5

The group, led by Corvus, traverses the heart of Central Garden, the horses' hooves clacking rhythmically on the stone tiles. As they move, the merchant shops bustle with activity on either side of the path, displaying an array of garments that fuse the modern with the traditional, reflecting the diverse cultures of the city. Some of the denizens are draped in white cloaks similar to those of Corvus and Ralph, signifying some unspoken bond or rank. Some were draped in cloaks of a rich, dark red, a shade that echoed the intensity of blood.

While most cloaks rest upon shoulders, Mika observes that Ralph's hood remains uniquely drawn over his head, casting a shadow over his eyes. The air is thick with the scent of spices from distant lands; the aroma of sizzling meats and fresh vegetables cooking in open woks over roaring fires tempts their senses. Steam rises in fragrant plumes, mingling with the chatter and laughter of the crowd—a symphony of life and appetite.

Guided by the alluring aromas, Corvus halted at a central point amidst the tantalizing scents and gracefully dismounted. The rest of the group emulated his actions, with Mr. Dubois and Louie taking extra care as they alighted, mindful of their earlier unease. With everyone on foot, Corvus gave a sharp whistle, summoning the horses to his side in an orderly queue. He moved behind them swiftly, and as he passed each horse, a tug at its tail transformed the creature into a puff of mist, leaving behind only a strand of white-blonde hair in Corvus's grip. The onlookers watched in astonishment as Corvus repeated the process down the line, each horse vanishing into vapor. Once finished, he coiled the collected hair into a thick loop and stowed it neatly in his jacket pocket. "Alright everyone." Corvus acting like the sorcery he just did was normal. "Try to stay within the limits of this area." Corvus waves his hands around him to generalize the boundary he wanted everyone to stay in. "Besides that. You're free to get some food. After we eat, we'll begin breaking you into smaller groups to get you to your desired destination within Yardenima. But first. We eat!" Corvus clapped his hands and unison everyone scattered to where their noses tempted them.

The familiar fragrance of toasted bread and melted cheese drew Louie to a stall where a vendor was assembling Croque Monsieurs, the classic French sandwich with ham nestled between layers of creamy béchamel sauce and Gruyère cheese, all griddled to a golden crisp. The scent was intoxicating, wrapping Louie in a wave of nostalgia that made his mouth water. His eyes then caught sight of Boeuf Bourguignon being prepared: a rich beef stew marinated in red wine and infused with the earthy aromas of garlic, onions, and a bouquet garni. The robust, savory smell was enough to make his heart skip. Overcome with emotion and his usual haughtiness slipping, Louie's voice cracked as he asked the merchant for a serving.

Danilo was skeptical of Corvus's claim that Yardenima could cater to every culinary desire. Bracing for a letdown, he and his wife Maria scoured the area for something nutritious to eat. Abruptly, a scent wrapped itself around Danilo's senses, a scent he recognized. Maria watched, astonished, as Danilo charged towards the origin of the smell, his sudden dash causing a few of the burgundy-cloaked bystanders to stare in surprise. Maria, concerned Danilo might overexert himself, hurried after him. When she reached him, he was kneeling, breathless, in front of a stall where Batangas Lomi was being made—thick egg noodles in a hearty broth, garnished with liver, cabbage, and a generous sprinkling of fried garlic, its rich and savory aroma a reminder of his mother's cooking. Understanding the surge of emotion her husband felt, Maria wrapped an arm around him and placed an order for them to share.

Oliver eagerly gathered a selection of his favored treats from the market stalls, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his beloved comfort foods. His plate was a vibrant tapestry of flavors, prominently featuring chili sausage rolls that emitted a tantalizing aroma, their crispy, golden-brown pastry crust crackling invitingly at the slightest touch. The spicy scent of chili mingled with the rich, savory fragrance of the sausage, promising a delightful kick with each bite.

Alongside the rolls lay Lamingtons, an Australian delicacy that instantly reminded Oliver of home. These sponge cakes, cloaked in a layer of chocolate icing and rolled in desiccated coconut, presented a contrast of textures from the fluffy interior to the slightly crunchy exterior. Their appearance was modest, perhaps unassuming to the uninitiated, with their humble brown and white colors not immediately revealing the burst of sweet and slightly tangy flavors within. The unique combination of flavors and textures, while cherished by many, might perplex those unaccustomed to the fusion of sweet chocolate and the texture of coconut, making it a taste acquired with fondness over time. Lamingtons held a special place in Oliver's heart, symbolizing the warmth and nostalgia of Australia, his homeland, and the celebrations and gatherings where these treats were a staple. Completing his selection was buttered chicken, its rich, creamy sauce carrying hints of spices that promised a comforting warmth. The aroma was a blend of buttery goodness and aromatic spices, a reminder of the diverse culinary landscape back home that Oliver cherished. This medley of dishes on his plate was more than just food; it was a mosaic of memories, each bite a step back through the places and moments that shaped him.

Mika wandered among the market stalls with a keen eye, immersing herself in the vibrant tapestry of sights and smells unique to each cultural showcase. The air buzzed with excitement, as visitors from near and far mingled, sharing stories and laughter over food that bridged worlds. In the flurry of activity, Ralph darted between stalls, his enthusiasm undimmed by the distance, his arms laden with an impressive assortment of dishes representing a myriad of cultures. His collected tower of flavors stood as a testament to the diverse culinary journey available at their fingertips.

Nearby, the Dubois couple stood in front of a stall that exuded Haitian vibrancy, its decorations and aromas proudly showcasing their rich heritage. The couple engaged in a lively debate over their culinary choices. Mr. Dubois, somewhat set in his ways, opted for the comfort of familiarity with a Shrimp Po' Boy sandwich. This classic dish featured succulent shrimp, fried to golden perfection and nestled within a soft, flaky French baguette. The sandwich was dressed with a tangy remoulade sauce, lettuce, and tomato, creating a symphony of flavors and textures. The fried shrimp emitted a mouthwatering aroma, a hint of the sea mingled with the spicy, zesty scent of the sauce, promising a satisfying crunch with every bite.

Mrs. Dubois, yearning to explore the depth of their cultural cuisine, sighed at her husband's choice. Unperturbed, she turned to the vendor, her choice reflecting a deeper dive into their roots. "I'll have the Shrimp Mofongo, please," she declared with a smile. Shrimp Mofongo, a staple of Haitian cuisine with roots stretching back to its African and Taino heritage, consisted of fried plantains mashed together with garlic, spices, and olive oil, topped generously with creole sauce and succulent, seasoned shrimp. The dish offered a rich, garlicky aroma that invited diners to explore its complex layers of flavor, the plantains providing a hearty base for the savory, spice-kissed shrimp. It was a dish that encapsulated the warmth and soul of Haitian culture, a culinary hug that Mrs. Dubois was all too eager to embrace.

Drawn by an array of enticing aromas, Mika found herself navigating through the stalls with an excited yet cautious demeanor. Despite the temptation to delve into the culinary offerings, she was mindful not to appear too eager, picturing herself in a less-than-graceful moment, adorned with food stains. She contemplated opting for a salad, a safe choice, until a particular scent captivated her senses, guiding her towards a stall manned by a cheerful elderly Italian woman.

The stall's owner exuded warmth and happiness, her face a map of life's journeys marked by laugh lines and deep wrinkles, especially around her eyes, which sparkled with joy. Her agile hands moved with remarkable speed, serving customers with a grace and efficiency that belied her years. As she noticed Mika, her smile widened, making her wrinkles more pronounced in a welcoming gesture. "Hello," Mika greeted, somewhat shyly.

"Welcome," the woman responded with a voice as comforting as a familiar melody. "I'm Giovanna. And what might your name be?" she inquired, sensing Mika's hesitance.

"I'm Mika. I... I'm kind of new around here," Mika admitted. Giovanna chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with a knowing light.

"My dear, no one is truly new to Yardenima. Perhaps you've simply forgotten the paths you've wandered here before. But fret not," she assured, gently patting Mika's shoulder, "you'll remember in due time. That's what I always say." Her laughter was infectious, prompting a genuine laugh from Mika as well. "Did these catch your eye?" Giovanna asked, gesturing towards a sizzling pan of stuffed peppers.