In search of Trapalanda (Alpha Zero & MMRS)

There were a dozen places in the world that Arthur Stamford would have rather have been that Cumaná.

New Orleans. Now there was a place to be. Dangerous, free wheeling, full of life. How many fortunes had been won and lost in that Free City where the Mississippi River met the Gulf of Mexico? How many expeditions had been launched from that city into the wild interiors of North America, bringing back fame and fortune, heartache and loss, or never returning at all?

Or there was Boston, the cultural city of the growing English presence in North America, whose theaters rivaled those of London and whose salons were the equals of those in Paris.

Ah, when one say the industriousness of the English colony, one could almost believe that the English could do what no one had done in three hundred and fifty years, since the expeditions of Columbus, and that is tame the great wild interior of North America.

But instead, Arthur Stamford found himself in Cumaná.

Oh, not that Cumaná wasn't a beautiful city. And between the presence of the Ejército de Tierra, the Legión Española, the milicia colonial and the policía colonial it was probably the safest city in the Americas, both from threats inside and out. But the boot of the Spanish monarchy was firmly planted in the city, and anyone wishing to do business in the city, or wanting to launch an expedition for any reason into the exterior of South America, had to deal with the government.

Oh, men like Arthur Stamford could still make money in Cumaná. But, at least to Stamford, the near certainty of knowing what open hands had to be satisfied took all the fun out of it.

Still, sometimes he had to do business in Cumaná. So Stamford kept a presence established in the city. And today, as he sat out on a patio of one of the finer restaurants in Cumaná, looking out over the Caribbean Sea, his personal presence was required to start yet another expedition in search of Trapalanda, the legendary City of the Caesars.

Not that Stamford expected this expedition to succeed. None in the past ever had. But that wasn't his business, after all. His business was to get things started. And his business was always good.

Jack Flynt squinted at his reflection in the mirror, the yellow and purple brusing had swollen the eye shut and a hash in his lip oozed blood. The tan colored slacks he wore where stained with dirt and who knew what else, his sandy hair dirty and unkempt. Over all he looked like he had slept in a gutter, which wasn't too far from the truth from what he could remember about the night before, something about a card game going really well for him, several rounds of expensive rum, a half dozen Spanish soliders.

The soliders probably ended up in worse in shape when everything was over and done with. That had to be the case given the amount of pain Flynt was feeling the other guys HAD to be worse of.

Right?

He cranked the rusted old faucet infront of him and the tap sputtered to life, belching out stream of brown wate okr that Flynt decided he was better off not splashing on his swollen sore face. He emerged from the dingey restaurant who's bathroom he had been making use of into the bright Venizulian morning, squinting against the sun with his good eye.

He slunk his hands into the back pockets of his slacks, hiking up the back of his waistcoat as he did and began to saunter down the street at a leasurly pace, limping ever so slightly. Yeah, it has been a bad night.

"Senor Flynt! Senor Flynt!" One of the young boys who hung out in front of the hotel that Jack was staying at came running toward him, a piece of paper in his hand. "A message for you, Senor Flynt!" The boy pressed the folded piece of paper in Jack's hand, waiting for a tip for his services.

Inside the folded paper was a note:

Mr. Flynt,

I am currently taking my breakfast on the terrace of El Alazán. Though I doubt you are properly dressed, the Maître d' will make allowances and show you to my table. I believe you will find the ensuing conversation both enlightening and enriching.

Arthur Stramford

Flynt read over the note once. Than twice, than a third time just to make sure he wasn't imagining things in his current state. Though he wondered if he was actually capable of complex acts of imagination given how bad his head was pounding at that exact moment.

A conversation both enlighting and enriching.

The way he saw it that could go one of two ways, one would lead to a free meal and an offer of gainful employment, the other would lead to just free meal. Either way, he saw a free meal in his future which was something he could never say no to. Flynt dug a few loose coins from his pocket and dropped them in the kids hand, "Take this back to your mama, I'm sure she'll need them for something." He said, his Spanish a little rough on his current state before strolling in the general direction of El Alazan.

The Maitre d' looked disapprovingly at him in his filthy clothes and black eye, but when Flynt mentioned the name Stramford the man in his pristine tuxedo lead him out to terrace and Stramford's table. Before the snooty man was able to depart Flynt caught him by the sleeve, "Could I get a cup of coffee, two stages. Three eggs scrambled and some toast? Thanks."

The Maitre'd wrinkled his nose, possibly because he was disgusted at being treated like a common waiter, possibly because Flynt smelled like death it was hard to tell. After making the man as uncomfortable as possible Flynt turned his attention towards the older man sitting across from him ,"Mr.Stramford I presume?"

"Ah, Mr. Flynt," Stramford replied, signaling for a waiter to refill his coffee and bring Jack a cup of coffee as well. "I see your reputation does you justice. Have you had breakfast yet? If not, I highly suggest the reina pepeadas, which they bring with mandacos , black beans and whatever fresh fruit they have on hand. The Norteamericana breakfast on the menu is more than palatable, I suppose, if you feel the need for scrambled eggs, johnny cakes and cured back bacon, but I strongly urge you to never, never try their version of a full English breakfast."

Stramford visibly shuttered before he added, "And after you feel a little more human with some food on your stomach, we can discuss a unique opportunity for you to assist the advancement of scientific knowledge."

Flynt took a slow sip from his coffee, wincing in pain as hot liquid splash against a cut on his gums and the taste of blood mingled with hot coffee as he drank, slowly beginning to feel more human, and more willing to listen to any conversations involving advancement of scientific knowledge.

Scientific knowledge wasn't really of any serious interest to a man like Jack Flynt, but people who did have an invested interest in science tended to be willing to pay good money, and money was always of interest to Flynt, "Uh huh" he said over the top of his mug, not really looking at Stramford and instead focusing on the shapely backside of one of the girls cleaning the table behind them, "So what's this great advancement?"

"Attention here, Flynt," Stramford said, snapping his fingers in front of Jack's face.

The waiter came by and took Jack's order, while Stramford sipped his coffee, quietly observing the other man.

"You know what your problem is, Flynt?" Stramford said, sitting his cup down. "You don't plan for the future. You have a decent enough reputation, as an expedition guide, but you're also known as a man who uses his earnings to...well, to reach the condition you are currently in."

"However," Stramford continued, "I have the opportunity for you to earn enough coin that you might think of something besides your next drink, when all is said is done."

The deliverance of Jack's breakfast interrupted Stramford's soliloquy, at least for the moment.

His attention was pulled back towards older man,"Guide, tracker, smuggler, treasure hunter." He corrected Stamford around a mouthful of eggs, "but the later two are much more occasional thing. And as for this..." He gestured towards his swollen eye with his fork, "this is just what happens when some people can't accept you have better luck at them with cards, its got nothing to do with spending."

He slopped up more egg with a peice of toast and shoved it into his mouth, "So wile I appreciate the grandfatherly advice, how's about we get to the point and you tell me what the job is?"

"I believe the young man will have 'seconds'," Stramford announced to a passing waiter. The waiter nodded as Stramford returned his attention to Jack. "I feel certain that you are familiar with the legend of Trapalanda, the lost City of the Caesars."

Flynt stopped mid mouthful and gropped for his coffee mug, swallowing and mouthful to wash back to mess of eggs and bread in his mouth. He glanced around quickly and leaned forward, taking a very real interest in what Stramford had to say. He knew of Trapalanda, it was the whole reason he had ended up in Venezuela to begin with but the expedition had pulled out at the last moment, turning tale back to England and leaving him behind, "Ciudad de los Césares, The Wondering City. I know, a little" he replied as he pushed his plate aside, "are you trying to tell me you're sending an expedition into Patagonia?" He barely spoke above a whisper, fearing of some unknown third party hearing him.

"What could possibly make you think you've got a lead on Trapalanda?"

"Me, a lead on the Wondering City? Don't be absurd, Mr. Flynt," Stromford said with a laugh. "I don't go wondering around in jungles, poking in caves or that sort of thing. I connect people, get supplies, grease palms, all the necessities for those with the derring-do. And between you, me and the proverbial lamp post, I think this legend of the Wondering City is pure poppycock. Some word of mouth picked up centuries ago from an illiterate savage by a half blind sod who passed it on to his doxie and then it grew by leaps and bounds. I dare say that, in a hundred and fifty years, when we've poked into every corner of the old globe, someone will say the Wondering City has made its way to the Moon."

"Yes, pure hogwash, nonsense only fit for penny dreadfuls and toffs who have more money and time than sense," Stromford concluded with a huff. "However, as you yourself are aware, from time to time, someone in Europe decides to step out of their drawing room and go looking for it. And that's where I come in. Connecting the silly buggers with chaps like you, who know the different types of bark and whatnot."

"In this case, I have one Lady Astoria Paget, eldest daughter of Lord something or other, first woman at some college or another, well steeped in legends of the Americas, who wants to check out a pet theory of hers. Seems the Pemon...you know, those savages around Angel Falls...have some legend about a people connected with the Wondering City. Something about how they lived underground and used the power of the falls. So Lady Paget wants to mount an expedition to Angel Falls to see what she can learn."

Flynt pursed his lips and thought for several moments. This wouldn't be the first time he had headed off into the wilds acting as a glorified nobel's daughter and truth be told it probably wouldn't be the last. Regardless of what the end result of the expedition he would no doubt be well paid.

"Well Mr.Stramford. If Lady Paget is willing to pay for my services I'd gladly take her inland to falls." He said slowly, "and hopefully wile we're there we can find something that will put an end to your skepticism of the existence of The Wondering City."

'Very good," Stramford replied with a broad smile. "She's currently staying at Hostal Ingles," he added, giving the name of the luxurious hotel that was a favorite among the English wealthy who traveled to Cumana. "I'll send word that she should expect you in the lobby at four. She'll probably expect you to stay for tea, so I suggest if you have any knowledge of etiquette, you brush up on it between then and now."

"Oh, and she does have a few men of her own already. She's even been so enterprising as to hire a young Pemon girl as a guide, but I'll let you sort that out with her ladyship. Anyway, best of luck and all that. Feel free to have another cup of coffee if you want. The bill is taken care of."

And with that, Stramford took his leave.

Flynt watched the old man department. Rather thankful to see him go. As much as he liked people bringing him work a man like Stramford who refused to believe beyond what he knew bothered Flynt for reasons he couldn't fully place. The world was a strange place and dispute Stramford's pesimism there where still many things that sceicne had yet to explain and many places humanity had yet to explore so who's to say there weren't lost cities and entire civilizations that people have yet to discover?

Stories and legends, as far as he was concerned, had to start somewhere.

He glanced up at the clock on wall, a little before eleven which left him plenty of time to finish his second breakfast and get himself cleaned up. The waiter appeared with another plate of eggs and toast and tucked in.

By four he was showered, shaved and wearing a cleaner set of clothes than he had woken up in. The swelling around his eye had gone down enough so that he could see properly, atleast until he got punched in the face again.

He'd drawn a few strange looks from the front desk staff at Hostal Ingles when he arrived asking for Lady Paget but after some mumbeling and running around of staff he was lead to the day room off the lobby and told to wait in one of plus leather arms chairs for her ladyship to arrive.

Three young woman entered the room. The first, a young woman wearing a pith helmet, khaki long sleeved blouse and an ankle length khaki skirt, her hair laying loose about her shoulders, was clearly Lady Paget. She was accompanied by a lovely if unassuming young woman wearing baggy clothing and carrying a number of devices, including binoculars, a sketch pad and other accouterments. The third woman was a young, local woman wearing a colorfully embroidered blouse and a long, faded red skirt.

The first woman gave Jack a broad smile as she extended her hand. "Mr. Fritz? Lady Astoria Paget, delighted to meet you. I've heard many good things about you. This is my traveling companion, Miss Lucille..." the woman with the various objects hanging from her neck and shoulders gave a shy smile and a quick curtsy "...and this is Miss Tuenkaron, one of the Pemon people. She's promised to arrange safe passage up the Churun River with her people."

Tuenkaron's face remained impassive through the introduction.

"So please, have a seat," Lady Paget said, taking a seat herself. "We'll have a nice spot of tea while we discuss the particulars of my proposed expedition."

Flynt took the offered hand and shook it firmly, "It's Flynt, Lady Paget, Jack Flynt. It's a pleasure to meet you and your companions." He said nodding briefly towards the other two. He was rather surprised that there wasn't an unattractive one amid the three and he even in the nicest clothes he owned, Flynt suddenly felt very under dressed.

He settelments himself back onto the armchair he had previously been occupying and fixed his new employer with an easy, reassuring smile, "In my experiences along the river Lady Padget, the Pemon are the least threatening thing out there, but having assurance that we won't have to worry about them will help me sleep easily. Have you ever run an expedition like this before?"

Tuenkaron said something quiet, musical and intelligible to Lady Paget, but her eyes never left Jack's face, and remained as hard as flint.

"Yes, well," Lady Paget said, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. "Tuenkaron doesn't share your assessment of the Pemon people. She has been to the base of the Falls, though, which is where I am most interested in going."

One of the hotel staff wheeled a tea cart in, serving tea to all and offering all present tea biscuits and crescent sandwiches.

"Father insisted that I bring over four Fusiliers from his old regiment, Mr. Flynt," Lady Paget began. "All trusty lads who showed their mettle in Kabul and other exotic places. I realize, though, that you'll have your own ways, so I do have an account to draw at the local currency exchange, to pay for those supplies and hires you and I determine are needed."

Flynt picked at one of the biscuits, ripping off small chunks to chew on wile ignoring his cup of tea. He didn't like the idea of marching into Pemon territory with soliders in tow even if they did have a local with them to keep the peace, "I'm hopping they know how to not kill peaceful locals and start and incident that could end up getting us all killed."

He took a sip from the tea and flinched, his gums still sensitive to hot liquid after the beating he had taken, "I also hope they're using something other than those shitty wind-up rifles Her Majesty's millitary issues because they won't be worth shit out there. Have you already secured a boat?"

"Father armed them with those..." Lady Paget paused, obviously recalling something committed to memory "... lever-action, breech-loading, tubular magazine rifles designed by Benjamin Henry Tyler of the New Haven colony. Not that I've ever been there, though the picture post cards I've seen of New Haven in the winter looks beautiful."

"As for their discipline, I will vouchsafe for their character and self-discipline," Lady Paget added. "The boat and other supplies...I thought it best to secure your services, or rather someone like you, before acquiring a boat and other supplies."

Flynt made a noise somewhere between surprise and approval. The Henry was no Winchester but it was good rifle out on the Wildlands. He still wasn't convinced that they wouldn't be assholes and cause a scene, but his experiences had given him a very skewed opinion on them. But that tended to happen when he routinely got into drunken fist fights with them over card games.

"If we're gonna need a boat I know a guy. Takes missionaries up the river a couple times a year to see the Pemon. Simple things, doctors to give check-ups to the children and Bible's to try and spread the word of their dear and fluffy lord. Boat ain't fancy but it's reliable. If you're not too picky about your accommodations."

The Native girl said something low and musical and Lady Paget nodded. "Tuenkaron says she knows the man you're talking about and that her people...well, I don't think they necessarily approve of him, but they don't disapprove of him either," Lady Paget relayed. "She also suggests we might considering bringing along one of the missionary doctors on the trip. I'd be more than willing to make a donation, compensation, whatever it takes. I understand that there is a mission hospital run by doctors and nurses from Massachusetts Bay. If you have no objections, I'll stop by and see if a donation might persuade one of their staff members to accompany us."

"What I plan to do is spend a few days around Angel Falls, asking a few questions of the locals, taking soil and plant samples, and seeing if I can find something of geological or archaeological interest in the area...that sort of thing," Lady Paget continued. "No doubt you've heard of the Wandering City, but there are a few interesting stories connecting that fabled metropolis with Angel Falls that I'd like to investigate. So my plan is to go upriver to Angel Falls, spend a few days at the base, and then return to Cumaná. I presume that will be an achievable goal, Mr. Flynt?"

Luis would not be overly thrilled if he heard the Pemon simply tolerated him, the old boatman considered himself a great friend to the tirbe, for some reason, and Flynt had heard him more than once, wile deep in his cups, declare that he was quitting the so called civilized world and going to live a much more simple life amoung the Pemon. He never did, possibly due to the lack of prostitutes in the tribe but all the same it didn't stop him from making the claim atleast once a week.

He nodded in agreement when she suggested bringing one of the missionary doctors. Someone with medical knowledge would be good for no other reason than he didn't want to end up with a case of malaria again like he did the time he was acting as a Safari guide for a group of hunters comming down from New York. It was an experience he was in no great hurry to re-live.

"Well Lady Paget." He said, wiping the crumbs from his mouth with the back of one hand, "It sounds like you have a solid plan in place and it would be my pleasure to join you."

A quick glance between the three young ladies and he wondered just how pleasurable the trip could end up being.

Lady Paget and her aide-de-camp appeared not to notice anything untoward in Mr. Flynt's gaze, but the brief glare that Tuenkaron would give anyone reason the believe that she could be the Pemon version of Lorena Bobbitt if the situation called for it.

"Excellent," Lady Paget exclaimed. "There are all sorts of wild tales surrounding the connection between Angel Falls and Trapalanda. Everything from underground cities run by hydraulics to cursed idols. All nonsense, of course. After all, it's just a little over three hundred miles between here and Angel Falls. I dare say that if there was anything fantastical in the vicinity, it would have been discovered by now. However, there are some interesting wall paintings in the vicinity, and nobody's ever done any decent cataloging of the legends of the Pemon concerning Trapalanda, so I firmly believe the results of this expedition will someday set someone firmly on the path of discovering the Wandering City."

"If you have no objections, Mr. Flynt, I shall leave the task of acquiring the necessary supplies for our expedition to you. I will send notice to the bank that you have authority to draw upon my account there for your needs, and Miss Lucille will be ready to act on my behalf if the need should arise."

The dark haired lass sitting by Lady Paget gave a quick bob of her head in response to Lady Paget.

"I will spend this time seeing if the missionary hospital might send one of their staff members along with, not only to further secure the good will of the Pemon people, but also to serve as our expedition's medical officer, if the need arises. If you have no objection, Mr. Flynt, shall we all meet at the docks to board your colleague's boat in four days time?" Lady Paget asked.

Four days to assemble the nessessary supplies and dig Luis out of whatever whore house he had crawled into and get the ship up and running would be plenty of time. He began making a mental chicklist of the he basics and where he could source them from and caught himself wondering if the upper crust British girl would be able to tolerate roughing it in the jungle.

"Legends always have some shred of truth somewhere in them Lady Paget, atleast in my experience."

With a breif grunt he pushed himself to his feet, "If there's nothing else to go over Lady Paget, I'll get to work, I'm sure Luis is going to need to dry out before he can get to work prepping the boat. Maybe Miss Lucille would care to join me?"

Lucille looked as if she was about to glad volunteer when Tuenkaron said something. Lady Paget look surprised but Tuenkaron was insistent.

"Well, I suppose I need Lucille's assistance anyway," Lady Paget replied. "Tuenkaron has volunteered to accompany you. Considering that she, among the three of us ladies, will be most familiar with the requirements of this journey, I believe she will be the one best able to assist you in your shopping."