Or so Kaln eventually understood; it took him a moment to parse.

He did speak Filvallin, but only because it was necessary to read it—a scribe of the Royal Archives of Rhivkabat could not fail to be literate in at least the three most widely used languages of the continent. But even aside from his relative unfamiliarity with the spoken sounds of the language, what Kaln had normally encountered was the formal Filvallin in which books, diplomatic correspondence, and trade contracts were written. This was some kind of thickly accented regional peasant dialect.

And while he stood there struggling to catch up, Izayaroa smoothly stepped in.

“Would it not be an imposition, good sir? We should not wish to delay you, nor overtax your donkey.”

Her Filvallin was formal, of course, but the old man in the cart seemed to have no trouble following.

“Aw, you’re a kind soul to say so, m’lady, but the pair o’ you’d be no great burden to my dear Cordi. Certainly you’re less heavy than today’s load of potatoes! But not all weight is weight, aye? Hate to think o’ the two o’ ye trudgin’ along the highway when I could’ve lent a ride, aye? Couldn’t even enjoy the scenery proper, with that hangin’ over my head!”

Cordi swished her tail, ears angled backward, but did not comment. Fortunately Izayaroa’s discreet magic served to prevent animals from noticing they were in the presence of the ultimate apex predator; that was good to know.

“If you’re certain it’s no trouble,” Kaln said carefully, glancing at Izayaroa; smiling, she inclined her head slightly in approval. “We would surely be glad of a lift.”

“’Tis more trouble for two such well-bred folk to share a ride with so many potatoes than for me to give it, I’d think!” the man chuckled, and then made a peculiar gesture which Kaln interpreted as some kind of local salute; gripping the front brim of his wide straw hat, he tugged it downward for just a second and then released it. “If your feet and your dignity can meet in the middle, ol’ Marcel is glad to lend ‘is cart to both, aye!”

“Ah, but what could be more dignified than the noble potato?” Izayaroa asked, accepting Kaln’s help as she stepped into the cart—not that she needed it, but she gave him a pleased smile at the courteous gesture. “Truly, a more nutritionally perfect crop is hard to grow, at least without the aid of magic. I have often lamented that the climate and geography at home are less than suitable for them.”

“Southerners, then, aye?” Marcel asked cheerfully, flicking the reins; Cordi audibly sighed but pulled forward with no further complaint, and they began moving down the road again. Their rescuer was clearly a man in his latter years, hunched and gnarled from a life of hard work, but seemed in remarkably high spirits. “Floodplain farming, that’s where the adventure is, as I hear it! Rhivaak’s aquaculture is famous. I’ve not ‘ad the pleasure o’ tasting that golden rice grown down yonder. Up ‘ere in the valleys we grow a bit o’ rice in the terrace farms, but it’s not the same. It’s impressive to meet a lady with an interest in farming!”

“My lady’s interests are diverse and her expertise even more so,” Kaln said gallantly. Izayaroa rewarded him with another warm little smile.

“Aye, milord, ‘tis plain to the eyes you’re a luckier man than most! If a body might ask, how’d two such well-dressed travelers come to be afoot so deep in the valley? I know the southlands are peaceful, but ‘tis unwise to wander here in the Vales.”

“I fear we suffered a rather embarrassing mishap with our chariot in the forest,” Izayaroa said smoothly. “Presumably we can arrange for replacement mounts in Boisverd.”

“Oh, aye, y’can get most things in the city, I should think. It’s no Rhivkabat, but it’s fair good enough for most aims!”

“I thought we were in Boisverd?” Kaln inquired.

“The country is named for the city, husband.”

“Ah.”

“No shame, milord, these things come and go,” Marcel said merrily. “In me pa’s time, Boisverd was part o’ Heiglstadt, valley an’ all. No call to bother knowin’ it unless ye live here.”

“What news of the valley, Marcel?” Izayaroa asked.

“Ah, ‘tis a good time to visit, m’lady! As good a time as there ever is, any rate. The Dread was seen a week ago, flyin’ northeast to Arvenhall. Means he’ll be quiet another week or so, most like. Not that he hasn’t sprung the odd surprise now’n again, but he’s a creature o’ habit, ‘e is. From farm to village market to the city, all the talk of late is about the Lord of Chains, way off in the Nourdells. I hear tell ‘e’s all but pushed the outlanders off the continent entire. That’s the rule, ‘ere in the Vales: if the news is all foreign, the news is good!”

Kaln had known the Evervales were isolated, and this was a farmer in a small interior kingdom besides, but that was more behind the times than he’d expected. Even he was more up to date than that.

“In fact, the Lord of Chains conquered the Zouzhi expeditionary holdings last year,” he said. “The last news I heard from south of the Vales was that he’d taken most of them prisoner and put them to work tearing down their own fortifications.”

Izayaroa turned a suddenly serious gaze on him. “I was not aware of this.”

Oh… Actually, he didn’t know how much information she got from Rhivkabat, or by what means. It was known (or at least claimed by the Regency) that the Empress watched over them from afar, but Kaln hadn’t gotten around to inquiring about the specifics. Surely the Lord Regent had a way to contact her in the event of a crisis?

“The Zouzhi never approached Rhiva territory,” he reassured her, “otherwise the Empire would have responded. I’m sure they are monitoring the situation with the Lord of Chains.”

“To repel an incursion is one thing,” she said seriously. “If he has taken to conscripting their own forces, Zouzh likely to respond with more ferocity than their initial attempt at colonization.”

“Well, it’s a long way from here, either way,” Marcel said cheerily. “I thank ye for bringin’ me news, m’lord! That’ll make ol’ Marcel a hit at the market this week, an’ no mistake.”

“I’m curious,” said Kaln. “Considering how slow news apparently is to reach Boisverd, you’re remarkably up to date on the movements of Atrax—”

“Hss!” Marcel suddenly hissed in alarm, shooting upright in his seat with a pained grimace. The old man actually swiveled his head rapidly to scan the treetops above before catching himself. “I mean—that is—ah, humble apologies, m’lord. Deepest pardon for speakin’ so, I meant no disrespect. It’s just… We don’t say that name. Not here in the Vales—not in Boisverd or any o’ the kingdoms. Terribly sorry, I regret such rudeness from me heart, I do.”

“Not at all,” Kaln said, giving their host a warm smile when he glanced nervously back. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to misstep. You do me quite a service with the warning, Marcel, I wouldn’t want to offend the good people of this kingdom by mistake. Is it…dangerous? Can dragons know when their names are spoken?”

Izayaroa gave him a deeply amused look behind Marcel’s back, her dark eyes glittering.

“Ah, well, dunno about that, m’lord,” Marcel said with clear relief. “Maybe so, maybe not. Who could say what the beast can do? It’s more’n a bit o’ superstition, I know it—may’ap a body ought be embarrassed to take such a fright at it. But that’s life here in the Vales, m’lord. Not a soul ‘asn’t known loss at the Dread’s evil ‘ands. That name is fear itself.”

And just like that, her amusement was gone. She turned to stare expressionlessly at the passing trees. Kaln reached over to take her hand and she immediately clasped his fingers in return, running her thumb across them in a light caress, but did not look at him.

Amazing how quickly a convivial mood could die.

----------------------------------------

Fortunately it picked up as they progressed; Marcel seemed an irrepressible sort, not to mention an incorrigible gossip who was pleased to tell them every detail of life in his village and even more pleased to hear the news from south of the Vales. Kaln’s own news was somewhat out of date, as he’d spent the last year avoiding population centers as much as possible, but it was still apparently fresher than whatever had migrated into Boisverd through the normal channels, or at least than whatever had made it this far into the countryside.

The downside was that he was naturally quite curious about what a pair of foreign aristocrats (as he assumed them to be) were doing stranded in the woods, but Kaln and Izayaroa took it in turns to gently redirect the conversation whenever it came back around to them.

Traffic picked up the farther they went, with more travelers passing them on the way out of the city ahead and others joining the highway in the same direction, approaching from the various paths and roads which turned onto it. Due to both the tree cover and the turns of the road itself, the view ahead was perpetually obscured; their first sight of the city walls came when they rounded a bend and suddenly had to join a queue of carts and wagons lined up awaiting entry.

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Kaln leaned over the side, watching a much steadier flow of individuals on foot moving ahead toward the gates between the stalled wagon lane and the outgoing traffic heading the other way.

“Might be faster afoot from here, m’lord,” Marcel said apologetically, tugging the brim of his hat again. “Keepin’ ol’ Marcel company surely ain’t worth delayin’ your business in town.”

“I think we’ll take your advice,” Kaln agreed, hopping over the side of the cart. He offered a hand to Izayaroa, who again accepted his help to dismount with that pleased little smile of hers that he so enjoyed seeing. “Our thanks once more for the lift, Marcel.”

“’Twas the furthest thing from trouble, m’lord! A bit o’ company on the road is just the thing t’make the journey less dull, aye?”

In truth, Kaln felt he’d gained much more benefit than a reprieve for his feet: practice at listening to the local Filvallin. Much better to get the hang of it on the road than once they were in the city, where he risked bungling an important conversation with a merchant or city guard, or worse. He dipped his fingers into his bag of holding, whose enchantments were as convenient as Atraximos’s ever-so-helpful ward network—that was why he’d chosen this one, that and its carrying capacity. It immediately placed the object he desired in his grasp, and in the next second Kaln lightly tossed a silver coin to Marcel, who caught it by apparent reflex, fumbling slightly.

“A small token of our appreciation, Marcel. You’ve been a splendid introduction to your country for two weary travelers.”

“Oh, now, m’lord, I could never,” the old man protested, holding the coin back out toward him. “Not for any amount, let alone so much! ‘Twasn’t the merest trouble—ol’ Marcel’s conscience couldn’t leave two visitors afoot in the forest any more’n it can rest well on undeserved gains.”

“I particularly appreciate the first familiarity with local customs you’ve granted me,” Kaln rejoined. “It’s important to respect culture, don’t you think? I’d hate to give offense out of ignorance.”

“Aye, but it’s just that, m’lord!” Marcel insistently held out his gnarled old hand, the gleaming silver lying flat on his palm. “We Vale folk look after travelers on the road, those of us with a spark of decency in our souls. ‘Tis no more or less than the Shepherd asks.”

“We have a similar custom in the south.” Smiling, Kaln reached out to take the old man’s hand in both of his own, and gently folded Marcel’s fingers over the coin. “If I have the means to do a kindness for another—especially a kind soul who shows himself willing to help a traveler in turn—and I don’t do so, I’ve as good as stolen from him. You wouldn’t want to get me in trouble with the Nine, would you? Or disrespect my culture, and me a guest in these lands?”

“Oh…well, that is…”

Grinning, Kaln withdrew his hands and winked. “You’ve lost this one, my friend. But you were a worthy opponent.”

“Hah! Well, then, I must bear defeat with grace,” Marcel finally agreed, grinning back. He held up the silver coin, wagging it reprovingly at Kaln. “But we’ll meet again, m’lord, an’ I shall ‘ave me revenge! I’ll see you accept my charity one day, see if I don’t.”

“I’ll look forward to the rematch.”

Smiling broadly, Izayaroa stepped up to him and also reached out to clasp Marcel’s hand, avoiding touching the coin.

“For your kindness, good sir, may you be blessed by any and all powers which honor it. Compassionate souls are what make the world worth living in for us all.”

Kaln felt the energy swell in her as she invoked some magic, but it faded before he could focus enough to analyze it. There was no visible effect, anyway, and in the next moment she simply stepped back to rejoin him.

“Your courtesy is more precious than silver, m’lady. You’ve made an old man’s week. Shepherd watch over ye both, now.”

“Safe travels, friend,” Kaln agreed before finally turning to continue up the road, his wife strolling at his side, her hand once more entwined with his own.

“You are good with people,” she said softly, giving him a warm sidelong look through her lashes. “It is pleasing to see. I knew, of course, that you are a rather deft seducer, but it is surprising how often that does not translate to general social skills.”

“Yes, I’ve known a few very smart people with one-track minds that they kept firmly in their pants,” he agreed. “I think it’s the exception rather than the rule, though. It seems like most people who find their way to a lot of romantic successes started by working out how to handle people. Mostly because they liked to.”

“Hm.” She gave him another little glance, still smiling, but this one was…pensive.

Kaln quickly clamped down on himself before he blurted out anything else too telling.

“Then again, I’ve known plenty of introverts who found their own—”

“Good morrow, travelers.” They came up short at being addressed; while chatting, they had followed the crowd all the way to the gates, and now one of the guards keeping watch had stepped forward, raising a hand. Most of them seemed to be inspecting the vehicles passing in and out, hence the delay. “Are you associated with the occupant of yonder cart, from which you disembarked?”

The combination of more formal speech than Marcel’s and a similar accent threw Kaln off for a moment; fortunately Izayaroa stepped smoothly into the gap while he struggled to catch up.

“The kind gentleman gave us a lift, as our own conveyance was lost in the journey. Truly, such compassion to foreign travelers is a credit to your realm.”

“Ah, I see.” The guard nodded, but did not step back. “And should we expect to find anything untoward, when his cart is up for inspection?”

“Untoward?” Kaln repeated, frowning. “He said it was potatoes. I mean… Oh, you’re concerned about contraband, of course. Well, it’s not as if we inspected the sacks. That would be just my luck, though,” he added with a sigh. “The one cart in which we hitch a ride turns out to be smuggling… I don’t even know what’s illegal here. Do you need us to step aside until it gets here?”

“Sometimes, husband, you are too pure for this fallen world,” Izayaroa said fondly, reaching up to lightly touch his cheek. “Smugglers do not offer helpful rides to strangers on the road.”

“Yes, my love, now that you’ve said it out loud I can hear how obvious it is. Forgive me, our recent pattern of…strange fortune has left me a bit paranoid.”

“It’s quite all right, my lord and lady,” the guard said, now smiling slightly. “No, I don’t think we need delay you further. It’s just my job to watch for these things, you understand.”

“Of course, no harm done at all,” Kaln reassured him.

Finally, the man stepped back out of the way, nodding and gesturing them forward. “Apologies for the delay, travelers, merely due diligence. Please, proceed. Shepherd guide you.”

“Our thanks,” Izayaroa said, nodding politely as they proceeded past, and through the gate. She added in a much lower tone as soon as they were out of easy earshot, “Not bad, not bad.”

“My performance? Honestly, I don’t think it was one of my best.”

“Not you, husband,” she chuckled, squeezing his hand. “You reacted like an innocent man caught off guard; how very helpful that you didn’t have to put up a front. No, I meant the soldiers. It has been several years since I visited Boisverd, and the civil guard were of a lesser quality last time. These are firm but courteous, and not soliciting bribes. That diligence could do with some improvement, however. If he suspected us of wrongdoing he should have detained us until suspicion could be allayed; if he did not, he should not have interrupted us in the first place.”

“Hm,” Kaln mused, peering around. They were strolling now up the broad central avenue into the city. In a way it was an urban counterpart to the highway outside: hard to see what lay ahead. The road curved away to the left not far ahead, though its width and gentle arc seemed to pose no impediment to vehicle traffic. Also, the surrounding buildings were taller than he’d expected, especially right inside the walls. In Rhivkabat and other Imperial cities, there was a clear space inside the walls for strategic reasons. It was just as he’d seen from afar, too: Verdi architecture was complex and intricately detailed, with a great deal of ornamental ironwork in addition to the gargoyles and engravings which seemed to bedeck every building. Even their basic floor plans were overly complex, to judge by how many of the structures they passed had overhanging upper floors throwing shadows across the street.

“This way,” said Izayaroa, tugging him gently down a side street. This one was somewhat smaller but still a major thoroughfare—in fact, a market district. Probably one of the most important ones, given its proximity to the gate. Kaln dutifully followed her, taking in the sights and deducing what he could from them.

He’d known, of course, that this was no Rhivkabat, but he was still taken aback by how homogeneous the crowd was, considering this was a national capital. Kaln spotted a couple of elves browsing a nearby stall, and here and there over the crowd he could see the fuzzy upright ears of several types of therianthropes. It was overwhelmingly human, though, and not just human but predominantly the pale northerners who lived in this region. He and Izayaroa drew curious glances, but no more than that, so apparently the people here weren’t too shocked by foreigners. But…that was it. There might be shortfolk in the crowd, though he couldn’t see any from here; they were hard to spot in mixed groups for obvious reasons. Dwarves and halflings both liked underground settlements, so he could well imagine them settling in to an area where the main danger came from the skies. He couldn’t see a single greenskin or giantkin, however.

“Ah, that will do nicely,” his wife purred, pulling him over to a particular stand. “Let us not forget what brought us out in the first place. Two, please.”

“Coming right up!” proclaimed the stocky entrepreneur behind the counter, accepting the pennies she handed over and dunking a pair of the skewers he was grilling in the tub next to the fire before handing them over. “And a bit of extra sauce for the loveliest young couple I’ve seen today. Truly, I can’t judge which of you is the luckier.”

“Oh, it’s definitely me,” Kaln assured him, accepting one of the skewers, as did Izayaroa. “I’d love to stand here and explain why, but that’d keep us all afternoon and you’ve got a business to run.”

“Well, I never argue with a customer! But from what I’m hearing, the lady’s not doing too badly herself.” The fellow winked and Izayaroa smirked back, already pulling Kaln gently out of the way for the next customer.

The smell of it abruptly reminded him that he’d had nothing but coarse travel rations to eat in days. Only concern for the well-being of the most expensive garments he’d ever owned restrained him from unseemly haste as he lifted the skewer to his mouth and bit in.

For a second, he actually had to pause, heedless of his wife and the surrounding crowd; he didn’t quite succeed in suppressing a soft noise deep in his throat as flavors burst across his tongue. The meat was a bit gamey, but for someone who’d been subsisting on jerky and flatbread it was as good as tenderloin. Vegetables crunched with it in counterpoint, the savory fat mingling with the sweet and spicy sauce. It was simple street food, cheap and unremarkable. It was amazing.

He was three bites in and nearly done with his skewer before he noticed Izayaroa gazing up at him, and belatedly realized what a spectacle he was making.

“I, ah…sorry.”

She smiled, bright and warm, and reached up to again touch his face. “You are beautiful in unguarded moments of pleasure. Not that I haven’t observed that already, but it remains a joy to see.”

For once, Kaln found himself without a smooth reply on the tip of his tongue. It hit him unexpectedly, but even with forewarning he wasn’t sure what he should actually say to that. The feeling it caused in his chest was…distracting. And…yep, his mouth was open. Cheeks hot. What a disappointing display.

“I, ah…um, thank you.”

Her smile widened, and it was all he could do not to outright wince. “What’s this? Finally I catch you without a ready witticism?”

“I… Your pardon, my lady wife, for disappointing you. I just… I’ve never been told something like that before. It’s a little unfair to just spring it on a fellow.”

The mirth faded from her expression; the dark shapes of her disguised eyes shifted subtly as she examined his face in detail.

“You…have had other partners, surely. I have been in your arms enough to know it was not I who taught you how.”

“Well, sure,” he deflected. “There is of course no pursuit in which I would presume to think myself your equal, but I haven’t just tumbled off the potato cart, except in the most prosaically literal sense. There, see?” Kaln added a winsome, slightly mischievous little smile of his own, reaching out to brush her soft cheek with the back of his fingers. The ones without grease on them, of course. “There it is, back already.”

He was accustomed to her delightedly playing along, but this time, her expression stayed sober. She studied him in pensive silence for a second longer before replying, her tone soft.

“You…have been mishandled by past loves, I see. This I find…unsatisfactory.” Taking his hand again with her free one, she gently pulled him back into motion, sliding through the urban crowd which was ignoring them as urban crowds mostly did. “I shall have to make it my business to fill your memories with more happiness, husband. It is the very least you deserve.”

And just like that, he found himself once again without a ready response. So, since it seemed all he could do, he simply followed her deeper into the city.