Theo woke up, reflexively refreshing the air as he yawned. It was completely dark, and he reached for where he placed the glowball by his side. After groping around for a moment, his hand closed around the cool glassy orb and mana flowed into it.

With a grunt, he opened up the ceiling, letting in the faintest strands of sunlight. It was enough to tell the time – barely after sunrise.

Time confirmed, he settled back down, got dressed, and shoved what he hoped was one of the last rations he would hopefully have to eat for a while.

It wasn’t that they were repulsive or difficult to eat; and they were made to be nutritionally satisfying (which was a very good thing considering the almost barren state of the land he had been running through – barely any wildlife and no berries or plants to forage).

But after a week of eating the same ration for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it was starting to wear on him. The jerky was running low, and he had tried to eat some of the grass once before making the decision to never do that again. Theo was sure that someone who knew what they were doing could make a serviceable dish out of it; but that someone was not him.

He was considering suggesting to Tiffany a variety of different flavours, just a few so it wouldn’t be so easy to get sick of them when he returned home. His mind wandered to rations that tasted like pickles, cream, and oranges.

…maybe he would think of flavours when he wasn’t craving anything that wasn’t a dry block of sawdust.

On the bright side, the constant running wasn’t as mind-numbing as he was afraid it could be – the freedom of high-speed movement hadn’t lost its charm yet, and while the scenery had blurred into monotony by the second day, it was more meditative than boring.

Stretching, he looked forward to the food available in Etol. If he was navigating correctly, he would reach his destination today. Thelonious had gone on more than one tangent about food, so he was looking forward to pasta, fish, and whatever tomatoes were.

Mostly the tomatoes, and whatever other fresh fruit and vegetables were available.

Theo cautiously emerged from the hole, stepping out fully into the sunlight, and for the last time on this trip, the place he slept last night filled back up with earth, leaving barely any trace of his passing.

He shifted the pack from his back into his arms and, bouncing on the balls of his feet, he approached Etol.

---

Hours later, it became clear when he was getting close. The scattering of villages and other outposts became a lot more common, and the smell of salt floated in the air.

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Grass became sandy beaches, and Theo was confronted with pristine water. He noted that, unlike the lakes near Union City, nobody seemed to be swimming near the shore. Etol was a coastal kingdom, known for its defensibility and inability to be sieged, as any attempt to cut off the food supply would be stymied by their access to fresh fish. And any attempting to attack by sea were obvious and easily dealt with by their navy.

It was also a place of wealth. The entire kingdom was protected by walls of polished marble, accented with sandstone. Clearly, it had been a long time since anyone attempted to sack the city.

Theo slowed down as the walls came into view, assuming a more reasonable pace for the average person.

What also came into view was a line of people waiting to enter the city. There were carriages and wagons pulled by horses, pilgrims (who he hoped he would blend in with), and many more walking to join the line, all of whom came from the other direction. It stretched so far that Theo readied himself for a three hour wait.

“Hail, fellow travellers. Have you come far?” Theo held his hand up in greeting as he joined the line.

“Hail, fellow traveller. Not too far for the grace of the Gods. Praise be.” A tall figure responded, and several others prayed in unison with him.

“Praise be.” Theo sent off a prayer as well, but in contrast to what he assumed were genuine pious thanks, he prayed to Gilth that his acting was genuine. Either way, a mote of mana drifted upwards from his being the same as everyone else.

“I presume you are also here on pilgrimage?” The same figure asked.

“Yes. I’ve heard many things about The City of Gods back in Gorod.” Theo had chosen a name and identity completely divorced from his own, and chose a (relatively) close neighbour of Union City – that of Gorod. It was close enough that the direction from which he approached made sense, but also didn’t make it obvious that he was coming from Union City itself. Unfortunately, his lessons with Thelonious hadn’t covered that part of the world in much detail, so he would have to bluff and hope nobody asked too many questions.

“We came from the Mughalratha Empire.” They helpfully supplied.

Theo nodded, turning his attention back to the fortress gates in front of them. The group from the Mughalratha Empire started to talk amongst themselves, and he breathed out slowly, glad that they took his silence as disinterest at more small talk, rather than a desire to hide things and be less notable.

He waited patiently in line, outwardly calm as he ran through everything again and again, thinking of contingencies and plans and backups for backups.

Eventually, almost three hours later, after the pilgrims from Mughalratha entered, it was his turn.

The guards were as gaudy as the walls, shining metal helmets and pauldrons worn over red clothing.

“Please state your name, origin, and purpose of your visit.” One guard stood at a lectern with a large scroll in front, repeating the same phrase like he’d done the same for years and years, even in his sleep. Considering how long the line to enter was, even on a day like this, there was a good chance he had done exactly that.

“I am Sergey. I am from Gorod. I am here on a pilgrimage.”

The guard looked at him for a moment, squinting slightly. Theo didn’t respond or react, even as he was freaking out internally that his cover was blown.

“I hear the weather is terribly cold over there. Enjoy the sun. Next!” And with that, the guard’s scrutiny disappeared (as did the weight on his chest).

Theo nodded, and stepped into Etol.