Around the southern end of the high greystone walls that encircled Loso stretched a vast but mostly fallow field of wheat, growing atop a belt of artificially flattened land. Gideon suspected that leveling out such a large area from the surrounding hills had taken a tremendous amount of time and backbreaking labor for the slaves of the great houses of Loso. He'd seen the field many times, but for the first time he found himself wondering about the people who’d done the work, however many years ago.

Scores of slaves worked in the field as the caravan passed by, harvesting what little remained of the spring-sown wheat under the watchful eyes of horse-mounted overseers. Judging by their skin tones and hair color, the majority of the slaves seemed to be Forelians. Surelin stared at them intently for a while before turning to Gideon.

“They’re Forelians?”

He looked away from her, out towards the slaves. “Yeah. Seems like it.”

Despair colored her expression as she turned to follow his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

Her head gave the barest nod as she stared at them.

“Why do Forelians have dark and light skin?”

Surelin turned back to cast an angry glare at him, but soon relaxed. “...I forgot. You don’t know the Scriptures.”

He shrugged lightly.

She placed her hands in her lap, gathering her thoughts for a moment. “It’s the very first lesson, so it’s still a bit surprising that you don’t know. To make a very long story short, Kali was the clanmother of the Suemia, a group of tribes who had fled from the far east after being persecuted by the magistrates of the Eastern Kingdoms. They migrated down the great eastern highway, passing by Loso after being shunned by the people of that city. But Kaan, the clanfather of the Forna tribes who lived in the lands that would soon become Forelia, welcomed the Suemia as brothers and sisters. The two clans were united as one people when Kaan and Kali married.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow at her as she continued. “Kali and her people were light skinned and had brown or blonde hair, as most people do who live in the easternmost part of the Eastern Kingdoms. Kaan and his people had dark skin and brown, curly hair. And there you have it.”

He furrowed his brows at her. “...But why is there such a stark contrast? Didn’t the rest of the Suemia and Forna intermarry?”

The question clearly made her uncomfortable, and she looked away from him. “...It does happen, but there’s a…hierarchy. The descendents of the Forna tend to be wealthier than the Suemia. Including my family.”

She looked out at the field once again. “...Or at least, we were. We’ve all been humbled in the worst way imaginable.”

“You said they had blonde and brown hair,” Gideon said, “so did the brown haired Suemia become the Kenanites?”

Surelin blinked slowly as she stared at the laboring slaves. “Yes.”

The conversation died off, and they quietly watched the scene playing out in the field as the caravan neared Loso’s south gate.

Once the caravan rolled to a stop, Gideon and Surelin put their rucks on for the first time in four months and dropped off the wagon. The caravanners remained seated atop their driving benches behind the oxen. Kara was the only one who had dismounted, and she was speaking to a guard sergeant under the gate’s massive arch.

The pair interrupted her to say their goodbyes. Kara shook Gideon’s hand firmly, but when it was Surelin’s turn Kara wrapped her in a bear hug.

"No, I'll never let you go! Not unless you promise to visit me in the morning!"

Surelin made the promise, smiling, and Kara finally released her. As the pair walked away, Kara resumed describing the attack they’d experienced to the sergeant, who’d been quite flustered by the sudden interruption.

Loso was a city of narrow cobblestone streets and tall, timber-framed buildings. In comparison to Kenan’s generously wide and straight main thoroughfares, Loso’s streets were like winding footpaths that curved in seemingly random directions throughout the city. The south gate opened into a plaza, one that was just large enough for a caravan to enter, load or offload goods, and then turn about to exit. The largest streets leading out of the plaza were not wide enough to allow wagons any further into the city. Farther to the north, between Loso’s north-east and west gates, the main streets were wide enough to admit caravans, and they were where most of the city's caravan activity occurred.

An endless stream of men and women, of every age and every race under the sun, walked around and through the plaza. Many of them carried wicker pots and baskets on their heads or shoulders. Most wore simple but heavy-looking cloth parkas and leggings in order to insulate themselves from Loso’s late-fall chill. Often, the people carrying things wore heavy metal collars around their necks or ankles—a common enough sight throughout Loso's south side.

Just before Gideon and Surelin on the north side of the plaza, a rank of tightly packed four-story buildings divided the two main streets, painted in milk white and chestnut brown. They were decorated with various signs and colorful advertisements for goods and services being offered inside. On the ground floor, an open air butcher’s shop was flanked by outfitters and stables, all of them quite busy with people coming and going. Gideon spotted a long rope of red sausages hanging by a string off the rafters of the butcher’s ceiling, and he nearly suggested to Surelin that they stop to buy it before remembering that he could easily afford a much better meal.

Between the buildings were stairwells that opened to the plaza, the entrances guarded by pairs of tough looking men who quickly vetted people before allowing them up. Each floor of the buildings contained a different shop, and the men were quite busy with admitting interested customers to the stairwell. A trickle of people came down the stairs, carrying armfuls of bulky burlap sacks full of random goods.

Around the rest of the plaza were other shops and businesses—stables and taverns, mostly, but a handful of blacksmiths and artisans as well. Shadowy alleyways barely wide enough to admit a full grown man divided the buildings, leading deeper into the indiscernible depths of the city. To the northwest lay the market street, which led into the merchant’s quarter and eventually to the west gate. The northeastern street was known as the low street, which led into the slums. After passing through the slums, the low street entered the Elysium Hills in Loso’s north-east corner, where most of the lords and ladies of Loso resided. They lived in expansive estates that were walled off from the rest of the city, guarded by the most expensive mercenaries money could buy.

Surelin came to a stop in the dead center of the plaza, looking quietly at all the activity going on around them.

“We should get something to eat, first,” Gideon said.

She immediately shook her head. “Later. Where is the merchant’s quarter from here?”

He shrugged and pointed to the market street. She set off towards it, walking with a sense of purpose. Gideon trotted up next to her as she led on.

They joined the stream of people moving along the street, blending in easily with the crowd. More than a few of the people who were walking down the street alongside them were visibly armed, and occasionally they passed small groups of armed and armored men standing guard at the entrances to shops or private residences.

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The merchant’s quarter was an inconsistent mix of upper and lower class homes, restaurants, taverns, and assorted businesses. On one side of the street, Gideon and Surelin passed a line of small but extravagant villas, protected by low walls and armed, patrolling guards. Across from the villas, a noisy tavern swallowed and spat out drunks, mercenaries, laborers, and prostitutes. Side streets branched off from the market street at random intervals, oftentimes creating a traffic bottleneck at the intersections. There tended to be a higher concentration of dwellings along the side streets, but it was still possible to find every type of business on them.

Surelin paid very close attention to their surroundings, scanning each building they passed along the way. After a few minutes, though, she glanced at Gideon.

“What do you know about this area? Do you think you can take a guess at where my grandmother’s villa is?”

He scoffed quietly. “I can take you to a couple good taverns and hiring halls around here, but that’s about it. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I thought you were from here,” she said, frustrated.

“I’m not actually from the city itself.”

She looked over at him with a deep frown.

“What? I’m from a village west of here.”

Her head shook with disappointment as she went back to scanning.

For the next hour, they traveled down the length of the market street. When they reached the west gate, Surelin wordlessly turned around and headed back the way they’d just come.

Gideon sighed heavily as he caught up with her. “There has to be something you know about this place. You really don't know anything about it?”

She didn’t reply, but a sour expression appeared on her face as she continued to look around.

“Maybe some food will help you think. Here-”

They had just reached an open-air grill, one with a few empty stools placed in front of a chest-high counter situated right by the street. An overweight Losoan man dressed in overalls with short, graying hair stood at the grill, cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious in a cast iron skillet. Gideon walked up and sat down on one of the stools, placing his ruck by his feet, and Surelin reluctantly joined him.

She looked stressed as Gideon put in their order. “Two gyaros.”

The man made no acknowledgement whatsoever that he’d heard Gideon, but he pulled out two small loaves of rye bread from below the counter. A bread knife seemed to appear from thin air in his hand, and with it he skillfully sliced two pockets out of the loaves. He dumped the contents of the skillet into the pockets, strips of an unidentifiable meat doused in a reddish sauce, then unceremoniously plopped the bread bowls onto the counter in front of the pair.

Surelin picked at her food, pushing and prodding the bread with her fingers as she stared at it glumly.

“It’s not going to eat itself,” Gideon said wryly.

“I’m not hungry.”

He shrugged, and took a huge bite out of his bread bowl. The meat was lamb, the sauce a zesty combination of tomatoes, peppers, and garlic. It tasted almost as delicious as it smelled.

“I was living in a nightmare,” she said abruptly. “It was so terrible that I was sure nothing else could ever come close to it. So how can this feel so bad?”

She shook her head fiercely, as if she were trying to shake bad thoughts away. “She’s still alive, and she’s here. Somewhere. She has to be. Has to. I don’t know what I’ll do if she isn’t.”

“Surelin, if I have to be the one to tell you to have some faith then something’s gone really wrong.”

“...Pft!”

Gideon looked over and saw a grudging smile on her face as she stared down at her food.

“We’re going to find her, no matter what,” he said. “And if she isn’t here, we’re going to find out where she went.”

She looked up from her food and studied his face for a while, then gave him a firm nod.

“You should eat it. It’s seriously good.”

Her mood seemed to lift a bit more after she took a bite. “...You’re right.”

He nodded solemnly at her.

Surelin ate the rest of her meal in meditative silence. As he finished off his own meal, Gideon thought over the problem.

Maybe this villa we’re looking for is one of the nicer ones, since her grandma is royalty. Or maybe it isn't, for some reason. Fuck me, finding this place with no clues at all is gonna be almost impossible.

When they were finished, he put a single denar on the counter for the old man, who accepted it wordlessly. Surelin quickly put her ruck back on, and looked on impatiently as Gideon did the same. They rejoined the stream of people flowing towards the south gate.

Gideon looked around at the buildings they passed, shaking his head. “Why is she even here, Surelin? Why wasn't she in Forelia?”

“...She was convinced that war with the Kenanites was inevitable, so she came here to negotiate with the great houses for their support. That, and hire some mercenaries to supplement our forces. I don’t think she succeeded with either effort.”

The bit about the mercenaries surprised him. “Seriously? Then why didn’t she hire us? Dance had no great love for the Kenanites. He probably would’ve agreed to sign us on with you.”

An angry sigh exploded from her. “I don’t know! She never talked about that kind of thing in her letters!”

“Well what did she talk about?”

“I…Not that, okay?!”

“Look, your family was wealthy, right? So she should’ve been able to afford one of these nicer villas. Right?”

“...Possibly. She didn’t come here with my family’s entire treasury in tow.”

An exasperated sigh left him. “Fine, so is she the type of person who would buy a villa right here on the market street, or would she choose one of these quieter side streets?”

She looked surprised. “Oh! She would’ve chosen a quieter place.”

He gave her a smug smirk. “There we go! Well alright, let’s start checking out the side streets.”

“Don’t give me that kind of look! You big fool.”

“What kind of look do you want, then?”

“Oh, shut up. Stop trying to distract me.”

“Sorry,” he smirked.

Surelin looked away from him with a smile and a roll of her eyes.

For the next few hours, they trawled the side streets, walking past a countless amount of villas, taverns, and workshops. Some of the villas they passed had armed guards standing at their entrances, and from that Surelin gleaned another clue.

“She brought a protection detail with her. They were Forelians, naturally.”

Gideon nodded. “Keep a lookout for armed Forelians. Got it.”

She seemed to become frustrated again, though, when he pointed out that they might have already passed it. The exterior of the villas rarely provided any information they could use to identify who lived within them. There was also no guarantee that her grandmother had posted her guards outside of her villa, if she was even in Loso at all.

It certainly didn’t help that there were dozens upon dozens of side streets, and some of them stretched for miles. Quite a few also had their own smaller side streets, and each one had to be checked out for thoroughness.

By late afternoon, they had fully explored only four of the main side streets and their offshoots. They had reached a dead end on one of the branching offshoots when Gideon spoke up to put a halt to their search.

“Surelin, let’s stop for now. We need to find a place to stay.”

“No! We can’t stop yet, there’s still light out.”

“C’mon. We’ll just take a break, for an hour or so. Less, even. I want to find a place to shed this ruck, I’m tired of walking around with it.”

Surelin stared down at her boots for a while, thinking, then looked up at Gideon. “...Okay. Only if it’s a break. Where can-”

Her head whipped towards something behind him, and she gasped sharply. He turned to face what she’d seen.

Thirty feet away from them, a woman with dark skin—nearly as tall as Gideon—was standing in the middle of the street, staring intensely at Surelin. Her left hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed broadsword strapped to her belt, and Gideon immediately noticed signs of wear and tear on the sheath, a clear indication of extensive use. Along with the sword, she wore leather armor not entirely dissimilar to Gideon’s, with a small metal plate strapped atop her left shoulder. She looked to be about Surelin’s age, and she was also quite beautiful, with a heart-shaped face and high cheekbones. Her brown, curly hair was tied in a bun behind her head.

“Princess?” she asked.