For the nth time since time’s beginning, the world dimmed as evening so grew. Truly, what a repetitive cycle day and night were; yet without such, time would certainly be monotonous and hollow, if not utterly maddening.

Nevertheless, at long last, materializing—metaphorically—in the flat horizon afar and in the distance…were those creamy reddish-white walls belonging to that most dominant city in the eastern bulge: Strawberry. Despite being the namesake of Strawberry County, this city was not actually the capital fief—that holding being a castle-compound close to, but nonetheless further out from, the city proper

Although it was located further away from sources of fresh water, a rather…visibly evident network of large aqueducts—both towering structures and ground-level ditches—ferried water in and out of the city, as well as distributing throughout the realm collectively—towns, agricultural villages, such and such. This integrated water-supply and distribution thereof was a rather unique characteristic of Strawberry County and the bulge’s five principal counties, at least with respect to the rest of Huckleberry.

Likewise, travel within the county itself seemed to have been a rather straightforward and relatively simple endeavor; they had not been stopped by retinues of every vice sub petty semi-dukedom demanding clearances or…coin.

This was owed to the fact that Strawberry—as with the other four principal counties—had inherited and continued a more…centralized feudal tradition separate from Huckleberry’s—centralized practice that also extended to the realm’s sworn vassals and their vassals, of which were kept concise. Thus, neither the count nor his vassals were as burdened by the same…multi-layered hyper-compounding ‘feudal nightmare’ to which most other realms were shackled, even if the county itself was shackled to such.

Consequently, once one was within the recognized dominion of the Count of Strawberry County and all of his lands and that of his title-granted subordinates, the assumption was that one was allowed to be there.

Such was yet another one of the many…stark differential contrasts between Strawberry—between the five principal counties of the eastern bulge generally—and the greater Huckleberry Dutchy.

And, needless to say, it was quite apparent that this…lack of burdensome—and extortive—travel had its effects. Lining themselves in a long tail that extended far out from the actual ports of entry were wagons and carriages clamoring for entrance.

Truly, already beforehand traveling within the eastern bulge had made it easier to forget that this entire sovereignty was in a state of civil war, yet Strawberry seemed completely detached from all of that. Whereas most of the other realms visited prior within the dutchy seemed to have had…this shadow of bleakness and despair even within the most joyous parts, Strawberry seemed to be thriving; such was evident from not having even entered the city—the heart of the county—itself.

However, such realities only seemed to beg further questions… For indeed, there was a sense being carried by the winds through the air around, so to speak; a feeling of…rising militarism despite the war being so far; a reverberation of…rising tensions and frustrations emanating from shadows casted behind those walls…despite the prosperity within.

“That is quite the lot of traffic…” Blue observed, peeking her head out next to Red’s position, having squeezed herself to the wagon’s front; “I have been here a few times before, but…I do not recall anything this excessive the last time…” she was remarking before…abruptly, she burped. An embarrassed blush instantly entered her cheeks as she ahemed; “Father above forgive my trespasses… Ahem…”

Red eyed… “Better not almost puke on me again…”

Blue gently grumbled; “Hey, I was sickly!” she protested; “Be glad that it was an almost puking upon thee!” Aheming, “Anyway, as I was saying…” she tried to refocus.

“Yeah,” Red thus spoke, “but that was before the war… Since then, looks like someone’s been prospering from the bloodshed…”

“Hmm…” Blue pondered in gentle mumble; “Prospering? How do you mean?”

“Well,” Novea—ever the walking-talking book—so inserted herself, “Strawberry is in the north of the eastern bulge, the county bordering many other sovereignties… Its ease of travel in both terrain and…customs, as well as Strawberry’s own long-standing maintaining of lower-than-average tariffs, it naturally became an intermediate trade hub—merchants, traders, slavers, or whoever…used it as a stopping point where they can buy and sell goods amongst themselves for cheaper and then—”

“Freelancer, girly” Blue interrupted; “I worked with merchants all the time; I know what an ‘intermediate trade hub’ is—skip along, if you may…” Her voice was respectful, at least.

“Rightly…” Novea…ahemed; “Anyway, because of the rebellion and the…unsafety brought about, Grandberry’s own…growing excessiveness, and its closeness to the Big Dividing River, Strawberry has probably become a preferrable center of trade overall—no longer an intermediate… That could explain the traffic” she thus explained.

“Hmm…” Blue mumbled as she pondered… “That makes sense… That could also explain the extra busyness we saw throughout Riverberry…” she reflected, eyes drifting back to the sights ahead in front… “Although, now that I ponder… That could explain the load, but the not the actual traffic… I recall Strawberry being fairly timely about traffic, never allowing the wait to become Sparklewater-degrees; so, this seems awfully excessive—the wait, to clarify…”

“Yeah… No…” Red began to remark, “I’ve been through Greenfield enough to know when I see a Gods’ fucked holdup—they’re inspecting every wagon, I bet…” His eyes were cast to the sky ahead as he spoke, his inferences being drawn from what he was seeing…

“What are…with those fancy basket-balloons, anyhow?” Blue inquired, her eyes gazing much the same…

Indeed, dotting the skyway above the city afar were many hovering air-balloons of evidently Far Western origins; advanced scouts during times of war, yet within such a city…

“Watchmen…” Red thus muttered… “Keeping eyes on shit, huh?”

“The United Trade Company has a branch headquarters here; likely from them…” Novea stated.

“Yeah, no shit, considering every other wagon I’m eyeing seems to be waving the seven-striped banner like they’re Demon-King ransacked trade boats” Red bluntly replied.

“I know we’re still quite far, but…everything feels on edge… I thought you said Strawberry was prospering from the war, so…?” Blue pondered…

“Prosperity doesn’t mean everyone’s happy… Especially when it comes who’s prospering and who isn’t” Red frankly replied, eyes focusing…

Red’s…already tensed posture became increasingly more uneased the closer their wagon—and that which so drew it forth—came to that line of wagons clamoring to enter.

“Yeah, no… This won’t do… Too many mercantile bozos…” he thus spoke before, rather abruptly, he nudged the unicorn to turn itself—to which the unicorn begrudging acquiesced—as the wagon went off road and onto the rosy plains about.

“What are you doing, Red?” Novea immediately interrogated.

“If I remember rightly, you said we’ll be splitting once we get here?” yet Red counter asked.

“Yeah.” Novea plainly replied.

“Well, seeing that we didn’t stay in Upperberry for shit the last time, how about we split from here?” he suggested.

Novea promptly stood herself up a little, eyeing the distance between…here and there… “We are…still kind of far…” she observed.

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“Yeah, and if you can climb up and hop building by building, Raven, then you can walk!” Red so stated.

“Wait, she can…climb up buildings and…”—her eyes immediately lanced sight to Novea—“Wow, so you must be fairly…potent underneath all of that…” Blue had become rather curious, both in ways proper and…improper.

“Blue…” Red eyed her…

Blue promptly ahemed; “Sorry…”

“Anyway,” Red continued forth, “there’s too many Trinity’s damned merchants and haggling-eyes, never mind Company goons who’ll salivate as soon as they see this horned horsy… And I get the feeling our Guild-affiliation won’t work on the guards once they see him too…”

“Save the justifications, I get it” Novea replied; “You do not want to risk dealing with all of the burdens of bringing the unicorn into the city without a guarantee that we will actually be staying here long-term…”

“Yeah, there you go…” Red so replied; “So, you two ladies go on your city-date, me and Blue will stay outside the walls… There’s no patch of trees or any shit to actually hide this horned horsy in, so we’ll distance ourselves from these doorknobs, make prospecting impractical”.

Novea lightly sighed; “Fine. But do not go too far away or…move too much, just to make refinding you easier…”

“Yeah, no shit…” Red thus said, the wagon coming to a gentle stop; “Doesn’t matter too much since you’ll just use your crow to snort us out anyway…” He waved his hand; “Now, get going already…”

“Fine enough…” Novea proceeded to grab her large carry-bag and the revolving-rifle, wrapping their respective straps around her shoulders, before hopping off. She immediately turned to Antica; “Come on.”

Antica, not sighing for once, simply stood herself up on command and proceeded to do the same. She grabbed her primitive backpack and hopped off the wagon—though she nearly tripped, since she had…miscalculated the…

Oh, it did not matter… Regardless, she was off the wagon.

“We will come find you in a few hours; might be after sundown, so…make camp if you must” Novea thus said.

Red, yet again, so waved his hand; “Yeah, yeah… Just get going already; don’t want to hold here and let those flies get attracted to us like open ears…”

Without another word, Novea thus walked off and began to make way to those walls afar; Antica trailed behind, silent. The wagon promptly resumed its motion, splitting ways. In short time, the two became amongst the distant figures ahead and now more behind, Red and Blue becoming much the same from their point-of-view.

The unicorn slowed slightly in its speed as Red attempted to…reposition the wagon to a better spot…to stay put and lay low; one distant and discreet enough but easily findable to those actively looking.

“So…” Blue began to speak, her voice…noticeably closer to Red’s position than even before, for she had scooted herself so; “…this means that it shall just be…I and you for the next however many foreseeable hours, alone…” she thus said, her voice becoming more…heated, or rather exposing that which had only been left accumulating within.

“Blue, seriously? We’re still in the open…” Red immediately replied.

“Oh, please… It is becoming darkened night; this is the perfect time… And…we are in a rose plain; so, this is the perfect place…” Blue so replied; “If we go far enough, we will essentially be private even if in the open—nobody will notice… And we do not have to leave the wagon, either…” her suggestive voice so suggested; “And even if they do happen to notice, well, blessed be to Fertility, Love, and Pleasure for each of three has a temple within these roselands, so I have heard…”

“Gods’ sacred toilet, Blue…” Red exhaled…

“I would not mind being your sacred toilet for the next couple of hours” Blue so immediately replied.

Red could not muster any further words or comments, besides letting out a defeated sigh… Blue was not going to relent, and he knew it…

Interim

It was a silent walk towards that line of wagons; towards those walls ahead.

Having further stretched out her hood, Antica’s eyes were open, her vision adjusting and readapting. She kept her eyes and head angled downwards, keeping them as obscure as able as her fingers held her hood’s tip. She wanted to see.

“May I speak now?” Antica finally asked…

“No-…” Novea was going to say, yet…stopped herself… She sighed; “Fine. You may…”

Antica had much pondering in mind, much having not left since that recent night… since…leaving Upperberry. These…seeming changes in Novea… Truth be told, to continue guessing, theorizing, and wondering in absence of any information to wonder about…was useless.

Hmm… Yet as thoughts lingered within, abruptly flashing into mind for whatever reason was that spellcaster denizen, Blue… Or rather, her…bickering with that adventurer, Red, which had happened days prior. The argument itself aside, Blue had been rather clear and direct in that moment… Indeed, directness…

In some cases, it was best to just be direct even if the expectation was that…no answers would be given, especially with regards to identifiable problems that…if left to fester, would certainly boil into…greater tensions and problems—as had happened with those two adventurers. And there was an identifiable problem.

“What is happening?” Antica, abruptly, so frankly inquired.

“Huh?” Novea glanced behind, seeing Antica’s…downfacing attention; “What do you…” she struggled to immediately reply… “If you are wondering what we are going to do in Strawberry, well, same as before: we will head for a safe area; you wait, I’ll meet, and then I’ll brief… Though, getting there might be more of a process.”

To be frank, that was already inferable to Antica… That was not the nature of her inquiries. However, for whatever reason, continuing this seemed…challenging. Not…intuitive or… Hmm… There was hesitancy deep down within… A hesitancy bizarre, impractical, and rather incomprehensible… For there was no reason to be hesitant.

“Alrightly” yet Novea began to speak; “We are approaching close to the line. We’ll trail next to road and skip to the gate. So, we should not be discussing this openly.” she thus said, voice rather…distant.

Indeed, the moment to continue this had waned; Antica had lost her chance, for there were now too many ears with the possibilities to hear—regardless of their actual attention or lack thereof to those cloaked figures skipping past.

The soundscape around became increasingly filled with noise from a myriad of sorts and sources. Denizens, bored and lamenting of the slow entry pacing, with many talking amongst themselves to pass time; equines of many kinds…of course; and even an array of animals so trapped in cages. Indeed, for such ‘commercial goods’ extended to animate beings.

Against better directives, Antica’s still open cyanic eyes began to…as discreetly as possible…peek at the line of wagons to her left, fingers pinching the tip of her hood as she tried to keep it stretched, her head more forward-facing though with eyes turned. Awkward, indeed, and provided only a partial glance, but it was better than nothing.

Wagons stuffed with barrels and crates and sacks and other things, some of which seemed to have mages—freelancers most likely—accompanying. So weighty these wagons seemed to be, multiple equines were required to drive. However, ‘carriages’—a separate category of primitive animal-based transportation—were also present, which did not contain any goods, rather people exclusively.

Hmm… Speaking of such, as they continued to make way towards the gate, one thing Antica was periodically noticing…were wagons transporting…cages, though not of…animals and chimeras. Rather, a handful seemed to have…denizens—poorly clothed ones at that, from what she could somewhat glimpse without fully staring bewildered; tattered, exposed albeit not completely… ‘Rags’, if that was the correct word…

Truth be told, already, to see even animals stuffed into such…cramped and poorly hygienic conditions was…something she perhaps did not find an agreeable sight deep down within, but to see…denizens—sapient beings—stuffed into such conditions… Antica was unable to pause to stare and analyze in detail, having to keep trailing behind the fast-walking Novea, but nevertheless…she had to ponder…

Hmm… Captured denizens… Prisoners; that had to be it; that was the only demographic of denizen she could conceive of to be treated so. Indeed, Remnant records were both clear and forewarning…regarding the treatment of the captured in primitive societies.

Ugh… Truly, Antica’s exhausted mind throbbed, unable to properly try to wrap itself around any further details and implication… And the awkward manner her eyes were glancing was starting to strain them so.

Her only priority this moment was not falling behind Novea by becoming too distracted. Thus, curiosity satiated enough, her discreetly glancing eyes finally withdrew as these sights became repetitive; she tightly closed them shut, letting her hearing readapt.

-|-

“…” the Strawberrien guard stared, as did his other, his other’s other, and his other’s other’s other—there were four of them at the gate, with many more around.

Having Finished handling the customs and entry of some irrelevant wagon, the front guards—thematically similar to the pistoleers encountered prior, albeit less armored, more…urban-appropriate, and clearly low-born—turned their sight to they who now stood before them, having skipped by with little…open protest.

“Hello.” Novea so greeted, Antica standing silently behind; “May we enter, please? We were cleared for entry already.” She needed not speak any further.

“Uh…” The guard looked at the Raven demanding entry, before looking at the legion of wagons behind, impatience evident…

Indeed, that line of wagons had been waiting for several hours, most expecting to have been allowed—or denied—entry into Strawberry well before the sun had begun to set. And it genuinely seemed as though that merchant and wagon, of whom these two had so just cut in front, was…more than willing to ram his horse through if he had to wait even a picosecond more.

The Strawberrien guard, quite overburdened, looked to his others who looked at him, and then to the Raven in front.

“Finely. We haven’t the time. We shan’t asken. Entere, and fastly…” the guard thus permitted.

The guards stepping aside, Novea thus began to pass through, Antica trailing along in kind…

“But doen’t be causyn’ problems foor us, Raven; we haven moore than a plenty already. Moore than a plenty…” the guard warned from behind…

“Obviously…” Novea merely acknowledged, before continuing on without further delay.