Dovar took a restrained gulp of the iced tea before him. The cool liquid was a divine relief against his mouth. It was a fight to not down it in a single gulp. He wiped sweat off his brow and leaned back in his seat. His shirt strings had been as undone as he could, baring himself to the strange sun-disk and relieving what little heat he could.

He’d intended to observe the people passing on the street, but the heat was turning his mind to sludge. Each thought caked together, clotting into an unreasoning headache at the top of his skull.

Two days, he hadn’t been in Korfyi for more than two days, and already it felt like the heat would kill him. At first, he’d scoffed at the men dressing like women with their skirts, but now he was about ready to run naked through the streets if it would grant him some relief.

The only good thing about this miserable plane was how unlikely their weird bronze-disk-sun was to burn. In Vednar people would be scorched darker than an Ankirian by the second week. Yet here, the darkest was still a few shades lighter than Pashar. He hadn’t even been burned.

A stone rested on a string against his chest, a chill relief that shone with a dim gray light. He looked out across the street, watching the many strange people go through many strange rituals. They were all tethered.

Every. Single. One.

They should’ve been valued members of society, yet they were the norm. Anywhere on Vednar, they could’ve made themselves a comfortable life. Instead, they were living simple ones here.

Or rather. They were living extravagant ones, yet believing it to be normal. The roads were paved. All of them. Not just the main road. He’d even seen people working on the major travel routes between cities. Not just close-lying ones, either.

There was a crew in Eriene, Ranvir’s home, working towards Crotenus and that was supposed to be three days away by wagon. Dovar shook his head and sipped his tea. Ice cubes fell against his lip and he snorted.

He’d grown up with access to ice year-round, but only the rare places had access to tethered that could make or freeze water. There’s been no wait here. Amalia and Kasos had simply asked for a table. Everyone else had ice in their drink as well. He’d almost been tempted to ask where they got it from, but didn’t want to seem like an uneducated yokel.

He sensed no ice-tethered in the building, but maybe it was stored elsewhere.

The old man’s thin hair curled, having grown slightly too long, though his cheeks were clean of any scruff. He was dressed as seemed the fashion in a tunic and skirt, paying no heed to the heat.

Amalia was in a dress, loose on the torso but marked with a religious symbol. She cared even less for the overbearing warmth than Kasos did, her clothes reaching her ankles, yet not a spot of sweat was on her.

“Do you want another one?” Amalia asked, looking at him amusedly.

Dovar realized he’d been resting the ice against his lip. He lowered the glass and wiped at his lip with a napkin. They’d provided each with one, made of some thin but soft cloth. It wasn’t a material he’d ever use as a garment, though it might function as cheap lace. How the bar had gotten enough for each person—

Dovar interrupted his own train of thought and nodded his head. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Careful,” Kasos said with a gleam in his eye. “Too much might rot your teeth.”

Dovar frowned and looked at him. “Rot my teeth? It will infect them?”

Kasos’ clear amusement ground against Dovar’s heat-shortened temper. “The sugar. It’ll wear into your teeth.”

“Sugar…” Dovar looked at the empty glass. He knew it of a few nobles who had some unfortunate dental hygiene, but were they related? “I’ll watch my intake.” He rubbed a finger over the glass, gathering chill condensation on his thumb.

Kasos leaned back in his chair and sipped his drink with a sigh of relief. “Back in my day—“

“Here we go,” Amalia said, rolling her eyes.

“Back in my day, things weren’t this easy. There weren’t as many bars. The food wasn’t this good.” Kasos put the tea down with a light ‘tink’ of glass on wood. “We used to work for our food. It wasn’t so cheap. It couldn’t be made as easily.”

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“Really?” Dovar said, cocking his head. Amalia gave him an amused look.

Kasos nodded. “We didn’t have no potragos to transfer goods across countries within a single day. The Sentinels weren’t yet as good at their job. Many times throughout the year, we had to delve into the folds rather than focus on our labor. We had to fight for our right to life.”

“That sounds difficult,” Dovar said. “I didn’t realize it was that dangerous here.”

Kasos shrugged, tipping his glass off kilter and running the bottom edge in a circle on the table. Dovar glanced at Amalia, finding a barely contained smile.

“Phormos hadn’t yet solidified his hold on Limclea, so there were wars all over the northern planes. The Red Raid and many lesser skirmishes resulted because of his focus on internal stability.”

“I didn’t realize you’d fought in a war. Ranvir didn’t make it sound like you were a warrior.”

Kasos coughed and blushed slightly. “Well, I wasn’t a warrior. But that kind of engagement affects the land for miles and miles around. Food got more expensive, opportunities grew fewer.”

Dovar nodded in understanding. Many people he knew of were forced to send their sons off to the front lines to fight. Leaving anything for more than a couple of children was difficult, especially if there were bride-prices involved. Dovar himself had seen the sums they’d worked with for his initial engagement.

It wasn’t a simple affair and most people wouldn’t recoup the loss through deals made with the husband’s family. Things only got more extreme when you involved families with tethered in them.

“That sounds like it was very difficult.”

Kasos nodded and stroked his smooth-shaven chin. “Times were tough, but so were the people born in them.”

Amalia shook her head and lightly slapped the table. “I think that’s where I have to cut you off, Old Man.”

Kasos blew out a breath at her. “What is this now?”

She smiled at him. “Where did you work, when you were Dovar’s age?”

“I was an attaché to Ione. Together, we undertook many political efforts. Including the one where we met your grandfather.”

“How did you get this job?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Kasos blushed and shrugged. “It was offered to me because of the merits of my efforts.”

“During your schooling?”

Kasos nodded.

“You were a noble?”

The old man looked at Dovar. He seemed momentarily taken aback. “Well, no. I just worked hard to better my understanding of political contracts. I proved deft with murk-mana, showing a deeper than average understanding of it.”

“But you got schooling?”

“Of course.”

Dovar frowned in confusion. “And you paid for it?”

Kasos shrugged.

Dovar pursed his lips. “So you did service, then? To the King?”

“Well, obviously. We were good at our jobs.”

Dovar frowned, considering Kasos’ words. Slowly, thoughts gelled together in the flesh-cursed heat. “You did service for the King because you were good at your jobs. But if you had been worse, then you wouldn’t have?” the Old Man nodded. “So, your parents were rich enough to afford an education, even during wartime?”

“My parents paid for the part of the year education was undergoing. But I wouldn’t say they were rich.”

Dovar frowned. “But they paid for education? And you were working at the same time?”

“Of course, I helped.”

“Kasos,” Amalia interjected. “I think what Dovar is looking for is what kind of money your parents were making and how many children they had.”

“Oh.” Kasos threw his hands up like it was obvious. “They were cobblers. I was the eldest of three.”

“Ah,” Dovar said, finally understanding. “The eldest gets the education. The second takes over the business, maybe the third goes into army or religion?”

“No, we all get an education. From there, it’s the family’s job to figure out where to go. Mostly first-born do tend to follow their parents’ expertise. It was more common when I was a child, yes, but not unusual to see someone like me.”

Dovar scratched at his head. “What? I don’t…” he sighed and slumped back into his chair. “So you were rich enough to pay for education on a… cobbler’s pay. What kind of shoes were they making?”

“Everyone gets an education, Dovar,” Amalia said. “It’s not a privilege, it’s a civilian right. Most homes haven’t had a continual stew pot for over a century. Pregnancies aren’t dangerous. Our childhood mortality rates are way lower. The ‘open-war’ or skirmishes were noble disputes.”

Kasos’ face flashed into understanding, open-mouthed and eyebrows raised, then blushed a deep red in embarrassment.

“Kasos’ ‘hard-times’ are still in your future. Don’t get me wrong, life has gotten better every generation. I’ve grown up with better education and more opportunities than Kasos.”

Kasos sighed and shook his head. “I think I owe you an apology, Dovar.”

“I think I’m still confused,” Dovar admitted, struggling to wrap his mind around all the details Amalia had just thrown out at him.

“I got used to ‘being the old man’ and complaining about life. I can’t believe I didn’t know these things.” He shook his head with a sigh.

“You didn’t spend so long with Ranvir and both of your are too interested in Amanaris and the spirit to talk about anything else.” Amalia rested her hand on weathered forearm. “I’ve spent many long days with Ranvir. You can only talk about the same things for so long before the conversation eventually moves on.”

Kasos shook his head, still appearing disappointed with himself, but didn’t continue the conversation. A waiter was approaching, a grizzled man in his late-forties following behind. His hairline had receded into a crescent, cupping the scalp.

“This guest asked for you,” the waiter said and Amalia nodded, gesturing to the last chair at the table.

The waiter nodded and left as the man took the chair. “You guys are the ones from the school? Looking for understanding?” he asked with a hopeful look on his face. He had the mien of a veteran soldier, his spirit feeling like old rain.

“That we are,” Amalia said, tapping her jaw. Dovar hastily followed suit as everyone exchanged the greeting. “Why do you want to join?”

“Well…”