"My people may be thieves and savages, but our faith is more real than the Gods your kin choose to follow." He commented, his lips tugging into a smirk that seemed to amuse him more than it would most people. The Second East, the people of Espoura and beyond, did carry the barbaric and wild stereotype from their kingdoms of merchants, slavers, warriors, murderers and self proclaimed kings. Yet what did those who had never traveled truly know? Rhoynar walked Illinfer to the stables before letting his eyes look up the full height of his fount. Twisting spires decorated in white stone, banners flowing in the window, each made of Opus cloth spun from sheep that lingered high in the hills far to the North East, spun for days by monks dedicated to the study of Espoura and the land beyond. He trailed down to the gardens and to the doors inside his home. Things would be different if his brother had remained in their world instead of surpassing into the next; the man would spout a far wisdom or give the grand advice his own little brother had been so keen to find but too blind to see for himself.

The Knight stepped into the cool shade of the towers before engaging in his own preparation. Sword; spear; clothes; coins. His hands quickly filled the brown leather pack whilst his mind began to hum over each detail he had of the item he'd been charged to find. His thoughts ticked loudly enough for him to fail to notice the door open. In the dimmed light passing through his own curtained windows stood the aging woman he called-
"Mother." The figure moved closer, taking the moment to hold her son close. Her arms clenched around him tightly as if too afraid to let go. "I'll come back to you safe, I swear." Yet still she clung, a soft sob passing her lips. Rhoynar stepped back and lowered himself to her height. "I will be safe. I'll return before the winter comes." He smiled as he took her hands into his own.

"Your mother worries. We all do. It's not everyday you're disappearing off into the deserts looking for a lost treasure for a Lord strong enough to topple the crown." His father spoke, shattering the small silence he had shared not moments ago.
"No, but whether I find it or not, I will be here before winter comes." The man kept his expression unchanged, coming near to comfort his wife.
"Take care out there. The deserts chase the sea even now."
"I will, I'll stick to the trade routes, ensure we keep to the roads." He turned and scooped his pack from his bed; the soft silk and pillows stuffed with goose down- he'd miss the comfort. "Father, I will need to speak with you before I leave." He added after taking several steps towards the door.

Rhoynar spoke of his charge, the item he had been paid to locate, his previous nights dream and the rumour he'd heard the noon before. They conversed in hushed tones until Illinfer appeared in their midst once again.
"Father, Illinfer Blacksmith." He added, feeling best to introduce the companion he'd already spoken about. He offered his hand to Tor, shaking it firmly as soon as their palms touched. "So long as my family are kept safe, I am willing to pay double the price you would usually request. No matter what befalls of this city, you must ensure they are kept from harm." He spoke, his voice once again cool and warped with authority.

Illinfer nodded and smiled as she was introduced. She had before shortly after training with Rhoynar uncle but apparently now it had meaning where as it hadn't earlier that day. Tor shook the knights hand briefly and nodded with earnest eyes. He smiled friendly. “There is no need for that. Since you will be with Ilinfer in the eyes of the guild you are her brother in arms for the duration of your travels and therefore the price will only be what needs to be covered in the event of . . . well, the event we all hope will not come.” He nodded to Ilinfer and then to Rhoynar. “I will get my men to come here this afternoon and introduce them to you. They are the ones who will come and get your family and take them away from here. Where to exactly I cannot say at this time. It depends on the situation and on the weather. But we will be prepared for every eventuality.”

As the conversation continued and the party moved to a room where everyone could sit Ilinfer stepped up behind Rhoynar and spoke in a quiet voice so only he would hear: “Sire. We needs be leaving for the harbour. I am sure everything will be settled without your presence needed.” Then she fell back a few steppe as not to crowd the man. The backpack felt weird as she wasn't used to it and she found herself rearranging the damn thing on her back every once in a while.

Somehow she felt irritated by Rhoynar. As she had spoked to him she had been close enough to take in the spices lingering on his skin. She had noticed his very foreign scent just a little while ago. Wiping the thoughts away by tucking a stray whisp of hair behind her ear she focused on Tor. He was a master in his profession and he would ensure the safety of Rhoynar family. They would be able to embark on their quest in the conscience that they had done all they could.

The crashing sound of waves against the rocky shoreline seemed to only emphasize the relief Rhoynar felt. He couldn't thank either party enough; knowing his closest family was safe pulled his spirits high. His gaze drifted to his companion as she stepped up to speak. He gave her a curt nod before turning to the two older men.

"Thank you, Tor, truly. Our ship leaves soon, so I'm afraid I must leave this with my father." He stepped aside to embrace the man he called father. They exchanged words in a tongue not native to Illium and parted ways. It would be a fair time before they arrived on the far shores of the Second East, it's sand shining white gold in the heat. The man began his route from the keep, maintaining gate with Illinfer.

The walk took them through the square courtyard, walls thick with vines and flowers, bustling with his families staff. Outside beyond the courtyard stood the rest of Astipor. Markets and traders, blacksmiths and courtesans, the hustle and scampering of hundreds of feet. He barely spoke until the two of them reached the harbor market.

"Wait here." He muttered, disappearing from sight for a moment. The air sat a strange mixture of freshly caught fish and the exotic spices from the East, mixing together into a picante musk. Traders shouted over the sounds of the crowd, over the crying of gulls, the breaking of waves. The shouts varied in language. Most appeared to the tongue of the nation they stood in now, but some showed signs of unfamiliarity to those who'd never set foot off their shores.

"Here." Rhoynar smiled, reappearing after only a brief few moments. He handed Illinfer a small fruit, bright orange in colour and no larger than her fist. Guiding them both towards their vessel, Rhoynar moved through the crowds until the sound of creaking wood danced before them. Tall sails waved in the wind, the dull ache of the wood felt strangely relaxing to the Knight.

They were greeted older gentlemen whose age was creeping upon him. His beard and hair plagued with the grey of maturity, slowly consuming the last signs of his youth. He smiled and waved the two of them aboard.

Illinfer followed Rhoynar out into the courtyard. They moved through the market of Astipor and Illinfer couldn‘t help but look around and catch glimpses of exotic fruits, spices and clothing. "Wait here." She heard the knight say and looked up to him. He vanished in the crowd. This gave the northern woman some time to take in her surroundings. The air was rich with foreign scents. Spices from beyond the sea filled her nostrils making her think of the gardens and arms around her . . . Shaking her head to get rid of the memory she turned just in time to see Rhoynar reappear. She was handed a small orange ball . . . and looked at it puzzled as to what she was supposed to do with it. There was little time to worry about it though. The ship would be leaving soon and they had to get to the port.

Ships came into sight and soon after the sea breeze hit her like a gust of wind. She could taste the salt in the air, smell the heavy scent of seaweed and fish. Seagulls called above them, darting down close to the waves just to return to the high skies. Fascinated the northern woman barely noticed her companion board the ship. As she realised it she hurried to his side. The fruit still in her hand she looked at the ship, over the battered but sturdy wood, wind beaten sails. Never before had she set foot upon a vessel a huge as this one. Pushing back her black hair she looked up the mast. Then the ground beneath her moved and she gripped the railing in a panic. Astipor was slowly drifting away as they picked up speed. Mesmerised she hadn‘t noticed the bustle aboard. Men ran around, opening sails, releasing the toes and pulling on ropes Illinfer could only guess the use of.

Her knuckles went white she was gripping the wood so hard, the bright fruit in her other hand, braced against her chest. She had not been prepared for the slight sway of waves. Leaning her hip against the railing she hoped to get a little more hold. Finally her eyes met Rhoynars. The northern warrior blushed slightly, averting her eyes to gaze upon the water rushing by. She held out the fruit to him. „Will you show me how to eat it?“ She didn‘t meet his gaze, too embarrassed about not feeling safe aboard the vessel. The wind played with her raven strands, making them dance across her cheeks. Steel blue eyes were lowered to deep waters of similar colour.

Rhoynar lent against the bow of the ship, absently scratching the wood beneath his fingers. The wing lashed against the sails, the cloth thundering in return. The ocean to the Second East, whilst long, was spectacular. For Illinfer to see the shimmering towers of Olas upon the horizon, glinting in greeting. The port capital of the Second East blinks its welcome to all sailors. Belfrys made from Dunastian gold glimmered with each flicker of sunlight. The sphere of Olas stood as a beacon to the western kingdoms; a man may call himself King if he has the possessions to sway the more prosperous.

The knight soon found himself chuckling at his companion. He plucked the fruit from her hands and revealed a small knife.
"Just peel the skin and eat. It will help with the sickness. I recommend avoiding the stones. We're a week from a healer." His words sounded in jest until a purple stone left his fingers into the ocean below. Rhoynar returned the small fruit to his companion, tucking into his own segment. The pulp glinted a deep red in comparison to Illinfer's paler skin. "They call it Rakt Phal, blood fruit. It's not as sinister as it sounds. There is a story my people tell of a mother and her son, he used to play tricks on her regularly. This boy went exploring a small oasis for water to drink when he stumbled on this fruit. He excitedly took a bite into the rind and saw the juice pour all over the grass- like blood. So he took several of them and covered himself in the nectar. He returned to his poor mother screaming in pain and she screamed murder as if her hapless son had been butchered. The town led a search for the mystery bandits until the healer found the oasis." A smile creased his cheeks. "At least that's the story my people tell. Everyone has their own version."

The final inch of port settled far behind them as the vessel reached open water. Waves grew taller but further between. Rhoynar only hoped for a clean journey yet the slowly increasing winds concerned him. The hum of the sailors failed to indicate his heaviest fears allowing him a further moment of calm.
"Tell me more about yourself, Illinfer. You've spent your journey learning about myself. I know very little about you." He lifted himself and stood beside her, his back to the ocean. His brown eyes trailed a smaller gentlemen as he scrambled along the rigging, a long rope within his mouth. He'd never previously cared for the undertakings of sailors, often confining himself to sleep or the view when sailing. The captain, standing proud, with his hands resting firmly on the railing. Beside him held a fellow with a stern brow, deep and thick, his skin darker than Rhoynar's. His arms stretched the fabric of his shirt and despite his intimidating presence, he laughed. It was a bearing that set a air of ease aboard the schooner; even more so as the captain made his way over, arms wide in greeting.

"Ja'kata." He cheered, slapping his hand on the shoulder of Rhoynar. "And hello to you." His accent sounded similar to Rhoynar's father's, rounded and alien. The knight returned the greeting and introduced Illinfer. The man grinned, a toothy smile beneath a twisted mustache, offering his palm in greeting.

The fruit was taken from her hand, replaced by the steady wind surrounding them. Illinfers grip on the railing tightened further, her nails biting into the wood as the ship moved in the waves. To distract herself from the moving horizon she settled her eyes on Rhoynars hands, watched as he peeled the fruit and listened to his story. A smile appeared on her face, soon replaced by the empty gaze of memory. It sounded so familiar, a boy tricking his parents into thinking something had happened when it was nothing more than a prank. She took the fruit from his hand, looking at the vibrant colour. The juice of the Rakt Phal stained her lips as she ate, giving her features a different look.

"Tell me more about yourself, Illinfer. You've spent your journey learning about myself. I know very little about you." A little surprised she took a step back, feeling the railing in her side. „That isn‘t true. You know the most important things about me. That I am in the fire guild and that I am a widow. Things not everybody knows . . . My life was moved. I lost my mother when I was still very young. I have a brother, but only Ardebit knows where he is now. He‘s always been one to wander.“ Her gaze drifted out towards the open water. She bit her lip. He had revealed a secret, the fear for his family. Was it now her turn to repay that trust? Would she dare tell him what was waiting for her upon her return? Her thoughts played in her features, the inner talk about the fine line between responsibility, loyalty and trust.

With her back turned towards the happenings upon the vessel she didn‘t see the man approach. „There is one thing I might . . . „ The foreign words made her jolt and spin around, hand upon the hilt of her sword. She quickly loosened up and smiled at the new arrival, likewise extending her hand in greeting. Had Rhoynar heard her? She didn‘t know if she could muster the courage to speak about her home later on, unprompted.
The captain and Rhoynar exchanged a flow of words she didn‘t understand before changing back to the traders tongue. The northern woman answered the questions towards her politely but without giving away any real information. When she could finally retreat from the discussion politely she did, turning her attention to the ocean. She got pulled into the view of the water rushing by.

At some point she felt someone leaning against the railing next to her. She looked up to find Rhoynar and smiled shyly, her lips still red from the fruit he had given her. „I had no idea the ocean was so huge!“ Illinfer had relaxed a little, her mind distracted from the moving floor and engaged with fairy tales, legends and the journey ahead. „Have you been to the Second East often? How is it? Tell me.“

The bearded captain shook Illinfer's hand excitedly, greeting her again in the strained version of the trading language he knew. Rhoynar swapped the language back to the common tongue of the trading ports beyond the Second East and engaged the man in a discreet conversation for a moment. The Captain was a burly fellow with strong arms and a heavy beard. Its end reached the middle of his chest with two thick braids following its entire length. The words between the two of them were spoken quickly, with urgency. One word 'vaskah' was repeated. After a moment, the Captain clapped the young man on the shoulder and the pair exchanged a clear expression of gratitude.

Rhoynar returned to the railing of the ship and stared out at the vista of blue beyond.
"I have not been there for a few years, three summers. Little will have changed. King's will have fallen, cities will have changed lords but the world will remain the same. Have you ever seen a desert? Imagine crystal yellow sand as far as the eye can see, rolling hills of nothing but sand, with no distinguishable landmarks. Imagine walking for days with no signs of life except the carrion birds flying above." His hands gestured across the horizon, displaying widely the world he'd grown up in. With a small smile, he turned his attention to the cities.

"Now imagine a bustling city, busier than anything you've seen. Far busier than Astipor or even Eleusis. Buildings tall and towering, lined with gold. Trees tall and green, but not like here. Their leaves don't fall, they have no need. The green never leaves the Second East. The market will be larger with more strange fruits and spices." He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands. His expression no longer signified anything of joy for his home land.

"They call my home a place of savages. Whilst the people of the Second East are not as such, there are people who could easily be deemed as such. It is not uncommon to have a slave or in fact numbers of them. The rich families are prosperous and they have little dignity to hide it. People abroad are not like in Astipor. My city is free, beyond this ocean things are more complicated. I do not say this to worry you, I wish for you to be safe. Our journey will take us through Meerai and onwards beyond the trading cities. Cities beyond the Assihan Desert are less inclined to the beliefs of the country you call home. Remain calm and things will be such."

The rumors of unrest and insurrection stretching beyond the slaving cities played heavily on his mind. They're journey could easily have diverted because of such trouble. The tight schedule they progressed could not allow for any commotion.

A slight smile played on her lips while she listened to Rhoynar. Then he suddenly stopped and for a brief moment Illinfer wanted to lean in a little closer to make sure she caught the words spoken next. The mood had changed so drastically that she felt her heart sink, her stomach clenching. She should remain calm and all would be well? The northern woman quickly bit her lip and looked out to the ocean, stifling a chuckle. Those were the words of the same man who a night before had almost killed a man who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. No, she wasn’t like that. Emotional sometimes, yes, but who could blame her.

Illinfer turned back towards Rhoynar, smiling gently. „I am sure, with your guidance, we won’t run into too much trouble.“ She paused for a moment, regarding his features. Something was bothering him. She could tell by the slicht furrow in his brows. Not daring to ask she closed her eyes and leant back against the railing. Her head tilted backward, exposing her pale neck with the bruises of the past nights fight. The wind caught her raven hair and made it dance in the sunlight. It was peaceful here and she would be damned if she didn’t enjoy it!

The day passed swiftly, the winds were with them and the sun had shone down mercilessly. Evening approached as Illinfer sat down on deck, rubbing her lips with the paste she had been given. Never would she have imagined feeling so dry and thirsty aboard a ship surrounded by nothing but water. Dinner would be ready soon. From what she gathered it would consist of bread and fish jerky. The latter she didn’t favour too much, but she knew she needed to eat to keep her strength. After all, they were just at the beginning of their journey.

She looked up as she heard Rhoynars voice. Had he settled where they were going to sleep? The captain had said something of the deck, which wasn’t a very comfortable place to sleep. Rhoynar had volunteered to clear things up and get them hammocks under deck.

Rhoynar smirked gently at his companion's comment.
"So long as we are able to steer clear of any politics, I'm sure we will remain out of trouble. Across the deserts, any man can call himself King, if his pockets are full enough with gold." From the Western ports to the rolling nomad tribes, and further across the Asshian Desert, the concept of Royalty lacked, instead trade ruled entirely.

The man spent the remainder of the daylight hours speaking with Illinfer about the alien world she would be soon to meet. He settled soon as the weariness of travel set into his head. Swiftly, he departed Illinfer's side and sought the Captain of the Vessel. The man was easily found standing aboard the larger stern of the merchant ship. The ocean spray had already set into his beard, the ends beginning to frizz of their own accord.

"Should the seas remain calm?" He asked in a language native to the Second East. It wasn't to alienate his companion. Rhoynar had no intention, yet previously exchanged information left him tense. The bearded Captain responded with a hearty nod and a smile. "That's good to know. My friend and I also wanted to ask regarding sleeping quarters, I understand there isn't much space-"

"I can spare a few beds, if you're willing to wait until the midnight deck change their shifts." The seaman added, clapping a meaty hand on Rhoynar's shoulder once again. There was an exchange of expressions before the tone dropped and both men walked quietly down onto the lower desks and to the privacy of the bow.
"The city of Alssahra fell not two moons past. The Slaves slit their masters throats in their masters throats in the night. Vaskah has spread from the Desert Cities through to Meerai and Olas. The streets are not safe. Trade what you need then leave." The crackling of the Eastern Trade Language bounced against the waves, echoing off the wood of the ship, despite their hushed tones.

Before too long, Rhoynar smiled and returned to Illinfer's side. He handed her a small cup of mead and yawned towards the cloudless sky.

With a smile she took the cup from him and brought it to her lips. The sweet mead burned on her injured lip and made her flinch ever so slightly. But by Ardebit - this was just what she had needed! After her generous sip she handed the cup back to Rhoynar. They sat in silence, passing the cup between them until the last drop was emptied. Miraculously the cup was filled - by a passing sailor or Rhoynar stood up to refill the cup.
The sun set, colouring the sea into a deep dark orange before sinking into the waves and vanishing from sight. The moons came up as the sky turned dark and stars appeared in the evening sky. Illinfer leaned back, a sad smile on her lips. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, thought of home, the forest, the rolling hills, the snow peaked mountains - and her son. She had left him with his grandparents in a small village, not known to many. A tear rolled down her cheek as her smile widened. In her mind her son was playing in the fields his father used to play in as a child. He was wearing his fathers helmet, swinging a stick and shouting ‘Halt! In the name of the fire guild!’. Feeling the dizziness of the drink she opened her eyes and looked up at the dark night sky. Clouds hung over it like soft translucent cloth. „It’s so peaceful out here.“ She almost whispered, the wind tickling over her neck and playing with her raven hair.

Illinfer turned to Rhoynar, looking him straight in the eye. Her body was stretched across the floor, her ankles crossed, her upper body propped on one elbow. The ark of her neck as she angled her head towards him almost glowed of her pale skin, the dark mark of her brawl the previous day still visible, like a shadow wrapping his hand around her throat. „Do you have any regrets? In life so far? I mean . . . we might not be coming back. Are you . . . are you content?“ Her eyes grew a little bigger as the words left her lips. „I sure do! I have a lot of regrets - but only one thing I would change . . .“ her voice trailed off as did her gaze, wondering off into the distance. She couldn’t leave her son without a parent! If only she had been the one to go to the mission her husband had died in. Her son would still have a father - someone much stronger than herself.

Perhaps it was the warmth of the mead, sweet with honey and pungent with spices that brought back the memories of a childhood among the rolling sands of his home. The hints of golden peppercorn, twisted of ground nutmeg and the strands of the kla ul from beyond the Red Sea. Whilst the vast ocean beneath them stretched far past what the eye could truly see, the expense of the Second East and what lay behind the great expanse of the Dead Waste was barely comprehensible; their journey would trail through such landmarks before trailing them to the Glass Mountains.

With a content sigh, Rhoynar gathered his attention from the lamentations of his home and towards the companion he'd been provided for such a trek. He would return to this day in his memories and perhaps curse the loose words leaving his lips, yet the inhibited caution failed to stop him.

"Of everything, I regret what happened to my brother most." His complacent and tranquil expression had altered into something melancholic as his eyes, still lingering on Illinfer's own, stared beyond into a memory. "Yet we cannot change the past, not out of a story or a child's dream." Rhoynar's voice rang with the foreign roll of his accent, ever more present considering the alcohol within his veins. "If we are to die in the great Waste, I think I would not be content. I wish not to lose my life over another man's search for objects beyond my own wealth. I would fight for another's safety and lose my life protecting them, but I choose not to do so over an object of little value to myself or those I consider family." He lifted the wooden cup to his lips once more and offered it back to his friend once again.

"You must tell me what you think of the Second East. I expect things to be beyond what you can even imagine. Our cities are far larger than those of Illium, stretching for miles. No grey skies and a sun hotter than even the most intense summer." The excitement in his voice cracked like the twist of his Alssahrain accent and birth. "I shall have to teach you to speak like us, otherwise you'll be lost." He added a comment in his native tongue with a smirk so out of character it signalled just how quickly the mead had reached his head. "You will see things far beyond your dreams. Jhun'k'ai is alien compared to your home."

They talked well into the night, the wine loosening their tongues. When they fell asleep it was close to each other, lulled by the drowsiness of alcohol. The days past in a blur as they settled into a strange routine: discussing customs and language lessons over a small breakfast, sparring and exchanging different fighting styles after and long personal conversations in the evenings. One evening a few crewmen joined them in merriment. At the end of that night Illinfer hand danced the dance of swords, impressing the crewmen and captain with her controlled and swift movements. Then they all sang drunkenly, teaching each other different songs. Although Illinfer felt right at home with the crew they still kept wary of Rhoynar. His noble status discouraged some from challenging him the way they did the warrior. She however had other plans and made him dance with her - well, swaying with her, laughing, as it was well into the night.

A few days later they reached Juhad. The climate had gotten warmer, making them change into more appropriate clothing, preparing to leave the ship. Illinfer stood at deck, Rhoynar beside her, both staring at the huge city coming into view. As it grew closer the soft sounds of the sea were replaced with bustling liveliness and yelling. Around them the crew bustled past. Soon they said their goodbyes and left the ship to step foot into the next chapter of their journey.

---

Illinfer stood on the pier, looking at the strange mass of people milling about. They men wore some sort of short dress, reaching to the middle of their thighs with open shoes that left their toes poking out. The women wore draped fabric, wrapping around their bodies in different manners. Awestruck the warrior stood there until Rhoynar nudged her shoulder with his and motioned her to follow. Overwhelmed by the spice filled air, the strange sounds of a foreign language surrounding her and the unfamiliar buildings she soon found herself unable to move. When he noticed the noble doubled back with a soft curse and pulled at the northern woman, grabbing her arm in an iron grip to pull her along.
He led them to a tavern just by the market, weaving in and out of the crowd. Finally he shepherded Illinfer into the small room he‘d booked for them in passing. She came from her stupor when she was pushed onto a bed. He‘d said something, hadn‘t he? „Sire.... I do not understand.“ But before she could ask any further questions he had left the room. Was he mumbling about food? Irritated, she pulled off her shoes and leaned back against the wall, legs tucked close to her body. The bed wasn‘t big so she almost occupied the entire space of it. Her thoughts drifted to their mission. A lot had happened this past week. She thought back on it.

She‘d been summoned by the guild to an audience with Lord Ilyn Grey, a council member to the King of Illium. She was to protect Rhoynar and help him retrieve a scroll of some importance to the crown. They‘d left the capital that day, happening upon an old friend of hers who woke unsettling memories. On their journey they had witnessed the Jakathra Plague, keeping a wide berth from those infected. It had made her spine crawl, thinking it was so close to the capital. They had then arrived in Astipor, at her travel companion's manor of all places. She‘d snuck out of the manor to make preparations - protection for Rhoynars family. He‘d been so afraid! And didn‘t she understand. The bargain she‘d struck could damage her reputation, but she hadn‘t cared and still didn‘t. The next day she was introduced to the people she had made those arrangements for. They were kind and knowledgeable. As thanks for her help Rhoynar had embraced her. He‘d been too close! It still made her feel uncomfortable and sent a shiver down her spine. She could still feel his fingertips lingering on her neck. Lifting her hand to her neck now, the bruises had turned a yellow and dark purple, slowly healing. Why had he touched her so intimately? Or was it perhaps just from a knight to a wounded warrior? It hadn‘t felt that way. But perhaps that had been her imagination. On their boat trip they were close throughout the days and he‘d never invaded her personal space as he had that day.
Had so much really happened in so little time? They‘d known each other for a week! It felt longer, thanks to the long conversations they‘d had on board. Thankfully he‘d taught her a few customs and some basic language. She had understood a few snippets of conversations in passing but had been too shocked and overwhelmed to actually piece anything together.

Now that she thought about it she felt a lot calmer. Nonetheless she moved with lighting speed and had her sword half drawn when the door swung open and Rhoynar appeared. With a huff she sheathed her sword. „You frighten me, sire.“ She mumbled, breathing deeply to quiet her heart. It would take a bit for her to get used to being so far from home.

The air had steadily begun to warm during their journey, shifting from the temperate weather of Illium to the sticky heat that clouded the coastal cities and towns of Jhun'k'ai. The nature of the heat would likely change the further East they travelled on their journey, shifting into and a parched and arid heat, pulled water from skin as the world slowly shifted into a desert that felt entirely endless. A place where the heat saw no pause between day and night, scorching the world on all sides. Should their journey lead them into the Dead Waste, they would need more than a guide.

As the week long travelled finally ceased and the duo were given the ability to stand on solid ground, the rich hive of Juhad erupted before them. Whilst its streets were not alien to the elder of the pair, the time between his last arrival on its shores had felt too long. The smell of life within the city hung in the air like perfume, bringing with it the memories of a childhood on the eastern shores. Reminding an aging man of a youth spent abroad where the secret political games of the Western kings was no concern, and the hidden rules at play in the desert seemed simpler. It wasn't the petty sport of the ruling class that mattered in their current journey, though it was the source of their travel.

Rhoynar guided Illinfer by the arm from the dock and onto the crowded streets that exploded into the markets of the vast city. The city of Juhad opened to its naval guests with a vast courtyard of vendors, exploding with the expansive and vibrant spectrum of silks, cloths and rugs, often variegated in design and colour. The selection stood out in high contrast to the bleached walls of the buildings surrounding, each of them brilliant white as it reflected the sun that lingered almost directly overhead, baring down on the city which paid it little mind under their creatively created shelters within the market. The man continued to hurry through the markets, stepping between the crowd underneath the cloth roofs that decorated the streets. Its design forced the heavy perfumes and spices to linger, catching on the clothing and skin of those who travelled though. It was heavy on the head, lasting in the nostrils as the pair escaped the restless and spirited agora as travellers and residents alike haggled with vendors for their goods.

The clamour of the new world had seemed only larger than the furor that had developed within Astipor: a newly formed sanctuary for many that could afford the travel aboard ships from Juhad or Olas. In the former, the world felt more alive than before. Here was a world were the Western tongue was no longer common, but a language spoken by sailors alone. The Second East was a portal to more languages than knowable, though so many spoke a prevalent dialect, that danced along the air between the citizens across the city and deserts beyond. To hear ones mother tongue spoken so freely had felt comforting, adding to the distant memories of childhood yet the knowledge he had of the ancient world they were standing upon added an anxious fear. Time passed differently in Jhun'k'ai, it always had. Self-made kings and empires fell overnight as the power-hungry continued to squabble and fight for the riches they felt rightful to; his father had been right in choosing conquest in the West, where the games of the powerful travelled slowly.

They soon settled into an inn, taking rest in the shade to allow Illinfer the moment to recapture her senses. He gave her leave to rest for a few moments whilst collecting food and drink, opting to choose food closer to her palate than might be provided the further they travelled from their home. Shouldering the door open, he was soon greeted with his partner's panicked uneasiness.

"Here," Rhoynar offered as he placed a tray onto the table between them and sat onto the cushion lounge opposite. "You'll have already noticed the heat, you'll need to drink." He soon unsheathed his sword and set it by his side and relaxed in silence, taking in the natural chill of the shade the inn provided. It wasn't perfect, but it certainly helped. After a few moments, he spoke again, offering Illinfer a suggestion of their first potential direction in their quest.

"We should check the temple first, the monks there collect knowledge from far places most have never heard of. I've never seen their library but it is said to be stretching far into the sky, with walls of tomes that pass back in time beyond the Gods we know. If anyone is to know where we might find what Grey was asking of us, its them." He paused to take a sip of the fruit wine he had purchased for them. "I don't know if you saw as we made port: the large temple on the hill." It had stood far from the ocean's edge, standing high on a hill with a forest of trees surrounding its walls from whatever may have chosen to threaten it. Its walls, whilst far from sight, had been tall columns, stretching high above the citizens that passed towards its doors.

"We should head there once you're comfortable. I can understand this place is... Different." Rhoynar laughed. "I had the same reaction of your country when I first arrived. The culture is different, bland in comparison."

Laying her sword aside, Illinfer watched her companion. "You'll have already noticed the heat, you'll need to drink." Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the fruit wine he had brought and poured it into two shallow clay cups. She drank in small sips, letting her gaze wander to the food he had brought. Although a lot looked unfamiliar the smells were appealing. Slowly she started to pick small bites from every dish, tasting them curiously. At first the spices overpowered her senses, followed by a hesitant acceptance and finally joy. With a bit of time she thought she could get used to it.

When Rhoynar spoke again she startled. She‘d forgotten his presence, entirely entranced in her curiosity and culinary experience. With wide eyes she looked at him, slowly chewing on a green fruit coated in oil that tasted salty and slightly bitter.

"We should check the temple first, the monks there collect knowledge from far places most have never heard of. I've never seen their library but it is said to be stretching far into the sky, with walls of tomes that pass back in time beyond the Gods we know. If anyone is to know where we might find what Grey was asking of us, it's them." As he spoke her eyes were fixed on him. Having him close calmed her somewhat. She would never have imagined a journey into a foreign land would rattle her into such a frightened state. Indeed, she had seen the temple, looming, marvellous and imposing. Lost in thought she tilted her head slightly, eyes unfocused. Would she be deemed worthy to enter those halls? She‘d also noticed quite a difference between the clothes given to her by the guild and the garb those here seemed to favour. They should get the proper attire before trying to set foot into a holy place.

Illinfer barely heard the next words he spoke, but his laugh captured her, bringing her full attention back to the man in front of her. Instinct made her reach for him and grasp his wrist tightly. On the ship this had not felt real. It had not felt like the big change it was. She‘d been on ships before, even on the open sea. Never had she felt this uncertain, this lost. Not since her husband had died. The prick of loss and sadness came suddenly and threatened to overwhelm her. He‘d spoken of adventures like these, her Jurlath. Her grip grew tighter around Rhoynars wrist. „Forgive me....“ She whispered, her breath shallow as she was trying to gather herself, to not break down here in the strange place so far away from home and in the company of one she‘d sword to protect. A shudder went through her body as she quietly gasped, her lungs constricted. „... forgive... me...“ Illinfer slumped over the table, her hair spilling over her shoulders and hiding her expression, her breathing growing more laboured as the panic grew. Tears started to well in her eyes.

This was not happening. Not now. She wasn‘t alone, she couldn‘t afford this right now! Why?!

All the while the warrior was trying to gather her senses, her iron grip on Rhyonar did not loosen even when her body started to tremble.

The mixture of the overwhelming perfume of incense, the sweetness of the wine, and variety of culinary delights felt surreal. He'd not travelled across the ocean in so long, yet despite its similarity to his home and the culture they had brought with them, the strong mixture of all aspects on all sides felt like a long forgotten memory just remembered. The smell reminded him of his youth as his parents travelled across the Second East, a time before they encountered the strange and rigid culture of the nation they called home now. A place that was not just cold in climate but cold and unforgiving, as if all had no desire beyond the walls of their community. Here, the world felt alive; at least to Rhoynar.

He was giving his suggestion for their next move, ripping apart a small clustered selection of leaves entangled with dough when Illinfer suddenly grabbed onto his wrist. Whilst he wasn't opposed to the contact, her unexplained and oddly unnatural behaviour startled him. Perhaps it was obvious on his face, he considered and worried so as her expression seemed to shift into something of worry and panic. She slumped over the table, muttering to herself yet despite it all her hand never seemed to cease its grip, squeezing tightly like a snake.

"Illinfer..." He questioned quietly, gently pulling his arm in the hope she may release and allow the blood to flow freely again. It was the faint struggling of her breath that changed his course of action as he noted how laboured she appeared to be becoming. Rhoynar had noted to sign of illness during their travel over the ocean and after such time online, it seemed a strange time for nausea to take hold. "Is everything alright?" He questioned hesitantly, shuffling forwards in his seat.

"You're going to faint if you don't breath, you need to take a deep breath, slowly before you collapse." Perhaps had he known exactly what his companion was suffering, he may have understood the precise nature of the help she required. Instead, he remained uncertain, knowing no little more than the risk of her falling unconscious. Of course, he wasn't entirely unfamiliar considering the vivid nature of his recent nightmares though he failed to realise that.

Rhoynar eased himself from his seat and reached for Illinfer's other hand. Once in reach, he tried to pull her hand towards the air, as if to encourage her to look towards him.
"You need to breath right now, or tell me precisely what's going on. Just try to focus on what I'm saying, and slow down. Everything's going to be fine. It may seem strange here but the medicine is no different, if you do need a Doctor, it will be alright. Just try to slow your breathing down." He let her hand drop and raised her cup. "Here, drink instead, just a little at a time."

His unconscious thoughts considered strange and wild theories as to her sudden breakdown. Untamed paranoia grasped at poison, allergies, or even the first signs of a devastating illness. Yet, they had drunk from the same unsealed bottle: poison wasn't an option. They had shared company during the journey and he shared none of her visible symptoms.
"I don't understand, its just wine..." He murmured as he briefly glanced back at the bottle, his hand still cradling the her cup.

"Illinfer..." His voice drew her in while her breath hitched. It was getting harder to breathe and she was starting to feel lightheaded. Rhoynar drew his arm away. Was she bothering him? She cursed herself. Being this useless in such a situation! How could she fail to this degree? What would Jurlath have said to this? Surely he'd have been disappointed and shocked. He'd never seen his wife like this. Of course not! With him at her side she would never have faltered!

"Is everything alright?" The voice called her, pulling her in, making her lean towards it a bit more. "You're going to faint if you don't breath, you need to take a deep breath, slowly before you collapse." She was feeling lightheaded. The warrior started quivering, her grip on her companions arm weakening as she tried to concentrate on her breathing, her lungs straining as she could only draw quick shallow breaths. Her thoughts kept spiraling and she was unable to concentrate on Rhoynar for long. As he took her hand she was startled and actually amanged to look up at him . . . through him. Tears now welled in her eyes, threatening to overflow. Her gaze was distant. She felt distant, caught in her own mind.

"You need to breath right now, or tell me precisely what's going on. Just try to focus on what I'm saying, and slow down. Everything's going to be fine. It may seem strange here but the medicine is no different, if you do need a Doctor, it will be alright. Just try to slow your breathing down." Grounding. His words, his voice, was pulling her back. Something about the soft rumble and articulation spoke to her and drew her pack from her panic enough to draw a slightly deeper breath. Illinfer couldn't focus quite yet, but her laboured breathing eased the tiniest bit, allowing her eyes to focus on Rhoynar. His lips, the movement of them as he spoke drew her gaze. "Here, drink instead, just a little at a time."

With a slight jerky shake of her head Illinfer declined the drink she was offered. "I don't understand, its just wine..." Another slightly deeper breath, clearing her head just enough to try and attempt a verbal reply. Her voice was shaky and faint as she spoke. "Not ill. . . . Jurlath" Had she mentioned the name of her dead husband to her travel companion on the ship? Was that even important now? After having spoken those little words it felt a bit easier to continue. "We wanted . . . . . Wanted to come here together . . . someday . . ." She trailed off as her breath hitched again. The pain, the realization, the loss flooding her very being. The tears she had been fighting against now freely ran over her face. She barely noticed. The hurt was starting to change to numbness. "I miss him . . ." Her voice was barely a whisper.

It was then that she realized she couldn't come back from this right now. She hadn't had much time to grieve with her responsibilities crowding her days and challenging her every single day. Now that she was so far from all that she knew her grief came crashing down, drowning her in a tidewave of emotions. She'd never have thought she'd be so still, so paralyzed. She'd always thought of herself as more of the explosive type to burst out in rage and hurt and destruction. Instead she was here, trembling, hyperventilating and clinging to the only known thing close to her. A travel companion she was only starting to get to know better and who she had sword to protect.

Finally loosening her grip enough that her touch was only a slight wait on Rhyonars' wrist she lifter her gaze to his eyes. When had they moved so close to eachother. "I'm sorry . . ." Her breath was still laboured but she seemed to be calming down - or rather starting to become numb, her head spinning as dark spots clouded her vision. "Please forgive me!" A whispered plea. She managed to hold on to consciousness, focussing on her travel companion. Would he abandon her? She wouldn't even blame him. In this state she was a liability.

The interaction was difficult to watch, his companion visibly struggling to breathe as if her throat had been closing more by the moment. Rhoynar felt he had tried everything bar running out into the street and yelling for a doctor. All seemed to be failing until Illinfer finally found the words in her voice. He listened to broken words and strained sentences until her reasoning became clear. The reality of her grief seemed obvious now, as it seemed to cascade over the edge and through spillways that had clearly been tightened closed until this moment. Perhaps she needed this? This gentle break from an internal conflict, one she'd hidden so well.

Rhoynar chose to remain silent during her emotional outpour, uncertain of the best course of action. There was no comfort between the vague friends they may have been, not beyond what may have been acceptable by culture. Her grip loosened on his wrist, allowing the blood to rush into the patches of skin that loosened in colour. Raising a hand, he placed them both on her now free hand as she spoke, seeking out an apology as if she had been in the wrong only moments before.

"Forgive you? What do you need to seek forgiveness for?" The gentle tone remained in his voice as he spoke, as he hoped it might continue in bringing his companion back to the fold. "Illinfer, there's no weakness in grief, if that's what you're experiencing. Grief is an unfortunate part of our lives. Its the one thing that binds us all. From the mainland to islands beyond the Sun and the horizon." Was this sorrow a weakness in Illium? A place where strength held a far higher importance than passion? It had felt so different in Astipor, a city of varying culture and delight, foreign from the rest of the country.

Yet, Rhoynar would have been a fool considering such a notion wasn't custom in the dust of the Second East. Cities of passion and fortune on the surface, yet each floated on a sickening pool of politics and deceit, where all that mattered was strength, in all its definitions. One's power in gold, not just by the sword or words, held far more importance than the zeal for life.

"I'm not forgiving you for something you haven't done wrong." He paused, as his mouth focused on the brief pronunciation of who she had muttered. "Jurlath? Perhaps you can honour him at a temple before we leave. In that way, he had be here too." He gently squeezed her hand and let go. "There are more than a few here that by remembering the pain of grief keeps those we miss alive." There was a heavy sigh as he turned to look out of the small window by their heavily decorated corner of the tavern.

"I don't think any less of you, I'm sure you'll be a competent fighter when the time comes." There was a smile in his words, though his expression still read that of concern. Illinfer was a shadow of herself, a husk as the inner world swirled and span in a place he could not see. "Take your time, we'll head out when you've caught your breath."