A day like any other rises over the lands of Lemea, the sun first dawning in the isolated Ayya and spread out Karans, then rising over the islands of Yana, the green Ligura, the deep Black Forest and Orclands until the morning Sun rays reachedSear and Kaymari.

Kaymari, this most distant of all lands under the crown and specter of Alagora, is famous for two things, the mines of Covania and as the place from which most people begun the journey towards Ayya and the mythical Well of Wishes. But to most of its citizens this was a spring day as ordinary as any other and everyday jobs were more to their concerns than anything else. Bakeries, which started baking bread when it was still dark, now opened the doors so people could get their bread, shops of many kinds begun working, preachers of religion and philosophy took the squares and begun their speeches, the night shift of the town guards was replaced with the day shift, doctors opened their doors to those in need of their services, merchants & peddlers begun a busy day at the marketplace, in all parts of the province of Kaymari the daily life begun. But this was Kaymari, the land which leads to the Well of Wishes and a day would be nothing without the dozens of adventurers pouring out of ships coming from Orientar or Ainyas.

Kaymari was not the only place where daily life went on with only a few notable events.
In Sear the elves begun their morning meditation; in the Orclands one tribe was preparing to hold a feast after an extremely successful hunting; deep in the western parts of the Ligura forest the Drider Queen and her subjects were preparing to fall asleep, they were creatures of the night; in a small settlement of witches in the Black Forest an explosion cloud be hear, someone made a mistake while mixing a magic potion again; on the many islands of Yana the nation was informed that during the night, from old age and after ruling the Empire for 52 years, Emperor Kazuma died leaving the Empire in the hands of his oldest son Yataru; in Karans one of the pirates, from one of the smaller Everan countries, was still celebrating the capture of an Alagorian ship full of gold, this begun yesterday afternoon and promised that it would go on for at least few more hours; finally Ayya hold its breath, a state which was going on for weeks, due to the sickness of their King Lervan, whose only son was exiled years ago after plotting to kill his father, making the whole country fear a civil war amongst all the sons of Leveran's brothers and sisters.

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Port Town of Arunin, Docks

With Immes, in his short sword form, safely tucked in a sheet and with a smile on her face, mostly due to finally getting off the ship which brought her trough the stormy seas of early spring, Aerrea h's Fargur with all her earthly possessions on her, stepped on the dock at which the ship with which she came here, the "Lavvarian Swallow", moored itself to. Naikawa, so only Aerrea cloud here him whispered: "So here we are. I always wished to visit this place once I heard the tales about it. Strangely it looks like any other port I passed trough." Aerrea, ignoring the comment made by the demon which made most of her clothing, decided to head to the nearest tavern and look for an adventurer or two to travel together with, at least until reaching Ayya. Without any particular rush Aerrrea made her way to one of the nearby taverns that Naikawa, knowing that from who knows which sources, told her that was a commonly frequented by adventurers looking to form groups before heading towards the wilder regions of Lemea. Her feet, as she made her way into the city, joined those of merchants, citizens and other which had some business in the general are of the docks of Arunin...

This cell, the place he had called home for the past thirteen months, was dark and dirty as always when he awoke. Zinzie lifted his head to see that, unfortunately, it was still not just a very bad dream. The floor of the cell was nothing more than a pit of mud, not even fit for pigs to wallow. The cold water that was dumped on him about once a week as his 'bath' had mixed with the dirt floor to create an unholy concoction of wet earth. In the darkness, it never dried. Zinzie usually found himself covered in it.

After finding the strength to pull himself up off the squishy ground, he staggered over to the one place that kept him sane. On the outside wall of his cell, there was a small, barred window. If he stood on his tiptoes, he could see out into the forest that surrounded his isolated prison. The window was about ground level, allowing him to, if he became desperate enough, snatch up insects that wandered too close to eat. There was a juicy, plump cricket sitting just outside of his reach. Zinzie watched it as it crawled away, back into the forest. The sunshine looked beautiful this morning. The birds could be heard singing. He wished more than anything to be enjoying this morning with his family; he friends. He let out a soft sigh and began to sing again. Singing always seemed to help.

"I'm so far from where I'm from
I don't know where I've gone
Lord, I'm five hundred miles away from home

Away from home, away from home
Away from home, away from home
Lord, I'm five hundred miles away from home

Not a shirt on my back
Not a penny to my name
Lord I can't go back home this a-way

This a-way, this a-way
This a-way, this a-way
Lord I can't go back home this a-way

Lord I'm one, lord I'm two
Lord I'm three, lord I'm four
Lord I'm five hundred mile away from home

Away from home, away from home
Away from home, away from home
Lord I'm five hundred mile away from home

Don't have much longer left
Even if I go in death
Lord, I'm a-going home, someday.

Someday, someday
Someday, someday
Lord, I'm a-going home, someday..."

He grasped the bars of the window and used them to hold himself up. Zinzie believed he had counted two days since the guards last gave him food. His legs were beginning to shake underneath him, but he didn't want to sit back down in the mud. He rested his chin on the edge of the window and looked out. Suddenly, a bird landed just a foot away. Zinzie jumped, but managed to hold in his yelp. The bird had a nut in it's beak, which it began to repeatedly strike against a rock in the dirt. Zinzie watched with fascination, until his more primitive side took over.

He let out a shout, scaring away the bird, and snatched up the little acorn. The shell was already half busted, letting him open up the rest and devour the nut inside. It wasn't much, but it might keep him alive. He then leaned his back against the wall and looked down at the broken pieces of shell. What now? He was still hungry. Perhaps he should have grabbed the bird instead...Then an idea struck.

Zinzie made his wobbly way over to the barred door of his cell and stuffed the nut shell into the latch. He hoped that, if and when they ever opened the door to give him food, the door wouldn't catch the lock. It would be a while before he could test his wackjob theory, however. Hours went by with not so much as a peep out of thieves that lived in the base. Then, finally, the door at the top of the dungeon stairs opened. Zinzie, out of habit, pressed against the back wall. It could be a guard with food, or it could be a guard who's had a bad day and was wishing to take it out on him. However, the form of one of the smaller men appeared, a piece of moldy bread in his hands. He muttered something under his breath as he opened the door and tossed the bread inside. It landed in the mud with a wet 'plop', and then the door was closed behind him as the guard went back up the stairs. He didn't even bother to check if it had caught.

Zinzie made a dive for the bread and ate it down in seconds. There had been a time when he turned his nose up at the rotten food they gave him, but now he'd eat just about anything. When he was done, he looked up at the door with wide eyes. Could it be? He was almost scared to look. Slowly, he got up and crept towards the cell door, then gave it a light push. It didn't budge. He scowled and shoved it. The door creaked open, making Zinzie jump back. What if they heard it? The possibility was ridiculous at best, but to a man who spent the last year in a dark, muddy hole, it was terrifying.

Slowly, he crept out. As he left the cell, his bare feet touched solid ground for the first time in a long time. He didn't see any other way out of the dungeon than the one offered: the door. He barely had the strength to fight his way out if needed; hell, he barely had the strength to waltz out without a hitch. Zinzie slunk to the top of the stairs and took the door handle. He paused, gave a short prayer to whatever god was watching, and pushed the door open just a crack. He didn't hear any voices. Perhaps they had all gone to rob. He pushed the door a little more and poked his head out. By some miracle, the coast was clear. The base wasn't large. It was mostly three rooms, and the one before him was empty. Zinzie wasted no time as he snuck out and slithered towards the door. He couldn't believe it; all that time and escape was so easy. It seemed that he had tried anything and everything. Everything but placing a nutshell in the latch.

As the front door creaked open, Zinzie somehow found the strength inside of him to run. He ran even though his entire body hurt. He ran with the fear of being caught and locked up again. He gritted his teeth and kept up his pace even as his lungs caught on fire. The forest underbrush tore and cut at his body, but after what he'd been through, it was mere child's play. The only clothes he wore, his tattered pants, were already torn halfway to pieces. His skin, which clung tightly to his bones, was just as tattered. His body was covered in a rainbow of bruises. Large cuts and open wounds were an angry red with infection. His back bore scars that only a cruel whip could leave behind. With one black eye and a swollen lip, he looked like hell itself. His hair was long, the lively curls all but flat. Mud caked itself in it, as it did everywhere on his body.

By the time he reached civilization, Zinzie couldn't run any further. As he slowed, he found himself dizzy and exhausted. He staggered out of the woods and onto the cobblestone street. There were people. Real, live, actual, non-threatening people! Zinzie called out to them for help, but most gave him one look and hurried off. None of them wanted to be bothered by a half naked man covered in mud.
"Please help me," Zinzie cried. "Somebody, please." His legs gave out on him, bringing him to his knees. He felt utter distraught. He made it so far, only for the cruel social status that was 'look out for number one' to doom him. He crumbled on the street, no more strength and out of hope. People on their way to run errands just walked around him, looking down at him as if he were a rat that had crawled from the sewer.

(The tune of Zinzie's song is Five Hundred Miles. You can look it up if you're curious enough :p )

Damian wanted to bask in the silence. Either Morgan was asleep or quietly waiting for Damian to lower his guard, though he suspects the former during his time with the annoyance. She would have commented on everything around her until Damian would not be able to endure her rambling. In better times he would be sitting next to an open fire reading various tomes of magical lore or whatever book he had on hand, but he was not at home right now. No, he was in the port city of Arunin, in the nation of Kaymari. It was here that he needed to begin his journey into finding the Well of Wishes. No doubt there were others who wanted the same, but he knew not all would be willing to travel with a demon. He could have always taken on a disguise, and he could maintain it for a week, but he knew this journey would last much longer than that. Months may past, years even. And who knows what sort of energy he would use during that time, energy that would force him to cancel his illusions or return him to his original shape. He did not want to surprise his possible companion by his true self, as most demons who do that do so for ill intent. He did not, but that would not stop others from thinking so. Better to be honest up front and keep secrets only when they're unimportant. A good idea, if he was a good judge on what was unimportant.

Though he garnered stares from civilians and guardsmen, Damian was not harassed by anyone as he headed towards a tavern. It was a common story trope for adventuring parties to be gathered there, and he hopes that being there would attract capable allies. Unlike outside, no one batted an eye when he entered. He supposed that this establishment was already used to strange figures looking for adventure. Damian had taken a seat at one of the round tables, and shortly after a waitress arrived to take his order. "A whole roasted duck if you have any. A pitcher of gin and four cups as well." Damian did not plan to eat all of it, as he told the waitress when she inquired. "No. I am looking for free agents for... Well, I'm sure you can imagine. If you happen to find any, tell them I too am looking for adventurers." The waitress smiled and left towards the kitchen. In the mean time, Damian took out a book that detailed various "adventures" towards the Well of Wishes, hoping to gleam knowledge from it for his own trip. It was questionable if any of the tales inside the book was real, but there was no solid evidence that it was all fictional either.

Kayetan stood at the bow of the ship as it eased its way into harbour of Arunin. While he was no stranger to the cities and nations of Lemea, he never failed to feel a strange sense of apprehension every time he approached a new city, mainly for fear of being recognized. This was the first time he was leaving the Yaes Numir Seyur; within those lands, he was safe from almost all enemies. The neutrality of the Commonwealth had insulated him from whatever infighting there was between the constituent nations of the Alliance. The only true enemy of the Commonwealth was the Geworians and their agents were hardly going to notice a single minor Commonwealth noble when there were so many other juicier targets to choose from.

However, outside of the Yaes Numir Seyur, Kayetan became a lot more noticeable. There was always the possibility that a Geworian agent might notice him; he did look a lot like his father, who had led his fair share of Commonwealth armies south to confront the invading Geworians. While Kayetan was willing to admit that perhaps he was being paranoid - after all, the most anyone would be able to tell from just glancing at him would be that he was a native of the Commonwealth - he liked to make sure every possible eventuality had its own contingency plan. He was no free-spirited Vastermannen. The Svekkern were nothing if not a cautious race.

The ship came to a halt and ropes were thrown to dockworkers to moor it to the pier. Kayetan turned around and walked towards the gangplank to meet the captain. "Thank you for the trip. It was not as unpleasant as I had expected." Kayetan said and dug out a bag of coins from his coat pocket, handing it to the captain. "Your payment as agreed before the trip. It should be correct. I weighed and counted it myself on the second day of the journey."

The captain took the bag and let out an amused chuckle. "They weren't kiddin' when they said you Svekkern types were serious 'bout everythin'." He said and pocketed the bag. "Well, welcome to Arunin. You should be able to find your own way around, yeah?"

"I believe I can handle myself, but I appreciate the concern." Kayetan said and nodded to the captain before walking down the gangplank and onto the pier.

Almost immediately, Kayetan could see another way he stood out among the crowd. He still wore the same clothes he had worn when he left the Commonwealth. A dark blue, knee-length, hooded coat along with grey pants tucked neatly into calf-high boots. It was by no means extravagant, but it did look a bit too warm, considering the climate of Arunin. Kayetan shook his head slightly as he walked off the pier and towards the city itself. At most, he just looked like a Commonwealth citizen who was fresh off the boat. To be safe, however, Kayetan pulled up the hood and kept as much of his face hidden as he possibly could.

He wandered the streets, keeping an eye out for a good tavern to ask around for jobs for an adventurer. From experience, he avoided those close to the docks; they were bound to be teeming with people like himself and any job available would be quickly snatched away by someone else. He also avoided the more run-down taverns. It was unlikely that they would attract the sort of patrons that would be looking to hire adventurers for honest work. Kayetan wanted to see the world, but he would much rather prefer to see it while on the right side of the law.

Eventually, he found one close to one of the city gates, but what drew his attention was the filthy, half-naked man calling out for help in the middle of the street. People walked passed without paying him any heed and Kayetan could understand why. From the looks of it, the man had not washed himself for a very long time and had the smell to prove it. For a moment, Kayetan wondered if he should just walk on by, pretending that he had not seen or heard anything, but he simply could not. His clan, the Kulsomfall, had a long tradition of offering help to all who needed it, stemming from his ancestors offering refuge to those who needed a place to escape the freezing temperatures of the north.

With a sigh, Kayetan hurried forward and pulled the man to his feet, all the while doing his best to ignore the stench. "What happened to you?" Kayetan asked quickly and supported the man's weight. "Do you have a name?" He continued, then quickly realized that the man was probably in no shape to talk. He needed food and drink and perhaps a place to rest. "There is a tavern right in front of us. I will bring us there, is that fine with you?"

Everything hurt. From the inflamed wounds across his body to the tiniest of cuts hurt ever worse once he was sure he would die there in the street. He panted heavily, his head spinning. His mouth was dry like a desert, and the moldy bread he'd eaten hadn't helped. His bony hips prodded the cobblestone in a painful kind of way, but he was too weak to bother moving.

Then, suddenly, he felt someone grab onto him and haul him up. Zinzie let out a pained groan as his legs wobbled underneath him. He could barely hold himself up, even when leaning heavily on the stranger. He couldn't find the breath in between pants to answer the man's questions, but he tried.
"Yes, please," He rasped, "Please, before they find me. Thank you."

The tavern grew quiet when they staggered in the door. Zinzie was a sight for sore eyes. He wasn't sure what his rescuer looked like, but it was probably pretty strange. Zinzie began to feel slowly optimistic again. Maybe all hope wasn't lost. If he could hold out for a bit longer, he could most certainly recover. He would be home again in no time, assuming he could find his home.

Kayetan furrowed his brow when he heard the man mention that people were looking for him. Just what exactly had he gotten himself into? Regardless, the chance for Kayetan to back out had long since passed, and if the people looking for the man came looking for trouble, then Kayetan would just have to deal with it. "Careful," Kayetan warned as they navigated the floor of the tavern towards a quiet corner, where hopefully few people would pay them any attention. They attracted several curious gazes, but all of them were harmless. Just people wondering what a pale-skinned Svekkern was doing with what appeared to be a homeless man.

"Stay here," Kayetan said as he gently lowered the man onto a seat. He removed the bag slung across his back and placed it on the table. Opening it, he pulled out a half-full canteen of water. It was hardly clean water, but it had been boiled and condensed several times, making it at least somewhat safe to drink. The fact that Kayetan was still alive proved that much, though he did use it exclusively to water down wines or ales that were much too strong for his liking. Anything that was processed was far safer than water that could have been taken from a stream used as a toilet by some village upstream. "Drink this, but do it slowly. Try not to choke yourself." He said and stood up. "If you find any food in my pack, do not eat it. It might quite possibly kill you."

Starvation was not something that was new to Kayetan, though this was perhaps the first time he was trying to prevent it rather than cause it. During his campaigns against the northern tribes, one of the most effective tactics were to destroy any and all food producing facilities. It was dirty, bordering on dishonourable, but Kayetan had never heard of a war that was fought in an entirely clean or honourable way. It was a small comfort to the victims of the artificially induced famine, but it was what Kayetan told himself to allow him to at least get a good night's sleep.

At the very least, Kayetan could take heart in knowing that what he learned would help one person. The man was going to need something easy on the stomach, and the only thing Kayetan could think of was gruel or porridge. He approached a waitress and pointed to his table. "A bowl of porridge, plain and preferably hot, please." He said. The waitress nodded and headed off for where Kayetan assumed was the kitchen.

He walked back to the table and sat down opposite the man. "You mentioned people finding you. Are you in any sort of trouble I should know about?" Kayetan asked.

Aerrea stepped into one of the many taverns on one of the larger streets near the entrance to the town and after taking a look which was well-hidden as an attempt to locate a waiter she saw two man which stuck out as sore thumbs, one in obviously bad condition and the other unmistakably being a Svekkeren, a race she encountered during the Fourth Campaign of Gorran Highlands back in Seyur, a bloody part of the ongoing war in which the Geworian Empire tried, for the fourth time, to take the Gorran Highlands. As she walked up to the table, observing the Svekkeren in the process, the other person was so covered in dirt that it was impossible to tell who it was, she remembered the Svekkeren which fought in Gorran. The cold Gorran winter had just begun and Seyur had troubles dealing with Geworain units of the Seliar Knights which were well used to such conditions, only the arrival of Svekkern troops and the information about a crucial Geworian supply convoy for the Seliar Knights that she provided allowed them to halt the Geworian advance until spring when a renewed Seyur army retook all that the Geworians claimed during the winter and forced them back to Weor Fort in the Gorran (Mountain) Pass. Then she recognized the Svekkeren sitting at the table, it was no other then the hair of Kulsomfall, one of the two Svekkeren clans which was almost always present when Seyur called upon the Svekker-Vastermannen Commonwealth, one of the four clans which came into Gorran during the Fourth Campaign.

She stopped in front of him and did spoke up, only that him and the unknown man across him cloud hear: "I am Aerrea h's Fargur Zeharr. I salute you Kayetan Svarst'Kulsomfall." Then she pulled out a knife out of her sleeve, and with the blunt side of the blade made a quick pass across her hand and then the small finger, the first was a custom of all those which serve or served under the banners of Seyur while the other was the way that informants, assassins and other members of the Seyur which were involved with shadowy methods greeted other Seyur member. Then she quickly went on with a remark, while returning the knife into her sleeve: "It is alright if I sit here?" She then waited for his reply, while remembering that he was at the time of the Gorran war, some 4 years after she left Fharis, he was still confined inside the Commonwealth due to some incident that she didn't remember anymore. Narikawa would know but the demon was asleep and she had no intention of waking him up. If any magical danger approaches her Immes would warn her.

Zinzie flopped down in the chair, limp as a ragdoll. He didn't look too lively until water was offered to him. He most certainly would have chugged it down if the man offering it to him hadn't told him not to. Instead, he slowly but steady drained the bottle. By now, he'd stopped panting like a fat man running a marathon. Zinzie at least felt a bit better. His voice was clear enough to speak with the man who had saved him.

"Thieves," He said. "I was taken by thieves. They were after the wealth and riches of my people. The Wandering Nation; perhaps you've heard of them? I was their king."

The Wandering Nation was a thing of myth, as far as most people were concerned. There were some that claimed to have seen it, but it was usually dismissed as a large group of travelers. The legend went that a group of outcasts formed. They were shunned by society, and suffered for it. Forced to wander the vast and unforgiving lands, they decided that no one else should have to suffer their fate. They began to pick up people who society also tossed aside. Run away slaves, fugitives, royalty that wished to escape the crown, anyone who wanted to join them. It was said that over time, the caravan grew from tens, to hundreds, to thousands. It was the population of a small nation, and thus the name. It gained several royals, and with them, unequaled fortunes. Many thought that if they could defeat the Wandering people, they would be the riches person of earth. But no one had ever been able to pin their location down. Thus, people assumed that it was all just a story that people told each other when they couldn't find anything else to do.

"You won't regret your kindness," Zinzie promised. "If you can help me find them, I will repay you in gold, my friend. As much as you can carry. Plus a horse to carry more." Zinzie certainly didn't look very rich. And he sure as hell didn't look like any kind of king. Perhaps the months in isolation had taken his mind. Maybe he was just delirious. He seemed so sure of himself, though.

"The Wandering nation, right." Kayetan said dryly. If he had any doubts that Zinzie was not of the right frame of mind before, what he had just said removed them. While Kayetan had heard of The Wandering Nation before, and he had spoken to people who allegedly saw its people firsthand, most of those reports were unsubstantiated and any follow-up expeditions failed to find the elusive nation. The official Commonwealth stance was that The Wandering Nation did not exist, and Kayetan was inclined to agree. "A king, no less?" Kayetan asked, sounding ever so slightly amused. At the same time, he wondered if the man had suffered some sort of trauma to make him speak such words as if he really believed them.

At that moment, he heard someone address him by his full name. Groaning inwardly, Kayetan turned to face whoever that had called him. It had to be a new record; it had barely been a day and already someone had noticed him. The woman he looked at was not exactly the kind of person he had been expecting to see, but he supposed that there was a first for all kinds of surprises. He wondered if this was some Geworian trick for a moment, but the woman executed the greetings carried out only by the clandestine elements of the Yaes Numir Seyur flawlessly. Kayetan relaxed slightly, but he did not completely let his guard down. He returned her gesture in the traditional Svekkern way, which was just a simple nod of acknowledgement alongside a thumping of the chest with his right fist. It was short, to the point and very, very Svekkern.

"Go right ahead," He said and gestured to one of the empty seats. "What brings you to Lemea, if you do not mind me asking?"

Zinzie then mentioned something about paying him with gold, and Kayetan decided that for now, he would play along to the best of his abilities. "I do not seek gold. I just seek adventure." Kayetan replied truthfully and looked the man up and down. He looked as if he was going to have a hard time getting bronze coin let alone paying someone in the amounts of gold he was describing. Just then, the waitress came by and set down a steaming bowl of plain, white porridge on the table. Kayetan handed her the money for the food and pushed the bowl over to Zenzie. "In any case, before we do anything, you should get some food in your stomach."

Zinzie didn't argue. He began wolfing down the porridge as if it were the greatest meal on the planet. His table manners were sure nothing to write home about. When his bowl was empty and scraped clean, he leaned back in his chair again. His stomach actually felt full. It was uncomfortable almost. But he was much happier now than before.

Zinzie reached up to scratch his head, only to be reminded that it was caked with dried mud. He was filthy. Zinzie wasn't a neat freak by any means of the word, but he enjoyed feeling clean now and then.
"Do you think they offer baths here?" He asked. He knew that, during his travels, taverns were a good place to stop, get supplies, and wash up. Many had some sort of inn attached to them, with a bathhouse. A nice, warm bath sounded pretty good to the beaten man.

Morgan was watching the entire time, knowing that she can't take over Damian right now until his mind weaken. She was pretending to sleep and was going to strike when he least expected it. However, keeping quiet was hard. There were so many things she wanted to look at or make Damian tell her about. When she spotted the man laying in the dirt, she wanted to help him, but before she would blurt out Damian was already gone. She nearly blew her cover trying to get him to go back, but she knew that it was only a matter of time. "I'll just want until he's out of the way and I can go see if that mortal is okay!" She watched as Damian got inside a Tavern and ordered a bunch of food and drinks. She knew he was looking for others, but from what Morgan saw, there was already a party forming without him. If he didn't take the initiative and talk to them, he'd be left behind. "Hey, Damian! Look over there, people! Adventurers! Go talk to them, they might be looking for the Well of Wishes!" She couldn't keep the silence up for long and started to pester her host. "Or just get drunk and let me talk to them! No one is going to see you, let me out let me out let me out!"

"Pretty much the same reason that you are here," Aerrea answered Keytan while sitting down on the pointed chair and shouting her order to the nearest waiter.
She then took out a piece of paper, colored black and with a broken white seal, the unmistakable mark of the three Masters of Information in Yaes Numir Seyur and flashed it in front of Keytan, pointing to her true mission, information gathering, while saying: "Well I don't know much about this town so I wouldn't know but since it is Alagorian I don't doubt that have a terma (bathhouse) somewhere inside the city walls. After we finish eating I guess that we should head there, as an Alagorian saying goes: "A good journey starts in a terma and ends in a terma." Hopefully a dip in an bath will bring us good luck on the journey."
Her order, a simple meal of bread, milk and hard-boiled eggs arrived and after putting the letter back into her coat she proceeded to eat it while waiting for someone to go on with the talk. "There is a weird demoniacal aura nearby, be careful" Immes warned her via telepathy, a magic that was used commonly all over the world and was easy to detect by anyone with even a hint of magical training and talent.

Kayetan glanced at the seal and let out another sigh in his head. Not only was someone from the Yaes Numir Seyur here, she was a clandestine agent as well. He had no personal grievances with the cloak-and-dagger operatives of the Yaes Numir Seyur - they did good work and often were integral to several Commonwealth victories against the Geworians - but they were rarely good news. The Yaes Numir Seyur would not just send people of her caliber out at the drop of a hat. Whatever her task was, Kayetan was uncertain whether he wanted a part in it. On one hand, it guaranteed adventure. On the other, it could also guarantee death.

"A bath, right." He murmured, sounding uninterested in the idea. He had already had his fill of showers while on the way to Arunin, courtesy of the waves his ship had ran into roughly halfway into the journey. "And as a Vastermannen saying goes, 'If you need luck, you are beyond it's help.'" He said with a little smirk. While the Vastermannen were considered to be more jovial than the Svekkern, they were still northern and were serious and grim when compared to the other races of the world.

He leaned back in his seat as Aerrea's food arrived, content with watching the two of them eat, or more specifically, Aerrea. Zinzie had apparently poured the contents of his bowl right down his throat, an amazing feat considering that the porridge was probably piping hot. "I cannot speak for Zinzie, but what makes you think that we would be travelling together?" Kayetan asked, his words and tone perhaps a little more confrontational than he had intended. "I recognize your seal, and the Yaes Numir Seyur would not send someone out like you on a whim. There must be something important that you are up to, and from what I know of your people, it usually bodes ill for those alongside them."

"Where is it that we are traveling?" Zinzie asked after Kayetan's question. He knew he wished to return home, but he didn't exactly know where home was. When his people disappeared, they never got a chance to tell him where they were going. He supposed he could just wander around until he found them, but that could take years. He needed magic. Magic far stronger than what he was capable of.

He didn't recognize the seal, which was not surprising. As much as he traveled, he never really interacted with people outside of his caravan.

"Because I guess that you are heading towards the biggest adventure in Lamea, to the Well if Wishes, and so am I," she said while putting the last piece of bread in her mouth and smiled at him while going on: "And knowing the great skills associated with your name I find you a more then acceptable companion on the travel there, if that is your intended destination. As for why I myself am here, let's say I was at the right place at the right time. There are ears and eyes, especially Alagorian everywhere so we shall talk this in one of the terma's private fessu (steam/sauna) room if you are that interested in that matter, together with the latest bundle of news from home that I received before leaving Orientar as well."
She stood up and went up to the bar - with a nice tip on top of the pay for what she ordered, those eggs and goat milk were actually really good, she found out that the better of the town's two terma were just next to the river's entrance into the sea so she returned with that information to the table were she left the two ...

Kayetan folded his arms. Like the Wandering Nation, he had heard of the Well of Wishes in stories, but he had always assumed it to be just that, a story concocted by those in difficult times looking for just a reason to get through the day. Even the people who had claimed to have seen the Well firsthand often turned out to be somewhat mentally unbalanced or were just outright liars trying to con simple folk out of their money. The woman's goal, for all Kayetan knew, was about as attainable as a warm summer in the Commonwealth.

Still, there was a part of him that was intrigued by her proposal. An attempt to find the Well would certainly be an adventure, even if they did not find it. It would also save him quite a bit of trouble; he had no illusions that the lady's adventure would be a short one. Chances were, it would take weeks or even months just to have themselves moving in the right direction. A long adventure would save him the trouble of having to look around for work or people to travel with every time he stepped into a new town or village. There was also the benefits should they find the Well. Kayetan had no idea what its powers were, but finding it might just be prestigious enough to wipe away his bad reputation within the Commonwealth. Even though he had been officially considered fit for duty, he was well aware that he was probably never going to lead another Commonwealth army with his current reputation.

"Consider my curiosity piqued," Kayetan said at last. "But perhaps we should move to the...Bathhouses you mentioned. Details would be welcome. I do not want to be running into this blind." He groaned inwardly at the mention of a sauna. As a northerner, he was much more comfortable in colder areas. Heat made him uncomfortable at best, and at worst - such as in a desert - it could even be deadly. "But what about our friend here?" He asked and glanced at Zinzie. "I cannot in good conscience have him come along with us on an adventure when he barely has any clothes on. He would not last a week beyond the city walls."

Zinzie looked slightly offended. "I'll have you know that I was born on the open road. I've traveled thousands of miles on my own two feet since I was a tot. True, I'm not in the best of shape now..." He looked down at himself, malnourished, infected, and bleeding. "But given some rest and proper food, I think I could bounce back. I'm certainly not dead."

Zinzie was fairly lively given his condition. He liked to think that he could be back on his feet and traveling home in a mere two days, but it didn't look the case. He was frail from the months of living off bugs and rotten bread. He was sore with red, angry wounds and infection. He was dirty, unkempt, unprepared, and penniless. Deep down, he knew he couldn't get himself out of this. He needed help, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He needed money, shelter, food, clothing, and every basic need of a human being. Perhaps if he stuck with these two, and went with them to this....Well of Wishes, real or not, they could help him get back on his feet. If the well was real, then he could maybe just wish himself back home. If not, then perhaps by then, he would be well enough to make the journey on his own.

"Well, I think that if not completely, then at least partially, he will recover as we travel trough Kaymari and the relative safety of it's roads. By the time we reach the crossing into the wild areas of Lemea he should be at least good to run away if needed. By the fact that he survived whatever he was put trough he proves that he is tougher then one would guess by his current state, so I see no problems with him tagging along if he wishes so" Aerrea spoke as she glanced over the doors.
She continued: "Now how about we get on our way to take a bath?"

Kayetan snickered mentally at Aerrea's insistence of having a bath. Whatever road she had taken, it must have been a rough one. He stood up and slung his rucksack across his back and checked that all his weapons where secure, most important of which was his carbine. His sword and sword-breaker were simple items, little more than a single piece of metal hammered into the shape of a weapon and with leather wrapped around the handle. The firearm, on the other hand, had a lot of intricate mechanical parts within. While not as fragile or complicated as a wheellock, the snaplock mechanism still relied on a spring that could be knocked out of place if it was not secured properly during transport.

"Lead the way, then." He said to Aerrea. "I only just arrived via boat, but I cannot say I saw any of the bathhouses you mentioned while on the way here."

Zinzie slowly stood to follow them. He held onto the table as he pulled himself up, his leg wobbling underneath him. He felt as though his body weighed a thousand pounds. The strength it took to pick his legs up and move was immense. Still, he was having a bit of a stubborn streak; he had to show them that he would be just fine. He took another step, still holding onto the table. Zinzie clung to it until it ran out, and he was forced to grab something else.

He went for Kayetan's shoulder. A bony hand held onto the thick coat the man was wearing. He wandered just how far this bathhouse was. Perhaps he would rather just stay dirty.