“Hm,” said Kemp. “I always wanted to go to new places. Even going to the marshes down south was fun. Maybe I could join up with a troupe, like you said before. Maybe I could go someplace where they don’t have a blacksmith and help them out. But I want to go even farther than that, see the whole world!” His voice grew more excited. “I want to see Nod’s Tower in Serapelsk, and the Cathedral of the Tree in Svetsk-am-Raykhskoe, and Godbreaker Cliff in Asteroux. And I want to cross the sea! Did you know that in Oestia and Truehome, they have an animal called a bison? It’s like a cow, but much bigger, and it comes in herds so big they go out to the horizon!”

“I have,” Nikha said with a frown. “But I think the Oestians are hunting them by the thousands now.”

“All the more reason to see them soon as I can!” He grinned. “And I don’t just want to go to Oestia. I want to visit Thurnia, and Graen Sulzer, and the Thousand Kingdoms, and Asteroux and Cymdwyth-“

“Ew! Never!” she interrupted.

“-and Baolei, too! Every year or so a caravan from there comes to Afansk to trade, and if they’re telling the truth it sounds like an amazing place.”

Nikha’s ears perked up at that. Baolei was an insular and secretive nation, and what she’d learned about it from Matron Fulgin hadn’t sounded amazing at all. “Really? What were they like, the Baolese?”

Kemp rubbed his chin. “Well, their eyes are a different shape than ours, for whatever that’s worth. Seems like they’re good at haggling, too, though maybe that’s just ‘cause the ones I’ve met are merchants. And talking to them is a little odd. They’ll go from polite to rude in half a second. Just walk away mid-sentence. And even when they’re being nice, they talk to you really slow, like you’re stupid. Always makes my Da angry. He says they treat him like a half-deafened dog.”

There it is, thought Nikha. “That’s about how they think of all of you, probably,” she said.

He gave her a suspicious look. “Is this another of your noble versus peasant things?”

She shook her head, ponytail bouncing back and forth. “No. They’d treat me the same way. Baolese don’t think foreigners are real people. Or some other Baolese, for that matter. It’s why they’ve still got slaves when even the Oestians freed theirs years ago.”

“W-wait, really?” He looked shocked. “Slaves? That’s awful. The caravaneers never said anything about that.”

“Loads of slaves. Matron Fulgin says that a third of the people in Baolei are someone else’s property. It’s barbaric.” She crossed her arms.

“How can they do that?” Kemp asked with a sick look on his face.

“Um…” Nikha wracked her brain, trying to remember Matron Fulgin’s lessons. “So, Baolei isn’t an Annoumenist country like Tsev is. They’re Dvirists. They think they whole universe is a war between a good god and an evil one- and the evil one made the world as a way to fight the good.”

“So they think the whole world is evil?”

“Sort of,” said Nikha, before cursing as she stumbled over a rock. “Their prophet Dvir said the evil god made the world and filled it with his creatures,” she went on. “It was supposed to confuse the good god, I think. But then the good god chose the best of the monsters, and put a spark of his power in them so they became people. Then he told them “Go out and make the world good so I can come in!” or something like that. And if they’re good enough they get to join back up with the good god when they die.”

“And those people he chose were the Baolese,” said Kemp.

Nikha blinked. “Yes, that’s right. And that’s why they do so many bad things. Everyone else is like an animal to them, or maybe a doll, and you can’t sin against one of those.”

Kemp frowned. “Surely they aren’t all like that.”

“Maybe not.” She shrugged. “Matron Fulgin says you can never trust a Baolese, though. They’ve no reason not to lie or stab you in the back.”

“They always seemed to give us good deals,” Kemp muttered, but he left it at that. They walked in silence for a few minutes, making their way up a long, gradual rise.

“You know,” Kemp said between breaths, “your nobles sound kind of like these Dvirists.”

“What?” Nikha snapped as she looked over at him. “How? We’re nothing alike.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “you think you’re better than other people just because of who your parents are, right? And you have people you control ‘cause they weren’t born that way.”

“That-That’s ridiculous!” She gave Kemp a glare. “We don’t have peasants, they just work our land! And we don’t mistreat them, there are laws against it! We’re all people under the light of the Annoumenos.”

“But if there’s laws against it, then it has to have happened before, right? Otherwise there’d be no need.”

Nikha crossed her arms. “Yes. Well, maybe long ago. But not anymore! Like I said, peasants aren’t owned, they’re just tenants. They can leave whenever they like.”

He gave her a look. “Really?”

“Well, they have to ask permission first,” she said diffidently, “but even if their lord says no they can appeal to the provincial governor, for a fee…” She trailed off. It did seem rather draconian when she put it like that.

Kemp didn’t reply, like he’d made his point. Nikha glared a hole in his back, fists clenched. She stopped walking. “I’m not like that!” she shouted at him. He whirled around, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m not like the Dvirists, and neither is Papa!” She was so angry, all of a sudden.

“I-I didn’t mean to say you were,” said Kemp, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just that the…system, or whatever you’d call it, it’s kind of similar. That’s all.” He almost looked scared.

Nikha’s anger snuffed out as quickly as it had lit. She huffed out a breath, shoulders drooping. “Fine. You’re maybe, sort of, a little bit right.” He nodded, still looking worried. “I’m sorry for biting your head off, okay? Let’s just keep going. I’m sick of this hill.”

He relaxed some. “Same.” The climb continued, growing steeper near its end. A few more minutes of head-down exertion and they reached the crest.

“Kemp, do you see that-“

“Yeah.”

The drop was much steeper on the other side, their ridge falling away into a great bowl-like valley perhaps carved out by an ancient glacier. Long shadows streaked across its base as if left by a god’s paintbrush. And in its middle, perhaps half a mile away, was the spark of a campfire.

“Should we go meet them?” Kemp asked.

Nikha took her rifle into her hands. “I don’t think we have a choice.” They descended the slope and warily approached the fire. As they got closer it was plain to see that only one person was sitting on a stump next to it, their features washed out by the low sunlight. They had to have spotted Kemp and Nikha by now, but they didn’t get up or run: rather, the figure stuck up a hand and waved.

“They’re acting friendly enough,” muttered Kemp.

“We’ll see.” Nikha glanced over at him. “Is your gun loaded?”

“Yes, but…do you really think I’ll need it?”

She sighed. “I have no idea what to think.”

The pair was closer now, close enough to see the sun glinting off the figure’s armor. For a moment Nikha thought it might be Sir Remy again, but then the person called out. “Hello, there! Care to rest a moment?” The voice was a young man’s, slightly accented but not like Sir Remy’s at all. “I mean you no harm, I assure you!”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Nikha whispered to Kemp. “We could at least talk to him, though. And my legs are pretty tired.”

Kemp thought a moment, then nodded. “Alright, we’ll sit a moment,” he called back to the armored stranger.

“Wonderful,” came the excited reply. “It gets rather lonely on these endless plains, does it not? Come and sit!”

Nikha and Kemp were finally close enough to get a good look at the stranger. He was indeed young, maybe only a few years older and a few inches taller than they were. He wore a heavy-looking coat of chainmail along with greaves and bracers, but a pair of round eyeglasses sat incongruously across his nose. Next to him on the ground were a bulky steel helmet and a straight, shortish arming sword. How archaic, Nikha thought. His face broke into a big, open smile as they approached the fire. “Greetings, fellow travelers! I am Felix Andreevich of Plevek, and I welcome you to my humble fire.”

Kemp looked over at Nikha, confused, and she just raised an eyebrow before turning back to Felix. “I’m Nikha Lyizevna, and this is Kemp Arkadievich. A pleasure to meet you.”

“I can introduce myself, Nikha,” Kemp hissed at her.

“Sorry!” she whispered back.

“Lovely to meet you both!” Felix was still beaming at them. “Please, sit if you like! I’m sorry to sound so desperate, but it’s been a week or more since I’ve laid eyes on another person.” He glanced behind him. “One of you may have the stump, if you’d like, or-“

“No, thank you.” Kemp chose that moment to sit right down on the ground, and Nikha followed suit, handing him a canteen and some jerky.

Felix blinked. “Oh. Well. That will be fine too, of course.” He looked back and forth, bemused. “I hope you’ll pardon me for saying so, but aren’t you two rather young to be traveling alone? Where are you headed?”

“Uhhh…” Nikha’s mouth opened but no words came out. She couldn’t come up with an explanation that would even come close to making sense.

Kemp saved her. “We’re headed north to the Lake of Dolmens,” he hurriedly interrupted. “Our uncle is a fisherman there. Da died and Ma couldn’t feed us anymore so we’re going to live with him.” Nikha looked at him, eyebrows raised. Did he come up with that on the spot?

Felix seemed taken aback too. “Oh, my! That’s quite a trip. I’m sorry for your father as well, Martyrs keep him.”

“We thank you,” said Kemp, bowing his head. Nikha belatedly matched him before he continued. “Felix...you aren’t lost out here, are you?”

“Oh! No. Not at all.” Felix leaned forward, towards the flames. “I’ve just left a free company, you see, and it happens that so has an old friend. I’m waiting here for him while he visits his family, and then it’s off to the west to find work.”

“You’re a mercenary?” Nikha asked. That was usually what ‘free company’ meant in her books.

Felix inclined his head slightly. “Why yes, young lady, I am.” Nikha scowled, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You’ve nothing to fear from me. Especially when you carry such a stout walking stick. Doesn’t it get heavy?”

Kemp and Nikha shared a look. Did he really not know what her rifle was? And his gear was archaic as well. It was like they’d stepped through time as well as space. “You…you get used to it,” she managed to answer.

Kemp quickly changed the subject. “By the way, Felix, do you happen to know what happened to the village a couple hours south? We aren’t from around here.”

“The village to the south…” Felix rubbed his chin and thought for a few moments. “Oh! I know the one. It was burned years ago. Nothing to worry about. The front has long since moved.”

“Why was it burned?” Nikha asked.

Felix gave her the sort of smile one might give a child asking why their pet had slept for three days straight. “For the war, of course. Such things are common. I’ve not seen an unburnt town in a year’s time or more.”