Both awoke at the break of dawn, more or less at the same time, yet neither said anything. Their eyes naturally met and smiles bloomed and the silence continued. Sammy moved first, caressing Julie’s cheek, then Julie turned to kiss Sammy’s palm, so Sammy pinched those lips, stealing a kiss and bringing it back to her own lips. Julie giggled at their antics, such a beautiful sound to Sammy.

“Good morning, wife,” Sammy whispered.

“G’morning, wife.”

They stared into each other’s eyes a moment longer, then both drew in for a lingering kiss, Julie chasing for a moment when Sammy pulled back.

“We need not rush, but shouldn’t dawdle,” Sammy said, sitting up.

As she did, the blanket slipped off her. Julie followed the movement, only for her gaze to get stuck on Sammy’s chest, memories flickering in her mind. That gaze far from subtle, Sammy indulged and brought up a hand, teasing down the neckline—and how loose it was, going down farther and farther until—

Julie looked away, her next breath coming out in small shudders. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” she said.

Smile telling of how pleased with herself she was, Sammy stood up, went to their packs, and picked out clothes to wear. While there was no need to change her drawers, she had to take off the chemise to put on the corset, then put the chemise back on, followed by the shirt of the riding habit. Trousers were next, loose with elastic at the waist and by the ankles, almost like pyjamas, and the long skirt over the top, hitched up using loops and buttons when not riding.

Finished, Sammy turned around and found Julie looking over.

“It’s, um, more complicated than I thought,” Julie said.

Sammy sighed. “Alas, I would cause quite the stir if I wore as little as I wished.” Then, seeing Julie’s guilty gaze look away, she laughed. “Not as little as you are imagining—the chafing would be just dreadful. Undergarments and a loose shirt and trousers is my modest wish.”

Julie’s imagination carrying on, she pictured that kind of outfit on Sammy. Riding through a field, crouching in the stirrups, wind blowing her hair, loose shirt whipping about… was something she wanted to see. It wasn’t that she thought Sammy would look particularly beautiful or anything like that, more that she wanted to see Sammy’s smile, hear her shouts of joy and laughter.

Sammy pulled Julie out of her thoughts, giving her a kiss on the way out. “I shall be back shortly.”

Julie watched Sammy leave, then sighed, rubbing her face. These new emotions were hard to deal with, so loud. Different to the anger and frustration and pain that she was used to. After spending her whole life learning to ignore her feelings or channel them into something constructive, it was hard to now need to embrace how she felt, to listen to her urges.

But she was slowly learning.

The two had a lazy breakfast and then wandered around the port for a while, checking the stalls of the wandering merchants. Sammy hadn’t bought any clothing in Formadgo, conscious that she had been somewhat indulgent and didn’t want to strain Faith, but there was an old woman selling fabrics, one just the perfect maroon to remind her of Julie.

Sammy’s Lapdosian vocabulary on the small side, it took a back-and-forth for her to purchase a small square. Their next stop was then a seamstress for a rush-order sewing.

While they waited, Julie said, “Honestly, it’s kind of surprising you don’t know how to sew. You didn’t do embroidering?”

“That is certainly a hobby for well-to-do girls and women, but something… beneath a princess. Well, a crown princess. Perhaps I could have learned in my leisure hours, but I always had much I wanted to read and guests I wished to entertain,” Sammy said.

“I see.”

The request a simple one, Sammy shortly had her handkerchief, tucking it into her breast pocket. At Julie’s curious look, Sammy said, “To keep you close to my heart.”

“Oh.”

It took another second before Sammy noticed the subtle blush, her smile sweetening.

Having made good use of their idle time, they then headed to the ship, ready to board. The horses were hung up in slings down in the hold, their accommodation not much better, a narrow room with two sets of bunk bed-like hammocks—two low, two high up.

Of course, Sammy wasted no time hoisting herself into a top one, putting herself at the perfect height to lazily gaze out the high portholes. Julie smiled to herself at her wife’s antics, then smiled some more at thinking of Sammy as her wife.

Soon, the ship pushed off, sails billowed, oars rowed, taking them ever further from where their journey had begun.

“Since Alfen is farther south and farther away, the current isn’t so strong. However, like with Dworfen, there wasn’t much trade until the start of the last century, but unlike Dworfen, there has been steady trade going back to the Catastrophe. The nomads of Lapdose would graze westward to trade their wares and cattle at the end of summer, then graze eastward to trade for the surplus food coming from Alfen after the harvest there.

“That’s why there’s been such tension between Gyalty and Lapdose—the nomads were slowly cut off from selling to the west, forcing them to change their migrations that had been going on for centuries, maybe longer, and they struggled to afford enough food to last them through the winters.”

Julie listened, not really understanding, but feeling the emotions nonetheless. Sammy always spoke of these things like she was trying to be fair, yet Julie couldn’t imagine how hunger could be fair.

From there, Sammy talked more of Alfen. Boundless fields of fertile soil and forests rich in fruit and berries. That, by all accounts, Alfen was where farming began and where livestock was first raised. Some even thought horses were first domesticated by Alfish settlers, the nomads of the Lapdosian steppes their descendants.

“It is a place rich in food. Because of that, the people there have had much time over the centuries for cultural pursuits—art, writing, and notably theatre. However, content with their abundance, they rarely traded amongst themselves and so existed in a kind of isolation. A place of countless languages and traditions and even religions. We hold the bible as truth, but the only truth is that there is us and there is the gods.”

Sammy held onto that last line, letting out a sigh, then shook her head.

“Forgive me, I have rather indulged. Alfen was always such a fascinating place to me with how different it is to even Dworfen.”

Julie couldn’t exactly say she wanted Sammy to continue, already long past the point of lost, but still wanted to comfort her wife. “It’ll be interesting to see it for ourselves.”

Smiling, Sammy said, “Indeed.”

The late departure and greater distance meant that the sun had almost set when the shouts of land sounded off—not that Julie knew until Sammy translated. By the time the ship was tied up at the dock and they and their horses were offloaded, the warm glow of oil lamps fought off the encroaching darkness.

Picking a senior member of the crew who didn’t look too busy, Sammy asked, “Excuse me, sir, could one ask for directions to a place to stay?”

He looked back at her with a squint, mouth set in an almost snarl—an old habit from pipe smoking. “Tha’s a tough ask f’r a salty dog,” he said, voice telling of his vice.

Sammy’s polite smile betrayed none of her confusion. “I see, could you… point us that way?”

There was a long and awkward pause between them until he finally gestured off in one direction. “Some gent or tha’ sort out there can send ya t’ some inn,” he said.

“Thank you,” Sammy said, not that she understood what he’d said.

With a direction to go, Sammy and Julie set off. Not expecting to go far, they didn’t mount up, leading the horses on foot, luckily the dock not yet flooded with returning fishermen—or fishermen heading out to night fish.

The city beyond the docks was familiar enough to these two who had visited many a city and town on their travels. Mostly small buildings along roads, some larger buildings here and there, a couple tall ones poking up in the distance. Homes, shops, warehouses, some empty or even derelict. Not many businesses were still open, but those that were were bursting with energy, laughter and light spilling out windows and around poorly-fitted doors.

Following the road, the buildings eventually neatened up, built square to the road and with regular bricks and the windows were level. Again, well-travelled as they were, they knew this was clearly a more well-to-do district, which also meant it was lacking in inns. It wouldn’t do to have such a rowdy establishment nearby.

“I suppose we shall have to ask for directions again,” Sammy said.

“Do you speak, um, Alfish?” Julie asked.

Sammy giggled. “Ah, if only it was so easy. I am comfortable with the prominent language for the west coast and with the royal language, but we may still struggle,” she said.

They continued on a little longer and, hearing somewhere noisy, followed their ears to a market. It wasn’t far from the well-to-do district, but the people around weren’t in fine clothes or otherwise giving an impression of affluence. Instead, there were people who looked like servants, wearing uniforms not unlike the maids and footmen of Schtat. The other people around were mostly women in adjusted dresses, the skirts puffy and some embroidered, shawls over their shoulders. A sense of middle-class to them.

“Shall we look around?” Sammy asked.

Julie frowned. “Do we have time?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Julie took Sammy at her word.

While not a crowded market at this time of day, a horse was a horse and two horses were twice as much horse, so Julie stayed with them while Sammy visited a few stalls. Julie watching, she was surprised by the boring choices. One stall had jewellery, another one had pastries (or what looked like pastries to Julie), and she could even see one that sold art, small canvasses with bright paint, finer details hard to make out from so far away.

No, Sammy stopped to inspect some vegetables, then chatted with the lady tending to a fruit stall, coming away with a punnet of something, then squatted down, listening to the little girl beside her mother at a stall selling flowers.

When Sammy came back, she offered the punnet to Julie. “Fresh strawberries—do try one, they have a smoother taste than the sweet ones I am used to.”

Julie stared for a moment, then took one.

“How is it?” Sammy asked, her smile sparkling.

“Good,” Julie mumbled, so Sammy picked another, bringing it to Julie’s mouth.

“After all that meat you ate, I wouldn’t want you to become constipated,” Sammy said. Julie choked, Sammy quick to pat and rub her back. “Do you need a drink?”

Julie shook her head, fighting the annoyance that rose up. “Just, don’t talk about that stuff in public… and when I’m eating,” she said, her voice quiet yet heated.

Sammy pouted. “Good health is important,” she said.

Well, that face doused the last of Julie’s heat, an apology already halfway to her lips before she managed to catch it. Unwilling to give in so easily, she turned away. “What are we doing next?” she asked, idly looking at the nearby buildings.

“Kabij—she runs the fruit stall—recommended an inn with a stable nearby we should check first, otherwise she said there are more by the eastern and southern gates. She was also willing to accept Formadgian currency, so I think we need not worry for that tonight.”

Julie nodded along. Nothing more needing to be said, they set off, trying to disrupt as little as possible with their horses. Once through the market, that was easier, just following the road.

Moving away from the well-to-do district, it grew noticeably darker, lamps spaced out more and the streets more meandering, shadows lurking behind corners and pooling in alleys, but it wasn’t yet quiet, men and women and even children still out. That was something Julie thought she’d never get used to, growing up in a barracks instilling in her that sundown was the end of the day for women and children. As long as there wasn’t any night exercises.

The twilight had also made it hard for Julie to get a good look at people, but, coming to the inn, what she thought she’d noticed was proven true. Most of the patrons had rather dark skin, not really black, but not simply tanned. Wood was what came to mind. Deep browns with wrinkles and folds, eyes like knots, hints of reds and yellows—maybe because of the warm light.

Then her ears took over, drawn into the sounds the people made. She couldn’t understand a single word, but there was a kind of musicalness to how they spoke, picking up little melodies.

Meanwhile, Sammy arranged room and board for them and their horses for the night. The innkeeper—an elderly woman, dressed in some kind of draped length of fabric—showed them upstairs, pointing out their room at the end. While they went in and put down their packs, Julie thought of how to ask the question.

“Um, Sammy? Do the people here… sing when they talk?” she mumbled.

Sammy hummed in thought. “In a way, I suppose. Most of the Alfish languages, including Paschimi, have what is called—sorry, I shouldn’t parrot random words at you. Let’s see… like we use tone, they often use pitch to give more meaning to what they say. For example, rather than mother or father, they will say parent in either a higher pitch or lower pitch. So, the up-and-down way they speak certainly does sound a bit musical.”

That all sounded pretty strange to Julie, but this was a very foreign country, so, really, it would’ve been stranger if they spoke in a similar way. “I see.”

No reason to stay in their room, they went down for dinner. It was an uncanny meal. While it had a good portion of meat and familiar vegetables, and Julie was certainly no stranger to stews, the result was… different.

“I think you will like this karee,” Sammy said, pausing to gently blow on her spoonful of food.

Julie had tried a lot of new foods on their travel, but none had looked quite as unappetising. Still, Sammy’s reassurance reassured her, so she brought up a spoon of the brownish mess and, after steeling herself, ate it.

The first moment made her shudder, such a weird texture, then the flavour spread, almost sweet, kind of gingery, and every chew seemed to bring out more to taste.

“Oh, the faces you’re making,” Sammy said, tittering.

Feeling chided, Julie bowed her head and swallowed the food in her mouth. “It’s nice.”

Sammy reached over, giving Julie’s hand a squeeze. “I have had the good fortune to have tried many kinds of foreign foods through my childhood. How nice it is that, now, I can share some of those foods with you.”

Just like that, Julie’s embarrassment took on another meaning. She squeezed Sammy’s hand back. “It’s been nice trying them,” she said.

So the two went back to eating, soon finishing their bowls. For dessert, Sammy requested something a bit indulgent, a flicker of familiarity coming to Julie when she saw it.

“Chocolate tart with sweet cream,” Sammy said, serving a piece first for Julie, then for herself. “I’ll go light on the cream, but do add more if you would like.”

Julie couldn’t remember where exactly they’d seen chocolate before. Well, it didn’t matter. Carefully, she broke off a bit of tart and scooped it up with some cream, then popped it in her mouth. Rich at first, she quickly chewed, the flavour mellowing out as the chocolate and pastry mixed in. Sweet, but not sickeningly so.

“It appears that you like it,” Sammy said, softly smiling.

Julie nodded, smiling back. “It’s nice.”

“We shall have to learn to grow chocolate wherever we end up living,” Sammy said idly.

But that idle suggestion made Julie’s heart beat quick. It was easy for her to forget that, after their journey, there was a lifetime awaiting them. And it was easy for her to imagine what they would spend that lifetime doing, growing ever more flushed as she slowly ate her dessert.

Having spent most of the day at sea, neither was tired, so they stayed downstairs, drinking the Alfish equivalent of small beer—which translated to “table water” according to Sammy. It wasn’t too busy, but the other guests made up for it, drinking very merrily. Not too boisterous, though. Julie was thankful for Sammy’s good intuition on places to stay. From reading books, she’d once thought that every bar devolved into fights come night, but they’d yet to see anything like that. Arguments, threats, but no actual violence.

However, Julie was treated to a different first this evening.

A person pulled up a chair to their table. “A rose amongst weeds, what brings such a beautiful woman to these parts? Travelling with your brother?”

Of course, Julie knew nothing of what was said, only that a person was talking to Sammy. This person wasn’t too tall, somewhat muscled, hair short, and smiling. Something about that smile unsettled Julie.

As for Sammy, she offered a polite smile. “I did not understand. Do you speak Lapdosian, Formadgian, Sonlettian, Dworfen, Schtish, Gyaltese—”

The person showed a brief surprise, then smiled. “Yes, yes, a little, enough, yes,” they said, switching between the languages like Sammy had, but skipping over Dworfen.

“Schtish?” Sammy said. “That would be best since my wife speaks it too.”

“Schtish it is.”

It took Julie a moment to realise that the two had spoken in Schtish, then another moment to freeze up at Sammy so frankly mentioning her wife.

Pointless worrying, it turned out, the person missing that detail. “So, ah, beautiful woman, I am Ma Hilla. I work at guide for travellers.”

“Really? That is perfect, we would be more comfortable with a woman guide,” Sammy said, careful to speak in an easier-to-understand way now.

Not for the first time, Sammy’s words left both Julie and guest speechless.

Julie, knowing Sammy didn’t speak lightly, looked more closely at Ma. Just that Ma really did still look like a man to her. Ma’s voice wasn’t that deep, but it didn’t sound like a woman’s either.

After a long second, Ma switched to Formadgian and said, “My apologies, I think I didn’t understand correctly—could you repeat that?”

Faithfully translating, Sammy said the same thing in Formadgian.

Ma’s smile stiffened. “I’m a man,” they said, and Sammy noticed the deeper pitch put on.

“My apologies. But, do ignore the question if it is too personal, is it that you are a man or that you wish for us to refer to you as a man?”

The meaning of such a question wasn’t lost on Ma, no quick reply coming. Eventually, they said, “The latter.”

“Then my point stands: my wife and I would be more comfortable with you as our guide,” Sammy said, saying “you” with a lower pitch.

Again, that was not lost on Ma. However, they quickly had to forget that and be surprised by the first part: “You mean husband?”

Oh Sammy had been waiting for this moment, her smile equal parts mischievous and proud. Turning to Julie, she said in Schtish, “She is my wife.”

Suddenly brought back into the conversation by that statement, Julie tried to freeze up, but Sammy’s warm smile melted her until she shyly smiled back.

“She is my wife,” Sammy reiterated in Formadgian this time.

Ma’s turn, they said, “Oh.” But their surprise quickly broke into a grin, bringing up a fist to cover it. “Really? You are… wife and wife?”

“Yes,” Sammy said, then excused herself to catch up Julie on the conversation so far. Once she did, she turned back to Ma and spoke in Formadgian. “Would you be willing to guide us to the cathedral and then to a northern port? We can pay generously.”

Ma pretended to think it over before waving Sammy off. “Let’s talk money tomorrow. Tonight, I want to celebrate your marriage.”

Sammy giggled and whispered what Ma said to Julie. “Can we speak in Schtish, then?” she asked.

“Ah, yes, I am sorry I am not so good. We get not many travellers from… Schtit?”

“Schtat.”

“Yes, Schtat,” Ma said, nodding. Then they turned to Julie, getting a good look at who they’d thought was the beautiful woman’s little brother. “Ah, it is shame I am late—you like my look.”

After a moment to decipher, Sammy looked between the two with a slight frown. “Wait, were you… flirting with me?” she asked.

Ma laughed, a touch deep. “I flirt with every beautiful woman.”

Looking more closely at Ma, Sammy’s smile turned wry. “I am seventeen.”

Instantly, Ma froze, then they muttered numbers under their breath before asking in Formadgian, “Seventeen?”

“Yes,” Sammy said.

Ma’s face scrunched up in a wince, then they put on an apologetic smile, holding up their hands in surrender. Speaking in Schtish again, they said, “I am sorry. You look… mature, and I do not see many from the west.”

Sammy giggled, turning to Julie to try and share some of the humour, but only finding a very not amused wife. So she turned back to Ma. “If you do not mind, how old are you?”

Ma frowned, then said, “Twenty and nine? Yes, twenty and nine.”

“Then let us treat our older sibling to a drink,” Sammy said, using the Paschimi word for brother.

Trying not to wince again, Ma waved Sammy off. “No, no, if a young girl treat me, I am embarrassed. I buy a round.”

Showing another mischievous smile, Sammy said, “If you insist,” which left both Ma and Julie wondering if that had been Sammy’s plan all along.

While Ma was at the bar, Sammy squeezed Julie’s hand, leaning in to quietly ask, “Are you okay with them?”

Not expecting to be asked that, Julie took a moment to think. “I guess? It’s up to you.”

“You aren’t concerned?” Sammy asked.

“About what?” Julie replied, genuinely unsure.

And Sammy could hear that, having a little giggle. “I see.”

When Ma returned, they came with weak drinks, not wanting to subject the youngsters to anything that would get them drunk. But these drinks were stronger than the “table water” they’d already drunk, Julie almost tipsy once she finished the wooden cup.

“A fortunate meeting, let us have another in the morning,” Sammy said to Ma.

“…. Pardon?” Ma said.

Chuckling, Sammy stood up and helped Julie to her feet too, staying close after. “Good night. See you in the morning.”

“Ah, yes. Have fun,” Ma said, ending with a knowing smile.

The walk upstairs didn’t take long, sounds of good cheer growing muffled, the air cooler, thinner. Inside their room, Sammy walked Julie over to the bed. “Let us freshen up before we continue cuddling,” Sammy whispered, free hand combing through Julie’s hair.

“Okay,” Julie mumbled, letting go.

But Sammy didn’t move away, instead moved in front. Looking down, she saw the mild flush and hazy eyes and demure posture, felt her heart beat quicker. “You truly are weak when it comes to alcohol.”

Julie giggled, settling into such a sweet smile. “Not really. I just… don’t think so much.”

Sammy gave that sweet smile a peck. “You look so cute, I didn’t want anyone else to see you.”

Giggling again, Julie kissed Sammy back, arms looping around. “Really?”

“Really,” Sammy said, sealing her answer with yet another kiss.

It took them quite a long time to make it to bed that evening—a good start to their adventure in Alfen.