Episode 50: Faster than Expected

Bolin

We urged our horses to a trot, though the added bouncing became uncomfortable for Patrick. Switching between walking and trotting worked well both for the beasts and our backsides. Neither of us had much experience with them, which was humorous considering the Northern Clans were renowned for their bulky Snow Draft breed, while Damai had the largest number and most lineages.

These animals primarily served nobles and royalty, but the richer merchants used them instead of oxen. Wealthy working-class individuals sometimes bought them for long journeys, as we just did.

We slowed to a walk.

“I wish the rural roads had mile markers like the city ones,” I complained.

Patrick barked out a laugh. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Large carts with various wares from the western Astralini towns plodded to our left. We overtook several on-foot traveling groups, while a couple of riders in black raced past in the mid-afternoon.

My stomach rumbled, and the leather rubbing against my legs and rear all day hurt. Why didn’t the fellow who sold the horses warn about impending blisters?

“Let’s stop at the next inn for a hot supper,” Patrick said.

He’d gone pale, and I feared for his pain levels.

“Yes. Just hope we don’t get a Keruleni cook, or the spice will make us run to the pots.”

A smirk lit his tired features. “I’ve got an iron gut. If I recall, it was you who struggled with the breaded chilis.”

I shuddered. How he ate those little strips of vether on a stick and didn’t have gastric distress was beyond me.

“Bland is underrated,” I teased with a wink.

“Travelers ahead,” he warned.

I noticed just as he spoke. Both wore dark cloaks. The tall, thin one on the right limped, while the other carried a pack on his back and in his hands.

When we got closer, we prodded the horses to trot.

“Passing to your left,” Patrick called out so we wouldn’t startle them.

Too late. They both jumped out of their skins. The injured peasant ripped off her hood, and light gray-blue eyes I knew all too well locked with mine.

“Bolin?”

My jaw nearly dropped, but I focused on stopping my mare and getting to the ground as fast as possible instead.

Stella

I gaped at Bolin while Eric shielded me with his body before he realized who they were.

“What are you doing here?” My voice pitched higher than I intended.

“I didn’t expect to catch up when we followed you. We thought you borrowed horses.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Eric said tersely.

I rounded my companion and threw my arms around Bolin. Between the anxiety of leaving, the discomfort of my boots, and feeling utterly lost, having him here made my eyes dampen. He returned the embrace, though he pulled away too soon.

“Don’t go to Damai.”

“What?”

Eric swore in Celestia. “Really? I won’t let you ride up on your fancy mares and tell me what we can and can’t do!”

“You’ll thank us later,” Patrick interrupted. “When you realize we saved your lives.”

I recoiled.

“My homeland is strict,” Bolin explained. “Foreigners receive no special treatment. If you break a law, they’ll carry out punishment, regardless of if you knew about it or not.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Every kingdom is like that. And we’re smart enough to not become criminals.”

Bolin crossed his arms and looked him up and down with a narrowed gaze. “Touch a woman who’s not your wife? You’d lose a finger. What you’re wearing is inappropriate attire for a male in public, which is punishable with a fine if you have the gold or a flogging if you don’t. Do you carry Damaian coins? Picking up an item and then offering to pay with foreign currency is considered stealing. The consequence ranges from a brand on your shoulder to amputating your entire hand. Shall I continue?”

My stomach roiled.

Eric stood silent for a moment. “If that’s true, why isn’t this common knowledge?”

“How many Damaians have you met?” Patrick interjected. “Because of the mountainous region, entering and exiting Damai is only possible in the High North Pass and the Midland Trail. They’re the most secluded civilization in the known world.”

If I’d eaten recently, I’d have puked. Excitement at seeing my friends had turned to despair. How would we influence politics if we couldn’t survive complicated societal expectations?

Eric considered this new information, his jaw flexing. “Does that mean you’ll come with us?”