Anjima was a country known for its theatrics and beauty. Despite bordering Tor, there was a significant cultural gap between the two, brought on mostly by Anjima's reluctance to participate in trade, instead cultivating a national identity based on self-sufficiency that imparted a kind of unapproachable attitude to its countrymen. Anjima was indeed a land of great natural wealth--renowned for its clothiers and jewellers. Due to its low volume of exports, it was perhaps the country Barion found himself visiting the least.
The wagon had rolled up from the southern shore along a highway that would corner it around to the west, where the mountain ranges encircled wide-open valleys used primarily for farming. In the back, a few barrels of dried meat and salt were secured with rope. Though he was most certainly alone at a glance, Barion appeared bothered by something, and if someone were to look closely, they would see strange undulations poking out from the edges of his shadow.
"Are you sure this is how you want to do it?" He asked, "Nobody's around. You can come out."
"I would prefer to acclimate myself to this sensation. It would benefit us both in the long term."
"Is it comfortable down there?"
"No."
"Just come up."
His hands clenched around the reins as something detached from his shadow and moved over to the passenger seat, taking corporeal form as a living creature of darkness. The tip of Fusala's hat, which nonetheless remained a part of her body, shook and bobbed in time with the wagon's rumblings.
"When will we reach Anjima?" She asked.
"In a few weeks, if the weather's good. Might take us a month otherwise."
"Have we stored enough provisions for the journey?"
"Do you even eat?"
"I require calories and nutrients just as much as any other living being." She answered, "It should be noted, however, that my digestive system is incapable of processing fruit in any form."
"Are you allergic?"
"No. Certain acids in the world's most common fruits interfere with the molecular structure of my body. I request that you do not attempt to feed me such things, even as a joke."
"Is that true? What's the crucial difference between, say, a vegetable and a fruit that you can eat the former but not the latter?"
"I believe the answer to that question would be wasted on you."
"I see Yamora's managed to rub off on you in some pretty important ways."
"Even so, I would like to express my gratitude for allowing me to accompany you on this trip." She reiterated matter-of-factly, "I believe part of my mother's final wish was for me to experience more of the world beyond the marsh."
"Just remember that most people won't treat you with as much tolerance as I have. Especially alchemists, if we come across any." Barion warned, "I don't mean to imply that you're a dangerous person, but drawing too much attention is more trouble than it's worth."
"I understand. I will conceal myself whenever the need arises."
"And, I'm sure you know this already, but we're travelling to Anjima in search of a Demon. It isn't a matter of whether the journey's going to be dangerous or not, but how long it's going to take before we're forced to fight. Not counting all the other dangers the world has to offer, of course."
"I am quite capable of defending myself."
"I don't doubt it. Just try to be careful."
Allowing Fusala to tag along with him was a natural progression to the strange relationship they'd already developed, but the voice in Barion's heart worried that the girl didn't have a full idea of just how dangerous the greater world could be. She would most certainly learn, in any case, but the question of whether she would survive to learn from those experiences was another matter. Especially since they were travelling to hunt down one of the most terrible threats plaguing the world.
Days and nights fell without incident, as they often did within Tor. Their first week together formed a critical foundation for Fusala's expectations. Barion had noticed that the girl had a vicious appetite, perhaps stemming from the extra energy used in her shape-changing powers, and had a particular taste for meat--raw, cooked or otherwise. As a creature, she seemed to toe the line between human and what would be called a 'monster', though he didn't allow that thought to reach his mouth at any point.
The existence of the alchemist's box Fusala had brought along with her made his bag of holding obsolete, though they continued to sort their personal inventories separately for the sake of convenience. With an abundance of alchemical tools and reagents safely contained within, it was possible for Fusala to brew and distil as she pleased during moments of rest. Whether she was a capable fighter or not, there were scarce few travellers who could afford to have a personal alchemist close at hand, even less so a student of Yamora.
Barion was a trader, but he was no cartographer, and as it turned out, Fusala was only as good at interpreting maps as he was. There was no telling when exactly the two of them had crossed the north-western border into Anjima--at least until one fateful day, when a dizzyingly large shadow slinked over the caravan.
"What the-" Barion recoiled.
Staring skyward, Fusala seemed less than perturbed, "It appears a dragon is above us."
The serpentine predators of Anjima, revered as Gods by its people, were unlike those that Barion had faced during the Demon King's reign. They had the appearance of flying snakes, rather than lizards, but those two monikers could not do either creature justice in a manner that befitted their status. With pale-white whiskers and graceful movements, it was no wonder that Anjima's variety of dragons carried with them an air of divinity. Indeed, it was as if an avatar of the Gods themselves had descended to keep watch over the world.
"They're a nice change of pace from Tiamat's dragons." Barion mused, watching the creature flying high above them, "This is my first time seeing one, though. I didn't think they were so common."
"They are not." Fusala corrected quickly, "It is said that the dragons of Anjima are only seen during times of great change. And, they are also known to be quite aggressive towards those who do not show them the proper respect."
"Times of great change, huh…" He muttered, "Somehow, that doesn't sound like a good thing."
"Perhaps it has arrived to welcome you, as the hero of legend."
"It's a few centuries too late for that."
As they spoke, the dragon turned in the air and hovered slowly towards the west. It was more than likely the strongest creature Barion had seen in hundreds of years, and yet the curse of heroism had sapped from him all of the wonderment that would have normally accompanied its visit. In any case, there was no greater indication that the two of them had reached Anjima.
"How do you plan to track down this Demon, Barion?" Fusala asked.
"We'll start at the capital, see what kind of trouble Anjima's having."
"Is it possible that the people are unaware of a Demon residing within their borders?"
"That was the case for Tor, so let's assume the same here, just to be safe."
Anjima was a country dotted with cloud-covered mountains firstly and verdant meadows secondly. Its low amount of correspondence with other nations made its political and economic climate difficult to gauge from an outsider's point of view. It was also the only member of the Holy Alliance unaffiliated with the Merchant's Guild, so the country suffered from unregulated black markets peddling illegal goods, though unlike Branda, slavery was condemned just as greatly as it was in Tor.
Shukora, the capital, was the seat of Anjima's emperor--a young boy, if Barion recalled correctly. Following the poisoning of his father by political enemies, his only son had the responsibility of a leader thrust upon him by tradition, but due to his inability to rule, the country was entrusted almost entirely to the boy's personal advisors. Although he was the current emperor, it could be said that when he came of age, the leadership of the country would shift yet again.
The wagon reached Shukora in a matter of days, where an engorged line of the country's distinctive caravans awaited entry into the city. The atmosphere of unrest was as plain as day.
"It appears the city is not currently allowing traders to enter." From within his mind, the voice of Fusala spoke, "What should we do?"
"I'm not sure. Let's leave the wagon behind for now and see what the guards have to say."
There weren't any objections from the traders further ahead in line as Barion began wandering towards the city gates, as most of them were embroiled in their own conflicts or setting up temporary camps to wait out the embargo. The guardsmen, who wore decorative rust-red armour, had already finished speaking to another group as he approached them.
"If you are here to ask about the embargo, I'm afraid we have received no word from the ministry of trade." The guard warned pre-emptively, "The emperor has decreed that no imports are to be allowed into the city."
"The emperor? I didn't think he'd have a say in it." Barion replied.
"Though young, the emperor's orders are final." He answered resolutely, "I apologise for the delay, but you will have to wait alongside the other caravans. We are attempting to hurry the situation along, but it may be a few days yet before you are allowed entry."
"Actually, I'm a member of the Merchant's Guild." Barion said, bringing out the emblem that proved his claim, "I know Anjima isn't affiliated with the guild, but this seems like the kind of situation that's best taken up with them. I could file a report to send back, but I'd need entry to the city."
"I'm sorry." The guard shook his head, "We can allow no exceptions. This is the emperor's decree."
"I see. No worries, then." He replied, pocketing the badge.
As Barion turned to return to the wagon, Fusala spoke up.
"Barion, I believe this is not the most efficient solution to the problem at hand." She declared, "There is no telling how long the emperor's decree will last, and we are on a mission of such grave importance that every second is worth saving."
"I know. I didn't really mean it when I said 'no worries'." He answered, "Naturally, we'll be trying to find another way into the city."
"Do you have a plan?"
"No." He was honest with her, "I was wondering if you did, actually."
"Hm." The girl paused, "Yes, I do. But it may prove unorthodox."