By the time they reached the city, the sun hung low in the sky, painting the sprawling skyline with a wash of amber and deepening shadows. The city's size struck Nathanael as impressive, a testament to its importance as a trade hub and its preparedness against outside threats. Towering walls encased the city, their sturdy construction speaking of years spent guarding against invasions or perhaps rebellions. At the gate, the same process repeated itself—inspection of their belongings, coin exchanged to secure entry—and soon enough, they found themselves within the bustling heart of the city.
The streets teemed with life. Vendors called out from their stalls, hawking goods ranging from simple wares to exotic trinkets, while townsfolk hurried by with baskets of goods, their chatter blending into the din of activity. Nathanael glanced at Amara, her eyes darting around with practiced ease, her expression unreadable.
"This place will do for the night," he said after a moment, his voice cutting through the hum of the crowd. "We need to talk, and it's better to do so somewhere private."
Amara tilted her head but didn't argue, though she smirked when he handed her a small pouch of gold coins. "Change of clothes, some supplies, maybe better equipment for camping or defense," he instructed.
She interrupted with a raised hand. "Not so fast. Lodgings first. I'm not about to wander this city with your gold and nowhere to return to."
He sighed but relented, nodding. Together, they wove their way through the streets until Amara's face lit with faint recognition. She stopped in front of an inn, its sign swinging gently in the breeze, etched with the words "Moonlight Inn."
"This place," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I stayed here before. Cheap, decent enough rooms, food that won't make you sick. It'll do."
They entered, the manager behind the counter sparing them little more than a glance. Nathanael was content with the lack of recognition—it was safer this way.
When it came time to arrange for their stay, Nathanael requested two rooms, his tone curt and businesslike. Amara, however, had other plans.
She sidled closer to the counter, her expression shifting into one of playful exasperation. "Two rooms?" she exclaimed, feigning disbelief. "How cruel, husband! Separating us so soon after our marriage?"
Nathanael froze, his stomach turning as she cast him a devious smile. The manager raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely adjusting the rate for a single room.
"Fine. One room," Nathanael muttered through gritted teeth.
When they reached their assigned room, a modest space with two small beds and a worn but clean rug, Amara burst into laughter, doubling over as she shut the door behind them. "You should've seen your face," she said between chuckles. "You looked like you were going to be sick."
He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You enjoy this far too much."
She grinned, dropping her bag onto one of the beds. "Well, you make it so easy. Now, what's this talk you mentioned?"
His demeanor shifted as he pulled out his map, spreading it across the small table in the corner of the room. "Here. Look," he said, gesturing to a marked point far south. "Horgzene. That's where I need to go."
Amara frowned, her brow furrowing as she examined the map. "That's far," she said. "Why?"
He leaned back in his chair, his tone measured. "After we reach your hometown, I'll leave you there. It's your home, after all."
She leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed, her expression hardening. "You know, there's a reason I did what I did," she said quietly. "If you leave me there, what do you think will happen? I'll just go back north, fall in with thieves, and deceive more people. Is that what you want?"
He looked up sharply, taken aback by the edge in her voice. "That's not what I—"
"All my family needs is food and money to survive," she interrupted. "That's all I've ever wanted to give them. Once they have that, my job's done. But..." She hesitated, her tone softening slightly. "I'm curious about this mission of yours."
Nathanael's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he spoke, his voice calm but resolute. "It's not just about food and money. I intend to liberate your hometown from the corrupt nobles who've forced your family into this position."
She stared at him, her skepticism clear. "Liberate it? You're one man. You're alone. How exactly do you plan to do that?"
"I have a way," he said simply, his confidence unshaken.
For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of his words settling heavily in the room. Then Amara sighed, shaking her head with a wry smile. "You're either very brave or very stupid. Probably both."
*****
The city proved a bounty of opportunity for both supplies and information. As Nathanael and Amara roamed the bustling streets, ears attuned to the whispers of merchants and travelers alike, a troubling thread of rumor began to emerge. It was said that the nobles of the central regions, restless and ambitious, were conspiring against the royal family. The upheaval was, perhaps, the reason for the heightened security along the northern borders—an effort by the crown to contain the chaos before it spilled into outright rebellion.
Their errands also took them to a government building, where they registered for identification cards. The process was mundane yet necessary, the weight of bureaucracy settling over them like an unwelcome but familiar cloak. By the time they returned to the inn, the day was waning, its light filtering dimly through the streets. The promise of rest loomed as a rare luxury.
That evening, they indulged in the simplest of pleasures—a proper bath, the first in what felt like weeks. The grime of their travels washed away, though the weight of unspoken plans lingered in the air. Clean and refreshed, they retired to their shared room, the silence between them both comfortable and contemplative.
By morning, they were on the road once more, leaving the city behind as the sun stretched over the horizon. The journey southward unfolded with a surreal fluidity—days melted into hours, hours into minutes, the monotony of the plains blending into a single blur. They traversed the vast central plains with surprising ease, their rhythm perfected by Amara's insistence on efficiency. By day, they walked; by night, they camped beneath a tapestry of stars.
The towns and cities they passed revealed similar murmurs to those heard in the first city. Talk of noble conspiracies spread like wildfire, each iteration more exaggerated than the last, but the core remained the same—discontent brewed within the heart of the central regions.
After days of travel, they arrived at an unremarkable town, its name lost to time or perhaps never bestowed at all. The sight of it stopped Amara in her tracks. Her wide eyes, usually so full of mischief, softened with recognition.
"This is it," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. "My hometown."
Nathanael regarded the town with a frown, his critical eye taking in its state. The place was little more than a collection of ramshackle buildings, their wood warped and splintered with age. The streets were uneven, strewn with dirt and refuse, and the townsfolk shuffled about in threadbare clothing, their faces etched with fatigue and quiet resignation.
"This place looks like a mess," he said bluntly, unable to mask his disdain.
To his surprise, Amara nodded. "I couldn't agree more."
The weight of her words pulled his gaze back to her. She looked at the town with a weary sort of familiarity, her shoulders stiff yet her expression guarded.
"Did you really live like this?" he asked after a moment, the question cutting through the heavy air.
She shook her head. "No. Not like this." Her voice hardened, though not with anger—more with the bite of old wounds reopened. "We used to have a store, and we were doing well for commoners. But then my father passed away, and everything fell apart. The government seized everything—our shop, our goods—and left us with nothing but an empty house."
Her gaze turned distant, her eyes fixed on some invisible point far beyond the dilapidated streets. "We managed to survive because we'd been poor before. But it didn't change the fact that the noble who governs this place has been bleeding the people dry, taking their money without cause or care. We had nothing left to give, but they still came for us."
Her words settled between them like an unwelcome guest, heavy with unspoken pain. Nathanael's jaw tightened as he looked back at the town. He had suspected corruption, but the sight before him was worse than anything he'd imagined. The deeper they ventured into the southern regions, the clearer the disparity became—civilization unraveling the further they strayed from the heart of power.
"So," she said at last, turning to him, her tone clipped. "What's your plan?"
He met her gaze, his expression unreadable but resolute. "Take me to your house," he said simply.
Amara hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Without another word, she began to lead the way.