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The light of the twin suns above pierced the canopy of the wagon like daggers as Ryker and Aaron were cooked in its heat, the sweat pooling in their ragged clothes. The sweaty duo passed a waterskin back and forth between each other as they attempted to fight off the heat of the plains. Ryker swatted at a fly-like creature buzzing around his head as Aaron scouched closer to a small clay jug nearby in an attempt to cool off. Ryker looked out at their escorts, the direct heat of the two suns seemingly unable to phase them; the two anurians deep in conversation as their charges were slowly baked alive.

 “Ugh,” Ryker groaned in annoyance, “How much longer do we have to deal with this damn heat? It's been hours!”

 Silver’ok looked back at him with a stern look, having grown slightly annoyed at the boy’s inability to handle the heat; the twin suns had only crested the sky recently, and they were only going to climb in temperature as the trip went on. He shook his head, and turned forwards away from them. Anjali poked her head through the gap in the covers, not a single bead of sweat gracing her head. 

 “Pretty soon actually,” she said, “within the next few treves.”

    

“You say that as if we even know what a treves is, you clearly speak english, why don’t you just say hours or minutes,” Ryker asked irate, “Or any other normal measurement?”

“English? Is that the language you hear us speaking?”

“Well yeah,” Aaron responded between pants, “What other language could you be speaking?”

“It's not ‘English’ we’re speaking, young one,” Silver’ok finally spoke. He stretched his arms around his head in a bored manner, a yawn escaping his lips. “To us we’re speaking Disian.”

“What do you mean, ‘to us’? Are you somehow speaking two different languages at once?”

“In a way,” Anjali said. The Anurian sat up and plopped herself at the portal between the outside of the cart and the driver’s carriage and stuck out her tongue. A small set of silver colored tattoos lined the surface of it, a soft blue glow slowly fading from them, the runes were shaped like a set of half squares stacking over one another, as though emanating from her throat and centered on her tongue. Surrounding the main rune were a variety of six smaller runes that to Ryker looked like incomprehensible squiggles, one near the very tip of her tongue was glowing more with more intensity than the others. She brought her tongue back into her mouth after the boys got a good look at their explanation, having no idea still as to how it explained anything.

“They’re called Translation runes,” Anjali explained while wiping her mouth of saliva, “It's a form of passive magic designed to get around language barriers. It takes the vibrations of my languages, and using its imprint of other languages it is able to automatically translate my words into yours without me having to learn your language myself. Sometimes though, there are words that don’t always translate cleanly, or we’re lacking the vocabulary for it. So our own language passes through in those cases.”

“Wow,” the boys said. Aaron’s eyes were filled with wonder at the spell, while Ryker just looked more apprehensive. Anjali chuckled at Aaron’s face, a small smile hiding behind her hands.

“That's quite a convenient spell I suppose.” 

“Agreed, it makes traveling through foreign lands effortless.” Anjali turned back around and was about to sit back besides Silver’ok, when she heard Ryker mumble something to himself, she stopped and turned back. Ryker looked back up at her, a question on his lips.

“If that magic requires you to have a language imprinted on it, how could English be-?” Ryker was cut off by the wagon coming to a sudden stop, sending him and Aaron forward. Anjali turned back towards the entrance to see what the commotion was about.

“Anjali,” Silver’ok said sternly, “Grab the trade documents and get back up here. There's a checkpoint up ahead.”

“Right, I'll do so now.” Anjali moved past the boys and grabbed a small, brown, leather journal from a wooden box near the wagon’s entrance. She swung back around, passing a Ryker with skepticism in his eyes. She ignored it for now, dealing with the more pressing issue up ahead. She handed the journal to Silver’ok and took her place beside them. 

Ahead of the wagon lay a small caravan of other traders, all of which were attempting to enter the Village of Kree. Two hills with a valley in between blocked the entrance to the village, and in front of that a small stream meandered its way around both lumps of earth; a small ancient looking black bridge crossing into the valley, its coloring having nearly faded away into near gray. Cresting the hill was a small wooden watch tower, guarded by two archers, looking down at the passing wagons and travelers; their helmets glaring down into the sun made them hard to miss. A metal ladder was bolted onto the side of the steep hill, connecting the bridge with the tower. Both structures did not match the styling of the bridge, the tower seemingly hastily built out of leftover wooden planks left lying about, the construction just good enough to keep from toppling over in the breeze, and the ladder just barely hanging onto the walls of the valley, its rusty bolts wanting desperately to fail. On the old bridge itself were 3 soldiers, two carrying spears and another in rune clad half-plate armor looking over the caravan’s documents. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his armor doing him no favors of keeping him cool, and waved the caravan on through; their papers were all in order.

The group’s singular wagon was next, the commander waved them up to the bridge and stopped them just short of its threshold. The rune cladded guard strutted up to the wagon in a routine manner, as though he’d been doing this same job for decades. His drooping eyes did a once over the occupants as his spear wielding guardsmen looked over the rest of the wagon. He stretched his arms over his head, straining the metal of his armor, before swinging them back down to his sides with an exasperated yawn.

“You got lucky, you’re the last caravan we’re letting into the village today,” he said, bored with his routine, “Which means the faster I'm done with you, the faster I get to go to sleep. So then, documents and registration please?”

Anjali handed the leather bound journal to the guardsman. She smiled a soft grin as the soldier looked through the group's papers with a bored expression; he paused on one page though and looked up from the book with a more invested gaze than before.

“You four are heading to the city of Domish, is that correct?”

“That's correct,” Anjali spoke with cadence, “we’re transporting some crates of wine from Yneora all the way to Gallien. We’re just stopping here for a spot of rest, our boys in the back are getting quite irritable after being cooped up in the carriage for all this time.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, I was hoping someone was going to be passing through there soon!” The soldier spoke with a newfound giddiness, his two underlings staring at him as they continued to poke around the caravan, this time making their way into the back to check out its contents.

“Can you wait right here for one onis,” the runned guardsman asked, “I have something I want you to deliver.”

“Certainly,” Silver’ok agreed, slapping the seat of the carriage, “What do you need us for?”

The guards overlooking the caravan poked their heads into the flaps of the wagon. A cheap looking leather helmet obscured most of his face, but the boys could tell he was doing them a once over; Ryker’s sweat was no longer solely caused by the heat as he did his best to not look out of place, subtlety adjusting his head scarf to ensure his ears remained hidden, Aaron did the same, also trying to not look guilty. He scanned over the contents of the wagon, shouting its contents over to his partner who was currently checking the underside of the wagon. Ryker couldn’t understand them, but the guard seemed satisfied as he nodded his head to the boys and withdrew from the canopy. 

 “I have a letter I want you to give to someone in the city,” he eagerly responded, “She’s my sister and we haven’t spoken since I was assigned this post.”

 “Sister huh, can’t you just send one of your messengers to deliver it?”

 “I would if I could! But those damn conglomerates keep intercepting many of our messengers and convoys. It’s the reason I'm stationed out here in the first place!”

 “I’m sorry to hear that,” Silver’ok said, trying to avert his eyes, “They haven’t been attacking trade caravans, have they?”

 “Only one that I know of, and it was recent too. Somewhere down south, in the Cos woods apparently. We have orders to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious traveling along these roads.”

 “Aye, and the Army has been doing a wonderful job with that! Our journey has been relatively peaceful this entire time! Not even the Fae bothered us,” Silver’ok laughed a guttural laugh as he took back the journal from the guard, his eyes not betraying his lie. The guard then disappeared up the hill as he scampered up the ladder into the rickety tower. The two Anurians let out a small sigh of relief that they would make it into the village safely. The guard quickly returned, however, his chainmailed gloved hand holding onto a letter sealed with a yellow wax seal. The other guards joined him at the front, their spears at their sides stiff as the tower above them as they completed their report.

 “Looks like everything is in order,” the main guard said, “Here, please give this to my sis: Toriala in the city once you arrive,” he handed Silver’ok the letter, the captain gingerly taking it with a smile before placing it into the leather bag along with the journal.

 “Won’t be a problem whatsoever; where does she stay?”

 “She’s actually the main weapon smith of the garrison in Domish, but knowing her once she gets a whiff of that wine you got she’s gonna find you.” The guard chuckled to himself thinking his drunkard of a sister, we wiped a tear from his eye and continued, “when you do see the old girl, tell her that her younger brother Yswold really misses her.”

 “Aye, don’t worry. We’ll take care of it for you!”

 “Oh, and one more thing,” Yswold suddenly said. He rummaged around the pocket of his trousers for a moment before pulling out a small pouch. Pulling out seven hexagonal gold coins, he gave them to Anjali who accepted them without hesitation. “Early payment for the delivery. Thank you once again. You’re all set to go.”

 With that, Yswold gave the all clear to the guards still in the tower. The glint from their crossbows disappeared behind the battlements, although the glare of their helmets still rained down on the group. Silver’ok thanked the guards for their service once again, and urged the horses over the black cobblestones of the bridge, the ride getting considerably more bumpy as they passed over century old potholes. 

 Ryker and Aaron looked at each other with relief. The heat of the suns seemingly more bearable than the heat of stress. Ryker scratched under his headscarf, relieving his tension as he stared out the back of the Wagon. The guards and their shack of a tower getting further and further away, Ryker finally relaxed for a moment; and in this brief respite, failed to notice a singular violet leaf become dislodged from the wheels of the wagon, and gently blow its way to the feet of the guards they left behind.

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