"I'm not sure that I heard you right, Quills," said Pilus Opaedes. "Did you just suggest that my men, that four entire tent groups of brave Remuran soldiers, valued men of the Eighth's Equine Centuria, ran away from only two bandits?"

  His glare twas such that Iarius was certain he knew the expected answer. That expected answer, of course, was "no, of course not." But Iarius knew as well that the answer the Pilus expected was not a true one.

  "I am suggesting," he said slowly, picking and choosing his words with the utmost care, "that trees can conceal many things, and that given the delay between arrows…"

  The hiss of sliding steel cut him off, and Iarius suddenly found himself staring down the tip of a sword, drawn by the Pilus and pointed directly at the scholar's neck.

  "My men are not cowards who would flee from only two outlaws," Opaedes growled.

  Iarius swallowed. "Of course not, sir," he said. "My mistake. Forgive me. I'm afraid I remain woefully uneducated in military matters."

  The Pilus continued to glare silently at him for a moment, and then, much to Iarius' relief, he withdrew his sword and sheathed it once more. "See to it you recall your ignorance before you speak out of turn again."

  "Yes, sir," said Iarius.

  Opaedes turned away from him, and Iarius hurried from his apartment.

  His face burned as he stepped out into the sun, and silently Iarius cursed himself for a fool. He had bought his freedom only three years ago and already he was growing impudent. It did not matter how correct or incorrect Iarius' suspicions may be. It only mattered that the Pilus had greater power than him, and so his pride came before the opinions of a servitus-turned-scholar such as Iarius.

  He walked the dirt roads of Paeliig, deep in thought. The savage town was only just beginning to see the fruits of the Empire's civilizing efforts. In time, Iarius knew, Remura would take more territory from the region—each of the three Northern kings who had signed the treaty had agreed to cede a part of their territory once they died. For now, however, Paeliig was their foothold in the Northern Lands, which would one day, stars willing, become the Paeliig Province of the Remuran Empire.

  Iarius had come here to make a name for himself. He wanted to study the Northern barbarians, learn of their culture and their nature, so that the Empire might benefit from this knowledge. He'd had dreams of bringing Imperial culture to these savages, of becoming a great hero of Remura and using his new fame and fortune to buy freedom for his family. So far, however, Iarius had been limited to maintaining a record of the Eighth Legion. It was surprisingly dull work; the soldiers' life was one more of drudgery than of glory.

  If there was a silver lining to his near-argument with Pilus Opaedes, it was this: Iarius could perhaps use the Pilus' dislike of him to argue for reassignment. Thus far, Magus Urapius had been reluctant to entertain Iarius' notions of studying the barbarians, but if his relationship with the Centuria was strained…

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Well, it was likely that the Magus would simply assign him to a different Centuria. But even that may be preferable to spending more time with the Equines. Iarius began walking to the administrative building, newly erected near the center of town, to speak with his superior in the Acadaemium.

  It was a busy day. The market was bustling as he passed it. Traders from all the provinces of Remura mingled with traders from the savage North, exchanging goods from not just their two territories, but even from lands as distant and far-off as Zy'Than, Anadesh, and Sithat Télun. Iarius did his best not to stare at the Northerners, with their strange garb, their unshaven beards, and their strangely light skin. Growing up as a son of the Megarias Province, Iarius had always thought himself pale, but that was before he'd first laid eyes upon the Northern barbarians and their snow-like flesh. He sometimes wondered if his hand would simply pass through them like mist should he press it against them hard enough.

  Past the shouts and cries of merchants and the arguments of hagglers, Iarius came upon the main street. It was thus far the only street of Paeliig which had been paved by Imperial engineers, and he was grateful for the sturdy bricks beneath his feet. He walked with horses and carts and other pedestrians as he made his way toward the administrative building.

  "Pardon, sir, but I fear I may be lost."

  The voice belonged to a woman, and when Iarius turned his head to find the speaker, he was surprised to see that the woman in question was a Northern barbarian who rode upon a black horse. A sword hung at her side, and she was dressed in dark leathers, down to the gloves that adorned her hands. The clothing obscured her figure, but even so Iarius could tell she was borad-shouldered, and powerfully built. Her hair was a vibrant red, but it was her eyes, more than anything, which gave Iarius pause. They were golden, with black slitted pupils. Something about them put Iarius in mind of a reptile.

  "You are lost?" he managed.

  The barbarian woman looked down on him with a slight smile upon her lips. "I am a mercenary," she explained. "I've come here for work. The guards at the gate directed me to an administrative building, and told me to speak with the Prefect there."

  Iarius nodded. "It is down this road, miss. I am on my way to that building myself."

  Her smile became fuller. "How fortunate!" she exclaimed. "Would you be so kind as to accompany me? I am unfamiliar with your Remuran customs, and I do not wish to offend anyone who might give me decent work."

  His first instinct was to decline. There was a sense of danger about this woman, and her eyes—surely those were unnatural, even by barbarian standards. Iarius glanced about as they talked, and could not help but notice most of the Northerners on the street gave her a wide berth. And yet, there was a curiosity within him. Certainly, he had never met a woman such as this in Remura, and if the Northerners avoided her, then surely it was because they recognized something within her.

  "Of course, miss," said Iarius. "I am Iarius, a scholar of the Acadaemium of Remura. I would be delighted to walk with you and answer any questions you may have about our empire. All I ask in return is that you answer any questions I may have as well."

  "A scholar?" asked the woman. "I suppose you must have many questions for me, then. Yes, Iarius the Scholar, I accept your terms."

  Despite himself, and despite the danger he felt in this woman's presence, Iarius could not help but smile. Even if his questions bore no fruit, he at least was confident he might enjoy this conversation. "Then allow me to ask my first question: what might your name be?"

  "Nessalir," said the woman. "My name is Nessalir."