They spoke as they walked, or rather rode in the barbarian woman's circumstance. Nessalir asked Iarius what protocols should be observed upon meeting the Prefect, and Iarius assured her that no Remuran would expect her to understand their etiquette, but that she might impress the Prefect by placing her left hand over her heart and bowing her head when greeting him.

  "That is well to know," said Nessalir. "And now I suppose you must ask me a question, and I suspect it may regard my eyes."

  Iarius had indeed been wondering how best to broach the subject. "I must confess, I have never in my life seen eyes such as yours. Are they common in the Northern Lands?"

  Nessalir laughed. "Not hardly! My eyes mark me as an outsider, and they are far from the only such mark upon my person." She reached up to her neck, pushed aside her braided red hair, and pulled down the collar of her clothing. Iarius' eyes widened at the sight of the crimson scales which grew from her flesh.

  "I am a drakkowar," said Nessalir. "Are you familiar with the word?" When Iarius confirmed he was not, she continued: "It means I am the child of a human and dragon's coupling. My eyes and my scales are an inheritance from my father. As is my tail."

  "Tail?" asked Iarius, and he was shocked to see the thin red tail in question snake up from where it had lain coiled behind her.

  "Go to the favored taverns and halls of us Northerners, and you may hear stories of a mercenary called Nessalir the Red. I am she."

  Iarius coughed. "I admit," he said, "I am taken by surprise. I had heard tales of such dragonmen—we call them virem draconem in Remura—but I had never imagined I would meet one, much less that the virem in question should be a barbarian woman."

  "Few ever do expect to meet one such as me," said Nessalir, and Iarius struck by the smile she wore when she spoke those words. It was one of good humor, with a hint of pride, and yet lurking behind it he could have sworn he saw a deep and very old sorrow.

  "Have you ever met another like you?" he asked.

  "No," said Nessalir. "No, I have not. But tell me of yourself, Iarius. "What sort of life does a Remuran scholar live?"

  "A humble one, I suppose. I was born a servitus in the Megarias Province, and saved enough to buy my freedom from my master. From there, I traveled to Domus to study in the great Imperial cities: Tibus and Cleiastis and Remur. I spent a year apprenticed to an archivist in Tibus before I was accepted into the Acadaemium. I only arrived Paeliig last month, assigned to serve as an Historian and document the activities of the Eight Legion."

  "You were a slave?" asked Nessalir.

  "I was," Iarius confirmed. "It is my hope that I might earn enough to purchase my parents' freedom as well. They donated their extra wages to their children so that we might have a head start on buying our futures." He smiled, and felt pride well up within himself. "Long I have labored to become a scholar. As a lad, I would while away my nighttime pouring over scrolls and tomes within my master's library. I have achieved that which few even born free have not."

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  It was then that noticed that Nessalir was looking upon him with horror. "What is it?" he asked.

  "I cannot imagine a child being forced into slavery," she said. "Is such a thing common in Remura?"

  "Of course," said Iarius, confused. "Serviti parents beget serviti children. Such children begin working toward their freedom as soon as they are able, and when we are freed, we do so understanding the value of our labor and how to care for ourselves. Do you not have serviti in the North?"

  "We have life debts," said Nessalir. "But such a debt is served only for a year and a day. If a man bests another man in formal combat, the loser may swear such a debt in exchange for his life. He serves the victor for the duration, and then he walks away a free man. Sometimes a jarl may allow a killer to swear a life debt to his victim's kin if he cannot pay their blood price. They are common in the aftermath of war as well." She shook her head. "But a child cannot swear a life debt, nor can such a debt be inherited. I had heard tell of the horrors of Remuran slavery, but never would I have imagined any people could practice such cruelty."

  "Cruelty?" Iarius was shocked that anyone could look upon Remuran laws as cruel. Harsh, perhaps. Tough, of course. But cruel? He had known the Northern barbarians were uncivilized, but this was beyond any of his mental preparations.

  He would have challenged her on her assertion—or at least he liked to think he would have—but before he could say anything more, Nessalir pointed ahead. "Is this the building you told me of?"

  Iarius followed the direction of her finger. She gesturing toward a large square structure, composed of many smaller structures upon a raised plaza, and surrounded by a wall of white columns. Great stone steps lead upward to the many offices the structure held.

  "That it is," Iarius confirmed. "The administrative building. I am given to understand that construction finished only a short time before I arrived."

  "It is a unique building, I shall say that. Never before have I seen such a structure."

  Iarius laughed. "The stonework? Or the columns? These sorts of buildings are common in Remura, and every administrative building is designed off the same plans as well, so that visitors and officials from across the Empire never get lost in one. It is the same with our Legion's camps: they are always set up in the same pattern, so that any soldiers moved between Legions always know where they are."

  "I suppose such practices only make sense, when one is running an empire," Nessalir muttered. "I thank you, Iarius, for escorting me here. Which office belongs to the Prefect?"

  "The first one on the right."

  "Then this is where we part ways."

  "It is," Iarius agreed, and he smiled. His previous annoyance at her barbaric ignorance was forgotten. Despite her Northerner shortcomings, Iarius had found Nessalir a fascinating conversation partner. His eyes once again roamed over her tail and the scales upon her neck, and he mentally went over how best to describe her in his History.

  "I wish you luck, Nessalir the Red," he told her as he began climbing the stairs. Nessalir dismounted her horse and began leading the beast to the nearest post. "Welcome to the Remuran Empire."