To be fair, Asher probably shouldn't have said what he did. Of course, to be fair, the refugee shouldn't have punched him in the gut. Fair is fair.

Capstone Inn: a refugee inn on the border. With the war in Sevitel, Capstone was well past its' capacity. Asher could see it from a mile away; people were even sleeping in the stables. Unfortunately, he had nowhere else to turn to. His food was almost gone, and he hadn't really thought to bring any gear to set up camp. He'd assumed that he'd walk by day, and stop at Inns or friendly households by night.

Of course, this idea had been put into place just after he set out from home, and just after the war in Sevitel exploded. Now, with Sevitians clogging the major roads near the border, Asher shuddered at the thought of another night inside. But he didn't really have much of a choice.

At least the place was clean. Obviously the Inn's owner prided himself on keep the tavern nice and proper. Everything from the cups to the decorations had a squeaky clean feel to them. That is, the decorations that still hung on the walls: most had been removed due to excessive overcrowding. The nails where the paintings sat and the empty display shelves were all to apparent to Asher's trained eye. At least the people had the good sense to keep the noise to a manageable level. The night was still young, after all, and there was only so much alcohol to go around.

He took a spot at the bar, narrowly beating out a dozen others. "Give me something strong and mature, if you can spare it. Otherwise I'll take anything you have that isn't rotgut." The barkeep nodded, almost overwhelmed, and staggered off with a dozen plates balanced across his body.

The man beside Asher grunted. He was a large fellow, with more than a little bit of extra weight. "Poor bastard. Rough night for him."

"Aye," said Asher. "But his pockets will be full tomorrow, at least."

"True enough." The big man turned to face Asher, then. "I've not seen you 'round here before. Are you new in town?"

Asher glanced around momentarily. "No...no, not exactly. I've been this way before. I'm only here for the night, anyway." He broke off as a woman came up to the big man and wrapped her arm around his. "Who's this, darling?" His wife, then. Or lover, at least. And yet...

"I don't know, myself. What's your name, stranger?"

"I'm called...Edgar. Edgar Thyne." Asher didn't exactly trust the man. After all, they'd only just met. "Is this your wife?"

The man beamed. "That she is! This is Moira, my darling woman." He kissed her heartily on the cheek.

She giggled and returned the affection, but Asher noted the flash of annoyance in her eyes, and the stiffening in her bare arms for that fraction of a second. Without thinking, he blurted, "You two are quite the couple. You must have been so happy together."

The big man glanced his way. "What d'you mean by that, 'have been'?"

Asher's blood chilled. He'd done it again. Emerson had warned him time and again to think before he spoke. "Well, I...erm...nothing, just a slip of the tongue."

The man fixed a terrifying glare at him. "I don't think so. You have something to say, so spit it out."

There was no other course of action, unfortunately. Asher steeled himself, praying to whichever of the gods might be listening, then continued. "Well, it's just...she doesn't exactly love you anymore, does she?" He quickly amended, "At least, not as much as she once did."

Moira the wife stiffened in her husband's arms, and her eyes flashed across the room. Asher's eyes followed hers, and another, more muscular man came into view. He was certainly dressed as though he expected something steamy that night.

The big man's face contorted in shock, then rage. "You've got some nerve, you bastard. Don't you dare impugn the honor of my Moira!" He raised a fist, and Asher flinched back. He knew how to handle a sword, and a knife, and a hunting bow, but he had none of those things with him, and the man was twice his sized.

"Wait!" Asher cried desperately. "Wait! Over there." Asher pointed at the other man, who blanched and fled, but not before the big man had seen him.

The man whirled on his wife, his face twisting into horrible rage. "You promised, Moira! you promised never again! How could you? I trusted you, whore!" The room slowly fell to quiet as the tirade continued, this time from Moira.

"Don't you dare to call me that, Richard! I would never, and frankly I'm horrified you could even think that of me!" She pushed him lightly with one hand.

Richard peeled back in fury. "You bitch!" he hissed. "Don't try to point this as my fault! I know what your games are, and I won't be fooled by you again!"

The argument continued to rage, rising in speed, anger, and loudness. Asher felt compelled to try and right the wrong. "Richard, sir, please. Be reasonable with your--"

Richard's fist drove into Asher's stomach, pushing all the air from his lungs. "You've done enough! You've ruined us, you have. What right did you have? You couldn't have kept your mouth shut?" Another fist was raised.

Asher straightened slowly, truly looking over the man for the first time. He would pay for what he'd done. "Alright, Richard," he hissed. "Your wife doesn't love you anymore because you're a spineless drunk who's more worried about losing her than making her happy. You spend so many nights here that it's a wonder she hasn't left you altogether. You have nothing to say for yourself that will make you in the right, especially because you have a mistress of your own!" The last part was a guess, but it was an educated one. When Richard had discovered his wife's affair, his first reaction had been confused surprise, not anger.

Richard's mouth gaped. "How did you--" then he noted his wife's anguished expression, and in his rage he turned to the one man who had ruined his entire night, and embarrassed him in front of three dozen people. "I'll make you pay!" He leapt forward, and Asher's life flashed before his eyes.

Well, he'd go down fighting. Fists up, guarding the body. Turn in sideways to eliminate points his enemy could hit. Wait for it...

"ENOUGH!" Suddenly the barkeep was there. And, suddenly, both Asher and his assailant looked very very small. The bartender was absolutely massive. At least six and a half feet, with not an ounce of fat on his body. "Richard, get out. I want no part of your shenanigans. Stranger, you're going back to your room. Now. You paid for it, you get it. Get."

The man didn't even have to finish speaking before Asher nodded gratefully, relieved to still have all his bones, and practically sprinted up the stairs. He pushed into his room, slammed the door, and sank down on his bed. There was no bolt, but he could barricade it with something at least.

When his pulse slowed, he eventually took in the room around it. It was small, but cozy, with two windows, a fireplace, and a pair of beds. Asher sighed as he realized that he'd have to share the room with another. "Just my luck." He settled back down on his own bed, still trying to calm his racing mind.

Three years ago, Johanna worked without much confliction in her shop, The Red Palace in Ciola, the capital city of Sevitel. That was three years ago. Crowne Princess Athelia Talone-Asici ascended the throne after her late father, King Altyr. She became Queen after his passing, and that is when the civil war began.

Thomas Prevot served under Altyr as his High Chancellor while Altyr ruled Sevitel. Both Altyr and Thomas cooperated with one another, Thomas felt that he could help the King and the people of Sevitel, and he did. Many laws, laws that were fair and promoted equality were passed under Altyr's rule. However, one law had not passed. Athelia had proposed the law, it allowed women to exit marriages without consequences or fear of persecution. The law would allow them to inherit their husband's land, as long as she had children, could she inherit the land. The law currently in place bans women from inheriting the land on which their husband owned, and would be passed onto to the next male in the husband's family.

Upon hearing Athelia's request at the proposal of the law, Altyr believed his daughter to be too young to understand politics. Women's interests should focus on the domestic life, not the political. Thomas agreed readily with his king, if women were granted such power, they wouldn't even know how to handle it. Before Athelia's proposal, Thomas viewed Athelia as a beautiful woman, educated and even charismatic. He respected her, and carried on polite conversations, or even debates about domestic situations with the younger Athelia. Yet when she made the proposal for her father to pass the edict, Thomas began to view her as a threat. If she could think of something as liberal at that, surely other thoughts like that would grow within her mind. Athelia was capable of upsetting the balance in Sevitel.

And she did.

Fourteen months into her reign, Thomas began to speak out against Athelia. He did it quietly though. By paying young men, early in their youths, large amounts of coin to spread the word of Athelia destroying Sevitian traditions and society. These youths brought large crowds, and they targeted the poorer areas of Sevitel, in the slums where the commoners lived and work. It began to spread like an infectious disease, the people were moved by suggestion alone. Ten months later, a riot took place in the capital city. Hired thugs from other provinces hired by Thomas and angry townspeople filled the White-stone district in Ciola. Buildings were razed and vandalized. Two-hundred and sixty-four people were slaughtered. The White-stone district housed the wealthier merchants and traders.

Johanna lived in the lower district where the commoners and lower-income traders resided. She chose the location on purpose. When word began to spread in her section about the riot, she begged Thalien and Chezaré to stay with her for the night. They relented after many hours of her prolonged begging. Thalien's shop was raided, the windows were smashed and looted. Thankfully he kept a safe that was too large, and too intricate to move nor pick. The safe contained the most valuable jewels of his merchandise.

Chezaré lived in the elegant Polished Shield Inn, board was granted to him for free due to his royal position. The inn burned down during the riot as villagers took torches to the wooden insides of the structure.

After the riot took place, it took about two months before reports of commoners raiding houses of the noble and slaughtering them without mercy. This was all Thomas' doing, he fed the fire. Johanna became aware that there were people following her home at night from her shop. One night, a man had grabbed her and pulled her into a dark alleyway. She scuffled with him for a short time before slipping out of his grip.

A week after the incident in the alleyway, Johanna asked Thalien to escort her home each night. She didn't feel safe venturing out after dark alone.

A month had passed, and Johanna could feel her nerves calming from the anxiety of the attack in the alley. That lasted until she found a piece of paper tacked to her shopfront door: Feeble Wench, I'll cut thee wide. That was two weeks ago. After receiving the note, Johanna went to Thalien and asked him to loan his steed to her so that she may flee Sevitel for the safety of Enrimor who had welcomed their doors to refugees.

---

'That was two weeks ago...' Thought Johanna as she rode Serwyn in the dark through a large clearing. Farther up the path, she could see the lights of an inn. The thought of resting her weary travelled body appealed to Johanna. As she drew nearer to the inn, Johanna became aware of the swarming group of refugees that slept outside, and from what she could tell, in the stables as well.
'Not again...' Johanna grumbled to herself when she dismounted. A young boy, no older than twelve approached her.

"Miss, may I take your horse?" The boy was covered in dirt with disheveled hair and a worn red tunic.

"Are you the stable boy?" Johanna asked in a flat, and harsh tone. He flinched at her sharp words but nodded readily.

"I'm my father's boy, miss." He pointed a hooked thumb over his shoulder, indictating that his father was either the barkeep or the owner of the inn. It mattered not to her. She handed the leather reins over to him and slipped a copper pence into his palm as she did so. He clenched the piece hard, and looked up at Johanna in astonishment. Winking at the lad, she brushed past him and stepped into the tavern.

The inn was overcrowded, a patron filled every available chair, and some were forced to stand. The smell of tobacco and roasting meat filled the air. She found her way to the bar and took a seat upon the stool. The atmosphere seemed to be swimming with tension. Glancing about her, she could tell that something hostile had occurred moments before her entry. The barkeep had his back to her as he filled mug after mug full of ale. When he turned she grabbed him by the elbow, forcing his attention on her.

"Ay, miss. What do you think you're doin'?" His brow began to knit together in annoyance. With her free hand, Johanna reached into her coin purse that was hidden in a fold of her dress. She slid two gold coins across the hewn tabletop.

"Give me a room." She demanded, and none too politely either. At first, the barkeep stared her down in growing anger before setting down one mug of ale to free his hands. He reached under the counter top and slid her an iron key.

"Here's your room. House is at full capacity, no more complainin' lest I throw thee out." With that, he picked up the mug he had set down and disappeared into the throng of people.

Standing outside the room that was hers for the night, Johanna slid the key into the lock and opened the door. Upon opening the door, Johanna started in surprise. There was a man in her room. Seconds passed before Johanna moved into the room, and set her satchel upon the unoccupied bed. Then, she took a seat on the bed, and stared at the man that sat upon the other bed, as if she were studying him. He had dark hair and a goatee of sorts, along with dark eyes.

Suddenly, Johanna extended her hand towards him and spoke, "Name's Johanna. Touch me, and I'll stick a blade in your throat."

It seemed that he could get no rest. Only moments after his calm cautiously returned, the door swung open. He jumped, sure that he was about to have to fight. He relaxed, slightly, when a woman stood in at the door. Perhaps she was a serving girl.

Then she entered, and alarm once again swept into his mind. She was his room-mate. Oh, gods. He tensed up as she sat on the other bed. I know that there's not a lot of room, but surely I could have been paired with a man.

Her name was Johanna. An interesting name. Quite pretty, in fact. What wasn't as pretty was the threat. And the dozen more he could see boiling in the back of her mind. After a few moments of cautious preparation, he reached out and gingerly took hold of her hand. "Nice to meet you, miss. I'll keep my hands to myself tonight, don't you worry. My name is Asher. Asher Thyne." If she knew his name, he reasoned they'd never see each other again after that night, so there was no harm done.

While he spoke, he carefully absorbed her image in his mind. She was definitely attractive, though he suspected she'd be even more so if she would smile or at least stop scowling. Her features were well formed.

Her words spoke determined, of a tightly controlled mind. She definitely sat with rigid discipline, a kind of stature he'd only seen on two types of people: the wealthy or those who pretended to be.

Asher could almost hear Emerson's voice. "That's all very well and good, my boy, but what else can you tell about her with that information?"

He frowned. Well, she was in an Inn for refugees, yet she carried herself as if she were nobility. That likely meant that she either wasn't welcome at home, or had been displaced by the war in Sevitel.

Yet she didn't seem to be the type of noble who had been pushed away from money and wealth. For one thing, she was sitting in silence, not complaining about the lack of her own room, or how she was too rich for these base conditions. That meant she was either brought up well, or used to such situations.

He decided to hazard a guess. If he was right, wonderful; if not...well, he'd never see her again anyway. "Has your family been without money for long?" The question was probably the best way he could have put it, but he still winced internally that he hadn't come up with something that felt more natural.

A long silence ensued as they sat observing each other. The man had introduced himself as Asher Thyne after he shook her hand. She rose up from her position on the bed, but he posed a question to her that caught her attention. Johanna's hazel eyes looked directly at him, unashamed of such boldness. Slowly, her right eyebrow began to arch as the other one sank. She crossed her arms about her chest and gave him a hard stare.

"My family lost their money a century ago." She bitterly answered Asher. To be truthful, Johanna was particularly grumpy. Her body ached from the chill of the night air, and her hips were especially sore. The saddle that Serwyn wore was constructed for Thalien, not Johanna. It was broader and stiffer in build, a saddle meant for a man. She moved towards the fireplace and knelt beside it. The room came stocked with a small supply of firewood that would keep them warm for the rest of the night. Placing three of the logs in the fire pit, Johanna drew out her dagger from within another fold of cloth. Hanging beside the fireplace on a hook was a fire striker, or known as a flint-block. Dry twigs, and dead moss were already present in the pit as fresh tinder, as well as large coals left over from the previous fire.

Johanna went about starting the fire in silence, and only until a flame caught the dry tinder did she speak again to Asher. "What of you?" She said as she dusted off her hands on the front of her dress, glancing at him over her shoulder. Remaining in a kneeling position by the fire, Johanna followed up with another question, "What of your family? I've not heard of any Thyne's living in Sevitel." While speaking, Johanna's harsh voice softened, not out of comfort or any particular gentle feelings, but rather out of tiredness.

A long silence ensued as they sat observing each other. The man had introduced himself as Asher Thyne after he shook her hand. She rose up from her position on the bed, but he posed a question to her that caught her attention. Johanna's hazel eyes looked directly at him, unashamed of such boldness. Slowly, her right eyebrow began to arch as the other one sank. She crossed her arms about her chest and gave him a hard stare.

"My family lost their money a century ago." She bitterly answered Asher. To be truthful, Johanna was particularly grumpy. Her body ached from the chill of the night air, and her hips were especially sore. The saddle that Serwyn wore was constructed for Thalien, not Johanna. It was broader and stiffer in build, a saddle meant for a man. She moved towards the fireplace and knelt beside it. The room came stocked with a small supply of firewood that would keep them warm for the rest of the night. Placing three of the logs in the fire pit, Johanna drew out her dagger from within another fold of cloth. Hanging beside the fireplace on a hook was a fire striker, or known as a flint-block. Dry twigs, and dead moss were already present in the pit as fresh tinder, as well as large coals left over from the previous fire.

Johanna went about starting the fire in silence, and only until a flame caught the dry tinder did she speak again to Asher. "What of you?" She said as she dusted off her hands on the front of her dress, glancing at him over her shoulder. Remaining in a kneeling position by the fire, Johanna followed up with another question, "What of your family? I've not heard of any Thyne's living in Sevitel." While speaking, Johanna's harsh voice softened, not out of comfort or any particular gentle feelings, but rather out of tiredness.

Asher glanced up from the floor, fixing Johanna with a long hard stare. "We're not a rich family. I'm practically the only member of the Thyne family that I know of. My parenst gave me up a long time ago. Times were hard for the poor." A pointed sarcasm leaked into his tone. "I'm sure you understand."

He fell silent for a time, watching the fire flicker and dance. "I can't say that I ever expected a member of the rich to be stuck in a place like this, alone. Is your family with you?"

His words dug into her like poison. She felt as if she had over stepped her boundaries. Attempting to correct her bad humor, she apologized sincerely. "Forgive me Asher, I am weary from travel. I have come a long way from Ciola. If you are not aware, Ciola is our capital city. That is where I resided a mere fortnight ago. I flee to Enrimor in search of relief from this dreaded war. I have lost everything, my home, my brothers and my trade."

She paused, turning to look into the fire as she did so. Moments passed before she blinked, bringing herself back to reality. "I merely wish to warm myself by this fire without trouble nor harassment, lest you desire to share the warmth of this fire as well, I would hope that you could provide me with good humors, for a night like this." Her manners towards Asher were unnecessary, any woman of noble birth would reconcile the situation. Besides, she enjoyed conversating with new people. It provided her with a sense of knowing which then made her feel full of the desire to adventure. The trait she possessed was a common one amongst the Valerivicus.

His sarcasm had caught her attention earlier when he implied their upbringings were different. She smiled at the recollection of his words and mumbled quietly, "My family seems to brought it upon themselves through their poor guidance with their finances. You do not carry the shame that the Valerivicus surname carries here in Sevitel."

Asher snorted. "Maybe not, but at least you have a name. Emerson gave me mine." Regardless of her shame or misfortune, she still spoke like someone accustomed to the upper-class lifestyle, and that irked him. "I don't know what kind of good humor you're hoping to hear. Sevitel is in the middle of civil war, and I'm not any closer to my success because of it. What I seek is no easier found when hundreds clog the streets."

She wasn't wrong about the fire, however. The Enmorian winter had scarcely ended, and the early spring weather was still chilling and cold at night. After a second of more deliberation, he shifted to in front of the blaze, sitting beside the striking woman. "You don't have to worry about any trouble from me. I'm on borrowed time from the barkeep as is. Another patron and I had a little issue a few minutes before. I also have morals. And standards," He added the last bit as a jest. The night was too cold for so much misery."

"What's your plan in Enrimor?" He asked, partially to distract her if she took offense from his statement.

"Ah, but a name of infamy." A sad smile graced her lips at Asher's reply. As he moved to join her by the fire she turned her face towards him and patted the floor beside her. He spoke with bitterness in his voice as he compared their differences again. She could feel the irritation in his words but she brushed them away, it was best not to trouble herself with petty issues.

"Ah, so that was your doing then? When I arrived here, I sensed the tension. I wasn't certain as to what events I had missed." She smiled at his mention of possessing morals and standards. As if that would bother her. Proceeding on, Johanna began to explain to Asher what she planned in Enrimor.

"For now, I seek refuge there. My life has been threatened, and I'm trying to leave here before someone puts a knife in me during my sleep. As for when I get there...I cannot say. I would hope that the circumstances would allow me to continue plying my trade as an artisan." Now that she had answered his question, Johanna wanted to ask him about something he had earlier mentioned.

"By good humor, I simply meant for you to keep my company. However, that is not important. Tell me, what is it you seek? Why is it that the influx of people makes your job more difficult? Are you a bounty hunter? Why would you even bother coming to Sevitel at a time likes this?" She hoped that one of the questions would inspire a conversation between them.

Did she ever shut up, Asher wondered, but he allowed none of his irritation to show on his face. "Let's just say that I tend to read into others' personal lives too accurately for their liking, and sometimes I don't know when to keep my mouth shut. Like around you, for example." He ran a hand over his face, sighing.

"I'm looking...to put it bluntly, I'm looking for treasure. Riches, gold, something, anything. I can't say why, but I'm really good at following clues, and to bring Emerson up to the level of wealth he deserves would be a blessing I'd cherish forever. It'd be nice to have some money of my own, as well. But tracking the only people who have clues on roads filled with refugees is difficult, if not impossible." He stared into the flames, waiting for a flash of inspiration. His main lead had been lost to him once he entered the main road.

When he had finished speaking, Johanna mulled over his words in her exhausted mind. Assuming from the way that Asher spoke of this "Emerson", she took him to be a kind of mentor, or care-giver. She would ask another time if the chance came. Asher was a treasure hunter, and that was more interesting to her. One could say that Johanna thirsted for knowledge, she wanted to know about everything and anything. Obtaining information of any kind was useful for Johanna. Her practice required her to know a little bit about everything, although, women with any formal teaching other than training in etiquette, the arts, or other domestic activities were often looked down upon from trying to ascend from their role in life. Johanna's profession granted her the ability to gather information informally, while maintaining a comfortable social life, or that was until the beginning of the civil war.

"A treasure hunter, eh? Oh please tell me more about that, that sounds wonderfully interesting. What is it you're trying to find now? Maybe I could help with one of your clues? I could even point you in the right direction. Perhaps you've been asking the wrong people or the wrong questions." Her face glowed from an internal light, the pleasure of happiness and the good company Asher brought. Johanna didn't possess many friends, asides from Thalien, and Chezaré, there was no one she could call a true friend. Her social awkwardness despite her trained manners for etiquette.

Her hazel eyes bore into Asher as she gazed at him, closer to the iris a forest green colour bled out into a light brown exterior. They were large, and wide open with intrigue as observed him in the firelight.

Asher snorted, and waved a hand. "That's just it," he muttered. "At one time, I had an idea of what I was looking for. I even had a lead, someone who had made it quite clear they knew something about a vast trove of gold somewhere in Sevitel. He was quite the hard man to miss, too. I was tracking him, for a while, but I'm no expert, and once the roads clogged, I lost him in the crowds."

He sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Hunting for fortunes isn't anything like the storybooks tell you it is. I should know. They leave out the freezing knights, or the bandit raids you aren't prepared for. The kind that leaves you naked and hungry in the middle of nowhere. They leave out the pain, the discomfort, the actual, mind-bending brushes with death. You know, that one lucky handhold isn't always there."

He glanced back at her, noting with some confusion her total change in demeanor. "Tell me some more about yourself. I'm not the only one with a story to tell, I'd wager."

Asher held an intriguing demeanor about himself, and it drew Johanna to him. It was her desire to know, and the thought of Asher working as a treasure hunter captivated her. As he spoke of his encounters, being stranded, attacked by bandits, Johanna couldn't help but feel inspired. She watched as he leaned back onto his hands with a heavy sigh. Leaning forward, Johanna wrapped her hands around her knees and rest her cheek on top of them. "Tell me some more about yourself. I'm not the only one with a story to tell, I'd wager." Here, she looked again at Asher and offered him a weak smile.

"It is nothing as glorious as your adventures, but my family is notorious here in Sevitel. We once belonged to the inner circles of noble society. The men in my family are all handsome, but it seems that aggression, and drunkenness runs rampant, as for us women, we were all raised to be married off at age fifteen to lords, barons, and the like. However, our overspending quickly led to our debt. We were the wealthiest family in all of Sevitel, four hundred years ago. The man who started it all was Fredrick Valerivicus, he was the first non-noble to be knighted by the King. He had proven himself in battle countless times, and on one occasion he bravely protected the Commanding General from harm when he was severely wounded on the battlefield." Johanna sounded bitter as she spoke about her family, as if she were greatly annoyed by their undoing. And in truth, she was.

"The Valerivicus threw lavish parties every week it seemed, and we squandered away our very last coin till we were penniless. Over the years of extravagant spending, my mother Giovanna, sold many of our family's precious gems, and jewelery. One day, I was suppose to inherit my portion of the family wealth, when that day came, there was nothing for me to receive. Except this." She pulled out a beautiful necklace on a silver chain from beneath her red linen dress. The necklace had a sapphire stone the size of a silver piece, around the stone were roses etched in silver. The gem itself made the necklace valuable, but so did the craftsmanship. She held the pendant in the palm of her hand, offering Asher a closer look at the necklace in the light of the fire.

"The rest of my coin, I have earned that. That is mine to keep and I spend it as I desire, is never wasted on frugality. There was more, to our namesake that is. My father sold his entire armory collection, as well as our family heirlooms. Anything valuable was sold to keep our fires warm, and our bellies full of food and mead." She tucked the necklace back into the hem of her dress and rubbed her hands, as if trying to warm them. "During the riots in Ciola, my brother, Thalien, his store was raided. Chezaré, the inn where he lodged burned down in the chaos. I was being followed home at night, I could feel their eyes, but I could never find them, those who watched me in the darkness. I was attacked shortly after when I was walking home from my shop, The Red Palace. Perhaps you've heard of it? Anywho, after my attack, the following day, a note appeared on my door front. It threatened my very life. And now I'm here." She held up her hands helplessly.

Of all the things Asher could have noted, he instead said, "Here in Sevitel? We're on the border, Johanna, but we are in Enrimor. You're not on home soil any longer." Then he relented. "It seems as if your family is responsible for your current state of affairs, just as mine was." He felt a kindred spirit with this woman, after they had both gotten past that sticky point of contempt for each other. They were in similar financial straits for very different reasons. "Never heard of The Red Palace, sorry."

There wasn't much else to say, but as he sat there, an idea and a statement wormed into his mind. This woman is pretty. More than pretty: in the right outfit and get-up, she would be outright alluring. And with the spine she had displayed to him already...well, perhaps it was time to see if he could enlist in a full-rights partner on his journey. They both sought the same general goal, an ascension from poverty, and what would he and Emerson do with a treasure of emperors, anyway?

"All right," Asher murmured, his mind decided. He turned to face her, a fierce light flickering in his eyes, from the fire, and from his own hopes. "Decades, centuries ago, when the titanic Fortisian tribal empire walked the continent. They owned everything, from the seas to the forests.They amassed tons, uncountable masses of gold and silver, and precious stones, all from within the earth we now walk above. There's still plenty available, do not misunderstand me, but their skill with crafting and mining were unmatched.

"The different factions within the warlord-based kingdom each had their own massive amounts of treasure, with trade between the tribes being based on each tribe's spirit animal. I realize this is likely unknown history for you, so for now just understand that to each of the fourteen tribes, a specific type of stone or material was worth more than all the others. Wars were fought over these rocks.

"Now imagine a king--the first king, really, of this continent. emerged from the dusts of time and gained control of each tribe, one after another. He quietly stole their precious stones away each night, and in the tribes' desperation, they all agreed to join the king. Except for one: the Ronas. Now we call them citizens of Rohnad. Rohnans, whatever you please."

He leaned in slightly, his words becoming more and more excited as he began to pull a scroll from the mess of his personal effects by the foot of his bed. "The Ronas refused to submit to this king's reign of trickery and theft. They retreated to the far southwest corner of Reath, to the point where none but the bravest dared enter the cold. The Ronas, well, they were definitely the bravest. And the most resourceful, with the most accurate hunters and most skilled warriors. They also had a code, a code which restrained them from taking over the other tribes by force.

"The king attacked. Oh, he tried to wipe them out, but the Ronas were clever. They never established full cities, instead mastering the art of erecting giant tent-towns in a day; each person built their own home in accordance with a central plan, et cetera. The king could never find the inhabitants of the frigid region, so he established himself ruler and caretaker of the region.

Asher chuckled dryly. "But the Ronas weren't finished. They struck at night, carefully, using the king's own shady tactics against him to protect their land. There were casualties, on both sides, but the king was driven back, and Rohnad was eventually established as a country. That's another story, however.

He unrolled the parchment in front of him, a relatively new piece of writ with a country looking nothing like any of the maps of today. "The king was driven back to the rest of the continent, where I assume he eventually played a role in the founding of Sevitel, and eventually Enrimor. Imagine this: a king in control of thirteen tribes of warlord-controlled people, all of them held together through sheer force of will and conflict among themselves. Eventually, something had to break. I don't know the specifics, but the kind was annihilated, and many of the tribes along with him. Only Rohnad and a few others survived, those wise enough to escape while they could.

"Here's where it get's interesting. Aside from Rohnad, that king and his closest attendants controlled most of the wealth on the entire continent that was above-ground." He broke off in to a slight tangent. "That being said, Emerson tells me that there's still vast amounts of untamed riches and wealth to be had on this continent, and the others besides. Anyway, this treasure trove, it vanished with the king.

"Imagine that," he repeated. "One of the greatest, most stunning collections of art and craftsmanship and treasure to ever exist, lost to history, somewhere on the continent." He was embellishing slightly: he doubted it was such an incredible amount, but it was still likely a massive sum, more than most nobles would ever acquire in their lives. "And I have a clue to it."

Here he pointed down to the jagged border of the ink. "This is a rough etching of the ancient king's capital region. And this," here he traced a red line, "is where I think the treasure might be hidden. At the very least, there has to be a clue there. It took Emerson and I months of studying old tomes and charts to narrow it down even this much. It might not even exist." He laughed humorlessly. "I might just be fooling myself into oblivion. But I can't just let it go." He eyed her carefully, hoping to see some sort of reaction.

"Anyway, I'm sorry to talk your ears off. My excitement got a little away from me." He glanced out the window. "It's getting late, far later than I meant to be up on such a miserable night. I'm going to bed. Don't worry, I won't touch you in your sleep, you have my word." He rolled up the parchment and tossed it back to his things, where is hung out tantalizingly. With any luck, she'd be drawn to it, especially if he read her strange, hungry look correctly.

Asher nodded to the woman, made sure the fire had plenty of wood, and then crawled under the worn, yet surprisingly comfortable and clean bedsheets. Not bad at all, he mused.

Johanna blushed a deep shade of red at Asher's correction, "Ah yes, I forgot how far I had travelled..." She offered up weakly.

If one were meant to be a story-teller, it would be Asher. He mesmerized Johanna with the idea of unthinkable amounts of treasure waiting to be discovered and claimed. A small portion of the treasure regained would surely lift her family out of poverty, Johanna was certain. She hung onto every word, storing away information that would be useful later.

As he rose up from the floor, Asher politely excused himself, promising not to touch Johanna in her sleep, and she smiled at that. He had left the scroll out, and she couldn't help but stare at it in wonder. She desperately wanted to examine it personally, but she felt that her actions would be looked down upon, so she resisted. Following Asher's lead, Johanna rose up and moved towards her bed. She pulled the quilted covers on the bed down, and slipped inside. "Good night Asher." Johanna murmured from her bed, the only sound in the room to be heard was the cracking of the wood inside the fireplace.

Closing her eyes, Johanna tried to lull herself to sleep. She laid awake for hours, staring quietly at the wooden rafters above her. Her eyes followed the grain of the wood until she became lost in it. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

---

Before she knew it, she found herself awake again, from the light shining through the windows, Johanna could tell that dawn was breaking. Sitting up in bed, Johanna looked over at Asher, she could tell he was sleeping by the rise and fall of his chest. The scroll had been on her mind, in her dreams as she had slept, she needed to see the rest of it. If anything, she needed to know where the map would be in present day since it was written so long ago.

Creeping out of bed, Johanna approached the scroll, and knelt before it. She carefully unrolled it, and examined the map upon closer inspection. The longer she studied it, the more she couldn't make sense of it. After a few minutes of confusion, Johanna rolled the parchment paper back up and placed it where she had found it.

Asher smiled, his eyes still closed and his breathing carefully modulated. The morning was so much more welcome to him than the cold of night. The fire had burned away during the darkness, but spring was fast approaching, and the days were far warmer now than a few weeks before.

After a time, he sat up, stretched to one side leisurely, and slid a hand across his face. He had some stubble growing: he might have to shave soon. Then he glanced over at the other bed, where his roommate was already awake. "Good morning," he said. Then he noted something was amiss in the room.

The parchment had been moved. Slightly, very slightly, but it had been rolled the opposite way last night, and now it wasn't. He smiled again. "I see you liked my story," he said, pointing to the scroll.

After satisfying her curiosity for the map, Johanna, slightly disappointed, had returned quietly to bed. There, she lay awake, waiting for Asher to rise. And when he did, she almost died with relief. He offered her a polite greeting but it seemed that right away he noticed that his scroll had been touched during the night. Instead of being angry at her for touching his possessions, he smiled. Immediately, Johanna left the warmth of her bed, although the room was fairly warm due to the spring mornings and approached Asher, hands clasped under her chin, eyes pleading.

"Oh Asher! You must take me with you, please! I haven't anywhere to go, and what a story it would be if I were to come with you. I'm very useful, and I won't be much of a bother, oh won't you let me go with you, please?"

She seemed to be doing all the work for him. He hadn't had to ask her at all, but he would need to seem coy, else she'd wonder why he agreed so easily. "I thought you were looking to be an artisan in Enrimor. I can't see how that would be useful for a long, dangerous journey." He left out the fact that most men would have been thinking. Why should I share my hard earned treasure with you? Of course, he didn't actually think that, but if she thought he didn't want her, than she'd want all the more to come with him.

Or maybe he was just talking himself in circles. "Still, if you want to come along, I don't have any real issue with it. Just be careful. Can you fight at all?"

Johanna's eyes brightened at his attempt to dampen her spirits, or that's how she understood the situation. She laughed aloud, clapping her hands together in joy, and spun in a circle. "Oh Asher! It is useful! I will only be more inspired when it comes to my craftwork, think of all those wonderful sights we will see! The places we will go, the people we will meet, the food we will eat, the adventure is in itself!" She spoke rapidly in her excitement.

"As for fighting, I do not have any formal training, but my brothers taught me to respect the blade as it is deadly when placed into hands of those who wish you ill. My mother had me learn archery for the sake of keeping my mind alert and attentive, though I have not used a bow in years. Oh yes! Yes, please! I will come with you." Here she smiled at Asher, before realizing that she was acting out-of-hand. Collecting her wits about herself, Johanna clasped her hands in front of her dress and asked, "Where are we going first?"

Asher shrugged. "I told you, the only lead I had vanished when the roads swarmed. He was a jeweler, and I happened to hear him discussing with a tradesman the most remarkable gem he'd happened to find. It fit the desription of one of the gems in one of the stories. It was a tiny lead, but it was all I had."

He sighed, and bent to the floor, gathering up his things. "I suppose I'll start by seeing if any of the cities along this route has any information on incredibly beautiful gems. If that doesn't work, I'll head back to Emerson and see if he has anything to say."

He turned and made the bed slowly. "People who sell jewels are quite the troublesome bunch."