"Refugees, are you? Well you've come to the wrong place." The peddler informed them the next morning. 

The cool air of the night lingered, but the sun's rays began to peak over the distant mountains to mingle amongst the trees. Particularly hairy hogs snorted and walked about, rutting in the mud beside the road that led into the town of what they discovered was called Akendorf. An 'imperial-like' settlement of free men and women who wanted to find their own way out of the Empire's taxes and dogmatic traditions. Emmaline rode atop the stallion, draped in their cloth blanket whilst a cloaked Amal guided the mount by its reins, having walked up the road from a mile back. Mostly to appear a bit less intimidating than an armed and dangerous arabyan thief and what they might consider of Emmaline as 'stolen goods.' 

"We will not stay long. We only seek food and shelter for the night, and we'll keep moving." Amal assured him. The bearded, older fellow gave a huff of a laugh, as if what Amal had said was utterly ridiculous. 

"There's not much room. But even if you've found some-" His mouth was clamped shut by a portly woman Amal imagined was his wife. She had scurried over not a moment before and shut her husband up, pulling him back a step to whisper in his ear. Whatever she was saying, it was urgent. He listened, and then looked at the two newcomers before pulling back and nodding. "Actually, yes. We have an extra bed at our house. We do need to be a bit more accomodating to folk, herr...?" 

"Ababwa," Amal remarked, crossing his arms. He didn't fully understand what was happening, but as long as there was a bed in it for them, he would not complain. "My wife and I have been traveling for many days. Would you happen to have something to drink? Something strong would be good." 

"Strong!" The man laughed, drawing the gazes of nearby villagers. The town of Akendorf wasn't large. Barely a step above a hamlet, with maybe a thousand villagers or less, if Amal had to guess. It was a strange oddity amongst northern settlements. Unless you were at a bedouin camp on the caravan lanes, no settlement had less than twenty thousand people, for water sources were far too scarce. If there was water, there were men and many of them. A dog had walked over curiously but then bounded off at the peddler's laugh. "We have some strong drink, yes, my new friend. Would you tell us of your journey when we ate? We would like to hear news of the south." 

"We came from the north, we're going south." 

"O-oh, of right. Well, tell us that too! Dear, come help his wife off the horse. We can stable your beast." 

"Thanks." Amal said quizzically. He didn't know what he had done to deserve such hospitality, but he would take it.