Mathis watched the woman from below. He liked her immediately. She was smart.

Well, not smart enough to stay out of these woods by herself in the night, but smart and fiery enough to beat the shit out of a band of brigands who tried to have their way with her. And then smart enough to run away from the next man who rescued her.

Not that he was any danger to her, but he knew there were plenty of creeps in these parts who liked to play the hero in order to gain the trust of young people in order to take advantage of them, girls specifically.

But how did she get out here all by herself?

She looked confused and like she was beginning to panic. He was going to guess that she didn't know.

Some cruel kind of magic then? Ripped her from her bed in the middle of her sleep and dumped her into the slimy hands of a dozen strangers?

Who would do something like that?

"Lady, do you need further assistance?" he called. "There's not a town for miles yet, and these woods are filled with unsavory types."

He could hear her shift, the leaves moving around her. "Only unsavory types, or do you belong to some other category?"

Hmm. Strange accent. He kind of liked the twinge her words had in the middle of them.

"Wise question to ask a strange man in the dark," he said. "Mostly unsavory types, to be honest. There's a road for travellers to the west, so bands of robbers like to hide out here to make attacks easy to conduct. I was traveling, but I heard you scream."

She didn't answer. She seemed to straighten again and turn to look around once more. "Which way is west? I don't see a road anywhere. How did you hear me scream unless you were walking?"

He frowned. "I was walking, Lady. I could have been riding my horse, but she was tired. I left her by a tree before following your cries."

"What?" she asked, voice pitching up an octave. "Where the hell am I that people ride horses on roads instead of driving?"

He smiled. He hadn't heard a woman curse in a while. Being at the palace had been stifling. "Well we drive too, but carriages are for the wealthy."

"Carriages! What year is it, 1800?"

He frowned. "Begging your pardon, Lady, but it's year 73 of His Majesty Wallace the IIX."

"What?" She asked again, even shriller this time. He listened to the thumping of her leaping to lower branches and the rustling of limps. She dropped down before him and straightened. "Where am I?" she demanded.

Mathis blinked, trying to see her better in the dark. "Well, these are the Enber Woods, in the middle of Tonbridge and the capital-"

"No, no, what country?"

"Hessux?"

"What the sh- I've never heard of Hessux in my life. This is ridiculous." She paused. "Do you know where the United States of America is?"

"Sorry, Lady, I've not heard of it either."

"Not heard of- the USA? Calls itself the greatest country in the world, likes to involve itself in other people's business?"

"Greatest country in the- That'd be Hessux, begging your pardon."

She sputtered. "Well I'm not going to argue about whose country is better when I've only just arrived here. Do you have a map?"

He reached into his satchel. "I don't really have a soft spot for Hessux, that's just what it calls itself." He found a sliver of moonlight just below the tree from which she had descended, parts of the canopy having been pushed apart. "Here. Can you read it here?"

She peered over his side to take a look at the aged parchment. He watched what he could see of her face. She pressed her lips together, brows furrowing. She sighed, looking up at him, "Do you have a world map? Nothing on this local one looks like it's going to help me at all. I can't even read the markings."

"Really?" He rolled up the parchment. "That's strange. You can speak our language but can't read it." He tucked the map back into his bag. "I'm sorry, Lady, but the only world maps we are going to have are going to be at the palace in the capital. They're hard to make and even harder to come by. I'm headed that way, if you'd like to join me. It's only about a day away. The worst of the trip is behind me now."

He managed to examine her face in the slim ray of moonlight, watching her think. She had a round face and dimpled chin. She pressed her lips together again, frowning furiously, brows knitting together. Her hair was a mess of tangles and twigs and he could barely make out the smudge of dirt on her cheek.

She sighed. "I mean, I don't see that I have a choice. If I stay here…." she looked up at him. "I didn't say thank you for earlier. I'm sorry. I do appreciate that."

He chuckled. "I gathered you were thankful when you fled from the immediate danger. Don't be sorry. It's always wise to flee strange men in the woods. And you're welcome." He looked over her, scratching his chin. "But what are these garments you're wearing?"

She looked down at herself in her loose blue linen trousers and matching button up blouse, decorated by childish drawings of cows. "They're my PJs."

"Your what?"

"Pajamas?"

"Uh…,"

"Night clothes?"

"Oh!" He paused. "Well we can't have you wandering around in those, that's highly inappropriate." He tugged his cloak off from around his shoulders and swung it around her back, tying it under her chin and then taking a step back. "There. Just wear that and stay hidden until we get to the next small town and can find you something to wear."

She scowled in confusion. "What's wrong with my pajamas? They're modest, they don't show anything."

Mathis frowned. "Perhaps… where you are from?"

"Exactly. Where I am from. People show much more skin than this out in public."

Oh my. "All right. Understandably, you're at a loss, considering where you are from. But here, these look like winter undergarments and are asking for trouble."

"Well that's fucking stupid."

He snorted, grinning. "And also, if you don't want to get us kicked out of any reputable establishments, perhaps keep the swearing to yourself when we're in public?"

She hung her head, looking embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered.

He shrugged. "I don't mind. Talk how you want around me. Lastly, what's your name?"

"Oh! I'm sorry. My name is Olive. Olive Carraway."

"A surname? Are you important?"

"What? No, everyone has a surname. Right?"

"Ah. Okay, if you don't have a title, you don't have a surname. You're just Olive."

She sighed. "Dammit."

"And I'm Sir Mathis, of House Nam, a knight in service to His Majesty."

"A knight? You have knights?"

"You don't have knights?"

"We have fake knights. And soldiers."

"Doesn't sound so different," Mathis said, taking a step to the west, "We have plenty of fake knights. I work with a handful of them. Come along." He put a guiding hand on her shoulder. "Watch your step, and we should be in town by sunrise."