When Fabrian awoke, her mouth was dry and her voice grated against her throat. As she rubbed away crusted tears from her lashes, her vision blearily came-to. By the time she remembered she’d climbed into a tree for safety the night before, she had already unconsciously shifted too far left and panicked as weightlessness overtook her. 

The ground met her when she hit it flailing, a fluster of torn dress skirts. Fabrian stared up at the breaks in the forest canopy to the bright blue sky above. Nothing felt broken but she had lost all will to stand. The carpet bag tumbled after her, landing with a padded thump on her torso. 

Today had to be a “Monday”, regardless of whether or not it actually was. 

She wasn't sure how much time had actually passed before she finally sat up and brushed herself off. Undoing the bun and the braids, she pulled together the unruly curls and tied her hair back into a simple ponytail. The adjusted weight gave her something to focus on as she retrieved her abandoned high-heels and slipped them onto her bandaged feet. Setting the carpet bag aside, Fabrian decided to start a schedule—that's what they advised recruits to do in the event that they found themselves abandoned in an emergency situation: find something to help you measure time, regulate your body to that schedule for a sense of normalcy. 

Raising her arms above her head, she took a deep breath and stretched for as long as her body could take. It would be a good benchmark to understand where she should start for her physical training routine. She went through several cycles of raising her arms over head, bending down to touch her toes, shoulder rotations, hamstring stretches, loosening quads, and so on. 

Though she was winded just from those simple warm-ups, she also felt better, relaxed by the familiarity of prepping for exercise. 

“Alright, get a hold of yourself,” Fabrian said resolutely, picking up the carpet bag. “First, you're going to go back to the main road, follow it around the forest, and see if you can find anyone selling wares. Then, you're going to get something more comfortable to wear, food rations, maybe a blanket to sleep with, and actual shoes. You're going to do this. You know how to do this.”

Leaving the forest felt cathartic, the darkness of the overhead shroud parting slowly for warm sunlight glittering atop her head. The rays warmed her through her dress. If she had to put a name to the season, she'd guess spring. Everything felt more bearable than last night. There were birds singing in the distance, close enough to hear but far enough to be unsure of where. Along the dirt path, orange and white wildflowers swayed lazily back and forth. Fabrian had to admit she could’ve been transported to an uglier world, this one was at least very beautiful to look at while walking.

She walked along the path to the North for what she supposed was most of the morning. She wondered how time worked here. Was it a lot like her world? Or, did things work differently? 

Since there were no difficulties speaking with the prince, the guards, and Amelia yesterday, Fabrian figured once she did find someone selling wares, she'd have no problem communicating with them. She supposed she had the previous body's owner to thank for that. 

When the sun reached directly overhead in the sky, Fabrian came across a herd of wagons parked along the side of the road. There were several men and women carrying boxes back and forth between some of the vehicles. It wasn't until she approached that she realized several of the wagons had broken wheels, and others still looked burned. She blinked in surprise before hurrying over. 

“Hey, is everyone alright?” She called out. 

Some of the people regarded her warily, while others ignored her and continued swapping cargo from the broken wagons to the better ones. A large woman stepped out from underneath a curtain on the back of the first wagon. She had broad shoulders and long legs and wore a heavy velvet shirt that was tucked into a turquoise horse-face skirt and leather trousers. An animal skin long-jacket draped along her shoulders, and a necklace of gold and emeralds adorned her neck with matching rings on her fingers. Her dread-locked dark hair was pulled back with several gold ornaments, and her skin shimmered like ebony in the sunlight.

“Who's asking?” She asked gruffly. 

“Sorry,” Fabrian backtracked, observing the situation. The best action would be to play it like she was in a similar situation to build rapport and gather information on how their convoy ended up this way. “I was so relieved to find people that I got ahead of myself.”

The woman eyed her up and down. Something glittered darkly in her gaze.

Fabrian realized that as the former queen, her face was probably fairly recognizable. She forced back a nervous swallow and continued on with her tale. “Yesterday, my carriage was attacked by bandits, and I was abandoned on the side of the road. I've been wandering since, trying to find a town or merchants to help.”

The woman acquiesced with a sigh and stared up at the sky. “You're another victim then. Bandit sightings have been growing more and more as we approach the borders of Natalez’s capital.”

“Is the situation that bad?” Fabrian asked innocently, feigning disbelief as she covered her mouth. 

The woman gestured for her to follow. “ Afraid so. There's a lot of civil unrest now that the kingdom is in shaky hands. Plus, most of these bandits are crossing over into Agan after committing their deeds, trying to frame our neighboring country.”

Fabrian's brows raised. “So it's not actually the Aganians causing trouble?”

The woman shook her head. 

One of the biggest conflicts in Two Kingdoms Lost in Tears and Sorrow is the fact that the hostility between both countries are extremely strong…but is that not the case? Is the turmoil all internal and then framed on Agan? That would explain why Hector and Amelia would refuse the king of Agan's treaty later in the plot. They need a scapegoat and Agan is perfect for that. 

“The name’s Netali,” the woman introduced herself. 

“Fabrian,” Fabrian responded before realizing that was her own name and not this body's. Although, she really had no inkling of what the nameless queen's actual name could be. So, maybe it'd be alright to give her own identity. 

“A pleasure,” Netali said, holding back the curtain to the first wagon she'd come from. “Feel free to step in for a bit. The caravan is just about to get moving again.”

Fabrian assessed the wagon. There were crates and a few quilted pillows surrounded by lanterns, with a low table at the center of the cushions. On the tabletop was a map, and a few mugs of what looked like wine. There were no irregular signs of the crates having been shoved across the floor, and no reflection of metal on the wagontop’s canvas ceiling—no tell of a prepared ambush. Safe for now.

“Thank you,” Fabrian said. 

“We can't offer much while we're restocking between towns, but I feel for you.” Netali sat down on one of the cushions and produced another mug from under the table; she popped open the wineskin that had been at her side and poured out the contents before offering it to Fabrian. Farbrian wondered what to do in this situation—in most cases, she'd be wary of poison or drugs in the liquid, but she had watched the woman pour everything out in front of her. 

As if reading her mind, Netali chuckled. “You're hesitant; that's savvy for a noble like yourself. Here.” Netali took a drink from the mug, swished the contents around in her mouth, and then swallowed. She opened her mouth, showing that she had actually swallowed everything. “See, drinkable.”

Fabrian smirked. Interesting. “Thank you.” 

She took the mug and allowed herself a drink, melting at how tangy the drink was. The texture was smooth like water, and yet there was a salty and sweet aftertaste that refreshed her the way a cold electrolyte drink would. Against her better judgment, she chugged down the drink. Netali laughed and held out the wineskin, and Fabrian proffered the mug as Netali filled it up again. She was more careful to swallow the contents slowly this time. 

“So…” Netali began, watching her with intrigue. “What's the banished Queen of Natalez doing on this road? I'd figure you'd flee to the south where things are probably more agreeable in your favor.”

Fabrian choked on the drink. “What?”

“Don't act so surprised,” Netali said sitting back. “Any veteran merchant worth their salt would recognize the Queen.”

Fabrian set the mug down, eyeing her with a calculated look. 

Netali shrugged. “Most of the people here are apprentices or newer merchants, and have yet to see any of the royalty outside of portraits published in local papers. I doubt they'll recognize you.”

“But you do.” Fabrian shifted, ready to bolt from the wagon.

“I met you in person once, you held a forum for the league of merchants. We were allowed to voice our complaints, not that you actually cared. It was a formality for you, good to know it was important enough for you to remember.” Netali hummed with a sarcastic tone, before adding thoughtfully. “Go ahead, sit back down, I'm not threatening you.”

“Aren't you?” Fabrian asked.

“You've acted ten times smarter than you did in the limited encounter I had with you in the past,” Netali said. “Or were you just pretending while married to the late king? I don't know, I don't care.”

“Then why'd you help me?”

“Who knows? They say what goes around, comes around, y'know.”

“Here too, huh?”

“We're not savages, outside of the castle, Your Majesty.” Netali quirked a brow. “However, maybe I helped because I think it could be beneficial.”

“To you?” Fabrian asked. “And please, just Fabrian. No honorifics, or anything like that, I don't think I could stand them.”

“Does this have to do with the Crown Prince’s decree, about no one acknowledging your name? If so, calling you a nobody must've really gotten under your skin if you're going by an alias. Not that it matters to me—Fabrian it is.” Netali waved dismissively. “If you're traveling on this road, it means you're headed toward Agan?”

“And if I am?”

“I'm sure you'd need an escort.”

Fabrian's eyes lit up and she smiled. “For a price, I'm sure.”

“Very clever,” Netali said. “I have to admit, I much prefer this one-on-one atmosphere with you. You're far less squawky.” 

“I'll have you know I have nothing of value to offer you,” Fabrian cautioned. 

“I'm sure,” Netali said with a knowing gaze. 

They were quiet for some time, staring each other down. The atmosphere was tense but not hostile. There was room for negotiations. 

“Say I was in need of an escort.” Fabrian observed her nails, pretending there was something interesting about them. “I'd like to purchase a pair of shirts and trousers, boots or good walking shoes if you can manage. I will pay upfront for these. I'll sell you my carpet bag for a good travel pack too, something easy to carry, preferably a backpack. Anything else on this journey, I'd like to work off. I will not be paying upfront for that.”

“I see,” Netali drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “Yes, I believe I like you much better like this. Were you purposefully trying to get the Crown Prince to drive you out? Acting all stupid and pompous?”

“If only that were the case.” Fabrian gripped the handle of the carpet bag. 

Netali said nothing for a while, mulling over Fabrain’s offer before picking up one of the mugs from the tabletop. “We have a deal.”

Fabrian relaxed slightly. She knew nothing about this merchant aside from the fact that she recognized the nameless queen's body. She'd still have to be wary for now. In the meantime, she clanked her mug against Netali's outstretched one. For now, there was an understanding between them.