TW: References to eating disorders, and mentions of weight gain and calorie counting.

Fabrian was all too eager to shuck off the velvet dress. Unfortunately, she struggled to undo the corset—Netali graciously offered to help untie the ribbons. While waiting for the new clothes, Fabrian closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had three goals before reaching the desert. 

One: She needed to put on weight. While she didn't know what the nameless queen currently weighed, it was very clear that she was malnourished. Whether it was due to beauty standards or something else, she could tell the nameless queen had not been eating well or regularly for a long while. Fabrian felt her own ribs against her skin, and her hipbone jutted painfully against the seat. Her wrists were fragile, and she had noted how she could enclose her own hand, pinky to thumb, around the thickest part of the wrist bone. Gaining weight in an unfamiliar environment would be difficult. But if Netali would let her work for board and food, that would make things easier. 

The first step would be to schedule food regularly into her day and eat things gentle on her stomach. Grains and starches like potatoes. Next, she would prioritize meat if it was easily available in this world. Preferably red meat and fish for high-iron and fats. If meat wasn't accessible, she’d opt for legumes for protein, and nuts and eggs for fat content.

She'd have to introduce at least two to three full meals with two smaller snacks a day, building up to probably five meals and one snack within the next half year. 

Goal two would tie heavily into accomplishing goal one, which was regaining her strength from her previous body. Because Fabrian Rio was strong. She’d always placed within the top ranks during physical training tests—she’d worked hard on building her high stamina and her chorded physique. In the real world, she was constantly pushing the limits of her personal bests to lift heavier weights or to run an extra half mile. 

In order to get there, though, she'd need adequate water and nutrition to sustain such intensive training. 

Which led to goal three: conditioning for combat. 

Fabrian briefly considered not pursuing a path in combat. She didn't have to be a soldier now. In the Army, she worked as an intel analyst, and her bachelor's degree was in economics. She could easily find something in the lines of information or even accounting. There was no need to pursue another militant life. 

But as she flexed her dainty fingers, she found herself missing that muscle-memory of how to protect herself and of how to protect others. It was the other side to the coin that was her physical; one side adored being strong and the other relished complete control of a tool held in her hands—relying on it like another extension of her body.

“You're awfully quiet,” Netali said, announcing her return. “Not a bad thing, but I just remember you being unnecessarily loud.”

Fabrian cracked open her eyes. “People change.”

“Somehow I feel this is more true to your nature than ever before.” Netali held out a folded set of cloth on one arm and a tall pair of riding boots in her other hand. 

Fabrian took the clothes and shook them out. A knee-length, red tunic with slits along the sides, a worn brown belt with what looked like a sword loop, and deep brown linen trousers. She took the riding boots as well, plain and clearly used, but at least she wouldn’t have to break them in.

“These were sold to us a while back. We were going to scrap them and sell the materials to a tailor once we made the next town—but I think these will suit you more.”

“How much do I owe you?” Fabrian asked. 

Netali shook her head. “For these, nothing. If you want anything nicer, then we'll talk.”

Fabrian ran her fingers along the clothes. She found Netali's charity questionable, but for now she'd have to accept it. “And the bag?”

“I'll take you over to the tanner once you're dressed. You can pick out something suitable to replace your little old lady bag there.”

Fabrian hummed. “Have you given thought on how I can repay you for the accompaniment to Agan?”

Netali shrugged. “Not yet. I know you mentioned you prefer accounting or monitoring our sales margins, but I have to tell you, I don't trust you near our books just yet.”

“A smart move, I understand.” Fabrian clutched the new outfit close. “Physical labor then?”

Throwing back her head, Netali laughed for some time. And even after the loudest of it had faded, her shoulders continued to shake with amusement as she choked back her residual chuckling. Once the mirth had cleared the air, Fabrian shot her a bemused expression and a quirk of her eyebrows. 

“Oh you were serious,” Netali said. 

Fabrian gestured around. “I'm sure the bandits helped themselves to plenty of your stores. Firewood, hunting, gathering, I can do that much. As I get better physically, I can serve as a bodyguard too. I'm sure that's something every caravan needs.”

The woman toyed with the ends of one of her locks and gave Fabrian a scrupulous glance. “I’d never heard you joke before, but I don't find this particularly funny.”

Fabrian had heard that before from her fellow soldiers. Unironically though, this time she wasn't joking. “I am serious, Netali.”

“Pardon my skepticism, but I don't see a…refined little noble like yourself being suited to any of the tasks you listed.”

“I admit that I may not be physically up to the task right now, but I will improve with conditioning and time. I know how to do everything I suggested, otherwise I would not have offered.”

Netali pursed her lips and did not respond for a while. Fabrian stood alert, not willing to budge under the pressure of doubt. 

“How will you hunt?”

Fabrian could've sagged with relief. “Wire traps will be the best options for now until I can handle a weapon. While you guys travel during the day, I will tail the caravan and stick to the forest. Whatever I manage to kill, I will bring back to camp in the evenings.”

“And the firewood?”

“That’s what the pack that I'm trading my carpet bag is for. If I can get straps attached to it, I could easily carry the branches on my back while I traverse the terrain.”

Netali hummed, “You've actually given this thought. You are the former queen, aren't you?”

Fabrian laughed anxiously. “Doubting yourself now?”

“No,” Netali said. “Just find it hard to believe. Go ahead and get dressed. I'll wait for you outside. We'll go look for that bag of yours and discuss your terms of service for the duration of the trip to Agan.”

Fabrian instantly fell in love with the new clothes. The tunic was warm, and yet breezy enough not to be stifling; the fabric was soft like velvet and yet breathable like cotton. Though it was run-of-the-mill linen, the trousers were also a stark and welcome difference from the layers of petticoat and bloomers beneath the weighty gown that the queen had been wearing prior to Fabrian's intrusion. She was also glad to be rid of the heels, the tall riding boots feeling far more sturdy and supportive to her feet. Drawing back her hair again, she re-tied her ponytail before making her way to meet Netali. 

The merchant gazed at her, watching as she folded the dress over her arms and carried the heels in hand. 

“Do you want these to sell for scraps?” Fabrian asked.

“The jewels on that dress are real, right?” Netali questioned. 

“As far as I know.”

“Then, yes.” 

Fabrian fell into step as Netali led the way through the camp. “Do I get to keep a portion of the sales made?”

“You're quite wily, aren't you. A pity it was never used to better Natalez,” Netali said with a thin smile. “Very well. You'll get twenty percent of whatever the jewels fetch. The rest we'll consider my handling fees and a forward payment on your boarding. How is that?”

“Sounds good.” Better than some of the pay rates I left behind. “However, I wish to watch the exchange when you sell the jewels. It will help me understand the current market prices  and what the expectations are in a deal.”

“I like it; fine by me.”

As they walked through the sea of wagons, Fabrian stopped as several people were standing in a circle. There were five total—they stood in two rows, long polearms with wide blades at the end firmly held in their grasps. Together, they moved in uniform motions through what looked like a series of practiced dance moves, what Fabrian imagined would be the equivalent of katas for that weapon. 

Netali paused and noticed Fabrian's attention on the group. 

“Those are our current guards,” she said. “The two men are Darian and Armon, and on the left, they go by Cleri. The two lasses are Hail and Sanda.”

Fabrian nodded. “What is that weapon? It looks larger than a regular spear.”

“Keen eye. That's a glaive.” Netali gestured for Fabrian to follow after her as they continued on. “They're good defensive polearms,  but you have to be both strong and quick at wielding them.”

“I’d like to learn,” Fabrian said.

Netali laughed. 

I suppose it seems like it’s an odd request for now. Fabrian shrugged. But it'll be a nice end goal. 

Together they ended up at a green wagon, with drying lines with long strips of hides hanging outside its entrance. Netali pulled back the wagon cover and gave a shout. 

“Knock knock!”

A haggard old woman hobbled from the back of the wagon and greeted the younger merchant. They shared a stilted conversation that consisted mostly of haggling back and forth for how much the carpet bag could be traded for. After a tense few minutes, the old woman gave up and gestured to Fabrian. 

“So you're looking for a rucksack with straps to hold kindling?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Fabrian answered. 

“That carpet bag you're toting is one of a mere handful that were circulated  in Natalez,” the old woman harrumphed. “And you want to trade it for a rucksack?”

Netali shot Fabrian a glance, and in turn Fabrian resisted the urge to wince.

“I have no need for it,” Fabrian explained, grateful for the nameless queen's wanton spending for once. “I'm sure the resale value would be worth it for you then?”

“Absolutely,” the old woman crossed her arms. “The nobility would be drooling over themselves to obtain it as a collectible. My question is how did you come into possession of it.”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Fabrian looked up at the canvased ceiling. 

“Don't you mean right place, right time?”

Fabrian held the empty bag out, self-consciously patting her trousers to make sure the last of her jewels and the map were still safely stored in her pocket. “Do we have a deal or not, ma'am?”

Netali stepped back and crossed her arms. 

The old woman sighed. “Fine, I won't pry further. The ring leader doesn't make mistakes when she brings people into her ranks. One moment, I'll bring you what I have to offer. If you don't like what I have, as long as you're willing to wait, I’ll allow you to commission a custom bag given the rarity of what you're trading.”

When the old woman returned, Fabrian was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the travel packs. They were made of heavy and durable leather, and each one had plenty of room for supplies. The seams were hand stitched with waxed cord and the cuts were made with a very fine blade, each line uniform yet distinct enough to tell it was made by a person—not by a machine. A bag like this would easily cost a small fortune back in the real world. 

“Were any of these treated for being weatherproof?” Fabrian asked, “I don't want to ruin the bag if it starts to rain or snow.”

“It hardly snows this close to the north, but if you're looking for water resistance, I'd go with this one.” The old woman offered a bag with three straps at the top and a thick crossbody strap along the back side. The cherry colored dye on the leather body gleamed in the sunlight creeping from the entrance of the wagon.

“Then I believe this is yours.” Fabrian offered the carpet bag.

The exchange was settled. 

Once outside again, Netali asked for Fabrian to hand over the queen's clothes. “You can begin your contract for the caravan once we reach the next town, that'll be when I can sell these things for cash. Until then, you're more than welcome to bunk with me in my wagon as you get accustomed to our way of living.  The nomadic life of a merchant isn't for everyone.”

“I'm adaptive—I'll manage just fine.” Fabrian crossed her arms. “Thank you, Netali. You didn't have to help me, especially knowing who I am.”

“I know, I'm such a great person,” Netali grinned. “If you were still her, I'd have asked to be knighted by now.”

“I doubt you'd like me all that much if I were still at the castle.”

“Oh absolutely, I wouldn’t give you the time of day,” Netali agreed a bit too quickly, before returning to where they'd first come from. “C'mon. I’ll show you our food stores and how you can help me with dinner. Welcome to Netali's Traveling Merchants, Fabrian.”

“Thanks for having me.” 

And they fell side by side, in step with one another.