The ride to Journey was uneventful. Other than a few breaks to relieve themselves and feed the horses, it was just hours on the road with little to see other than sparse trees and dry fields. Only after they got within a few kilometers of their destination did the land start to get hilly, signalling their proximity to the Central Range, the mountain range Era was from.

“Ah, this is familiar,” Era smiled, her milky eyes taking in the surroundings. Calla had no idea how much she could truly see. “In my childhood,” she began to recount, “on the few occasions my family went off the mountains, my siblings and I would spend hours running around on these hills as our parents did business.”

Calla hummed, “Are we approaching Alta?”

The old woman shook her head, “No, not yet. The only road there is through Honor, so we’ve still got a ways to go.”

“We’re almost to Journey!” the driver called out, “We’ll have to deal with the border guards, it could take a while,” he warned.

Era tutted, “Those damn border guards. All this bureaucracy and for what?”

“Does it take a while to get through?” Calla asked.

She nodded, “Most definitely. I’ve gotten through in minutes a few times, but other times it takes many hours.”

“Hm, well, I hope I can get some reading in.”

“You’ll have plenty of time,” Era assured.

As they pulled into Journey, the sun began to set and Calla’s chest grew heavier and heavier. The ruins of the stone homes were the last pieces of her mother’s hometown. She sighed deeply, to which Era watched her curiously, and shoved her nose deep in the second book she brought. The story book one had been packed away, it wasn’t helpful. 

This one was called The Tradition of Mages. It seemed that mages preferred flowy, loose clothing, mimicking the robes of the wizards. Wizards were mages prior to the new age of magic, an era where mana was much less common in humans. Warriors had no such counterpart. Perhaps the old knights of chivalry? Either way, this book was a suitable distraction. By the time Calla looked up from its pages, they were at the hastily-constructed wall between Laurel and Daphne. It was stone, but the pieces were not cut deliberately, instead simply stacked in a stable-enough manner. Between them and the gate, a line of other carriages stood waiting.

Era looked over to Calla, “This shouldn’t take too long, I’ve seen the line much longer than this.”

She nodded, then returned her attention to the book. Mages, like her mother said, valued the advancement of knowledge over everything else. Some cities, such as the Northern-most city of Edelweiss, Valley, were hubs of magic research. In fact, almost the entire state of Redoak is made up of mages. Another hub was Lapis of Magnolia, the neighboring state to Laurel and Daphne. 

After around fifteen minutes, it was almost their turn at the gate. Era tapped Calla’s shoulder to get her attention. “Get your papers out,” she suggested.

Calla nodded and set the book down. She dug around in her bag, and it took just long enough for her to start to panic, before she finally found it. “Got it,” she sighed in relief.

The wagon pulled up to the gate. A guard addressed them, “State your purpose.”

The driver handed the guard his permit. Then the guard walked to Era’s side of the wagon, “Your paper, please.” Era handed him a hefty packet of papers, which the guard leafed through quickly. He handed them back with a nod. The guard looked at Calla. She held out the letter. The guard took it, inspected it, then looked back up at Calla, “A mage? From Daphne?”

Calla nodded. “Yes. That is an official letter from the empire, sir.” Her parents had instructed her on what to say if questioned. A mage from Daphne is few and far between, after all. The guard once again inspected the letter, paying close attention to the empire’s stamped seal. He then gave up the letter, though it seemed begrudging, and let them through. 

“You’re a mage, dear?” Era inquired, milky eyes more surprised than Calla’d seen them the entire trip thus far, though that wasn’t much of a statement. 

“Um…” Calla hesitated, “I am, yes.”

The old lady hummed, “You certainly don’t look it. The Empire likes those who look like what they are.” She handed her ten Lels, “You’d be good to buy yourself some Laurel clothing, you’ll get less attention that way.”

Calla refused the offer, “I don’t need the cash, really. My parents gave me more than enough for the journey.”

Era huffed, staring pointedly at her. “How about I say it this way, the Empire considers warriors nothing but tools to die in war. You are dressed like a sacrifice.” The old woman looked off for a pregnant moment, then returned her gaze to Calla, “I apologize for my harsh language.”

Calla didn’t know how to feel. She was stunned mostly. “I… like the way I dress,” she muttered pathetically.

The old woman seemed almost livid, “You are going to Honor, the city of Folia and Nobility. If you do not dress the part, you will be nothing but a laughing stock,” Era all but yelled. “I know because I was in my youth. My first visit to my nation’s capital was nothing but ridicule, all because I dressed like a ‘Magnolian monk.’” Era slumped in her seat, somehow getting shorter than she already was. 

The driver seemed to be trying to ignore the conversation. Calla felt like crying, her head felt dizzy with blood. Era was breathing heavily.

“If you want to have a peaceful time in Laurel,” the lady spoke carefully, “Please, and I say this for both of our sakes, dress the part.”

Calla nodded slowly.

. . .

The wagon reached Mayday village in the dead of night. Everyone was exhausted, horses included. The driver, Calla, and Era all stayed in the same inn. Calla didn’t have enough energy to check its name. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a candle on a windy day.

In the morning, Calla was dragged to a clothing store. True to Era’s words, Calla was getting plenty of stares, even for one of the villages closest to Daphne. “This is a shop I’ve been to a few times,” the old woman introduced, “It has perfectly practical apparel, for Laurel anyway.” It was a small but tall building made of what appeared to be mud-straw bricks and wood supports, similar to that of Voyage. The sign outside was written in characters Calla didn’t recognize.

Clothes lined the walls, even some on the ceiling. It was intimidating, especially compared to Voyage. In a warrior village, clothing was considered something only to keep decency. Daphne never got too cold or too rainy, and warriors have thick skin. Literally. In Mayday, it seemed, they thought decency to be a good thing. All of the clothing covered everything it possibly could, except the neck and collarbone. If it didn’t cover everything, there were tall socks or gloves close by. As soon as Calla entered the store, she knew this was going to be a long day.

“Skirts are exclusive to formal events,” Era explained, “Jewelry is kept sparse and light.” She grabbed a few pieces off the wall, holding them up to Calla, “Coverage is preferred everywhere except the knees and shoulders.” She spoke like a tutor, something Calla had only ever read about, teaching her the ins-and-outs of proper fashion.

Calla nodded slowly, “Okay…” Her hand ghosted across the occasional garment, rubbing the material between her fingers. “There are some things I can’t compromise on,” she stated. “I can’t get rid of my cap, and I’ll always wear my necklace.” Caps are an important part of warrior culture. Caps are used to hold the hair up, though eventually they gained meaning as a good luck charm. “The necklace was a gift from my grandmother.”

Era glanced over. She was weighed down by the many garments she picked out for Calla to try on. She sighed, “Fine. Have it your way.”

. . .

Calla stood in front of a mirror for the first time in years. True mirrors were too expensive for their small village to buy. She was wearing longer shorts than she’d ever owned, with rounded ends; a flowy top tucked into the waistband, clasped with two metal buttons, bunched at the top and held around her neck. It was the only top without sleeves, an invention Calla discovered she abhorred. Her legs had black socks that came up to just under her knees, and she was wearing simple, brown leather shoes. According to Era, sandals are not common attire in Laurel. 

Her necklace, a thick gold band, remained, as did her gloves and arm band. Her cap, too, still stood tall on her head. With a final, uncomfortable glance, Calla stepped out of the dressing room.

Era gasped, “You dress up well, dear.” A smirk grew on the old woman’s face as she fretted over the tall girl.

“I feel… frumpy,” Calla decided upon.

The old woman scoffed a laugh, “That’s a given. The capital values appearances over practicality.”

Calla mimed swinging a greatsword as well as she could in the small shop. “At least it doesn’t hinder my movement.”

“You don’t look like a true Laurelite,” Era began, “but without the bands and the hat, you wouldn’t immediately scream ‘Duph.’”

Calla’s eyes fell to the floor, scanning the texture of the carpet for nothing. “Are duphs… treated differently in Laurel?”

Era humphed, “That’s a tough one. Daphne is primarily warriors, yes?” Calla nodded, “And warriors are seen as lesser in Laurelite society. So, despite duphs not all being warriors, they’re seen in a similar light. You, as a duph mage, will likely be similar to… a circus attraction.”

“What a nice way to put it,” Calla thought. “So I should try to assimilate myself with Laurel as much as possible?”

“Depends what you’re looking to get out of your experience in Honor,” Era countered, “If you want to be ogled at, stay true to yourself.”

“You’re so mean,” Calla whined.

The old woman seemed to get some sort of pride out of that, “I’m simply being a realist. I know all too well what those Honor-born nobles feel about outsiders.”

. . .

Calla left the store wearing the outfit, and carrying plenty more items. “For winter,” Era had said. The shopkeeper had cheerfully sent them off, “Thanks for visiting Mayday May-Wears!” Calla wasn’t sure how much it all cost, but she decided to simply not think about it and thank the old woman for her help.

It was getting close to the afternoon by the time they left, so Calla decided to stop by a restaurant before heading to Mayday’s north entrance. It was extraordinarily delicious, but Calla’s standards were probably low. Her mother had incredible words about the food in villages large enough to get seasoning. The merchants carrying such luxury goods never stopped in Voyage, only passed through.

Now well-fed, Calla met up with Era and the driver at the gate and they quickly set off for Order, the city between them and the capital. “Order is much larger than any stop we’ve been at,” Era said, “Though it’s the smallest city in Laurel. It’s known for elaborate theater productions, so nobles frequent it for brief respites.”

“I’ve never seen a play,” Calla mumbled.

The old woman shook her head, “I doubt you can afford a ticket.” Era leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “If you want to go cheap, you have to visit during the off-season and look for ‘late hour shows.’”

Calla looked confused. “What’s the ‘off-season?’”

“It’s summer right now,” Era explained, “Nobles don’t often leave the capital during the winter. If they do, they go to Sycamore or southern Magnolia.”

Magnolia was Laurel’s neighboring state, known more formally as the Kingdom of Magnolia. The Republic of Sycamore was the Southwestern-most state, most often simply called Sycamore.

“I’ve never been,” Era began, “but I’ve heard Sycamore is simply gorgeous. It’s the most fertile land in Edelweiss, so it’s where Laurel imports all of its fruit from.”

“The only fruit I’ve ever had is grapes and wild berries,” Calla said in awe. “Do mangoes actually exist?” Daphne’s main export is grapes and wine.

The old woman nodded, smiling warmly, “They do, and they’re sinfully delicious. A gift from Gaia, I’d say.”

. . .

Order was the prettiest town Calla had ever seen. The cobble stone was white, the buildings made of brick and topped with tiled roofs, and there were canals with delightful bridges going over them. Each building had more glass windows than in the entirety of Voyage, where most windows were slatted wood and small doors. “It’s beautiful,” Calla commented as they made their way through the gate.

Era laughed mirthfully, “Just wait until you see the capital, dear.”

Calla shook her head, a smile donned on her face, “I can’t even begin to imagine how it gets better than this!”

The city was bustling. Professional-looking people walked this way and that, people were entering and exiting every building, and boats passed under them as they went over a canal. “I’ve never seen this many people in one place before,” Calla oohed and awed at the sights.

“You truly are rural!” Era burst into laughter, her wrinkled face warm and happy.

The duph nodded, agreeing. “I’ve heard that Odyssey is ornate, but I’ve never been.”

“I’ve heard words similar. They say Odyssey is one of the largest gatherings of artisans in Edelweiss,” Era furthered.

The wagon came to a stop, and the two passengers hopped out.

“There has to be some good food to eat,” Calla wondered to herself, glancing around at the many shops that surrounded the pair. She turned to Era, “Do you know what the signs say?”

Era looked shocked for a moment before she quickly collected herself, “I completely forgot!” she seemed ashamed, “You can’t read Edrel.”

The girl listened around, and she could understand everything the passerbys were saying. “Edrel?” she asked.

“We speak the same language,” Era explained, “but we write it differently. In Laurel, we use characters instead of letters.” She dragged Calla over to a specific storefront, pointing up at the hanging sign, “That says ‘Ruby’s Restaurant.’ There’s the character for ruby, the circle with a line through it, and the character for restaurant, which looks like a flame in a house.”

≡(c|> /> <(⊂<-

“Ruby’s Restaurant”

Calla groaned, “I had no idea Laurel had a whole new way of writing!”

The old woman chuckled, “It’s not as hard as you think it is. They’re just standard drawings put together to convey meaning. I’ll help you with the basics on our way to Honor.”

The pair wandered around Order’s shopping center for a few hours. Calla didn’t have enough money to buy much, so she spent too long mulling over what to buy. Eventually, she decided to buy a wrist watch. Electricity was a recent invention, still something Duphs could only dream of, but magic was not. It was imbued with a detection spell from a fire mage, allowing it to finely track the position of the sun. The watch wasn’t cheap at twenty Lels, but Calla thought it a practical purchase, especially compared to the pastries that were the same price.

It was time to hit the road again. As they rolled across the dirt road towards Calla’s final destination, Era helped her learn the basics of Edrel writing. Eventually, the cart pulled into the capital of the Laurel Empire: Honor.