The trio had been walking along the soddy dirt road until the morning light began to peak above the horizon. Once Dallin noticed this he pulled the boys off to the side and they made a small camp just out of sight of the road.
"We need to lay low for a while. Once we reach the King's Highway we should be in the clear. There's so many elves there that even you won't stand out." said Dallin who pointed at Paul.
"This wasn't supposed to happen… I'm sorry Dallin…" Paul replied. It had been the first words he uttered since they left Southwold.
"Oh quit weeping, I know it's not. It's the brat's fault. No not Wystan, that Lynwood bastard. He shouldn't have tried to stab you in the back. We need to get to the capitol. Once we get there the Baron will have to answer to the Steward to come after you, and the Steward isn't too fond of the Detêmri."
"The what?"
"Detêmri, High Born, Noble. All the same snobby rich bastards who supposedly own the land. Wystan and me are wanihndrê, low born, peasants. And you… well, you're non-elf… so we had better make you a disguise. We can do that after we rest though. I'm tired and me bones ache fiercely. Lay down, rest awhile, and when the sun sets we will be off again."
* * *
The rest the trio received was lackluster, as it turns out, sleeping on the ground is not very comfortable. But, it beats being ran down like prey. Once the sun began to hide itself behind the mountains they strode onto the road once more. This time, both Paul and Wystan were a bit more talkative. The shock had seemed to have worn off.
Paul, in his boredom, had been asking many questions about the King's Highway, much to Dallin's annoyance.
"So, this pilgrimage. What's that all about?" Paul said.
"Well, when an elf gets to be around three or so thousand years old, it gets a bit hard to move around. So, the Ascension is the journey to a resting place. There, we will wait until Erowin's punishment is fulfilled, and he carries us back into paradise." Dallin's answer was gruff and quick.
"I see... Who's Erowin? I've heard the name and I just thought he was some god or something."
"Nay, Erowin is much more powerful than any god, boy. He is a titan, a being of such great size that you would never be able to witness his whole form at one time. He carries us upon his back as he wanders the outer dark."
"Uh-huh, so this is your religion then?"
"I would call it my faith, some would pray to some god or daemon. I'd rather pray to something I can see."
"Wait, you can see this thing?"
"Titan, and aye. To the east, if you peek over the edge you can see his right hand holding our world steady. To the west, you can find his left hand in the same way. To the north, if you peeked over the edge, and looked very hard. You can almost see the back of his head!"
Paul wasn't convinced, but he figured it's best to let people believe what they want.
"So, where are we? I mean what country, where in the world. All I could get from the monks was that the place is called Baragrud."
"Aye, we are in the Kingdom of Baragrud. Old place, though I fear it may be getting too old sometimes."
"I see, and who is the king?"
"Baragrud, like the name would imply boy. Though, really it's King Baragrud and the Nikem who rule."
"What are Nikem?"
"Not what, who. The Nikem is a sort of mouthpiece for Erowin. They pass along his messages to the people."
"I see, so a religious leader then?"
"Aye, that's a good way to put it."
"What's the capitol like?"
"Far too large, and too many elves for my taste."
"What-"
"Boy, you should wait for a while in between questions. You're starting to get on me nerves."
"Sorry..."
Wystan snickered behind them. Paul had enough to mull around for a while, so it was no big deal.
* * *
They had been on the road for about two hours before Wystan started to complain.
"My legs are tired, let me have a turn on the mule, old man!"
"Don't whine. You're not a child anymore, so I won't treat you like one. Anyways, what if Paul is tired as well?"
"No, I'm fine. Actually I feel great, I'm not even slightly tired...which makes no sense. I'm not exactly, uh, in shape."
"See! He's fine, so let me have a turn!"
"Fine! Hop on the damn mule you brat." Dallin slid off the mules back, and let Wystan have a turn.
"How do you have so much energy, Paul? I've seen you do hard labor for hours on end without taking a single break. That's not normal, did you make some kind of deal with a Daemon or fey of sorts?"
"No, I mean, I don't think I have. I'm not sure, Dallin. I normally wouldn't walk for this long anyways, so I would have thought I would be tired too..."
"Is that so? Well, I suppose I don't know how hoomans are normally, anyways."
* * *
After resting the day away behind some bushes near the road, Paul took the time to record some of the knowledge he acquired. Writing with a quill was somewhat difficult. Since it was from memory, some of the information was probably missing, but he could fix that later. That and the meager light of a full moon wasn't too helpful.
"You've been to Barrus before, right Dallin?" Paul asked the old elf as he packed the mule.
"Oh this again is it? Aye boy, I have."
"What is there to do in Barrus?"
"Whatever you want," Dallin answered. "There are guilds to see, an extensive market, though it's a tad bit expensive. And of course, there's the Mage tower in Baragrud. Though I'd steer clear of mages boy, you canny trust a mage."
Paul scribbled all this into his journal, pausing after writing 'Mage Tower' in capital letters before continuing his interrogation. Wystan had started to grumble and eye him disapprovingly, but Paul couldn't help it; he needed to keep his mind occupied with something.
"Yesterday you mentioned that this kingdom was very old. How old?"
"Old," Dallin began with a chuckle. "Older than me grandfather. It's not the oldest though, not even close."
"How old is your grandfather?" Paul asked, quill poised over parchment.
"Well, he is around eight thousand by now... I haven't seen him since his ascension so I canny know for sure."
"Eight thousand years… Are you sure?" Said Paul.
"Aye, he ascended at about three thousand or so, very common for an elf. Why do you sound so surprised?"
Paul waited a moment, "Well… It's just that it dosn't seem possible is all…"
"Hah, of course it doesn't to you. You're one of the mortal races, everyone who isn't an elf is mortal."
"You're not actually immortal though, I mean, Lynwood died…"
"Nay, Lynwood was killed, had that not have happened, he would live forever like all elves. We don't die Paul, we just… get old. So old that it's hard to move about, or even old enough to forget how to speak. That's why ascension is important."
Paul jotted all this down into the journal, and continued to pester Dallin until he stopped answering. Wystan had also grown annoyed with Paul's constant interrogation, but he couldn't stop. He felt as if he needed to keep his mind chewing on something, keep it busy.
"How could someone think of so many things to ask? You must be dull if you can't grasp common sense, Paul!" Wystan was mocking him. Some things are the same no matter what race, and teens being rude was definitely one.
* * *
Upon reaching the King's Highway the trio began traveling in the daylight, which was somewhat refreshing. Now at least Paul could write with more accuracy.
"How long until we arrive at Barrus?"
"By nightfall, hopefully."
The trio walked along the King's Highway during the heat of the day. After passing Trita, Paul noticed that the road had been fairly well maintained, and there were a few travelers even.
"Ah, and so begins the chaos. Keep an eye on your belongings, boys."
"Is theft common on the road?" asked Paul.
Dallin chuckled, "Nay, too many elves. I'm talking about the traveling merchants. Savage bastards will try to haggle the clothes off your back, if you so much as look at 'em."
Paul found that Dallin had not been joking, they literally tried to get him to trade his clothes. Baubles, spices, good luck charms, all in exchange for whatever he had. The whole experience was jarring. After a few more hours of being asked for a moment of their time every few minutes, Paul gave up. He looked down as he walked, and did his best to ignore everyone but Dallin and Wystan. Thankfully this helped.
Paul thought the image of paving stones might be branded into his mind when he heard Wystan gasp. He turned to look at the young elf, and followed his eyes off into the distance. There, far along the road was a massive stone wall. Around the wall, was a multitude of buildings of various shapes and sizes. The city was illuminated by the descending sun.
"Only a bit longer, boys."