We need to know more

“I have a plan.” I say, with all the confidence of a man who has definitely not thought it through all the way.

Io raises an eyebrow, arms crossed, clearly amused. “Oh really?”

“It’s about getting information from the merchants.” I press on, ignoring the skepticism in her tone. “I think that while you haggle with them—”

“Conduct business.” She corrects me smoothly.

“Yes, while you conduct business,” I repeat, rolling my eyes, “I could try to talk with their aides, companions—whoever’s standing around—and try to squeeze something useful out of them.”

Io leans back slightly, considering it. “And you think you can manage that?” she asks, and I can tell she’s testing me. “I know you’ve been learning their language, but are you sure you can get anything worthwhile?”

“Well… I think I can,” I hedge. Which is not exactly the strongest case I could make for myself.

She hums, tapping a finger against her arm. “Let’s assume we go for it. You’ll need a cover story. What if they ask why you’re helping me? Have you thought about that?”

“Uh….”

Right. Cover story. That might have slipped my mind. Still not used to this whole secrecy thing.

“Well…” I scramble for something—anything—that makes sense. “I could try with the marriage excuse.”

Io’s face is utterly unimpressed.

“You bring that up one more time,” she says, voice flat, “and I will start bringing paint for the house.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Fair point.”

“Besides,” she continues, “they already know about me. Do you really think they’d believe one of theirs married one of us?”

…Yeah, that was a dumb idea.

Silence stretches between us. I need to come up with something better.

“There is something,” Io says suddenly.

I look up. “What is it?”

She hesitates for just a second before answering. “It’s… kinda sleazy.”

That is not reassuring. “Go on.”

She meets my gaze, completely serious. “You could pretend you were sent from the church to gather information about the heretics in the forest.”

I blink.

“…And you’d be okay with that?”

Io shrugs. “I suggested it, didn’t I?”

“You know, the church—the same one that—” I catch myself before I finish that thought, remembering our last argument.

Her expression sharpens just a little.

“Thank you,” she says simply.

Right. Not doing that again.

I clear my throat, shifting the subject. “Alright, I can pretend. So when do we start?”

“Tomorrow,” Io answers. “Otmar always has some underling with him. You can try it on him.”

Tomorrow. No pressure or anything.

I’m not great at lying, but I guess I’m about to find out just how well I can fake it.

###

A Merchant’s Loose Tongue

It’s my time to shine.

Io is busy haggling—conducting business—with Otmar, which means I need to focus on his aide. This isn’t casual office chatter over a coffee machine. This is me, gathering intelligence. Playing the part of someone I absolutely am not.

I take a breath and step closer. “So, you came here from Haverstadt?” Not the smoothest opener, but I need to start somewhere.

The young man barely glances at me, more preoccupied with adjusting the straps on a crate. “Isn’t everybody? If you call yourself a merchant, you have to pass through that town.”

Good. He’s talking. Now to keep this going. “I’ve never been personally. How’s the town?”

That makes him pause. He gives me an odd look, like I just claimed to have never seen the sky before. “How do you manage not to visit Haverstadt?”

Shit. My first blunder. I should’ve guessed that Haverstadt is an essential stop for anyone dealing in trade. I scramble for an excuse. “Well, I come from the east,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Never had the chance.”

He seems to consider that for a second before narrowing his eyes. “And what exactly are you doing here?” His voice drops slightly, more suspicious now. “You seem awfully close with that heretic over there.” He tilts his head toward Io. “I could understand if you were a merchant. But you aren’t, are you?”

Great. My interrogation just got reversed. Time to pull out my cover story.

I lean in slightly and lower my voice. “Come here,” I whisper, motioning for him to do the same.

He hesitates but steps closer, intrigued.

“I’m here on the church’s orders to infiltrate the heretics,” I say, my voice low and conspiratorial. “They think I’m just a lost traveler.”

The aide’s eyebrows shoot up. “So… you’re some kind of missionary?” He’s still piecing it together.

“You could say that,” I reply, carefully choosing my words. “Which is why I’m asking about the lands here. I need to understand the people, the rulers, the… situation.”

He nods, slowly. “Ah. You’d be doing a great service to the church, then.”

I resist the urge to exhale in relief.

“Alright,” he says, straightening up. “What do you want to know?”

I try not to let my eagerness show. “Who governs the town?”

The aide blinks. “You don’t know?” There’s actual disbelief in his tone. “It’s Lord Rhenault.”

Lord Alstan Rhenault. The same man who’s supposedly been granted ownership of the forest.

I need to cover for myself. “I… spent many years in a strict monastery,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck like I’m embarrassed. “My knowledge of worldly matters isn’t the best.”

That seems to satisfy him.

“Hm. Well, yes, Lord Rhenault governs the town and a great deal of land around it,” the aide explains. “Recently, his domain expanded. There was even a grand celebration in the cathedral—quite the event, from what I hear.”

That catches my attention. “A celebration in the cathedral? For a land expansion?”

The aide shrugs. “He’s well respected by the church. There’s talk that he was granted the land as a reward for his service. Some say the king himself recognized him for his efforts in the southern campaign.”

Southern campaign? Interesting.

I push forward. “I’ve heard rumors that this forest is now his property. Have you heard anything about that?”

He rubs his chin, thinking. “That may be the case. Last I heard, he’s looking for lumberjacks and woodworkers. Could be related.”

So he is planning to cut the forest down. That’s bad news for us.

I nod, pretending to be impressed. “That would be a profitable endeavor. Just look at all these trees.”

The aide grins. “Exactly.”

One more thing. “Tell me, brother,” I say, shifting the topic slightly. “How is the wheat trade in Haverstadt?”

“For those with wheat, it’s great,” the aide says. “Prices are very high.” He lowers his voice. “But for the common folk? Not so much. Some are struggling to afford bread.”

That tracks with everything I’ve suspected. The famine is real.

“But,” he continues, “Lord Rhenault has ordered a shipment of food for the common folk. No wonder he’s so loved by the church—he truly cares for his subjects.”

That’s interesting. The church and Rhenault are close. But why? I’d love to ask, but that would blow my cover.

I’ve learned about as much as I can from him. Now, I just need to make sure he doesn’t tattle.

“I must ask you, brother,” I say solemnly, “not to mention our talk to anyone. Not even Otmar. I ask this as a humble servant of God.”

Please let these people be monotheistic. I don’t actually know anything about their theology, and if he starts quizzing me, I’m screwed.

The aide nods, looking almost reverent. “Very well. I hope your mission succeeds, and the heretics are dealt with.”

That’s probably the best response I could’ve hoped for.

“Oi, boy! Let’s go,” Otmar calls from the cart. “We have to get back before nightfall.”

“Yes, Mr. Otmar!” the aide responds, hopping onto the wagon.

I watch them leave, still half-expecting something to go horribly wrong.

Instead, the cart rattles off down the road, and I’m left standing there, utterly bewildered.

“…How the hell did that actually work?” I mutter.

Behind me, Io chuckles.

“Did you use the backstory I suggested?” she asks.

“Yeah, I did,” I say, shaking my head. “Do I look like a monk or something? There’s no way that should have gone this smoothly.”

“Well, monks are idiots,” Io quips, smirking. “So you do look the part.”

“Yeah, yeah. Very funny.”

“At least you didn’t get yourself stabbed,” she says, giving me a pat on the shoulder. “So, did you learn anything useful?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll fill you in on the way back.”

With that, we hop onto the wagon and begin the ride back to the village.

###

“Rhenault… that guy again.” The name tastes bitter on my tongue. “I knew he was influential in these parts, but…”

“But it’s weird how he keeps popping up recently,” Nate finishes my thought.

That’s what’s bothering me. I’ve spent years listening, gathering scraps of information from merchants, piecing together the world outside our village. And somehow, I missed this. How? How did I not hear that Lord Rhenault was expanding his domain—right into our home?

It pains me to admit, but maybe… maybe this is thanks to Nate.

I click my tongue. “Good job. You’re finally sort of useful.”

“Thank you very much,” he says, overly proud of himself. As if having a chat with some clueless aide was some kind of grand accomplishment.

I scowl at my own frustration. I’m not annoyed at him—I’m annoyed at myself.

“We need more,” I say, shifting gears. “Think you can manage that trick again?”

Nate grins. “Based on my outstanding performance today, I’d say yes.”

Why is he happy about this? That’s not like him.

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you so smug?”

“Well…” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just glad I actually did something important. That’s all.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Then let’s put your newfound energy to good use.”

He stiffens. “And what would that be?” There’s clear worry in his voice now.

“You’ll be making reports.”

He groans. “Of course.”

“I’ll give you paper,” I continue, ignoring his suffering. “You write everything—every little scrap of information you get from each merchant, each aide, each passerby. It’ll make it easier to convince the chief when the time comes.”

Nate eyes me suspiciously. “Convince him of what?”

“Oh, Nate.” I feign innocence. “Do you think I’m scheming?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” His answer is immediate.

I let out an exaggerated gasp. “Me? No! That’s preposterous!”

He squints at me. “I have never heard you talk like that. What are you planning?”

Damn. He saw right through me. At least it’s amusing.

“Nothing that hasn’t already been said out loud,” I reply smoothly.

He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Hmmm… No. No, you must be joking.” But there’s hesitation in his voice.

I smirk. He’s already figured me out.

“Spit it out,” I say.

Nate exhales through his nose. “The city,” he mutters. Then, after a beat, “You want to go to Haverstadt.”

“That’s right.” I tilt my head. “Don’t act so surprised. You must have realized it already. We have to go.”

Nate lets out a long, weary sigh. “You did say that in front of the chief.”

I nod. “Do you think it’s reckless? Because I’ll tell you now—it is. But we don’t have another choice.”

I glance at the road ahead, the dark outline of the trees lining the path. Despite the weight of the conversation, there’s a thrill in my chest, one I don’t try to push away.

I’ve always dreamed of seeing the outside world. Visiting a real town, a real city. And now—now, I have my chance.

I don’t love the circumstances. But this is my silver lining. I will make this work.

And Nate? He’ll help me.

He stays quiet, lost in thought. Then, finally, he speaks.

“I know,” he says. “I’m just… worried.”

I smirk. “Get used to it.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath.

“We still have time,” I say, more to myself than to him. “We need to know more before we set off. And we will have to convince the chief.”

Nate sighs again. “Great. More reports.”

“See?” I flash him a grin. “You are useful.”

###

Reports, reports, reports. You’d think I’d be used to them by now. I had to file plenty of them back in my office days—financial summaries, performance assessments, all that mind-numbing corporate nonsense. But this? This is something else entirely. It’s not just the language barrier, though that’s still a hurdle. It’s the subject matter itself.

Politics. Trade. Military movements. The delicate balance of power in a land I barely understand.

I glance down at my notes, the ink drying in uneven strokes. My handwriting in this language is still awful, but at least it’s legible. More or less.

All these meetings, all this gathering of scraps of information, and what do I have to show for it? A handful of disconnected facts and a growing sense of unease.

Let’s see…

Lord R. I’ve shortened his name in my notes because writing Rhenault every time is tedious. Io hasn’t complained about it yet, but I wouldn’t put it past her to mock me for it later. He governs Town H (yes, another lazy shorthand), and from what I’ve gathered, he’s deeply involved with the local church, which—surprise, surprise—has a major influence over politics.

I pause, tapping my quill against the paper.

“I still don’t get it,” I mutter. “How is it that the church here survived for so many centuries? Back home, the oldest religions I know of are maybe four thousand years old, tops.”

Io, sitting across from me, raises an eyebrow. “That’s what’s on your mind?”

“I mean, yeah.” I gesture vaguely at my notes. “This church has been around since your people and the others split, right? That’s an absurd amount of time for any institution to survive. Most civilizations don’t even last that long.”

She shrugs. “It’s not really the same religion that started back then. It’s changed over time, adopted new things, lost others. Some beliefs carried through, but the rest… people reshape faith to fit their world.”

I nod slowly, absorbing that. It makes sense. Religions aren’t static—they evolve. Even back home, the ones that survived did so by adapting.

Io leans forward. “Are you finished with the report yet, or are we going to debate theology all night?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

In truth, I’m actually kind of enjoying all this. Information gathering. Pattern recognition. It’s like putting together a massive puzzle, except the pieces are scattered across a dozen different conversations, half-truths, and carefully worded merchant deals. If this weren’t my actual life, it’d be kind of thrilling.

Lord R was behind those grain shipments we saw earlier. Seeing as he’s also been sending food for the poor in Town H, he must have some solid connections in the wheat trade. But here’s the weird part—I still can’t tell if this supposed famine is real or just a manufactured crisis. Everything suggests it’s coming, yet there’s no outright panic, no drastic shortages. Just… movement.

And then there’s the problem of the forest.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I still don’t get what we’re supposed to do about Rhenault owning the land. If he actually lived in the city, maybe we could talk to him—”

Io snorts. “And say what?”

“Yeah, exactly. Even if we somehow got an audience with him, what would we tell him? Excuse me, my lord, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t level the entire forest and displace an entire village?”

“That’d go over well.”

I shake my head. “This is disappointing. I guess you were right. We do need to go to the city.”

Io smirks. “I know.”

“Yeah, yeah. No need to sound so smug about it.”

She stretches lazily, her confidence in this whole plan somehow unwavering. “At least it brings me some comfort knowing I didn’t miss anything absurdly important when I was doing everything alone.”

“…Yeah, about that.” I tap my quill against the table. “Am I the first partner you’ve had for all this?”

She tilts her head, considering. “Well, the first one that made it past the first week.”

I blink. “That’s… not reassuring.”

Io shrugs. “Surprising, really, seeing as neither of us are particularly well-liked.”

“I guess so.” I sigh. “Well, it looks like we’re stuck together for the foreseeable future. If we’re really going through with this, we need a backstory.”

Io’s eyes glint with mischief.

“We already have one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t say it.”

She grins. “That’s right, husband.”

I groan, slamming my forehead onto the table.

Io chuckles, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, come on. It worked once, didn’t it?”

“This is my punishment, isn’t it?”

She leans back, satisfied. “You brought this on yourself.”

“In all seriousness,” Io continues, shifting gears, “we need clothes that fit the part. We can’t exactly stroll into the city looking like—well, us.”

“Agreed. We’ll also need provisions. A spare cart, a horse…”

“What about money?”

“I’ve got some saved up,” she says. “Not all deals are won through barter.”

That surprises me a little, but I don’t comment on it.

“Can we bring merchandise with us? Wool, maybe?”

Io nods. “That makes sense. We should also pack food—enough to last us in case we can’t find an inn.”

“And when we do get to the city? What then?” I ask. “Gathering information is one thing, but stopping the deforestation? That’s another.”

“We improvise.”

I stare at her. “That’s your plan?”

She shrugs. “What else can we do? I’ve been thinking… maybe you could use some of your knowledge to gain favor in the city.”

I frown. “Io, that sounds an awful lot like showing off—which, in case you forgot, is a great way to get me burned at the stake.”

“If that happens, I’d probably be right there with you. Remember, if anyone sees the tips of my ears, we’re both done for.”

I let out a breath. “So we’re throwing ourselves headfirst into danger.”

“Pretty much.”

“This doesn’t scare you?”

She hesitates. “…Of course it does.” For a moment, she looks almost unsure. Then, a small smile. “But I won’t deny—it’s a little exciting too.”

I give her a look. “Exciting, huh?”

She smirks. “If you ignore the whole ‘potentially getting arrested or executed’ part, it’s practically an adventure.”

I shake my head, but despite myself, I can’t help but see it too. If our circumstances were different, this would be an amazing trip.

But they aren’t.

I made a promise to the chief—to keep an eye on her. To keep her from doing something reckless. To make sure she makes it back.

…Though, knowing Io, she’ll probably be the one keeping me alive.

I glance at her, watching the flicker of excitement in her expression.

“We make a good team, don’t you think?” I ask.

She opens her mouth, probably about to make some teasing remark, but then stops. For a moment, she actually considers it.

“…Yeah. It works.”

Coming from her, that might be the highest praise I’ll ever get.