First time leaving

The days leading up to our departure pass in a blur of preparation.

Supplies are gathered. Clothes are adjusted to make us look the part. The cart is checked and rechecked. Every night, Io and I go over our cover story until we can recite it in our sleep.

By the time we’re ready to leave, the village feels different. Maybe it’s just me, knowing that for the first time since I arrived, I’ll be stepping beyond its borders for something other than a quick errand.

The morning air is crisp as we load the last of our things onto the cart. Io adjusts the reins, making sure everything is in place, while I glance back at the village one last time.

“Second thoughts?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

I exhale, shaking my head. “No. Just… taking it in.”

She nods, then flicks the reins. The horse starts forward, the cart creaking under the weight of our supplies.

###

The road stretches endlessly before us, a ribbon of packed dirt winding between golden fields and patches of dense woodland. The late afternoon sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the landscape. The sound of the cart wheels creaking, the steady clop of the horse’s hooves, and the occasional rustling of the wind in the trees make up most of the journey’s soundtrack.

It’s strange. I’ve lived my whole life surrounded by the dense embrace of the forest, where the world feels enclosed, familiar, safe in its own way. Out here, it’s all open sky and endless land, and I can’t quite decide if I find it freeing or unsettling.

“Doesn't this feel weird for you?” Nate asks, his voice cutting through the rhythm of travel.

I glance at him. “Why only me? What about you?”

“Well, yeah, for me too,” he admits, adjusting his grip on the reins. “But shouldn’t it be weirder for you? Like, for me, it’s just another part of the whole new life in another world thing. But you… this is your first time leaving home, right?”

I hesitate, then nod. “Well, yes.”

There’s a pause before I continue. “I guess it is weird.” I look around at the fields stretching on either side of the road. “All we can see now is this—dirt roads, crops, the occasional farmhouse in the distance. It’s not exactly exciting. But the city…” I trail off, uncertain. “It worries me. And excites me.”

All the convincing I had to do to get the chief to agree to this, all the planning—it actually made me excited. It’s been a long time since I felt this way, the last time being when Nate showed up out of nowhere. That was a new experience, too.

“Did you travel a lot back in your world?” I ask, casting him a sideways glance.

He shakes his head. “Not really. I basically knew the world from pictures and screens, hardly saw anything myself.”

“So, in a way, this is also your first big journey?”

He considers that for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. You could say that.”

I wonder how it will turn out. Not just the part where we gather intelligence or negotiate—we’ve done that before. But traveling together, just the two of us, relying only on each other for days on end… that’s something new. We’ve known each other for months, but this will be the first time we have no one else to fall back on.

Nate must be thinking the same thing, because after a stretch of silence, he suddenly says, “Isn’t it weird? We’ve lived in the same house for a while now, but this is the first time we’ve been alone together for this long.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That bothers you?”

“No, just… noticing it.”

He’s not wrong. In the village, there was always someone around—elders, workers, kids darting between houses. Now, it’s just us.

I turn my gaze back to the road. “Nate, I have a question.”

“Go on.”

“What are the marriage customs back in your home?”

He stiffens like I just hit him with a thrown rock. If he had been drinking, I’m fairly certain he’d have choked.

“That’s… random,” he says after a beat.

I smirk. “It’s just curiosity. You ask me random things all the time.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Hmm. I guess it depends on faith or culture. Some people do it for religious reasons, others just… because they want to.”

I nod. “That’s somewhat similar. We’re not religious, but the others…” I gesture toward the ridiculous veil covering my head—part of our disguise.

Nate snickers. “Yeah. You know, back home, brides only wear a veil on their wedding day. So this whole thing?” He motions toward my head. “It’s pretty weird to me.”

I scoff. “I have to agree.”

“We also wear rings. Well, people do.”

“You don’t?”

“Well, I’m not married,” he says. “Never have been.”

So he’s just like me in that regard. Though I wonder… “Was no one pushing you to get married?”

He gives me a suspicious look. “Are you asking because they were pushing you?”

I shrug. “Apparently, I’m too old to stay single. At least, according to some people.” Then I point at him. “But don’t try to do that.”

Nate huffs a short laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. But no, no one ever pushed me.”

“No nosey aunts, siblings, or parents pestering you?” I prod, amused.

There’s a pause. A little too long. Then he says, “No. Just me.”

I don’t press further. I had a feeling he didn’t have much family, but hearing it said so plainly… it’s different. I’m not much better—I don’t talk about my family either. Maybe that’s something we have in common. For now, I let the subject drop.

A few minutes pass, the cart rolling along as the sky begins to darken. Then, as if wanting to break the silence, Nate asks, “So why were you asking about marriage, anyway?”

“No reason,” I say, stretching slightly in my seat. “We have time to kill, and this ridiculous thing got me thinking.” I flick at the veil with a finger.

That’s not exactly a lie. But maybe the whole thing about pretending to be married also had something to do with it.

We fall into another comfortable silence. I let my thoughts wander—how we’re getting closer to the city, how much work we still have to do when we get there. I know we’ve prepared, but it still feels like stepping into foreign, unpredictable waters.

Nate pulls out a set of notes, flipping through them. “We’ll need to stop for the night soon. Based on the merchants’ descriptions, we should reach Haverstadt tomorrow.”

“If they weren’t lying about the distance,” I add.

Nate chuckles. “Yeah. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

The road ahead stretches on, and with it, our journey into the unknown.

###

The inn stands at the edge of the village, a sturdy wooden building with a sloped roof and thick beams, clearly built to withstand harsh seasons. Lanterns hang at the entrance, their dim light flickering in the dusk, casting long shadows over the dirt road. Smoke drifts lazily from the chimney, carrying the scent of roasted meat and woodsmoke. The promise of warmth and rest. Finally.

We’ve been on the road all day. My arms ache from gripping the reins for so long. I’m lucky driving a cart doesn’t require a license—because I’d have failed the test within the first mile. Still, I think I’m getting the hang of it.

Io stretches as she dismounts, rolling her shoulders. “Go in and ask where we can leave the cart for the night.”

A reminder of our agreed dynamic. In public, I’m the one who takes charge—the confident merchant, the one leading our little operation. It’s strange, considering how our usual roles work. But it makes sense. A lone woman trader in a place like this would be suspicious. A man playing the part of a merchant? That’s normal.

I nod and step inside.

The air inside is thick with the scent of ale, bread, and damp wool. A few patrons sit hunched over wooden tables, speaking in hushed voices. It’s not lively, but it’s not dead either. Just another roadside inn where people stop, eat, and move on.

At the far end, a grizzled old man stands behind what I can only describe as the medieval equivalent of a check-in desk. I approach with my best “I totally belong here” face.

“Good evening, sir. We’ll be staying for the night. Is there somewhere we can leave our horse and cart?” I ask, gesturing through the window.

Straight to business. No hesitation. Just like we practiced.

The man barely looks up from whatever ledger he’s scribbling in. “Back of the inn. Trough’s full.” His voice is gruff, like someone who’s spent a lifetime speaking only when necessary.

I nod. “Alright.”

That went… well? I guess? No questions, no second glances. I was expecting more resistance, but if this guy cares, he’s doing a great job of hiding it.

I step back outside, letting Io know the cart situation, and together, we guide the horse around to the back. Once it’s settled, we grab our provisions and luggage and head inside.

Io stops dead in her tracks, arms crossed, eyes locked onto something in my hands.

“Seriously?” she says, her voice somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion.

“What?” I follow her gaze—oh.

She’s staring at the sack of potatoes I’ve snuck into our luggage.

“I couldn’t just leave them. They’re the product of my labor!” I say, holding the sack defensively.

Io pinches the bridge of her nose. “Mhm, your labor. Sure.”

“They’re good for travel! Small, filling—practical.” I pause. “And sentimental.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Fine. But you’re cooking them.”

“Deal.”

As we enter the main hall, I barely have time to open my mouth before the old man at the desk lights up at the sight of Io.

“Good day, young lady! I’ve picked out a perfect room for you two! Please take the key—it’s upstairs.”

He practically beams at her.

Excuse me? Where was that enthusiasm when I checked in?

Io nods politely, accepting the key with a small smile. I don’t miss the subtle shift in her expression—the same kind of amused patience she gets when dealing with particularly irritating merchants.

I clear my throat. “Uh, thank you, sir.”

The man spares me a glance, expression neutral. A slight nod. Bare minimum acknowledgment.

Right. Got it. Io’s the favorite. I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

At least we weren’t interrogated. That’s a win.

The stairs creak under our weight as we head up. The hallway is narrow, dimly lit by a single candle on a wall sconce. The air smells faintly of wood polish and old fabric.

Io unlocks the door and steps inside. I follow, setting our bags down.

The room is… simple. A wooden table, a washbasin, and a small window overlooking the village road. It’s clean, at least.

And then, we both notice it.

“Is that—” I start.

“—a one-bed,” Io finishes, amusement clear in her voice.

She bursts into laughter.

I rub the back of my neck. “Well… I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

Io waves a hand dismissively. “No, we’re paying for the bed, so we’re using the bed.”

That’s… a very practical take.

Still, something about it makes my brain short-circuit for a second. I don’t know why. We’ve lived under the same roof for months now. This shouldn’t be a big deal.

“It’s a good thing, really,” Io continues. “That innkeeper must have really believed we were married. Means our disguise is working.”

I exhale. “Right. That’s the important part.”

Io pulls off the veil and tosses it onto the table with a relieved sigh. “Finally free of that stupid thing.”

Fair. She’s been wearing it all day, just in case someone caught a glimpse of her ears on the road. I can’t imagine it was comfortable.

I sit on the edge of the bed, rolling my shoulders. The journey is catching up to me. “We should eat something, then get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Io nods, stretching her arms. “Agreed. And you owe me a meal, potato hoarder.”