"The Al-Shan people practiced an unusual form of burial. Whereas most people in the mainland buried their dead, usually in coffins or cloth wrap, people in Al-Shan cremated their dead instead.

Traditionally half of the ashes that remained after the cremation would be scattered on a body of water, be it the sea, or a lake. The other half would be buried in a small tomb, which usually housed the ashes of both husband and wife, as well as any unmarried children of theirs." - Elmer Wachowski, scholar of culture from Port Serda.

"You grew up here, Celeysria?" Asked Idania as she walked down the port besides Cal. The older elven woman shivered and hugged herself closely with both arms, despite her thick winter jacket.

In contrast, Cal - as well as most of the dock hands busy at work in the port - only wore a light tunic and trousers, as they seemed to find the early winter chill refreshing. Some dock hands even worked shirtless, exposing their upper bodies to the cold winds as they labored.

"Yes, I did," replied Cal as she took a deep breath of the frigid air, then exhaled in a puff of white. The frigid temperatures evoked many a nostalgic memory from her childhood days, when her parents were still alive and watched over her. "The weather's always refreshing in early winter like this."

"This is refreshing!?" Chimed Leila from behind them. "How cold would it get here in deep winter if early winter is already this cold?"

"We don't consider it deep in the winter here until you can take a pot of boiling water, spray it up into the air, and have it land as ice here," replied Cal with a smirk on her face. "It's not really winter until then."

"Brrrr…." said Leila in turn as she imagined the bone chilling temperatures that would necessitate.

"I assume your father is buried deeper inland, child?" asked Unitia gently as they walked further into the small port town.

"Yes, indeed," Cal replied with a nod. "It'll be most expedient to hire mounts to get there sooner, roughly a three day trip with them, a week without."

"We'll leave it to you then, sister," said Idania. "This is your hometown after all."

The mounts Cal rented were a local breed to Al-Shan. They were a large breed of domesticated horned wolves, easily a meter and a quarter tall at the shoulders, with thick white to light grey fur, and a single, spiraling horn on their foreheads.

Not the best pack animals, but excellent for when you needed to travel fast in wintertime, as carriage services were suspended due to ice and snow clogging the roads. Cal rented one wolf for each of them, minus herself. Four of the wolves dragged a large sled behind them, where Unitia, Lorna, Krystal, and Ilena sat securely, while everyone else was quite eager to try riding their wolves.

It took some getting used to for most of them since the wolves' loping gaits were very different to more stable horses. As per Cal's suggestion, they laid down and hugged the wolves' backs with their bodies instead of sitting on them, and found the ride more pleasant - not to mention warmer - when they did so.

Cal herself walked alongside them with long steps, easily as fast as the wolves, and they made good time in their travels. Diao-Nan was one of the most tamed islands in Al-Shan, and threatening wildlife was a nearly nonexistent thing on the island.

Three days later, they reached a small farming commune located next to a small grove of trees, with a frozen lake forming a triangle to them. Cal led them to the largest farm, where they temporarily entrusted the rented wolves. The middle aged woman who greeted them seemed in awe at Cal's presence, and she quickly asked the woman a few questions in the local language.

Cal bid the family wait for her a moment, while she walked towards the modest wooden house set in the middle of the farm. When she was three quarters the way to the house, an old, balding, but still fit man dressed in simple clothes opened the door and came out. He stood straight and gave her a palm-over-fist salute once she approached.

"Sàng Jiāngjún Ambervale, it is this old man's honor that you visit my humble abode," said the old man.

"Shàngxiào Zhang," said Cal she returned the salute with one of her own. "It pleases me to see you in good health."

"The easy life on the farm does have its charms, Sàng Jiāngjún. So does the lack of heavy responsibilities to shoulder," replied the old man politely as they hugged like old friends. "Pray tell my idiot son is doing fine for himself?"

Zhang Wen had been one of Dinah Haroone's personal guards, and had also known Cal since his younger days, as they had a short lived relationship when he was a teenager. The end of that relationship had also been what spurred young Zhang Wen to seek a different life and join the military. By thirty he had made it to a position as a princess's personal guard… then the civil war erupted.

He remained loyal to the liege he was sworn to protect, and soon found himself fighting side by side with Cal. By then he had long let go of the old flame between them, and had sought a relationship with one of the princess's maids, who bore him a son and a daughter.

During the last decade of the civil war, Zhang Wen had grown too old to fight, but his son Hu-Lao took his place on the frontlines. His daughter and son-in-law were not combatants, but they helped with the logistics during the war.

After the war ended, he retired back to his home village, together with his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren, and lived peacefully in a farm at the village where he grew up.

The same village Cal grew up in, many years before.

"Hu-Lao is doing fine, yes. He's a Jiāngjún now, and one of the most trusted," answered Cal to the old man's question. "He hasn't visited?"

"That scoundrel sends letters every three months, but always has duties that prevent him from visiting his old man," explained Zhang Wen. "At least it's good to hear he's doing well for himself. I do wish he'd bring over the girls for a visit sometimes though."

The girls he referred to were Mustafa's nieces, who he adopted together with Hu-Lao when they became a couple. The old man viewed them as his grandchildren as well, and was quite close with them during the civil war.

"Is my father's grave… fine?" Asked Cal with some trepidation. She has not visited the grave ever since she last stepped foot on Diao-Nan during the civil war a decade ago, and was somewhat worried about its state.

"We kept it cleaned up regularly, though given the snowfall lately it'd likely be buried in snow by now. Should I have Xian-Ni clean it up?"

"No need," Cal said. "It would only be fitting if I cleaned it myself."