The city of Elova was rich and sprawling. Brunhilde and Hope entered from the north, passing the farms and vineyards of warm rolling hills. Brunhilde hunted rabbits and foxes, and stole fruit and the occasional lamb to eat along the way. Hope complained bitterly about the loss of their riches in the storm, but Brunhilde was glad to be around living things and fertile lands. Though the sun was baking hot, the lush trees and grass made it bearable. As they approached the coast the cooling breezes refreshed them both.

Brunhilde’s spirits were lifted even more by the smell of the sea. She had heard of this great inland sea that went west and also south in places, giving traders all sorts of access to ports. There were legends it had once been an immense valley kingdom, drowned in a flood. There could be cities of lost wonder underneath the sea. She wanted to take a ship and explore, but she still owed a life-debt to Hope, she must protect the princess until she could save her life.

Hope became a little happier at the sight of houses, proper wooden multi-storied houses filled with families. Though they saw the occasional guard post and patrol, there were no walls surrounding the city. It was too diffuse, and unwilling to limit itself to any sort of boundary. They merely kept walking south and found themselves in cobbled streets surrounded by houses, workers and traders.

To Brunhilde, Elova looked rich, fat and unprotected, like a rich drunkard sprawled out sleeping in his finery. Hope thought it primitive but at least comfortable to stay in.

They arrived in the city as it prepared for its Flower Festival, the celebration of the summer solstice. Great fields of sunflowers bloomed, their faces slowly tracking the sun as it moved across the sky. Flowers were being gathered to make into wreaths and crowns, murals of petals were pinned to doors. There was an air of permissiveness and celebration, everybody was good natured and hardly inclined to work. This made it hard for them to find coin, but they did find something else in the city, Alexander and his family. He came across them in a marketplace, the gigantic Brunhilde was obvious to spot amongst the lordlings and finely dressed merchants.

He insisted they stay with him, in a cramped home he had found in the city. It was a crooked thing built on the end of a row of houses, half the width of the others. Miray and Yusuf were there, with flowers they had gathered to weave into wreaths. They were overjoyed to see the two adventurers again. Miray stared at Brunhilde with adoring eyes as the barbarian regaled them with the tale of the bandit citadel and the city of undead they had been washed into afterwards. Yusuf interjected at points to show-off how he had been training with his sword, and how he could have helped them in every battle. After the tale-telling, Alexander bid them back to work, weaving the flowers into wreaths and necklaces for the festival.

“We’ll sell these and make enough to start trading in the docks, I think,” Alexander told them.

“We had a wagon of riches to give you, but a storm and a traitorous driver stole them from us,” Brunhilde said.

“Please, you owe me nothing. We were lucky you saved our lives.”

“I could have fought them off!” Yusuf protested.

“We’re not fighters,” Alexander said, he patted his son on the head.

“We can find work here as mercenaries.” Brunhilde took some flowers and tried to copy Miray as she wove. The stems broke as she forced them together. “I’m a weaver of wounds, not flowers.” She dropped the broken stems.

“They say the festival is filled with drinking, dancing and sleeping, not much fighting.” Alexander shook his head.

“I am not working as a common mercenary. I am a princess.” Hope twiddled a flower between her fingers.

“True, you don’t look like a warrior. One look at me, and the merchants will be climbing over themselves to hire me.” Brunhilde thumped her fist down on the table. Miray and Yusuf shrieked in shock as the pile of flowers cascaded down around them. Alexander fussed and gathered them up.

“Well, you just defeated a pile of flowers. Pity the sunflowers! I may not look as coarse and threatening as you, but I’m twice as dangerous.” Hope snapped the stem of the flower she held. “I should earn twice as much as you.”

“I’ll bet a wild boar from the market you can’t,” Brunhilde said.

“Fine. I’ll find a placement and you’ll be watching me cook and eat an entire boar, just to show how little you know!”

“There is no need, really.” Alexander dropped down onto a stool next to his children.

“We need coin anyways. I want to take a ship out into the Inner Sea. Dive for treasure perhaps.” Brunhilde shifted on her stool. It was uncomfortable in this cramped space. A fight with ruffians in the docks could do her some good. And if she were paid for it, all the better.

“Let me recommend you to some of the traders here. Elova is very suspicious of outsiders, only other foreigners working here are likely to employ you.” Alexander said.

“Who would turn down my obvious strength?” Brunhilde ran her fingers over the scars on her arms, proof of her resilience in battle.

“Do you know the colours of the Barotzi and the Morosini, or their charges?” Alexander said.

“The what?”

“The Barotzi’s colours are blue and gold, and their charge is the bull. Morosini are white and green, and the hare,” Miray said, not looking up from her work.

“They are two of the families overseeing trade. All of the ruling families have their own coat of arms,” Yusuf said.

“If it happens in Elova, the Families know of it. And if the Families don’t know of it, it didn’t happen.” Alexander waved his hand over the flowers they were weaving. “We can do something petty like this, but when we start trading properly, we will need the approval of one of the families. We have to court their younger cousins with coin and flattery, convince them that our endeavours will bring good fortune to their house.”

“I’m tired of politicking and schemes,” Hope said. She took a wreath from Yusuf and finished the weave, twisting two ends together in a quick motion that he puzzled over. “Let’s play at mercenaries here. Who would suspect a princess of great power to patrol the slums of a city?” She dropped the wreath over Yusuf’s head.

“And a boar to the most successful mercenary.” Brunhilde’s stomach rumbled at the thought of it.