It had taken Vash a week to walk all the way to Sothsford from Durron’s Ford, and it had rained every godsdamned day. He had given up trying to find a way to dry out his clothes at night and had just kept walking until his strength gave out or the pain in his feet became too much for him to bear. Then he would try and find some out of the way place to curl up and try not to die for another night.

After it had all gone wrong-- after Nyx had killed a man, after Corwin and Kat had run-- Vash and a few others had received the brunt of the constables’ anger. Nyx had said that the man was just a tax collector, no one would care if they roughed him up a bit. He had neglected to mention that the tax collector had been the brother of the Lord Constable for the Barony. The others, Badger and Fat Tom, they had been beaten badly, more than they deserved. But what they had gotten was nothing compared to what Vash had had to take. The constables felt they could really let loose on the “half-blood”. They had beaten him until he was spitting up blood and his eye was swollen shut. One of them had even broken out the whip that was meant for public floggings, luckily none of them had known how to use it properly.

Vash remembered that it had only stopped when Sam had stepped in. Old Sam, the butcher, had been looking after him since his mother died. Vash felt a pang of guilt at that, at the hurt in Sam’s eyes, even as he begged the constables for mercy. They hadn’t wanted to, apparently Corwin had worked out some sort of leniency. For the rest the Lord Constable had wanted them sent to Kas Molag at the least. Sam made a deal, one that he should not have had to make, not for an elf-blood bastard like him, and Vash had gotten exile.

They had taken his shoes then chased him out of town. Once they reached the fording of the Obrun river the constables had given him one last beating and then let him try and cross. The river had been freezing with the spring runoff and the water had been running high and fast. Vash had lost his footing several times but managed not to get swept away. Shivering and in pain, he had turned back for one last look. The constables had left, and the lights from the town had faded after the excitement from earlier.

It was like it had never happened. It was like he had never happened.

Vash had turned his back on Durron’s Ford and begun the long and painful journey south. He had survived, and he was going to prove that he was worth remembering, no matter what it took.

“Headed to Sothsford?” A voice inquired.

Vash had been lost in his own thoughts and had not even noticed the cart that came up beside him. He looked up at the drover and was surprised to see a young man with a scruffy beard and pointed ears that stuck out from his curly dark hair. The shock almost knocked him off his feet. “You…you’re…you’re a…”

“Drover? Cart driver? Guy that’s offering you a ride for the last few miles to the city?” The drover asked, then pulled on an ear. “Or do you mean these?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Vash said. “I’ve never met anyone…like me.”

“I’m a quarter blood, on my mom’s side.” The driver said. “Name’s Ruel. Want a ride…?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble.” Vash said, quickly. “I’m Vash.”

Ruel reined in the horses to give Vash a chance to climb up onto the buckboard next to him. “Vash? Really?”

“It’s my name, what’s wrong with that?” Vash asked, clambering up into the wagon.

“Nothing, well…you don’t speak Vanan, do you?” Ruel asked, not unkindly.

“No.” Vash said, defensive. “Why?”

“Well, in Vanan, Vash means ‘Son’.” Ruel said, clucking at the horses to get the cart moving again. “It’s like naming your dog ‘Dog’ or something.”

“Well, my dad was a dick who ran out on my mom after one night, so I’m not surprised he gave me a joke name.” Vash growled.

“Sorry,” Ruel said. “I didn’t mean to dredge anything up. Trust me, there’s a lot of us with similar stories in The Wood.”

Vash gave him a blank look. “The what?”

“The elvish district.” Ruel explained. “Well, part-elvish district. Full bloods never come near the place. I figured that’s what you were headed to Sothsford. Anywhere you find a village that touches the Wayward Forest you have Vanan rangers who can’t keep their dick in their pants. South of the King’s Road most of the fruits of those unions end up in Sothsford.”

“I didn’t know that.” Vash said, wondering if other people had known that there were other half-elves, that there was a whole damned community living a week’s walk from the town he grew up in. Had Sam known? The whole time he had been telling him to just take the taunting of the other boys, the fights, the cruel jokes. That whole time he could have taken a quick trip south and just been himself?

“It’s not like we advertise it. Baron Sothran tolerates the enclave so long as we don’t make a nuisance. So long as we keep quiet and don’t grow too much then everybody is happy.” Ruel shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the treatment we’d get from any of the full-blood elves.”

“Oh?”

Ruel gave Vash a rueful grin. “Yeah, word of advice, keep away from real elves. It’s just not a good idea to go looking on that side of the family tree. Trust me on that.”

Vash nodded and they plodded on in silence for a few minutes. He could not believe how good it felt to get off his feet. The bloody, filthy rags that he had wrapped around his feet were not going to hold together much longer. Gingerly he reached down to adjust the wrappings. Ruel watched him out of the corner of his eyes. “Lost or stolen?”

“Taken.” Vash grimaced.

“I see.” Ruel said, voice careful and neutral. “Bandits?”

“No.”

Ruel nodded. “They got you pretty bad. I’ll bet whatever they did to your wrist is pretty awful since you wrapped it up like that.”

“If you don’t want to take me any further—” Vash began.

“Didn’t say that.” Ruel said, cautiously. “Just feeling out the situation. You got any people in Sothsford? Place to stay?”

“No.”

“I see.” Ruel sighed. He thought for a moment, then spoke carefully like he was calming a skittish horse. “I know a fellow in the Wood. Takes in strays like yourself. Ones that get nasty burns on their wrists before they come to town.” He did not look at Vash, kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. “It’s a kind of temple that he runs, I think. Most of us don’t ask too many questions. I know he’s helped some folks though. I could introduce you, if you’d like.”

“Temple? Like elvish gods?” Vash asked.

“They’re pretty quiet about it.” Ruel said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t know the particulars. My family and me go to the Temple of Taella.”

“I don’t know.” Vash said, looking out over the fields. “It’s hard to know who to trust.”

“I can understand that.” Ruel nodded. “But it’s just for the night. Place to sleep, get some food, maybe some shoes. Don’t like it? Head out in the morning, no worse for wear.”

Vash thought for a while. What other choice did he have? No money, no one he knew, he should have thought about the brand earlier. What were the chances that the city guard would let him through the gates with those marks and his ears? “I’ll meet your friend. But no promises.”

“Oh, he’s not my friend.” Ruel said, and there was a bit of an edge to his voice. “Just a fellow I know.”

They crested a hill, Vash wanted to ask what Ruel had meant but the sight on the other side caught his attention. “Gods, is that it?”

“Indeed!” Ruel said with a smile. “That’s home, Sothsford. First city, Vash?”

Vash nodded, staring at what lay before them. Small farming communities dotted the landscape leading up to massive twenty-foot walls of reddish-brown stone. The city sprawled behind those walls, straddling the Obrun River and hugging the shore of Lake Estria. Vash could see tall buildings peeking above the battlements, towers and other edifices in the same sort of red-brown stone as the walls themselves. For the first time he noticed other people as well. Close to the river was a wide thoroughfare leading to one of the great gates in the walls. The road was absolutely choked with wagons and people making their way to the city. Vash looked around at the relatively few people on their road leading to a smaller gate on the northwestern side of the city.

“Why are so many people going in over there?” Vash asked, pointing.

Ruel glanced up. “That’s the King’s Road. That road goes to important places. This road has about three-dozen names: The Silver Road, the Moon Road, the Wayfarer Road and so on. This road goes nowhere important. But, on the bright side, it does mean a shorter line to get passed through the gates.”

It took the better part of an hour for Ruel’s cart to reach the northwestern gate, which he had told Vash was called the Wanderer’s Gate, in contrast to the huge and impressive King’s Gate close to the river. Ruel had said that the road went nowhere important, but it started to gather a crowd as they approached the walls. Small carts and wagons filled the road and Vash started to see a greater variety of people. Not just different kinds of humans, but a few part-elves like himself, not to mention groups of other heritages. Vash saw bands of halflings crammed onto wagons that seemed full to bursting, all were laughing and calling to the other halfling carts in a clipped and lilting speech. Heavy-featured dwarves lead massive rams laden with wares, they clustered together in groups of threes and fives, when they spoke, they leaned towards one another and kept their voices low, rumbling into their beards with suspicious looks. Here and there Vash even saw the imposing bulk and jutting jaw of an orc. He had heard that there were some orcs that lived outside the Clans, settling among humans. The orcs avoided eye contact, trudging towards the gates with heads bowed.

People flowed through the gates with cursory inspections by the guards in green and white tabards who manned the gates. Wagons received much more thorough looks. Bags were opened, bales were stuck with the long knives that the guards carried, Vash could not figure out what exactly they were looking for, but they seemed serious about their business. Ruel’s wagon finally trundled up to the gate. Three guardsmen approached the wagon, two walked the length of it, spears on their shoulders as they looked it over.

The third came up to the buckboard on Vash’s side. He was a graying man of middle years, up close his tabard was faded and patched, the white side more gray than white at this point. Under his tabard he wore a thick leather jerkin. A long dirk and a short club hung from his belt. The guardsman spat in the dirt. “Afternoon, Ruel, good trip?”

“Fair.” Ruel replied with a grin that did not reach his eyes. “The groves in the area are getting played out, had to go further north. That costs me time and money.”

“Ayuh.” The guardsman nodded, glancing past Vash and into the cart bed which held several bundles wrapped in oilcloth. “Don’t see the point, though, wood’s wood, ain’t it?”

“You tell the nobs in Temple Square that.” Ruel snorted. “They pay good coin for what they see as quality.”

The guardsman smirked, his eyes flicking to Vash. “I suppose so. And who is this?”

“New fellow, met him on the road.” Ruel said, quickly.

“That so?” The guardsman asked. “New fellow got a name?”

Ruel nodded at Vash. He looked over at the guardsman, most of the constables in Durron’s Ford had been very like this man. Vash stuffed down the fear and anger that welled up inside. “V-Vash McMartin.”

“Ha!” The guard cackled. “Another part-blood? You lot keep bringing in strays and the Vanan nobs are going to have words with the Baron.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to get registered right away. I’m taking him straight to Byar. You’ll never even know he’s here.” Ruel said, emphasizing the unfamiliar name.

The guardsman stopped grinning, a stony expression crossing his face. He looked back at the guardsmen who were starting to poke their spears at the bundles in the back of Ruel’s cart. “Oy! You lot give those dwarves a once-over and make sure they pay their toll.” The other guards looked startled but shrugged and turned to the next group in line. The guardsman leaned in close to avoid being overheard. “I don’t appreciate you lot using my gate like your godsdamned front door! I’m doing my bit, but you need to tell Byar that I can only cover so much.”

“Tell him yourself.” Ruel sighed. “I’m sure he’ll be ever so understanding about your troubles.”

“Pay your toll and get out of here.” The guardsman growled.

Ruel handed over a small pouch and flicked the reins. “Always a pleasure.”

The guardsman spat and waved them through. Ruel laughed bitterly as they rode past and into the city proper. Vash wanted to ask what that had all been about, but thought better of it, whoever Byar was he had the power to cow a city guardsman. That wasn’t something to take lightly. It was also likely trouble that he did not need.

Vash let himself be distracted by the sight of his first real city. Sam had said that Sothsford was an important trading hub for the southern reaches of the kingdom. River traffic flowed down the Obrun from the capital, Kas Solas, heading across Lake Estria bound for the southern kingdoms. It was also situated at the northern edge of Vanan Esain, the elven kingdom, where the forests of the Vanan faded into the more haunted and wild Wayward Forest. Trade with elves was rare, but highly lucrative. Sam had told him stories that he had heard of the elves now and again when some boy had called him a tree-fucker or held him down and slapped his ears until they were red and raw.

“They’re not the easiest folk to get along with.” Sam had said, trying to console Vash. “But their work is beyond compare. Every elf has got a bit of magic in them, that’s what makes the stuff they make so special. I bet you got it in you too, maybe you’ll make my plain sausages into some sort of artisanal whatnots.”

Vash remembered smiling to try and make the old man feel like he was helping. But the idea of elves being something special, something he had been denied, that just made things worse. Vash resolved to let it go, just make it through meeting with this Byar and see what happened next. He had been so distracted he had not even noticed that Ruel had been chattering away about the city.

“—And you’ll want to keep away from the gates for a bit. The guard is kind of touchy about how many part-bloods are in the city. The full bloods don’t like seeing us, reminds them they’re not perfect or something. Anyways, you shouldn’t have to worry too much about it. This part of town is called Traveler’s Row, most of your low-cost inns and taverns clustered around the Wayfarer Gate. You get a lot of Guild folk here. Sothsford’s the southern terminus of a lot of their routes. I’d keep clear of here if I were you, adventurers are not the best folk to get mixed up with.” Ruel said gesturing to the row of shingles that lined the street. There did seem to be a high number of people in armor carrying a wide variety of weapons. Most were having fun, laughing and carousing, but more than a few just sat at their tables with hollow stares.

“Once we get past here, we’ll cut across Temple Square and take Riverside up to the Wood.” Ruel said casually, looking over at Vash. “It’s not much of a tour of the city, but I can’t show you everything. I’ve got my own life to get back to.”

Vash nodded. “I appreciate it. I haven’t had too many friends lately.”

Ruel gave him a casual grin and nodded as they turned down a broad thoroughfare. A huge square opened before them; massive buildings surrounded the square. On one side Vash recognized statues of various gods: Athair All-Father, Taella of the Hearth, Ramah the Warrior, and others that that formed the backbone of all Solarian Temples.

“The Temple of Sothsford is a bit…well, the priests like to show off.” Ruel said, seeing Vash’s gaze. “But then so does everyone who owns a building on this square. Lords, priests, merchant princes, they all like to congregate in the shadow of the gods. Though they aren’t quite to godly themselves.”

Vash nodded, still gawking at the impressive statues. Athair and Taella flanked the main door to the Temple, hands raised in blessing. The sight was familiar, though in miniature, small carved figures flanked the door to Durron’s Ford’s Temple. Everything just seemed bigger in the city, or was it just that home seemed that much smaller?

The cart rumbled across several other streets, following a long stretch by the river. Barges and other shallow-draft boats moved slowly in the direction of the lake. Sam had always said that Lake Estria was more like a small sea than a real lake. Small boats rowed out to the bigger ones, selling items or transferring small cargo. Watching the boats on the water was pleasant to Vash, oddly calming. Maybe he could sign on to work on a boat? See some of the world.

Pleasant thoughts of a life on a river barge faded as Ruel turned them over a rickety wood and stone bridge. The bridge swayed and shuddered alarmingly with the weight of people, animals, and wagons going back and forth. Ruel did not seem to notice as the planks groaned under the wagon’s weight. “Is this, safe?”

Ruel seemed surprised by the question. “What? The bridge? Oh yes, she complains but she’s yet to take a tumble. Helps that only us part-bloods ever use it.”

Vash blinked at that and looked at the others on the bridge. He gaped, noticing that every man, woman, and child had pointed ears like him. Some longer like full blooded elves, others barely noticeable. Vash had heard that that happened the less elvish blood you had. Several gave Ruel friendly waves that he returned.

“The Wood” it turned out was a small district nestled in the northeast corner of the city. The bridges only lead to either the Riverside district, which was all sailors and dockworkers, or to the Drovers, which was full of warehouses. Within the part-elves had made an enclave for themselves. It certainly felt different from the rest of the city, Vash thought as he and Ruel rolled off the bridge and into the district. Small buildings lined the main street into the district, they had none of the impressive grandeur of Temple Square, but they were well-maintained, and each had an intricately carved design above the door.

Voices called out to one another in a lilting, airy language. Vash looked around, concerned. “Does everyone speak Vanan here?”

Ruel nodded with a slight grin. “Most do it just to piss off Elan sodla. Outsiders, specifically ‘blood of Elan’, humans. You’ll pick it up in no time, I’m sure.”

“If I stay.” Vash said cautiously.

“Of course, if you stay.” Ruel replied, turning down one of the side streets. “Now, we’re almost there. Just to give you fair warning. Byar and his people are a bit…eccentric.”

“How?” Vash asked.

“It’s hard to explain. Byar and his people are very dedicated to the temple and it’s cause, they can be very intense.” Ruel said with a slight grimace.

The cart rumbled down a street that was largely deserted. It seemed more like an alleyway between buildings than a real street. At the far end stood a small building. The bottom floor was crudely carved stone blocks that had been mortared together in an approximation of a cave mouth. The next story was a haphazard wooden structure accentuated by large unshaped limbs jutting out at odd angles, still sprouting leaves. It was one of the few buildings that Vash had seen in the city that sported a thatched roof. Flowers and moss grew out of the moldering thatch, giving it a strange look in such an urban setting. Hung over the door was a deer skull, which sported the most impressive set of antlers that Vash had ever seen. Jack Walker, Corwin’s brother, had once brought in a ten-point buck for Sam to butcher and Vash had thought that was impressive, but this thing had to have over a dozen points in a huge crown of bone.

A woman in a gray robe sat next to the doorway, she was part-elf like he was. She had inherited more of the severe, angular features of her elvish parent, her ears were mostly hidden by her long dark hair, but the points still managed to find their way out of her curls. She was doing something with small saplings in pots, dirt smudged her arms all the way to the elbows.

“Can’t they keep you out of the dirt, Ionae?” Ruel called as he brought the cart to a halt.

The young woman looked up and gave Ruel a crooked grin. “They try, tell me to give it up, but I tell you, one day we’re going to have a Moonwood tree in the heart of the Wood, and then who’ll be laughing?”

“How long before some vash su’sodla has the guard come in here and smash your saplings?” Ruel said with a teasing air.

“You going to tell them, Ruel?” Ionae countered. “Still don’t know who tipped them off last time, and you are one shady character.” She said it with a grin, her eyes flicking to Vash. “Speaking of shady characters, what have you brought us?”

“A little brother lost on the road.” Ruel said. “Thought Byar might help him get on his feet.”

“Did you?” Ionae asked with a quirked eyebrow. “Why might we do that?”

“Ae sodla eyat su’nothlin.” Ruel said, earning a frown from Ionae.

“I suppose it does.” She said then turned to Vash. “So, what’s your name, little brother?”

“Vash McMartin.” Vash said.

Ionae blinked. “Does he know--?”

“He doesn’t speak Vanan.” Ruel explained.

“I see.” Ionae said slowly. “Is Vash your full name?”

Vash colored. “No.”

“Thought as much. So, what is your full name, little brother?” Ionae asked.

“My mother told me she named me after the only elvish she ever heard my father say.” Vash explained. “It was only one night, so it wasn’t much.”

“And that was?” Ionae asked, leaning forward.

“Liellovash.” Vash sighed, he just knew it was something odd and flowery.

Ionae’s eyes widened and Ruel heaved a huge sigh. Ionae’s dark eyes flicked to Ruel. “Are you going to tell him? Or should I?”

“Full bloods can be such dicks.” Ruel grumbled.

“Just tell me.” Vash said. “I should at least know what my name means.”

“It’s not really a name, more of an epithet.” Ruel said, wincing.

“Your mother named you ‘Son of a Bitch’.” Ionae said with a smirk.