A few more days by ship brought Sammy and Julie to the Kitoongu capital, M’kahté. They arrived at midday and then spent the afternoon wandering around.

Unlike Cecky, it was a more normal city. There was a middle-class and, in their exploring, they saw a district that looked well-to-do near the palace, on the far side to the river. However, there was certainly an aura of poverty, even the nicer buildings not as nice as those they’d seen around other cities.

“I believe there isn’t the same convention of townhouses for the nobility here,” Sammy said. “There is no parliament and social events are likely held at estates.”

Once evening approached, albeit with a sky still bright, they retired to an inn they’d found earlier. The food wasn’t so good, but it was meat and it was cheap. Knowing there would be less fresh meat further north, Sammy aimed to fill Julie up while she could, important to keep her wife well-fed. A bit of fat would be nice for a couple of weeks in an icy wasteland.

The next day, they took the horses to a farrier, fortunate that Sammy’s Formadgian went far. When it came to maps, that was more difficult and required a lengthy stay at the merchants’ guild. Eventually, some leftover Formadgian currency lighter, they had an annotated map and a place on a small vessel headed north the next morning.

Everything was coming together.

With the rest of the day, Sammy and Julie sorted through their luggage, discarding some unnecessary things—like the barracks-issued pyjamas Julie hadn’t worn in months—then went out to find something sweet. That was Sammy’s goal, Julie following with a small smile. What they found was pricey, but there was still plenty of money left, spread across a few currencies, and their journey had few expenses left.

So they snacked. First, they had some kind of fried bread, squashed balls that were sweet, flavoured with cinnamon, and they had it with a local tea, still made with tea leaves, but other things were added for a more herbal taste.

Next, they had small pancakes. From what Sammy gathered, talking to the stall owner’s daughter who spoke some Formadgian, they were made with rice flour and coconut milk, giving a different taste, but similar texture, nice and fluffy.

Finally, they had sugared seeds. In Alfen, they’d tried chocolate-covered nuts, these a similar idea. The rather large seeds were coated in sugar and dyed with berry juices to make them vibrantly coloured.

Julie wasn’t keen on so much sweetness, but there were some savoury snacks on offer too. Fried potato slices and grilled corn on the cob, both salted and spicily flavoured. The potato slices were a bit rich for Julie, but were balanced by the sweetness of the bag of sugared seeds Sammy had bought, while she struggled to cope with the spiciness of the corn, so arrogant moments prior since she’d grown to love horseradish and mustard in Dworfen.

Sammy laughed, bringing them back to the first dessert store for another tea.

Night fell and dawn rose.

After breakfast, they collected their horses and went to the port. It took asking a few people, but Sammy navigated them to the notably smaller ship, by the size of it barely large enough to carry cattle and the design more like a barge. The “captain” spotted them, walking down from the deck.

“Good travels,” he said, his Formadgian good if not for his overwhelming gruffness, which was in turn offset by his smile, beard and moustache neatly kept.

“Good travels,” Sammy said back, assuming it a local greeting.

They went back and forth for a while, then Sammy handed over some coins. With that, he called over some of the sailors, bringing the horses aboard. Sammy and Julie followed after at the captain’s word.

While it did have a cramped below-deck, the horses were kept on the deck. Rather than lifted up, they were just strapped in place, some thick metal rods holding up a canopy with places for the harnesses to attach to.

“These parts, the river’s calm. No worries,” the captain said, Sammy dutifully translating for Julie.

Despite the size, there was also a cabin. The captain said it served as his bedroom, unwilling to stray from the ship when it was loaded with goods, a few locked boxes where he kept his things. He invited them to stay there while the ship was moving.

Six sailors under the captain, they soon set off, punting along the serene river.

Although the travelling was comfortable, the reality of going via small river villages quickly caught up to them. Much like their travels in southern Sonlettier, they relied on hospitality and often the captain had to help arrange matters, Formadgian not so widely spoken away from the trade route.

If it was just that, Sammy would have even enjoyed meeting new people and learning more of the foreign culture. But it wasn’t that simple.

In the middle of the night, Sammy often awoke to Julie’s silent cries, shoulders shaking, eyes wet. And when they were alone, there was a desperation to Julie’s affection.

Of course, Sammy knew why, and that was why she knew there was nothing she could do. It had been four months since they left the Royal Palace. Four months wasn’t enough time for a lifetime of love, never mind that it hadn’t been a month since they truly became wife and wife.

Even if they had been lovers for decades, it wouldn’t have been long enough.

There was a small consolation, though, her estimate for this trip by ship very optimistic, so they had a few more days together than she’d thought. A few more days to hold each other, hearing the other’s heart beat in time with their own.

Each day bringing them farther north as well as closer to the summer solstice, night shrank ever more, soon at the point where the sun lingered when they went to sleep and when they woke. It would have been easy to believe it never set if not for their irregular sleeping.

Then finally, the ship went no further.

“Y’see the map? Keep to the river, no worries,” the captain said, his last act of hospitality before sending them on their way.

After so long by ship, Sammy and Julie found it strange to ride their horses. But Hope and even Faith made their pleasure clear, a rebelliousness to them, urging on quicker.

Without the captain, finding accommodation was more difficult. Sammy relied on offering coins and miming the actions. It was also just less populated, colder despite the oppressive sunshine, an ever-present wind coming from the north. One of the three nights, they made do camping, thankfully laden up with salted meats and other foodstuffs from M’kahté, as well as clean water and a small cask of small beer.

On the fourth day, they reached the outpost.

It was larger than most villages they’d passed through since leaving the Kitoongu capital. Like those villages, it was surrounded by a wall, this one made of stone instead of wood. Guards were posted at the entrance and some more were patrolling the top of the wall, as well as even more looking out from watch towers at the corners.

But it was clear who—or rather, what—they were guarding from by how happily the guards at the gate greeted them. Just that, not speaking the language, it landed flat.

One by one—“Schtish?”—Sammy listed off the languages she knew, only for the guards to shake their heads. Eventually, one went off to find someone and soon returned with the priest for the settlement’s church.

He was middle-aged and looked older. “Does ye speak Schtish?” he asked, eyes squinting behind his thick glasses. A raspy voice, thinning hair, bundled up in unflattering robes, it all made Sammy think of a fat rat for whatever reason.

“Yes, I speak Schtish,” Sammy said. She didn’t agree that he did, so spoke clearly and, once the conversation proper began, settled into a biblical manner of speaking to match his.

Fortunately, the warm welcome was still offered. Once they were recorded as guests—in case an attendance needed to be called after an attack—they were let in, the priest even showing them to the stables and inn.

There was something unsettling about seeing people so covered up in the middle of intense sunshine. It also looked like guards not on duty still walked around with their weapons, sheathed at their waists; Sammy wasn’t sure if they were instead part of a militia. The buildings were all made of stone and brick, most roofs thatched, any holes plugged up with mismatched mortar and whatever sized stones fit best. Few small buildings were detached, usually bunched up around a courtyard, breaking the wind and giving a space to dry clothes and for children to play. Even at this midday hour, smoke from cooking fires trailed up, blown south, the tough meats and unappetising vegetables being stewed for dinner.

The priest left Sammy and Julie at the inn and they stayed downstairs for now. While the innkeeper—an older woman, but not yet old—only spoke the local language of Horioka, she understood money and Sammy mimed chewing. At least, Sammy thought so, the two soon brought a mild ale. Another few coins exchanged, the innkeeper poured them some stew and broke off some bread.

Not much had been said between wife and wife the last few weeks. At least, not with words. After a few mouthfuls, Sammy broke the silence that had lingered since arriving at the inn.

“I think we should stay here a week. Our monthlies should be arriving shortly and the cold would hardly help matters,” she said.

Julie wasn’t that affected by Sammy bringing up the matter by now, even if she still had some embarrassment around it. However, she instinctively went to deny her thought, only to realise she had said “our”. It wasn’t exactly something she had kept track of, but, thinking of the last time, their periods had nearly overlapped.

Shaking off her distracted thoughts, she said, “Okay.” It wouldn’t do to be out in the cold when Sammy’s came.

A few more mouthfuls later, Sammy said, “Shall we rest up for today, then?”

Julie nodded.

Although they agreed on that ahead of time, Julie felt her mood plummet soon after the meal, her whole body feeling uncomfortable. Sammy’s suggestion certainly had been timely. Not even up for reading, Julie just curled up in Sammy’s arms, comfortable and warm. That Sammy could turn a pot of water with the lid on into a heater also helped.

In the evening, Sammy brought up porridge for them both, as well as an extra blanket. It wasn’t that tasty, but Sammy mixed in some cinnamon from M’kahté, which helped, and they could keep it warm with the “heater”, letting Julie eat slowly.

Come morning, Julie had cramps and even less of an appetite. Sammy helped by massaging, her hands nice and warm, then was struck with inspiration.

“Can you wait here for a while? It may take some time, what with the language barrier,” Sammy softly said, stroking Julie’s head.

“Mm, I’m fine,” Julie mumbled—sounding anything but fine.

To make sure, Sammy helped Julie change first, then set out. Being a place with weather that went from “sunny and cold” to “dark and freezing”, as well as somewhere with many guards on patrol, she thought hip flasks would definitely be sold here.

She was right and wrong.

Instead of the kind she was thinking of, they were made of leather, some even wooden. Having taken so long to find this out, she dejectedly walked back towards the inn and almost made it there.

Eyes widening, Sammy stopped in front of a person and asked, “Excuse me, are you a doctor?”

The person was a bit short for a man, face soft and lips plump, dressed in trousers and a fancy (for these parts) dinner jacket on top, buttoned up, which sat a little loose, hiding their figure. In a voice which was a bit high-pitched for a man, measured and calm, the person said, “Ah, no Schtish? Sonlettian?”

Smiling, Sammy switched over and said, “Yes, I speak Sonlettian.”

The person smiled back. “Please, what did you ask before?”

“Are you a doctor?” Sammy asked.

“I am—is there an emergency?” the person asked, some concern colouring their voice and expression.

Sammy shook her head. “My wife has some discomfort with her, as it is, little complaint. Have you any medicine spare?”

A woman talking of her wife, and a woman mentioning menstruation (albeit a euphemism): of the two, the person was more shocked by the latter, not something ever brought up in Sonlettier. The person had only ever handled such a matter once before when a girl had heavily bled, her mother convinced she would die; the situation resolved itself after a few days and a change of diet was recommended to lighten future periods.

Once the person overcame that shock, there was the other shock. If it was another doctor, they may have ignored it, but this person didn’t and so it took a while for a reply to come.

“Unless she is unable to eat or drink, I wouldn’t intervene. However, you could feed her brown sugar mixed in warm water—patohka. It is soothing and easy to drink and not as sweet, so I find it helpful.”

For a long moment, the doctor didn’t understand Sammy’s knowing smile, then Sammy spoke. “Thank you. Also, if I may, there is a chance we will need medical attention in two to three weeks. Will you still be here? We would be more comfortable with la medosun.”

It was the subtle difference of le and la and it sent a shiver down the person’s spine. Her heart pounded, throat tight. “Le medosun,” she said quietly.

But that the doctor even noticed confirmed it for Sammy—not that she had doubted her intuition. She held a finger to her lips, smile turned secretive, then asked again, “Will you be here?”

“Yes.”

“I am Sammy and my wife is Julie,” she said, offering a hand.

“Doctor Monnay,” she said, shaking the hand.

Their handshake lingered a moment, then Sammy leaned in, Dr Monnay’s heart pounding as the beautiful woman with a wife closed in on her, only for Sammy’s mouth to seek out her ear.

“Truth be told, I am the hero. When the time comes, please don’t lose yourself in celebrations and keep an eye out for our return,” Sammy said, nothing about her voice threatening, yet Dr Monnay felt the crushing weight of an unspoken threat.

“Understood,” Dr Monnay said.

Sammy’s smile softened as she pulled back. “One last thing, are you busy? We do not speak the language and it is proving difficult.”

“I could, uh, help,” Dr Monnay said.

“Wonderful. I can’t bear to leave my wife alone any longer today, but would you find us tomorrow? I’m sure the innkeeper can point you to our room if we aren’t down,” Sammy said.

Dr Monnay quickly nodded. “Of course,” she said.

It was only after Sammy left that Dr Monnay wondered if her urge to help was more out of fear or attraction, only to realise what it meant for a person to have a wife and so she decided that it was out of respect for the hero. Not for a moment did she doubt that Sammy was the hero.

Back in their room, Sammy comforted Julie until she fell asleep. Once Sammy was sure her wife wouldn’t wake, she moved to the little table in the room and, using the back of the map, sketched out her idea. It was simple: a metal bottle covered in leather. Since it wouldn’t be used for drinking, the exact metal didn’t matter, her plan to see what would be cheapest.

Once that was done, she went down and asked the innkeeper for patohka. Dr Monnay’s help helpful, the innkeeper brought back a cup of boiled water tinged brown, a slight sweetness to its smell. Upstairs, she covered the top to keep it warm. Once Julie stirred, Sammy fed her the drink, repeating what Dr Monnay had told her. Whether it was the drink or explanation, Sammy didn’t know, but Julie soon felt better, the two cuddling while Sammy read aloud a book.

Lunch and dinner passed slowly, Sammy patiently feeding her precious patient. In the evening, she again comforted her wife into gentle dreams, only then retiring herself.

The next day, Dr Monnay visited and, with a translator, Sammy quickly organised as much as she could. That wasn’t entirely selfless, cognisant of what the tenderness of her breasts and smaller appetite meant.

First, she brought her plans and commissioned four metal bottles, as well as leather bags to fit them in.

Next, she went to the stables and exercised both Hope and Faith in turn. Afterwards, she remembered as much she could of what she’d seen Julie do before, grooming the horses. With Dr Monnay to translate, she then spoke to the owner of the stables.

“We are looking to settle down, so we would like to sell these horses,” Sammy said, then waited for Dr Monnay.

The owner was a young man, which still meant he was a few years older than Sammy and a few more younger than Dr Monnay. Once Dr Monnay finished speaking, he turned to the horses, a sparkle in his eye.

“He says they’re good horses, but he’s not sure he can give you a better price than the butcher,” Dr Monnay said.

Sammy’s smile didn’t so much as flicker, even though her heart ached just hearing that. It wasn’t that she felt a special bond to the horses, but she held a deep appreciation and, something like an instinct, she felt uncomfortable with the mention of turning horses to meat. It hadn’t come up much, but she had always avoided horse meat in the past.

“What can he offer?” Sammy calmly asked.

After the back and forth, Dr Monnay gave his answer and added, “I do not deal with horses, but I think it is a reasonable offer.”

Sammy didn’t agree, knowing the true cost of them was at least ten times that, his offer half as much as she could probably get back by the river. But this was a remote place with little need for riding horses and it was a sincere offer.

“Very well,” Sammy said.

It took him some time to gather the money, needing to borrow from his parents, but he soon returned, counting out the pile of coins in front of Sammy while she relied on Dr Monnay to confirm it. Even then, she only loosely guessed the exchange rate by the costs for her commissions.

Once it was counted, her pushed the pile over to her side of the counter—only for her to push it back to him. While he looked confused, she softly smiled. “These horses are precious to me. Please, use this money to care for them and, if possible, sell them to someone heading for Schtat.”

Of course, his expression didn’t change until Dr Monnay translated for him. Still, he tried to give the money back anyway, only to be broken by Sammy’s intense stare.

To settle the matter, Dr Monnay said to him, “I don’t think she’ll stay long. When she comes back, she can pay for the boarding cost.”

Sure enough, he looked happier with that. “Sure.”

Sammy understood something was afoot, but, knowing Dr Monnay, she felt it was nothing that needed worrying about.

With her two main tasks addressed, the third was simply gathering what knowledge she could of the Corrupted Lands. While the name itself made it sound like a despicable place, it was more accurately called the Corrupted’s Lands, simply the place where Lilith “lived”.

What Sammy already knew was that, even before Lilith, this land to the north was a place of eternal winter. Just that, with careful reading, the ice had encroached farther south, disrupting the old prevailing winds and upsetting the oceans’ currents.

The landscape itself was foreign to her. As far south as Schtat was, she hadn’t even seen snow settle, had only read of how slippy ice was.

So she learned.

She bought shoes with studs, special snowglasses—carved wood with narrow slits, reducing the damaging glare from the snow—and thick cloaks that covered the skin, kept away the cold wind, and were easy to move in. Fur clothes to stay warm, a sled for carrying.

Following her and Julie’s own knowledge, she put in orders for dried meats and small beer. The less they had to carry, the better, even when it came to food. From what she knew of scurvy, she included potatoes too. She was told the snow and ice could be boiled for fresh water, and she had to believe that, impossible to carry two weeks of water with them.

These matters filled her day, only taking a break to have lunch with Julie; she introduced Julie to Dr Monnay at that time. With the doctor being the person Sammy trusted most, the working lunch involved having Dr Monnay agree to hold onto their extraneous items.

By evening, Sammy thankfully had everything done for the time being. Although mentally exhausted, she had a cuddly wife to snuggle with, the perfect way to recover.

As for the next day, her period hadn’t started yet while Julie felt well enough to come out, so Sammy talked her through some of the commissions and they went to visit the horses.

After lunch, Dr Monnay joined them. Sammy, beginning to feel listless, asked Julie, “May I tell her about our journey?”

“Sure? We’ve been to a lot of places,” Julie said—missing the point entirely.

With a definitely-not-patronising smile, Sammy said again, “Our personal journey.”

Julie bowed her head, hands fidgeting. But Sammy didn’t push her, waited, waiting for an answer. “All of it?” Julie quietly asked.

“Yes. If we do not return, I want the world to know of my love for you. A love hoped for, a love found, a love I believed in so much that I was and am willing to confront Lilith for it. I want our love to resonate as beautifully as any other in the annals of history.”

Another long moment later, Julie quietly said, “Okay.”

Unable to help herself, Sammy leaned in and kissed the corner of Julie’s mouth—the best she could do with Julie still looking down. “Thank you, my precious jewel.”

With the permission granted, Sammy took her request to Dr Mannay. “You can write fast, yes?” she asked first.

“Well, reasonably. I usually record diagnoses and treatment plans. Why do you ask?” Dr Monnay said.

Sammy’s smile revealed both humour and sincerity. “Would you record our story?” she asked.

There was no need to say why.

Dr Monnay didn’t trust her throat, simply nodded.

“It shall be rather long and boring, I’m afraid, but once the seeds have grown, so the flowers shall bloom. We have about four days before we will leave; that should be plenty. Of course, if you have appointments, don’t let us keep you. Oh, a name. Every good story should have a name. Something concise, yet captures the essence of what it tells….”

Sammy trailed off there, her voice racing ever faster, only her thoughts now able to keep up with her manic episode.

After half a minute, she snapped her attention back to Dr Monnay. “Vanquishing Evil For Love—that will do nicely.”