“Okay, here it is!” Rose announced as she led Nashorn and his party to a large gray structure. They walked together as one mob; with no sort of marching order or formation. To the casual observer, they appeared to be nothing more than a group of friends walking down the road. The largest member of the group, Niedźwiedź, pulled an empty hand-cart behind him with one of his hands gently gripping one of its two handles.

The structure before them was the ruins of what was once a rectangular building. Though much of the building, including the roof and much of the walls, was gone, it was apparent that the building was big enough to house around five hundred people standing shoulder to shoulder.

“I can’t believe it; a real Reman ruin, all this way from Reme!” Sova exclaimed. His eyes were open wide as he stared at the structure. He walked up to what remained of the building, a series of gray arches made of some sort of strange stone-like material, and reached out to touch it with his bare hand. On the top of one of the arches the words ‘FLAVIUS JULIUS AURELIAN’ were chiseled into the building material and still very much readable.

“It’s amazing. Judging from the design, I’d say that it was from the late imperial era, probably after the reforms of…” Sova thought aloud only to be cut off by Hienă.

“Who gives a shit? It’s just some old building!” She complained.

“That’s the point!” Sova responded as he glared at his companion, “It was built centuries, maybe even a millennia ago and yet it’s still here! That alone is amazing!”

Hienă simply rolled her eyes.

“What is this place made out of, anyways? I’ve never seen building material like this before,” Nashorn asked.

“It’s something called ‘concrete’. The Remans used it for all sorts of buildings. From what I understand, it’s supposed to be some sort of aggregate of multiple building materials all mixed together, though nobody has been able to produce it for centuries,” Sova explained.

“I see…” Nashorn responded.

“It’s a truly remarkable substance and also one of the few Reman innovations that was entirely Reman,” Rose remarked.

“What do you mean by that?” Nashorn asked.

“Well, from what my grandfather said, the Remans weren’t really great at creating new things on their own. Most of their success was due to their ability to co-opt and improve upon the stuff that other people made,” Rose elaborated. Thankfully, she was able to stop herself from repeating her grandfather’s exact words, which were: ‘Lemme tell you this: our ancestors, the Remans, were great at taking things from other people (mostly the Hellastanis) and improving them. We took phalanxes and made them into legions by making them more flexible, we took columns and made them into arches by putting two of them together, and we took orgies and made them better by letting women participate.’

“Well, I don’t care whether or not it was entirely their work. It’s still here and that’s something I respect,” Sova said.

“I don’t think that you’re entirely wrong. I do agree that the fact that the ruins lasted this long is impressive, but I think that what is more important is their beauty. If they weren’t beautiful, then they wouldn’t provide any benefit to anyone. They would just be an eyesore,” Rose responded. Sova shook his head.

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a very pessimistic person, but I think that we live in a world where people quickly die and are quickly forgotten. I don’t want to end up like that and I have respect for anyone who refuses to be forgotten,” Sova stated.

“What do you mean by ‘refuses to be forgotten’?” Rose asked.

“I mean, that the Remans are long gone, but we still know about them thanks to what they’ve left behind. The guy who had this place built, Flavius Julius Aurelian, he’s probably been dead for centuries. We will never meet him, or his children, or his children’s children, but we still know that he was here thanks to this ruin; thanks to that name right up there on that arch,” Sova argued as he pointed to the words chiseled into the concrete, “In that way, he has achieved some level of immortality. I don’t know if he was a good person or a bad person, but I know he was here. I want to be like that!” Sova said, speaking loudly and passionately.

“Sova, you’re doing it again,” Nashorn said.

“Huh? Oh, sorry about that,” Sova replied. A confused look formed on Rose’s face as she tried to process exactly how the conversation got to this point. Zimija leaned up next to Rose and spoke to her.

“Don’t worry about him, he just gets this way whenever he starts talking about architecture,” She explained.

“Oh…” Rose said. ‘He must be like how I am with art,'' she thought to herself.

“So, you want to be an architect and build buildings?” Rose asked. Sova nodded.

“Yes. I would like to study architecture and design buildings after we…” Sova said before stopping himself mid-sentence “... someday. I would like to do that someday.”

“Well, I think that’s wonderful and I hope you’re able to do that!” Rose replied with a warm smile. The group then continued walking for a few minutes, only to be stopped by a fork in the road.

“I think this is where we go our separate ways. The path on the right will take you to Weisshart and the path on the left leads to Pomodoro,” Rose explained.

“Thanks for leading us here,” Nashorn replied. Rose smiled.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, I should be thanking Niedźwiedź for pulling my handcart for me,” Rose responded.

“I’m just happy to repay you for the food we had last night, Ms. Rose. It was the best!” Niedźwiedź replied enthusiastically. He had a smile on his face. It was large and sincere; almost innocent. He then pulled the cart closer to Rose, who took it from him. Unlike Niedźwiedź, Rose used both of her hands and a non-negligible amount of energy to pull the cart. Rose and the rest of the group began to go their separate ways when suddenly Rose spoke up.

“Uh… Nashorn…” She called. The whole group stopped in their tracks and turned to look at her.

“I was uh… I was thinking that maybe… maybe when you guys are done with your work in Weisshart you could uh… come back to the inn, maybe? We’d love to have you back,” Rose stammered out as her knees began to shake a little.

“It depends on how our work goes, but you can consider it a possibility,” Nashorn replied. Rose smiled once again. With that, Rose and the group said their goodbyes and parted ways. Nashorn walked down the road as he thought about the events of the previous night.

The previous day

“Alright, sounds like we all know where we’re going to be and what we’re going to do when the princess enters the cave,” Nashorn said as he folded up a large map and placed it into a bag, “Any more questions?” he asked. The five of them shook their heads. They were sitting in the little room, reviewing the plan one more time before Rose returned to take their orders.

“So uh, does anyone know what they serve here? I’m actually really hungry right now…” Zmija asked.

“I hope they have pierogi…” Niedźwiedź said to himself as his stomach rumbled. He had consumed seven-eighths of his vodka and was still neither full nor inebriated.

“That girl smelled like she was a Strivalian, so I doubt it,” Hienă remarked. Zmija winced slightly. She had seen Hienă make judgements about people based on their scent many times before, but something about her ability to do that still made Zmija feel uncomfortable.

“I believe this place is run by Strivalians, so I guess that it would make sense that they serve that kind of food here,” Sova pointed out.

“Has anyone here actually had Strivalian food before?” Nashorn asked. Everyone shook their heads. A few eyes darted around the room as they tried to figure out what to do next. It was at this point when Rose re-entered the room.

“Hello everyone, have you figured out what you would like to order?” She asked. She seemed a little happier than when they had last seen her.

‘Getting slipped a few Alexanders will probably do that to you…’ Nashorn thought to himself.

“I’m afraid not,” Sova answered, “We might need a little more time. Also, do you think you could tell us what exactly you serve here?”

“No problem, We mainly serve Strivalian food, but also have a small selection of Alemanian meals for you, such as goulash, schnitzel, jägerschnitzel, and a few other things. We also sell these bratwursts in long bread rolls, but that’s only for lunchtime. What we are really known for is our Strivalian food,” Rose explained.

“Strivalian food?” Niedźwiedź responded.

“Yes, it is a type of cuisine that is truly unlike anything else in the world. Even the way that we enjoy our food is different. We typically emphasize lunch over breakfast and supper and we have a small fourth meal called ‘merenda’ in between lunch and supper. Our lunches and suppers are also more elaborate than those eaten by other people; typically they have four courses…” Rose rambled on, only to be cut off by Zmija.

“Four courses?!” she exclaimed. There was a vibrant spark in her eyes and a wide grin had formed on her face.

“Uh… yes… is that a problem?” Rose asked. Zmija shook her head. Niedźwiedź and Hienă were equally excited by the prospect of a four course meal.

“I think this is an interesting concept,” Sova said, “But, I still don’t actually know anything about Strivalian food. What can you tell me about it?”

“Well, we tend to incorporate a lot of olive oil, cheese, fresh tomatoes, garlic, and wine into our cooking. Oh, and we can’t forget about pasta! We have dozens of different types of pasta; spaghetti, lasagna, macaroni, pizzoccheri, agnolini, ravioli, casoncelli…” Rose said before going on to list off a long list of pasta types, “...and I believe that’s all of them. It’s basically one of our staple foods.”

“...I see…” Sova leaked out. He was slumped over onto the table with one palm dug into his cheek. The rest of the group was in a similar position, but Rose was oblivious to their body language. An audible growl could be heard from Niedźwiedź’s stomach.

“Do you think you could just get us something that would be a good introduction to Strivalian food?” Nashorn asked.

“A good introduction to Strivalian food?” Rose repeated. Then something suddenly clicked into her brain. “I know just the thing!” She exclaimed. Without any further ado she exited the little room and got right to work. The room was silent for a brief moment, but this silence was broken when Hienă spoke up.

“And here I thought that killing that Lowe guy was going to be the hardest part of this job. I was this close to snapping that bitch’s neck,” She said while holding her index finger a mere hair’s breadth away from her thumb. Sova and Zmija laughed while Farkash allowed a small grin to form on his face. This was all short lived, as they all quickly remembered exactly who was speaking and what that person was capable of.

A little under one half-hour later, Rose entered the little room holding a serving tray with multiple bowls on it. When she placed the bowls on the table, Nashorn could see that they were filled with a sort of creamy rice and small bits of gray mushrooms. The individual rice grains were short and fat and Nashorn could see both little green chopped chives and bits of shallots in the bowl.

“What is this?” Sova asked as he gazed into his bowl.

“It’s called ‘risotto’. It’s a sort of creamy rice-based dish. This particular one has portabella mushrooms in it,” Rose explained.

“Is this all we’re getting?” Niedźwiedź asked as a frown began to form on his face.

“Oh, no! This is just the first course,” Rose responded, “The main course will be coming up in a few minutes. For now how about you just tell me what you think of the risotto?”

Without further ado, the group began to eat the risotto. It was hot and creamy, but rather bland. The principal ingredients, the rice and the mushrooms, weren’t exactly something that could hold a dish together on their own in terms of taste, but, with that having been said, Nashorn couldn’t really call the risotto unpleasant. There was a slight hint of melted cheese mixed in there. It was rather subtle, but tasteful. By the time they were halfway through, neither Nashorn nor anyone else in the group could deny that they felt a warm and filling feeling in their stomachs.

“What do you think?” Rose asked. Nashorn nodded in approval.

“Very good,” He said. A smile lit up on Rose’s face.

“Wonderful!” She responded, “In that case you’re going to absolutely love the next course.”

Ten minutes later, Rose wheeled a cart with six dishes covered in metal cloches on them into the little room. She passed them around and then instructed the group to simultaneously lift up the cloches to reveal their food. As Nashorn reached over to touch the cloche, he found it warm to the touch. Upon lifting it up, he found a strange dish before him. It was a circular piece of flat, but leavened bread topped with melted mozzarella cheese, onions, white mushrooms, and red circular slivers of what appeared to be meat cut from some sort of sausage. The edges of the slivers of meat curled upward; each of them forming a short, inverted dome. Towards the edges of the dish, Nashorn could see a red paste peeking out from underneath the melted cheese.

“What is this?” Nashorn asked.

“It’s called ‘pizza’. It’s quite possibly one of our greatest dishes. You eat by cutting it through its center four times in order to cut out eight slices.” Rose explained.

“Oh, you mean like a pie?” Sova asked. Rose nodded her head in approval.

“Yeah, like a pie,” Rose answered. Nashorn pulled out his knife and took a fork from the table before cutting his pizza into eight roughly equal slices. He then set down his utensils and picked up a slice of pizza by its outer crust. Nashorn bit into this strange food and instantly felt a wonderful sensation in his mouth. The melted cheese, the red paste (which had turned out to be tomato sauce), the bread, and the slices of meat all came together in a heavenly combination of flavors. In that moment, Nashorn was transfixed. He did not speak. He did not think. All that he could do was consume the intoxicating food before him. Nashorn had finished his third slice before his senses had returned to him. Nashorn took a sip of ale and surveyed the room. His companions were all as enraptured by this dish as he was. Zmija was practically inhaling her pizza slice by slice while Niedźwiedź had ignored all of Rose’s instructions and was eating the pizza without cutting it up first. Instead, the large man simply grabbed the food, folded it like a gyro in his hand and attacked it with his mouth. The rest of the group were a little bit more reserved in their reactions to the pizza, but it was clear that they enjoyed it.

‘Woah,’ Nashorn thought to himself, ‘Farkash rarely smiles for anything and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hienă enjoy eating something that wasn’t still alive this much. They all look so happy…’

A small smile formed on Nashorn’s face, only to be crushed by a sudden wave of anxiety. Was Zmija mouth open a little too wide? Was Niedźwiedź’s strength a little too apparent? Had that girl caught on the fact that something about the group was a little off?

“Uh, sir?” Rose asked. Nashorn instantly sobered up and turned to face the girl.

“Yes?” Nashorn responded.

“Are you enjoying your pizza?” she inquired. Nashorn nodded his head.

“Yes, It’s wonderful… I only wish I had tried it sooner,” Nashorn answered. There was nothing in her tone or body language that would suggest that she was afraid or even suspicious.

‘She suspects nothing,’ Nashorn thought to himself, ‘Maybe I was a little paranoid.’ This statement might have been true, but that was irrelevant due to one simple fact that Nashorn was unaware of: Rose had been staring at him and him alone during the past few minutes.

“Excellent,” Rose said with a smile on her face, “As part of the main course, we also have some salad and breadsticks.” She then took two bowls from her cart and placed them on the table. One contained a salad consisting of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and shredded cheese while the other contained long and narrow sticks of bread that were slathered with a combination of melted butter and garlic sauce before being dusted with a layer of cheese that had been so finely grated that it was a flour-like powder.

Rose passed around some extra bowls and plates for the salad and breadsticks. Nashorn helped himself to these sides and found himself pleasantly surprised.

“So… uh, sir…” Rose asked.

“Yes?” Nashorn responded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” Rose inquired.

“Nashorn.” answered out of politeness.

“Oh, what about your surname?” She asked.

‘Wait, why does this girl care about my name? Is she on to something?’ Nashorn thought.

“Don’t have one. It’s just Nashorn,” The white-haired man responded. For some reason, Rose appeared to be content with this answer. This surprised Nashorn as he didn’t expect her to believe him, even if it was the truth.

“Okay, Mr. Nashorn. My name is Rosalba Artemisia Zimmerman, but everyone just calls me Rose,” The young woman replied. Nashorn nodded. He was still a little confused by this girl’s actions, but she hadn’t done anything that would suggest that she was suspicious of his group or working for some sort of third party. There was a brief pause, followed by Rose speaking up once again.

“Um… Mr. Nashorn, is it okay if I ask you a question?” Rose asked. In his mind, Nashorn ran through all of the lies that he had prepared for his current mission. If anyone questioned him, he had a perfectly reasonable, innocent, and acceptable answer. He knew why he was in Nordfell, who had sent him, and what he was supposed to be doing. He could tell someone these lies as though they were simple, objective, facts. He even had documents that would corroborate his story.

“Sure,” Nashorn responded. Nashorn prepared to tell this woman a lie about who he was or what he was doing there, but what came out of her mouth was something that he could have never seen coming.

“Mr. Nashorn, why do you look so strange?” Rose asked. She spoke without any animosity in her voice, as though she was asking a friend how their day had been. The rest of the group stopped what they were doing and stared at Rose. A dead silence fell over the room.

Sova inhaled deeply as he stared at Nashorn and Rose with a great deal of anxiety. He, along with almost everyone else in the room, knew that the last three people who made any sort of remark about Nashorn’s appearance did not live to tell about his reaction. Yes, the last time this had happened was quite a while ago, but a precedent is a precedent.

“Why do you want to know? Do you have a problem with the way I look?” Nashorn replied as his cold red eyes stared into her warm brown ones. His heart rate remained steady, but his muscles began to tense up. He was like an animal about to pounce on his prey.

“I… I just never saw another person who looked like you before. And I don’t have a problem with the way you look. I actually think you look pretty…” Rose blurted out.

“What?” Nashorn spat back.

“I mean you look like a Reman statue; like elegant white marble! I think that’s pretty!” Rose responded as her heart beat out of her chest. Nashorn paused for a few seconds before giving a response.

“I have a skin condition called albinism. My body does not produce pigment like everyone else's does. That’s why my skin is white and my eyes are red,” Nashorn explained. He felt a heaviness in his heart as he spent a moment thinking about the things he didn’t share with her: the years he spent in total darkness, the surgery that restored his vision, the sting of the eye drops he took every night.

“If your body can’t produce pigment, then why are your eyes red? Shouldn’t they be white?” Rose asked.

“I was told that’s because of the blood vessels in my eyes. In other people there would be pigment there that would be more prominent than the blood,” Nashorn answered.

“You mean like a little drop of red paint in a big dollop of brown or blue paint?” Rose asked. Nashorn nodded.

“Yeah, like that,” He replied.

“I have another question, Mr. Nashon… if you don’t mind…” Rose asked.

‘Well, she already asked me about my skin. I guess it can’t get much worse from here,’ Nashorn thought.

“Sure,” he said.

“I saw that you had a sketchbook. Do you mind if I look at it?” She asked. Nashorn shrugged and produced the black, leather-bound sketchbook. He then handed it to Rose, who began to scan every page. The rest of the world began to disappear around her as flipped through the pages; taking in every minute detail.

“This is very good. Who taught you how to draw?” Rose asked without looking up from the book.

“Nobody. I taught myself,” Nashorn responded.

“That’s incredible!” Rose exclaimed, “How long have you been drawing?”

“About ten years. It started off as part of a treatment for an eye condition I had, but I just kept doing it…”

“An eye condition?”

“Yeah, I had a lazy eye. Part of my treatment was to wear an eye patch over my good eye while drawing something with my bad eye. I guess I just liked drawing…” Nashorn explained.

“This is it! This is the one!” Rose suddenly exclaimed. She then put the open book on the table and directed Nashorn’s attention to it.

“This is supposed to be the room you’re staying in, right?” Rose asked.

“Yes…” Nashorn answered.

“I need to show you something. Do you have a pencil and a straight edge?” Rose said, speaking in a tone that was halfway between asking and demanding. She felt like she was acting on impulse; like she wasn’t fully in control of herself. Nashorn gave her a pencil before grabbing the handle of the dagger on his belt. He pulled it out of its scabbard, revealing a misericorde dagger with a long, straight blade and a small handguard. The handle was wrapped in black leather while the pommel was plated in silver and shaped like a human skull.

“Thank you,” Rose said as she took the pencil and the dagger, “Can I draw here?” She asked as she pointed to the blank page next to Nashorn’s drawing of the inn room. Nashorn nodded his head.

“So, I can see that you were trying to draw the room that you’re staying in right now and you’re doing a pretty good job, but let me show you this trick that will make it look much better,” She explained. She then drew a single horizontal line across the page while using Nashorn’s dagger as a straight edge. Rose followed this up by drawing a single dot in the middle of this line and a large rectangle, the center of which was the dot she had drawn previously. Rose then lined up the dagger so that it intersected both the upper right corner of the rectangle and the dot before using that exact angle to draw a line that extended out from the corner of the rectangle to the edge of the page. She then repeated this for every corner of the rectangle. At this point her actions had drawn the attention of everyone in Nashorn’s group.

“So, what I am doing here is called ‘single point perspective’. That line I drew in the beginning was supposed to represent the horizon and the dot in the center of it was supposed to represent something called the ‘vanishing point’. It’s basically supposed to be the center of your field of vision. If you know what you’re doing then you can use it to create the illusion of depth,” Rose explained. She then proceeded to draw the same objects that Nashorn had drawn in his drawing.

“The trick to single point perspective is that the vertical lines of objects above or below the vanishing point must all point towards the vanishing point while the horizontal lines of objects to the right or left of the vanishing point must also point to the vanishing point,” She explained as she drew a table, chair, and window while using Nashorn’s dagger as a both a straight edge and means of angling lines towards the vanishing point. Nashorn looked at Rose’s hands with amazement. She moved the pencil with a level of speed and elegance that Nashorn had never seen before. After a few minutes she had finished the drawing.

“That’s amazing!” Sova exclaimed.

“That’s a very pretty picture, Ms. Rose!” Niedźwiedź said.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day when someone drew something better than Nashorn…” Zmija muttered as Farkash nodded in approval.

Nashorn looked at the drawing and then looked at Rose.

“This picture… It has a sort of depth to it that I’ve never seen before...Your linework is incredible…” Nashorn spoke. Rose’s cheeks reddened.

“Tuh-thank you… I don’t know what to say… nobody has ever said anything like this about my art before…” Rose muttered. Her insides felt like they had been transformed into a thick warm paste that was now sloshing about within her.

“Do you know more techniques? I’d love to learn more.” Nashorn asked.

“Well, I also know ‘two-point perspective’, which is really useful for drawing buildings…” Rose began.

“Tell me more…” Nashorn requested.

“I’d like to see more, too,” Sova chimed in.

“Me too. Your drawings are pretty cool, Rose,” Zmija added. Rose was about to respond when the door to the little room was violently flung open and a loud noise that turned her blood to ice interrupted her.