“Despite the vast size of the world we live in, tales abound of people of unexpected relations meeting each other in unlikely circumstances all the time. So common were these stories that they became an inseparable part from folk tales told to children all over. It was almost as if fate conspired to make those unlikely meetings possible.” - Old saying from the early Clangeddin Empire, by an unknown philosopher.

“One thing strikes me as curious, Sir Rodolfo,” said Aideen while they ate at one of the city’s larger open-air restaurants, set up within a public park. The setup was simplicity itself, with blankets laid on the grass for the diners to sit on, and the plates of food brought around by the servers at work while the chefs busied themselves over the open flames of the firewood stove they used. “I noticed that your swordsmanship style was rarely used here, yet I could swear I’ve seen it elsewhere before, in the southern continent at that.”

“That is most curious, Miss,” replied the old knight with furrowed brows. He tore a bit of the corner of the spongy pancake that served as their “plate” over the large leaves the food was placed on and used it to dab a generous amount of the thick stew of meat and vegetables on it before munching on the whole handful of food. “The style I practice is one handed down my family line. As far as I know only my son and two of my grandkids practiced it, on top of the young lady who I taught at her father the Duke’s request.”

“Might you perchance have a family member some generations back that traveled to Ur-Teros?” she asked as she scooped up some heavily spiced chunks of potatoes and minced meats with a piece of the pancake “plate” as well before she brought it to her mouth. “The one I know of who practiced a very similar style said she learn it from her grandfather, who came from Alcidea.”

“Now that you mention it… My father did once tell me that one of my grand-uncles supposedly left for the southern continent when he was young, that was long before I was born though. I believe we have since lost contact with him,” replied the old knight after some thought. “Assuming it is someone he taught or descended from him, it must have been several generations past though.”

“The person in question was around your age when I first met her, which was around three decades ago,” said Aideen after some thought. “So at least the ages seemed to match. That said, she had a different family name though, so it might just be someone with a similar style.”

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“What was their name if I may ask?” queried the old knight as a waitress brought tankards of mead for the two of them and left after she gently placed them next to the plate of food the two shared. “It might well be that we’re distantly related for all I know.”

“Adelheid Vuldar Haenlien,” replied Aideen as she took her tankard and drained half of the mead inside in one gulp. Across from her, she saw a spark of recognition on the old knight’s face, mixed with some surprise. “A name you recognize I take it?”

“Vuldar was my paternal grandmother’s family name before she married. The grand-uncle I mentioned was her younger brother, so it seems that you have met one of my distant cousins down in the south, Miss,” said the old man, his voice still filled with surprise and no small amount of wonderment. “Funny how the world could feel so small sometimes.”

“It sure does feel that way at times, indeed,” replied Aideen with a smile as she toasted the old man with her tankard of mead. While normally mead was associated with weaker fermented drinks that’s more on the sweet side, the mead served in the Royal Capital was stronger than most she had tasted outside dwarven lands, and had a strong alcoholic kick that burned its way down to the stomach. “I’ll be sure to tell her about your family when I go back one day.”

“She is well and healthy in her old age then?” asked Rodolfo with a quirked eyebrow. He himself was in his sixties already, and since Aideen said she first met his relative when she was around his age three decades ago, that would have placed her in her eighth or ninth decade by now.

“Oh right, forgot to tell you that she’s of mixed breed,” replied Aideen with an amused smile. Sometimes she forgot how short life was for some people, especially those who had lifespans of not even a century long. “Your distant cousin’s a quarter-elf, so she likely got another two centuries or so ahead of her at the very least.”

“Hoh, unexpected. Then again, good for her,” said the old knight as he picked up another handful of food off the “plate”. By now the two of them had eaten roughly half of the large pancake used as a plate and the side dishes piled on top of it.

It was a rather odd flavor at first, the spongy pancake tasting of some sort of wheat she had not recognized, with a prominent sourness to it, but the flavor meshed well with the rest of the liberally spiced meats and vegetables, cooked to a tender consistency and doused with the thick sauce they stewed in. Naturally, parts of the pancake were soaked thoroughly with the sauces, and they lent a different flavor to those parts.

The two of them ate until the whole plate of food was devoured thoroughly, with a couple tankards of mead each to wash it down, and only then departed from the eatery. It was late in the night by then, and as Aideen had agreed to mostly act on her own until the noble scions departed from the capital, they sought out an inn to spend the night in.

Both of them were pretty full by then, and mildly intoxicated from the alcohol they had, though it was only to the level of a pleasant buzz. The old knight raised one eyebrow questioningly when Aideen asked the inn’s proprietor for one room with a large bed, but had not raised any protest either as he followed her over to their room.