table in the crowded tavern and ordered food and drink.
"How far did we manage to travel today?" Damion asked as he plucked a turkey leg from the tray of food the serving girl placed in front of him.
Veren shrugged. "About twelve leagues. We made fairly good time since the roads are so well maintained. The royal family created a work force centuries ago that's only purpose is to patrol and maintain the roads of the kingdom. It makes the transporting of goods from the local farms to the larger markets in the cities much easier and more efficient." He grabbed a turkey leg for himself, then settled back in his seat. "The Road Legion is the reason our country is so prosperous. They're not only skilled engineers, but formidable warriors. They are entrusted with guarding these roads from bandits and highwaymen."
"Is there a lot of that here?"
Veren shook his head. "Not this far south. But the area near the border of Deiria has been known for the occasional attack on merchant caravans. It's usually a bunch of Deirians that crossed the borders looking to find an easy mark. The Road Legions tends to deal with these men harshly, so it doesn't happen often."
"How long will it take for us to reach the border of Deiria?"
"At least three weeks. Maybe closer to four. We still have a long way to go before we reach the lands of those brigands."
"What are the Deirians like? " Damion asked, discarding the turkey bone and grabbing another leg. "Will we have much trouble crossing the border?"
" It won't be easy. Relations between our two countries have never been good, and with recent events, they'll probably be even more suspicious of strangers entering their lands." The one eared man took a long drink from his tankard, then continued. "Their lands are much more heavily wooded than our kingdom. Our people have spent thousands of years developing our lands into the orderly and efficient kingdom it is now. The Deirians, on the other hand, spend most of their lives wandering through their extensive forests. They are very skilled hunters, and much of the trade that occurs between our people revolve around furs and fresh meat that they gather. In return, they get access to the goods produced on our farms. Otherwise, our people have very little contact. We don't actively prohibit our intermingling with their people, but it's definitely frowned upon."
Damion noticed a doddering old man who had been slowly shuffling in their direction, trying hard to appear nonchalant. It was obvious that he had heard them talking, and the old man seemed to be quite interested in what they were discussing.
Damio n kicked Veren under the table, then gestured to the new comer, who had shuffled a few feet closer and was now pretending to inspect his tankard of ale closely.
After several long moments of silence, the old man sighed heavily. "I'm guessing I've been noticed?" He asked in a gravelly voice, without turning around.
Veren snorted in amusement. "Aye, you've been noticed."
The old man turned around and gave them a helpless grin. "Most folk don't seem to pay much attention to us old folk. I was hoping to get closer without drawing your suspicion." The old man was dressed in a stained, but otherwise clean smock, and a pair of crude pants made of what seemed to be some sort of rough burlap. His hair was an odd shade of translucent white, and his face was deeply wrinkled and weathered from years of toiling in the sun.
"And what were you hoping to discover?" Damion asked curiously.
The old man shrugged. "I was hoping to overhear something interesting. There isn't much for an old timer like myself to occupy his time."
"So you spend it eavesdropping?"
The old man laughed. " I guess you could say that! You would be surprised how much you can learn if you keep your head down and your mouth shut!" His face took on a cunning look. "I couldn't help but overhear that you were heading north. I might have some recent news on that there area, but I've grown awful
"How far did we manage to travel today?" Damion asked as he plucked a turkey leg from the tray of food the serving girl placed in front of him.
Veren shrugged. "About twelve leagues. We made fairly good time since the roads are so well maintained. The royal family created a work force centuries ago that's only purpose is to patrol and maintain the roads of the kingdom. It makes the transporting of goods from the local farms to the larger markets in the cities much easier and more efficient." He grabbed a turkey leg for himself, then settled back in his seat. "The Road Legion is the reason our country is so prosperous. They're not only skilled engineers, but formidable warriors. They are entrusted with guarding these roads from bandits and highwaymen."
"Is there a lot of that here?"
Veren shook his head. "Not this far south. But the area near the border of Deiria has been known for the occasional attack on merchant caravans. It's usually a bunch of Deirians that crossed the borders looking to find an easy mark. The Road Legions tends to deal with these men harshly, so it doesn't happen often."
"How long will it take for us to reach the border of Deiria?"
"At least three weeks. Maybe closer to four. We still have a long way to go before we reach the lands of those brigands."
"What are the Deirians like? " Damion asked, discarding the turkey bone and grabbing another leg. "Will we have much trouble crossing the border?"
" It won't be easy. Relations between our two countries have never been good, and with recent events, they'll probably be even more suspicious of strangers entering their lands." The one eared man took a long drink from his tankard, then continued. "Their lands are much more heavily wooded than our kingdom. Our people have spent thousands of years developing our lands into the orderly and efficient kingdom it is now. The Deirians, on the other hand, spend most of their lives wandering through their extensive forests. They are very skilled hunters, and much of the trade that occurs between our people revolve around furs and fresh meat that they gather. In return, they get access to the goods produced on our farms. Otherwise, our people have very little contact. We don't actively prohibit our intermingling with their people, but it's definitely frowned upon."
Damion noticed a doddering old man who had been slowly shuffling in their direction, trying hard to appear nonchalant. It was obvious that he had heard them talking, and the old man seemed to be quite interested in what they were discussing.
Damio n kicked Veren under the table, then gestured to the new comer, who had shuffled a few feet closer and was now pretending to inspect his tankard of ale closely.
After several long moments of silence, the old man sighed heavily. "I'm guessing I've been noticed?" He asked in a gravelly voice, without turning around.
Veren snorted in amusement. "Aye, you've been noticed."
The old man turned around and gave them a helpless grin. "Most folk don't seem to pay much attention to us old folk. I was hoping to get closer without drawing your suspicion." The old man was dressed in a stained, but otherwise clean smock, and a pair of crude pants made of what seemed to be some sort of rough burlap. His hair was an odd shade of translucent white, and his face was deeply wrinkled and weathered from years of toiling in the sun.
"And what were you hoping to discover?" Damion asked curiously.
The old man shrugged. "I was hoping to overhear something interesting. There isn't much for an old timer like myself to occupy his time."
"So you spend it eavesdropping?"
The old man laughed. " I guess you could say that! You would be surprised how much you can learn if you keep your head down and your mouth shut!" His face took on a cunning look. "I couldn't help but overhear that you were heading north. I might have some recent news on that there area, but I've grown awful
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