Elara's pov
Suddenly, the rain started as a whisper.
Just a few drops at first. Light. Almost gentle. I looked up at the grey sky and pulled my cloak tighter.
"It's going to get worse," Kaelen said from beside me.
He was right.
Within an hour, the whisper became a roar. Rain poured down like someone had overturned a bucket in the sky. It soaked through my cloak. Through my rough brown dress. Through everything until I was wet to the bone.
My boots, filled with water. Each step made a squelching sound. The mud on the road was thick. Heavy. It clung to my feet, making every step harder than the last.
"How much farther?" I asked, shouting over the sound of the rain.
"A few more hours!" Kaelen shouted back. "We should reach the first settlement before nightfall!"
Hours. I had to walk in this for hours.
I wanted to complain. Wanted to say I was cold and tired and miserable. But I kept my mouth shut.
This was what I'd asked for. This was what I needed to see.
The people in the hinterlands walked these roads every day. They didn't have horses or carriages or servants to carry them. They walked. In the rain. In the mud. In the cold.
And they kept going.
So I would too.
*
*
The mud got worse as we walked. The road, if you could even call it that, was half-destroyed. Big holes where the stones had broken apart. Deep ruts from wagon wheels. Places where the rain had washed everything away completely.
"Why doesn't anyone fix this?" I asked.
"Because no one cares," Kaelen said. "The capital sends tax collectors but never road workers. They take from these people but never give back."
I looked down at my boots, completely covered in mud now. Thought about the smooth stone roads in the capital. The wide streets. The bridges that were repaired the moment they showed any crack.
"That's not right," I said.
"No," Kaelen agreed. "It's not."
We walked in silence after that. The rain never stopped. My legs ached. My back hurt. My hands were numb from cold.
But I kept walking.
This was my lesson. This was what these people lived with every single day. Not just once. Not just for a few hours. Every. Single. Day.
Hardship here wasn't dramatic. It wasn't a crisis that came and went. It was constant. Something you just endured because you had no other choice.
*
*
The settlement appeared just as the sun was setting behind the grey clouds.
It was small. Maybe fifteen houses. All of them looked old and worn. Roofs that needed repair. Walls that needed paint. Gardens that looked more like mud pits than anything that could grow food.
"This is it?" I asked.
"This is it," Kaelen said. "Remember, let me do most of the talking. Keep your head down. Don't make eye contact unless someone speaks to you directly."
"I remember," I said.
We approached slowly. I expected suspicion. Maybe even hostility. Two strangers arriving at nightfall, soaked and muddy.
Instead, children appeared first.
They came running out of the houses, barefoot despite the rain, laughing and shouting.
"Strangers! Strangers!"
"Mama, come look!"
"Are they traders?"
They circled around us, their faces bright with curiosity. Not scared. Not suspicious. Just... excited.
A woman came out of one of the houses. She was thin, with tired eyes, but her face was kind. "Quiet down, you lot! Give them space to breathe!"
The children backed up, but they kept staring at us with wide eyes.
"Good evening," the woman said to us. "You're traveling late."
"We got caught in the rain," Kaelen said. "Took longer than we thought. Is there somewhere we could stay for the night? An inn, maybe?"
The woman smiled. "An inn? No, friend. Nothing like that here. But you're welcome to shelter in our barn. It's dry. Has fresh hay. Warm enough."
"We don't want to impose," Kaelen said.
"It's no imposition," the woman said. "We're not barbarians. We don't leave people out in the rain. Come on. Both of you look half-frozen."
More people came out of their houses now. An old man with a walking stick. A young couple holding hands. More children. All of them looking at us with the same cautious curiosity.
Not hostile. Not demanding. Just... welcoming.
"Where are you from?" the old man asked.
"West," Kaelen said. "From the capital region. We're traveling to visit family in the northern villages."
"Long journey," a man said. "Dangerous, too. Roads are bad. And there's bandits."
"We'll be careful," Kaelen said.
"Come inside first," the woman said. "I'm Mara. That's my husband Jonn, and our little ones."
She pointed to a small boy and girl hiding behind her skirts.
"I'm Kael," Kaelen said. Then he gestured to me. "This is Lara."
Lara. The name I'd used that night at the tavern. The name I'd told him before everything changed.
"Well, Kael and Lara, come in before you catch your death," Mara said.
The inside of her house was simple. One room. One fireplace. A table with four chairs. Two small beds in the corner where I guessed the children slept.
"Sit by the fire," Mara said. "I'll get you something warm to drink."
"Thank you," I said quietly. My voice sounded strange. Small. I wasn't used to talking like this. Like someone who was grateful for basic kindness.
I sat by the fire and held my hands out to the flames. The warmth felt like heaven.
Mara brought us cups of something hot. It wasn't quite tea. Wasn't quite soup. Just hot water with some herbs in it.
But it was warm. And that was all that mattered.
"Thank you," I said again. "This is very kind of you."
"It's just water," Mara said with a smile. "Nothing special."
But it was special. Because she was giving it to strangers. To people she didn't know. Without asking for anything in return.
Jonn came in a moment later, carrying bread. It was dark brown, hard-looking bread. He cut it into pieces with a knife and handed some to us.
"I'm sorry it's not more," Mara said. "Things are... tight right now. But you're welcome to what we have."
I looked at the bread in my hand. It was maybe a quarter of a small loaf.
And they were sharing it with us.
In the palace, I ate until I was full every single night. Multiple courses. Rich foods. Desserts. More than I could ever finish.
And here, these people who barely had enough were sharing what little they had with complete strangers.
My throat felt tight. "Thank you. This is more than enough."
We ate slowly. The children stared at us with wide eyes.
"Are you really from near the capital?" the little girl asked.
"We are," Kaelen said.
"What's it like?" she asked. Her eyes were so big. So full of wonder.
"It's very different from here," Kaelen said gently. "Lots of people. Big buildings. Wide streets."
"And the palace?" the boy asked. "Is it really made of gold?"
Kaelen smiled. "Not gold. White stone. But it's very beautiful."
"I want to see it someday," the girl said dreamily.
"Maybe you will," Kaelen told her.
But I could hear the doubt in his voice. These children would probably never see the capital. Would probably never leave this small settlement. Would grow up here, work here, die here.
And the palace would remain a dream.
A knock came at the door.