Throughout their journey, Mordelain had all but ignored Philomel’s crew. Now she realised how much of a mistake that was. She followed the trio as they departed the merchants, gilded waistcoats and uppity frowns and all. Finding a place to call home had lifted her spirits, but Fallien had a way of making even the world faring folk isolated and withdrawn. There was still time to get to know her companions, and to what ends they could help one another after their task was done.

“That’s quite the gift you have there,” she said softly, appearing at Harmony’s side, arms swinging, feet tromping.

The Fae smiled, eyes set ahead to avoid tarnishing her silk and scintillating looks with an awkward collision with a branch.

“Says the one who worked out our little ploy with eyes alone.”

The il’Jhain had to smile. She had been silent, true, but the desert dweller in her kept her senses finely tuned to every going on. Anyone who spent half their day traversing the bazaars of Irakkam had to learn how to spot a pickpocket or a kukri a mile off. Their lives depended on it in her home, and it depended on it now.

“<We all need to tackle the real problem.>” Her mind returned to the matter of linguistics, and how they might learn to communicate with someone whose language shared no similarities with any of theirs.

“<I think I can help there,>” Vincent chimed in.

The group grew closer to the clearing, so much that the sound of birds and bees dulled and the bustle of men and women who had no idea what was happening drifted through the trees.

“Well, I hope so, Professor,” Mordelain said with a smirk. “We academics have a reputation to uphold.” Another mental note amongst many, ask Vincent Cain what exactly his expertise was, and why he seemed to think anybody cared.

“I...anyway,” he shuffled and huffed to catch up, and came between Harmony and Mordelain, a swaddle of cloth and disappointment. “Get close to the cat creatures and observe their behaviour. Start with simple words, names, places, the like.”

“They’re not children,” Harmony rolled her eyes.

“It is a good idea,” Phi interjected.

In a line of mismatched ideals and hidden agendas, the party came to the edge of the camp and stood, like surprised statues, to survey the scene. The map came to life, and Harmony checked the details she had memorised with the reality before her. People from all walks of life had arrived, invited or otherwise, to get to the bottom of Althanas’ newest mystery. The great tent at the centre of the clearing was obviously important, although wherever or not the refugees cared for the gilded silk, nobody could say.

“Start from the bottom up,” the faun continued, when everything had sunken in.

“Precisely. Thank you!” Vincent, fatigued and flustered, snapped his hands summoning the aforementioned documentation from a small c. He waved it triumphantly in Mordelain’s face. “If you have any ideas, ‘professor’, you’ve time to think of them whilst I tend to business.” Vincent moved ahead, to the gate house and small crowd of people witnessing the wonders of Coronian bureaucracy.

A ramshackle fence surrounded some of the camp. There were clear shortages of wood and nails, and where the fence failed, suspiciously lax guards plugged the holes. Mordelain folded her arms across her chest.

“I should probably tell him I’m a professor of history and ancient languages at Fallien University…” she said aloud, just so Harmony could share the irony.

“Do we just wait?” Juli took a furtive step forwards, her size and beauty matching Gideon’s brawn and bluntness. “It must look awfully odd, us all stood here like the usual suspects.”

“Let him do his thing...once we’re inside I will show him a thing or two about cunning linguists.”

Harmony, unable to hide her snigger a second time, broke into inappropriate laughter. Mordelain watched their earnest bookworm put his plan into action, a bemused expression on her face, and the smell of campfires, roasting rabbits, and urine singing her nasal hairs.