When she next woke up, she felt more human and her thoughts were clearer. As the dreamless sleep gave way to consciousness, she blinked, taking in her surroundings for the first time.

She was in a narrow wooden bed. The covers were plain but sufficed in keeping her warm. The pillow beneath her was not as soft as the feathered cushions she had seen in the palace, but they were practical. There was a faint medicinal smell in the air, reminding her of healers back home. Her left hand still clutched the tome and her staff; it seemed even in sleep, she was unwilling to be fully at ease.

She sat up at her own pace, wary of another stomach-lurching episode of dizziness, but it didn't come. She gave a sigh of relief: at least something was under her control again.

Tia swung her legs gingerly onto the ground, shivering as her bare feet made contact with the cold smooth wooden floor. She was dressed in a flimsy night gown, which did little to shield her from the cold when out of the warmth of the bed. The dark, tattered travel cloak she wore was nowhere to be found, as were the clothes she wore when escaping Capital; no doubt they had already been discarded due to their sorry state.

She stood up, careful, gripping the wooden bed post. The plainly decorated room swam out of focus for a short period of time but then recovered. Tia blinked her green eyes and shivered.

The room had no windows. She wondered if it was snowing. Back in Mooncliffe, fluffy snow would accumulate on their hilltop house, freezing the puddles and making trekking into the city almost impossible without adequate footwear. She and Mommu would take it in turns running to the backhouse and fetching more wood from storage, although more often than not she would bully him into doing it for her instead.

Her chest tightened at the memory. She and Mommu's laughter echoed in her mind, reminding her of times gone by. She stroked the tome, occupied. He must have survived: a year under the sole tutorship of Master Anu would not have produced an apprentice unable to look after himself. Mommu had absolute faith in her, and so she would in him also. With that steeling thought, she nodded to herself and picked up the book, noticing some garments laid out for her on the back of one of the chairs for the first time.

She padded across the barely-furnished room. Aside from the bed, the small table upon which last night's dinner was set, two wooden chairs, and the flag of Gwent hanging over the door, the room was plain. The simple décor was refreshing, compared to the frivolous decorations that swamped the palace of the kings in Capital.

She changed into the new garments, which were a washed shade of pink with long sleeves. She clumsily tied the sash around her waist. The thick layers made her feel heavy. The leggings were snug and thick and the tall boots she slipped into were strong, made of sturdy brown hide. The tunic going over the long-sleeved top fell nearly to her knees, with a split up the sides and deep pockets. It was made of heavy material and itched. She looked down at her attire; it was rather a bizarre look, but nevertheless she was grateful for having clean clothes after being clad in soiled clothing for so long.

She tucked the Book of Wind securely down her front: the thick tome fitted snugly against her chest, light in spite of its appearance. Its weight was reassuring. Her Caster staff held secure in her right hand, she made her way to the door.

The corridor was quiet. She slipped out, closing the door quietly behind her and tried to orientate herself.

The passage ran from one end to the other. Sunlight streamed through the glass windows at the top of the walls, landing on the bare stone ground. At either end, people passed by in low-volume conversations. There were scrolls lined up along the wall, but they were in a language she didn't understand.

She was in no danger here, they said; despite that, she couldn't help but feel on edge. She had no idea where she was or what kind of company these Gwentians were. The first encounter had more or less cemented her belief that their culture was very different to her own, although why they kept her alive when they could very easily have killed her in her vulnerable state was beyond her.

"Nice to see you've recovered," said a voice from behind her, making Tia jump. She whirled around, seeing the blue-eyed girl from yesterday staring at her with the same inquisitive look. She clutched several handfuls of herbs in one hand.

"I... yes, I have..."

"Sarpanit," the older girl reminded her, giving her a cheeky grin.  Despite the apparent difference in their age, Sarpanit was the same height as Tia, with a rather common accent, stocky build, and strong arms. Probably because of her work as a maid. Tia barely managed to suppress a flinch as the Gwentian hooked an arm around hers. The overly affectionate nature of these people was making her very uncomfortable. "Come on; I'm just doing some errands for the doctor. I can show you around."

"Where am I?"

"This is the Old Palace, but we've altered it so that it's more of a storage house now. We have everything here: food, water, medicines, and armoury. I can show you all of that if you want."

Tia let herself be dragged around. Sarpanit seemed a chirpy girl: full of life and optimistic. Her way of speaking was strange to Tia; sometimes she wondered if she truly understood the meaning of the girl's words and her manner of cutting certain words short and strange phrasings. Nevertheless, there was nothing other than genuine goodwill and kindness in those deep blue eyes, which lit up whenever she talked of something favourable.

Her chattering was almost endless.

"I wish you could see the harvest – but this isn't the right time of the year! Everyone was so busy a few months ago – nobody had any rest for several weeks! School had stopped so that the children could help out as well. We've had such a good harvest this year. But at least now the winter months are coming we're fully prepared!"

"You were not, in the past?" Tia was curious. Sarpanit passed her herbs to a passer-by with a pleasant "Thank you" and guided her through a stone archway, where a garden was situated. On either side of the stone path were plants bathed in sunlight, with peculiarly-shaped leaves and colourful flowers, arranged in neat rows. A distinct, sharp smell was in the air.

"Gwent is not a particularly well-resourced country, as you may have noticed." Sarpanit slowed, giving Tia a chance to see the variety of plants as they passed. People dressed in neat overalls were busy pruning and watering. "We rely a lot on what we can harvest or we suffer greatly during the winter and times of illness. It's been better in the past five years though. After the Great Plague, we've managed to replenish some of our numbers and resources, but everyone does their part. We have to."

"The Great Plague?"

"It was ten years ago. There was some sort of sweating sickness that swept through our land." Sarpanit's face held a haunted look. Tia regretted asking. "Most of the old and the young perished, and even the young and fit were not immune. It took my mother and several of my siblings. Since then, we have worked hard to rebuild this country. We had hit a low point, but we're recovering."

They were quiet for a few moments. Tia, not knowing what to say, busied herself by admiring the plants nearby. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, which still lingered in the air. It wasn't unpleasant; if anything, it cleared her sinuses, but it was a very sharp, strange sensation.

"You're smelling the Mentha," Sarpanit said, changing the topic, to Tia's relief. "I added some to your drink last night; was it all right?"

"It was pleasant." Tia was careful not to sound too astonished by her statement. "Gwent food is not something I am used to, but it was fine."

"Glad to hear."

Beyond the garden, they approached a downward slope. The stone walls ended, giving way to a vast field that stretched as far as the eye could see. All the crops had been harvested, and all that stood were the little stubs of the yellow wheat.

Tia's ears tingled as the chilly wind blew by. Had she been clad in her Dernexan clothes, she would no doubt have found the weather unbearable; however, the thick, layered Gwentian clothing proved a surprisingly good insulation. She rubbed her ears, trying to warm them up.

To the right, the crops field ended where trees sprouted. The leaves had fallen as winter arrived and the sorry trees stood naked and forlorn. A steady trickle of men trailed from the depth of the woods, carrying logs across their shoulders and in their arms.

As they moved forward, Tia could make out the workers piling their timber into neat heaps on the larger cart. Another man standing atop the wooden transport would then pick them up and slip them into higher piles. Each worker would exchange brief pleasantries with him before resuming their work, whistling tunes or chuckling amongst themselves. They were all clad in dark overalls with straps slung over their shoulders and deep pockets, and the same high, thick boots made of hide Tia wore.

"Sarpanit!" called the man on top of the cart, waving at the two girls. Sarpanit waved back.

"How are you doing, Adad?" she shouted back, grinning from ear to ear. "Is Papa anywhere around?"

The man called Adad jerked his head over his shoulder as he accepted another armful of logs. With a grunt, he straightened up and piled them on his ever-growing collection of wood.

"Papa!"

One of the men deposited his lot and trudged over. He was dressed like the rest of the workers, but he wore a hat that covered his ears, no doubt to keep his ears warm in the chilly air.

Sarpanit was clearly this man's daughter. He had the same expressive eyes, although he looked older than his years and had grey streaks in his red-brown hair, like Namru the farmer back in Dernexes. Despite his age, he was well-built, with toned arms and a strong, stocky build. He hugged the excitable girl with one arm, smiling down at her in such a loving way that made Tia suddenly ache for Master Anu.

"I'm happy to see you are recovering well, and that Sarpanit is taking good care of you." It took a few seconds for Tia to realise the man was addressing her.

"Yes... yes, sir."

 "Forgive me." He stuck out a grubby hand with sincerity. "I'm Lahar. It's good to meet you at last, Windcaster."

Tia tucked her staff under one arm and took his hand slowly. "Tiamat."

"Pleased to meet you, Tiamat." He pumped her arm up and down in a similar way Sarpanit had the night before.  She withdrew her arm as soon as she could. "I have business to finish here, but once I'm done, will you come by the old quarters for an audience with me and my advisors?"

"Of-of course."

He nodded and squeezed his daughter again before returning to work.

It took a while before realisation dawned. Tia turned to her companion, her jaw dropped.

"He's King Lahar of Gwent?"