PART I - PILGRIMAGE

"I must again recommend against this," the captain said. "It is not a safe endeavor, your Highnesses." She stopped, her face making a confused expression. "Highnesses? Is that right … the word seems wrong." Refocusing, she rephrased. "Dammit, this is not safe for any of you!"

King Regent Feldwin (the First) laughed as he put his hand on the captain's shoulder. "We go through this same argument every time, and every time I tell you the exact same thing. Nobody is going to recognize us, and we are in no more danger than any passing traveler. Stop worrying so much."

"It is my responsibility to worry, especially with you involving him this time." She gestured towards a young Elf boy, only ten, who was playing in a small creek, turning over rocks to see what he could find underneath.

"We also know that you'll probably have Sprites watching over us," King Regent Ruvan, pointed out, half his attention focused on watching his grandson squeal as something slithered out from where it had been disturbed. "We'll signal if we need your aid."

"He's too young for you to be dragging him along for this!"

"He's the perfect age," Feldwin said. "He's at the age where the lesson will mean the most."

The captain sighed. She knew it was a losing battle, but still she'd had to try. Ruvan was right, though, she had two Sprites that could watch from the skies or cloaked in invisibility. She also had a Duelist that could keep a quiet eye on things and could stay in the shadows if needed. They all knew better than to interfere, but the Sprites could alert someone in a moment, and the Duelist was able to react almost as fast, if it was needed.

"Vanis!" Ruvan called, startling the boy. "Come over here. We're leaving shortly."

Vanis stood and unceremoniously wiped his muddy hands on his pants. "Yes, grandfather," he mumbled reluctantly, still wanting to play in the mud a bit instead. He grabbed an exposed tree root and used it to pull himself up from the creekbed. Shuffling over, he took up a spot between his grandfather and great-grandfather, looking up at them expectantly.

"How do we look?" Feldwin asked the captain.

"Like three vagabonds who likely bring nothing but bad smells and trouble with them." She glanced down at the fresh stains on the prince's clothes. "The mud is a nice touch, though."

"Then we look perfect."

The captain groaned, this time louder. King Regent Feldwin was right, they had this same argument about every six months, whenever he and his son, King Regent Ruvan, felt it was time to secretly go and mingle with the common folk. They called it a 'pilgrimage'; a way for them to learn the troubles of their subjects that might never filter up to them directly. As for the captain? She just called it a royal pain in the …

"What is the name of the village, again?" Ruvan asked.

"Um …" the captain began, realizing she was unsure herself. She looked up at the high-private driving the carriage. He'd been through the area before, scouted it out a bit, and had recommended it to the Regents.

"Wixwind, sire," came the call back. "An Elf village, with a few families of Tigerkins. About one-hundred twenty people total, maybe a few less. Three taverns, including one with an inn, at least the last time I went through. This isn't a heavily-used caravan route, so not a lot of people coming and going. No real exports, save extra herbs or mushrooms they may grow or collect from the forest, or surplus fish from the river, but they are also self-sufficient. Good people. Simple people." By simple, he basically meant 'poor', at least from a wealth standpoint. These were the kind of people that were overlooked or forgotten about by those with means, and exactly the people that the Regents wanted to talk to socially and in disguise.

"See, you worry too much," Feldwin said, placing his hand on the captain's shoulder again. "We'll see you on the other side tomorrow, ten kilometers out."

Inwardly, the captain growled again on simple principle. She was supposed to keep them safe, and she couldn't do that if she wasn't with them. They'd actually tried that once, but her Imperial Guard demeanor apparently gave the secret away in less than an hour. Feldwin had said it was something about her being too 'stiff' as a bodyguard, whatever that meant. Looking down, she bent slightly and addressed the young Vanis. "Listen, little majesty, remember what we talked about. You can't tell anyone who you are or you could be in danger. You mind your grandfather and great-grandfather. Be polite in all things and call for help if something bad happens. Do you understand?"

Vanis looked up at the two Regents, and then back to the captain. "I understand," he confirmed with a nod.

"Good." She looked up as Ruvan extended his hand. She didn't take it, instead bowing her head and touching her fist lightly to her chest. Clasping wrists was too informal, dammit, even if they were in disguise. "Be safe, all of you." She honestly shouldn't be worried. Feldwin was a Wizard, and a pretty good one, while Ruvan was a Scholar, but with some combat training. They could handle anything that might happen, at least for long enough that help could arrive. She still didn't have to like it, though.

The three set out, the grandson flanked by the elders on either side. They had a bit of a hike ahead of them, about ten kilometers or so to the valley that held Wixwind, but the day was lovely. It was warm, but not hot, and the sky overhead was blue with the streaks of green that accompanied Ohler being high, full of fluffy clouds, but with no imminent sign of rain. It was a good day and Ruvan began to whistle a light tune.

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"We haven't been walking for more than five minutes and you're already starting with that?" Feldwin growled. Ruvan put his hand to his chest, feigning offense.

"Well, I like it," Vanis said, grinning up at the elder Regent.

Feldwin just groaned. "Stop encouraging him."

Still, Ruvan stowed the music, instead addressing the little prince with his teaching voice. "So, tell me again why we do this. Why is this important?"

"We're supposed to learn things," Vanis replied automatically.

"True, but we could just as easily have other people learn things and then tell us, correct? Or just ask people. Why are we here and in disguise?"

Vanis frowned. They'd told him, and he remembered the reason, but something wasn't making sense. "You told me it's because people won't tell us things if they know who we are. Why wouldn't they? We are trying to help, aren't we?"

"That is true," Feldwin said, "but sometimes people don't want to share their problems with others, or don't wish to burden someone with them. When it comes to us, this happens even more often, especially if they are unhappy with something your father, or the Parliament have done, or didn't do. They don't want to get in trouble for complaining to us, so instead they only tell each other."

The young Elf didn't really get it, and after a moment, he said so.

"Tell me," Ruvan said, "if you did something you weren't supposed to, for example, going off into the woods alone, without someone to escort you, would you be willing to tell your friends about your adventure?"

After a moment, Vanis spoke hesitantly. "Maybe? If I could trust them not to tell someone."

"Would you tell your mother?"

"No way! She'd be mad!" Vanis knew this for a fact, because he'd done exactly that, and been caught, about six months previous. His mother, the Queen, had been quite angry, and made sure he promised he would never do something so foolish again, and then made sure his father knew about it as well.

"Exactly!" Ruvan said. "It's just like that. If people knew we were the King Regents, they wouldn't be willing to tell us, because they worry we might get mad." Okay, it wasn't the best analogy, and King Regent Ruvan was dumbing it down quite a bit. Vanis was bright for being ten, but social power dynamics was probably a bit much to take in at his age.

Feldwin ruffled the boy's hair. "Mostly, just remember you can't tell people who we are, and that we are here to listen. That's the most-critical! We … are here … to listen!" He pointed to his ears to emphasize the point. "Then, when we return to Imor, we will review what we have learned and, if needed, do something about it. So, again, listen more and talk less."

They continued on, setting a steady pace. Not brisk, on the account of Vanis. Besides his shorter legs, the young Prince had been a bit chubby until recent, so he wasn't very used to distance walking. Luckily, now with puberty not far off, and with a coinciding rapid growth spurt, he had started to build muscle and lose weight. For added help, one of the Imperial Guard sergeants had been working to ease him into some physical conditioning and the habits that went with that. Still, the slower pace meant it would likely be a little over three hours before they would arrive. They really weren't in a hurry though, as even that pace would get them there in the late afternoon. That would be plenty of time to get a room at the inn and then spend the evening socializing with whoever was around.

Eventually, Ruvan began whistling again, at first without even realizing it. But after a few swearing growls from his father, kept it up for a while just to irritate him. Even the young prince joined in, his whistling being quite good.

"I should call fire down on both of you," Feldwin eventually snapped, threateningly holding up a dimly glowing hand.

The only event of note that occurred as they walked to Wixwind was a korrox-pulled wagon that passed by, heading in the opposite direction. While Ruvan and Vanis waited, Feldwin engaged the driver in some idle conversation for a few minutes, not really talking about anything in particular. The impromptu chat soon broke up and everyone continued on their way, the wagon disappearing around the bend behind them.

"What did you learn?" Ruvan asked.

"He's from the village, charged with bringing what they can sell to Imor, and coming back with the few things that those earnings are able to afford. Not a merchant, just acting as transport and broker on the behalf of others for a small fee."

"Herbs and river fish? Doesn't sound like very lucrative exports."

"That's what struck me as interesting, Ruvan. He used to travel largely with various fresh and dried herbs, some dressed game meat from the surrounding forests, and fish. Apparently the river is teeming with fish, or at least it used to be. The catches of late have become noticeably diminished, both in the number and the size of the fish, and they no longer have a surplus to send off. No one can account for anything amiss."

The younger Regent frowned. "It could be nothing, or it could be something."

"They could have just run out of fish," Vanis suggested, trying to be helpful.

Feldwin glanced down. "You're right, they might just be out of fish. We'll investigate, though. This is why we listen, Vanis. If he'd known who I am, he very likely wouldn't have told me."

"Why? Because he might get in trouble?"

"Not exactly, but he still likely wouldn't have said anything." Feldwin could see on Vanis's face he still wasn't fully understanding. That was okay, he'd learn eventually.

Soon they arrived at the top of a hill. Below them, in a comfortable, secluded valley lay the village of Wixwind. Through its center wound the river, sparkling in the afternoon sun. All seemed quiet and welcoming, just as one would expect.

A pair of switchbacks led them down the hill, ending on a well-worn dirt road that paralleled the river's shore. The river was big, at least seventy meters wide, but didn't appear to be terribly deep or very fast moving. In fact, a few children could be heard splashing not far off, an adult yelling out to warn someone to stop trying to drown his sister.

"Good river," Feldwin commented. "I can see why fishing is a big part of their livelihood." He looked at Ruvan. "Simple overfishing, maybe? Or annual migrations?"

"If it was a common migration, it wouldn't seem out of the ordinary. We need to know more." Feldwin frowned, a worried look in his eyes. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Maybe we could go talk to him," Vanis suggested, pointing. To the left and ahead, sitting on the river's bank, sat a Tigerkin, one of the white variety, with a fishing pole. They watched for a moment as the fisher threw out a long line with a float on the end, allowing the river to slowly carry it downstream. Then he wheeled in the long string and cast upstream again.

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