“T here it is,” said Alyssa, hopping down from the wagon. “Angelport.”

Haern followed, and as the rest of the travelers set up camp, he looked out over the city. It was smaller than Veldaren, but not by much. Three walls formed concentric circles enveloping the city, all of them stretching out into the water. A sprawling port lined the far side, and in the light of the setting sun the boats shifted about like ants. Guessing at least a hundred, Haern was stunned by the sight. He’d never seen a single ship before, so to find so many coming into port or sailing out for the far reaches of Dezrel, impressed him greatly.

“Why do we camp here?” Haern asked. “The city is not far.”

“Because I want to make sure you know your part in this charade,” Alyssa said, looking him over, then sighing. “Gods help me, you couldn’t appear more uncomfortable if you tried.”

Haern rolled his eyes and then went to help the others unpack. They’d kept a small supply of kindling and firewood, replenishing it as needed during their journey. Once their bonfire was roaring, and tents set up for those who would not sleep in the wagons, the servants began cooking their meal. One continued on the path, sent to receive word on the state of the city.

All the while, Alyssa drilled Haern on customs.

“Deepen your bow depending on their station relative to you,” Alyssa said, smoothing out his silk shirt. “Since you’ll be a distant relative of mine, that means nearly every member of nobility and the Trifect is significantly higher than you. If in doubt, bow low and avert your eyes for only a brief moment. Just make sure you don’t ever tip your head to a commoner. Kind words in greeting are fine, but don’t overdo it.”

“I’d rather stick to killing people,” Haern said. “Can I do that instead?”

She gave him a look he’d seen many times on their journey. The first had been when she realized he had packed a single set of clothes to wear for months at a time, his dark gray shirt and pants coupled with his cloaks. Wishing he’d heeded Delysia’s advice, he found himself inheriting a wide assortment of outfits from Alyssa. They were poofy, silken, and more expensive than anything he’d ever owned in his life. And they itched.