We approached openly. I thought this was best; that way we wouldn’t startle them.

  The men looked up sharply when we were still several meters away. Upon seeing us, both immediately stood, removing their hats and bowing their heads slightly.

  “Greetings, noble travelers,” the older one called, his tone respectful and cautious. “Forgive our humble camp. Had we known that distinguished visitors would grace our shore today…”

  I blinked in surprise at their deference. Even if our appearance was bedraggled, the quality of our clothing was far above that of the fishermen. Perhaps they took us for higher-class individuals, especially given the quality of the knife at my belt.

  Part of me wanted to dissuade them of this notion, but I realized it might not be a bad thing.

  In fact, it could be quite useful.

  I stepped forward carefully. “I am Dragomir, and this is Petya. We are…travelers. We’ve lost our way and could use your help.”

  The fishermen kept their heads slightly bowed, hands clasped before them.

  “How may we serve, Highborn?” the younger one asked, eyes darting between my torn dress pants and Petya’s office attire with curiosity but careful not to stare too long.

  “We’re not from here,” Petya said carefully. “We need help finding our way to civilization. Also, you need not—”

  I shot her a warning look not to reveal anything. Thankfully, she complied.

  The older fisherman scratched his salt-and-pepper beard, still maintaining a deferential posture. “If it pleases the Highborns, might you be shipwrecked? We saw that old wreck up the coast. I thought it was abandoned years ago.”

  “Something like that,” I agreed, not wanting to complicate matters with the truth. “Can you help us?”

  The men conferred briefly in hushed tones before the older one nodded.

  “Karadesh is where we hail from, Highborn,” he said, gesturing vaguely across the water. “We would be honored to provide passage with the day’s catch if that would be acceptable to ones such as yourselves.”

  Relief washed through me. At this point, the thought of the smell of fish infecting my clothing wasn’t a concern. “Thank you. We would be very grateful, whatever the means.”

  The fishermen invited us to sit by the fire, bowing and gesturing to the cleanest spots on the logs they had arranged as seats. The younger one handed us each a small piece of some kind of flatbread, offering it with both hands as if presenting a gift. He also fetched some water for us. I worried it might be contaminated somehow, at least to my sensibilities, but it wasn’t as if I had other choices. I drank gratefully.

  Petya asked for her glass bottle to be refilled. The younger one’s eyes widened, likely at the quality of the glass, which might be out of reach for one such as him in this world. He poured water, careful not to touch it.

  “You never told us your names,” I said.

  The older fisherman’s eyes widened at this; perhaps it was inconceivable that a “highborn” would be interested in that.

  “I be Tomas, at your service,” the older man said, touching his chest. “This here’s my son, Davi.”

  Davi bowed again, his eyes still lingering curiously on Petya’s fine watch and my belt buckle before darting away. If these items were signs of wealth, it could be why they mistook us for nobility. For Tomas’s part, he noted my dagger and my leather bag.

  Or rather, Petya’s leather bag. The damn thing was useful; sturdy. Perhaps in this world, it wasn’t frowned upon for men to carry such things.

  I had to admit, I couldn’t help but enjoy their deference. In Bulgaria, I had been nothing—a failed academic reduced to cold-calling strangers with a pitch that was only slightly above a scam.

  Here, these men looked at me with respect. With reverence, even.

  “Thank you for your kindness,” I said. “We’ve had…a difficult journey.”

  “The sea takes what it wants. Gives back sometimes, if you’re fortunate,” Tomas said, his tone more natural now. “We’ll be casting off soon, once we’ve packed the catch, if that suits you.”

  “It suits us fine,” I said.

  The boat itself was simple but well-crafted—perhaps eight to ten meters long with a single mast and triangular sail currently furled. The hull was wooden, painted a faded blue at the waterline with intricate patterns carved into the bow. Various baskets and nets were secured along the gunwales, and the day’s catch—mostly silver-scaled fish—lay in woven baskets.

  It looked precarious to my inexperienced eye, but it was our only option.

  As the fishermen gathered their belongings, Petya leaned close to me and spoke in Bulgarian. “Are we really getting on that thing?”

  “Unless you want to keep walking,” I replied quietly.

  She sighed. “I suppose we don’t have a choice. But I can’t help but think we’re getting farther from that portal.”

  “We are,” I admitted. “But I still think we need to learn more about this place before we can find our way home.”

  Petya remained silent at that. I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced, but she had little choice but to follow my lead.

  A part of me was wondering if she even believed me about the dragon. Even she had mentioned the bones in that cave, so she had to know it was dangerous. At some point, I’d have to deal with Petya’s impulses more thoroughly, but for now, I had other ideas.

  Soon we were pushing off from shore, Tomas at the rudder while Davi hoisted the sail. The triangular canvas caught the wind, bellying out with a satisfying snap, and the little vessel began to cut through the waves. The sea breeze was actually quite nice. It was no holiday in Mykonos, but I would take it.

  Petya and I sat carefully amidships, trying to stay out of the way. I had no experience with boats, and I noticed that the gentle rocking made her look faintly ill. Again, I would have to be her anchor. A role I was more than willing to fill.

  As we settled into the journey, a thought occurred to me. I turned to Tomas.

  “What do you know about class cores?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  Both fishermen laughed, then quickly composed themselves, looking embarrassed by their outburst.

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  “Forgive me, my lord,” Tomas said. “Simple folk like us know little about such matters.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Davi glanced at his father before answering cautiously. “If I may speak freely, my lord… common folk like us can’t afford such things. We believed you might be Highborns, maybe from Delonia or Aranthia, judging by your height and fair skin. They sometimes come to Karadesh, though I’ve never seen one in person.” At my silence, he cleared his throat. “I beg your grace, my lord.”

  “Think nothing of it,” I said, my mind racing with the implications. Class cores were purchasable? Commodities that only the wealthy could afford? This was valuable information.

  “So you don’t have a class?” Petya asked, joining the conversation.

  Tomas shook his head, his earlier formality beginning to fade. “Most don’t, my lady. We’re just fishermen. No fancy powers or attributes. Perhaps it is different in your country. But those with classes are said to be blessed by the Holy One himself.”

  I almost asked what that meant, but I realized it must be some religious deity, and not knowing that might compromise our cover. Something to research later.

  “Where could we learn more about class cores?” I asked. “We are studying to see if they differ from land to land.”

  “Such things are beyond me,” Tomas said, “but you might seek out the Grand Athenaeum.” He gestured vaguely toward the direction we were heading. “Biggest collection of knowledge on this side of the world. Right on the waterfront of Karadesh. If you truly seek wisdom about cores, that’s where the Scholars be.”

  With each exchange, the fishermen’s initial deference was gradually replaced by more natural conversation. I didn’t see the harm in it; looser tongues meant more information. In the end, I suspected they had finally realized we weren’t nobility, but perhaps wealthy merchants or academics. Above them in station, but not so much as to bow and scrape at every turn.

  I nodded thoughtfully, then tried my other question. “We saw something else that concerned us. A dragon, in a cave about twenty miles up the shore from where you found us. Would you know anything about that?”

  The atmosphere on the boat changed instantly. Davi nearly dropped the rope he was coiling, and Tomas’s weathered face paled beneath his tan.

  “A dragon? So close to the city?” The older man’s voice was hushed and fearful. “Are you certain, sir?”

  “Red scales, the size of a bus.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, about the size of several large wagons hitched together. Sleeping in a cave on the cliff.”

  The fishermen exchanged alarmed glances.

  “The Eyes must be told,” Tomas said urgently. “Dragons haven’t been seen in these parts for generations.”

  “The Eyes?” Petya asked.

  “The watchmen of Karadesh,” Tomas explained, still visibly disturbed by the news. “Dragons are ill omens. Death and fire follow where they nest.”

  “If you’re sure,” Davi said, “then you might sell the knowledge to the local Adventurers’ Guild. Dragons have bounties if you can prove that you slew one.” His eyes got big. “And more than that, they're known for their treasure.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Treasure, you say? I noticed no such thing.”

  “If there’s treasure, it wouldn’t be near the mouth of the cave,” Tomas explained. “Such a thing would be deeper, no?” He chuckled. “It’s suicide, though. A distant dream. You would need a large party of classed adventurers to even have a hope of taking it down. And even then, such a battle can only be won by spilling blood.”

  I swallowed. Perhaps the play was selling the knowledge to those who might have the tools or resources to take it down. Such a thing would have to be done carefully, if at all. It was a significant risk to involve other parties who could end up cheating you.

  “Perhaps we were mistaken,” Petya said. She likely thought we didn’t need extra attention, and she was probably right. “We lacked water for a while. Perhaps Dragomir was seeing things.”

  I kept silent; we had gained crucial information, so there was no need to overplay our hand. Petya was right to reel back what I saw.

  Tomas shook his head. “Strange days, indeed.”

  We fell into an uneasy silence as we continued our journey. Eventually, Tomas turned the rudder, guiding us around the rocky promontory. As we cleared the headland, the view opened up before us, and both Petya and I gasped.

  Spread across a vast natural harbor lay a city straight out of Arabian Nights. Massive sandstone walls, the color of honey in the setting sun, curved along the waterfront. Behind them rose a forest of domes, minarets, and towers, their upper reaches adorned with gilded spires that caught the light. The architecture had a distinctly Middle Eastern flavor—horseshoe arches, intricate latticework, and geometric patterns visible even at this distance.

  The harbor itself teemed with activity. Dozens of ships of various sizes plied the waters—from small fishing vessels like our own to massive trading galleys with multiple masts and billowing sails. At the center of the harbor, a small island fortress commanded the approach, its walls rising sheer from the water.

  “Karadesh,” Tomas announced with pride. “Jewel of the Southern Sea.”

  “It’s…” I couldn’t find the words. After spending a day believing we might be alone in this world, the sight of such a massive center of civilization was overwhelming.

  “It’s incredible,” Petya finished for me, her voice hushed with awe.

  Davi grinned at our reactions. “First time in the capital?”

  I nodded numbly. “Yes. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Biggest port for thousands of miles,” Tomas said, his earlier formality completely gone now. “Trade flows here from all corners of Eyrth.”

  As we drew closer, the details of the city emerged more clearly. Massive bronze statues flanked the harbor entrance—warriors with spears raised high. The fortified island in the center of the harbor was connected to the mainland by a single stone bridge crowded with people. Most impressively, a towering lighthouse dominated the western edge of the harbor, a massive crystal array at its pinnacle catching the last rays of the sun in dazzling rainbow fragments.

  The boat slid smoothly between larger vessels, Tomas expertly guiding us toward what appeared to be a fishing district—a section of smaller docks crowded with boats similar to our own.

  “Where exactly are you folks headed?” Tomas asked as we approached the pier, now speaking to us as equals rather than as nobility.

  Petya and I exchanged a glance.

  “We don’t exactly know,” I admitted. “We need to find work. And lodging.”

  And a plan, but I kept that part to myself.

  Tomas raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Market district be your best bet. Can find most anything there—work, beds, whatever you need.”

  “Thank you for the advice.”

  As the boat bumped gently against the pier, Davi leaped out with a rope to secure it. I helped Petya onto the dock, then turned to the fishermen.

  “How can we repay you?” Petya asked.

  I pushed down my annoyance. We were likely to never see these two again, and we needed to keep all our resources for ourselves.

  But making a small offer might do much to get back in her good graces. I’d appropriated her purse, after all, a bold move, even for me.

  I nodded toward my belt, where I’d tied on the copper pots with a spare bit of rope. “I picked up a couple of copper pots back in the wreckage. Both are in good shape. You’re welcome to one of them.”

  Davi’s eyes went to my waist, where the outline of the small pouch with the magical gems could be seen, but they quickly darted away again, his bronzed cheeks coloring slightly.

  Like hell he was getting those!

  Tomas waved a dismissive hand. “No payment needed. Sea folk help each other.” He cracked a slight smile. “Though you two don’t much look like sea folk.”

  “We’re very grateful,” Petya said quickly. She reached into the purse I held, taking out the small hand mirror. “It’s not much, but…”

  Tomas noted the mirror and looked horrified to be offered it. “We cannot accept such a thing from you, my lady. Please, helping is payment enough.”

  “If you’re certain,” I said, hoping that would be the last of this annoying little ritual.

  Tomas gave us directions to the market district. “If you’re looking for a good place to stay, check out the Copper Lantern. The rates are fair, and Marda, the owner, sometimes hires help. Make yourself useful, and she’ll be a good person to know. Tell her I sent you.”

  “Market district’s that way,” Davi said, pointing toward a wide thoroughfare leading away from the harbor. “Follow the Street of Salt until you reach the big fountain, then head west. Can’t miss The Copper Lantern—got a big sign with a, well, copper lantern.”

  “We won’t forget your kindness,” Petya said.

  “Farewell,” Tomas said. “May the Holy One guide your steps.”

  They were already turning their attention to selling their day’s catch to a waiting merchant with scales and a ledger.

  As we headed toward the busy harbor, Petya stuck close, her eyes wide as she took in the sprawling city before us. Perhaps her realization of just where she was and her dire situation would remind her not to cross me. “What now?”

  I took a deep breath. “Now we learn as much as we can about this place.” I met her gaze. “There’s a way home, Petya. There has to be. Just stick with me. This place might be strange, but people are the same everywhere.”

  Though as I spoke those words, I wondered if I truly wanted to return to my old life. Here, in this new world, with its magic and mysteries, I could sense possibilities that had never existed for me before.

  “What about this inn?” Petya said. “It’s getting late.”

  “We should head there,” I said. “No question.”

  The sun slipped below the buildings. As darkness fell, enchanted street lanterns flickered to life throughout the city—thousands of points of light illuminating the world we now had to navigate.

  Together, we stepped away from the pier and into Karadesh.

  And I discovered that, perhaps, men weren’t the same everywhere.