“That’s what Afiele grows. Ashwheat, Veil Tomatos, Night Cabbage, and so on. We grow Ashwheat here, mostly. Most people work the fields or raise animals or such. My father makes tools for everyone in Landsmecht.”

“I see. So this is Landsmecht…what do you do, Violetta?”

She puffed her chest out, proudly.

“I work in the fields. Most people do, except for the [Blacksmith], [Shepherds], the [Hunter], Mister Rethis, our [Seamstress], old Miss Uriche…”

Cara realized Violetta was naming every exception to the farming community. And that was the entire village. No, really. Cara had assumed Violetta was leaving out some nuance of the village—but it really was a clone of some ye olde village from the dark ages. They farmed, traded for goods, manufactured a lot, but it really was a bunch of houses plopped down around fertile land.

It was Violetta’s world, though, and while her father seemed to have travelled, she began eagerly telling Cara about Afiele’s real center of entertainment, the town of Adreissel.

“There’s a market in town. And the Mage’s Guild, although we only have one real [Mage]. Lord Lantal lives there, in the keep. The other villagers go to town when we need something or to send word about the undead, or crimes.”

“And Lord Lantal is your…landowner? Sorry, I’m not familiar with how it works.”

Violetta looked startled. Idelt just seemed to assume that made sense from someone from Izril.

“We pay taxes and tithes to the keep each month and it’s paid to the capital. It’s not complicated. Lord Lantal protects the lands, rules on crime, and so on.”

Total medieval feudalism, right there. Cara nodded slowly, electing to chew on more of that savory bread rather than make an argument against this kind of system. Violetta was more keen to ask Cara where she was from, anyways. She leaned over, pointing at the bread.

“About what you said, Miss Cara. So bread is brown where you come from? And the wheat—is it really yellow? Father said it was, and I thought he was joking!”

Cara shot a quick glance at Idelt. The man seemed as likely to tell a joke as one of the bricks on the fireplace. She shook her head.

“No…it’s actually golden. Green when it’s growing. And, uh—our bread is brown. White on the inside.

It’s rather amazing to see the—the difference in Afiele. Worth the trip.”

The bread really was good. Cara ended up stuffing herself with as much bread as soup.

Both father and daughter seemed more interested in the meat, despite it coming from a zombified rabbit. And Violetta was very interested in Cara.

“So the sky is blue in Izril? Truly?”

“That’s right. Blue as can be. Turns orange in sunset, pink or reddish as well. Dawn too. The trees have green leaves—”