5 Meeting at a copse

Vardimann woke with a head of hair icicles. Haircicles. He'd fallen asleep facing the fire, so his hair hadn't had a chance to dry out properly. He tried to shake them off but got nothing more than a musical tinkle.

"Ahh, never mind." Vardimann got dressed. He really should stop sleeping naked near human habitation.

The road went north-east, away from the lake. It was broad and littered with hoof and wheel prints, obviously well travelled. Vardimann passed a few peddlers on the way, all headed in the opposite direction. Apparently, a village full of salted fish is the best place to wait out the winter. He hoped they wouldn't delay the doctor for long.

The sun was at its highest in the sky when Vardimann came across a group of trees. Insects buzzed among the red leaf litter. The road split into two, one continuing north-east and the other heading straight east. A signpost stood at the junction. The sign in the middle said "You are in the middle".

Vardimann decided to wait there for the doctor to show up. This was the only road out of Swan village, so they should meet soon. Besides, it was nice to take a break every once in a while, instead of constantly moving around.

Bored, Vardimann found a fallen tree branch. Using his knife, he cut off the bark and the rotten bits, and then started carving.

Around noon, Lukin Whitlow tugged the reins to stop the cart. The man in front of the ponies stretched his legs across the path, blocking the way. Strangely enough, he wasn't wearing much in this cold, just a cotton shirt and leather vest and pants. His lap was covered with wood shavings, and he was fiddling with a bone knife.

Lukin cleared his throat. "Excuse me, you're blocking the way." For some reason, the man seemed a bit familiar.

The man looked up. "Hey Whitlow! Wherever you're going, can I come with?"

Whitlow blinked. "Oh... you're the guy with the strange name. Variman..."

"Vardimann Yeylin. But you can just call me Vardimann or Vardi." Vardimann climbed onto the wagon uninvited. "It's boring to travel alone, and I'll help out. So, can I come with?"

"You're already on the wagon." Whitlow pondered for a bit. In all honesty, he could do with an assistant. From their conversation a few days ago, he'd found Vardimann to be funny and intelligent. He just seemed to lack some social niceties. Such as poking around somebody's wagon without permission.

"Vardimann. Vardi."

"Yeah?"

"It's rude to get on someone's wagon without asking first."

Vardimann suddenly looked guilty. "Sorry, I didn't know" In response to Whitlow's confusion, he said "Where I grew up, there wasn't really any sense of ownership, whether it was clothes, toys, or tools. Saying "please" feels strange. Oh, but I was taught a bit by an outsider, so at least I know what stealing is and not to do it."

Whitlow shook his head. "You must have come from somewhere quite far away."

"Eh, I don't know if it can be counted as very far. I've only been travelling since the late spring, summer. It's more that my hometown is rather isolated."

"I see." The doctor flicked the reins, and the ponies started walking down the east track. "All right, you can be my assistant for now. But I can't pay you. If you can't help me out properly I won't put you up for the winter."

"That's fine, I don't need any money. As to whether or not I'd be useful, at the very least I know to stitch up wounds with a thread and needle. Which seems to be more than the average person."

Whitlow made a sound of agreement. "It's hard to educate folks in the country, where teachers are reluctant to go." He sighed. "All I can do is travel around each year and hope that they remember my methods."

They were silent for a bit. Hoping to change the melancholy mood, Vardimann asked the first thing he could think of. "Why did the signpost say "you are in the middle"?"

Whitlow expected a gag about the sign being in the middle of the junction. "Why?"

Vardimann blinked. "You don't know either? I thought since you passed by every year, you would know."

The doctor frowned. "I can't tell if you're serious or pulling my leg."

"I'm serious, I really don't know."

"Huh." Whitlow handed over the reins. "Hold onto these for a bit." He rummaged behind the seat and brought out a rolled-up piece of paper.

"This is a map of the kingdom we're in. The north state is called the "Top". The south section is the "Bottom", west is "Left" and east is "Right". The bit in the middle is "Middle.""

Vardimann traded the reins for the map with a strange look on his face. "Sounds like someone was really lazy when naming this place. Don't tell me, this kingdom is called "Kingdom?""

The other man laughed. "No, it's not. I think the states were named that way so that people would know which area they were in. Where one lives is linked to one's status and the rules they abide by." He pointed at a coastal city on the left side of the map. "This is where the royal family lives. The entirety of Left is considered Royal land, so without permission from the royal family you can't hunt or chop wood there. Even travellers aren't allowed to chop off a branch for firewood. This was to discourage any poor people from overcrowding the capital just to get a look at royalty. If a person can't afford enough supplies to make the trip, then it isn't worth going."

Vardimann hummed. "So if you don't have the money, you don't deserve to see your king."

"I suppose you could put it that way."

He studied the map. The southern border of the kingdom was marked with thick double lines. Next to the Right state and part of the Middle state, a large irregular circle denoted a forest. There was a mountain range to the north, with pictures of yeti and snowmen.

In fact, the entire map was covered with strange and fantastical creatures.

"What about the other areas?" Vardimann poked a fox with a fiery tail.

"The Top, Middle and Bottom states are owned by multiple barons. The Right is undeveloped land. Some of the poorer baron's sons went there to claim land, but they don't have very good control over the area. There are a lot of people hiding out there to avoid taxes or criminal charges."

"I see." In the past, the only maps he had seen were scratches on the ground, but it was enough to help him understand the one in his hands. Small carriages and fish determined the roads and rivers. At the very bottom of the map was a stylised scroll with the words "SARDON KINGDOM"

Too quietly for Whitlow to hear, Vardimann muttered the name. "Sardon. I guess I'm a Sardonian. Sardoner? How should he pronounce the name?" He shrugged and continued studying the map. The illustrations made the map more interesting than it would have been otherwise.