You feel bittersweet as the farmer’s cart you are riding on rolls into the city. Your staff is clutched in one hand, and your bundle of possessions in the other; you travel light, but your heart feels like a stone in your chest as you smile at the farmer, thank him, and offer him a gold coin for his trouble.
“Don’t you worry about that.” he waves you off, “It wasn’t out of my way, and I prefer having company, even if it doesn’t choose to speak.”
You duck your head, thank him again, and begin wal...