Ad aspera

I wish I could just curl up for an afternoon nap and sleep until the time when normal people go to their nightly rest.

Traveling overland from the south.

The plains and plateaus of southern Fenderrin—an unromantic landscape stretching from Tirren to the Turan border and beyond—hardly gain any charm in early spring. A flat carpet of dry last year's grass stretches steadily to the horizon and merges with it; Reginald could have completely lost track of distance and time watching such monotony, punctuated occasionally by villages near the highway with inhabitants as monotonous as the world surrounding them, were it not for the occasional signpost. The local villans are neither poor nor wealthy; seeing a man in arms, they bow out of habit and return to their peasant routine.
Tirren is still three or four hours away, and the lazy sun refuses to leave its cloudy veil, but it is easy to tell that noon is still far off. Now, in the warrior's path, appears the eternal friend of the wanderer—a roadside tavern, a small two-story building of a very tidy appearance. Smoke billows from the chimney, evoking thoughts of roasted meat and good beer...

The sea voyage from the islands to Turan was difficult for the overseas traveler, but fortunately, without any major adventures. She was unable to rest on land for long, and soon her feet were once again on the surface of a boat. Finances were limited, and therefore wasting time was unacceptable.
up the river from the south

Having paid one of the Turanian merchants for a spot on the vessel, Shinomiya traveled hundreds of kilometers deep into the continent without incident—luckily, the ship's owner was the type to keep his mouth shut, his hands to himself, and his crew under a tight rein. On this day, he spoke to her for the first time since she had stepped on board.
— We've arrived. — the merchant didn't even bother to enter the cabin and spoke through the door. — Get ready.
While the Tirren guards, along with local trade officials, rummaged through the holds and explained something to the owner, Shinomiya was already able to form her first impression of Tirren. The Tirren docks are a dirty, bustling place, as is typical for ports; merchants argue, laborers scurry back and forth, and sailors stroll about. And yet, compared to what she had seen in Turan, there are far fewer people and more order.
Shinomiya does not need to undergo the bureaucratic tortures that merchants and foreign officials must face, but the captain apparently did not bother to mention her status on the ship, and the eyes of most guards are now fixed on the woman standing alone on the deck in strange attire, and, even stranger—with a bow and a quiver.

- May the All-Father bless you! - Unus greeted the men with a kind smile. - Evidently, you are representatives of the local law enforcement. Well, if I must come along, then so be it.
Unus calmly follows the guards.

— You're coming too... — a guard muttered quietly in response to the blessing.
Handing over the post to their comrades, the law enforcement officers led the paladin to the city guard residence. Before entering the chief's office, these two grew stern and straightened up so much that, even if one wanted to, they could no longer be recognized as the half-asleep guards of the eastern gates.
— Sir! While... — the junior guard stuttered slightly, but continued more boldly. — While keeping watch at the eastern gates, a foreigner from Ardor was detained. Armed. Likely from the order of paladins. Brought before you.
The captain of the guard, sitting at the desk, stared at those who entered with an unblinking gaze, waited another second, and said quietly:
— Well?..
— Um...
— Name! Exact occupation! Purpose of arrival! You should have found that out yourself immediately, you damned cretin, not waste my time with such blather! When you devils learn how to...
— Sir, forgive me. Sir, it will not happen again.
— Ask your father for forgiveness for growing up to be a useless idiot. You'll both rot in the patrols... Out. Get out of here!
The guards flew out the door like arrows. The captain sighed, wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead, and stared at Unus with the same dead, unblinking gaze. The captain was apparently not young, but his empty gaze and the slouch of his posture at the desk made him look like a complete old man. He frequently shrugged his shoulders, as if the armor were a great inconvenience even now.
— Roberto Neri. Captain of the Tirren city guard. — he speaks slowly and quietly, but in a very imposing tone and short, clipped phrases. — Come closer. Name. Surname.