"Mister, are you from Skalvar?" The question comes from around the area of Inric's knees. He looks down to see a small child regarding him with solemn curiosity. "He's a sage from a distant land"" says Mathea from the other side of the cart. "Show some respect!" Inric waits until they are on their way out of the village where they'd spent the night to ask, "Skalvar?" "The island south-west of here. Where the raiders come from. It's an uncivilised place." Her voice drips with disdain. "But the Maesfell raider works for the Vras?" Inric queries. It might be important to know these things, and anyway, he's curious. "He turned mercenary, the scumbag," Mathea says, sounding angry. Then she turns, changing the subject. "You must have come from the east, then? Or did you just appear in the middle of the road two days ago?" And she laughs. It might be a joke, but it's entirely too close to the truth for Inric's peace of mind.