The Kaelen Vashti settlement emerged from the mountain mist on the third day exactly as Farrow had promised—a cluster of sturdy wooden structures built into the natural contours of a sheltered valley, smoke rising from cooking fires, the particular ordinary rhythm of a community entirely unconcerned with imperial politics continuing its daily business despite the arrival of visitors from a world most of them likely encountered only through occasional trade.
"Weapons remain sheathed," Farrow instructed quietly, as we approached the settlement's outer perimeter, where several armed figures had already noted our approach with the watchful stillness of people accustomed to protecting their territory without unnecessary aggression. "Show respect, follow my lead on initial greeting, and remember that whatever authority you hold in the capital means considerably less here than genuine, demonstrated trustworthiness."
