The wind howled outside, barely swaying the lanterns hanging within the closed bivouac. Soft light played off the glyphs woven into the tent walls, and the somber faces of the two meeting parties. Captain Tsharles, a rocky-jawed bear of a man with olive skin and wavy amber hair, sat on a footstool two steps away from the intricately-knitted wicker bench supporting Sheriff Amelia, the steward of Podritia's Pass. a strategically vital route through otherwise inaccessible mountains. The men in Tsharles' party, standing at his flank, exchanged uncertain glances with the women rangers, tasked with guarding the pass, waiting at Amelia's command. Tsharles and his men had traveled for days, and their journey was now at the mercy of Amelia's mood.
Amelia, the only woman not donning hunter's gear, pulled back the shimmering sleeve of her bright-blue gown as she traced her slender fingers along her straight black hair's taught braids. With a disarming smile, she gestured at the visiting party. "For the reputable Captain Tsharles to make his way to a backwater outpost like mine..." she batted her ice-blue eyes, "It must be a mission too important to divulge freely?"
Tsharles nodded respectfully. "As a precaution, my task is to be a guarded secret, but I give my word it is important and of no ill consequence to the guards of the Pass."
Skilfully revealing only an edge of the elaborate markings painted on her pale, freckled skin hidden beneath her gown, Amelia coyly cast down her eyes. "The platoon of Tsharles is said to be the strongest fighting force west of The Plain. Surely we couldn't stop you from forcing your way through the pass?"
Patient but annoyed, Tsharles tipped his head at his host. "I'll not insult you by explaining Myieaul custom like you don't know it perfectly well. The Gate, and all thresholds, are sacred. No true-hearted Myieaul would gain any sort of passage by force; we shall pass by your consent, or we shall not at all. Our mission is at your mercy."
Amelia unfolded an embroidered green fan, hiding a smile. "I cherish your honorable ways, but... there is the issue of rumors, coming from the Low Glen, about your encounter with my little sister Glenda? And you burning down her cabin?"
The men shifted around uneasily as Tsharles shook his head, scratching his jaw. "Glenda kidnapped one of my men and threatened to castrate him, because she thought it was funny. It was her joke, I just added my own punchline."
The wind's hum filled the tense silence. "Glenda has always been an idiot," Amelia said with a shrug, "And a disgrace to the Ephaemeryl. Still, family is family. What would it say about my family name if I just up and let you through Podritia's Pass?"
A ripple of despair passed over Tsharles' face. He lowered his eyes and spread his hands in supplication. "I completely understand, but we don't have much to trade and we'll need our supplies for The Pass."
Fanning herself, Amelia let out an airy laugh. "I'm not cruel, Tsharles... I won't demand what I know you can't pay. All I ask is a gesture, a token to appease my obligation to family."
Tsharles gulped, looking around uneasily at the smiles of the women behind Amelia. "...What sort of token?"
"Oh, I don't know... how about..." she crossed her legs, letting one of her dainty bare feet stick out into the lamplight, flashing a smug grin from behind her fan, "... you can beg my forgiveness. While licking my feet."
The hum of the warm, summer wind through the mountains filled the vacuous silence in the tent. Tsharles' shock-wide eyes contrasted with his stoic, haggard, bearded face. As a moment passed, one of the younger soldiers at Tsharles' side stepped up, stammering as he shook his fist indignantly at Amelia.
