NELNIFA CORLEDIA has a weak voice. When outrage sparks because of her mistake, she diverts the attention to the real problem: the truth to why their territory is poor. This takes Nelnifa to fishing ports, weaving districts, and back to the very plac...
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2404 Dalfa 24, Reshpe
The galor squirmed under Nelnifa's inexperienced hand. She clenched her jaw and tightened her hold. Morka wasn't kidding when she said galoris were expecting firmness from their owners. Knowing that, it's a miracle the overseer ever approved of Nelnifa driving the cart herself.
"It's to ward off the merchants' suspicions," Morka had said when Nelnifa asked her if it was a good idea. "It would certainly raise a question if both the driver and the ride changed."
Nelnifa had to give it to Morka. She hadn't even thought of that.
So, rising from bed earlier than ever, Nelnifa picked her way to Morka's shed. Today's schedule included walking all the way from the Zoriago-Orayta border since she had beaten the dagrine carts to it. As soon as she got into the overseer's shack, Morka had already loaded her cart to the brim with baskets.
Nelnifa remembered her stomach turning at the thought of these products being sold for way less once more. Then she shook her head to clear those thoughts. After today, she would have an answer as to why it was happening and what she could do to stop it. Hopefully, after today as well, she would find something worthy to divert the people's attention from the Imperial palace.
Now, the bumpy road carved around the low-level side of the mountain rumbled below Nelnifa. Sitting in the coach area where Morka once sat, she was grateful for the thick undergrowth shielding the pockets of scalding sunlight punching through the small gaps in between branches and leaves.
She pursed her lips, ultimately getting particles of sand into her tongue. She sputtered and wiped her hand against her mouth. The scarf securing her hair shifted with the motion, reminding her of the disguise she once adopted to find out the price of the baskets. The merchant's face was still imprinted in her memory, and if it's him again, she'd give him a good pummel when she could.
That thought made Nelnifa pause, her hands slackening around the reins. Only the galor's huff brought her attention back and grip the leather straps tighter to avoid letting the animal think it's got the freedom to do anything it wanted.
Still, she found it hard to believe she was even having these thoughts to begin with. A month ago, she wouldn't have dreamt of hitting a srilla against the wall if they ever dared to try and suck her blood. A month ago, she wouldn't have thought of approaching people out of the blue and initiating conversation. And certainly, a month ago, she wouldn't be able to look them in the eye and talk to them without her tongue twisting.
Ketha had been right in her assessment of Nelnifa. She had really changed. As such, she had always viewed Ketha as the never-observing kind as opposed to her detail-oriented nature. But now...how could she miss the changes happening to herself?
Nelnifa frowned, the corners of her lips feeling heavier than usual against her face. What drove her to change? Was it the people? The desire to clean up her mess? She didn't have the time to think about it further because the road sloped down and the familiar set of trees, bushes, and scenery from the beach crept into view. The galor seemed to have noticed it too as it began slowing its steps down, careful of not overturning the cart with Nelnifa in it.
