Two Rivers Isle Last night I smoked a cigarette

The man burst with an uproar of laughter. Goliad could see no reason for it and was at first, taken aback. His ears slanted and he became small, stiff, and with a straight-spine; resembling a cat about to swat a mouse, maybe. The moment eased as Ulrich explained, and that only further addled what Goliad understood of the situation - but he eased with his posture, and shook out his shoulders as he listened. Diffusing the tension there as best he could.

A bodyguard turned husband? So had he stolen the woman from someone? That was the logical way to go about things - that was how the Sandsea worked. Ulrich could have been serving someone stronger and keeping that person's prized women safe, only to take his pick of them when the fool had his back turned! What a smart man, if that were the case.

The more Ulrich explained, the less likely these things became.

Tragedy had struck; they had to escape - a feeling Goliad could understand and to some extent, commisserate with. His confusion lessened. He listened raptly and with some solemn expression upon his face until the end, intent to saving the best parts deep in his mind.

Then that is your story, he murmured.

You began as her protector, and when your shared world ended, you continued with that duty. And now you are here - both survivors. It is a good story. He nods, although his expression remains stoic.