Kre was thankful that Kitalia didn’t give him the usual withering glare when he was being obstinate. Instead, the look she gave him was more sympathetic, almost pitying. “I know this is new and strange to you. Rest assured, it is to me as well. We Ylveryans do not live lives so extraordinarily different than your own.
“We know what your people believe about us, and so much of it is just astoundingly stupid and wrong. We do not change our shapes into wild animals at will. We do not sacrifice Ylveryan children, or any children, to the three moons. We do not live ten times the lifetime that your people do. We do not dance with faeries under the new moon’s dark light.” She wagged a finger in Kre’s face, “and we do not knowingly consort with dragons.”
The calm bluntness of her words was a bit startling, but Kre recovered quickly with thoughts of defending his people’s honor. “That’s not… I mean we… well, I never thought that you…” he had to pause for a breath and to figure out exactly what he was trying to say.
He inwardly knew that there was enough truth in the things that Kitalia had said, at least in terms of tall tales that his people spread amongst themselves about the native people of this land. Told and retold by random travelers that passed through, merchants and minstrels, and most especially from Fort Cowl soldiers that ventured out among the nearby towns on their weekend passes. Those rumors and tales spread quickly through Tehynshin cities and towns, especially when it was a rare thing for most Tehynshin commonfolk to ever meet an Ylveryan and learn the truth about them. Kre and his friends were a rare lot that seemed to have more of an open mind when it came to their mysterious neighbors on the frontier.
He supposed that it was Marxin’s worldliness and rare intellect that had this kind of positive influence on Kre’s generation. He thought back to how the adults in the community were more discriminatory about Ylveryans and, at the time, he simply believed that their personal experiences granted them that insight. He knew now that wasn’t true. They were simply perpetuating stories they had heard and believed in whole-heartedly, and who could blame them. They didn’t have an influence like Marxin to teach them to think for themselves.
Now that he thought about it a bit, he wondered how much of his non-prejudice regarding Ylveryans came from Ser Terync, or as Kre knew him at the time, Terry Cootsman, his neighbor. Since Cooter rarely went out to join the town in social events with passing strangers, Kre would usually fill him in on the local gossip during their game sessions.
Most every time that Kre would describe how a visiting soldier recounted a story of his own bravery against an Ylveryan savage that had taken the shape of a bear or a wolf, Cooter would just snort and say something like, “Damn fools. A wee bit of pelt and paint scared’em good most like. Shape changers indeed.”
Kre didn’t know how to respond when Cooter went off like that, but he generally had a similar comment whenever Kre retold something he heard about the Ylveryans. Now, Kre knew that Ser Terync knew more about Ylveryans than anyone in the town, including Professor Marxin, but he couldn’t very well share any of that first-hand experience without revealing his own past as a Dragon Knight.
“We don’t all think that way,” Kre said finally. “Ser Terync was a good man, and he seemed to have a deep respect for your people. I’m starting to see why.”
She gave him one of her rare warm smiles. “Another nice gesture from you,” she chuckled. “This really has been a strange and enlightening day. Now, get some rest.” She pulled a blanket from her pack and settled into a reclined position in the corner.
Kre had one last thing he felt he needed to share though. “I’m sorry that my people say such horrible things about Ylveryans.”
Without opening her eyes, Kitalia responded, “You should not be. After all, you should hear some of the things my people say about yours.”