"...the Founding was in the year of the Departure. So.. two millenia, give or take a few years for when they had enough of a place built to crown him. Or maybe he wasn't a King at first?" He pauses meditatively. "- he wasn't! He was just the founder, for the first thousand years, and then we had enough trade with our neighbors and disagreements to settle that it made sense for him to be a King about them, which he has been at thirteen centuries."

"Oh." How long do these people live. "Is he a good King, then?"

"Obviously! He's had so much practice!"

She smiles. "Right, of course. Er, is there anything else that'd be important for me to know before I head to a bigger city? I don't - I know I'm a country bumpkin right now but I don't want to embarrass myself too badly." 

"...well," gesture at the person's own hair, tied back with ribbons, "I've never seen anyone, uh, wear their hair like they're washing it when they're not washing it? Also it's short but I know it takes some time to do anything about that. And, I've...never heard of anybody with a soul that doesn't work, and people are going to be concerned."

"- Oh, thank you for the warning, that's very good to know." Ashran thinks that they can send a different person next, someone with long hair, not that hers is even that short in her opinion. "And, no, I can't do anything about the, uh, soul, but I'll - keep in mind that it's concerning. Thank you." 

"Of course. Would you like some food before you go?"

"Yes, I'd appreciate that." Ashran smiles as warmly as she can manage. 

"My pleasure." He starts singing again and continues down the road, unhurried.

The singing is very pretty. She wonders if it comes across at all through her concealed microphone. Probably not well. Come to think of it, Ashran has no idea if either Mhalir or Carissa appreciate music much. 

She follows. 

He shoos the cows into the field and then makes his way back to his house, where he makes some kind of oatmeal on the stove and fries three of the sausages hanging over the stove. "What're you looking to find in Lothlan? Or Brithombar?"

"Something to do with myself that's more interesting than farming, I guess? I don't know, yet, I'm mostly just curious what cities are like." 

"They're all right! Though it sounds exhausting to have to accommodate all your neighbor's design sensibilities all the time."

"- Huh, really? What're they going to do if you don't?" 

"....well, you can't own a property in the city if everyone's unhappy about how it's decorated, right? No one but me cares how my farm looks."

"Really! I don't know how, er, owning property works here, legally, but that seems surprising - is the local leadership going to take it away from you if your neighbours complain enough...?" 

"...yes? I mean, I complain about it, but it'd hardly be a solution to let people with bad taste put up eyesores."

"Good to know, I guess. Thank you." 

Ashran isn't sure how much longer she has with Tongues, so she finds an excuse to wander over to the other side of the local person's house, pretending to examine the decor, and whispers into her microphone. "Mhalir, how much longer -?"

(Mhalir always lets Carissa answer magic-related questions.) 

Her Tongues lasts ninety minutes, these days. There's about forty of them left.

Phew, then Ashran isn't in a huge hurry and can stay to eat and chat with the local. 

"So what's in fashion in the city these days?" she asks (well, Eliza does, feeling more comfortable with this genre of small talk.) "I wouldn't want my outfit to offend anyone's taste." She gestures vaguely at the Velgarth-style tunic. 

"I don't think it's tasteless so much as...incompetent? It looks like your hand was injured when you did the stitches. What did you want it to look like?"

"I, um, didn't have good lighting when I was doing it. I was going for..." And Eliza makes up some things on the spot. 

This person seems content to serve the oatmeal and sausage and spend the next several hours talking about her artistic vision for her outfit.

Ashran needs to excuse them much sooner than that, of course; she gives it thirty-five minutes from Mhalir's warning, at which point she's at least finished eating, and then apologizes and says that she really must be going now because (some reasons she makes up on the spot without much eye to whether they make sense.)