“The structure of nomenclature used by people over in the lands of Skrande is the inverse of what is normally seen over here in Corsinthia, this means that a person’s given name is – generally speaking – only stated after first declaring their familial name before it. Curiously, in proper writing, the Skrandonese do not use a space to separate the two halves of their name; instead, they are almost without fail written conjoined with an apostrophe wedged betwixt the two parts. Presumably, this quirk of their culture is an intentional reflection of the fact that - even in verbal usage - one almost never hears anything save for a person’s full title being used.

Generally speaking, in those occasional moments a Skrandonese name is not used in full, it is the familial part of the title that is used by itself.”

- Excerpt from the Encyclopedia Corsinthia

Chapter 22: “Even More Salt”

The flickering of the roaring campfire was a pleasant change of pace from the dogged marching that had been taking place earlier that night. Despite his embittered determinedness to push forward as quickly as he could towards the Grand Library at Dulsnik, eventually even Jysalef Soresh himself had to give in to the need to sit down and sleep. That said, the unlikely quartet had only just now halted for the night; thusly, all four of them were – for the time being – still very much awake. The amount of conversation that presently transpired had increased somewhat since the exodus from Kyosem had first begun; but not much had actually yet been said, although that would soon change.

Terus, unable to let sleep at long last wash over him due to the questions that still surged mightily through the halls of his mind, looked over to where Latte was currently laying and declared, “I thought for sure that when we left for Dulsnik that you’d be taking your leave back to Miran Via in Elpsiod, and his orphanage, as I thought you were concerned with the well-being of Konik and the others; after all, it’s not a particularly dangerous stretch to walk there by oneself. So then, Milady, what keeps you with us still during this time of peril?”

Having overheard the confused words of his young ward, the vagrant swordsman could not help but to chuckle somewhat audibly from the mirth he founds in the naďveté of the question just put forth. As far as Jysalef saw the matter of things, there was one very obvious reason to assume when a girl of Latte’s age seemed to be shirking all duty to follow a man about the countryside of Corsinthia like this.

Latte slowly turned to look over to where Terus Kyreon was lying, before then she had been gazing pensively off into the surrounding forest as one might be expected to stare into the maw of an oncoming dragon itself. In a worriedly distant tone, she slowly responded to the young swordsman’s query, “When Mister Soresh finally woke up, I contacted Master Via and informed him that I would soon be returning to Elpsiod by myself; but he insisted that I stay with you all of you, he seemed so urgent, and forced me to even promise that I would do so.”

“Aye, sometimes the mother bird has to force the chick out of the nest for its own good; lest it otherwise never moves to take flight on its own terms.” Jysalef quietly stated, with a smirk, to himself in great bemusement of all that he was presently hearing. Then - shifting his position somewhat so that his gaze could now be transfixed upon the group’s most recent acquisition - the man declared in a far less jovial tone, “However, I think what interests me far more is why you are so keep upon the notion of following us straight up to our land’s capital. Never once, during all of the time I spent in the lord’s service campaigning within the lands of Skrande, did I ever hear of one of your kind wanting to make a trip over here for reasons that did not involve the conflict; no, not even for a pilgrimage conducted in the name of your false God. So, tell me Aihr Reoisce, just exactly what sort of malevolence did you think you’d better accomplish through saving my life with your heathen rituals?”

With a face that was suddenly flushed with anger, the Skrandonese Priestess gritted her teeth as she – in response to the recent bout of interrogation from the vagrant swordsman - quickly pushed herself up into a standing into a sitting position. With a sudden raging ferocity that had not before been seen from within her - such that both Latte and Terus cowered visibly from where they lay - the cyan-haired woman began to shout most vitriolusly at Jysalef, “Why am I presently - against my wishes - burdened with the ordeal of being here, or the nature of my goals to accomplish in Dulsnik, are things of which are not any concern of yours at all! I will not be discussing my private matters with anyone at all, and most certainly not someone so lewd and vulgar to the world as you are that you refuse to ever say my name correctly for the sake of spite itself. Why you bothered to take the time to spare me my end from that dragon I will never know, but I can only assume her divinity wanted to pour even more salt still upon the gaping wounds that have been my life!”

Then, standing up fully for a moment – looming menacingly over Jysalef Soresh like a ziggurat reaching ever upwards into the sky, and whatever came beyond – her entire body convulsed as she continued to put forth her diatribe while tears began to well up in her eyes, “Though here I currently stand, still alive and breathing all thanks to your intervening with what would have otherwise been chance completely out of my hands, I assure you that you need not ever worry that I am off walking the road to Dulsnik with ill intentions set upon anyone inhabiting that city.”

Eventually Reoisce’Aihr - her rant at last completely spent - collapsed back down to where her bedding had been laid out for the night upon the forest floor; there she continued crying most audibly to herself in a fit of rage, all over matters most unclear. Watching all of this transpire put concern and worry clearly upon the faces of Terus and Latte; but they moved to do nothing, as neither one of the two youths could think of what might be right thing to say in such a situation.

Jysalef Soresh – however - in response to her outburst finally being over, rolled over upon his own bedding so that he was now facing away from both the fire and – more importantly – the lunatic raving Skrandonese woman, “Well then, that definitely makes for two of us whom wish I hadn’t nearly become some dragon’s dinner just to keep you alive. If I had just let you go, then by now I’d have most likely already been to Dulsnik and back - ridding myself of that daft man’s errand of questionable authenticity - and I would have furthermore been able to do so without hearing you and your theatrics!”

For the rest of the night - up until when the members of group at last managed to find their way into the wondrous twilight world of dreams - there were no more sounds to be heard, save for that of the cyan-haired woman’s sobs.