"Sir!" Rowan shook my arm, bringing me back to reality.
"Yes! Sorry Rowan, something happened, and it's completely pulled my attention away."
"Do I want to know?"
I shook my head. "No, lad, this is just for me."
"Arrazd says the family from Jult is in the third hut from the left."
"Thank him for me, will you?"
I made my way to the tent.
An older man, balding, shirtless, was sitting on a wooden stump outside of the tent.
"What are you doing?" He asked me in Duhiran, the language most common in the kingdoms.
"I'm looking for the Jult refugees," I told him.
He winced at my accent.
"Arantha?" He said, in perfect Valandish.
The Desert Kingdoms refused to speak it. They could, they just didn't.
I nodded. 'Yes, sir. I arrived yesterday."
"I see that staff on your back, you an Academy mage?"
I nodded. "Yes sir."
"Hmmm. They say that Arantha is the best place in the world to learn magic."
"I haven't heard that, sir, are you from Jult?"
