Part 3
"Do I really have to wear the robes all the time?" Elias asked as they approached the Checkpoint at the southern reaches of the Dwarven empire, walking out of the jungle.
"Of course you do!" Vordea insisted, not disguised in the least. "You're my High Priest. Remember, you have my backing. Speak with confidence."
"I've been meaning to ask, where's your gauntlet?" Nalaea asked, pointing at Vordea's exposed hand.
"I left it at an intriguing village with no name. We're stopping there on the way to Port Sulala." Vordea answered, thinking back to the conversation she had in that tavern that day nearly 4 years ago.
As they approached the checkpoint, the soldiers inside took notice, and one came out, beckoning them over.
"Hoy, travellers!" He called. "This way please."
Nodding, Elias led the 4 of them as they came up to the impressively overbuilt checkpoint. Two stories tall, surrounded by nothing but Dwarven desert, and with a huge complement of staff. Elias wondered how much of this was just an employment project for the Empire.
"Welcome to the Empire of Eternal Sand. This ain't Port Sulala so we'll keep it short and sweet." The soldier said. "Are any of you wanted criminals in the Empire?"
"No." Elias answered.
"Good. What is the purpose of your visit?"
"We are travelling to Port Sulala to book passage back to Karand." Elias answered again.
"Last one is a census question. Occupations?" The soldier asked, and quickly regretted asking it.
"Goddess." Vordea answered. The soldier's face paled.
"High Priest." Elias answered.
"Nobleman." Francisco said.
"Royal Elven Ranger." Nalaea finished.
"Really?" The soldier asked after a moment's silence. The four of them nodded, causing him to sigh. "We have to do this the long way then. Get on inside you lot."
The four of them laughed slightly as they followed the border guard inside, knowing this was going to happen. Inside, a customs official was soundly asleep, snoring particularly loudly.
"Pay no mind to old Fultheim." The guard said, gesturing at the snoring official. "Good man, just has sleeping sickness."
Vordea's gaze lingered on Fultheim for a long moment as they walked by, a fact that went unnoticed by all save Elias, who decided to quiz her about it.
"What was that about?" Elias whispered.
"What was what?" Vordea asked evasively.
"You looked upon him wistfully, like he was an old friend." Elias stated, a bit louder now as they entered a private room.
"You're far sharper than you were a few years ago." Vordea answered, slightly annoyed. "That was a minor God. Fultheim, the God of Sleep."
"Right then you lot, let's get this started." An official said, emerging from another door and sitting down at the desk in the room they had entered.
"Of course." Elias said, taking a seat first.
"Name?"
"Elias Malloit."
"Occupation?"
"High Priest of the Vordean Church."
"I'd ask for confirmation but she's literally right there." He said, gesturing at Vordea and chuckling. "Reason for entry?"
"Travelling to Northern Karand. We plan to journey via the main highways to the Imperial Capital, then on to Port Sulala."
"Expected intentional casualty count?" The official asked, moving right along.
"Zero. I have no control over bandits stupid enough to attack a Goddess and her High Priest, however."
"Catastrophe class Visa for High Priest Malloit approved. We'll have Godsfire Division monitoring your party from beyond the horizon for cleanup duty. Next."
The official stamped a bright red visa and handed it to Elias, who took it with a bow, placing it in his robe pockets before standing up. Vordea went to sit down next, but the official shook his head.
"You'd be wasting both of our time, Madam Goddess. I already know who you are, and I know you can forge our visas anyway. You, the elf."
Nalaea sat down at the chair next, and peered at the official. His beard was greying, but his eyes felt threatening, almost intimidating. She also felt she knew who she was, but decided to keep it to herself.
"Name?" He asked, paying her staring no mind.
"Nalaea Herydark."
"Rank?" He asked as he wrote her name on the visa.
"How did you know?" Nalaea asked.
"I know the uniform of the Royal Elven Rangers, Miss Herydark. Now, rank?"
"I'm not with the Rangers anymore, but it was Sentinel."
"You're not?" Vordea asked, interrupting.
"There was a time when I would have died for my homeland, but that's long past." Nalaea responded. "Now, all I need is my Goddess."
"My very own rangers..." Vordea said, trailing off. "Nalaea, you've given me a wonderful idea."
"Are you two done?" The official asked.
"Yes, sorry. What next?"
"That's it. Visa approved on the condition you are accompanied by the High Priest at all times. Here you go. Next, the Lestian."
Nalaea took the plain visa, and rose. As Francisco took a seat, she approached Vordea and whispered in her ear.
"Vordean Rangers." She whispered, and said no more, causing Vordea to smile broadly.