Tom, a young peasant

A lanky youth answered from the perch of a battered bullock cart, ”Travelers from the western village of Beaver's Crossing, sir,” he said, failing miserably to hide his rustic accent.

”State your business, peasant,” the guard barked.

”To barter pelts from our village for gold and iron, sir,” said the youth, whose name was Tom.

The guard leaned forward, withdrew a patch of tarpaulin, peered into the damp cart and rummaged through the piles of pelts.

Something suddenly moved among the furs, and the guard took a few steps back, lowering his hand to the hilt of his sword.

A curvy figure sat up in the cart. It was a woman, a bit older than Tom but still young, stunningly beautiful and with long blonde hair. She wore a gown that fit tight around her very ample figure that became even more prominent as she stretched her arms in the air. She blinked her big blue eyes drowsily and yawned.

”Tom, you buffoon, are we there yet?”

Then she noticed the guard and frowned. She puckered her full lips and studied him with ill-concealed disgust.

”... And to escort the lady here to the city's silk market,” Tom added.

The guard moved closer to the woman, letting his eyes wander up and down her body.

”Hrm, peasant, you're not trying to sneak in a whore into the city are you ... There's an entrance fee for that, if you know what I mean.”

The young woman's face blushed red as she stared at the guard with wrathful scorn.

”Tom, how can you let this disgusting man talk about me this way?”

”Oh no, nothing like that, sir! This is Yolanda, the wife of our village chief and I'm here to escort her in her search for, uhm, delicate garments”, Tom squeaked.

”In that case, your Highness, welcome to Zatakia,” the guard said scornfully and made an exaggeratedly cordial gesture towards the city gate.

Yolanda let out a "hrmph" and looked away. Tom murmured thanks and urged the two sluggish oxen on through the massive arch leading through the city gates and into the city.