Drakor raised an eyebrow. “Is the wheat here particularly vicious?”
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He frowned as something occurred to him “Ah, my apologies. That was out of turn. You do not have to answer that if you do not want to.”
“It’s what I have on hand. I’ve never had reason to bother buying a proper dagger. Most petty thieves will run upon seeing any blade at all. And those who don’t…” Paprika made an expression of slight irritation. “…are going to be more work regardless.”
Drakor noted the tenses and her expression. “You have experience.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“I can hold my own. Only as much as anybody who’s been traveling alone for years.” Paprika did not especially intend this as genuine humility.
What do I ask him next?
“Why do you travel with Wanderer?”
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“Our interests align. Same mission, same goal.” Drakor shrugged. “You said you travel alone, though this is your hometown. Where have you gone?”
“To nearby towns to buy and sell. What is your goal?”
“Uncover whatever Baron Dalin is hiding,” Drakor replied. “Our backer suspects wrongdoing but has nothing concrete.”
(Is… is concrete a thing?)
(If not just pretend he said “nothing solid”)
“How good is your memory?” Drakor asked.
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Paprika looked slightly irritated, though she’d expected this outcome. “That’s not what I asked. You are not your backer. What is your goal?”
Of course, concrete was invented thousands of years ago in Taldor. In the modern day alchemists have also developed an alchemical version that dries much more quickly.
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The woman who was biting her fingernails earlier brings her dishes up to the counter and leaves the building, casting one last nervous glance behind her as she goes.
“Touche.” Drakor tapped his hood in recognition of the point.
(Does fantasy France exist??)
“I have people to protect. Completing this mission is a small step towards that goal.”
He leaned back against the wall. “How good is your memory?”
(I accidentally made Rika’s last name fantasy French instead of fantasy German so IG so)
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(LOL)
(We are looking for a baguette the next time we’re at a fancy bakery)
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yes! it’s called Galt. They’re doing the French Revolution thing, specifically the French revolution thing where they cut off the heads of everyone who was just in power. They’ve been doing the French Revolution thing for <checks notes> 37 years.
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(If you eat the richest people at a given point instead of a defined rich class, then you’ll have many more people to eat)
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Also, rather than having regular guillotines, they have magic guillotines that trap your soul and stop you from going to the afterlife 
(this may be an improvement in the specific case of people who would otherwise go to the Evil afterlives)
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(probably the Taldor version was not the first thing that could arguably be referred to as concrete, just the first thing that’s “the thing that comes to mind when you think of concrete”. but possibly I am overthinking the historical correspondence here.)
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(Taldor isn’t even fantasy Rome, it’s fantasy The Byzantine Empire, just,)