Adam’s eyes remained completely focused upon the board, narrowing his eyes towards the positions of the various pieces. ‘What would Konarot do in this position? Would she…’ 

The woman stared at the board, blinking, for she had left a piece hanging, and also other pieces wildly out of position, but seeing the way the half elf was moving his own pieces, she wasn’t sure if she was doing quite as poorly. 

“Nephew, let us draw?”

“Draw what?” Adam asked, furrowing his brows as his thoughts fell upon Karot. “Oh, excuse me, yes, of course!”

The woman smiled, looking pointedly upon his hand, which quickly retreated as the half elf smiled sheepishly. Adam took his silver coin, but ended up buying some food from a nearby vendor for himself, his companions and the woman, waving at her as he left. The half elf let out a satisfied smile as they made their way through the capital, Dunes guiding them to stay away from the darker parts of the capital. 

Yet, somehow, the knocking of crossbows caused the Priest to glance aside, to a particular set of young men, though there was one who was slightly older, wielding a crossbow with engraved wood. 

“Hands up, you pretenders,” the older fellow called, as the eight figures, plus two hiding away, eyed up the trio. A couple were still uncertain, for there was a Black Lion nearby, or so they had heard, but thankfully he didn’t seem to be following these three around. 

“The Lion’s Mane,” Dunes called, tilting his head to the half elf. “It is considered among the best of the crossbows, known for its smoothness. Each sells for one hundred, but you see the black wood? The scaled pattern across the wood? Two hundred gold.”

“Oh,” Adam replied, slowly nodding his head. 

“Aswadian Black,” Jurot said. “Good wood.”

“What are you, some kind of wood expert?” the man replied, his eyes darting between the trio. 

“Yes,” Jurot replied, causing Adam to smile. 

“You think you’re funny?”

“Yes,” Jurot stated. “I am also good with wood.”

“Tell me a joke.”

“You might survive if you pull the trigger,” Jurot said, his tone blank and dry. 

“Oh yeah? What’s the joke?”

“You would not.” Jurot remained completely calm as four of the crossbows pointed to him, two upon the other two figures. The shadow of a smile appeared on his lips, for certainly, Adam did not wear his armour, and nor did Dunes, so he was perhaps the strongest there. At least their foes understood that much. 

Adam raised his brows towards his brother, his smile wide, doing his best not to laugh. ‘Yo!’

“Yeah?” The man chuckled, his own grin growing wide. “You’re going to make sure of it?”

“Yes,” Jurot replied, as though it were truly that simple, his eyes glued to the older man’s, whose crossbow was pointed directly at the Iyrman’s chest. 

“You walking around with the wrong Divine in these parts,” the older fellow said. “Pretending to be from Black Mountain will get you killed by them anyhows, so I’m doing you a favour.”

It was then a set of steps caused the ten to glance aside, noting the arrival of a figure in entirely black armour, his lion face helmet silver, with golden eyes. 

“Kal Uli of the Black Lions,” Uli said, his tone clear, firm, calm. “What is the meaning of this?”

“There’s a pretender from Black Mountain walking about,” the figure said, pointing his crossbow down. “It’s illegal.”

“Where?” Uli asked. 

“Right there, Kal.”

“Mo Dunes, where is this pretender?” Uli asked, glancing to the Brother. 

“I suppose he means myself, Kal Uli,” Dunes replied with a playful smile. 

Uli turned to face the figure once more, who swallowed, sweat gleaming down from his face. The glare within from the Black Lion caused the fellow to step away, mumbling an apology, and bowing his head deeply in shame, while the two hidden in the shadows were praising themselves for being so smart, for of course it was completely normal from someone from Black Mountain to hang around with Iyrmen! The half elf? He was a bit queer, though. 

“Thank you, Kal Uli,” Adam said, bowing his head lightly to the Black Lion, who bowed his head lightly in return. 

After they grovelled for Dunes’ mercy, the group continued along their way. The heat continued to bear down across the four as they made their way through the noisy capital, which held smells and sounds one could only find within the capital of Aswadasad, good, bad, and everything in between. As they approached the outskirts of a district, where a small marketplace dealt with various goods, Dunes paused, noting a woman in colourful attire, dressed head to heel within various colours and patterns, a belt that was tied slightly to her left. 

“Aryahabi,” Dunes called, approaching the woman, who turned to face the Mo, and the pair bowed their heads, clasping their hands over their hearts as they did. 

“Many blessings to you, Mo,” the woman replied, her skin as dark as the night, her eyes a piercing hazel, almost amber, or emerald, depending on the light. She wore silver make up that lined her brows, making her appear in her sixties, though she was without a doubt in her thirties, because she looked to be in her twenties. 

After a short conversation, Dunes allowed her to continue shopping in peace, returning back to his companions. 

“She is Zala,” Dunes explained.

“What does that mean?”

“She is a descendant of Lord Zaladhin,” Dunes said, the half elf’s brows furrowing, before realising who he was talking about. 

“Oh! I keep forgetting he was just a guy at one point.”

“He was not just a guy,” Dunes urged. “He was the greatest general to ever live, and may be the greatest general to ever live.”

“I don’t know if he’s that good,” Adam replied, thinking about the high praise the current Kings of Aldland and Floria received. 

“How many generals have ascended to become a member of the Major Divine?” Dunes replied with a coy smile. 

“Fair point,” Adam replied, chuckling elbowing the Brother gently. “Hey, you know, I could become one of the Major Divine!”

“As the Lord of Fatherhood, perhaps?”

“The Lord of Looove,” Adam replied, winking, causing Dunes to burst out in laughter. “How did you know she’s from the Zala? Was it the brows?”

“No, but perhaps another guess?”

Adam eyed up the woman, noting the vast colours and patterns all across her attire, which were almost hypnotising. “The belt?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I made that up,” the half elf replied, still surprised. “What’s so special about it?”

“How is she wearing it?” Dunes asked, motioning to himself and Adam, the pair having tied their belts to the right. 

“It’s tied slightly to the left?”

“Directly under the heart,” Dunes stated, nodding his head. “It signals she is of the Zala. There are also the Ladin, a group who moved further east. They are the same people, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“The Zala only allow humans to carry their name, as well as one half elf, who passed away a few years ago, while the Ladin, they allow all to carry their name. Devilkin, human, half dragon, though if there was a half dragon in the Zala, I am sure they would also allow them, horcs, inasir, it does not matter to the Ladin.”

“I like the Ladin a little more, I think.”

Dunes shrugged his shoulders. “It is their way.”

“Yeah, well…” Adam shrugged his shoulders in return. “There’s a reason why I love the Iyr.”

Dunes smiled, bowing his head in defeat, while the four continued along their journey, until Jurot whispered into Adam’s ear. 

“Oh, good point,” the half elf, said, rubbing his chin. “Dunes, could you escort us to the swordsmith’s place?”

It wasn’t long until they were finally back at the swordsmith’s, who eyed the group up curiously, though he bowed his head to the Mo. Rabin scratching his beard lightly, looking as though he had chewed upon lemon peels, as the four perused his wares. An Iyrman, a Brother of Black Mountain, a Black Lion, and a half elf. 

Adam eyed up various blades, before turning to Rabin. “Say, by any chance, if we were buying a sword for the Shen, which sword would be best?”

Rabin blinked. “You should buy a weapon which is a Masterwork.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point, although, I think it would be a good idea to hand it over and promise to enchant it into a Greater Enhanced weapon, wouldn’t that be nice?” Adam asked, turning to his brother, speaking of enchantments so casually. 

“It is a good idea.”

“So maybe we buy, like, a nice sword, nothing too nice, and then when the Shen feels a little insulted, because come on, if you’re going to meet the Shen, you should bring a good gift, and then bam, we offer him a Greater Enhanced enchantment for his sword!” Adam slapped his palm, smiling as though he was a genius.

‘He is going to get himself killed,’ Uli thought, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply, hoping the Mustashalur would appreciate his hard work. 

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Imagine jumping Jurot, Adam, and Dunes...