“What the hell, man?” Adam whispered. 

It was almost like a castle within the capital, with long walls, a myriad of buildings, each tailored for the likes of the adventurers, an unruly bunch, who bowed their heads whenever they entered this large building. There were easily hundreds of different groups which currently made their home within the Dakun Manzil, at least half of whom held Experts, and some formed purely of Experts or greater within their groups. 

Within the large inn, which looked so much like any other inn within Aswadasad, yet so different, for the entire walls were engraved with the older, more prestigious Aswadic, tens of thousands of tiles, each barely as large as a finger nail, which formed a myriad of patterns, a thousand rainbows worth of colours, especially with how the light from the various magical lanterns danced along each perfectly lain tile. 

A large counter in the centre loomed, square, with four of the most handsome men and women, each adorned completely in black, with white collars, the same as every the other worker within the inn’s emplow, and while adventurers were protected by their coloured tags, the workers were protected by their collars, which lacked all but a singular colour. 

Around the Dakun Manzil proper, were a set of tables, each made of ruby, and chairs made of red oak, forming a diamond around the workers in the centre, each table worth at least a thousand gold, the tables made of ruby one hundred thousand, in which only few had the courage to sit. 

There was only one figure who sat there this day, a large figure, skin ghost white, wrinkled, his eyes a deep ash, his hair white, though at one point black, and a large sabre which leaned against the table. 

Dunes placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Adam…”

“I wasn’t going to sit at the tables anyway,” Adam replied, letting out a small sigh, raising his brow towards the Priest, who held Adam’s serious gaze for a long moment, squeezing the half elf’s shoulder in gratitude before the pair stepped away to the side. 

“If you cause trouble here, Jurot and I cannot save you,” Dunes admitted. “If Kal Uli wishes for it, he could reduce the punishments, but we are within the Dakun Manzil now.”

“Oh ho?” Adam said, smiling wide, only stopping when Dunes reaching up to cover his eyes, feeling the stress of it all. “I won’t cause trouble here, you can be sure of that. Let’s just spend some gold, eat and drink our fill, and enjoy the day.”

Dunes smiled, bowing his head lightly, before leading the small group forward, while Jurot leaned in towards the half elf. 

“The floors have ears,” the Iyrman said, elaborating no further. 

Adam’s eyes darted around the place, noting not just the Aswadians, but the Aldish, the Ejirati, and also a familiar set of figures, in the sense they wore tattoos upon their foreheads, some which were extremely familiar. The half elf approached, Jurot taking the chance to step forward beside him, since they would recognise him at least. 

“Hello, hello!” Adam said, flashing a wide smile towards the Iyrmen, and Dunes shuffled over beside him, filled with relief. 

“Hello,” came the flat response, a red crescent moon, the points pointed upwards, as well as red crescents flowing out, points inward, revealing her to be a Rat. However, it was the one beside who was more familiar, who wore an icy blue square and red crescent moons pointed upwards flowing out from the centre. That woman also nodded, though the pair noted his tattoos, which seemed reminiscent of the Rot family. 

“Ah, I knew I should have brought Bavin along,” Adam said, letting out a grumble, before noting the other woman, recognising her tattoo too. 

“He is my brother,” Jurot said, as the Vin glanced at the half elf curiously, before she met Jurot’s eyes. Upon his words, the pair of Iyrmen relaxed, allowing the group to sit with them.

“Thank you so much,” Adam said, shuffling up closer to the table. “How do you both do?”

“Well,” the Rat replied, the other nodding her head, still eyeing up the half elf curiously. 

“I’m Adam Fate, you might know my grandfather, the Mad Dog?” Adam joked, holding out a hand, shaking their forearms. 

“Yes. My name is Sharat,” the woman who wore a blade replied, hearing Adam’s words, though still partly uncertain. 

“Revin,” the woman who wore the axe replied, nodding her head. “You know of Bavin?”

“Yeah, he’s currently journeying with us,” Adam said. “His grandfather, Bovin, asked us to watch over him, not that he needed us, since he’s so strong.”

Revin glanced aside to Sharat. “Our Bavin, who is so meek?”

“That’s the one,” Adam replied, chuckling. “How are you related?”

“He is my cousin’s son.”

“Ah,” Adam replied, nodding his head. “Bavin is doing fairly well. Last I recall he came top four in a tournament, alongside Naqokan and…” 

“He did not,” Jurot said.

“Yeah, you know, as I was saying it, I was a little confused,” Adam admitted. “What was the tournament rankings?”

“Nobby, Nirot, Uwajin, Naqokan, Laygak, Faool, were placed first to sixth,” Jurot said. 

“Damn! Did we really take the top six places?” Adam asked, furrowing his brows. “We also took the top… few ourselves, right?”

“Yes.”

“Either way, Bavin is a star, truly,” the half elf said, before turning to Jurot with a peculiar look. 

“Yes?” Jurot coaxed.

“Laygak came fifth above Faool?” Adam asked.

“Yes.”

“What the hell, man? He’s been acting all sad and mopy about how he didn’t have the potential to rise up, but he beat Faool?” Adam turned to face Dunes, his face still full of shock and annoyance. “I need a word with him.”

“It is best for Taygak to rise up, until her sisters are of age,” Jurot said, so easily dealing with Adam’s annoyance, the half elf letting out a low grunt. 

The pair of Iyrwomen remained quiet, judging the half elf, and the way his brother, the Mo of Black Mountain, and even the Black Lion were watching over him. Thankfully, the duo could easily deal with him, and Dunes ended up ordering a mass of food. 

“The rice, the best one can buy in all of Aswadasad,” Dunes said, before scooping it with a small spoon. “Do you see how each vegetable is cut? A hand as deft as any Aswadian barber, the chefs in the Dakun Manzil. Do you see the redness within the curry, not just red, but with a gently glow of orange, one might even suggest it is golden, if they are feeling particularly nationalist. Then, the bread, the naan, when you tear it apart, you can see every fibre, the softness within one’s hands, like a wife’s love, and finally, we come to the lassi, of fruits Aldland wishes it could procure, the greatest of all, of course, mango.”

“I can agree to that, at least,” Adam replied, eating the food slowly opposite the Priest.

“A wife in Aswadasad must know how to make three things. Goat. Naan. Lassi. Everything else is negotiable.”

“What about the men?” Adam asked.

“A man must know how to cook naan, to wield a blade, to place silver on the table, and if you wish to be a wise husband, know when to open your mouth, which is almost never.”

Adam almost choked on the goat curry, Jurot patting his back as tears streamed down his face, the young half elf about to elbow the Priest. He hadn’t noticed how the music, which had been present this entire time, yet invisible, had shifted lightly to match Jurot’s pats, a joke between the musicians. 

“Amen to that,” Adam said, coughing lightly. “Still, I see plenty of women tending to shops and working about the place.”

“It has always been so,” Dunes admitted, noting Adam’s surprise. He was glad it was not quite as dour as Adam expected, for all its faults, Aswadasad was still among the greatest of nations, in his personal, unbiased, Aswadian perspective. The Priest smiled, glad to show off more of Aswadasad to the half elf, who, he prayed, would treat the Executive better than Aldland, so that it could be shown a great favour, and perhaps one day, could allow the Priest to travel through the land with ease in his heart. 

As the hour passed, Dunes excused himself with the half elf, the pair eating cakes in the corner. Dunes spoke so much of Aswadasad, most of which confirmed Adam’s knowledge of the nation, as well as aspects Adam hadn’t considered, from all the patterns which he had seen, and the instruments the musicians played, which seemed similar, and yet so different than those in Aldland. 

Finally, Dunes spoke of it. 

“This is my home,” Dunes said, feeling his stomach full of good food and good drink and good company. “I believe it to be the greatest.”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, flashing a smile, nodding his head lightly. 

“I am who I am because of the Black Mountain. It took me in, it raised me. It taught me the worship of the Divine, the arts of Lady Arya, and has allowed us to meet. I am blessed, truly.”

“Me too,” Adam replied, feeling an anxiety invade his heart. 

“I have betrayed my home, and when I return, I face the punishment.”

Adam swallowed, tilting his head slightly, though he bowed it. 

“You must promise me,” Dunes said. “Even after all our preparations, you must not interfere in the punishment to be mete out to me.”

Adam inhaled deeply. “Of course, Mo Dunes. I promise.”

Dunes held up the last of his lassi, and the pair drank together, with heavy hearts, and even heavier stomachs. 

Uli remained to one side, allowing them to speak privately, and though he wished to spy upon them, he knew it was best to earn their trust respectfully, and so, even with all the gazes upon him, he remained alert to one side, ignoring the glares of the Adventurers and the workers, who did not like the Black Lions, with their royal authority, within their small kingdom. 

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Adam is no liar, but this promise might be hard to keep.