Walking across a desert usually takes a lot of preparation. Water is the most important factor, followed by transport, navigation, and even defense from the many monsters that hide amongst the dunes. Luckily for me, these are not issues I need to concern myself with. I don’t need water, I don’t need transport, I have an internal compass to point me where I need to go, and defense was something that came naturally to me.

It had been a lonely trip so far, there were no caravans active this time of year due to the intense heat and sandstorms, but there were occasionally guides that would move people across the desert for the right price. So far though, I had encountered no one.

When Pebble had looked out at the desert he’d always been comforted by the desolate beauty of it. I felt much the same as I walked, scanning the dunes. It was my fifth day of travel and I found myself wishing I had more landmarks or indications that I was close to the city, but unfortunately all I ever saw was sand and the occasional half buried building that looked much the same as every other half buried building.

I was surprised when, upon cresting a dune, I found myself completely surrounded. I hadn’t noticed them at first because their scales were the same color as the sand and their graceful movements made no sound. There were seven of them. I was struck by their beauty and grace almost immediately. The naga had a kind of proud bearing that radiated from them and the blending of human and snake features was very handsome. They were each holding weapons, but they seemed hesitant to get too close to me. They were a mixed group of males and females, though I could tell all, but one of them were warriors.

I searched my memories for any words in their language, but could find little aside from something Pebble had picked up from an old adventurer that had told him he’d escaped from a naga cavern.

“May the light of Serpa warm your scales.” It came out awkwardly as a series of hisses.

The Naga’s eyes widened in surprise. They hissed at one another and then back at me.

“I speak only common, orcish, drwarvish, elvish, some undercommon, and maybe...draconic.” I named each language in the language itself, hoping for some recognition. A female, the one who didn’t have the look of a warrior, took a step, or rather a slither, closer to me.

“You can speak the language of the enemies, but greet us in the way of our people?” she asked in common.

“I suppose I do, yes. How do you know common?”

“It is my responsibility as the storyteller to know all languages in which our story may appear.” She looked me up and down. “You are strange.”

“I’m aware of that.”

The female naga weaved her head side to side, deep in thought. “Is your strangeness the reason you are not dead?”

“Probably, but why do you think I should be dead?”

Her tongue flicked out and tasted the air. “We have been following you for some time. You entered the desert with no water or food and have not stopped walking for several days. We were intending to simply wait until you collapsed and take you to our young to be eaten.”

“Ah, well normally that would be a great plan except,” I removed my helmet, “I doubt that your young feed on steel.”

All but the closest Naga backed away, hissing. The female however let out what I assumed was a laugh.

“It would seem we have wasted our time.”

“I’d apologize, but you were planning on eating me so I don’t feel I should.”

She smiled. “I am Syrene. As you have nothing to offer us and have greeted us with respect we shall allow you to pass through our desert unharmed.”

“I appreciate your practicality.”

She nodded. “We can afford to be nothing less.”

“Can I ask how far I am from the city?”

“Two more nights and you shall reach it. Be wary though, the followers of the wyrm have many patrols in that area.”

“Lizardmen?”

“I believe that is what you call them, yes.”

“Thank you.” I placed my helmet back on.

Syrene cocked her head. “Are there many like you outside the desert?”

“I’m the only one, as far as I know.”

“An oddity then, I look forward to telling our people about you and adding to our story.”

I nodded, not fully understanding what she meant, and resumed my trek toward Usulaum. Before I’d even gone ten feet, they’d all vanished back into the desert.

…

Pebble would have been ecstatic at the encounter I’d just had, though if he’d experienced it himself he likely would’ve been eaten. He got to see Naga up close, learn a little bit about them culturally, and actually interact with them directly. He could’ve written entire papers on what I’d just experienced.

I continued making my way through the desert, mentally composing the paper he would write as it seemed as good a method as any to keep myself distracted from the growing monotony of my walk through the desert and the persistent thoughts regarding my friends and their situations. I was so deep in thought that I completely forgot I needed to be watching out for lizardmen and was taken by surprise when they attacked.

They burst from the sand behind me and two of them immediately hurled large javelins in my direction. One skimmed my shoulder plate, and the other slammed into the tower shield I had strapped to my back, shattering into splinters.

Instead of pulling out my usual longsword I took my new multiplying sword out of my mouth and divided it into two. The lizardmen rushed me as I did so. The nearest one leapt on powerful hind legs bringing down a massive club covered in what looked to be shards of sharpened black glass. I stabbed upward before he could bring the club down and ran my sword through the creature’s chest, using his own momentum against him. I dropped him and the sword and created another one that I threw at a lizardman that was readying a javelin. It struck him in the leg, severing it and he collapsed to the ground in pain.

Two more approached me swinging their clubs, but I turned and absorbed their blows on my shield, feeling it sap their energy. I then swiftly twirled with my sword outstretched and slashed them across their stomachs sending a spray of blood across my armor. I started toward the remaining javelin thrower. He made a final throw, but I batted it away with my swords and started running toward him. He eyed his fallen comrades, and ran. I pursued him for a few moments, but his feet were made for running on the sand, my boots were not.

I turned my attention to the lizardmen behind me, or lizardfolk I thought, realizing that the differing sizes and coloring indicated at least two females among the dead. They wore no clothing. The males had stood a foot taller than I was at orc armor size and the females were even larger. Their scales were shades of blue, red, or even light purple, but they wore some kind of warpaint that camouflaged them, it was the same coloring that the naga had naturally.

I felt a little guilty at slaying them, but they hadn’t given me a chance to talk like the naga had, even though I suspected their intentions were much the same. I stored a few of their strange clubs, which I realized were bladed with obsidian, making them more akin to swords. I considered burying them, but decided that the desert would likely take care of that for me.

I initially began walking directly for the city, but hesitated. This was a learning opportunity much like the one I'd had with the mer-folk. I approached what looked to be the most intact of them, and consumed him. I was able to read through his essence much like I had been with my last snack. Part of me missed the overwhelming sensation I used to get, but this was certainly more practical. I saw images of massive underground cities with tunnels spread across the world. Two species locked in combat across these tunnels, where the only peace comes from both being too damaged to continue. There were massive icons of lizards made of pure gold that lined walls of intricately carved flowers of gemstone. The memory that radiated the strongest however was a simple one, of laying in a massive pit, the sun coming down, surrounded by my people, warming ourselves in the light and feeling the heat of it sink into my scales.

They seemed an interesting people, just not one that's very interested in speaking with outsider. There was a feeling of superiority the lizardman had as well as an in-built insularity. I continued to parse through the memories and impressions as I made my way through the desert.

By nightfall the tower of Usulaum came into sight. It was an enormous red spire that extended far toward the heavens. The rest of the city sat much lower, but was no less grand in it’s own way. High walls of sandstone, buildings reaching almost half the height of the tower, and all of it was lit in such a way that if the desert was flat it would’ve been visible for miles.

It took me several more hours to reach the walls of the city. There were no gates, and instead of gatekeepers I had to find a sand shaper. It took quite some time for me to locate one and even more time to gain his attention, but once he saw me he moved himself to a portion of the wall, placed his hand above it and a doorway appeared allowing me entrance. I walked through halfway and found the way behind me and in front of me sealed off and a hole above me opened, down which looked the sand shaper. He was pale, likely from working the night shift, had dark eyes, and a shaved head.

“Get drunk and fall out of the walls or were you one of the escorts that took some students to explore the dunes?”

“Neither, I’m just a visitor.”

The man squinted down at me. “From where?”

“Caedus.”

“Alone?”

I made a show of looking around the small opening I had. “Seem to be, don't I?”

“I’m going to level with you. That’s the most suspicious thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it really?”

“Well, I once had a woman tell me her husband didn’t mind me spending evenings with her. Turned out that was true, but her boyfriend had a problem with it.” He looked me over. “Eh, whatever. I’m supposed to let everyone in except lizardman and Naga, and even that has exceptions. I’m not paid enough to care about this.” He moved and I felt some energy in the air followed by my way into the city being opened back up.

I made my way through and entered the city proper. There were no planned roads like there had been in the capital of Caedun, and there was no set gate from which one was meant to enter the city, so I found myself immediately in the night market. The streets were lit by floating paper lanterns that drifted lazily over the various stalls and food vendors. The smell of cooking meat and strong spices filled the air. It was less busy than it would’ve been during caravan season, but the large number of students and day laborers that lived in the city were doing their best to keep things alive. Some were chatting outside of food carts, others were bartering with merchants for alchemical ingredients, and some were even sitting on benches reading, enjoying the company of the market, but not willing to engage with it.

I felt an immediate sense of comfort here. This was where Pebble had grown up after all, and all of it was familiar to me through his memories. I recognized several of the merchants, including one who’d once swindled Pebble into spending an inordinate amount of money on what he thought was a traditional Naga headdress, but was actually something he’d stolen from an artist.

While I had no need to eat I did spend some time tasting the various foods as I passed by, noting the spices, types of meat, and the garnishes used by each vendor. Syven would have been ecstatic at the opportunity to learn more about Usulaum food.

I wanted to make my way directly to the university, but I realized that at this time of night it was likely closed, or at least partially closed. Rather than go and wait outside the library I wandered around the market, looking at various baubles being sold and occasionally making polite conversation with students who wandered over to ask me about being an adventurer.

In the middle of one such conversation I heard what sounded like an explosion come out of a nearby restaurant. I ran inside, passing by several customers who were coughing and walking out to find a man desperately trying to put out a fire with a large cloth. I moved in front of him, removed a gauntlet, and jettisoned the water that remained in my armor to douse the flame, revealing a heavily charred lizard. I returned my gauntlet to my hand and turned my attention to the soot stained man who had been trying to put out the fire. I tasted the air.

The man next to me was a wide dwarf with a short trimmed beard, the style for dwarves in the hot Usulaum sun, wearing an apron and a concerned expression. He turned to me. “Oh, thank you Ser! I was worried my restaurant was going to burn to the ground.”

“Did you try to season this with fire salt?”

“What- er, yes Ser, I did.”

“How much?”

“Three pinches.”

“Three!? I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

“I just followed the recipe given to me by the day chef.”

“Describe them.”

“Er, she’s a half elf, dainty woman, big personality.”

“Did you think that maybe a pinch for her is a bit smaller than a pinch for you.”

The man looked down at hands with fingers as thick as sausages. “Oh.”

I shook my helmet. “Well, at least you're okay. Watch the fire salt next time alright?” I began making my way back out to the market.

“Wait! Do you know anything about cooking?”

I turned back to face him. “I know a fair amount.” Thanks to Syven’s years of practice, I knew far more than all but perhaps the cooks that served royalty.

“Would you, well, would you be willing to help me out for the night? The night market is just getting started, and I really need the business.”

“I don’t know…” I said, but looking at the man I felt a fair amount of concern that without my help he would kill himself.

“Please, I’ll pay you well. My night chef quit yesterday, I thought I could just follow the recipes and it would be fine, but…” he gestured vaguely at the mess of smoke and soot all around us.

I sighed, which was for show of course, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it. “Fine, I’ll help you.”

The man smiled and took off his apron, handing it to me. I tied it on.

“Are you going to remove your armor Ser?”

“Considering the kitchen you left me looks like a battlefield, I think I’d be safer wearing it.”