Anton felt the salty spray of the sea on his face. He stood at the prow of The Snowberry, looking out across the endless seas. It struck him just how beautiful the sea was but also how dangerous it could be. A single fire could destroy their ship and condemn everyone to a watery grave. He seriously doubted if he would survive clinging to a piece of driftwood, doubly so with the sun beaming down upon them.

“So peacefu-”

“There!”

Anton looked back. Verona and Kal, obviously wearing her mask, stood by Calo and Sheso as the Dark Elf twins fished over the side railing. Verona was the one shouting order, even though there was little she could do from the railings. Cetina stood between them, her arms folded and her eyes closed as she tried to enjoy the moment of calm.

“You almost had it.” Verona laughed. “I saw it. I saw the dammed fish right under the surface. It was coming for your bait-”

“It was probably scared away by your shouting.” Kal teased. “But it’s not like we need them.”

Verona shrugged. “I like fish. They taste great.”

“After you’ve only eaten fish for a few seasons the novelty wears off,” Sheso grumbled. Her sister silently agreed.

As they returned to their fishing another noise caught Anton’s attention. It came from the other side of the ship, from someone Anton did not expect to be so weak against sea sickness. Mezot and Axia sat with their backs against the railings, holding their staves against their chests as they rocked from side to side.

“I’ve already healed both of you.” Anton shook his head. “What is wrong with you both?”

“There’s so much water,” Axia mumbled. She looked to her charm, smaller than her mother’s with red gemstones instead of blue. “So much water…What if we’re lost forever?!”

“Are you serious?” Anton knelt before them. “Your mother grew up in a fishing village-”

“I didn’t!”

“We didn’t go this far from the shore,” Mezot mumbled. “We could always see the shore…And our ships were only small fishing boats at best.”

“We’ve been on this ship before.” Anton sat down and shuffled his way between them. “It’s going to be alright. Once we’ve made port we’ll be on solid ground for a while. And we’ll use the portals so we don’t have to use the ship.”

“Headaches or this?” Axia chuckled nervously. She leant forward slightly. “I don’t know which is worse…”

“Don’t be like that.” Anton held both of their heads. “We’ll be fine while I’m here. So just relax.”

Their breathing did indeed calm. If Anton had learnt anything from Verona and Kal, and even Cetina, just gently holding their heads was enough to calm them.

Although…That might be for other reasons…

Nevertheless, their breathing calmed and their grips on their staffs relaxed somewhat. Mezot looked at the wooden floor, a faint redness to her ears, while Axia smirked at the sight and looked towards their destination, never removing his hand.

“Frindal.” Axia murmured. “The Frindal Emirate. What’s it like?”

Anton looked to Mezot. She had the most knowledge but she did not respond. Before he could ask her directly he saw Wilford approaching. The former smuggler looked rather nervous, holding his head low and his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“Wilford. You’re looking rather nervous.” Anton chuckled. He removed his hand, Mezot seemed rather annoyed. “Please tell me you don’t owe money to someone in the Frindal Emirate. Because that would make things very difficult for us, having our captain hauled away and our ship probably seized.”

“It’s not that bad-”

“That’s a yes.” Axia smiled at Anton.

Behind Wilford the four stopped fishing, fastened the rod to the railing and walked to Anton’s side. He remained seated while the others leant against the railings.

“I do owe some money.” Wilford did not like being at the centre of attention. “But it’s not that much-”

“How much?” Verona and Axia asked simultaneously.

“A few gold coins.” Wilford ran a hand through his salt-stained hair, smiling nervously. “I may have…Tried to bed the Sultan’s daughter-”

“Do we just throw him off the ship now?” Cetina asked dryly. “I think we’re going to be in enough trouble-”

“Daughter’s handmaid.” Wilford continued. “So it’s not like I actually slept with his daughter. At least that time. She…Anyway…”

Anton studied Wilford more closely again.

He’s not an ugly man, nor a handsome one. Perhaps he has a way with words in private. Or a way with his hands…Or, since he’s a smuggler, perhaps he has access to some particularly ‘agreeable’ narcotics.

“Well, if we dock and they arrest you on sight, we’re just going to leave you there,” Anton said. “I think you know why.”

Wilford smiled. “That won’t happen. Besides, I’ve been saving up and have more than enough to pay him back for the outrage it caused him. It’s nothing serious after all. He was the one who helped me escape. If he really wanted me dead then I wouldn’t have made it out of the palace.”

“All because you wanted your dick sucked.” Verona shook her head.

Mezot threw Verona an angry look, angry for Mezot, as her daughter was right beside Anton. She failed to remember that Axia knew her swearwords already and probably knew a great deal more about things than Mezot thought.

“Perhaps…” Wilford looked at Anton. “…Regardless, I think that dealing with my issue should be first and foremost. Once we’ve gotten that little detail out of the way I’m sure the Sultan will be more than willing to help you…Do whatever it is you’re doing here.”

“Right…” Anton folded his arms. “So tell me about the Frindal’s. Anything we ought to be careful of? No gods to offend or customs to look out for?”

Wilford gently rubbed his salt-stained beard. "Anything to be careful about? Not really. Unless you plan having your...Female companions dress any lighter."

“The lightest dressed are the twins.” Anton leant forward. “Verona and Kal won’t be coming with us this time…Unless they have a problem with women as soldiers.” Anton nodded to Cetina. “Do they have problems with a woman in steel? Because I don’t.”

Cetina rolled her eye but still smirked.

“No.” Wilford looked for something to lean against but couldn’t find anything. He moved to the railing next to Cetina, Cetina kept her hand ready to draw her weapon at a moment’s notice. “No. But they do have some quirks compared to Graterious.”

“Such as?”

"I wouldn't be caught kissing a man there." Wilford's lips curled up. "I lost two of my best sailors that way. They weren't doing it outside. Obviously. They weren’t that stupid.” Wilford sighed. “But when there are only two men in a room and there’s grunting and the slapping of flesh-”

Mezot hurriedly leant over Anton to cover her daughter’s ears. Without noticing, or caring that she had her elbows dangerously close to Anton’s crotch she flapped her hands towards Axia. Axia rolled her eyes and leant closer, so Mezot could cover her ears.

“Honestly…” Axia muttered, throwing Anton a smirk. “Just wait until she realises what she’s done.”

“She is very protective of you.” Anton looked down at Mezot’s elbows digging into his thigh. “Though she shows it in the strangest ways.”

Wilford raised his hands. “Sorry. I won’t talk like that again.”

Mezot removed her hands and resumed her normal posture. Never once did her expression reveal she understood what she had done.

“But it is true, unfortunately. They found them together, in the act, and had them hauled out into the street in the middle of the night. We didn’t have a chance to do anything before they were beheaded. Not a pretty sight…We left pretty much soon after that.”

Wilford shook his head. “Not to mention the Inn didn’t want anything to do with us. They don’t want it to be known that homosexuals visit there. Even more so that they had…intimate relations under their roof. I wonder if it’s still there?”

"One of our Dwarves was nearly thrown from a roof for rearranging someone's forge."

Wilford smiled. "They'll do that too. But only to outsiders."

"Dwarves could pass for bearded squat children." Anton shrugged. "If you squeezed your eyes just right, that is."

“And that goes for women as well.” Wilford continued. “I’m not questioning whatever’s going on with all of you, but I wouldn’t even hold hands in Frindal. Don’t even be too familiar with each other.”

“I’m starting to guess that this place has a problem with any kinds of homosexuality,” Anton said dryly. “The Gays…”

Wilford nodded at Mezot and Axia. “You two, as mother and daughter, at least I assume you are, are probably alright. You’ll probably still get some odd looks.”

“Even us?” Calo asked, raising a black brow. “We’re Dark Elves-”

“Should be alright.” Wilford shrugged. “Don’t start throttling each other with your tongues and you’ll be fine.”

“I think we get the idea.” Anton shook his head. “Hopefully, as outsiders, they’ll give us a little leeway.”

Wilford clicked his tongue. “They can be a prickly people. Especially those on the coast. The nomads in the centre are much better, but you won’t find them anywhere near these ports. They…They don’t get along very well. There’s a whole bunch of messy and bloody history between the two. They really don’t even see each other as belonging to the same…group.”

Wilford smiled nervously. “Whatever you do, don’t tell them they’re the same. That’s a very quick way to get yourself killed.”

"I don't plan staying in Frindal itself for too long anyway, if there’s little of note."

A cry came from the crow’s nest. Land slowly rose above the horizon.

"And neither will you. My destination is the Feral Beast-kin in the east. I want to see the Lamia’s…Anyway, while we do that I want you to sail to your next destination. What's a good destination from here?"

"Probably...Probably the Holy Kingsland. They're not too far away, and we can stop back in The Dwarven Isles, stock up on supplies and sell some goods we buy here." Wilford smiled. "We won't even be leaving the port. The Dwarves are a little more forgiving of indiscretions. A little bit.”

“Umikgruid seems pretty nice,” Verona said. “But…But I don’t know about the other clans.”

Cetina shrugged. “They seemed pretty rude and arrogant to me. But that was to Umikgruid when they were wondering where their smiths were. But they were much nicer on the surface.”

“Exactly.” Wilford smiled. “Everyone’s nice and kind when there’s money involved. Not so much when they’re going to lose it. But, in all seriousness, you’ll need a guide to get anywhere in Frindal. Beyond the coast things get very dry, very fast. There are springs and oasis’s, but you aren’t just going to find them on your own. And I’d hate for you to die out in the desert.”

We can just make a water skin produce an infinite amount of water. Still, I don’t want to be wandering the desert for weeks, only to get killed by a scorpion.

“And your Sultan friend has such a guide?”

Wilford shrugged. “Only one way to find out. Oh, but you need to make sure that you don’t get someone that works for the Sana Vākara. They’re religious fanatics of the worst kind. They’ll probably encourage you to make a mistake so they can extort money from you. Or worse. The more heretics and unbelievers they find the more prestige they get. All lovely stuff."

"Using religion to make money.” Anton scoffed. “Things don’t change.”

"But they have giant armies. The Frindals, not the Sana Vākara. Armies that put anything the Shattered Kingdom’s can muster to shame. They’re not the best equipped or trained but there are a lot of them. Every man learns how to fight as part of their youth, it's only natural their forces are strong."

Something washed over Anton. It felt identical to him touching Ghlyirl, though to a lesser extent than the helmet. His heart raced until he realised everyone else was suffering to some degree; Verona and Kal looked confused, Cetina tapped her eyepatch while Mezot and Axia were in a mild state of panic. Calo and Sheso looked completely unaffected, their concern was directed at their concern and discomfort.

“What is this?” Axia furiously scratched at her arms. “I-I can’t. What is this? It feels like my mana is being stopped. Its so thick.”

Mezot was just as confused. “I have never felt something like this before…”

“Like there’s a tiny piece of Ghlyirl touching us simultaneously.” Anton mused.

Wilford frowned as he looked between them. “Why…Didn’t you know that Frindal has some sort of magic dampening field?”

“No.” Anton stood up. His tail’s charge was left unaffected by the dampening effect. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I thought you knew.” Wilford continued to frown, his eyes slightly narrowing. “I was wondering why you were bringing mages to Frindal. I thought they were just powerful mages and you were going to push through the dampening…”

“Did you know anything about this?” Anton lightly tapped Mezot’s side.

Mezot remained silent. She was too engrossed in the sensation to respond. He lightly bumped her again, her head snapped towards him, not out of anger but curiosity.

“Did you know that Frindal has a mana dampening field?”

Mezot blinked. “I thought you knew.” She looked at her Charm. “I thought you were experimenting with Principle Magic…”

Anton softly sighed. “I think in future we all need to plan a little better. Even if it’s simple or common knowledge we should not presume anything.”

“What is creating this field?” Mezot rose to her feet. She opened her hand and cast a simple icicle magic. It emerged from the ether like normal but Mezot’s frown deepened. “My magic is not impeded, only my ability to use mana efficiently. Considerably more mana is required…This is incredibly interesting.”

Anton summoned a small fireball. “It’s easily four times as much mana for me.”

“No mages in Frindal?” Kal asked.

Wilford shook his head. “There are some, but most want to work anywhere else. No one wants to struggle to learn in such an oppressive place.”

“That would make the other powers far less likely to invade them,” Anton said. “Large traditional armies make more sense...”

Wilford titled his head, waiting for Anton to finish but it never came.

Since our new weapons don't need magic to function it should be an easy victory, should we ever fight. I hope we don't. We have no reason to right now. Atros still isn't strong enough to fight another power. For now, at least.

“What about the portal?” Verona leant forward. “Does it still work? Will it…Fail? And scatter bits of us across the world?”

“Does this field extend across the entire continent?” Anton asked. “If it does then we might not be able to get to the Wild Beast-kin.”

“I’ve heard it doesn’t,” Wilford said. He waited for Mezot to add something but she was far more interested in her icicle to notice. “But that’s just hearsay. I could be wrong.”

“I’ll check,” Cetina said. “I’ll see if it still works. If-”

“If it doesn’t then you could be killed.” Anton stepped behind an oblivious Mezot and held Cetina’s hand. “And you don’t need to be told why I don’t want that to happen.”

“I’ll go,” Calo said. “Just step through and come back. Right?”

“But if it doesn’t work you could die,” Anton said softly. “And not pleasantly. It could just stop halfway through and, I don’t know, your blood arrives before you do.”

“It’ll be fine.” Calo lightly punched his arm. “Besides, we haven’t done much recently. We’ve only been in one battle, sort of, so we can do this.”

“I’d still-”

“Calo will be more than willing to do it,” Sheso smirked. “I’ll stay here.”

Calo stuck out her tongue. “At least I’m willing to do something to prove that I’m willing to do more than just hide at the rear of the battle.”

The two began a staring contest while everyone watched in silence. Verona tapped his chest and motioned for him to lean down.

“If something happens out there with those two, just be gentle with them.” Verona winked. “I’m sure that nothing will…But you never know…”

“What are you saying?” Sheso asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anton stood upright. “But…I do want the portal tested, but not at the expense of one of my friends.”

Calo jabbed her sister’s side.

“So I’ll send a summon through first.” Anton began to walk towards the stairs down to the lower decks. “And when I’m back, Wilford, I want to know everything about this Sultan friend of yours.”

---[]---

Anton was glad to be standing on the solid dock of the Frindal port city. Cetina, Mezot, Axia, Calo and Sheso were joining him, all were equally relieved to be on solid ground, especially the Graterians. Wilford and a few sailors had joined them but Verona and Kal were staying with the ship. Since the portal proved functional, Calo suffered no side effects other than a very nasty headache, they would pass back through once The Snowberry had reached open water.

“Be safe!” Verona shouted from the edge of the ship. “Tell us if you’re in trouble! I’ll send Rasha through. She’ll knock out anyone giving you a hard time.”

“Contact us when you stop for the night.” Kal frantically waved. “I want to hear what you’ve found.”

“Oh. And bring back some good food! I want to have some of these spices Cetina was talking about!”

“I will!” Anton returned the wave. “I’ll see you all real soon. Probably tonight. Maybe we’ll have some more friends to come back with us!”

Verona’s smirk spoke more than words ever could. They gave a final wave and retreated from the railing. If they didn’t they would probably spend quite some time shouting things back and forth.

“Come on.” Wilford nodded towards the city. “I’m sure the Sultan already knows I’m here.”

“If you’re really a wanted man we don’t know you,” Cetina said softly. “We’ll just turn away.”

“I understand.” Wilford frowned at Anton. “How do you train someone to be so…Aggressive?”

“Only aggressive to people she doesn’t like.” Anton turned around and clapped his hands, pointing them at Mezot and Axia. “Now, you two, especially you two, cover your charms and don’t wander off. Especially you, Mezot.”

“I wouldn’t…” Mezot trailed off as her daughter repeatedly jabbed her in the side. “I won’t.”

“Use this.” Wilford ripped a few loose pieces of cloth perched underneath a stack of crates marked with the symbol of the Frindal Emirate. Seeing the symbol elicited a groan from the Dark Elves lips.

Axia thanked Wilford as they wrapped it around their Charms. Walking around with the large staffs would still draw attention, infinitely less than with their metal and gem-encrusted Charms on full display.

“If memory serves me he should be in the city itself…That way.” Wilford pointed to a large cluster of tall buildings, Anton was unsure which it was. “If he’s still in charge, that is. Leadership in Frindal is…Fluid. At the best of times.”

“Probably a good thing.” Anton mused as they began walking down the dock. “At least for the rest of the world.”

The Frindal port was slightly larger than Alcanares but the buildings were radically different than any of those on their home continent. What struck Anton first was the dock itself. They walked over immaculately laid large hexagonal stones with smaller squares filling in the blanks. The centre of each square held the emblem of the Frindal Emirate, once a brilliant blue paint covered it but that had been worn away with time, while the hexagons were rather plain but well-furnished and had survived intact with considerable foot traffic and crates and supplies constantly being dropped on it.

Next were the people of Frindal. Their skin was somewhat darker than Cetina’s, darker than anyone in Bebbezzar, and all those on the dock looked weathered and had tiny lines of salt on their hair. Compared to most people’s Anton had so far seen they appeared to have far more body hair, though it could have simply been that they did not shave their beards as often as those from his continent. He could not see one without a large beard. Most were not impressive, rather had been allowed to grow as long as they did not impede their work. He was glad to not see any Beast-kin slaves amongst the dockworkers, who gave them a curious glance but quickly returned to their duties.

“At least we won’t draw too much attention.” Anton mused. “At least on the coast.”

Cetina did not look so sure.

Wilford led them towards the wall cradling the dock and separating them from the city itself.

“What’s the name of this place?” Axia asked. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Khoradeh.” Wilford almost smiled. “It’s not the capital of Frindal but it’s a major port city. I don’t want to go to the capital. Far too noisy for my tastes, but you can get just about everything you want here. Also, it’s the furthest east that accepts foreign ships. I don’t think we can just take The Snowberry and dock in some poor fishing village. The poor people will have a heart attack, or think it’s an invasion or pirate raid.”

They approached the outer wall of Khoradeh. It was fashioned from large sandstone blocks with many elaborate spires along the top of the wall, designed more for atheistics and not for defence. Only one gate allowed traffic through to the city, an odd economic choice for a city, but there was undoubtedly some reason.

“There aren’t any market stalls,” Anton said.

“What?” Wilford slowed.

“In all the other ports I’ve been in there’s usually someone that’s trying to sell us something. Even if it’s just fish they’ve literally just caught.” He waved his hands towards the rest of the docks. While the people were hard at work, loading and unloading supplies, there was little in the way of commerce. “Does everything have to happen inside the city?”

“Yes. That way the Sultan gets his fair share.” Wilford scoffed. “Taxes. No different. But that’s the way they want to do things and that’s the way it’s going to be. Unless you want to be like him.”

Wilford pointed to a young man struggling to carry a small chest. At first, Anton couldn’t understand his difficulty. When the man nearly dropped the chest he understood. Several of his fingers had been removed. Cleanly too, no rough edges or signs of an animal attack.

“Criminal?”

“Possibly.” Wilford shrugged. “Or maybe he was caught trying to sell something outside of the market limits.”

“Surely you can talk about selling something and not have to do it there.” Sheso stepped up her pace. “Like buying a house?”

“Of course you can.” Wilford smiled. “But I wouldn’t dream of giving money to the man outside of the market area.”

They joined a long line of people entering the city itself. Again something bothered Anton.

“I can’t see any women.” He said softly to Cetina.

She looked back and immediately pulled closer to Anton. The men behind them were glaring, a bizarre mixture of shock and dismay with an undercurrent of anger.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Wilford said, more so to Cetina. “Women tend not to be soldiers here.”

“That’s hardly my problem.” Cetina stared back at the men until they shied their vision away.

Slowly they advanced to the front of the queue. The guards looked remarkably similar to those they had seen from the Frindal delegation in the Graterious Imperial Palace. These did not wear armour or wield weapons as impressive as those but they still looked formidable. Anton could tell from Cetina’s stance that she thought she could take all four at once. Anton did not doubt she could, whether or not she would slip into her trance state was another thing entirely.

“And what are northerners doing in Khoradeh?” A guard asked from behind an open visor. Despite his deeply tanned skin, Anton saw the distinct redness of sunburn around his eyes. He doubted the man moved much for the entire day.

“We are here to see Sultan Hazm el-Hamad,” Wilford spoke calmly. “We have business with the Sultan and I’m sure he will be more than glad to see me.”

Anton wondered if that was true, but they did need a guide through these lands, a guide that wouldn’t be a secretively religious fanatic waiting to gain prestige or extort money.

“I don’t know about that…” The guard shrugged. “But so long as you don’t cause a fuss inside that’s none of my problem. So long as you pay your toll.”

Wilford mumbled and stepped to the side for Anton to pay. Anton did not care too much, he was going to be paying for everyone else anyway, and paid the meagre toll. While it was rather little he noticed that the women, meaning everyone bar himself and Wilford, had to pay almost double.

Not the time for moral grandstanding. Worst that happens is that they just have to cover up a bit more.

The guard returned his change and looked over Mezot. “Just be careful. Some people can have issues with people like you.”

“Then I’ll give them a taste of my sword,” Cetina said softly. “I’m not going to let anyone push me around because I’m a woman.”

“Not that…” The guard sighed and ushered them forward. “Just try not to get into anything stupid. The laws here are not the same as Bebbezzar or Graterious.”

Oh, so they know which places we come from? Must have quite a few traders then.

Anton gave the man a curt nod as they passed through the gate and into the markets. Life and activity swarmed before them, a bustling and crowded swarm of humanity desperately trying to sell or hawk their wares. Large pieces of brightly coloured cloth extended out from the tops of the stalls, almost reaching the next stall, creating a narrow path for the bright light to stream through.

“Come on.” Wilford waved them forward. “We’re just going to draw attention if we’re standing here. You can come here and shop if you want once we’re done.”

Anton agreed and silently motioned for the others to follow. Calo and Sheso were no longer slack-jawed at seeing so many people, after visiting Alcanares markets, and followed Anton and Cetina closely. Mezot and Axia were only slightly stunned by the sight. Anton knew they had seen busy markets in Graterious, especially in Boreana, but these were different, not just in appearance but also smell too.

“Come on.” Anton waved them forward. “We can come back when we’re done with Wilford.”

The two glanced at each other and quickly joined them. Criers shouted at them to purchase their wares, piles of spices of the full spectrum of colour sat in small raised wooden boxes, more open stalls sold simple weapons and armour, fashioned for the dry and hot climate. Many sold trinkets and everyday necessities, none of which interested Anton. He continued to glance over his shoulder. The twins held the rear and made sure Mezot and Axia were safe in the middle. Thankfully they attracted only a little more attention than anyone else.

Behind the market stalls Anton saw the first Frindal women. They dressed heavily, wearing brightly coloured full length shawls with swirling and floral patterns along with a type of headscarf that wrapped around their head, enough to hide their hair and protect their forehead from the sun. A thin veil covered their mouth and nose. Small pieces of silver and gold jewellery were attached along the bottom of the cloth covering the mouth, acting as weights and decorations. A band of a light brown wood ran along the nose to support the cloth.

Below that the layers of cloth, a surprising choice in such a hot climate, almost reached the ground but not quite. Anton could just see that she wore simple boots, just like the Frindal men, but these were smaller and adorned with a simpler pattern to the shawl. The shawl’s long sleeves covered most of their arms, however the woman had a single arm free. A tight cloth wrapped around her arm, again in the same pattern as her shawl albeit a darker shade, up to her wrist. A gold band was fastened to her wrist, from that the tight cloth extended to the base of her middle finger and a smaller golden ring.

“Interesting,” Anton said softly.

Cetina leant around him and followed his line of sight. The woman frowned slightly as she looked back at Cetina.

“Those are some beautiful fabrics,” Cetina said. She tapped Anton’s side. “Do you want to buy some for home? The seamstresses would love to work with that, since they’re normally just using wool or even Ulyaa’s silk.”

“Are you interested in this?” The woman spoke loudly in a slightly sultry voice. She ran a bare hand over the cloth covering her mouth and the edge of the shawl around her shoulder. “We have many types of cloth available for purchase.”

She moved to the side and showed off rolls and rolls of fabrics nearly identical to the material she wore. Many caught his eye, Anton wasn’t a fashion aficionado but he knew what he liked.

“I’m afraid that we cannot stop right now.” Anton smiled. “But I know that we’ll definitely have a look when we’re done with the Sultan.”

The woman almost took a step back. A Frindal man, wearing loose simple clothing, with only a small shawl of bright cloth, peered from behind one of the hanging rolls and looked rather concerned. Mezot and Axia were enthralled by the bright colours but Anton ushered them forward.

“B-But…” Axia stammered. “But-”

“We’ll be back and we’ll get something pretty.” Anton stepped back and ushered them forward. He had to hold their shoulders tight to get them to move. “I promise you both.”

“Alright,” Axia muttered.

“I…” Mezot seemed particularly impressed by some of the blue coloured cloth.

“We’ll come back,” Anton whispered into her ear. His breath brushed against her ear, causing her whole face to turn red. Anton gently patted her shoulder and pushed her forward. Anton gave a final wave to the Frindal woman and continued following Wilford.

It took them several minutes to leave the sprawling market, even though they were not impeded by the thick crowds, and into the actual city beyond. The buildings were tall and made from the same sandstone as the wall, the richer areas were adorned with bright blues and gold covering their exterior. Most of the buildings had a terrace garden. Like Seocuria there were several small awnings with flowing and small flowering plants. There were no plants on the ground level, not even small flowering pots. Anton wasn’t sure why but he knew there was certainly a good reason.

Just like the port guards had said there was absolutely no sign of any kind of trading or selling beyond the loose boundary of the markets. Many Frindal men and women passed them by, wearing the same style of clothes as the merchants, and only gave them a cursory glance.

“I don’t see any beggars,” Anton said. He looked along the narrow alleyways between the tall buildings. “And none of the people look particularly poor.”

Wilford chuckled. “It’s incredible what a few pieces of cloth can do. Most of the people you’ve seen aren’t that rich, their clothes just last a really long time. But there are beggars…Just not where any visitors can see them. Unless they want to become a salve. Or a Fighter…”

“Fighters?” Anton asked, followed shortly by the Dark Elf twins in unison.

“It’s a form of entertainment.”

Wilford waited until they reached a crossroads and pointed deeper into the city. He pointed to a large circular building, a type of colosseum, with large Frindal flags flapping the breeze. Once they stopped he could hear cheering and shouting echoing from the colosseum.

“Very profitable.” Wilford smiled. “If you’re looking for a good place to gamble that’s the place.”

“I seem to…” Anton scratched his chin. “Are they fights to the death?”

“No! No, by the gods no.” Wilford continued walking towards the Sultan’s residence. “Very rarely in fact. You can’t have good matches if your best fighters constantly die. Well…Sometimes they have slaves fight to the death but that’s only for special occasions. Like the marriage of the Sultan’s son. Something like that.”

“They celebrate a wedding with murder?” Axia asked dryly. “I thought that weddings were supposed to be good, happy things.”

Mezot looked slightly despondent.

“Weddings tend to be either way,” Anton said. “Either they’re great or an absolute disaster. Tons of relatives getting into petty arguments…If you’re drunk and watching the carnage it can be great fun.”

“Was your wedding like that?” Axia trotted next to Anton. “With Verona and Kal? I bet that was interesting…”

“I haven’t actually had a wedding yet.” Anton ruffled Axia’s hair. “But at least with them, I don’t have too many relations to worry about.”

Axia merely threw him an odd look as they continued walking towards the Sultan’s residence. The houses became taller and more affluent, at first there were only sporadic guards outside of homes but as they neared their destination almost every building had a small cadre of guards. These looked to be of a better quality than the guards at the dock but none moved from their positions as they passed. Their job was to stop intruders, not harass passers-by.

Wilford stopped before a large iron gate surrounding a particularly ostentatious building. A line of shield baring guards stood outside, behind the gate stood another line of archers.

“Okay.” Wilford clapped his hands. “Just don’t do anything stupid and we’ll be fine.”

“I can still use magic,” Anton said. “As can Mezot and Axia. But don’t think that they’ll risk their lives for you.”

Wilford planted his hand on his hip. “You’re being rather aggressive.”

“You didn’t tell us you were in trouble with the local lord,” Cetina spoke with no emotion.

“We’ll be fine.”

Wilford cleared his throat and tried to approach the guards with a measure of confidence. He knew that the guards had been watching and listening but tried to play it off.

“Greetings.” Wilford bowed low. “My name is Wilford. I wish to meet Sultan Hazm el-Hamad. I have unresolved business with him.”

One of the archer guards silently turned and walked to the building. He spoke with a Frindal woman, wearing more gold and silver than any he had seen in the city. The woman entered pried the door open slightly and slipped inside while the archer waited patiently outside.

Cetina tapped his side. “They don’t look like they have any sort of magical protection.”

“I can barely use magic.” Anton mused. “How’s your eyepatch holding up?”

“So far, so good.” Cetina smiled. “It’s a little annoying, like it’s out of focus, but I can still fight.”

“I wonder if the Sultan knows anything about the mana dampening field.” Anton looked at Mezot. “Do you know if the United Empire managed to conquer the Frindal’s?”

Anton quickly glanced at the guards. They gave no sign they were interested in their conversation but he knew they were listening intently to every word.

“I believe they did,” Mezot said softly. She too threw worried looks to the Frindal guards. “But I don’t know much else.” Mezot sighed, holding her staff tight. “I didn’t get much time to explore the Academy library before I…We had to flee.”

“A good question for the Sultan.” Anton saw the door open and the archer return. “Perhaps we can convince him that we’re here for research purposes if we sound like academics.”

“You do have two Principle Mages with you,” Axia said softly.

The archer guard spoke with a shield guard, one who’s armour had small adornments of gold.

“The Sultan will see you now.” The Guard spoke softly but with authority. “But you will need to leave your weapons at the gate. No exceptions.”

“What about us?” Mezot asked. “I…”

“What of my friends?” Anton nodded to Mezot and Axia.

“Their staffs as well.” The Guard frowned. “Though magic is far more difficult in Frindal it is not impossible.”

“I guess that’s a yes.” Anton lightly sighed. “But can our safety be guaranteed?”

“The rules of hospitality require us not to harm guests.” The guard frowned lightly. “But we will defend ourselves if attacked.”

“I understand.” Anton turned to Cetina and leant close to her ear. “Keep a blade or two.”

Cetina nodded as she unfastened her sword and her dagger. The guards appreciated how quickly and willing they were to follow their rules. Two archer guards pulled the iron gate open but did not move to allow them passage. They accepted Cetina’s weapons, not checking her armour plates for her hidden blades, Calo and Sheso’s short swords, not checking for the numerous small blades they kept on their bodies, at least Anton hoped they did, and Mezot and Axia’s staff. One guard briefly opened the cloth wrapping and was quite surprised by the Charm lying within.

“That is extremely expensive,” Anton said. “I’ll be holding you personally responsible should they be damaged in any way.”

The guard nodded once before taking the weapons into a small guardhouse. Anton did not hear the metal clang so he hoped they were being treated with care.

The two guards pulled the iron gate and allowed them to pass. Large ponds and fountains lay just beyond the wall, large flowering trees immaculately maintained by a single gardener.

“Does every ruler have a desire to make a beautiful garden?” Anton wondered aloud.

“It’s their way of showing off,” Cetina said. “At least I think it is. Having something like this is not cheap.”

“Or maybe they just like flowers and water?” Anton shrugged.

At the front, the Frindal woman waited patiently. She was considerably younger than the guards, not surprising given that she was some sort of servant of the Sultan, but the blue and purple shawl and matching long headscarf caught his eye. Her soft brown eyes studied him closely. She said nothing, opened the door, held a low bow and motioned for them to enter. Wilford went first, everyone else remained close to Anton.

After stepping a few meters they arrived in yet another garden. The Sultan’s residence was essentially a ring of small rooms surrounding the multi-tiered gardens. Plants cascaded from small awnings from the uppermost levels while trees grew up through the centre. It provided a large amount of shade for the many large tables and chairs nestled amongst the flowers. Books and scrolls covered the largest table, a Frindal woman with a light brown shawl and headscarf, slowly organised the books. She was older than the one from the front, perhaps middle-aged, but moved with incredible grace. Several Frindal Guards patrolled the upper and lower levels in groups of two, one with a shield and spear, the other with a small but powerful bow. They spared the guests a glance and continued on their patrols.

“And where is this Sultan Hazm el-Hamad?” Anton asked softly. “I can’t see anyone except the guards.”

“If it’s him then he’s probably still asleep.” Wilford smiled. “He’s a chubby boy, so he won’t be up until mid-day.”

The blue shawled woman closed the door and walked to just a few paces behind them. Her skin was a little darker than the other Frindal woman’s but Anton did not have much time to really look. A door at the top of the level opened. The Sultan emerged, led by another Frindal woman wearing a brown shawl and headscarf, and held his hand against his brow. He looked similar to the other Frindal’s; a tanned skin, thick black hair and brown eyes. Unlike the others, he wore white cloth and a very small red shawl over a portly belly. A tight turban, also made from a red cloth, covered all of his hair while a small golden emblem of the Frindal Emirate lay at the centre.

“Wilford?” The Sultan’s voice was somewhat husky. “Is that you?”

“It is.” Wilford smiled. “I’ve finally come back to Frindal and I thought I should visit you.”

“You’d damned well better have.” The Sultan picked up his the hem of a long shirt and raced to the stairs.

“Get ready,” Anton whispered to Cetina. He glanced back, the servant with the blue shawl had not moved in the slightest. He seriously wondered if she was trained in any sort of combat or if she was merely a servant.

“After all this time,” The Sultan’s shoes slapped loudly on the staircase under his weight. “You decide to show up now?”

“I’ve been stuck in Graterious.” Wilford gave no sign he was worried as the Sultan reached the bottom level. “A few issues with debtors-”

“Did you try and sleep with someone’s daughter again?” The Sultan’s faint smile did not match his words.

“She wasn’t your daughter.” Wilford frowned and folded his arms. “You barely even knew her name.”

“But I was unfortunate to see your wrinkled, hairy behind.” The Sultan spat on the ground and continued walking, the older woman’s eyes flicked to the spit and all Anton could see was utter revulsion. “That was more than enough to send you packing.”

The Sultan stopped just before them, less than half a meter remained between them. He was not a particularly tall man but he stood like he was important. Truth be told he was, it was just interesting that he didn’t act overly important.

Finally the Sultan’s face cracked into a great big smile. He opened his arms and brought Wilford into a hug, once heartily returned.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” The Sultan rocked back and forth as he continued to hug Wilford. “I’ve missed hearing your stories and all of those rare things you could get me.”

The Sultan parted from Wilford. “My collections have grown old and stale without you to ply the seas.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Hazm.” Wilford smiled and patted his shoulder. “But I’ve given up on the smuggling trade. Too much risk, especially when things go awry.”

Hazm scoffed. “You should have just found your way here. After all you’ve bought for me I would have more than happily let you stay here until things calmed down. By the Sun, I could have given you a ship to get you started again.”

“Well, I’m thankful for your offer.” Wilford stepped to the side. “But these are the people that bailed me out. They were…” Wilford’s brows twitched. “More than kind enough to pay for everything. And provide me a ship.”

“A ship?” Hazm raised a bushy brow. “Not a little sloop, is it?”

“No. It’s pretty big.” Wilford smiled. “And it’s not rotting and falling apart too.”

“Well…” Hazm stepped further to one side. “Aren’t these people very generous then?”

Anton did not know if he was supposed to speak or not. He smiled faintly as Hazm’s gaze shifted to the women behind him.

“Very interesting.” Hazm nodded appreciatively as he looked at Calo and Sheso. “Very interesting. Now, please, all of you should have a seat. There’s no reason for all of us to stand.” Hazm looked to the sky. “Is it almost time for lunch?”

The woman with the brown shawl stepped forward. “It is, Sultan Hazm el-Hamad.”

“Excellent.” Hazm clapped his hands. “I always think better on a full stomach, and it always puts me in a better mood.”

No sign of any money being brought up. I suppose that’s a good thing.

Two additional Frindal female servants emerged from the lower levels and cleared the book covered table. The blue shawled woman helped, Anton saw Hazm glance at her with a strange look in his eyes, one that Anton did not understand.

“So…” Hazm took his seat, padded with comfortable cushions. “Tell me Wilford, who are these people that would be so willing to give you command of a ship?”

The Frindal servants prepared chairs for each of them, even the one with the blue shawl. Cetina politely declined hers and stood behind Anton. Mezot and Axia sat on one side, Calo and Sheso on the other. Mezot moved her chair very close to Anton and kept a wary eye on the numerous guards still patrolling the upper levels.

“My name is Anton.” Anton held his hand to his chest. “And this is Cetina, Mezot, Axia, Calo and Sheso. Think of us as researchers and academics. We have a particular interest in the Wild Beast-kin to the east of Frindal.”

“With the Ferals?” Hazm raised his brow. “What could those creatures possibly do to interest you?”

“A personal curiosity of mine, I guess you could say.” Anton smiled. “But I have never been to Frindal before and this land is completely foreign. I’ve been told there are oasis’s and small springs scattered throughout the land but I have no idea where they would be. At least in my homeland there is always a source of water.”

“I see…” Hazm’s eyes flicked to the blue shawled woman. “Still seems a long way to come to find Beast-kin.” He looked at Calo and Sheso. “Surely you still have them in Seocuria, no?”

“They…”

One of Anton’s hands was still under the table. He raised it to stop them from speaking.

Perhaps it’s best he doesn’t think they’re Dark Elves. We never did find out if the Green Moon were raiding Frindal shipping.

“That is true.” Anton continued. He received an odd look from the twins but they kept their mouths shut. “But I wish to see these Wild Beast-”

“Ferals,” Hazm interjected.

“Why do you call them that?”

Hazm rested the side of his head on his hand. “You’ve come all this way and don’t know that?”

“I know them as Wild Beast-kin. But there is obviously some reason that they’re called Ferals.”

Hazm looked for the other servants. He could only find the blue, to which he clicked his tongue.

“I suppose they’re getting something for us to eat.” Hazm shuffled in his seat. “They know what I like…The Beast-kin are called Ferals because they are exactly that. They do not respect any Frindal authority. Both the Emirate and the Nomads. Every attempt to conquer them has resulted in failure. A terrible failure.”

“Still doesn’t explain why they’re called Feral.”

“Because of the Lamias.” Hazm chuckled. “Snake people. I’ve only seen a few in the arena, and not for the past few winters, but I’ll never forget it. The way they fight…Utterly brutal and without remorse.” Hazm leant forward. “I’ve seen them crush six armoured soldiers, soldiers armoured like you northerners like a rotten grape. Truly terrifying.”

Again, still not worthy of the moniker. But I don’t think I should push further.

“I haven’t seen any Lamia.” Anton gently rubbed his beard. “They’ve all been killed in Seocuria for quite a long time.”

Hazm laughed. “If, if you wanted to see a woman that can shake and twirl her hips like a snake you should have just said so. I can direct you to a Pleasure House that can cater to those whims.”

Anton’s thoughts drifted back to the Pleasure Houses of Seocuria, the places where Marion, Kristof and Rasha were being trained for. He brushed them aside and focused on the present.

“I-”

“Though I find it odd that you’re surrounding yourself with so many women.” Hazm leant close to Wilford. “Is this normal for you northerners? It’s been a very long time since I’ve visited Graterious or Qaiviel.”

“They seem to be an outlier,” Wilford replied. “But I’ve never seen anything…untoward from them.”

“So…You want me to direct you to someone that can act as a guide through Frindal, through the Nomads, and somehow talk to the Feral Beast-kin so you can…” Hazm rolled his hand, signalling for Anton to finish his sentence.

“Study them. See what has changed between the two groups after being separate for so long.”

Hazm waited for Anton to continue. He leant forward and cocked his head. “This…This seems like a very expensive endeavour for you to undertake.”

“It is. But we are being funded by the Graterious Royal Academy.” Anton waved his open hand towards Mezot. “I have a Master of the Academy to accompany me and record everything that we discover.”

“Strange…” Hazm’s gaze fell on Mezot. Finally, a smile crept over his face. “But who am I, of all people, to judge?” He loudly slapped his thighs. “I think that can be arranged. Especially since you helped my good friend Wilford.”

“What about…” Axia shrunk as the Sultan’s gaze fell upon her. “Wilford mentioned something about the Sana Vākara…”

“Bunch of religious zealots.” Hazm scoffed. “But you are right to fear them, young lady. They are not people you wish to entangle yourself with.”

“But aren’t you the Sultan?” Axia had gained a measure of confidence. “Doesn’t that mean you’re in command of Frindal?”

“All of Frindal?” Hazm laughed. He laughed so hard that tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. “Oh…Oh, the people you’ve found are great. Absolutely great.”

“A Sultan is something similar to a Lord,” Wilford said while Hazm tried to calm himself. “Hazm owns Khoradeh and the surrounding towns and farms-”

“Owns is a polite way of putting it.” Hazm leant forward. “The structure of Frindal is different from what you northerners have. So long as you support the Padishah and his interests they really don’t care who is a Sultan. There are only sixteen of us…But I think that I might be the longest lasting one. So far at least.” Hazm stretched his arms over his head. “Just goes to show how great I am.”

“Can someone challenge you for your position?” Cetina asked.

Hazm’s eyes narrowed. “You…You would do very well in the arena. Many men are terrified of fighting a woman in armour. And you look like you’ve seen some battles. It’s a great way to earn some extra coin…”

“I will pass,” Cetina said calmly. “Protecting Anton is reward enough.”

Cetina gently patted his shoulder. Hazm raised a brow but shrugged.

“None of that matters to me. But anyone can challenge me for my position.” Hazm’s face turned more serious. “But there are some rules. And I can offer a champion in my stead. No one has tried in many winters.”

“Is it a Minotaur?” Anton asked. If Hazm’s champion was anything like Rasha there was no way any human could compete.

“No!” Hazm chuckled. “I’ve thought about it. No, he’s just a normal human. And no, he’s not my son or anything like that. He’s just extremely well paid to be my champion.”

“If you can buy him surely someone else could?”

“The only person that could have that much money is another Sultan, but a person can only have one…Sultan…I don’t know what the right word is.” Hazm shrugged. “Basically put there is always sixteen Sultans and sixteen people. I also give my champion access to as many women as he can get his hands on, not that he seems to care for them too much so long as he’s fighting. It’s when he’s not that there’s problems.”

A small door opened at the far side. Three Frindal women emerged carrying trays of fruits and breads. The selection looked very good and Anton was interested in tasting Frindal cuisine. He couldn’t see any of the brightly coloured spices but he reasoned they were to be used with main meals rather than a spattering on fruits.

“Ah.” Hazm rubbed his hands. “Excellent. Dried Dates and Figs! Perfect! I know you’ll love these.”

The three Frindal servants placed the succulent and delicious looking fruits onto the table. Anton was tempted to let the others eat first but there was every chance it was poisoned. As he motioned for the others to wait for him Hazm had already started eating alongside Wilford with wilful abandon. Anton still ensured that his magical poison protection was still working and took a bite. The dates were incredibly juicy and delicious but there was no sign of any poison. Anton gave them the go-ahead but also to be careful and not to eat too much.

“So…” Hazm wiped his lips with the back of his hand. A servant produced a thin piece of cloth for Hazm. “Ah, thank you. Now…What were we talking about before that little detour?”

“We were talking about a guide through Frindal through to the Feral Beast-kin.” Anton finished the date. “You’re right. This is very good.”

“It is.” Hazm quickly finished another mouthful of fruits. “Am I right in thinking you’re a mage?”

“We are. Mezot is a Master Ice and Water Principle Mage and Axia is a Novice Fire Principle Mage. And I have…certain other magics.”

“Certain other magics?” Hazm leant as far forward as possible. “Come on, you can’t tease me like that.”

“I can use Fire and Lightning Magic. And a type of Healing Magic.”

“A very powerful healing magic,” Axia said. Almost immediately she shied away, trying to become as tiny as possible after her outburst.

“Healing you say?… Well, I think I can help you.” Hazm smiled. “If you do two things for me. One. I want to have ice cold water and dates.”

Anton looked to Mezot.

“I can do that,” Mezot said softly. “If-If I have my Charm.”

“Of course.” Hazm dismissively waved his hand. “Not a problem. Not a problem at all. The second thing that I want, before I get you your guide, is that I want you to heal my Champion. He has an upcoming duel, not on my behalf, and I could lose a great deal of money if he can’t compete.”

“So that’s how you’re so rich?” Anton said smugly.

Hazm smiled and shrugged. “It’s not wrong to bet on your own man to win? But he has torn a muscle. Can you heal that?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. Even in Frindal…” Anton leant forward. “Why is magic so hard to use in Frindal?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Hazm continued to eat. “You’d have to ask the Padishah. I’m sure he would know something. All I know is that the further you travel west the worse it gets. Near the Akura Mountains, I’ve heard it’s almost impossible to use any kind of magic. Why? I don’t know.”

“Does it have anything to do with the United Empire?” Anton asked with a small fig in his mouth. He looked to Mezot. She was busy nibbling on a large fig like a rabbit, so was her daughter. The twins were devouring them as if they had only escaped from the Green Moon Fortress. “My expertise does not touch them, I thought someone here might know more.”

"Possibly," Hazm said. "But the workings of an ancient and long defeated empire has surprisingly little impact on what's happening today."

You'd be surprised just how much history affects the present. Or you do know that and just don't care.

"Another of my curiosities. Now, if my companion has her Charm returned to her I believe we can very quickly fulfil your first condition."

"Wonderful!" Hazm furiously rubbed his hands together. "It's been far too long since I've had ice-cold water."

---[]---

Mezot focused all of her attention on controlling the small shard of ice in the large container of milk. After Hazm had finished his cold water, swallowed it whole was a better descriptor, he asked for one last ice-cooled beverage. Mezot was more than happy to comply. If anything she was thoroughly enjoying the restrictions that Frindal placed on her. The three brown shawled servants brought out more food while the blue waited patiently near the door. Anton thought it very odd that a person would be reserved for opening and closing doors.

"Done." Mezot's voice echoed with triumph. "That is as cold as it can possibly be without freezing."

Anton could already see the shimmer on the surface as the water slipped between frozen and liquid.

Hazm rubbed his hands together once more and politely ordered one of the servants to pour the chilled milk. They obeyed without question and Hazm greedily downed each goblet as it was filled. Everyone merely watched in silence until it was all gone.

Hazm raised his hand after wiping his face clean. "That...That was incredible. Do you know how hard it is to keep something cold in Frindal? Damned near impossible, not without a very skilled Ice Mage."

Mezot's chest swelled with pride at the obvious flattery.

“If you ever think you are in need of money you should just sell this.” Hazm smiled like a child at the empty goblet. “People would come far and wide for this. Gold would flow into your pockets like rain…Not that I’ve seen much rain in my lifetime.”

Anton leant towards Mezot. “When we get back we’ll have a serious talk about this. I think you can really help me and Atros.”

Mezot smiled sweetly. “Of course I’ll help you.”

"But...Alright." He slapped his legs again. "You've done the first task I've asked of you. My champion's at the arena right now, so-"

"Forgive me for interrupting." Anton raised his hand. "But who would you recommend as a guide?"

"Who?" Hazm smiled. "Her."

He nodded to the Frindal woman with the blue and purple shawl.

"She...She is an interesting story. One I'll gladly tell you on the journey."

"Are we to walk?" Sheso asked.

"No! I would not be caught walking through the streets unless my life depended on it. And that hasn't happened since-"

"Since you lost that wager against that Nomad." Wilford cracked a smile. "We had to hide in that brothel. We were almost caught too."

Hazm smiled at the oldest of the brown shawled servants. "But she managed to escape that life. Right?"

"Only because he thought I was entertaining two squealing boys." The woman smiled. "He gave us a lecture that we should only take adults. But...Surely you didn't mind it?"

"That's one way to put it." Hazm winked at the woman. "But...Where was I? That's right. We'll take my sedan. The...How do I put this delicately?"

"No women can ever travel in a sedan," Wilford said softly. "They consider it a great insult."

"Not even for comfort?"

"Well, there have been a few times. Hard to enjoy yourself when there are twenty people just outside." Hazm leant back in his chair. "Or are you going to tell me these five women are your comfort?"

One is. But I've another three back home. And they are all very comfortable.

"No. But-"

"It's alright," Cetina said. "We'll follow right behind." She looked up at Hazm. "I presume you won't be moving very fast?"

"Walking speed. I could order the men to go faster but the chance of falls increases so much."

"Very well then."

Hazm turned to the brown shawled servant. "Is there a match on today at the arena?"

"There is." The woman lightly bowed her head. "I believe Fareed has grown tired of the Hamtaro and has sent them all to die in glorious combat?"

"All of them?" Hazm's eyes squinted at her as his head pulled back. "Even I find that a little cruel. It's not like they did anything particularly wrong."

"And what are Hamtaro?" Sheso asked. She lowered the date she was about to eat. "I've never heard of them before."

Hazm smiled. "If you're interested in the Ferals then I'm sure the Hamtaro will tickle your fancy." Hazm leant back, resting his chin on his propped up hand. "I'm almost certain."