Jorish wondered, what was it like to burn? A silly question, he knew. What else would it bring but pain and suffering? Yet it was a fact, a reality. One that nobody could do anything about.

His mind wandered as he slowly made his way to the burning. Yet, he didn’t have the luxury of being absent-minded. His nose twitched as the smells of trash and remains succeeded in shaking him out of his stupor. He kept his focus, lest he step on something he would rather avoid.

He wouldn’t go through the slums if he didn’t have to, none would. He had to attend the burning. He knew more than anyone what ignoring it would mean.

Unfortunately, attending it was not easy. If you happened to live in the southern parts of the city, you didn’t have much of a choice. Jorish thought about the deadly sun that hung outside the cities, cursing his luck as he kept walking.

Most people made the right decision. They evaded the sun’s blazing waves as they endured the stench of the filth-riddled slums, as it threatened to send anyone who dared to bask in its glory for too long to an untimely end.

The sun-touched cities moniker was not for naught. Jorish appreciated the human ingenuity, adapting and building the cities. Those cities that allowed the dweller of the cities to survive the unforgiving world, and resist the anger of the sun.

Jorish ran through the haphazardly constructed slums, appreciating their chaos. Random clothing and objects hung between the poorly, tightly constructed buildings. Coming together to cast a stride of shade for the unfortunate to trek through. He felt hints of cool air hitting his face as he ran, appreciating the coolness as it bled from the rich districts. That wind was the lifeline of the cities as the people fought off the unceasing warmth.

Jorish's mind was filled with envy as he remembered the transports moving outside the cities. They have it too easy. The rich didn’t have to go through the hazardous slums, yet everyone had to appreciate not having to confront the sun outside, appreciating the blessings of the existence of those slums.

Those slums were both a blessing and a curse. Jorish’s nose twitched as the smells almost caused him to gag, yet he walked carefully. He was careful to not allow himself to show any weakness, lest the unruly inhabitant of the slums decide to pay him a visit. In his frustration, a thought went through his mind. If everyone used those slums to move, why wouldn’t they take care of them for once?

He knew that was a dumb question. Why would anyone? Any who lived in the slums was either a lunatic, a thug or someone who the world decided to forsake. Someone who was closer to dead than alive.

Those with the influence and power necessary to clean up those areas were the exact sort who would never have to be there anyway. As for the rest, like Jorish,the answer was even simpler. If you didn’t live in the slums you too would avoid spending even a moment longer than you had to in there. At least I know I would. Snickered Jorish

Jorish thought of the sun, threatening to overpower the preparations they had to take another soul. He thought of the thugs who laid in wait to ambush any who looked like an easy pray, to rob them, murder them or even worse. And for what? Jorish wondered, thinking of how your efforts would be pointless, whatever vain efforts you put in would be undone quickly by its inhabitants.

As Jorish moved on, the smells got fainter. His mood lifted as he glanced at the spotless streets; their sights informing him of his arrival.

He had taken that road hundreds, if not thousands of times but getting out of the slums never lost its bliss no matter how many times he took that trip. He grimaced.

His steps pushed him towards the city center, he was suddenly assaulted by the stench. No matter what you did, having thousands packed in a spot would always have the same result. Jorish disregarded the smell of blood and sweat as he traced the line of sight of the crowd.

This wasn’t his first burning but he could never truly get used to it.

Jorish felt his senses get overloaded as he took in everything around him. Sounds rang in his ear, shouts from the crowds and the sizzling of steel as it burned the condemned. His eyes glanced over the thrashing bodies that laid across erected metal poles, thrashing as they were burned by the heat. And worst of all were the cries of the condemned as they begged.

They were not begging for forgiveness, they once did, but not any more. Jorish heard them begging, hopeless. Begging for death. Jorish knew it was pointless; they would suffer until the sun reached its apex. Only then would they be no more.

As Jorish watched, he felt his head thrashing as the noises, scents, and sights overlapped in his head. He shook, as memories threatened to flood him. He hated the burning, even if he had to reluctantly admit that it succeeded at what it was created for. Jorish swam in his thoughts as everything went on. His emotions piling up higher and higher, as they threatened to drown him.

Fortunately, it was time. As the sun stood on the horizon, the governor stood proudly as he gave a signal. The guards stood around the prisoners, tears of joy boiling off this faces. Beams of light launched from the metallic eye in skies, piercing their heads, granting them peace. Finally, silence returned as people dispersed going on with their day.

Jorish wandered around as he battled his thoughts and emotions. With nothing to do and the recent burning in his mind, he felt like a mess. He kept walking with no destination guided by his feelings, as he walked facing his hatred and weakness, trying to escape his own self. He moved without a purpose, a living corpse.

Jorish stopped as he was expelled from his trance. He stared forwards absently. He had lived in this place, this city for his entire life. Yet, in front of him, he glanced at the sight in front of him.

Two men stood in front of him, Jorish looked at their clothes in outrage. In the midst of the scantily clothed southerners, they stood with endless layers of cloth all over their bodies. Jorish could barely understand it, dwellers of the cities would avoid wearing anything they didn’t need, since any extra clothing was a higher chance of dying from the heat as you get cooked in your own sweat.

Yet, what shocked him the most were their faces. Their fair skin didn’t lie when it informed everyone that they were outsiders, Foreigners. Their fair faces contrasted the dark brown you would see from the southerners.

One of them wore a dark green cloak. On his belt, Jorish saw a sheathed sword, not the most uncommon with all the dangers for any traveler. He noted the unusually wide sheath before shaking his head. He was not a swordsman, nor was he knowledgeable enough to judge. But he had seen a sword, and that sheath just felt abnormal for a normal sword.

Underneath the cloak, the foreigner wore black garments that looked thick and warm, conflicting with everything Jorish knew about dressing in the cities. The darkness of his clothes was contrasted by a flash of silver coming from something deep inside the black folds of the inside of his cloak.

The cloaked man looked to be in his 40s with his dark brown hair and middle-aged face. However, Jorish wouldn’t judge anyone’s age too hastily; It was common knowledge that you could nurture and cultivate your body and energy to stages that would give you the strength of a Giant, and the lifespan of an Elrich.

The cloaked man’s companion had a completely different, yet equally outrageous look. He wore a light brown overcoat that covered his white shirt and black pants underneath. He looked like what Jorish imagined a navigator would look like, except that a sea was one thing you would never dream of finding anywhere close by.

On his belt, he had two curved handles inside their sheaths on one side. Could they be those "pistol" things I heard to be common in the islands? Jorish wondered as he continued watching the foreigners. On the other side of the belt, was a thin sheath that held a sword.

Jorish gaped, trying to grasp the scene in front of his eyes. It was just too insane; it was very rare to find people from other nearby cities coming here to trade, but a complete stranger? that was just incomprehensible, especially as they looked to be from somewhere in the west or central lands, years of travel from this place.

As Jorish’s thoughts went astray, the cloaked foreigner turned around and looked at Jorish, a smile appearing on his face as he walked towards him. Jorish glanced at his companion as he gave a reluctant conceding look before he followed along.

"Hello foreigners, excuse me for my rudeness and lack of courtesy. We don't get many visitors in these lands." said Jorish.

"Ah I don't mind it, I don't mind at all! No offense is taken. I mean since I didn't have to run away being chased by every able man, woman, and child, I consider this a satisfactory reception. Man, the Stone edges were fun!" replied the foreigner almost longingly as his companion shuddered. Seemingly reliving some deep trauma before the cloaked man continued.

"We are just travelers who go around, on a quest to see every place, experience and taste every food in this realm. I have been around after I was done checking some nearby areas so I decided to take a look at the famed cities. I did consider going towards the trade hubs to the north of the cities, but I feel like they can be a bit… unauthentic to the experience to say the least. Do you get me? Ah, might I mention this before I forget, mind helping guide me for this day? If you are not busy of course. Now that would be magnificent! Now, how about you tell me.."

He would have rambled on if not for his companion interrupting him.

" You have no idea how much I wish you could actually forget Traves... How many times do we have to go through this? Can you stop bothering any and every person who catches your attention? Don’t forget that it is always your fault that we got chased around every single time. I would appreciate it if I didn’t end up getting hunted in every single place we go to…” said his companion as he turned, facing Jorish “I must apologize dweller of the cities for disturbing you, and for any disrespect caused by my ... companion here"

"Not at all, mayhaps we lack courtesy but let it never be said that we of the cities lack hospitality, regardless of the lack of opportunities for us to show that. I don't have much going on today so I will be happy to guide you around. My name is Jorish. What may I call you both?"

"I am glad you agreed to help us Jorish! I really appreciate it. You can call me Traves, and my companion here is Cail. It has been a pleasure to meet you!" Replied Traves while shaking Jorish’s hands as Cail sighed, his face reflecting his thoughts.

Here we go again.