The bells chimed from the corner of the inn as two strangers entered, each one basking in the warmth inside, hiding from the damp cold. Mayur glanced at them, curious of who the grey-clothed individuals were. One was obviously older, complete with a whisking beard and a roughly-made white turban. The other appeared to be a young man, though he still kept his baby face.

From the villages perhaps, he mused, swirling his half-full cup of sugarcane juice. Mayur enjoyed these sorts of games, the ones where he’d have to guess from what walk of life an individual came from. Sometimes it’d be easy, at times it’d be a bit difficult, but that was fine, at least there was a game to play on the down-time. Mayur glanced down to his cup and watched as the green fluid formed a vortex, the white bubbly layer slowly popping from the pressure. Ever since Mayur had left home, there wasn’t any other game he could play in these parts.

“We should get going Mayur.” He turned, finding Aaklav already dressed for the occasion, complete with a black cloak. “He said to return by the end of Meerai and we’re already one week off. Sides, if those goons come…”

Mayur waved his hand. “Relax Aaklav, there’s still a few more places to get to before we head back. Sides, the warmth in this inn is unbelievable. I honestly can’t believe a serai like this exists.”

“You think it’s warm, yet I think it smells.” Aaklav sat next to him, calling out to a young maid to fetch a cup of water. “They use too many oil lamps. And… are you sure you want to take the risk?”

“Well,” replied Mayur, chuckling. “You’re complaining and yet you’re sitting down. What happened to getting back to Gahkhpur as fast as possible?”

“Yes, but from toiling with you for the past three months I know for a fact now that it takes you all morning to drink down the same cup of sugarcane juice.” The servant handed him his water. “Also, you should know that you drink an absurd amount of it, you could get diabetes!”

“Diabetes?” Mayur raised a brow. For the few months they were together selling salt, Mayur had never spoken to a Taal as knowledgeable as Aaklav. On one hand it was a blessing having an intellectual with him, but on the other it made him prone to hearing these odd terms flying about. “What’s diabetes?”

“It’s when you have a high concentration of sugar circulating in your blood and it ends up weakening the insulin response in your body, making it harder for the sugar to enter your cells.”

Mayur blinked. “Excuse me, what? Insulin? You honestly believe that?”

“Well Vishar had said it was the truth because Bhagat had told him so and the theory made sense, so it must be true, right?”

Mayur placed down his drink, hearing the cup make a low noise on the wooden table. “Don’t get me wrong Aaklav, but do you honestly believe that he or Lord Gahkhar knows everything? Including the secrets of the human body?”

“From all the books he wrote, yes, I’d think so.”

“Absurd. Even if Lord Gahkhar wrote the books, that doesn’t mean he knows everything.” Mayur glanced at his drink, the juice having calmed to a lull. “How can there be any proof of this? Is there even any proof? Have you seen anything that confirms it to be true? Like this cell that you speak of? What does it look like? Are we made of cells? Are they all the same in every part of our body? What about our souls? Are they also composed of cells? Do they even exist?”

Aaklav downed the entirety of his cup and gently it on the table. “Well, if you put it that way… I don’t know.”

Well there you have it, Mayur scratched his head. “Then how can you say it’s true?”

“Well… I don’t know, but I think it’s true. The theories make sense at least.”

Mayur glanced towards an oil lamp in front of him, watching as the flame flickered, throwing the light into a frenzy around the shrouded darkness. Perhaps it was because he was more of a traditionalist, whereas Aaklav seemed to be a Kashaari atheist.

“I’m confronting you on this because I know no one will accept Lord Gahkhar’s theories without proof. So find the proof to change the way people think.” Mayur waved his hand. “Anyways,” he replied, downing his sweet drink, “we’ve got a long day ahead of us. Let’s go.”

The two of them rose from their seats and marched out, the bells on the door again chiming as they strode on out and into the serai grounds. The idea of the whole system was fascinating. A walled compound, complete with a stable, general store, an inn and a wheelwright, placed in the middle of the land where towns were void for at least half a days’ distance. It was a business opportunity to be exploited.

Mayur approached the stable, feeling the cold winds suffocate him for breath and forcing his head to turn away for air. These serai establishments were typically family-owned and, depending on the movement of goods and travelers, generated high amounts of revenue. The one he just entered was a clear indication of this. He had paid a silver and 10 copper for each room they rented for the night and the rooms were packed. This family alone, from the inn operations, probably banked at least 50 silver in a single night. This estimate didn’t even consider the four silver he added on top of it all for the storage of his carriage. Of course, salaries and supplies would cost a lot for a family enterprise like this, but at the end of the year they might have made ten times more than a farmer in Lohaan’s interior.

The two of them each led their horses towards the shack that kept their carriage, making sure to avoid the puddles of mud that littered the wet, dirt ground. The horses didn’t care though, jabbing their hooves into the puddles, the splashes getting onto Mayur’s cloak. He cursed, then grumbled as his foot sank into the ground. The light rain was bad and the mud was worse, but at least it hadn’t got onto his shirt.

“‘Ello boss,” said a voice from the back.

“How was guard duty?”

One of Lord Gahkhar’s men came from around the back. “Painful, but at least there was a good blanket for the cold.”

“My apologies,” replied Mayur, scratching the back of his head. “These wares are… important after all, wouldn’t want anyone taking them.”

The warrior waved his hand. “Aigh.”

“Where are the other two?”

“Their over there sleeping,” he said, pointing towards the back.

Mayur and Aaklav together fastened the horses into place and climbed into the back of the carriage, making sure not to step on the sleeping men to the sides. Inside were a few barrels fastened at the back to prevent accidental spillage. Mayur reached to the back, where the last of the salt was stored and opened it’s lid.

“One barrel left,” spoke Aaklav.

“Same here. That makes two then.” Mayur turned. “We started with 10. We sold two barrels in Anastalaat and six barrels in Surajpur. The last two we could sell in Kahlpur.”

“But there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

Mayur fastened the seal on the barrel. “What do you not understand?”

“Why are we purposefully undercutting our prices by a few gold? Wouldn’t the quality of our salt alone be enough to increase our market share?”

Mayur closed the lid on the barrel. “Yes, it could. But we want to shock the market, and, to prevent the merchant families salt from being bought up the next time, we have to undercut them. That way, the private merchants in Surajpur and elsewhere won’t think of buying their salt if they can just get it from us. Sides, the salt from the merchant families is incredibly expensive because they source it from Bauka and it’d be difficult for them to compete with our prices in the long-term, especially since we make a slim profit to keep this business structure going.”

“Ah!” shouted Aaklav. “I see it clearly now. Was this your plan?”

Mayur walked up to the front, taking his seat at the helm. “No, it was Lord Gahkhar’s plan,” he said, whipping the harness to motion the horses forward. “But do tell me, I never heard of a lord think about making profit. Usually the princes in Ajaad tend to look down on merchants as a sort of petty profession, a dirty but necessary operation.” The carriage rolled over the mounds of wet mud, the horses complaining of their struggles, their neighs rising into the cold air. “Why would your lord be so enthusiastic about such an enterprise? And why is the hierarchy here in Lohaan so… how should I say it? Unordered? Undharmic? In what land do merchants have the status of lords? It’s a bit shameless I’ll have to admit… especially since they tried intimidating me once.”

Mayur again looked down to the soil. He’d like to imagine the streaks of lines the carriage left, imprinting it’s presence into the Earth’s memory, would fade away upon the flashes of rain the monsoon left in it’s wake. It, for one, symbolized his travels towards attaining greatness in a stagnant part of Ajaad, hoping to one day take what was his in Diwan. And yet it also scared him since they were going against the merchant families and, despite having Lord Gahkhar’s men with them, Mayur had a feeling they would be ambushed.

They passed through the gates, making their way towards Kahlpur. Sprinkles of rain fell from the sky, a prelude for the cold, sinister monsoon that would come later in the day.

This part of Ajaad was completely fragmented, divided between petty warlords and opportunistic neighbors who took advantage of whatever situation arose to seize land. And it wasn’t like the rest of Ajaad, either. It was Sudhist-majority, a faith he tried his best to understand back in Diwan and yet couldn’t, since it was far too young for Asmaani scholars to properly document. Even now, he felt like he was merely looking in, rather than being a part of, the lands society and tradition.

“I can’t say what happened for Lohaan to become as… different, as you say.” Now they strode into the wooded forests, a signal of their entrance into Kahlon’s territory. “I only remember when Vishar and I marched to report to Lord Gahkhar the few days after we lost. The way he conducted himself completely shifted in one day. It felt wrong in a way, but reassuring nonetheless. And then we took Gahkhpur. And then he taught a Taal like Vishar so many grand things. And then Vishar taught me, another Taal, the things he learnt. This isn’t some accident. Something has changed in Lord Gahkhar, a miracle of some sorts, like when the Mahabsas were saved by the grace of the monsoons. Or maybe that’s an exaggeration, who knows? I feel we are on the verge of a new era, Mayur. There’s just no other way to explain it.”

“A new era, huh?” Mayur whipped the harness, hearing the neighs of the horses shriek into his ears. “If you ignore the fact that there’s no longer a unifying dynasty over all of Northern Ajaad, that petty princes fight amongst themselves out of selfish interests and that in all of these 20 years nothing has changed, then yes, this might just be a new era. An era of decline. At this rate, another pretentious bastard from the Horidnozai could march down and take Kahanee, then we’d get the umpteenth Haraan dynasty in this bloody land.”

The cold wind rushed instinctively, as if answering the horse’s call. Mayur turned his head around.

“An era of decline?” questioned Aaklav. A scarf wrapped around his neck as he poked through the curtain, gazing towards the frenzied leaves and muddied path.

“That’s what my Asmaani teachers taught me.”

“To be honest, Ajaad has always felt the same for us lower-castes. Nothing has chang—

“Boss!” shouted a warrior. “I hear somethin’!”

Aaklav’s voice fell silent in an instant. Mayur turned his head around, trying to make out the faint steps approaching. Something approached, the sounds like a horse galloping at full speed. Then came the heavy neighs.

I can hear horses. With that checked off, he slid his hand into the cloak and reached for his weapon. Either they were innocent travellers, or the goons he was anticipating for. Blast that lord, to think he’d want to cause trouble so early on with these merchant fools.

When he first heard what Lord Gahkhar had done in his arrangements with the merchants, Mayur had asked if he understood what he was getting himself into. In what World would a weak party intentionally forge a document for the stronger party to willfully sign? It wouldn’t end well at all.

Mayur gripped at his weapon. This better work, I don’t want to die today.

“Halt!” shouted a voice. A horse dashed through the bushes flanking their left.

What the hell? Mayur halted the horses and watched as the figure revealed his face, carrying a long blade in his hand. No… He widened his eyes. Planky, yet firm with the same cold voice. It’s—

“Hello again, merchant.”

Damn. Mayur gulped.

“You didn’t forget who I was, correct?”

“Boss, is there a man up fro—

Mayur raised his hand, signalling to his warrior to remain silent.

Either I play dumb or I confront him. He knows who I am.

“Well, you don’t seem like talking? Isn’t that right brother?”

Another set of bushes rustled rightwards and, accompanying a few curses, the same bulky man showed up.

Lord Gahkhar said to capture the men for ‘evidence…’ but that’s harder said than done. Mayur smiled. “Well, how are you fine men doing today in the middle of Kahlon’s territory?”

“Ah, we’re doing just fine. Actually, we just happened to learn that you hadn’t left Lohaan like we had politely instructed you to do a few months ago. Instead, you have the balls to sell high volumes of salt at a fraction of our costs and, since my masters are quite displeased with your new —oh, how should I say it— employer, they’ve asked us to teach him a little… lesson.”

Another set of shouts rang from behind.

“Oh, those are our boys. We’re going to kill you off and take your wares.”

“Ah, I see.” Mayur kept his brimming smile. “Well then, who exactly instructed you do this this?”

The man smiled back. “That’s none of your business.”

This bastard. The faint drops of rain began to pick up. “If your master demands my death, then it is my business. After all, who else has the mundane desire to kill a man? Quite a laughable thing really, when one has to kill to make his fortune in trade.”

“Mundane?” The two approached the horses.

Closer.

“Brother, we may need to rip his nails before we kill him.” Said the other.

Closer. Mayur pulled his weapon from it’s holster.

The bastard smiled. “You’re very right brother.”

And checkmate. Mayur drew out his pistol. “Now!”

He pointed towards the bastard to his left and pulled the trigger, feeling his pistol kick back as the end of the barrel let out vivid crackles.

“Fuck!” cursed the man, stumbling to the muddy trail as his horse dashed away.

Oh God. Mayur coughed from the ensuing cloud of smoke coming from the end of the barrel and the pan of his flintlock. As the smoke quickly cleared up, he could see the blood splatters in the mud, unsettling the horses.

“You motherfu—

Another bullet rang from Mayur’s right side and hit the bastard’s brother.

“You alright?”

Mayur turned, finding Aaklav behind the cloud of smoke.

“Your lord said there’d be smoke, but this much!”

More shots rang from the back.

“We got ‘em,” shouted a warrior from the back.

“Good job!” shouted Mayur. He leapt off the carriage and placed his hand on one of the horses.

“Good girls. Honestly, I don’t know what your lord did to you, but for you to withstand that, is incredible.”

“You fucking merchant,” muttered one of the men on the ground. Mayur turned his gaze to the fool who beat him back in Surajpur. “How dare you! If our master hears of this, he’ll—

“He’ll what? Hm? No, no. Pray tell me. But let me ask you this. Are you stupid? If anyone hears of you threatening a merchant enterprise sanctioned by the Lord of Gahkhpur, do you know what kind of damage will happen? And I think your masters understand that much, it’s the reason why they wanted you to come here and kill me. It’s to send my lord a message without getting caught.”

He waved at Lord Gahkhar’s men. “Tie them up and treat their wounds. And forget Kahlpur, we’re going straight back to Gahkhpur.”