Original Prompt

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Originally written July 19th, 2026
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Chapter 136

The background rumble of the refugee caravan was finally gone, and the silence of the desert settled in around Anatu and their group. They lead tonight, riding well ahead of everyone else except for Iuven, who was near to help Anatu keep an eye on their surroundings.

With the lad’s sharp eyes on the horizon, Anatu let their own gaze drift side to side. They’d left their torch unlit for the time being to preserve their night vision. Kebb would give them an earful for the sacrilege later, but he was bringing up the rear of the caravan today. There was a chance he might not even catch them.

The starlit sands drifted by in peaceful quiet. It had been many nights since they’d felt this at ease.

No Kebb breathing down their neck. No Cass contradicting their every word. No Glaukos cracking his annoyingly silly jokes. If they were alone together, Anatu might laugh again and they did not want that embarrassment.

Having Maar up here to talk with would not have been unwelcome, but the silence was, itself, enjoyable. A lovely reprieve from the arduous journey they found themself on.

Closing their eyes for a short while and letting the camel simply walk forward, Anatu listened to the silence. The distant sound of conversation behind them was near enough to inaudible that Anatu could ignore it.

Inhaling slowly through their nose, Anatu smelled the desert. The earthy scent of cooked sand radiating heat upward as they passed by.

They exhaled slowly, and their breath was loud in the night. It was easy for them to understand why foreigners often thought the desert was a place of death.

Wind whispered over the dunes. A flapping of wings nearby. Anatu caught a puff of sand atop a hill when they opened their eyes. A hawk wrestled with a lizard as a second reptile skittered down the sandy slope and vanished into the shadows at the base.

Well that seems like an omen, Anatu thought. Whether it was good or bad would be for time to tell. They weren’t particularly superstitious, but the feeling was instinctual. Their mother was always looking for omens and signs from the gods. It had motivated them to look as well, as a child.

Now though?

Now I’m alive because Grandfather wanted to hedge his bets, they thought bitterly. Their hands tightened on the reins of their camel.

They breathed in again. Grounding themselves. Letting the thoughts of their family pass through their mind and out of their head.

The head of her grandfather was in a box a few dozen meters behind them.

They gritted their teeth as the memories bubbled up again. They needed to see it. To see him. They didn’t know why they needed to, but they couldn’t fight the feeling. It pulled at them, like a chain constricting around their chest, drawing them backward.

No. I can’t. That wound would never heal. Seeing their grandfather again would not be the same. But the fact that he was right there was consistently gnawing at their psyche.

Their mother would call them a coward for not exercising their right as a royal. Their fathers would reprimand them for taking the word of a drunken slave over the evidence of their own eyes.

Anatu had not seen the head. It could be a lie; a ruse. Cassandra might have been less drunk than she seemed and planted the seed specifically to give her a reason to send Anatu away, or worse.

Would she need a reason? Her grandfather’s wisdom whispered in her ear. There were an infinite number of explanations Anatu could come up with, but nothing made sense other than Cassandra had been drunk and let slip what she shouldn’t have.

It was by far the most believable result.

Which meant that, balance of probability, her grandfather’s head truly was in the box. It was on the wagon. Anatu could see him again.

Anatu would see him again. They just needed a moment when no one was looking.

Iuven and Maar can go scout the perimeter when we make camp, they thought. Kher will cook. I can have Glaukos help Cass and Charis with setting up tents. Nuu and Nuut will stick to themselves. I can have Mica keep an eye on Nuut, that is becoming more normal than not.

What to do about Kebb?

The narcissistic zealot was nigh impossible to control now. Anatu needed him to look away while they slipped into the wagon. Something to do with the Flame and Helen would be easy, but if Anatu asked him to make a call to prayer then he would expect them to join in.

I could have him talk to Cass… but that would only buy me moments, not minutes. She rubs him wrong almost as much as me.

Anatu pondered ways to distract Kebb as the leagues slowly passed underfoot, with no good idea coming by sunrise.

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Notes:
- It has been 13 in-universe days since Chapter 1

Original Prompt

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Originally written July 12th, 2026
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Chapter 135

Nuut kneaded her fingers on the wagon wheel while she looked out over the refugee camp. Darkness had fallen and the endless sea of tents was aglow with torches and campfires. This little detour was delaying the journey and if they did not begin moving soon, the caravan would not even clear this sea of the displaced.

Which would lead to further delays.

Circling the cart slowly, and dragging her fingers lightly across the smooth wood, Nuut felt an irregular scratch. Examining it out of boredom, she noticed it was no mere chip in the wood, but a series of small gouges by a knife or dagger. A familiar pattern; an upside-down triangle with two dashes on either side near the top.

The Vultures were here.

She looked around for another sign. Motion in the corner of her vision drew her attention and she saw a grey-brown scrap of fabric vanish around a tent.

Nuut made her way back around to the front of the car,t to tell Mica she was going for a walk, but the demure Chollish woman was already sliding off of the wagon.

“We’ve got an unwanted guest,” Mica said, her voice pitched low. She didn’t want it to carry.

Nuut matched her tone. “The tent?” She twitched her knee in the direction she had planned to go.

“You saw them too?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” Nuut rolled her eyes. “You watch the cart, I’ll see to them.”

“You sure?” Mica glanced down at Nuut’s brass pegleg. Nuut gritted her teeth in frustration.

“If others come, you are more able to chase them off. And I need to vent.”

Mica nodded her head side to side, shrugged, and said, “Fair.”

Nuut left the cart and peeked around the tent. A hooded figure rose from sitting on a small barrel and walked away. Nuut made to catch up and pursued the stranger as they ducked into a different tent.

She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring neither Mica nor any other strangers were following, then entered as well.

Darkness and still air greeted her. The warmth of another body close. Her hand slipped to the sheathed blade at her hip.

Sparks lit a small oil lamp. The tent was revealed in its dim orange glow. The hooded man moved the flame to light additional candles.

“Fifteen leagues,” he said quietly. “There will be a small valley between five dunes that is excellent to make camp.”

“Shhhh.” Nuut covered her lips with two fingers. “One of my caravan is near.”

“We know of the Sister-wife of Tzel who travels with you,” the Vulture said, gesturing at the flames. “Her eyes cannot penetrate the light, and her ears will be kept at bay by my men outside.”

Nuut glanced back at the tent’s entrance. She had seen no one outside, but that meant little if they were doing their jobs correctly. For the sake of not liking feeling surrounded, and to keep Mica from coming looking for her.

“Fifteen leagues?” Nuut hissed, lip curling. “Even if we leave now we can’t make that distance in a night.”

“Two nights.”

“Two nights,” Nuut repeated, biting her thumb and nodding slowly. “That can be done.”

“It will be done, or our deal is off. We cannot wait in the desert forever, not even for such a prize.”

He waved his hand dismissively. Nuut bristled at the gesture, but ducked out of the tent and checked her surroundings.

Still no soul in sight.

Back at the wagon, Nuut found Mica sitting atop the canvas, looking about.

“Find him?” she asked.

“No,” Nuut lied. “Go find the rest of our people, we need to start moving.”

“Not interested.” Mica slid off of the wagon and landed in a crouch. “Why don’t you?”

“My leg hurts,” Nuut said, curtly. “And I doubt you, or Anatu, or anyone wants me to go and try to say anything to the wahsh when I’m not in my best possible mood.”

Mica nodded her head side to side. “Fair point. But remember, Cass isn’t the only wahsh you travel with.”

Nuut raised an eyebrow curiously, staring at Mica who met her gaze. When Nuut blinked, Mica was gone. She looked around in alarm only to find the short Chollish woman behind her.

“I’ll find everyone and send them back. Your arms don’t hurt, so you can make sure all of the camels are ready.”

Mica made a rude gesture to Nuut as she walked away. Nuut made an equally rude expression at her back.

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Notes:
- It has been 13 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Fifteen leagues is approximately fifty miles - Mica’s abilities and title were revealed in Chapter 72

Original Prompt

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Originally written July 5th, 2026
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Chapter 134

Cass was glad that Charis gave her a chance to walk and talk through the refugee camp. Finding a moment of peace with them these last few days - a moment when they were both of a mind to talk - had been strenuous. But now that they were together again, words were failing her.

She knew what she wanted to say. Apologies were easy, just an “I’m sorry” was all it took. But it felt like far too little for what she’d done. The conversation looming over the two of them was like a jigsaw of words and actions that she needed to do the right way or else ruin… whatever this was.

“Relax, Cass,” Charis said, putting their hand on her forearm. She looked over at them. Charis smiled. “You’re clenching your teeth.”

Cass took a slow breath and relaxed her jaw. “You’ve known me less than a week, but you can-”

“I’ve known you almost two weeks,” Charis said, their tone light and jovial as they looked ahead again.

Cass sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“How can I know what you mean if you don’t say what you mean?”

“Because you cut me off.”

“Did I, now?” Charis asked, tilting their head to the side and looking at her with a smirk.

“Yeah, I was trying to say that you’ve only known me a little while but you’re already-”

“Becaues if you wanted to apologize to me for the way you behaved, I certainly wouldn’t stop you.”

“I’m trying to!”

“Are you?”

“I-!” Cass caught herself. She look at Charis’s raised eyebrow and smirk. Pursing her lips, and closing her eyes, Cass inhaled slowly through her nose and counted backwards from ten, exhaling near the end.

She had been wanting to apologize, but she had not been about to. She’d been about to go off on some jive about how long they’d known each other and reminisce over the last several days together. But that wouldn’t have built up to a proper apology.

“Fine,” she said. “Charis, I’m sorry.”

They nodded.

“I’m sorry for… well, for being an ass.”

“Thank you,” they said.

“And I’m sorry for scaring you,” Cass continued, “and for being drunk. And for drinking despite when you told me how you felt. And for snapping at you when you were just trying to help me with… with everything.”

“Thank you,” Charis repeated, lacing their fingers into hers and gently squeezing. “I forgive you.”

Cass smiled and squeezed back. She’d thought it was a gentle squeeze, but the wince and quick yelp from them told her it was too much.

“Oh shit! Sorry about that.” She let go of his hand.

“Ahh, yes. I forgive this, too,” Charis said, flexing their fingers in front of them.

“Are you ok-” Cass walked into a man who was staggering past, knocking him over. “Burn it,” she muttered, looking down at him. “Sorry fellow, are you-”

The man on the ground threw a bottle up at her. The glass cracked against her head and shattered, spraying red wine all over her face.

“Hey!” Charis yelled, grabbing the man by the collar of his cloak and pulling him up to his feet.

“Leggo ‘v me.” The man was noticeably drunk and flailed in Charis’s grasp. Cass reached over and grabbed him out of their grasp, lifting the drunk up one-handed. He kicked and slapped at her, but she barely felt it

“Are you okay?” Cass asked Charis, who nodded.

“Put me down!” the drunkard howled. Cass obliged, dropping him. He stumbled as he landed and took a knee, but stood up and wobbled. “Who’r you?”

“None of your business,” Cass said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t you stagger off somewhere else?”

The guy’s glassy eyes looked back and forth between them, his face - dark and sunburnt, with a scraggly wisp of a beard - slack, dry tongue trying to moisten dry lips.

Cass knew that feeling. The pleasant tingle in the nose and lip when drunk out of her mind. She wanted to let this guy get on his way, so she took Charis’s left arm in her right and turned.

“You two Vultures?” the drunk asked, bending down to pick up the neck of the now broken bottle. He held it loosely as he stood; a clear threat.

“No,” Cass answered brusquely.

“Fffff,” the guy worked up some phlegm and spat it out. “Idun believe yeh. Yer robes’r too nice. Y’ain’t been on the run from’m like what us ‘ere is.”

“Excuse me?” Cass couldn’t parse the words.

“Vultures! Attacked Salach!” he roared. “‘Say the leader’s a biggun wit’ hic scrawny arms,” the drunk man said, swaying on the spot.

“I’d hardly call his arms ‘scrawny’,” Cass said, squeezing Charis’s substantial bicep.

“Not ‘at’un.” He jabbed a finger at Cass’s bandaged left arm and spat on the ground in front of her. “You.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Where’s the rest’a it?”

The sudden grip sent shockwaves of pain up through Cass’s arm and knocked the breath out of her. She dropped to her knees in agony, mouth open in a scream, spots filling her vision.

With a dull thud, Charis’s fist slammed into the side of the man’s head. He fell to the sand, letting go of her arm.

Cass cradled her arm as some guards appeared, coming to the sound of her yell. She didn’t hear what they were saying, or Charis explaining the situation as well as a couple of witnesses nearby corroborating. She was focused on the residual pain in her arm.

“Cass,” Charis said, their voice soft, hand gently touching her right shoulder. They knelt down beside her. “Cass, are you okay?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s get back to the cart,” he said, rising and helping her up with gentle guidance.

Cass nodded and followed their lead, fighting the urge to give in to the pain and rage and rip that drunk to pieces.

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Notes:
- It has been 13 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Cass and Charis had a fight in Chapter 110

Original Prompt

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Originally written June 28st, 2026
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Chapter 133

Glaukos and the others all rose early in the evening, broke their fasts on a quick meal of fresh-ish bread and jam, and packed up camp. The sun was just beginning to set when they rounded the dunes to visit the refugee caravan.

Hundreds of tents and campfires as far as Glaukos could see. He wondered how they all managed to move together without military discipline. Unlike Gahbreel’s caravan of bright white linen - all worshippers of The Flame - this hodgepodge of fleeing civilians was not united by anything Cass could see; rich and expensive encampments were beside shoddily crafted lean-tos, with no commonality of color or fabric or style to be seen.

Glaukos dismounted his camel and handed the reins to Mica, who’d already explored the camp the night before and opted to stay with the cart.

Idleness was not in his nature, though, and Glaukos was off into the endless camp. His meandering among the clusters of small, temporary homes had him soon realize that it wasn’t one, unified camp. It was actually an endless series of small groups.

He avoided circles of closed-up canopies with dead or smoldering fires, following instead the smell of smoke and the sound of voices until he found a group that was up. He’d hoped the smoke meant cooking, but it looked like a group of healers tending to wounds.

Adults and children were laying about under hastily constructed canopies while people walked between them. There was crying, but no screaming; from a quick glance Glaukos was relieved to not see any attempts to carve away anything more than an ichorous scab.

Feeling no small amount of nausea, Glaukos covered his mouth and turned away to leave, but a healer grabbed his arm.

“Stomach?” he asked, seeing the gesture. “Come here.”

The man pulled and Glaukos stumbled, following out of necessity, until he was gently shoved onto a bench, jostling a younger man beside him.

“Glaukos?” The younger man asked.

Glaukos looked at him. “Iuven? What are you doing here?”

“I was just looking around.” He shrugged. “I tripped over a rope and twisted my ankle.” The padded pack of gauss he gestured to brought Glaukos’s attention to his elevated leg. A puddle of water formed from the melt dripping off of his foot into the sand below.

Iuven asked, “You?”

“Uhh,” Glaukos looked around at some of the other minor injuries and wounds being tended to. “Followed the smoke from their fires hoping to find food, found this and felt a little queasy.”

The healer who had grabbed Glaukos returned just then, saying, “It’s because you drank the water despite the warnings.”

“Drank the water?” Glaukos asked. The healer pushed a bowl into his hand and handed him a small stack of unleavened bread.

“Yes, we’ve been telling everyone not to drink the water from the oasis,” he said, sighing and running his fingers through shaggy salt-and-pepper hair. “The rumors of its healing properties are vastly overexaggerated.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Eat,” the man said, taking one of the pieces of bread and dipping it into the red paste within the bowl. He ate the bread and chewed, gesturing for Glaukos to do the same.

He looked into the bowl and dipped the bread into the red stuff as well. Popping it into his mouth and chewing, he was surprised by how sweet it was.

“Mmm, this is good,” he said.

“Raspberry jam with some mint and other herbs,” the healer said. “Sehtyll cure from my bubbi.” He reached out and tousled Glauko’s long, curly hair. “You look like my nephew, it’ll help.”

Glaukos shared the treat with Iuven as the healer moved on to another patient. Watching him go, Glaukos said, “Maar can say what she wants about non-Shen healers, but that guy’s bedside manner is leagues above hers.”

Iuven chuckled. “Nothing intrinsic about kindness and healing, I guess.”

With a shrug, Glaukos ran his finger around the inside of the bowl to finish up the last bits of the raspberry jam.

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Notes:
- It has been 13 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Gahbreel’s caravan was encountered in Chapter 59
- Maar’s rant about healers was in Chapter 22

Original Prompt

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Originally written June 21st, 2026
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Chapter 132

Cass was sitting under the colorful fabric of Farbia of Shen’s tent once more, after the merchant had politely sent off their friends from the other caravan. The morning sun was only dimly passing through, and no flames were lit within. The air was cool thanks to a trick of how Fariba set things up to channel a breeze through without any additional sun getting inside.

She wanted to learn how that worked so she could do it with her own tent.

This time it was not just the two of them. Anatu, Mica, and Kebb were with them; a small ‘council’ formed to discuss what to make of the news from Salach. Cass didn’t like excluding the rest of the group from the discussion, but her own yawning reminded her that this meeting was hampering some much needed sleep.

When the question of who might be attacking Salach arose, Cass sighed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s probably Cit,” she said. “He was sailing north with my army and wanted to meet up.

Fariba, lounging on a cushioned chaise, raised their eyebrows inquisitively at Cass. “Your people would wreak such untoward destruction and chaos?”

“They wouldn’t let themselves be locked out of the only city in the desert,” Cass said, terse and defensive. “They might have gotten a bit antsy, but there’s no way they did as much damage as those two said.”

“Let us assume they did,” Kebb said. “The invading army, that is. Not necessarily your army. Are we certain it could not be General Ronka coming south from Keygroph?”

“Again, it is possible,” Anatu said. “But not likely.”

Mica asked Anatu, “You said Ronka’s army was mostly Desherayan, right?”

“Mostly, yes, last I was appraised of his makeup.” Anatu nodded. “That would be… almost two years ago. It’s possible that the balance of his forces have shifted, though.”

“Can’t be them,” Mica said, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

“Why not?” Kebb asked.

“I was talking to them.” Mica gestured off to her side. “The other people in the caravan. Every one of them described the invaders as rabid madmen and pale specters. Other details varied wildly, but no one would describe a Deshereyan army as madmen or pale.”

“‘Pale specters’?” Anatu asked, furrowing their brows together. “Ghosts?”

Mica shook her head and shifted her weight from side to side, chewing on her thumbnail. “No. Not the way they were describing them. They were calling them ‘lylith lavan’ and they weren’t talking about white owls. ‘Screeching night beasts’ is the closest but it doesn’t convey the terror. We don’t call just anything lylith.”

“Sounds like the Veinor,” Cass muttered, scratching her chin as she recalled the last time she’d seen those forces.

“The what?” Mica asked.

“Veinor,” Anatu answered. “A mercenary army that hails from Gymir. The Empire considered contracting them later in the war but…” They looked over at Cass.

“Buuut Helen had them working for us.” Cass grinned, humored by the Empire’s desire to use them but Helen getting to them first. “I’ve met some of them. Odd people. Real hostile. They didn’t wear armor either. Like, at all. I think I saw some of them running into battle naked?”

Anatu sighed and shook their head. “No, that’s just a rumor they spread. It makes them more intimidating but also less prone to be taken seriously before a battle.”

“But Fariba of Shen has seen them and theirs parade about their camps without even so much as a shred of attire,” Fariba said, a wistful smile as they looked upward, as if imagining something heavenly. Cass chuckled.

“That still doesn’t explain why they think they saw you,” Kebb said, gesturing toward Cass. “The Shadow of Sammos is a well enough known legend that it is highly unlikely some pale warriors would be mistaken for a creature of darkness.”

“They could be lying,” Mica suggested, squatting down and folding her hands together in front of her forehead. “They’re all afraid and on the run; some of them could be seeding rumors to redirect suspicion.”

Anatu nodded. “We did that during the war. Both sides did, in fact. The number of ‘Shadow of Sammos’ sightings was far more than the number of battles you were in, Cassandra.”

“So you think the army invading was a lie?” Cass asked.

“No,” both Mica and Anatu said.

“An army definitely attacked,” Mica continued. “We just don’t know who, or why.”

Fariba stood up and raised their hands. “This discussion is at risk of becoming circular and self-referential,” they said. “Fariba of Shen suggests we all rest our eyes and our heads and our minds and come at the situation with a fresh start in the evening. Perhaps after some of Kher’s delicious cooking.”

“Believe it or not, I agree,” Cass said, heading for the tent flap. “We’ll eat then go investigate the caravan ourselves.”

“Already did that,” Mica said, getting up to follow Cass.

“Yeah, you did. I didn’t. I’ll go ask around myself and see if we can figure out who’s telling the truth.”

“You want to go harass a bunch of war refugees?” Anatu asked, also making for the exit.

“I want to know what’s going on, and if I need to hold some people up by their ankles to get an answer, I will.”

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Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- The Veinor were last mentioned in Chapter 9

Original Prompt

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Originally written June 14th, 2026
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Chapter 131

After spotting the caravan, Cass went to let everyone else know to expect company. Kebb wanted everyone to break camp but Cass argued there wasn’t a point; if they were already spotted and the other caravan was hostile, they wouldn’t be able to finish packing anyway.

Shortly after Mica vanished around the dune, a pair of figures in red appeared at the top, overlooking the camp. Cass waved at them, and they waved back. She walked toward the base of the dune, gesturing for them to come down.

They did.

“Hail and well met!” one of them said; a heavy-set woman with shoulders matching Charis in breadth. Her smile looked forced, with pursed lips beneath wide eyes and flared nostrils, looking like she had just eaten something sour and had to pretend to like it.

Her companion was also larger-in-stature, but their slender shoulders gave them a distinctly more pear-shaped build. Long, brown hair was coiffed to one side and spiraled down past their bicep, with an equally curled mustache. Painted eyes under long lashes fluttered against the dawn’s light, which Cass purposefully kept at her back in case these two tried anything stupid.

They touched their brow and inclined their head to Cass. “I am Agas, my betrothed here is Tuppa. We apologize for-”

“I’m Cass, where-” Cass began, stopping when she realized Agas had meant to keep speaking.

Agas covered their mouth, then gestured at Cass.

She nodded and continued, “Where are you heading?”

The large woman - who’s broad shoulders and red robes gave her a distinctly apple-ish appearance - griped, “To Nihimlaq, of course. Where else is there to go in this Weya-forsaken desert?”

“Calm, ayuvapi,” Agas said softly, placing their hand on Tuppa’s forearm, caressing it gently.

To Cass, they said, “Our caravan,” they gestured backward, past the dune, “is fleeing an army that attacked Salach three days ago.”

“Salach was attacked!?” Cass asked, loudly. “By who?”

“We aren’t entirely certain-” Agas began.

“Who else? The upstart rebels.” Tuppa crossed her arms and huffed.

“Rebels? That’s impossible. I’m a-” Cass said.

“What’s going on here?” Kebb asked, approaching with Anatu and Fariba

“You’re a what?” Tuppa asked in a grave tone, crossing her thick arms. Cass might have been intimidated if she were anyone else but herself.

“These two say Salach was attacked a few days ago,” she explained.

“By who?” Anatu asked.

“Rebels,” Cass said, “but that’s impossible because we’re-”

“Are the eyes of Fariba of Shen being deceived by the heat of the rising sun?” Fariba asked. Tuppa’s narrowed gaze lit up and broke from Cass, focusing on the merchant approaching with arms thrown wide. “Or is this their greatest friend of the City of Sand?”

“Fariba!” she scooped the diminutive Fariba up in her arms and squeezed. Cass distinctly heard something crack and Fariba laughed.

The two of them began speaking another language, with Agas joining in - seemingly as happy to see Fariba as Tuppa was - and Cass looked at Anatu and Kebb.

“Go find Mica,” Anatu said to Kebb, “I want to know what they’re saying.”

“Mica already left,” Cass said. “She’s scoping out the caravan to find out where they’re going. The big one,” she nodded toward Tuppa, who just set Fariba down, “says they’re heading for Nihimlaq.”

“Makes sense, there’s almost nowhere else to go out here,” Anatu said. “But who would have attacked Salach? There’s no armies out this way. Musa is halfway to Shen and we’re on our way to Keygroph to meet Ronka. All of the Council’s forces are in or approaching Dehenet.”

“Except my army,” Cass said. “Might be Cit. His letter said ”

“Or Ronka might be on the move,” Kebb offered. “Could he be responding to an older missive? Maybe he, too, is making for Dehenet.”

“That’s possible,” Anatu said. “I don’t know what the Empire’s strategy was in the last year of the war, but-”

“Beg your pardon,” Agas said, walking over from where their betrothed was talking to Fariba still. “I did not mean to get distracted by your esteemed companion.”

“They’re not our companion,” Kebb said.

“In any case, you were inquiring about the fate of Salach.” Agas’s smile faltered. They tilted their head down in a sigh and Cass saw the shadow under their eyes wasn’t painted on. “I will avoid the gory details, but our pechah - Dekel Hyam - was slain in the defense of Salach against an overwhelming force.”

Anatu’s face darkened. “I’ve met Dekel, and I’ve been to Salach. He was a strong and shrewd man. How did anyone take the city? The walls are tall and thick, and the bridge should stop any army from taking more than half.”

“The army was not large, not from what I could see, but a soldier I am not. I was too busy fleeing with my betrothed and what we could fit on a cart.” They took a steadying breath. “But I did glimpse the… tanynne that tore through our city’s defenses like a blade through a sheepskin.”

“What’s a tanynne?” Anatu asked.

“Tanynne is… ahh…” Agas reached into the air, as though trying to pluck the words out of nothing. “‘Monster’? I think is the closest? A creature of darkness that has been spreading like a rumor. But I assure you, it is as real as you or I. Ripping soldiers limb from limb, pulling walls and towers and any stone down with raw, ferocious strength.”

They leaned in, holding up a hand by their mouth and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “It was the Shadow of Sammos.”

Cass blinked slowly, then looked at Anatu and Kebb to make sure she’d heard correctly. They looked back at her in surprise.

Cass started laughing.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Generals Musa and Ronka are mentioned in Chapter 35
- Cit’s letter is in Chapter 82
- The “Shadow of Sammos” is one of the names/titles given to Cass during the war

Original Prompt

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Originally written June 7th, 2025
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Chapter 130

Cass’s mouth burned and her eyes watered as she downed another serving of one of Kher’s stews. The bright orange broth had soaked into the bread, making each bite a flavorful adventure that did wonders to distract her from the heat of the rising sun. Even the cookfire felt tolerable by comparison.

Everyone else was discussing someone while she was wondering about how one might “eat” fire to cool the burning sensation on her tongue. Glaukos, who was sitting beside her, jabbed her shoulder with his finger.

“Huh?” Cass asked, fanning some relatively cool desert air into her mouth.

“How about you?” he asked.

“How about me… what?”

“What would you say to your parents if you met them out here in the desert?”

Cass’s brows furrowed together. “What?” she asked. “How the fuck would I know if I met them?”

Glaukos rolled his eyes so hard his head followed them. “Okay, what would you ask if you met them at all? Like, if Helen herself introduced you to two strangers and said they’re your parents?”

Cass didn’t have an answer. She didn’t care if she ever met her parents and couldn’t fathom how it would ever come about. They’d been slaves, like her, and she’d been taken from them and sold before she had the ability to form memories. She didn’t know if they were alive, or if they had even been a couple.

“I don’t know… I’d ask if I was born with this,” she said, holding up her bandaged left arm. With the sun rising, the wrappings were a bit looser as the limb withered with the dawn. She was going to have to re-wrap it when she retired to her tent for the day, needing to keep it bound while she slept.

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Glaukos said, nodding.

“I have also been wondering about that,” Kebb said, walking over with a pot in one hand and a ladle in the other. Cass held her hand out over her bowl to decline any more, still exhaling fire every other breath.

“Hey, Fariba!” Glaukos called across the crackling fire pit. “What about you?”

The colorfully dressed merchant was slurping stew from their bowl and held up a finger. When finished, they licked their lips and sighed contentedly.

“Kher! Your skill with the preparation of such an exquisite meal so far from a proper kitchen is to be commended beyond mere compliments,” they fawned, bowing their head and holding out their bowl for more.

Kher turned to Cass and rolled his eyes, but spun back to Fariba - his braided beard clacking as the beads bounced about - with a smile and refilled their bowl.

“Many thanks, and more!” Fariba said as Kher continued around the circle. They turned their attention back to Glaukos, scooping up some of the spicy stew with bread. “As for your query, ever-incorrigible Glaukos, Fariba has long since broken communication with the greedy ones responsible for our upbringing. Should they deign to show their faces again in Fariba’s presence, their fate would be much the same as before.”

Fariba took a bite of the stew-soaked bread. Glaukos, and Iuven beside him, looked at Fariba with rapt attention while Cass continued to struggle with the spice coating her tongue. How Fariba tolerated it was beyond her.

Smacking their lips and making a gesture Cass didn’t understand toward Kher, they continued. “Fariaba would merely give them parting gifts in decreasing amounts of value until the effort for them to make the journey to see Fariba no longer seems profitable to them. Then they will, once again, cease to be Fariba’s burden to bear.”

“So you bribe your parents not to talk to you?” Iuven asked.

Fariba brushed the air with his hand. “They are of little concern. Fariba wishes to speak no more of them.”

“Fair enough,” Glaukos said with a shrug. Next to Fariba was Anatu, who Glaukos looked at next. “Anatu, what would you say to your parents if they were here?”

Anatu - red faced and struggling with the spice as much as Cass was - paused mid-bite. They hesitated, and Cass thought they looked uncomfortable, looking away from Glaukos while chewing slowly.

“These questions are reminding Fariba of a tale,” Fariba said after the silence became interminable. Cass and the others looked back at them. “There was once a lion within a jungle, and he chanced upon a man who, too, was traveling through. The two of them recognized each other’s greatness and did not harbor desire to quarrel. There was an exchange of pleasantries, but a dispute arose.

“They agreed that each were great in their own turn, but who was the more great? Man or beast? Their bickering lasted as they traveled abreast until upon they came a statue, and-”

A loud whistle pierced the dry air. Everyone looked toward a dune, where Mica had slid halfway down the steep end while waving a torch.

“We’ve got company!” she yelled.

Cass handed her mostly empty bowl to Glaukos as she stood up, running around the fire and up the slope. She struggled against the steep sand, but made it to the peak with Mica and looked out.

A caravan line that stretched out further than she could see was following the paths between the dunes, heading their direction.

“They’re Chollish,” Mica said, pointing out toward them.

“How can you tell?”

“The colors on those carts. They’re using oxen instead of camels. They’re coming from the direction of Salach, which is in-”

“Which is in Chol, yeah.” Cass nodded. “We’re basically at the border, I guess.”

“Probably crossed it last night.” Mica shrugged.

“They’re gonna have to stop soon now that the sun’s rising. Should we go say ‘hi’?”

“I was gonna snoop around first,” Mica said. She was from Chol and knew their customs. “They probably spotted us also, so they might send someone to say ‘hi’.”

“Alright, you go take a look and I’ll wait here if they send anyone.”

----------
Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written May 31st, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 129

Cass rolled her eyes, reached over, and gave Anatu a light shove. Enough to send them sliding sideways and scrambling not to fall off of their camel.

“That is not funny!” Anatu yelled, dropping their torch into the sand and clinging to the saddle and reins with all of their strength.

Cass chuckled. She reached over, grabbed Anatu’s ankle. She pulled on their sandal strap first, but it ripped and the footwear fell off the camel. Cass grabbed Anatu around their shin next - being very careful not to squeeze - and slowly pulled them back up far enough for them to regain control over their own balance.

“Sure looked funny,” Cass said.

Anatu’s lips quivered as they seemed on the verge of saying something. Their face reddened as the silence stretched into seconds.

Before they could find the words, an approaching light from behind caught both Anatu and Cass’s attention.

Fariba rode closer to them; one hand guiding the two camels pulling his cart, the other waving one of their torches.

“Cassandra the Mighty!” Fariba said, slotting the torch back into a sconce beside their seat. “Anatu the Majestic! Fariba sees the two of you bickering and squabbling like children.”

“We’re not bickering,” Cass said.
“We’re not children,” Anatu said simultaneously.

“Roughhousing then.” Fariba waved their hand dismissively. “Cassandra the Strong must be more careful when pushing around those smaller and less mighty! You would crack Anatu as easy as an egg.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to-”

Anatu raised their hand toward Cass and interrupted her. “No, no, they have a point.”

“Of course Fariba has a point. Fariba only speaks when there is a point to be made. Wasting words is not a profitable habit to have, and all of Fariba’s habits are profitable.”

Cass closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or groan. Sometimes Fariba’s ego was entertaining, and sometimes it was annoying.

Fariba continued, “The solution to your differences is very simple. The three of us shall all, this morning, when we have constructed our camp, take part in guided meditation.”

Cass glanced at Anatu, who met her look. They were just as baffled by the suggestion as she was.

“Fariba of Shen can read the faces of the both of you,” Fariba said. “Na’aas experts you are not. Why do you doubt the efficacy of advice and the sheer wealth of experience Fariba offers?”

“I don’t even know what ‘meditation’ is,” Cass said.

“It’s sitting and breathing and being alone with your thoughts.” Anatu’s dry response made the experience sound quite unpleasant.

“Well, those are the last thing I want to be alone with.”

“Bahhhh!” Fariba dropped the reins to swipe Anatu’s words out of the air. “That is among the most gross of poorly formed descriptions for intentional effect that have ever been uttered in Fariba’s presence. The art of meditation is far more empowering and impactful than simply sitting in silent contemplation.”

“But that is a major component of it.” Anatu nodded their head knowingly. “I have tried meditation before, and found that it did not suit me.” She looked across to Cass and said, “But you should sit with Fariba. Try something new.”

“There are many forms that meditation may take,” Fariba said. “Give Fariba’s guidance an attempt. As a reward, the cask of fine Sammosan wine Fariba has carried many leagues will be opened for us to enjoy.”

“Wine?” Cass asked. “Count me in.”

“I’ll still pass.” Anatu shook their head.

“Afraid of trying something new?” Cass smirked at Anatu.

“I’ve had Sammosan wine already,” Anatu said. “It’s not to my taste.”

“Where’d you get Sammosan wine?”

“From some merchant, why?”

Cass cocked her head to the side, trying to remember the timeline of the war. “When would you have been in Sammos?”

“What do you mean? I got it from a trader in Semperia.” Anatu’s thin, straw-colored eyebrows furrowed together. “You know traders and merchants like Fariba exist specifically to take goods from one place to another, yes?”

Cass’s face flushed with heat. “I know that,” she said. “I’ve just never had anything from Sammos since last time I was there.”

“You haven’t?”

“I didn’t deal with merchants during the war.”

“But before the war you did, didn’t you?”

“I was a slave.”

Silence fell. Cass didn’t like to remember the time before the war, but she did like how Anatu looked away from her and fidgeted on their saddle.

Cass was content to let them stew in the shame for the rest of the night.

“For certain there must be common ground between two such interesting and worldly people as you two,” Fariba said.

“We’re both alive after the war, that’s something,” Cass said. She looked at Anatu for agreement, but they were staring fixedly ahead.

Fariba continued, “Come now, Cassandra. Certainly all who are alive to have such conversations can proclaim common ground of surviving to the point of having such a conversation. What is there that you know of Anatu that you approve of? Fariba of Shen is almost certain that there are depths to your erstwhile enemy, now travel companion and ally, that you would wish to know more of.”

Cass exhaled slowly through her nose and closed her eyes. Truth be told, she did not know much about Anatu. They were on opposing sides for most of the war, then Anatu became a turncoat to curry favor with the rebellion. They were an advisor of some sort, and whenever they showed up they had a haughty, superior tone that grated Cass.

“Well, when we started this journey a couple of weeks ago, I saw Anatu do this really neat throwy-flippy fighting style when Nuut tried to kill me,” Cass said. “I’d like to know more about that.”

“A ‘throwy-flippy’ manner of fighting?” Fariba’s eager tone was directed at Anatu. “For certain this is something that you could tell Cassandra the Great and Powerful much and more about, yes?”

----------
Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- “Na’aas” is based on the game “As-Nas” which is an ancient middle-eastern precursor to poker - Semperia is the capital city of Harenae (Iuven’s nation of origin, based on the aesthetics of the ancient Roman Empire) - Anatu’s “throwy-flippy” fighting style was shown in Chapter 19

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written May 24th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 128

Cass sat atop her camel, Cassiopeia, and watched the caravan pass her by as she waited for Anatu. Nuu wanted them to ‘take it easy’ on Nuut, whom Cass had more reasons than not to want Anatu to keep giving a hard time. But Cass had to acknowledge that Nuut had a very good reason to hate her as much as she did.

Cass’s thoughts were interrupted when Charis rode past her. The pair of them locked eyes. She reached out, opened her mouth to say… something. Anything.

Charis looked ready to listen, but Cass failed to find the words in time. She watched them ride away, white cloak almost glowing in the light of their torch.

I’m sorry for getting drunk, she thought; words needing said now coming to her. I’m sorry for scaring you. If she couldn’t get these words out before the journey was over, she wasn’t sure if there would be another chance. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for-

“You look like someone just stole your sweetroll.”

Cass nearly jumped off of Cassiopeia. Anatu had ridden up behind her, holding their torch low enough that their camel was keeping the light off of her.

They asked, “Is something on your mind?”

“Uh…” Cass looked back at Charis, increasingly distant. “No.” She shook her head and turned her attention to Anatu. “I mean, yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, here I am. Let’s keep moving; Kher is teaching Iuven some dirty limericks and I don’t want to listen to them.” Anatu tugged on their camel reigns and continued forward.

Doing the same, Cass asked, “Kher?”

“I know, right? I’d expect it from Glaukos, but Kher seemed more…” Anatu waved their torch slowly as they thought of a word, realized what they were doing, and lowered it again. “I don’t know. Refined?”

“Glaukos isn’t good at dirty jokes like that,” Cass said, a grin pulling at her lips. “He starts giggling too much. He’s like a kid that way.”

“Heh, I’m not at all surprised to hear that.” Anatu looked at their torch and leaned over the side of their camel, reaching down to try and jab the torch into the sand as they rode. They were far too short to reach, and not daring enough to slide off their saddle, so sat back up.

Looking back at Cass, they asked, “So what did you want to talk about.”

Cass wasn’t sure she even wanted to talk about Nuut, but she’d told Nuu that she would.

“Nuut,” she said. “Or, not her so much as maybe you can go easy on her?”

Anatu set their jaw and closed their eyes while exhaling, slowly, through their nose.

“Did Nuu ask you to request this?” they asked.

Cass quashed the instinct to deny and said, “Yeah.”

“I will tell you what I told them; Nuut is not a damsel who needs gentle treatment. She is a warrior who-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Cass said, waving her hand in front of her face as if to brush away Anatu’s words. “She’s tough and abrasive and can handle whatever punishment you give her. I don’t think she needs a break because she’s exhausted or anything.”

“So what? You think if you intervene she’ll start to like you like everyone else?”

“What? No. I don’t care if she likes me. I don’t care if she knows I asked for anything. Tell her Nuu talked to you for all I care. I just want her to calm the hell down.”

“And you think letting her sit around camp and glower at you will calm her?”

“I don’t know.” Cass shrugged. “Better than her walking around in the heat and sim… ugh, simmering.”

“You’re spending too much time with Glaukos.” Anatu rolled their eyes and chuckled.

“It was an accident. Just think about it. Give Nuut a break, even if she is the most grating person in camp.”

“Second most.”

Cass furrowed her brow. “Who’s first? Fariba? They’re annoying but I wouldn’t call them-”

Anatu leveled Cass a look. Cass frowned, eyes widening, then smirked.

“If I stop being a pain in your ass, will you let up on Nuut?”

“I doubt very much you can, but I will give Nuut a break from patrol duty today. If they cause you trouble - and no one else - that will be entirely yours to deal with.”

“That’s fine. I can deal with it. Maybe I can talk Kebb into dragging Nuut into some sermon or other.”

“Nuut prays to no deity, Helen or otherwise,” Anatu said with a sigh. “She takes no lovers, imbibes little alcohol. I knew her before the war. All she wants is to fight. Now, all she wants is to kill. You, specifically.”

“Yeah, I gathered that part. Maybe she needs a vice or two to calm down.”

“You consider religion a vice?”

“You don’t?”

Anatu was silent for a moment. They looked backward, toward the rest of the caravan. Cass followed their gaze. Behind them was the cart, with Kher and Iuven and Maar.

“The way Kebb indulges in it, maybe,” Anatu said. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why would I?”

Anatu shrugged. “Because you want to be grating?”

Cass rolled her eyes, reached over, and gave Anatu a light shove. Enough to send them sliding sideways and scrambling not to fall off of their camel.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written May 17th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 127

Cass considered herself a simple woman, but she was no fool. After her third attempt to ride closer to Charis, to talk to them, was rebuffed with them moving further away, she gave up. If they wanted to stay angry, let them.

She’d try to apologize at dinner.

Four torches lit up the night before her and another four stretched behind. The line of light was broken only by her and Glaukos, who had kindly extinguished his torch to ride alongside her.

“We just need to ask Fariba if they know… whatever language is on the lid,” he was saying. “You said they’re the one who gave the Council the box, right?”

“Yeah,” Cass said.

“Then they can probably translate it.”

“Why do we need it translated?” Cass asked. “I already know what it says; it’s a message for the general in Keygroph, ‘this was the Emperor’s fate and if you don’t want to share it you should surrender’, or something like that.”

“Yeah but what if the Council lied?”

“Helen was right there. She would’ve-” Cass stopped as she saw her shadow grow and move on the sand. Looking back, a bubble of light approached. For a moment Cass thought it was Nuut, but the neutral expression clarified it was their sibling, Nuu.

“Cass, Glaukos,” they greeted politely as they came closer. Cass shifted in her seat to keep her arm out of the light. It was wrapped up in gauze, but it was more comfortable to keep it in her shadow.

“Nuu, is something the matter?” Cass asked.

“Not as such, but I did want to ask if you would speak to Anatu on my behalf?”

A short bark of a laugh escaped Cass at the unexpected request.

“Me? Why do you need me? I’m sure they like you better.”

Nuu’s head bobbed side to side. “In some ways, perhaps. But in others… your words can carry much more weight. Particularly in relation to my sister.”

“You wan’t me to talk to Anatu about Nuut?” Cass’s brows furrowed as she wracked her brain about what she could possibly have to say to Anatu about Nuut.

“Yes. Or, rather, if you could ask them to let up on her?” Nuu frowned pleadingly. “They keep assigning her to perimeter guard or scouting, and she doesn’t have time to get to know anyone or rest-”

“You want me,” Cass said, pointing at herself while arching an eyebrow inquisitively, “to ask Anatu, to go easy on Nuut, because she’s getting lonely? Does she crave friendship?”

She frowned as exaggeratedly as she could and used her good hand to pretend she was wiping away tears. “Boo hoo. Poor Nuut.”

Nuu sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose, nodding their head. “I underst-”

Cass continued, “Sure, I’ll talk to Anatu. Maybe if I’m nice to her she’ll stop muttering death threats or calling me a monster?”

“I understand that my sister is unreasonable with regards to you,” Nuu plead. They slid their torch into a metal loop attached to the back of their saddle and folded their hands together imploringly. “I wouldn’t ask this if I thought another could help. The only person Anatu listens to besides you is Kebb, but he’s an ass and wouldn’t help even if he could.”

Cass rolled her eyes up and nodded her head left and right thoughtfully. “Well, can’t argue with you on that.”

“I know that my sister has done you harm,” Nuu said, “and I am not asking you to acknowledge that you’ve done her harm in the past. There is no apology or act that can cure the animosity between you, but if you can help her be less ostracized, maybe-”

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to Anatu,” Cass said, waving both hands to try and placate Nuu. “Just… don’t beg, please. I hate that.”

“Thank you.” Nuu bowed their head. “I will go corral Nuut and Anatu, and we can-”

“No, no no. No.” Cass waved a finger. “Don’t get involved. If Nuut’s there she’ll just cause more trouble, and if you’re there Anatu will be defensive. I’ll talk to them alone.”

Glaukos raised his hand. “But what about me?”

Cass looked at him in disbelief. “You can just keep going. Or chat with Nuu. I don’t care.”

“I mean,” he said, tilting his head and pitching his voice conspiratorially. “What about the… thing… we were talking about.” He glanced at Nuu, who looked quite perplexed for a moment.

Then it clicked and they shook their head. “Ah, I can be off if you two are discussing something private. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s nothing important,” Cass said. “You two keep going. I’ll move off to the side and let the rest of the caravan pass. Anatu’s near the back, right?”

“Yes, riding with Fariba, I think.”

“Oh goodie,” Cass muttered, steering Cassiopeia off the route they were following to wait for the others to pass. “I get to try and get them to shut up and leave us alone for a few minutes.”

----------
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- The box’s origin was in Chapter 8
- The message was told to Cass in Chapter 9

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written May 10th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 126

CW: Graphic description of a remembered wound in 3rd paragraph

Nuut stared forward, eyes focused on nothing, letting her camel follow her sibling’s. Her attempts to disassociate from the pain throbbing in her leg failed as much as her struggle to keep at bay her thoughts from the wahsh. Cassandra, who continued to walk free of punishment and penance for the harm she had wrought.

It grated her every thought as much as her pegleg grated her flesh. The custom fit faux-appendage never let her forget her past failure in battle, or the loss incurred from the black monster of shadows and starlight. Visions of the beast charging the line where she and her brave brothers-and-sisters-in-arms stood in defiance of the rebel scum.

The icy grip. Black fingers squeezing around her leg. The effortless force, bursting muscle and tearing sinew, shattering her limb into a chunky marrow pulp.

Throb throb

Nuut reached down and rubbed the brass plate where it pressed against her skin. If she let her leg hang free, her pulse ached in the amputated stump, but if she applied pressure with her stirrups, it grated.

“Nuut, might I trouble you?”

The Desheryan words in a pigfucking Sammosan accent jolted Nuut out of her pained daze. She looked over at Kebb, who had ridden closer while she had been distracted by her thoughts.

“What?” she asked. The former slave of Anatu carried himself far too haughtily these days.

“Do you by chance have any spare incense? My stores have run low and-”

“Try burning less. You reek of it.”

Kebb’s jaw clenched as he forced a smile that did not make it to his eyes. With flared nostrils he said, “Be that as it may, I am in need of more for my prayers when we make camp.”

Nuut would sooner have overturned her incense into the sand itself and let Kebb try to reclaim it, but she did not have the energy to deal with the inevitable hostility that antagonism would bring her. Besides that, she had not prayed since this journey began. The wahsh’s presence reminded her that no matter how devout she had tried to be, her enemy remained unharmed.

And tethered to the very person she was supposed to pray to.

Leaning back and turning in her saddle, Nuut fished a small satchel of the scented dust pellets and tossed them to Kebb. She’d borne them for many leagues, and was glad to have one less burden to concern herself with.

“My thanks,” Kebb said, bowing his head. He veered off, blessedly leaving Nuut on her own again.

The grating feeling in her leg returned as she adjusted her seat on the saddle. Sand must have gotten in, despite her best efforts. Sand got everywhere.

She lifted her leg and undid the straps, pulling the brass rod off. Crossing her lesser limb over the saddle, she carefully brushed the twisted and stitch-scarred flesh and felt a few bits of grit knocked loose. Once she was content her skin was no longer the issue, she turned her attention to the straps and plate.

As she cleaned her pegleg, Nuut saw Anatu waiting on their camel, eyes locked on her. Once close enough they asked, “What was Kebb saying to you?”

Unlike the former slave, Anatu had proper syntax and tone in their speech. A true royal, if disgraced. Nuut glanced back the way Kebb had ridden off, then looked at Anatu.

“Nothing. He asked for incense.”

“He didn’t spout any of his nonsense about seeing Helen?”

Nuut’s brows furrowed. “No?”

Anatu looked back along the caravan toward the halo of torchlight around Kebb and shook their head. “He’s been acting so… erratic lately. Claiming to see Helen in the flames when he prays. You know he said he spoke-”

“Kebb is not the only one who has been erratic of late,” Nuut said, turning her attention back to her pegleg.

“What?” Anatu seemed surprised.

“Your behavior has been most unseemly since we stopped in Nihimlaq.” Nuut narrowed her eyes at Anatu. “If you are ill, or suffering some blight, I would know. Your actions have been unsettling and your attitude toward Cassandra has softened.”

Anatu’s jaw clenched and unclenched. They swallowed and closed their eyes for a moment before tilting their head to the side, returning Nuut's scorching glare with an icy stare.

“You’ve been good on patrol and know better what signs to look for. When we make camp at sunrise you can patrol again.”

They rode off. Nuut knew it was an attempt at a punishment, but she was glad to be on patrol. Movement was action, and it kept her away from the wahsh and her little fanclub.

Casting her gaze along the caravan, Nuut found Cassandra riding alongside the wagon. She was conversing with Iuven and Kher; too far to discern what they were saying, but she heard the lilt of laughter from among them. She was glad that she was no nearer or else she’d be subject to yet another pigfucker dialect.

As Nuut finished cleaning the plate and straps of her pegleg, she silently lamented the oath she had made to Anatu. Knowing Cassandra’s weakness to the very flames she was bound to, the way she suffered under heat, and the near success she’d had at removing the wahsh from the world already, tempered her mood and gave her the patience she needed.

Only one more night to suffer, she thought, her lips curling into a smile as she strapped her pegleg back on. The wahsh would only be her problem for one more night.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Wahsh is the Deshereyan word for “Monster”, which Nuut has been calling her since Chapter 19

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written May 3rd, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 125

Cass chewed her lip in worry. The conflicting words of Cit and Helen meant one was lying. Overbearing aggression from the Council, or the unlikely insurrection of her army?

Fariba of Shen smiled warmly, but their sad eyes told her the forthcoming answer would tip the balance in a way that would please neither of them.

They sighed and looked up at the shadows dancing in the torchlight along the colorful fabric ceiling of the tent. “Fariba of Shen told you of the three trades,” Fariba said. “The free trade of words is the easiest among them. They cannot be reclaimed once granted, but the substance of them is as thin as the air they are spoken with.” Their hand grasped the empty air and Fariba twirled their fingers through it.

Fariba patted the crate that they were sitting on. “The second form of trade is of goods. Physical materials that can-”

“Ugh,” Cass groaned, getting up from the pile of fabrics and scooping them up into her arms. “I don’t need a trade lesson.”

“A lesson is not what Fariba of Shen is trying to provide,” Fariba said, chuckling as Cass continued to load materials onto the cart. “But there will be no argument if Cassandra the Relentless wishes not to continue the discussion. Fariba was only going to say how physical goods traded can be traded back and all can be made well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cass said, emerging from Fariba’s oversized - and increasingly overcrowded - wagon. “Words are worthless and items can be taken back, I get it. So what’s the third thing?”

Fariba leaned back and folded their hands behind their colorful turban. “Ah, the third form of trade is the exchange of services. Performing an act for another, such as you gathering, moving, and oh-so-wonderfully packing Fariba’s belongings in the cart while the letter from your Helen was carefully transcribed from its damaged state into a readable format, and then subsequently read for Cassandra the Great.”

Cass was looking around the tented-in area. “Services are as free as words,” she said. “At least if someone likes you enough.” The only thing left to pack up was the crate Fariba was sitting on.

“Not quite the same,” Fariba said, holding up their index finger. “Words and services may be given, and their impacts and effects are certainly as real as any traded good. But, a word can be - to an extent - retracted. Taken back. Forgiven or forgotten. Words cost the speaker naught and the receiver has much of the power in how the words will be leveraged.

“An action, however, is unretractable. You have packed Fariba’s cart. It cannot be un…” Fariba stopped and blinked, then shook their head. “A poor example, but the time and effort that Cassandra the Skillful has graced Fariba of Shen with are irrevocable. A better case to be examined is the translation of the letter. Fariba cannot un-translate it, and cannot remove the knowledge that has been granted to Cassandra.”

“Yeah, but those were words,” Cass said, crossing her arms and smirking.

Fariba pressed their face into their hands and shook their head. Cass walked over to nudge them off of the crate when the tent flap opened again.

Anatu looked surprised to see Cass, but quickly frowned as though an acrid smell upset them. “Everyone is packed and ready to go, why is the tent still up?”

“Fariba of Shen has been leveraging Cassandra the Mighty’s prodigious strength and infinite patience,” Fariba said, draping themself backwards over the crate they were using as a seat. “An ailment has prevented-”

Anatu cut them off with, “Okay, fine. Just hurry up, we need to go.”

“Why the sudden hurry?” Cass asked, crossing her arms.

“What’s sudden about it?” Anatu asked.

“You weren’t in this much of a hurry last time we broke camp.”

“Last time was before we spent two days in Nihimlaq.”

“We made good time last night.”

“Because we were being followed!”

“And I scared them off!”

“And now we have another tent to pack up!” Anatu gestured around them.

“We’re almost done!”

“I know!”

“Then why are you yelling!?”

“Because you’re-!” Anatu bit back something and took a slow breath in through their nose. When they exhaled, they continued in a forced-calmer tone. “Please finish packing up the tent.”

Cass bowed and swept the sand with her fingers. “Yes, your majesty," she said, putting as much sarcasm in her tone as she could.

Anatu’s face danced through a myriad of expressions. Confusion, fear, the expected anger, then a sadness that caught Cass off guard. They opened their mouth to say something but closed it and left in silence.

“Fariba knows not the animosity between you two,” Fariba said, getting up off of the crate they were sitting on. “But it is not wise to travel with an adversary. Anatu is not your enemy, Cass the Benevolent.”

“Phmph, then they should stop acting like it. Get up.” Cass jerked her thumb at Fariba, who dutifully stood up and bowed, allowing Cass to lift the crate to put away.

When she emerged from the cart the tent was already down and Fariba was standing by as Iuven and Charis were rolling it up.

“How...?”

“A single tug on the correct cord and the entirety of the canopy folds in upon itself. And with a little assistance from such wonderful people as have been traveling with Fariba of late,” they gestured at Charis and Iuven, “even a large task becomes a simple matter.”

If only everything could have been a simple matter.

“Soooo,” Fariba asked, leaning in closer to Cass, “did Fariba’s lesson in trade come across as assisting in Cassandra the-”

“Yes,” Cass groaned. “I get it. Both letters are words, there’s no goods or actions, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Ehhh…” Fariba winced. “Fariba of Shen would never say that words did not matter. Also known that services last far greater lengths of time than any word, written or spoken.”

----------
Notes:
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written April 26th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 124

Cass slid one of Fariba’s many, many crates into its proper place. She carefully pushed on it until it made the click that the maddening merchant had told her to listen for. Emerging into the large, shaded space beneath the colorful fabric of Fariba’s tent, Cass’s eyes scanned the yellow and red fabric, thin enough to let a cool breeze through.

If the sun had still been up, the interior would have had a warm, orange glow. Now it was dark enough that Fariba had hung up a few oil lanterns to help Cass see what she was doing. Not that she needed it; her vision was never impeded by darkness, no matter how deep.

As she worked, Fariba read more of Helen’s message.

“And then she goes on to say that ‘there was conflict in the camp of your concubine that forced-’”

“Woah, hold on, ‘concubine’?” Cass stopped rolling a couple of barrels up a ramp to cut Fariba off.

“Fariba was not quite able to make the word due to the damage but it looked similar to philia, and there was some degree of interpretation involved. Presuming Helen to be the jealous type-”

“‘Thiria’,” Cass corrected, returning her attention to the barrels.

“Ahh, an altercation over beasts of burden then? Fariba understands,” they said with a nod. “It is not uncommon for those who have to defend their belongings from those who have not, or yield it to them, though an agreement can usually-”

Cass had finished rolling the barrels up into Fariba’s cart when she stopped them again. “No, not beasts. The Thiria was the name of my army.”

“Your army was named after beasts?”

Glaukos poked his head into Fariba’s tent, grinning like a youngster. “Hey, I heard someone say ‘concubines’?”

Fariba waved at him. “No, Fariba was misinterpreting-”

Cass raised her voice. “Glaukos, out. Keep it in your robes and help someone else.”

Glaukos raised his hands and slipped back out of the tent, saying, “Okay, okay!”

Cass gestured for Fariba to continue while she gathered up various carpets and pillows the merchant had spread out in their spacious tent, giving it a degree of comfort she envied.

Fariba yawned, then continued. “She mentions an altercation with your beastmen and that the… what at first interpretation of the damaged word was ‘council’ might in fact have been ‘insurrectionists’... and says a thing about a fox being deceitful? This may be some sort of code between you two. Fariba will not pry.”

“We don’t have a code,” Cass said, rolling up the last carpet. “Where do these go?” she asked, scooping the half-dozen rugs in a bundle with both arms.

“Those go on top of the first four barrels that you placed,” Fariba said. “To the best of your ability, line them up so that Fariba of Shen can tug out the bottommost one and the rest will roll out toward the crates.”

Cass nodded, and Fariba continued.

“Your Helen used the Chollish word for fox is why I thought it may be code. Is ‘Cit’ a name then? Fariba vaguely recalls that you may have said it-”

“Yes.” Cass huffed while climbing out of the cart. “Cit is my second in command. And he’s from Chol.”

“Ah! What a delightful name for who Fariba simply must assume is an equally delightful person of culture and taste if they are second only to Cassandra the Great.”

Cass put her hands on her hips and bent forward, slowly inhaling through her nose as she straightened herself out. She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. Fariba’s overuse of compliments and platitudes was both annoying and endearing and she couldn’t tell if she was frustrated at how much they were talking, or how well it worked to defuse her.

“Just… keep going,” she said.

“There is little more for Fariba to tell. Your Helen seems to be under the impression that your Cit and other beastly soldiers were involved in an uprising of sorts.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Cass said, walking over to look over Fariba’s shoulder at the letter. It was a rewritten reconstruction in Fariba’s hand, and Cass couldn’t have read it even if it were in simple Sammosan from Helen herself. “He told me that the Council attacked them, and they retreated.”

Fariba snapped their fingers and looked up at Cass with bright eyes.

“Ahhh yes! Fariba now remembers that conversation. The letter from your friend, read by the small old woman who travels with you.”

“Mica’s not…” Cass never thought of Mica as old, but something nagged at the back of her mind about an argument they’d had about her again. “I mean, she’s the oldest person in the caravan, but she’s not-”

“Age is merely a number, and a very relative one at that,” Fariba said, dismissively waving their hand. “Fariba may have the beauty of youth, but the wisdom of age is one many overlook when they have trouble meeting the eyes of the Master of Trade.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Okay, ‘Master of Trade’, with your wisdom can you tell me who the fuck is lying? Cit or Helen?” Her stomach twisted and heart dropped. Cit and Helen had never seemed to see eye-to-eye, though they’d never actually met in person either. Cass had moved through the war by balancing their advice and opinions; she’d never had them conflict like this before.

Cass hadn’t noticed Fariba lifting their nose and opening their mouth to answer until the prolonged silence brought her out of her thoughts. The spritely trader’s lips had a soft, almost comforting smile that did not make it to their eyes, which conveyed a sadness bordering on pity.

----------
Notes:
- Theme: Several of Fariba’s carpets and tent fabrics were yellow
- Bonus words: Yield, youngster, yawn(ed)
- Bonus constraint: Cass fears choosing between Cit and Helen - Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- According to google “philia” is “the concept of friendship or affectionate love”
- “Thiria” is based on thēría, which according to google is the plural form of thēríon (wild animal/beast)
- According to google, “stasiastes” is the ancient greek word for ‘insurrectionist’, and sounds similar to “gerousiastes”, which means “council of elders” and thus Fariba’s mistake.
- “Cit” is the chollish word for “fox”
- Cit’s letter was from Chapter 82

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written April 19th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 123

Sharp, burning pain. Cass’s eyes snapped open and she rolled away from it. Falling to the floor with a thump, Cass gingerly touched her left arm and looked at the spot by her elbow; the curse-blackened skin had a narrow line of bubbles, which lingered with an itch.

The bandage wrapping had come loose while she slept, and a thin sliver of the setting sunlight streamed in through the flap to her tent. The narrow red line across her bed answered her question about the pain.

Closing her eyes, Cass rested her head against the side of the cot and groaned. A soft sound nearby had her peek out from the semi-darkness, and a shadow of movement outside her tent caught her attention.

“Cit? You out there?” she asked, her throat parched.

A much younger man’s voice answered. “Uh, no?” It lacked the deep, course grating of Cit’s gravely tone. Cass tried to remember which of her soldiers it was without opening her eyes again but wasn’t placing it.

“Elijah?” she asked.

“Iuven.” The tent flap opened slowly and sunlight glittered off of a silvery helm on the young man’s head.

Cass’s mind rolled over slower than her body had, but it all came back to her. Iuven, the caravan, the mission to Keygroph, the head.

“Ugh, right, sorry.” She wiped some drool off of her chin and stood up just enough to sit on the edge of her cot.

“Who’s Elijah?”

“Soldier,” Cass muttered, eyes working their way closed again. “Did you need anything?”

“Oh, uh, no; I was just passing by when you asked for someone. Did you want something?”

Cass looked around her tent, trying to take stock through the brain fog, then shook her head. “Water?”

“I’ll get some.”

Iuven vanished and the flap fluttered shut. No more sunlight streamed through; it had set behind a dune.

She stood up and stretched, yawning. A blurry heap she could not make heads-or-tails of until she rubbed her eyes to clear the sleep. The tangle of fabric at the foot of her cot was supposed to be a robe, but in the heat of the day she had shed it and balled it up.

Once dressed she stepped out into the warm desert evening. The bright orange glow to the west was a farewell to the heat of the day while a cool dark sky grew out of the east.

A couple of tents were already rolled up into bundles near the cart. Glaukos was tying one of the camels up to it, while Kebb and Mica folded up one of their tents.

Iuven was over by a barrel drawing water. Cass took a step in his direction when, from out of nowhere, Fariba of Shen appeared before her.

“Cassandra the Mighty!” they declared, bowing so low their blue-and-gold turban seemed likely to fall off.

They rose and continued, “Fariba of Shen was curiously wondering your powerful abilities would be free to aid and assist in the proverbial, and ideally in no way literal, ‘breaking down’ of Fariba’s temporary domicile in preparation for another night of travel.”

Cass blinked slowly, struggling to process the avalanche of words that had spewed from the petite merchant’s mouth.

“What?” she asked.

Fariba glanced around, wringing their hands, then lowered their tone into something softer and almost conspiratorial.

“The letter that arrived the other night, the one from your Helen. There was more that she had to write. More than Fariba of Shen was comfortable sharing in the more public setting that it was being read aloud in.”

Helen had written more. Cass’s pulse increased. The world became clearer.

“Okay, yeah,” Cass said, nodding. “I’ll help you with your tent.”

“Splendid!” Fariba proclaimed. “Come! Come! We can begin at once. Please for the first thing, move some of the heavier items within the fabric-enclosed area over there into the wagon itself. Fariba will show you.”

Cass followed Fariba, stopping for a moment when Iuven came back to give her some water.

“Do you need help?” he asked, looking after Fariba, who was still reciting instructions that Cass was not listening to.

“Nah, I got this. Help everyone else first. If I’m still folding things into Fariba’s cart when the rest of camp is packed, you can pack my tent up.” She looked back at her tiny abode. “Get Glaukos to help though, there’s some… uh, sentimental stuff in there.”

Cass didn’t want him to stumble upon the head-in-a-box.

----------
- It has been 12 in-universe days since Chapter 1

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written April 12th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 122

The sun took its time rising, and Cass welcomed the delay as she sat just outside her tent. The cookfire by Kher was fragrant as ever but she kept her distance, wanting to savor the cool morning as long as she could.

Fariba was nowhere to be seen. Cass knew they were in their cart, which was impossible to miss; bright fabric tarps of orange, blue, and green shimmering with metal ornaments. It was vastly larger than everyone else’s tents after Fariba had unfolded it all with impressive speed and ease.

She watched Kebb and Anatu discuss the pursuers with subdued fervor. They weren’t the only ones showing unease, either. Mica and Nuu labored with swift movements to set up their tents as well as those of Nuut and Iuven, with Charis’s help.

The two of them opted to go out on patrol around the perimeter early, and immediately followed the caravan’s backtrail out of sight. Cass gazed at the horizon where they had vanished, thinking about going after them. If the people following them did decide to come back, she wanted to be there.

“Sangak?” Kher asked.

Cass started. “Oh! Didn’t hear you come over.”

“I am light on my feet,” Kher said with a chuckle. He handed her a warm cloth with a flaky flat bread on it. It was covered in cheese and varied herbs with a thin red sauce drizzled over top.

Kher continued, “This would normally be something we serve for breakfast, but the fresh mint was not likely to last another day without loss, and dried mint… ehhhh… it does not blend as well.”

“What’s the red stuff?” Cass asked, snapping off a piece of bread with a little bit of everything on it and taking a bite.

“Mixed berry jam. We have that in ample supply. The next few days will be sweet indeed!” Kher bowed, his beard beads clacking.

Cass nodded as he went back to the fire, then took another bite. Looking around the camp, she noted only Glaukos as looking relaxed. He was eating with Maar, who was staring past him and off into the vanishing night.

Anatu and Kebb approached Cass while she was mid-bite.

“We want you to help keep watch today,” Kebb said.

“Hmph?” Cass finished chewing the sangak and swallowed. “Why me?”

“If anyone comes, you’d be best equipped to handle it.”

“Not during daytime.”

“I’ve seen you fight during the day.”

“Yeah, but it sucks. I’m way more vulnerable to the heat than everyone else, and I’d rather be asleep.”

“But during the war-”

“War’s over,” Cass said, lifting the bread up for another bite.

Anatu sighed. “Told you she wouldn’t go for it.”

“Fariba of Shen has done it again!”

Cass, Anatu, and Kebb all looked over at the colorful tent where Fariba emerged. They walked across the sand, holding a square of parchment aloft, with their pointed chin held high and a bright grin from ear to ear.

Shoving the rest of the bread in her mouth, Cass chewed and drank some water to wash it down quickly while the Shennese merchant approached.

“Cassandra the Brilliant and Beautiful,” Fariba said, holding out the paper and bowing their head. “Fariba of Shen, using techniques and skills from many a guild and secret society, has managed to restore and rewrite much of the wording and phrases written by the lovely Helen of Sammos.”

“Be careful of how you speak of the High Priestess!” Kebb seethed.

“Fariba uses only the very same words that were used in the letter to Cassandra the Delightful.” They turned the letter around to read it. “It was very careful work to do, too. Fariba of Shen can read the script of Sammos as well as any, but to understand the turns of phrase and specific dialectical terminology was very-”

“Yeah, I don’t know what any of that means,” Cass said. “But what did Helen say?”

“Oh, nothing of great import.” Fariba shrugged and looked over the letter. “She tells about missing you, assures you that your quest will spread her Light across the Empire - that is an emphasis and proper noun usage of ‘Light’ - and that to follow the words of others is folly. Fariba believes that her own precise words were ‘Do not heed choices presented by other voices. Follow your heart and my guidance.’”

“You believe those were her words?” Anatu asked, crossing their arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“Fariba had to make some educated guesses in places,” the colorfully dressed merchant said, offering a smile to Kebb. “Some of the damage was quite extensive.”

Cass nodded. “Okay, we have it from Helen herself; neither of you is running things.”

Both Anatu and Kebb looked at her with wide eyes and flared nostrils. Cass barely suppressed a laugh; they looked like they’d been surprised by a particularly nasty fart.

“That’s not at all what-” Anatu argued.
“How can you believe a word-” Kebb chided.

“Enough!” Cass let out her irritation with both of them. The sand prevented her voice from carrying far, but the outburst got the attention of everyone else in camp.

Cass yanked the letter out of Fariba’s grasp and held it in her fist. “Helen said I don’t have to listen to either of you. If you don’t like it, you can write her yourself. We’ll be at Salach in… what… six days?”

“Six more nights of travel, at our current pace, yes,” Fariba agreed.

“We get to Salach, you two can complain in your own letters, then when we get to Chol and you get her responses we can argue more. Until then, I’m in charge.” Cass shoved the crumpled letter into a pocket of her robe and looked around the camp. Everyone was quiet with alarmed looks.

“And I say I get the day off. If you want someone to keep watch all day, then you two do it.” She pointed at Kebb and Anatu each, then went into her tent.

----------
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written April 5th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 121

Two figures atop a distant dune. Silhouettes near-invisible against the starry night. Cass and Anatu watched them for a silent moment.

“How long have they been following us?” Anatu asked, unnecessarily quietly. The figures were quite far. Even Glaukos would have trouble hitting them with his bow.

Glaukos!

“Let’s catch up to the rest,” Cass said.

They rode faster, quickly gaining on the more relaxed pace of the caravan. Kebb and Glaukos were the first ones they overcame.

“No, really, it’s easy to set up,” Glaukos was saying. “We just line the camels up side-by-side and pack some sand together on one end.”

“It is a silly idea.” Kebb shook his head, frowning.

Glaukos noticed Cass and Anatu approaching and gestured to them. “Let’s get their opinion.”

“No time,” Cass said. “We’re being followed. Glaukos, come with me.”

“Followed?” Kebb asked, eyes wide as he looked back.

Anatu rode past him. “Kebb, with me. We’ve got to spread the word and get everyone ready.”

“Tell them to speed up for a bit and get some distance,” Cass said. “Find a place to set up a defense if needed.”

The four all rode ahead, but Glaukos and Cass stopped at the cart. Cass whistled for Iuven to stop it, then hopped off of her camel and climbed in. She found Glaukos’s bow and quiver, tossing them out to him, and grabbed her swordspear.

As she jumped out of the wagon, Nuut and Maar appeared around the side.

“We are under attack?” Nuut asked, narrowing her eyes into the distance.

“We’re being followed,” Cass said. Calling it an attack now would be untrue. “Glaukos and I are going to wait here and see if they get any closer.”

“We can check if they’re hostile or just curious.” Glaukos was playing relaxed, but Cass could see how tight he was gripping his bow and the way he fiddled with the quiver now hanging from his waist.

“We’ll stay with you,” Maar said.

“No, stay with the caravan; if there’s an ambush or they come from another direction it’ll be safer if everyone’s there.” Cass knew she could keep herself and Glaukos safe, but couldn’t be in two places at once.

Ultimately everyone complied, leaving Glaukos and Cass watching the caravan continue on at a faster pace, their camels guided away with Maar and Nuut.

The duo turned their attention back behind them and Cass saw that the figures had kept their distance, but were still pursuing.

“It’s been a while since I wished I had a torch,” Cass muttered, lifting her bandaged arm and waving it slowly. The white linen wrappings were more likely to be seen, though she considered removing them. Her cursed arm would shimmer with its own starry night sky if she exposed it.

Could send a message as well, she thought.

After a few seconds of waving with no reaction from the distant shadows, Cass lowered her arm and looked to Glaukos.

“Think you can get an arrow close to scare them?” Cass asked.

“Hah, funny,” Glaukos said, drawing an arrow into his bow. The motion was smooth and fluid; Cass knew he was a good archer but hadn’t seen him shoot in many years. “Remember, I was able to cork an urn at 300 podes.”

He narrowed his eyes and moved a couple of paces forward. With a slow inhale he raised the bow, then exhaled as he drew the string back. There were several seconds of silence as Cass’s eyes darted from Glaukos to the distant figures and back.

Glaukos slowly raised the angle of the arrow and released it with a twang.

The night was silent and still for a long moment.

In a quick motion, the distant shadows moved away from one another and a dull shout made its way to her.

“Hah, that scared ‘em,” Glaukos said.

Cass waved her arm again, giving the distant strangers a chance to be friendly. She saw them moving, but neither appeared to wave.

An arrow sprouted from the sand a few yards away from them.

“Okay, they’re not gonna be friends,” Cass said. She lifted her swordspear up with her left hand and flipped it around, holding it like a javelin. Using her right hand to aim, she threw it. The whisper of it cutting through the air faded quickly, and a moment later the shadowy pursuers separated again.

This time they didn’t come back together; they retreated up over a dune and out of sight.

“Huh, guess the spear is scarier than the arrow,” Glaukos said, slinging his bow over his shoulders.

“Sure is bigger,” Cass said, walking toward the hill. “Let’s go see if they left anything behind.”

“I don’t wanna smell whatever they probably left behind.” Glaukos laughed.

They crossed the sand, taking longer than Cass had expected. The strangers had been further away than she’d thought. Once they were close enough for her to grab the long, heavy weapon, movement at the top of the dune caught her attention.

She pulled the swordspear up and stepped in front of Glaukos as a shadow emerged over the crest and stepped toward the. It paused and lifted its hands, carefully pulling back the hood of their cloak.

“Mica?” Cass asked, bewildered.

“I come in peace,” Mica said.

“What are you doing out here?” Glaukos asked.

“I was trying to find out who was following us. By the time I got here, you had them running off on their horses and I couldn’t get a good look at them.”

“How did you get out here?”

“I walked.”

Mica’s sarcastic tone didn’t invite deeper questioning, and when Glaukos tried Cass reached out and touched his arm.

“Let’s just all head back. They’re one, right?” she asked Mica.

“Yeah, long gone.”

“Alright, we should tell everyone to calm down. There’s still a few hours until sunrise, so we can go a bit further before setting up camp.”

----------
Notes:
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Glaukos was talking to Kebb about Camel Jumping, an activity he took part in in Chapter 70
- 300 podes was an ancient greek measurement of approximately 90 meters / 295 feet, a little bit longer than a typical olympic archer nowadays. Yes, Glaukos is good at archery

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written March 29th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 120

Cass rode at the rear of the caravan, keeping an eye on the endless sea of sand. She occasionally turned partway around to check behind and see if they were being followed. Seeing in the dark was easier for her when she stayed so far behind the others; the torchlight didn’t ruin her night vision.

Looking forward again, Cass saw one figure from the caravan waiting off to the side.

Anatu; slight frame, short and asymmetrical straw-colored hair. The opposite of Cass’s tall, buff build and thick, long, black hair.

They extinguished their torch after letting the rest pass. When Cass was closer, they touched their breast and bowed their head to her.

A rare gesture of respect from them. Cass was on her guard.

“Cassandra,” they said.

“What do you want?”

“An excuse to be away from Kebb.”

Cass didn’t know what to make of that.

Anatu rolled their eyes. “Don’t act more confused than usual. You know what a pain in the ass he is.”

“Understandably.”

“And now I’m the target for his anger since you emboldened him.”

“Are you really trying to get pity from me?”

Anatu took a deep breath and exhaled, then shook their head. “No, I’m not asking for pity. I’m only giving you an explanation for why I’m here.”

“You could have just stayed quiet, for all I care.”

“And you would have liked me just coming back here and saying nothing?”

“Yep.” Cass thought it would have been weird, and she probably would have said something first if Anatu hadn’t started with a greeting.

“Well, then you’ve achieved tiers of self-confidence I can only aspire to.”

“Uh-huh.” Cass lifted an eyebrow, not sure what Anatu meant by that. Without a follow-up of her own, or anything else from Anatu, she continued to ride in silence.

A few minutes later she glanced their way and caught them looking at her. They looked away quickly.

“Something on your mind?” Cass asked.

After a hesitation, Anatu said, “I don’t think I thanked you for helping me yesterday. When I was drinking.”

“Heheh, I’m surprised you can remember anything.”

Anatu shook their head. “Only parts. Most of that night is a blank.”

“Happens to everyone.”

“Well, thank you. For taking are of me.”

“No problem,” Cass said. “I figured you’d be hard on yourself if you embarrassed yourself.”

“I-”

“And you’ve got Kebb for that.”

Anatu snorted and cackled before covering their mouth. That stupid laugh got Cass to chuckle also.

“You’re right,” Anatu said after the giggle fit passed. “But I still want to thank you, and apologize.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Cass said. She stayed quiet about the apology.

After a quiet beat, Anatu continued. “Well, then, I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For… everything?”

“Try and be more specific.”

Anatu looked forward for a few moments. Cass looked forward toward the caravan as well. Then she looked back behind them again. Some movement on a far dune caught her attention, but after a few breaths there was nothing.

“I’m sorry for the hostility,” Anatu started. “I’m sorry for talking down to you and claiming you weren’t a real general. I’m sorry about dismissing your feelings about slavery and downplaying their part in my work.”

Cass nodded along at every point Anatu said. She wasn’t about to forgive them for any of it, but it was tracking with all of the reasons they had to not like the traitor.

“Anything else?” they asked.

Cass thought about it. “Probably, but I can’t think of it. You okay with floating some future apologies?”

“Of course,” Anatu said.

“Alright. Then we’re good for now.”

Anatu nodded their head and looked ahead again. There was an air of tension about them. Cass saw the way they fidgeted with the reins of their camel.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“No, I… er…” Anatu took a breath. “The, um, trophy.”

“Trophy?”

“The… the head.”

“Oh, that’s not a trophy.” Cass looked at the caravan ahead of them, at the cart that carried their supplies as well as the head that contained the preserved head of the Emperor. “No, I don’t keep things like that.”

She thought she smelled the sickly sweet scent of the sap mixture used to keep the head from rotting. A chill went down her spine.

Looking away from the caravan, Cass glanced behind again to distract herself.

More motion. Two fingers atop a dune.

“Well,” Anatu continued, “regardless, I was wondering if I could-”

“Hold on,” Cass said, lifting their hand and pointing. “I think we’re being followed.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Cass helped Anatu while they were drinking in Chapters 102, 106, and 107
- Anatu told Cass she wasn’t a real general in Chapters 45 and 46

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written March 24th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 119

The caravan moved off of the path to rest in a valley between sand dunes. Cass kept her distance from Anatu and Kebb, who mutually kept theirs from her. She was sitting with Iuven, leaning against Fariba’s cart, and nursing the bowl of hot something-she-couldn’t-pronounce that Kher had served.

As usual, it was spicy.

“This is ridiculous,” Cass muttered between slow, deep breaths. Sucking in as much of the cool night air as she could to ease the burn on her tongue on the inhale, each exhale felt like breathing fire and re-ignited the flame.

“Mmhm.” Iuven agreed, sipping on the bowl of lassi Kher had provided them. There wasn’t much, and the fruity smell didn’t appeal much to Cass. It reminded her of wine, but she knew from its milky consistency that it wasn’t alcohol in any way.

“You should try it,” Iuven said, handing the bowl over to Cass as she fanned her mouth. “It helps.”

“I’ll wait it out,” Cass grumbled. “Keep talking about that Lacus guy.”

“Right.” Iuven set the bowl down and scratched his chin where the first thin patches of stubble were starting to show. “Well, after he got Fariba’s token-”

“Little steel thing, right?”

“I think it was gold.”

“Didn’t look that gold.”

“Well it was valuable.” Iuven shrugged. “After they got that they got real nice to us. They showed us around the dragon boneyard…” The young man continued to reiterate the previous night.

Cass nodded along, following the story but occasionally peppering in questions about the bandits that had threatened him and his friend. She avoided asking too many questions about the young man he was with. Cass didn’t need Cit to notice that whenever the subject came up Iuven got flustered and aloof.

She might poke fun at that later. But for now, she wasn’t in a playful mood.

Thinking about Cit brought to mind the post-battle discussions they’d have. Well… lectures, really, but Cass still felt they were effective.

“So, what’d you learn?” she asked.

“Huh?”

Cass took another sip of the spicy stew and exhaled fire. “What did… haaaah... what did you learn?”

“Learn from…?”

“From the whole… thing… with the bandits and the boyfriend?”

Iuven’s face was already red from the meal, yet somehow got redder. “I-I… I, uh…”

Cass didn’t interrupt. Sometimes she needed to figure out how to say something, too. She was about to take another sip of the spicy stew but opted out for the moment.

“I learned how to use my spear to spray sand at people?” Iuven said.

“You told me that part. I want to know what you learned about being a leader.”

“But I wasn’t a leader. The old man with the torch was the one leading-”

“No no.” Cass balanced the bowl in one hand and held up a finger. “You were taking this other guy out with you.”

“We were going on a tour.”

“Take a step back and think about the situation,” Cass said. “You know your capabilities, you don’t know what everyone around you can do. As far as you were aware, you were the best fighter in the group. Even if you don’t know that, it’s best to assume.”

“But-”

“Hold on, I need you to keep following me here,” Cass continued. “Now, yo were on a tour group. Safety in numbers. But you and this other guy… Quinsomething?”

“Quintus.”

“Right, Quintus. You two got separated from the group.”

“That was an accident!”

“Yeah, accidents happen.” Cass nodded slowly. “But you gotta take charge of a situation like that. Pay attention to your surround-”

“We were paying attention. We got snuck up on. It doesn’t matter how much attention you pay if you get snuck up on like that.”

“Listen, you can make all the excuses you want, and I’m not saying that you gotta act like a sovereign leader every time you’re in a sticky situation, but you gotta take action.”

“I did-”

“Yeah, you did. And what did you learn?”

Iuven was quiet for a moment. Cass took another sip of the too-spicy soup.

“Flame that’s hot,” she said, reaching for the lassi.

“I learned not to get separated from the group,” Iuven said, handing it to her.

“Good lesson to learn,” she said. Cass took a sip of the creamy drink and felt relief as the burn was washed off of her tongue and lips.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, not to eat Kher’s cooking without more of this.” She took another sip of the fruity drink.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Iuven’s tale is detailed in chapters 69, 86, 87, 97, 98, 99, 103, 104, and 114
- Fariba’s token was made of electrum; a gold/silver alloy

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written March 16th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 118

Cass held the charred remains of Helen’s letter in trembling hands. Glaukos managed to save much of it, but the flames spread fast and while the papyrus still had a lot of its mass, black streaks across the paper made much of the writing unreadable, if present at all.

Kebb had already beat a hasty retreat while Cass was distracted with grabbing the remains from the sand Glaukos had doused the flames with. It was a good thing Kebb had fallen back, because Cass wasn’t sure what she’d do if she saw him.

“Fariba raises a proposition,” the other half of the struggle over the letter said, their tone unusually muted and soft. “There are techniques known to the merchants of Shen that can extract information from attempts to mask. Be it spilled ink or flame.”

“You can fix it?” Cass asked, her chest and jaws tight.

“An attempt can be made.”

“Okay, you fix this.” Cass shoved the burnt paper at Fariba, who took it gingerly, then hopped off her camel. “I’m gonna go kill Kebb.”

Glaukos stepped in front of her. “Alright Cass, how about you take a breath and-”

“And then rip him in half like a loaf of bread?”

“I was thinking we just tell Anatu that-”

“Why would I tell Anatu? They’re not in charge. I am.”

“Yeah, you are, but they have a history together.” Glaukos looked back towards the cart and Cass followed his gaze. Kebb was arguing with Anatu, who looked like they were about to cause a riot. Cass didn’t understand Deshereyan but Kebb was wilting under Anatu’s verbal onslaught.

Cass watched Anatu berate Kebb. She imagined her former Master yelling at her again got a chill. At the start of everything, when Cass killed him, it had been hard. If Helen hadn’t been there to drive her on and end the pathetic, fat man's existence, none of them would be here now.

“Yeah.” Glaukos patted her arm. “Maybe we should keep moving on?”

The shouting got louder. Anatu was dragging Kebb by the arm towards her.

“Yaetadhir!” Anatu shouted at him. Kebb’s muttered reply was inaudible but Anatu just shoved him to the sand and repeated it.

“Hey!” Cass matched Anatu’s tone, freezing them in their tracks. She was pissed at Kebb, but he wasn’t a slave anymore and couldn’t be treated like that.

“Kebb has something to say,” Anatu said, taking a step back.

“Then he can say it. You don’t push him around like that anymore.”

Anatu looked perplexed. “I thought you were angry at him for destroying your letter.”

“I am,” Cass glared at Kebb. “But he’s a free man, and you don’t get to treat him like that.”

“I was just-”

“Shut up!”

“Cass…” Glaukos reached out for her arm but hesitated.

“Casandra,” Kebb said as he rose from the ground, “I am very-”

“Everyone just stop talking!” Cass needed a moment. Glaukos wanted her to breathe earlier but she just wanted to break something, or someone. She turned away from the three of them and walked away toward Fariba’s cart, paused, then walked off into the sands.

Climbing a dune with heavy steps, she crested it and sat down on the gentler windward slope. A few minutes of quiet so she could-

“Bunch of idiots and assholes, right?”

Cass jerked to the side, away from Mica.

“Where the…” Cass looked around then back at the small woman. “Where did you come from?”

“Followed you, duh. So, which one pissed you off this time?”

“All of them. You, too.”

“Me?”

“I came here for quiet.”

Mica nodded.

Cass looked at her, waiting. Mica remained silent.

“Kebb, burned a letter I got from Helen, because he didn’t want Fariba to read it.” Cass huffed. “Then Anatu started shoving him around like they owned him again, and everyone was telling me to calm down and I just want to…”

She looked down at her clenched fists. Her left hand, wrapped in bandages, was no longer bony or in pain. It was a match for olive-toned right arm. With the sun down, if she unwrapped it she would see the starry expanse in the cursed skin.

The power coursed through her. She could shut them all up with such ease.

Cass looked at Mica. “You’re more than just sneaky, And you can kill people.”

Mica nodded.

“You ever get the urge to just… do it?”

Mica nodded.

“How do you not?”

Cass looked at Mica, who looked back; the smaller woman’s features were hard to make out in the dim starlight. Her expression unreadable.

“You want to hurt or kill people right now,” she said. “You’re not. You’re here. That’s how I do it.”

“It’s so easy to kill someone with this.” Cass held up her bandaged arm, holding it out and away from herself.

“Not any easier than killing someone with this.” Mica flicked her wrist and a knife slid out of her sleeve and into her palm. “Or this,” she did the same with her other hand. “I’ve got more, but I made my…” She hesitated.

“You were gonna say ‘point’.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Glaukos would never let you live it down.”

“Glaukos is a camel’s ass,” Mica said, putting her knives back up her sleeves. “And Kebb is an ass kisser. Not a camel-ass-kisser, but whoever’s in charge. Right now it’s Helen, but kissing her ass is your job.”

“Hey!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Cass couldn’t, so she sighed, bowed her head, and gestured for Mica to continue.

“That was it. My not-a-point is, no one’s perfect and I’m sure if any of them had the guts to slap you, you’d get just as much as you want to give.” She stood up and brushed sand off of her cloak. "Now count to ten or something, take a few breaths, then catch up. We've got to keep going to stay on schedule." With a half-mocking bow, Mica slid down the leeward side of the dune.

----------
Notes:
- Theme: Mica gives Cass a light roasting
- Bonus words: Raise, riot, rose
- Bonus constraint: Anatu regrets treating Kebb like a slave again
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- “Yaetadhir” is an approximation of Deshereyan (arabic/ancient egyptian) for “apologize”

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written March 8th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 117

Cass inhaled the warm air of the desert as she emerged from the tunnel. Nihimlaq hadn’t been particularly stuffy, but the fresh air above ground had a different taste to it; an invigorating quality. To her right, the eastern horizon was already dark and star-speckled, but on the left, the edge of the sky was still dimming, pink and purple.

Back on the road, she thought. Not a literal road; that had stopped two days before Nihimlaq. But they were once again northward-bound. If they made good time, they’d be in Salach in eight days, over halfway to Keygroph.

“Stop traveling with us,” Anatu said, irritation edging their words. Cass suspected they were still hungover, despite the hearty breakfast Kebb all but force-fed them to help them recover.

“Fariba of Shen is not ‘traveling with you’!” the enigmatic merchant said.

More like ‘proclaimed’, Cass thought with a grin. She wasn’t sure if Fariba merely ‘said’ anything.

“Fariba is traveling on their own,” they continued. “On the same road, to the same destination. Fariba and the caravan of Cassandra the Great and Magnanimous just so happens, by the merest of coincidences or mayhaps the vicissitudes of fate, to have departed at the same time.”

“Fine, then travel away from us.”

“You and your companions are more than welcome to stand aside and allow Fariba of Shen to gain a lengthy advance.”

“What? Wait? Us? You-” Anatu bit back their words and muttered something Cass could not near before continuing. “Your cart is twice as large as ours, and there are almost a dozen of us.”

“These numbers are factually accurate, Fariba agrees. But they do not change that the issue at hand lies with you and yours, not with the number of camels or size of wagons.”

“I like traveling with Fariba,” Cass said. It wasn’t exactly true, she had her own issues with the merchant. They were irritating in many ways. But they were pissing Anatu off, which made them more entertaining than annoying at the moment.

They looked at Cass with betrayal, anger, pain, and exhaustion in their eyes. Cass knew the look. She’d been hungover on a long march more times than she could count. She might have pitied them in other circumstances, but the war was over and they weren’t marching off to lead friends to their deaths.

They could suffer just a bit.

“And Fariba of Shen quite enjoys the company of Cassandra the Mighty!”

“Okay, let’s all calm things down,” Kebb said quickly, his placating tone so thick it could have smothered someone. “Fariba, would you like to join us on this next portion of our journey?”

“Hmm… no,” Fariba quipped, dropping the reins to throw their arms up in the air emphatically. “You have been rude and uncouth. However! Fariba is nothing if not magnanimous and will allow you to travel as part of Fariba’s caravan.”

“You don’t even have a caravan.” Anatu’s voice trembled with anger. Cass almost wanted to goad them further. “You’re traveling alone.”

“Alone?” Fariba gestured at Cass, ahead to where Iuven and Maar were lighting their torches, and back towards Glaukos and Kher and the wagon. “Fariba is traveling with many friends.”

Before Anatu could say anything, a loud whistle from the rear of the caravan caught everyone’s attention. Mica was riding up beside someone on a horse. The newcomer was not dressed for desert travel. Rather, they looked like they had just gotten up and out of bed, and were wrapped up in a thick quilt.

“Cass,” Mica said. “This guy said he’s got a letter for you.”

“A letter?”

“From Dehenet,” the blanket-wrapped person said. She recognized his voice; the hawker. He handed over the folded paper.

“Hey! I asked if there was any messages,” Glaukos said, riding up after overhearing the exchange.

“You didn’t have any,” the hawker said.

“But I was asking for Cass.”

“I ain’t given’ anyone anyone else’s letters.” The hawker clicked his tongue, turning his horse back towards the town.

Cass was giving the letter her full attention. She unfolded it and recognized the writing at once as Helen’s, and confirmed it by looking for the mark at the bottom that she always put on messages for her.

“What does it say?” Kebb asked, riding his camel closer and holding his torch higher. The light stung her arm, even through the bandages she had wrapped around it, and she turned away from him.

“I can’t read it,” she said; slaves had never been afforded the luxury of literacy, and years of war hadn’t given her an opportunity to sit and learn either.

“Please, Cassandra the Great, allow Fariba of Shen to convey to you to the meaning of the message you hold,” Fariba said, riding around to Cass’s other side without a torch in hand. “Fariba owes you many favors and this is the least of them that can be done.”

“You can’t read that!” Kebb said, sudden hostility in his tone. “It is from High Priestess Helen.”

“How do you know that?” Cass asked.

“You wrote her, and it’s from Dehenet.”

“Oh, yeah.” Cass looked at the paper, then back at Fariba and held it out to them.

“I shall interpret immediately!” They rode around Cass and over to Kebb, reaching out to grab his torch, but Kebb was having none of it.

“Give me that,” he said, trying to grab the letter out of Fariba’s grip.

“Nonsense!” Fariba struggled against Kebb while trying to take his torch. “Cassandra the Strong and Powerful entrusted this task to me!”

“Hey, stop, you’re going to rip it!” Cass said. She tried to get closer, but with the torch flickering around it was difficult. A moment later, both Kebb and Fariba yelled and the message fell to the sand, aflame.

“Got it!” Glaukos said, leaping from his camel and landing at an angle, covering the burning parchment with sand.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Fariba stone Anatu’s camel in Chapter 3

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written March 1st, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 116

Nuut tied the final knots to her saddle and mounted the camel. The rest of the group was ready enough that she took her position at the back of the group in anticipation of leaving. Nuut preferred riding in advance of the group, to keep an eye on what was coming up ahead and to keep herself distant from the wahsh.

Nuut was glad to be leaving Nihimlaq. The delay - even if only a single day - in the journey was interminable given how long the trek was going to be. Three more weeks with the pigfuckers, the hedonists, the mongrel, the sneak, and the traitor.

Glaring at the back of Anatu’s head, Nuut felt the first inkling of uncertainty. Was she more angry at the wahsh for what she had done to her leg? Or at Anatu for betraying their bloodline and serving the Haytwa?

“Collecting silk?” Mica asked.

Nuut turned her glare to the small woman, who met the ire with a cold defiance that reminded Nuut there was something off about her. She still was unsure what Mica had seen or heard, knew or guessed, but the lack of hostility from the wahsh made her confident that the ice in the smaller woman’s eyes was suspicion and nothing more.

There would be no further opportunities for Mica to eavesdrop on her. The deal was struck and the Vultures were circling. She just needed to wait three more days.

“Hmph.” Nuut looked ahead. The group was moving, so she gave her camel a quick squeeze with her legs and flicked the reins to get it moving forward. Mica’s lingering stare annoyed her, but Nuut could avoid it easily enough.

Just in front of the two of them was her sibling, Nuu. They were reading a scroll they had acquired during the extended stay in Nihimlaq. Whatever it was about, she hadn’t the faintest idea. They’d probably told her but her mind had been otherwise occupied while in town. Something to do with the town's history, likely as not. Nuu was always fascinated with such trivial matters.

Beside them was Maar, the medicinewoman who thought too highly of herself and her station. The colorful arm bands she wore bragged of wealth and hedonistic tendencies to the world, like all of her people. No subtlety, no tact, no humility.

The two of them followed closely the wagon with the group’s supplies and belongings. Those that people could not carry on their own mounts, at least. Nuut had nothing to stow on the cart, preferring to travel light. Kher, the overly-plump Shennese man with his gaudy beard beads, sat on the cart to drive it. Alongside him was the child soldier from Harenae, who wore a warrior’s helm without the strength of arm or experience in battle to have earned it.

Ahead of them were three of the four pigfuckers. The wahsh and her barrel-chested lover, along with the beanpole. She spared them little thought.

The two leading the group as they headed toward the tunnel out of Nihimlaq were the other pigfucker and the traitor. The former had been the slave of the latter before the war, and when Anatu turned on their people their pigfucking slave, Kebb, had naturally come with them. Now he was their ‘equal’ and, Nuut suspected, a spy for the Haytwa, Helen.

Nuut looked back over her shoulder as she passed the threshold into the tunnel, getting one last look at Nihimlaq. The last bastion of Deshereyan society she was going to enjoy for some weeks. The picturesque vista tugged at her heart. She lamented being unable to find any pudding treats. Out in the desert it was hard for such desserts to surface, and with Desheret’s border looming she doubted she would enjoy any of her home cuisine until they made the journey back.

Whatever swill they serve in Chol is going to upset my stomach, she thought, lip curling in anticipation of disgust.

The wahsh whistled up ahead and her screeching voice echoed in the tunnel.

“Let’s pick up the pace!” she said. “The sooner we get to Keygroph, the sooner we can turn around and get back to Dehenet.”

Nuut could not have agreed more. The woman’s utilitarian attitude was rather efficient.

Emerging into the dusklit desert, Nuut swore at herself. She could not, under any circumstance, agree with the wahsh.

----------
Notes:
- Wahsh - pronounced ‘waysh’ - is the Deshereyan term for “monster”, which Nuut has been calling Cass since Chapter 19
- Haytwa - pronounced ‘hate-wah’ - is the Deshereyan term for ‘demon’ or ‘demoness’, based on “Hatayw” which (according to google) is ‘murderers/night spirits’. - ‘Pigfucker’ is a slur used by Nuut and by closeminded Deshereyans to demean and belittle people from Sammos

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written February 22nd, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 115

Kher wiped sweat off of his brow with a silk handkerchief. The skylight over Nihimlaq was revealing the first stars of the night, but the cavernous town was still quite warm. He muttered a curse against the heat and against the lack of stable hands to aid him with these preparations.

The young Iuven’s help earlier in getting the cart and camels prepared had been a saving grace for Kher. He was slow this evening, but had much to do to get ready for travel. A poor night’s sleep was doing him no favors; his lower back ached and his stomach churned with indigestion. He sipped rose water to help with the latter but the former was going to take time and patience to work out.

His dour mood had nothing to do with his back, belly, the lack of help, or even the heat. It was centered around the strand of grey hair he had found in his beard while braiding it after waking. Weaving the colorful menagerie of beads in place was a time consuming, yet wonderfully meditative process. When he found the grey hair, though, he was reminded of the many years between him and his youth.

Kher’s spirit was too obtuse to listen to his aging back. He leaned into the cart and shoved one of the heavy barrels, letting his weight do most of the work. Wood grated against wood and the water barrel shifted obliquely. His grip slipped, causing him to smack his forehead into the barrel and his stomach scrape against the edge of the wagon.

“Petyr soothtek!” he swore, stepping back and rubbing his belly.

“Language.”

Kher half-turned, surprised to see Cass approaching. Her massive swordspear slung so casually across her unbandaged shoulder. He knew her strength was magically great, but seeing her hold the weapon with such ease still impressed him. Kher was no weakling, and had tried to lift her weapon once while searching the cart for ingredients while

“Cassandra,” Kher said in greeting. “I was not aware that you understood the language of Shen.”

“Just ‘Cass’. I don’t.” She shrugged. “But I know a few swear words in every language. Like… I know ‘karekh khado’ as well.

“Cass, my apologies.” Kher bowed his head, braids of beads in his beard clacking a-melodically. “I sometimes forget that you are a very worldly Sammosan.”

“Not entirely by choice.” She stepped closer to the cart and looked inside. “Trying to move something?”

“I need that barrel,” Kher said, pointing, “over there.”

Cass put her spear down by the side of the cart, leaned in, and effortlessly slid the full barrel into position.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Well, if you are offering, those two crates in the back should really be moved closer to the front here so that I may access them when we make camp come sunrise.”

Cass climbed into the wagon and started moving crates and barrels around at Kher’s instruction. What he thought was going to take him more than two hours of back-aching work, she was able to accomplish in minutes.

“I am ever so thankful for your assistance,” Kher said when Cass had finished moving the last box. She jumped out of the wagon and patted him on the back.

“Any time,” she said, grabbing her swordspear again. “So I can just stick this between these barrels here, right?”

“But of course!” Kher stepped aside and let her put her weapon in the back of the cart. He looked at the long, sleek Majlel steel and was surprised he had not noticed it before. It had once been black but now had the tell-tale sheen of the valuable metal from Shen.

“Cass, I have been curious,” Kher said.

“About what?”

“The origin of your weapon; I have never seen its like.”

Cass looked back at the swordspear for a moment. “Oh yeah, I think it’s one of a kind? Or pretty rare. Cit had it made for me when we were in Shen a year or two ago.”

“I see,” Kher said, nodding appraisingly. “It is made from Majlel steel.”

“Yeah, Cit said it’s a really strong metal.”

“The finest of metals, produced by the finest artisans in Shen,” Kher said, proud of his people’s work. “I had not noticed it before when I held it. Now I can see the subtle iridescent sheen of the blade and handle.”

“Oh, yeah, it was pretty dirty. I had it sharpened by the blacksmith here, looks like they polished it too.”

Kher felt something inside of him flinch. That such a valuable and rare trophy would be left to gather such… filth to seem as black as night?

The urge to smack Cassandra and tell her off for her irreverent irresponsibility was tempered only by the years between them. Younger, more foolhardy Kher might have succumbed to such an impolite and improper reaction.

Instead, he smiled and nodded.

“Keeping a weapon like that properly cleaned is a very important task,” he said.

“Yeah, Cit was always talking about that too.” Cass shrugged and made to walk away. “Never seemed to make a difference; with how strong I am I could cut through stone with the blunt end of a butterknife.”

Kher nodded and waited for her to leave before unclenching his jaw and rubbing his temples. The amount of Majlel steel in her weapon - the entirety of its composition - and the time it would have taken to forge something of its size would be enough to make even Fariba of Shen blush.

He lifted the end of the handle and felt the weight against his palm. Even if he had someplace to take it to for better care, he could not move it on his own.

Kher sighed.

I will have to teach her the importance of weapon maintenance, he resolved.

----------
Notes:
- Theme: Kher is the oldest member of the group and he is feeling his age.
- Bonus words: Obtuse, oblique(ly), origin
- Bonus constraint: Cass’s swordspear is only a couple years old
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1
- Cass’s swordspear is made of “Majlel steel”, this world’s equivalent of Damascus Steel - “Petyr soothtek” is based on “Petar sookhteh”, which, according to google, is a Persion idiom for “Burned father”, which is originally more of an affectionate term similar to “little rascal” - “Karekh khado” is based on “Khareh khodah”, which, according to google, means “God’s donkey"

Original Prompt

------------------------
Originally written February 15th, 2026
------------------------

Chapter 114

Iuven floated in a comfortable haze between awake and asleep. Faint light coming through the cracks in the door highlighted Quintus’s form beside him. A dreamlike figure. He hoped this was not just a dream.

Quintus rolled over, bringing his sleeping face closer to Iuven. The warmth was invigorating. Another new experience; waking up beside someone after spending an amazing night and day with them.

“I think I love you,” Iuven whispered. He traced his fingers along Quintus’s side, up to his cheek.

“I love you too,” Quintus muttered.

“Ah!” Iuven flailed in surprise and rolled off of the bed, landing with a dull smack on the smooth stone floor.

Quintus laughed. “Well that’s one way to wake up.”

Iuven stammered, trying to find words. His face burned with embarrassment as his backside chilled on the cold rock beneath him.

Quintus yawned and stretched, the dim light still highlighting him with a mesmerizing glow. His curly blonde hair almost shimmered in the dark. He reached down and touched Iuven’s cheek, then his shoulder.

“Come on, get up,” he said. Iuven took the offered hand and Quintus pulled him up to his feet. He kissed him, and negated the embarrassment.

Quintus asked, “Light a candle? I can’t see anything.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Iuven carefully felt his way over to a shelf by the door where a half-melted candle from the night before rested. He cracked open the door, peaked outside to make sure the hall was empty, and reached out to light the candle from a torch.

“Here you go.” He put the candle back on the shelf, giving him and Quintus enough light to find their robes and dress.

They left the room and went down to the tavern to get something to eat. It was still light out and the heat of the desert day hadn’t yet faded. Mica was already at a table eating stew and looking half-dead.

“Mica? Are you okay?” Iuven asked. She shook her head. “Are you feeling sick?”

“I just slept like shit,” Mica muttered, dipping some bread into the stew and nibbled on it. “Forgot to cut the candle wick or something… everything smells like smoke.” She took a slow breath and started coughing.

Iuven leaned back. “Oh, sorry. Anything I can-”

“No,” Mica said between coughs. “Just need to breathe it out.”

Iuven looked back to Quintus, who shrugged. Iuven shrugged as well and left Mica to clear her lungs. They were on their way to the bar to get some food when Kher stepped in front of them, beard beads clacking a-melodically.

“Iuven! Just who I was looking for!” the massive man said, grabbing Iuven by the shoulders. “Come! We must finish preparing the cart and camels.”

“But I-”

“I promise you, young man, that there will be plentiful food after we have completed our task. Now come! Hurry! Time is of the essence!”

Kher all but dragged Iuven out of the tavern. Much to his relief, and chagrin, Quintus opted to follow along, chuckling. Kher was happy to have the other Haranae lad along as they got to work finding everyone’s camel in the stables and hitching two of them up to the cart.

Quintus took the opportunity to cash-in on the implied favor of his assistance by having Kher and Iuven help him ready camels for his own party as well.

“It seems we’re both leaving Nihimlaq today,” Quintus said. They both knew that they were departing, and going in opposite directions, but Iuven had no better way to say it. Once Kher stepped away to give them a moment, the pair embraced and held each other. The nascent feelings of connection and desire tempting them both with ideas of simply… staying here. Together.

But neither of them could bring themself to say it, let alone do it. They were Harenae. They were soldiers. Their duty was everything. Quintus was to escort his mother and sister to the capital and meet up with the rest of their family. Iuven was to escort Cassandra to Keygroph.

After that, though? Who knew.

“I should be in Salach before you reach Dehenet,” Iuven said. “I’ll write you.”

“You go to Keygroph after Salach, yes?” Quintus asked. When Iuven nodded, he continued, “then I’ll write back then. We can hope our duties bring us together again.”

“I’ll strive to find a reason to return to Dehenet.”

They released each other and parted ways. Iuven went back to the tavern, his stomach churning and fingers twitching. He needed to eat but he also needed to do something. Kher would likely have another chore for him.

Back at the tavern, Glaukos waved him over to the table Mica had been eating at. She was asleep, face half-pressed into a soggy loaf of bread.

“What happened?” Iuven whispered.

“She passed out,” Glaukos said. “Was awake just long enough to tell Cass someone had come by to deliver her swordspear then closed her eyes and…” he gestured at the sleeping Mica, stifling a laugh with his other hand. “Do you have any charcoal? I want to write on her face.”

“I think she’d literally kill you.”

“Maybe, but it’d be worth it!” Glaukos cackled, grabbing a cup.

“Do it and I’ll geld you,” Mica muttered. Glaukos choked on his drink and spat it out on the table, coughing.

----------
Notes:
- It has been 11 in-universe days since Chapter 1