The sun had begun setting behind the endless dunes, as Mulad approached the city gate. It was tall and made of bricks of condensed sand. Upon the castle's wall sat guards with bows resting around their shoulders. It was obvious that they weren't paying attention to Mulad, or much of anything else for that matter. They had probably gotten drunk because of their carelessness. Which was something that was quite commonplace for the guards of the oasis city.
Walking through the gate, Mulad noticed the bustle of the city had begun dying down. Though this was the case, the sound of the street merchants and their clients still penetrated throughout the area. Many different people of many different ethnicities were crowding the streets. That being the case it was highly unlikely that one would ever see anyone who looked quite like Mulad.
Mulad had naturally pale skin, which was tanned away by the oppressing desert sun. Along with that the light blue eyes and light blonde hair that he exhibited had an aura unfamiliarity to the fellow residents in the oasis city. Not to mention the missing arm.
As he walked through the crowded streets toward the tavern, many passersby stared at him. Mulad though fully aware of it was completely unbothered. He had gotten used to it after many years of living there. What more with his newly regained sight, he found himself subconsciously staring at others as well.
Hidden within Mulad's hand he had held the soul stone. His plan was to sell it to a man who wore a turban at the tavern he was heading over to. The man had told him of the location of a demon scarab beetle beast. The same one that had left him on brink of death and without an arm.
"Tch- If I knew this job was going to be that dangerous I wouldn't have done it in the first place."
Nothing could alleviate the foul mood onset by him dwelling on the misinformation, he was given by the deceitful turban man.
In front of Mulad was a two-story structure of sand, not unlike the other sand huts of the city. But unlike the other buildings, this one was draped in crimson silk fabrics trimmed with golden tassels. The roof was domed and larger than the neighboring ones.
Stepping inside, laughs were heard echoing through the dim hall's interior. The walls were painted with crude artistry of people riding horses into battle. Crimson red carpets covered the ground underneath Mulad's step. He could feel the carpet bristles sat firmly between his open toes.
Turning the corner into the tabled region of the tavern, he noticed the man who sent him to retrieve the stone. He was brown-skinned and fat. He wore a bulbous red turban upon his head that made him immediately stand out from the rest of tavern patrons.
Flexing his vocal cord as to call out to him and get his attention, Mulad is then stopped by the drunken conversation he was having with his buddies.
"Bahahaha. That's when I told him If he brought it back, I'd pay him, 20 coppers."
A skinnier fellow sitting across from him spoke, "Well, do you think he'll survive."
Mulad at hearing this popped back behind the corner so that he could discretely eavesdrop on their conversation.
The turban man's voice was faintly received by Mulad as having said, "Pfft. No, I'd be surprised If he hadn't died already. I only sent him out to injure the beetle, so that It would bleed out by the time I got to it."
The skinny man replied, "Oh, that's a great idea."
They both started laughing.
Mulad was not pleased. He fingered his blade and slowly slid it out, stopping halfway. What he wanted to do was far too risky.
Letting gravity slide the blade back into its scabbard he let out a sigh and rounded the corner.
With Mulad's approach, the turban man's immediate reaction was one of disbelief.
With a falsified smile and incredulous tone, he called out, "Hey kiddo! so you didn't do it I assume. It's okay. For a boy like you, it's best if you stick to begging anyways."
Mulad walked up to the table while trying to disguise his disgust and anger behind a veil of detachment.
The turban man's gaze was attracted to his stubbed arm. He then perplexedly asked, "Say, boy, didn't you have an arm before?"
"I did." Mulad aggressively responded.
Lifting up the stone, Mulad then placed on the table before the turban man.
Taken aback a little, the turban man squinted and furrowed his brow at Mulad. His buddies sat in utter silence. As too did all the other patrons, turning to observe the rising tension.
Mulad swished his mouth around and sucked in before speaking.
"So, May I please have those 20 coppers you promised me."
The turban man after recovering from his awestruck daze slid the soul stone toward him and began pretending to inspect it.
"Hmm… W-Well you see, the thing is this soul stone is smaller than an average soul stones. That being the case I think I can give you about 2 coppers for it."
Mulad took a step back, with his mouth gaped open
Trying to hold back his rising anger, Mulad yelled accusingly, "What?! We had a deal! You said 20 coppers, so I should get 20 coppers!"
Avoiding eye contact, the turban man spoke, "Sorry, but this stone is useless. My 2 coppers to you, are just me being charitable to beggar child. "
Mulad's face twisted with anger. His left eye twitched as he shouted, "I lost my arm, and you're going to give me 2 coppers!"
Trying to fake empathy, he softly said, "I'm sorry about that… Look I'll give you 5 coppers. How does that sound?"
Unable to contain his rage any longer, Mulad yelled," How does that sound?! To me, it sounds like the words of a fat piece of shit, who gave me faulty information!"
The room was completely motionless. The tension peaked; everyone knew a fight was about to break out.
A faint, but indeed audible sound of metal sliding against metal pierced out from underneath the table. Mulad at hearing it took another step back and slowly reached down toward his scabbard. Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his dagger, the four men slid off their seats holding up scimitars.
A second later all the men fell to the ground dead. Mulad leaped from the spectacle.
Looking at them closer their heads were impaled with star-shaped metal discuses. Mulad at seeing this bounced backward, taking cover behind a table.
"Come out boy, It's just me."
It was a familiar voice, but he couldn't pin it down.
Stumbling over thoughts, Mulad stammered out, "W-Who's t-there?"
The raspy voice sighed, then grumbling, "Forget injuries, but never forget kindness."
Mulad at the realization of who it was stuck his head up saying, "You."
The mysterious foreign man tilted up his straw hat and gave a smirk.
"Hmm. I suppose that's right."
He chuckled as he walked toward Mulad. His white wooden sandals clunked on the hard-sandy floor.
Mulad spluttered, "Th-Thankyou. Uh… again."
Giving Mulad an honest smile, he said, "No matter, boy. By the way, that stone is worth at least 40 coppers."
Mulad having being reminded of it, vaulted over the table and lunged to grab it. As the stone touched, Mulad's fingertips he heard the mysterious man from behind him at the doorway.
"One must study upon their past if one is to define their future."
Grabbing the soul stone, Mulad flipped around and called out to the man, "W-Wait!"
Running for the door he looked out to see him having once again vanished leaving behind no trace.
"Damn."