"The ten people are resting. I temporarily apply medicine to the red spots on their bodies and give them herbal porridge. The issue is that their wives all committed suicide, about five of them, and the other five are missing. Even stranger, their house has been robbed of all valuable assets like money and jewelry." Aldo, opening the door and having taken off his mask, speaks calmly.
"Allow me to redecide, now I determine to evacuate the village," the village elder raises his trembling, wrinkled hand, and then suddenly collapses.
Zihao rushes to support the elder, touching his forehead.
"Elder Ta'an has a fever!" Zihao exclaims, his eyes wide, then quickly carries the elder to the bed and covers him with a thin leather blanket that is nearby.
"The elder has a fever?" Aldo raises an eyebrow, then removes his gloves, puts them in his pocket, and rushes to the side.
"He must have caught it from the others. At that time, the elder was with those who had a rash and fever," Helzard and I stand up.
"Notify everyone..." the elder says weakly before closing his eyes. We continue to look at him, waiting, but all that's left is the sound of steady breathing and silence.
"He's fallen asleep..." Helzard frowns and says.
"The elder just told us to notify, which means we are authorized to do so in his place. Let's go!" I quickly run out, Aldo steps aside to let me pass, and Helzard, still angry, follows.
"Aldo!" Zihao says, his face serious and eyes determined.
"What is it?" Aldo looks at Zihao, his face still emotionless and his voice flat.
"You should protect little Neva now. We have to follow the villagers to the new place and protect them from the cult. We will engage directly with the cult if necessary. You should think about sending Neva to a safe place," Zihao looks at Aldo with unwavering determination and smiles.
"Of course..." Aldo replies.
"Alright, now I will take care of the elder. You look after the sick and, if possible, the village surroundings, okay?" Zihao says, still smiling.
"Of course..." Aldo responds and leaves.
Time flies, and it is now the dawn of the next day. Auburn and Fermos are walking on cold dunes lit by weak sunlight. They are trudging as quickly as possible, their dead-fish eyes staring straight ahead, trying to find a place to rest on the endless orange-yellow dunes.
"We're here! A city!" Auburn suddenly exclaims, eyes sparkling with joy, squinting in delight, cheeks lifted, lips forming a bright smile.
Fermos looks ahead, astonished at the scene before him.
In the middle of the vast desert lies the bustling medieval Islamic city of Al-Miraj, spreading around an oasis with lush date palms highlighting a shimmering blue lake, clear as a mirror, the lifeblood and soul of the city. The skyline of the city is a mesmerizing mosaic of sun-baked adobe buildings, white walls, and domes, adorned with slender minarets of mosques echoing melodious calls to prayer. The narrow, winding streets shaded by overhanging balconies and intricately carved wooden screens offer respite from the harsh desert sun. The air is thick with the aroma of exotic spices, fresh dates, and grilled meats, drawing locals and visitors alike to the bustling market.
The market is a vibrant tapestry of colors and sounds. Stalls overflow with a myriad of goods: silks and textiles from distant lands, glittering jewelry, hand-woven carpets, and finely crafted pottery, dyed in reds, greens, yellows, blues, purples, browns, silvers, and more. Traders, wrapped in long robes and turbans, enthusiastically barter with customers, their voices rising above the din of the crowd. Women, clad in colorful abayas and headscarves, move gracefully through the throng, their children in tow, wide-eyed at the lively spectacle. The square at the heart of the market serves as a hub for social and commercial activities. Here, a fountain fed by the oasis creates a cool respite where people gather to chat and exchange news.
The streets of the city form a labyrinthine network, each corner revealing new wonders. Skilled artisans labor in their workshops, crafting intricate metalwork, while scribes and scholars debate in shaded courtyards, their discussions punctuated by the rustle of parchment and the scratch of quills. The buildings themselves are testaments to the city's rich cultural heritage, with ornate doorways, beautifully tiled facades, and verdant courtyards filled with fragrant orange trees and blooming jasmine.
Men in the city wear a variety of traditional garments, from simple robes to elaborately embroidered kaftans, reflecting their status and occupations. Elderly men, with long white beards and wise, contemplative eyes, often gather in groups, discussing important matters over steaming cups of strong coffee. Women play vital roles in the community, managing households and participating in trade and craftsmanship. Their presence is felt throughout the city, from the bustling market stalls to the diligent, quiet workshops.
Children add innocent splashes of color and vibrancy to Al-Miraj, their laughter and shouts filling the air as they play games in shadowy alleys or splash in the cool waters of the oasis lake. Education is highly valued, and many children eagerly attend lessons at madrasas—schools with facades adorned with a rich mosaic of blue, turquoise, and white tiles forming intricate designs and calligraphy, flanked by towering minarets also decorated with similar tiles. The domes, visible at the rear, are similarly adorned and stand out in striking blue, showcasing the grandeur and artistic sophistication of local architecture. Here, they study not only religious texts but also subjects like mathematics, astronomy, and literature. The mosques in the city, distinguished by six slender minarets with multiple balconies, gracefully rise around the structure. Their exteriors are adorned with intricate stonework, and numerous windows allow natural light to illuminate the interiors, serving as centers of worship and learning. Their courtyards are filled with worshippers seeking prayer, knowledge, and solace.
When the sun starts to rise, the city turns golden, with the brick walls gently glowing in the gradually brightening light like jewels. The call to prayer echoes throughout the city, and the streets become quieter as people head to the mosques or gather at home for dinner. Lanterns are lit, casting warm, inviting reflections on the still water of the lake, creating a peaceful and magical atmosphere.
Cafes and tea houses are bustling with chatter, and the sweet smell of shisha smoke spreads through the air, mingling with the fragrance of flowers. Auburn and Fermos enter the city, constantly turning their heads to admire the bustling and thriving city, with dozens of people moving through the market, selling all sorts of goods like produce, jewelry, iron tools, cloth, silk, and more. They are wide-eyed and open-mouthed, overwhelmed by an Al-Miraj more prosperous than Azarient or Jejimon they had previously visited.
"It's time to find a horse-drawn carriage!" says Auburn.
"Yeah, let's find one," replies Fermos, still wide-eyed with astonishment.
They stride through the market, glancing around to find a transport caravan, surrounded by hundreds of people from all walks of life and genders. A middle-aged man sells silk to customers, a young, well-dressed teacher inspects and chooses suitable paper, a woman in an abaya, revealing only her eyes, leads her son to buy groceries, and a boy plays hide-and-seek. It is a chaotic, lively, and noisy scene. They had not seen such hustle and bustle for a long time after half a year in this world, mostly spent in the fields or mines as slaves from another world.
"There's a horse-drawn caravan for passengers over there, let's ask them," says Auburn, pulling Fermos' hand.
"Yeah. Let's go, those are camels!" smiles Fermos, approaching.
The man sitting on the camel-drawn carriage, whose bored face suddenly brightens up when he sees Fermos and Helzard.
"Hello, may I ask where you need to go?" the man responds cheerfully.
"Hello, we want to transport 100 people from the village in the Samel swamp area nearby to this city," replies Fermos.
"Oh, our camel caravan has up to 20 carriages, so we can certainly carry such a large number of people in one trip. May I ask if the village is easy to access?" asks the man.
"Yes, the village is on solid ground and borders the desert," smiles Fermos in response.
"That's good. The total cost will be 400 silver coins, with 4 silver coins per person per trip," the man smiles even more.
"Yes, here is the money," says Auburn, handing the man two silver coins worth 200 each.
"Cheaper than I thought, yet Zihao gave me up to 12 gold coins," whispers Fermos.
"Thank you for using our service. We will do our best to ensure you have the best trip," says the man, stepping down from the camel carriage and bowing in thanks. "That's the entire population of a village. Why do you need to move so many people?"
"Uh...," waves Fermos, and the man leans closer. "We are being targeted by a cult named Sapphic, and they are attacking the village we live in," whispers Fermos.
"Sapphic? That's what Zihao tried to warn my merchant friends about in his product. What has the cult done?" the man continues to ask.
"Enticing little girls to leave home, causing at least 11 families to break up so far," replies Auburn seriously.
"Terrible, I understand. Now I will call the others in the caravan to quickly evacuate the villagers to a safe place. Please allow me a few minutes to inform the city authorities," the man says, then runs off.
Auburn and Fermos watch the man go.
"He's kind," smiles Auburn.
"Yes. And one more thing, it seems Zihao has used his fame to spread awareness about the cult, so he's ahead in terms of communication compared to the cult," adds Fermos.
Auburn looks at Fermos with curiosity.
"What do you think about people like that? Can they really change the public's perception of the cult?" asks Auburn, eyes shining with interest.
Fermos frowns, thinking for a moment before replying, "Maybe. If Zihao uses his fame wisely, he can attract attention and make people understand the cult better. However, this also comes with risks. If not careful, the attention can become a double-edged sword."
Auburn nods, finding Fermos' words reasonable. "Yes, we are promoting that we are in a battle for justice with clear-cut right and wrong, black and white, so we need to maintain a good image. Even a small mistake can ruin all our efforts. But if done well, they will gain strong support."
Fermos looks at Auburn, a smile forming on his lips. "We will watch and support Zihao together. The important thing is to keep faith and work hard. Sooner or later, this will end."
Auburn smiles back, feeling a surge of hope. "Yes, let's hope that becomes reality."
"I wonder how Veritas' group is doing," mutters Fermos.
"They should be fine. After all, we have a bit of an advantage in physical strength," Auburn smiles reassuringly.
After a while, the man returns, followed by a caravan of 20 other camel carriages.
"Let's go pick up the villagers quickly!" says the man.
"Yeah, let's go!" replies Fermos with determination in his eyes.
And of course, things are never that easy.