The summer noon is oppressive, the sky is a deep blue with not a single white cloud, and the sunlight shines brightly as if it wants to dye the entire world in golden yellow. Veritas and Zihao begin their journey, leaving the bustling city of Tarif behind. Behind them, the tall minaret towers of the mosques with their sharp, curved arches gradually fade into the distance, leaving only the faint sound of prayer echoing in the quiet air. A sense of peace envelops them as they step into the suburbs, where the land and sky are vast, and the people seem to be completely in harmony with nature.
"Wow, to be honest, I've only seen the golden age Islamic cities, but I've never seen what the rural areas look like," Veritas says, his curious eyes wandering as he gazes thoughtfully at the surrounding grass and trees with pure innocence.
Zihao remains silent, his serious expression unchanged, quietly walking behind.
The red dirt road starts to wind through lush green fields. To the left, tall olive trees stretch slowly in the gentle breeze, their silver leaves sparkling in the sunlight. To the right, fields of golden barley sway as if trying to touch the sun. Date palm trees stand upright, their dark trunks casting wide, cool shadows, creating faint patches of shade under the harsh sunlight. They walk through these fields, occasionally crossing small stone bridges over trickling water, making the air feel even more refreshing.
The scent of dry earth mixes with the spices from nearby markets, creating a distinctive aroma of the region. The outlines of distant villages appear, with thin wisps of smoke rising from firewood stoves blending into the air, warming the atmosphere and adding to its simplicity and warmth. Veritas looks around, his face filled with surprise as he witnesses this scene for the first time.
"What are those water channels, Zihao?" Veritas asks curiously, pointing to the small water channels running through the land.
Zihao follows Veritas's gaze, frowning slightly, then answers calmly, as if explaining something he has known for a long time: "Those are qanat systems, an ancient method of channeling underground water that I've read about in old books. The people here have used it for centuries to bring water from underground springs to agricultural areas. They can irrigate large fields without needing much water from rivers, very efficient and sustainable."
Veritas nods, quietly admiring the ingenuity of the local people. He continues to observe the surroundings, his eyes unable to leave the small details in the landscape. They stop for a moment when they see a farmer gently watering the vegetable garden by the side of the road with a small scoop. The farmer looks at them, his gaze somewhat cautious but silent. Just a few seconds pass, then he resumes his work, shaking his head lightly, as if not too concerned about the appearance of the two strangers.
Veritas can't help but feel a bit strange when encountering the farmers here. Unlike in other areas (At least there should be a greeting, right? Veritas thinks to himself), they seem reserved and keep their distance from unfamiliar people. He turns to Zihao and asks softly, "What do you think of the people here? They don't seem... very friendly."
Zihao sighs, not answering immediately, but instead looks down, observing his footprints on the ground. "In rural areas like this, people tend to live in isolation, rarely interacting with strangers. It's understandable. Everyone has to take care of their own lives, and there's no time to make friends with outsiders. As long as we don't disturb them, they won't bother us."
Veritas nods, agreeing with Zihao's assessment. While the scenery here is beautiful, the atmosphere feels somewhat still, even a bit cold and gloomy. He looks up at the sky, his eyes dreamy, as if trying to spot a sign of change.
"So, what do you think about our journey? Are we just exploring the city and learning about the geography, or is there something else?" Veritas continues, his eyes full of doubt.
Zihao turns to him and smiles faintly. "We are exploring the area, but we can't deny that part of this trip is to search for other former slaves. I don't know what we'll find, but we'll definitely learn a lot from the people living here."
"Right, but..." Veritas stops, his gaze shifting to the distant hills, which are gradually fading into the thin mist. "Do you think we can find them in this vast Mikhland Empire? They hide as fast as people who are fleeing debt!"
Zihao doesn't answer right away but suppresses a laugh, raising a hand to rub his face, looking at the horizon as if deep in thought. "It may not be easy. But at least we'll try."
They continue walking along the narrow road, feeling the quietness of the suburbs, but each of them carries a vague hope in their hearts. This journey is not just about exploration, but also a search for the forgotten people, those like them, who have been trapped in the spirals of this empire.
In the midday, the scorching sunlight shines down on the red rooftops and the uneven stone roads of the small village. The air becomes stifling, yet there is a silence that envelops the place, as if every breath of the land is immersed in a slow, steady calm. After a long walk, Veritas and Zihao arrive at a rural market, where makeshift stalls of wood and fabric display all sorts of goods.
Throughout the market, vendors are chatting and inviting customers to buy. Flickering torches dance in the humid air, adding a mystical, shimmering quality to the atmosphere. Baskets of dried dates, glossy olives, and rudely made pottery are neatly arranged on old wooden tables. The goods here are not luxurious, but they carry a strange charm of this land – simplicity and honesty that everyone who visits feels a sense of familiarity and closeness.
A spice vendor stands beside his stall, a gentle smile on his face as he sees Veritas and Zihao. He invites them to try some hot peppermint tea, its aroma light and refreshing, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat of the summer.
"Try it, you two. This peppermint tea will make you feel at ease immediately," the vendor says warmly.
Veritas, always curious about the customs of the places he visits, smiles and accepts the cup. "Thank you. It's delicious!"
Zihao also takes a sip of the tea and then looks around the market. Meanwhile, the spice vendor begins to talk, his eyes filled with concern as he mentions this year's harvest.
"The rain came, so the dates are abundant this year," he says with a faint smile, "but the taxes are still too high. If we can't pay, the guards will take my sheep."
He looks around, seemingly searching for sympathy, but the people around only nod silently. No one speaks, no one dares to oppose. The atmosphere becomes heavier, as if fear is overwhelming everyone. Veritas frowns, while Zihao remains silent, his sharp eyes as if used to such stories.
At that moment, a group of Mikhland soldiers patrol the market. Their uniforms, very different from those of the villagers, are easily recognizable. The soldiers wear heavy, thick brown-yellow armor, which sharply contrasts with the thin fabric worn by the market-goers. Their armor not only protects but also features red and black trims, symbols of Mikhland's power. On their heads are sharp, spiked helmets, decorated with religious symbols and sometimes engraved with Mikhland's incantations. Notably, each soldier carries a small square shield with intricately carved Arabic characters.
One of them, with a stern expression, suddenly stops by a small dandelion growing by the roadside. He bends down, gently plucks the flower, and holds it up in front of him, admiring it as if it were a precious object. Some of the villagers exchange looks, a hint of fear in their eyes, as if they know something bad is about to happen.
Right after that, a little girl, around ten years old, walks over, her long hair flowing freely, her eyes filled with tears. She sees the dandelion in the soldier's hand, and her eyes brighten slightly, as if she has found a glimmer of hope in that small moment. However, before she can react, the soldier accidentally steps on the flower in his hand, and with a soft sound, the petals are crushed beneath his heavy step.
The little girl freezes, her eyes wide open, and then, unable to hold back, she sits down, her shoulders shaking with pain. No words escape her lips, only choking sobs. The entire market falls silent, everyone standing still, not daring to speak, not daring to approach the little girl, as if fearing that even the smallest gesture could bring trouble.
Veritas watches the scene with sorrow, while Zihao simply shakes his head, his gaze cold and filled with anger. Yet, he understands that in this world, the pain of a child can be extinguished like a worthless flower.