1217-09-10
The sun blazes high in the sky, its heat relentless.
Royal guards patrol the depository, their armor gleaming in the harsh light. The bronze plating catches the sun, their presence commanding.
The streets are crowded today, with people heading toward the main castle to worship Horace. The air is filled with murmurs and hurried steps.
As I weave through the throng, someone bumps into me. I stumble slightly, my heart racing for a moment, but they barely notice. They're focused on the path ahead, caught in the tide of devotion.
Then, the moment comes. The guards are distracted. Whether it's due to the commotion of the worshippers or something else entirely, I can't tell. All I know is that the desert heat bears down on me like a second weight.
Every time I do this, the nerves claw at me. My heart pounds. I'm terrified. But I can't back out now. Not this time.
This will be the last.
This will be the effort that counts. After this, we'll leave. We'll escape to the United Islands of Khiz in the west or maybe Rali to the south. Even if Rali is at war, it has to be better than this endless, suffocating heat.
I've heard stories from sailors, from merchants—stories of the sea, of the United Islands of Khiz. A peaceful nation.
Maybe we can live better there. Maybe anything is better than here.
A place to settle down. A small, remote island. A chance to live in peace with my family.
I retreated into the shadows and waited.
Once the coast was clear, I moved quickly, staying low as I approached the Depository. The sandstone walls radiated the day's heat, but my focus was on that hole. I'd brought a thin leather rope with me, one I'd used in countless climbs before. Tossing it up, I snagged a ledge and began to pull myself up.
The climb wasn't easy. The sandstone was smooth in places, with only faint grooves to grip. By the time I reached the hole, my arms burned, but I pushed through. Up close, the opening was smaller than it had looked from the ground, but still manageable.
I moved the rocks covering the entrance and let my rope down.
The depository is a sight to behold, like a museum of treasures. Gems and gold shimmer under the sunlight filtering through, while flowers and wheat are piled high in massive containers.
In a small section set apart from the rest lies the depository for Ance. Once a creamy, pale-colored gem, Ance now looks entirely different. The containers brim with stones of a silvery blue, shimmering like ice.
The change doesn't stop me. I move quickly, filling my bag with as much Ance as I can, leaving the flap slightly open. In my other bag are small, fake cream-colored gems—perfect replicas of the Ance I'm stealing. The replacements should buy me enough time to escape.
But as I work, a thought lingers.
Why is it a different color?
Whoosh!
An arrow whizzes past me, close enough to stir the air around my face. My heart freezes for a split second.
A royal knight.
No.
This man is different. Though surrounded by a group of royal knights, their bronze armor unmistakable, he stands apart. His light brown skin, and golden eyes shine in the sun.
He's blessed by Horace.
I don't hesitate. My hand moves instinctively, drawing a dagger from its sheath.
The first knight moves like a flash of light, his sword aimed for my chest. I twist just in time, his blade slicing air as I dodge to the side. The clang of metal echoes as I drive my dagger upward, catching him under the arm. He crumples, the light in his armor dimming as he falls.
The others don't hesitate. They close in, faster than I can track, their movements like streaks of sunlight reflecting off polished metal. My heart pounds as I clutch the bag of fake gems tightly, waiting for the right moment.
Another knight lunges at me from the left, his speed blinding. I duck low, throwing the bag of fakes at him and the knight beside him. The gems scatter mid-air, catching the sunlight like shards of glass. For a split second, they're disoriented.
I don't waste it.
Driving forward, I slash at the second knight's neck. My blade bites through, and he collapses with a metallic groan. A third knight is already on me, swinging his sword in a wide arc. I leap back, the edge of his blade grazing my shirt, but I keep moving, keep fighting.
The golden-eyed man doesn't join the fight yet. He watches, calm and unshaken, his presence commanding. His knights are his weapons, but I can't afford to focus on him now.
The fourth knight closes in, his strike precise and deadly. I twist, grab the hilt of his sword, and shove it to the side, forcing him off balance. A kick to his chest sends him staggering backward.
Then I see it—the door.
My opening.
I grab the bag of fake gems again and hurl it at the remaining knights. The distraction buys me just enough time to charge toward the door. My shoulder slams into it, and the wood creaks under the force.
I push through, running as fast as my legs will carry me. Behind me, I hear the golden-eyed man call out, his voice steady, unhurried.
Run!
The bright sun blazed high above Sha'tar, its unyielding heat turning the bustling marketplace into an oven. My skin, already scorched from days in the desert, burned anew, but I couldn't stop. The guards were closing in.
The sandstone buildings of the city loomed around me, their smooth, golden walls reflecting the sunlight with a harsh brilliance. This city was an oasis in a wasteland, its marketplaces teeming with life under stone arches and colorful cloth awnings. I darted between stalls piled high with spices, gems, and food, my breath ragged as I clutched the bag tight to my chest. Inside, the Ance rattled like a curse.
"Watch it!" a woman covered in a robe shouted.
"Sorry!" I called back, though I didn't stop.
Behind me, the royal guards' voices rose above the market's clamor. I risked a glance over my shoulder—they were close, too close.
"Get him!" one royal guard shouted.
I scan the area, looking for anything, anywhere to hide. And then I spot it—a large building, just the kind of place I could disappear into. Without hesitation, I grip my grappling hook, spinning it as I run toward my only chance.
With a desperate leap, I scaled the wall. My bag swung precariously, the Ance inside feeling heavier with every pull. As I reached the top, the city's chaos below seemed to fade, replaced by the rush of wind and the distant cries of traders.
Panting, all I could hear was my own breathing.
Run. I continued to run.