1217-09-14
Rauroy.
A small village to the east of Shar, where the sands stretch endlessly. Rauroy—a place to hide, to disappear, a quiet spot to do business.
Days had passed since the heist, and hiding the evidence was harder than ever. Normally, I'd bury it beneath the ever-shifting sands near Shar, but this time had been different—more dangerous than anything I'd faced before. I decided to bury it in Rauroy instead.
Ramses once told me that merchants and others looking to avoid attention often chose smaller villages. That's exactly what I needed.
Rauroy.
A small village, no more than a couple of hundred people. It was perfect for blending in. Outsiders—people from Rali, Tethambia, or the UIK—stood out here like sore thumbs, but in a place like this, I could vanish into the background.
Rauroy.
A village worn by the sands of time.
This was my last job, I told myself. After this, I'd go home, become a fisherman like my father. I wanted to be part of my sister's life again. This last outing had shown me how close I was to getting caught. A single mistake could have been the end of me.
The sun beat down relentlessly on the sands of Sha'tar, hot and unyielding. The sky above was alive with dragons, some carrying riders, others flying free. They dotted the heavens like stars, impossible to ignore, their shimmering scales casting fleeting shadows over the desert.
Move.
I had to keep moving. The endless sands played tricks on my eyes, shifting and shimmering, offering nothing but mirages. My exhaustion was bone-deep, a weariness I hadn't felt in years.
The small tavern in Rauroy was bustling. People from all over gathered here, their clothes a patchwork of vibrant colors to shield them from the sun. The server was no different, his face lined with fatigue as he wiped down glasses.
He grabbed a fresh glass and filled it with water.
"Thank you," I whispered.
A small smile crossed his lips.
In the corner of the tavern, a figure stood out. While most people from Sha'tar had light brown skin and multicolored eyes, this man was different. His pale skin and blue eyes marked him as a foreigner. He was draped in a cloak that concealed almost everything, but the glint of yellow gems in his gloves and the craftsmanship of his sandals suggested wealth.
I sat at his table. Neither of us spoke.
I leaned back in my chair. "Water's hard to find these days," I said quietly.
The merchant took a sip, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me. After a beat, he nodded. "It is," he agreed, his voice distant. "But I have plenty. More than most."
I raised an eyebrow, keeping it casual. "Good to hear," I said. "Fish need water."
He smiled. "Fish are hard to come by these days," he said. "Real scarce."
I nodded slowly, keeping my tone steady. "Yeah. Without water, there wouldn't be any fish at all."
The merchant studied me for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out. "Water's everything," he said finally. "Without it, there's nothing. But with enough water..." He left the rest unsaid.
I leaned in slightly, speaking softly. "With enough water, there's fish. And plenty of other things, too."
He watched me for a long time. "Plenty of things," he said, standing up and adjusting his cloak. "But sometimes, you need more than fish to get what you want."
I stood with him, and we both moved toward the door in silence, each of us placing 50 var on the table.
He pushed the door open, pausing before stepping out. "I'll see you around," he said.
I nodded, watching him go. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I'll be here."
We left the tavern, each of us tired from the day's work. I stepped outside of Rauroy, near a small gate made of sandstone. I had marked the wall earlier, and the merchant watched closely. He kept his eyes on me as I showed him the bags of ance I had collected. He looked into the bag and it was filled to the brim.
A sly smile crossed his face.
"How much do you want for it?" he asked.
"60,000," I replied.
"OK," he said, without hesitation.
We walked in silence down the narrow alley, the evening air cool against our skin. The merchant led the way. I followed him into the building.
He opened the door to his room and stepped inside. The dim light reveals a small, cluttered space. Papers were scattered across the desk. Clothes were strewn across the floor. He muttered under his breath, rummaging through a drawer as if looking for something. After a few moments, he pulled out 10 small leather pouches, shaking them.
He turned to me. "Here," he said, handing them to me.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you."
I took it carefully, feeling the weight of the coins inside. The air between us was thick with tension, the deal now done but still hanging in the air. We shook hands, the contact brief but firm. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Ammon," he replied, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain.
I nodded. "Ammon." The name lingered in the room as I turned and stepped back out into the night.
I stood there for a moment, the pouch heavy in my hand. It wasn't just the money—it felt like the start of something bigger. This could last. I knew that. It was rare to get an opportunity like this, and now I had it. The weight of it was more than just coins.
I glanced toward the sea, thinking of my father. Maybe now was the time to join him, to become a fisherman like he always wanted. A simple life, but one I could be proud of.
The moon hung low in the sky. I stood there, the quiet wrapping around me, until a bright flash lit up the sky. The light of Horus. It felt like a sign, like the future was waiting, closer than I thought.
I took a deep breath and stood straighter. Maybe this was the start of something that would last.
"I hope you're alright, Neith."