The day of our departure from Sanala dawned with a golden hue painting the desert sands. The city, still bustling with life even at the break of day, seemed almost reluctant to see us leave. Sora, to my relief, had fully recovered from her fever. She stood among the group, her usual confidence returning, though a faint hint of exhaustion lingered in her eyes. Silvana and Nathanos busied themselves ensuring our supplies were loaded properly onto the caravan, while Leon took charge of inspecting our recruits, ensuring everyone was prepared for the journey.

Abda, however, seemed distant. She was quieter than usual, her gaze often drifting to the horizon as though searching for something—or someone—out there in the endless expanse of sand. Her discomfort was palpable, a stark contrast to the optimism shared by the rest of the group. I decided not to press her then, knowing she’d speak when she was ready.

We left Sanala with our caravan in tow, moving in a disciplined line. The rhythmic creaking of cartwheels mingled with the occasional neighing of horses and the crunch of boots against the sand. The morning air was cool, a fleeting respite before the heat of the day would bear down on us.

The path ahead stretched vast and barren, the horizon shimmering under the relentless gaze of the sun. Sora rode beside me, her expression composed as she scanned the dunes for any sign of trouble. Despite her recovered health, I could tell she was still on edge. Her recent bout of illness had humbled her, reminding her—and all of us—of our vulnerabilities.

Leon rode at the front, leading the scouts, his sharp eyes darting across the landscape for any signs of danger. Nathanos marched alongside the caravan, his towering presence offering an unspoken assurance to the recruits. Silvana followed close by, her bow slung across her back, ever ready to respond should trouble find us.

It wasn’t long before the heat began to intensify. The sun climbed higher, turning the sand into a reflective sea of gold. By midday, the oppressive heat was unbearable. Thankfully, we came across an oasis—a small but welcome sanctuary amid the arid desert. The water sparkled invitingly, its surface framed by a cluster of palm trees that provided much-needed shade.

We stopped to rest and replenish ourselves. The recruits quickly gathered around the oasis, filling their waterskins and splashing water on their faces to stave off the heat. The camels and horses drank deeply, their heavy breaths punctuating the otherwise quiet scene. I found a shaded spot to sit, watching as the group took advantage of the brief respite.

It was then that Abda approached me, her expression hesitant. She looked out toward the horizon, her brow furrowed as if wrestling with something deep inside. Taking a seat beside me, she let out a heavy sigh.

“Augustus,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

I turned to face her, concern etched on my features. “What is it, Abda?”

Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together, her gaze fixed on the ground. “Going to Qasira… it’s going to bring back memories I’d rather forget.”

The vulnerability in her voice took me by surprise. Abda had always carried herself with a quiet strength, her knowledge of medicines and calm demeanor making her an anchor for the group. Seeing her like this was unsettling.

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she continued. “Before I joined Nova, I owned a small medicine shop in Qasira. It was my pride, my livelihood… until it was taken from me. There were merchants there, rivals who couldn’t stand the idea of someone like me succeeding. They burned my shop to the ground.”

Her words were laced with pain, and I could see tears welling in her eyes. “I barely escaped with my life. Everything I worked for, everything I built, was reduced to ashes. Going back there… I’m afraid I won’t be able to face those people. I might lose myself, Augustus.”

I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze. “Abda, you’re not alone anymore. We’re your family now, and we’ll stand by you no matter what. If going to Qasira brings up those memories, we’ll confront them together. You won’t have to face it alone.”

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Her lips quivered into a faint smile, though the fear in her eyes remained. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

The journey resumed after our brief rest, and by the time the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson, we reached the outskirts of Qasira. The city loomed ahead, its sandstone buildings bathed in the warm glow of twilight. It was a bustling trade hub, its streets alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and the chatter of passersby.

Despite the vibrant atmosphere, Abda’s unease was palpable. She stayed close to the caravan, her eyes darting nervously as though expecting to see her tormentors at any moment. The rest of the group remained alert, sensing the tension in the air.

We made our way to a designated area near the market square where caravans often set up camp. After ensuring the caravan was secure, I pulled Abda aside. “Show me where your shop used to be,” I said gently.

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. Together, we weaved through the crowded streets, the scent of spices and freshly baked bread mingling with the more pungent smells of livestock and sweat. Abda led me to a quiet corner of the city, where the remnants of a burned-down building stood as a stark reminder of her past.

“This was it,” she said, her voice barely audible. “This was my home.”

We set up camp in a small, shaded courtyard near the market district, a safe distance from prying eyes. While Ameer busied himself negotiating the goods he planned to take to Danustica, Abda and I began gathering information about her rivals.

His name was Farad he ran the largest medicine shop in Qasira. Rumors of his ruthless business practices were everywhere. People whispered that they had set fire to Abda’s shop to eliminate competition and that they were now exploiting the city’s reliance on their overpriced remedies.

The real breakthrough came when Abda, with her keen understanding of medicine, analyzed some of their most popular products. “This,” she said, holding up a vial of syrup, “is nothing but a mix of cheap weeds and chemicals. It’s barely effective, and the long-term side effects…” She trailed off, her expression dark. “They’re poisoning people for profit.”

We began spreading the word subtly at first. Silvana and Nathanos spoke to traders and townsfolk, planting seeds of doubt about the brothers’ practices. “If Abda’s shop hadn’t been burned down,” they’d say, “we’d still have access to affordable, safe medicine. But now…” They let their words trail off, letting the locals draw their conclusions.

At the same time, Leon and I dug deeper, seeking concrete proof of the brothers’ shady dealings. We bribed a few disgruntled workers from their shop, who confirmed that the ingredients were being used in their products. But even those workers had no idea that these ingredients were actually harmful. Armed with this evidence, we knew it was time to confront them—but not directly.

Instead, we approached a group of local merchants who had their grievances against Farad. “We have proof,” I told them, laying out the tainted ingredients and workers’ testimonies. “But we’re leaving soon. If you want justice, you’ll need to act quickly.”

The merchants didn’t need much convincing. Years of being undercut and bullied by Farad had left them eager for revenge. They agreed to confront Farad publicly, using the evidence we provided to turn the tide of public opinion against them.

The next morning, as the sun bathed Qasira in golden light, the marketplace erupted into chaos. A group of merchants, flanked by angry townsfolk, marched to the medicine shop. Cries of “Thieves!” and “Poisoners!” echoed through the streets as the crowd demanded answers.

Abda and I watched from a distance, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley. Her hands clenched at her sides as Farad appeared, his face pale and defensive.

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Farad shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of the accusations.

But the merchants were relentless. They laid out the tainted ingredients, the workers’ testimonies, and the inflated prices for all to see. The crowd’s anger swelled, turning into a mob.

Abda exhaled deeply, her tension giving way to a quiet sense of satisfaction. “They’re finally paying for what they did,” she murmured.

As the mob grew, we knew it was time to leave. Ameer’s caravan was loaded and ready, the goods secured for the journey ahead.

Before we departed, Abda turned to me. “Thank you,” she said simply. Her voice was steady, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

She had a small smile breaking through her solemn expression. “I think this is enough. They’ll think twice before trying to hurt anyone else.”

As our caravan rolled out of Qasira, the echoes of the confrontation still rang through the streets. Abda walked beside me, her head held high. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed at peace.

And as the city faded into the horizon, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride—not just for helping Abda, but for the quiet strength our group had shown. I remembered the purpose for which this group was formed by Mannes. Together, we were more than mercenaries. We were a force for justice, even in the smallest of ways.