Cent. Calendar 11/09/1639, the Whispering Flatlands, Quila, 12:00

The vast, arid desert that spanned the territory of the kingdom of Quila stretched to the horizon in all directions–a sea of whites, beiges, and grays enveloping the earth underneath a carpet of deep blue sky. The blistering, unforgiving sun was at its zenith; while it was at its harshest, it only meant that it was now on its way back to the horizon.

In the midst of this northern region in Quila–known as the Whispering Flatlands due to its dry, howling winds–five bronco birds were making the dangerous trek across the scorching hot, hardened clay plains. It is on the backs of these indomitable animals that the veritable trade routes between the bickering dukedoms of the former hegemonic kingdom of Louria to the west and the mineral-rich Quilan fiefdoms to the east are made possible; it is then a no-brainer that it is on the sturdy, capable backs of these stoic birds that the scholarly expedition of the Japanese government is making their desert crossing.

“Stay strong, everyone: we’re on the last legs of the journey to the Watak oasis.”

Commanding the rearmost bronco was Olek, the beastman warlord of this domain–perhaps on his nth crossing of the Flatlands. Whether or not he was used to the dry conditions or he had prepared sufficient supplies for the journey, it was clear from his calm composure that this crossing was but an ordinary thing for him to do. The same goes for his fellow beastman warriors who commandeered the four other broncos. On the other hand, however, the blazing heat and the extremely dry conditions were proving near insurmountable for their foreign entourage.

“Fuck... gotta ration my water... till then...”

Feeling the few droplets of moisture evaporating from her throat, Kita was trying hard not to take another sip from her canteen–her last vessel of water after emptying two plastic bottles earlier. She tried closing her mouth and hiding her face deeper into her colored headscarf, but her rapidly flaking lips and water-starved tongue meant that she just couldn’t help wanting to take another sip. Behind them, Cecilia, who was riding on the bronco immediately to their rear, didn’t seem to be taking it well either, hunching over towards her ride’s long neck and clutching a water bottle. Although judging from the burly hiking bag she brought along, she might have actually packed a lot more water than her. Looking the other way towards the two broncos in front of them, the escort provided by the government looked to be in the same predicament. Despite being trained personnel of the Self Defense Force, they’re rather fickle-looking and easy to give in to the elements. She could even hear one of them groaning out loud, “I shouldn’t have taken this mission!”

“Girl... I sure hope Olek is right... I need to refill my water at that oasis soon...”

Still trying to be the tension reliever of the group, Kita tried chatting up her best friend, Izumi, who was riding on the same bronco as her.

“Mhm...”

Izumi, however, didn’t appear to be in the mood for talking. While Kita wanted to respect her wishes and space, the fact that she was basically silent for the last three or two hours of the trip weighed heavily on her mind. The last meaningful thing she heard from her was a complaint in the form of a long, deep groan; since then, she’s been silent, keeping mostly to herself underneath her carpet-like head scarf.

“Ya alright, Hikari?”

Finally mustering up the energy to show concern, Kita tried asking Izumi. Still, no answer nor bodily reaction. Begrudgingly setting aside her concerns, at least for now, Kita opted to leave her be.

“Just tell me if ya have anything bothering ya, ‘kay?”

With that, Kita turned around to continue being preoccupied with trying to stave off dehydration.

“...”

Meanwhile, beneath the shade of her orange-colored headscarf, Izumi was crouching over, the pain she wanted to vocalize being unable to leave her dried up, already bleeding lips.

Yeah... I shouldn’t have... done that last night...

With her throat parched–devoid of much-needed hydration–for a while now, she could only hope to voice out what she wished to say within her brain space. Unlike Kita, she was actually in a far worse predicament: she’d already exhausted all of her water bottles. On top of that was what happened last night.

Going back in time more than 12 hours ago, she, Cecilia, and Kita were all staying back at the air-conditioned lodgings set up at the Japanese embassy in the capital Barrat. While the accommodations there were no five-star hotel–if not totally different from a hotel experience altogether, the lodgings were built for embassy staff and high-level diplomats to stay in, so the rooms were still comparatively well off than those of the local, typical Quilan inn. To top it all off, they were able to use the plentiful electricity generated by the embassy’s generators. It was that last bit that Izumi tried to make good use of; plugging in her laptop onto the compatible socket in her cold, well-ventilated room, she got off to work typing out her thoughts, theories about their findings so far, and reading up on downloaded pdf files of books and related, published material regarding the architecture and history of the early Showa period.

Yeah... I regret doing that now...

As someone who’d rather be plugged in and working away through typing out document after document, it was painful for her to be kept away from her work desk when the transfer happened months ago. With all the universities and academic institutions closed down, all she could do was spend much-needed time with her daughter, Sayaka–the byproduct of an unhappy marriage with a second-rate doctor who, like her, also buried himself in his work. Now that she accepted a government-sponsored deployment to the Rodenius continent on a search for out-of-place Japanese artifacts, she was once more separated from her daughter, but she still couldn’t do her desk work due to all the moving around. Finally, now that she was given a chance to be busy with laptop-based work, she took that chance in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, the cost of this decision came in the form of a two-hour sleep and dehydration due to excessive consumption of coffee (around four mugs alone) and the aforementioned lack of sleep. Her being a horrible planner and an impulsive decision maker is now probably going to cost her her sanity–if not her life–in this blistering, unforgiving wasteland.

Gods... Is this really where I’m going to die?

Perhaps not, but that was how Izumi felt like it was going to be.

“Please don’t die, mom!”

What?

She heard the soft voice of a child echo throughout the vicinity. The sound alone was enough to pull on her heartstrings, but her familiarity with this voice tugged on her hard–enough to elicit a bodily reaction from her.

Sayaka? Why are you here???

Still unable to physically vocalize her thoughts, she cried out loud in her head.

“Please come home...”

She could vaguely hear those words rolling off the tongue of her daughter, who sounded like she was beckoning her to come back home... back to their family home in Hyogo.

Wait!

The voice sounded like it was getting fainter and fainter. For Izumi, robbed of most of her capacity to rationalize due to her remorseful emotions and dehydrated state, it sounded as if her daughter Sayaka was calling out to her. Never before has she fulfilled her daughter’s letters, wishing and asking for her to come home, back when she was working at the university. Her obsession with trying to distract herself with work and hesitance to come to terms with responsibilities had separated her from her daughter for most of the time before the transfer. How could she be so selfish? Thoughts like this ran through her head, fueling the fiery feelings of regret raging in her heart. Thinking that it was beyond doubt that she could actually perish in this godforsaken desert, she wanted to at least make up for lost time with her family–and so she went for it.

“Huh? Hikari?!”

Kita called out to her best friend, who had just jumped off from the bronco and fallen onto the hardened clay soil below. Izumi struggled to stand up, yet she nevertheless forced herself to get on her feet. In spite of her tired, sleepy, dehydrated state and her dry, bleeding lips, she mustered the energy to scream as if driven by whatever semblance of motherly instinct she had in her.

“SAYAKA!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Her raspy, obviously pained voice rang out across the scorching wastes of the Whispering Flatlands. At this point, Cecilia, Olek, and the others had caught on to what was happening.

“What’s going on with her?”

One of their armed SDF escorts promptly ran up to Kita, who had also now disembarked from the bronco.

“She just jumped off and started screaming out ‘Sayaka!!!’”

As they were talking, Izumi continued to limp off towards the greater wastes and got further and further from the group, all the while screaming out loud her daughter’s name.

“Sayaka!!! Don’t worry... I’m coming home!!! Please... where are you?!”

“Wait, Hikari!”

Without waiting for Olek and the others, Kita ran off to get her best friend back. Through the blistering heat and her own dehydrated self, her adrenaline powered her legs and carried her to where Izumi had limped to. She then grabbed her by the arm.

“What are you doing, Hikari? Sayaka-chan isn’t here!”

“But I hafta... I hafta get back to her...”

All weak and starved of water, Izumi’s outburst of energy was starting to ebb away. Before long, she had collapsed once more on the hot, sun-kissed ground. Seeing the commotion unfold, Olek, Cecilia, and the armed escorts sprinted after the two. As soon as they arrived, Olek promptly went towards Izumi and checked her haphazardly pale face.

“What did you say she was screaming again?”

The beastman directed his question to Kita, who was kneeling on the ground right beside the collapsed Izumi.

“The name of her daughter... but we didn’t bring her along! She was talking as if she was trying to find her here!”

Hearing this, Olek calmly closed his eyes as if already having figured out why things were happening as they were. Then, he shared his thoughts with the others.

“I am no healer, but I at least can say with certainty that she’s started to hear the whispers of the Flatlands: we need to get her to a cool place and give her water, at least before her condition gets worse.”

With his fellow beastmen warriors preoccupied in tending to the broncos, Olek was left with no choice but to ask the Japanese armed escorts and Cecilia for help.

“I may not be in the position to order you around, but I need you three to carry this woman back to the broncos. I may have something there that could be of use.”

The escorts and Cecilia, without delay or hesitation, carried out what Olek told them to do. Gently lifting Izumi from the ground, the three then proceeded to carefully carry her all the way back to the bronco birds, with Kita being helped by Olek. Placing the groaning, barely conscious Izumi flatly on the back of one of the bronco birds, they waited for Olek to return. After a minute or so, the beastman warlord came back to them with a round, smooth stone in his hands–a trinket that Cecilia recognized.

“Is that one of those mana-filled stones?”

“Correct. I didn’t want to have to use this since these are expensive, and they’re hard to come by naturally in Quila, but if we want to help out your collapsed friend, then it cannot be helped.”

Olek placed the smooth, not-so-heavy stone next to Izumi’s hot yet sweatless head. Then, he hovered his big, furry hands over it before proceeding to start speaking in an unintelligible, alien-sounding language. Within seconds of him finishing this incantation, drops of water started appearing all over the smooth, unperturbed surface of the stone.

“Woah...”

The two armed escorts, having never seen something like this before, aired their impressions out loud.

However, the droplets were a mere side effect: what Olek cast was a simple heat transfer spell. Beastmen like Olek don’t possess mana of their own inside their bodies (unlike more mana-sensitive species like elves), so he had to rely on the mana inside the stone to be able to cast the spell. Slowly, the air around the stone started to cool as the heat was transferred magically to the innards of the stone, replacing the mana that was being cast. It was a simple and ingenious spell to produce chilling air whenever needed, but imperfections in the language used in the chant itself and the manner of incantation meant that it was not at its full potential, causing there to be less cooling produced per mana cast and so on. Still, the intended outcome of there being an impromptu source of cold air to help cool Izumi was more or less achieved.

“Here, make sure she gets all that she needs.”

Olek handed over a cylindrical, animal-skin-wrapped container filled to the brim with water to Kita.

“Huh? Isn’t this yours? Won’t you be needing it?”

“Don’t worry; I can handle this last leg of the journey to the oasis. Once we’re there, we can have all the water we want.”

Thanking their benevolent beastman guide for the water, Kita then hopped onto the bronco and sat next to the tired Izumi. To shade her from the skin-biting sunlight shining directly on them, she spread out a carpet-like fabric all over her best friend, inserting the chilly mana stone inside so as to keep the cool air in. She then gave her a helping of water from the container Olek gave, which Izumi readily drank.

“We’ll be outta here soon.”

Just as Kita gave her assuring words, the caravan of broncos resumed their trek.

Watak oasis, 12:45

After 40 or so minutes of trekking across the vast, great Quilan desert, they’ve come across a respite of greens and blues that was rapidly closing in. The Broncos maintained their walking speed, but the sight of crystal clear waters glistening in the sun also got them to pick up the pace. The Japanese mission was skeptical of what they saw, quick to dismiss it as another mirage of the Whispering Flatlands–similar to what they’ve seen happen to Izumi a while ago, but Olek and his troop assured them that the anomalous, forest-like overgrowth was very much real.

Within minutes of catching sight of the oasis, they’ve finally managed to step foot on its muddy, grassy vicinity. Disembarking from the broncos, Kita, Cecilia, and the two SDF escorts made their way towards the clean waters of the oasis, directly drinking off of it through their hands before proceeding to refill their empty and half-empty containers. The relative coolness of the water was more than refreshing, drenching their moisture-starved mouth, lips, and throats. Nevertheless, they made sure not to overdo it so as to maintain their composure and–above all–dignified image. While Kita ran back to take care of the still barely conscious Izumi, Cecilia and the two SDF escorts went to a waiting Olek.

“Our apologies, Olek. We’ve greatly underestimated the water we’d need for this journey.”

On behalf of everyone, Cecilia went ahead and apologized for their ‘tourist-y’ behavior.

“Don’t worry: you’re far from the first foreigner to come into contact with the tribulations of the Flatlands. We will be leaving again tomorrow, but for now, the waters of Watak are free for you to use as you wish.”

Olek had shown them enough of his kindness and hospitality, a far cry from the raging wolf they’ve come across at the public hall in Barrat yesterday. Once everyone–including Olek’s own men–has taken their time drinking the waters of the oasis, they’ve once more mounted their broncos to traverse the oasis’s circumference towards a large group of white tents set up on the other side. As soon as they arrived there, they were greeted by a community of beastmen, ranging from the elderly with their graying furs to children that were smaller than even the ethnic Japanese members of the mission to fully-fledged adults with headscarves and arms. Some of them wore the same style of leather armor as Olek’s men and even greeted the warlord by pounding their chest plates with their closed fists and lowering their heads. Meanwhile, the Japanese were beset with curious yet neutral stares from the beastmen community, with hushed remarks being made in a language they couldn’t quite understand. Olek beckoned on them to follow him towards the largest of the tents.

Without issue, they entered the tent. Inside, they were treated to a rather simplistic layout: there was little in the way of furniture–there were only low tables for conversation and dining–while the ground was covered in carpets of all sorts of dark colors with shapes and flowing designs embroidered into the fabric. There were chests of various sizes and lengths–possibly used for storage–neatly placed on the ground along the tent’s lining. Caged candles hanging from chains clasped onto the sturdy frame that gives the tent’s shape provide ample lighting. It was very much minimalistic, but it did exude a feeling of space and cleanliness. An elderly beastmen of advanced age, judging from their white, blind eyes and excessive fallout of fur, clad in red robes was sitting on the far side of the low table at the center of the tent. Flanking both of his sides were also elderly beastmen, although they appeared to be less advanced in age.

“My humblest greetings. Allow me to express my gratitude for letting us pass through and stay in your oasis once again.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Olek bowed towards the elders while speaking in his native tongue. Cecilia and the two SDF escorts, seeing this gesture, subconsciously followed suit themselves and bowed in the same manner.

“You need not be formal with us, dearest Olek. Your kind heart and proud tendencies have allowed us to maintain our fragile existence here despite the bickerings of the other lords at the royal court in Barrat.”

The elder at the center replied, accompanied by a weak smile on their face.

“I’d like to correct that my efforts still seem to be in vain, but I digress. I’ve come with a group of foreign scholars who wish to make the trip to the sacred land of Krko; they wish to learn more about its legends.”

“Krko... I’m a bit torn on this endeavor, dearest Olek. That wretched place has dangers I fear that not even your hardy spirit could conquer. Are you not leading these foreigners to their doom?”

Despite not being able to understand their conversation, Cecilia could feel some hesitance and doubt from Olek, who stayed silent for a good moment or so after the elderly seemed to have raised a question.

“W-We shall see...”

He then motioned his hands towards the Japanese as if to introduce them to the elders.

“These foreign scholars have come from a faraway land called Japan. They’ve so far been kind and polite to us and our peoples.”

Olek then turned to face Cecilia and started speaking to her in Asheran common.

“These are the elders of this tribe, which have been maintaining the Watak oasis for generations. The royal court in Barrat considers them to be nominally under my rule, but our customs have me treat them like they were of my own community. I personally refer to them as if they were my blood grandparents.”

Mouthing an “ah, I see,” Cecilia proceeded to greet the elders in Asheran common, as it was already established that they couldn’t understand one another. She bowed again, followed by the SDF escorts.

“Greetings. My name is Cecilia, and although I’m not technically a Japanese person, I’m currently on this scholarly mission on behalf of the Japanese government. These two are Sato and Takada; they’re to protect us while we’re on this mission.”

The two escorts, Sato and Takada, each gave their brief greetings, albeit in Japanese since they don’t know how to speak Asheran common.

“My... how polite, indeed. We have nothing much to offer, but you may get from the edible fruits and berries in the grove, in addition to the oasis’s plentiful water, so long as it suits your needs in crossing these Whispering Flatlands.”

The elder’s reply sounded welcoming, which Olek confirmed to the Japanese.

“They’re pleased with your polite words. They’ve allowed you to get as many fruits and berries from the grove as you need for the journey ahead, as well as water from the oasis itself.”

Cecilia, touched by the tribal elders’ kind gesture, once more bowed in thanks.

“Thank you so much! We couldn’t possibly repay your kind gesture!”

With their meeting with the elders having gone well, the Japanese and Olek vacated the tent.

18:45

Since they were going to stay at the oasis for a day to rest and refill their stocks of food and water, the tribe, at the request of Olek, provided the Japanese with their own spacious tent to stay in. Situated directly next to the oasis is their tent, which was a lot bigger than the usual guest accommodations the tribe provides for passing trade caravans. After spending the day gathering fresh fruits and berries from the nearby grove with Olek’s men, Cecilia and the two escorts, Sato and Takada, returned to their tent with their haul, which should be enough–in theory–to last them the journey towards the next oasis. Meanwhile, Kita, who had been nursing Izumi at their new tent, had taken to reading a piece of literature she had brought with her on their deployment. With her best friend having regained some semblance of consciousness, most of the caretaking work was already behind her.

At this point, the sun had already set, the searing heat from its untamed rays now replaced by the cold darkness of nightfall. In stark contrast to the conditions during the daytime, the Whispering Flatlands at night is a different beast–albeit still deadly. There are little to no sources of natural light beside the stars above and–if lucky–either or both of the two shining moons. There were predators everywhere, ranging from the smallest insect to the largest, solitary sandworm waiting to pounce on any trade caravan foolish enough to try and make the crossing at night. Unlike the daytime, chilly, almost winter-like winds blew across the wastes at night; just like their counterparts in the daytime, however, they were equally as dry and water-starved. The chances of one perishing at night in the Flatlands were just about as high as those at daytime.

Fortunately for the Japanese, they were safely settled in at the Watak oasis, a sliver of civilization in the midst of this hostile wasteland. The blanket of darkness is rolled back by the hundreds of torches placed all over the tribal settlement while beastmen guards on night duty make sure that any prospecting predators are deterred. With the grove now off limits, Cecilia, Sato, and Takada were back with Kita and Izumi–who’s now back on her feet–in the tent. They then pulled out the dinner they packed beforehand–easy-to-make curry–and prepared it. Before long, they were finally chowing down on newly cooked rice with spicy curry on the side. With a single overhanging candle providing light, it was a bit dark for eating conditions but still workable.

“Itadakimasu.”

A clap and a quick offer of thanks for today’s dinner, as there was nothing remarkable that they could say about their dinner, especially since there wasn’t enough for seconds. Regardless, it satisfied their empty stomachs, which had been grunting in pain for hours. With Sato taking their used plate and silverware to wash at the oasis outside (Takada had his cigarette break outside too), the trio were once more left in a space together–just the three of them. The topic immediately went to the most recent incident: Izumi’s outburst back in the desert.

“D’you care to share what happened out there? I don’t think Cecilia minds.”

Kita started the conversation and set the boundaries with Cecilia, who didn’t seem to mind and just listened intently. Izumi, binding her legs together with her arms in a sort of fetal position, did not hesitate from being straightforward.

“I started hearing Sayaka’s voice out of nowhere; I made the shit decision of pulling an all-nighter and drinking coffee all day yesterday, so I was out of it... Yeah, I’m sorry for pulling that shit while you guys were there.”

In spite of Izumi’s seemingly frank apology and show of remorse, Kita wasn’t at all convinced.

“I think there’s more to it than that, Hikari. You were screaming ‘I’ll come home!’ repeatedly... something bothering you about leaving Sayaka behind?”

A silence followed, but it was cut short by Izumi’s groaning. Her best friend could not be any closer to the crux of the problem. She harbored some hostile sentiment towards her, being the one who invited her to accept the government deployment in the first place, but in the end, it was ultimately her decision to go: she decided to run from her family and bury herself in work again.

“Spending time with Sayaka since the transfer–since the universities closed–was... difficult. That alone is an understatement, mind you. Your call presented me with an opportunity to get away from all of it, obviously at Sayaka’s expense. I’m just... ugh. How pathetic of a human being–of a mother–I am...”

Hearing this, Kita’s initial doubts about pulling her best friend into this adventure was reinforced, causing feelings of regret to sprout within the depths of her heart. Still, ever the one who tries to look at the bright side, she wanted her next words to be one of support.

“I’m sorry for being the one to drag you here, but why don’t we try moving forward and leave that behind? Let’s go and bury ourselves with work out here in Rodenius for the duration of the deployment. But once we’re done, we have to go and face the music.”

Crawling over to her best friend, Kita gave her the tightest embrace her comparatively smaller hands could give.

“You know me... If it ain’t yet clear with my ass attempts at comic relief: I’m not exactly good with words, even with comforting and supporting ones. The decision of what you’ll do with Sayaka once you get home is yours alone to make, but I promise that I’ll be there to back ya up... this time, for sure...”

Hearing this from a close friend, all of whom had been absent and preoccupied even before the transfer, Izumi couldn’t stop all the tears that had built up in her eyes, even if there were so few of them. Her arms subconsciously maneuvered to wrap themselves along Kita’s body, bringing the two physically closer.

Cecilia, who had been nodding and maintaining a healthy amount of space from the two to allow them to have her moment, spoke up.

“I’m sorry, but I hope I’m not spoiling your time together.”

Perhaps satisfied with their quick, somber moment, Kita and Izumi promptly returned to where they had sat beforehand–not just because of Cecilia’s interruption but also because they felt a different presence within the vicinity.

“My apologies. Perhaps this is a bad time...”

Standing just outside the blinds to the entrance of the tent was the tall figure of Olek, who appeared to have something he wanted to discuss with the three.

“Your escort outside told me you are available to talk to, but it appears–”

“No, no, no! We’re fine and ready to talk!”

The trio then managed to convince the warlord to stay. Entering the tent, which was still spacious enough to comfortably accommodate Olek’s bigger build, he then sat on the carpet in a space vacated by Cecilia. As he was wearing a neutral expression on his face, the trio had difficulty figuring out what he wanted to talk about. Then, he spoke.

“I hope you’ve readied enough supplies and provisions for the journey tomorrow; the distance is almost the same as the route between here and Smanske, so it will take around four to five hours again. As much as I’m happy to provide aid if there are any difficulties, it would be much better if our journey would proceed without incident.”

He then looked towards Izumi, who appeared like sinking into the ground from the guilt she felt over what happened earlier. Unlike the substance of his frank, direct words, Olek’s expression was more out of concern for that incident than trying to rebuke her for it.

“Are you feeling better now? Can you make the journey tomorrow?”

“Yes–yes! Thank you so much for your assistance!”

Whether out of guilt, remorse, gratitude, or all of it combined, Izumi went ahead and prostrated herself in a dogeza. Olek, not fully understanding what she was trying to convey with her prostration, neutrally gave her words of assurance.

“It is of no matter to fret over; you were in a bad situation, and I decided to help you. The outcome and consequences are ours to bear, and it is best that we learn from it.”

With their emotions over the matter more or less resolved, Izumi returned to her usual sitting position while Olek relaxed his shoulders. However, there were no signs that he was going to get up and leave–apparently, he had more in mind to talk about.

“The elders reminded me of the circumstances surrounding our destination, Krko, so I decided to let you know more about it. I will admit that I’m not the best at explaining matters as information-heavy as you may like, so if it’s of no problem to you, you may ask me any questions you have regarding the site, and I will do my best to answer them satisfactorily.”

Presented with this unprecedented opportunity to know more about Site X from a local native, Cecilia, Kita, and Izumi thought deeply about the questions they wanted answers from. The first to come up with a question was Kita.

“I guess I’ll start with the most concerning problem you brought up: what exactly are the circumstances of Krko that the elders reminded you of? It sounded as if there’s something dangerous or unresolved regarding the place.”

Kita’s question was straight to the point–one which Olek had braced for. He was aware that he had been half-hearted in allowing the Japanese mission to visit Krko: he only pretended to be convinced by Cecilia’s speech about conservation. There were things about the place–stories passed down from generations–that inherently made everyone stay away from Krko, but the value of the place in both their myths and legends, in addition to the religions from other places like Qua-Toyne, meant that it was inevitable there would be people interested in visiting it. As the warlord of the region in which Krko is in, it is his duty to balance his priorities of keeping foreign travelers in it safe from harm and his obligation to uphold traditions–including those that surround the sacred land of Krko. Aside from all that, he had his own beliefs and feelings on the matter. Ultimately, though, he ended up giving in to his beliefs, and so he elected to share with the Japanese mission what he could share.

“The truth is... Krko, according to our tradition, is a cursed land.”

Feeling that a long story was coming up, Cecilia and Izumi booted up their laptops to start taking down notes.

“Depending on who you ask, it is either cursed or sacred; sacred because that is where the emissaries of the sun god had made and left their mark on this world but cursed because it is where they also left this world.”

Before Kita could ask for clarification on this, Olek continued to explain.

“Long ago, when the demons plagued the elven lands to the north, the sun god, benevolent to the elves yet an evil god in our pantheon–the one who doomed our lands to eternal drought–sent down her emissaries to drive away the demonic plague. The Qua-Toynians today embellish their feats by saying they have saved them from doom, but the tribes of the desert remember them differently.”

“Unlike them, we had no demons that destroyed villages and massacred peoples–yet the emissaries still came, but they came to rob the earth of its precious blood: the black water that you Japanese also crave. In their endeavor to do so, they claimed the fertile lands to the north and gave rise to a city which they called Krko.”

“However, they were not destined to last: the fertility that the elven god Astarte had bestowed upon Krko was taken away, and the desert started to crawl on the city. Famine, pestilence, war... they all befell even the so-called holy emissaries in their cities. In the end, our ancestors watched them abandon the city, gifting it forever to the desert which still holds it today.”

Olek’s eyes darkened as if remembering the nightmares the former warlords had told them about the place.

“If the sun god, the one who doomed Quila into eternal drought, can turn on her own emissaries by condemning Krko to the same fate, then it only reinforces our perspective that the sun god has an accursed hand, overwriting even the fertility of Astarte’s hand.”

Hearing this story, the trio learned about the difference between the mythologies of both Qua-Toyne and Quila. Whereas the Qua-Toynian elves believed in the divinity of the emissaries and viewed them as their saviors from the “demonic evil,” the tribes of Quila believed them to be foreigners that appeared only to take from their already deserted lands. While the topic of the existence of ‘the gods’ was still a matter of scholarly debate, now especially in the face of the transfer phenomenon that brought Japan to this world, the story of Krko being “doomed into a deserted fate” reminded the trio of cases of rapid climate change and desertification back on Earth. Perhaps the emissaries had overextended their stay and taken too much, so much so that the desert literally crawled up on them? It’s all conjecture for now, but they hope to study and shed light on these subjects soon. As of the moment, however, their government-sponsored mission is to explore Krko and–probably–find out more about the emissaries themselves and what happened to them.

As the three pondered on possible theories regarding the fate of Krko, Olek continued with his tale.

“As the stories of my tribe go, the emissaries abandoned their city, after which my ancestors stayed away from it ever since: the curse of Krko, it was known henceforth. However, foreign travelers–self-proclaimed pilgrims–started braving the desert to visit Krko to ‘pray’ to the sun god, thanking her for sending down her emissaries. At first, our tribe ignored them, but a great calamity soon befell these pilgrims: whenever they entered Krko, they were never seen or heard from again. Scared and angry pilgrims, thinking that we had robbed and killed their fellow pilgrims, started attacking our tribe. They never believed our explanations that Krko was cursed, instead insisting on what they believed had happened.”

“To settle this problem, the warlords before me created a story that the pilgrims will believe: the earlier pilgrims had desecrated the sacred land around Krko, hence why we ‘killed’ them. At first, they resisted this story, but time made sure that those who doubted had passed on, leaving those who believed it. Ever since then, the warlords of the Whispering Flatlands controlled the number and kind of foreigners who wanted to go to Krko, all the while keeping up the story that the land was sacred and we were only trying to protect it. Nevertheless, the true legend that Krko was cursed continued to be told to the younglings of the tribe, eventually convincing me who is now the current warlord.”

It looked as if Olek was done telling the tale when he lowered his face, but he had more to say: his tone reflected the doubt in their established tradition that Krko was cursed.

“However, there was a specific moment in time when everything... turned out to be wrong: the great powers of the west–the Holy Mirishial Empire and Mu–went and visited Krko for themselves.”

The trio immediately remembered the black and white photographs given to them by the government. Cecilia, who carried them around in her pack, hurriedly rummaged through her belongings to get them. With the photos in hand, she then showed them to Olek.

“You mean this specific expedition?”

“Yes... That one. At the time, both the Muish and Imperials were at each other’s throats, so when one of them decided to send a scholarly expedition here, the other followed not far behind. Ultimately, they brought with them scholarly tools–not weapons–so no fighting emerged between them, but I digress.”

“My father, the warlord before me, couldn’t realistically stop them from visiting Krko: the royal court in Barrat threatened to muster an army against our tribe should he embarrass the kingdom by denying the great powers access to the site. Against our established tradition, my father allowed them to step foot inside Krko itself... and contrary to what we thought was going to happen, nothing happened to them: they went in, studied the place for days and camped within the abandoned city, and went home without anything happening to them.”

Olek scratched his head, not knowing what to do given his responsibility to his tribe and the visiting Japanese mission.

“The elders at the time dismissed the anomaly, insisting that there was still a curse hanging over Krko. My father was conflicted; he passed on still not knowing why the Imperial-Muish expedition didn’t get afflicted by the curse. I... do not know what to make of it.”

The three looked at one another with troubled expressions. If there really was a danger awaiting them at Krko, then it presented a hurdle to their excursion as a whole. Would it be wise then to turn back and inform the Japanese government of this predicament? But then reasoning as absurd as a ‘curse’ may not be taken seriously, given how much money and resources the government was pouring into the deployment of scholars into Qua-Toyne and Quila. Then there were their own beliefs: none of them believed in curses. They’ve all known colleagues from all archaeology departments across the world (back on Earth) that have done on-site work on supposedly cursed sites–yet they all went on with their lives without incident. But then, Asherah is a different beast: the magic exists and they’ve seen it firsthand. Perhaps curses do exist here...

In the end, the three came to a silent agreement: they were going to go through to Krko, regardless of whether or not the curse was real. After minutes of silence, they turned their faces back to a troubled Olek.

“What are your beliefs on the matter?”

With a candid, straight-forward question hurled at him, Olek rapidly got his feelings in order so that he could reply with an equally-to-the-point reply.

“With all due respect to my tribe and elders, I believe that the curse is but an invention: something that my ancestors had to come up with to explain the unfortunate coincidences that befell all those people a long time ago. In my time on this world, ever since I heard about the expedition that defied the curse, I was convinced that Krko was just a collection of ruins in the desert–nothing more, nothing less. The entire time our tribe has been afraid to step foot in that old city occupied by nothing but ghosts... I’ve made it a secret goal to one day claim it as our own after all these millennia...”

As if settling ages-old, unresolved feelings in this talk with foreign strangers, Olek, embarrassed, bowed his head in apology.

“I understand that I should be the one providing you with answers, yet here I am, answering my own questions...”

This time, Izumi received his apology on behalf of everyone in the tent so as to respect the wishes of the beastman.

“We accept your humble apology. Your story has given us a lot of insight into many things about this world, your people, our people, and our mission, so in all honesty, it was more help than an impediment.”

Olek raised his head and acknowledged Izumi’s statement with open arms. The trio, seeing that he still showed no signs of leaving, decided to press on with their questions.

“So... Based on the legends of your tribe, can you describe more of what the emissaries were like? For example, their appearance, their clothes, their artifacts, anything special about what they brought?”

“Our storytellers may give you a better answer, but I’ll nevertheless try my best. Based on what the legends say, they were all probably humans...”

Cent. Calendar 13/09/1639, the Whispering Flatlands, Quila, 15:00

It’s been two days since they’ve set out across the vast desert of the Flatlands. It had been a long, perilous journey, but unlike their first day, the remaining two days had been without incident–just as Olek had wished. The Japanese scholarly mission into the depths of Quila to explore the known emissaries site, Krko, had finally reached its last legs. Kita, Izumi, and Cecilia, their digital documents filled to the brim with pictures of artifacts, theories about the emissaries, and firsthand accounts of local mythologies from important Qua-Toynian and Quilan individuals, were at long last going to be able to get their hands dirty. From the feathery backs of their formidable bronco rides, they caught sight of a walled settlement of mudbrick houses and dark-colored tents on the foot of a small hill. As they got closer, Olek rode his bronco up to the front and raised his hands high into the air, a gesture of familiarity that the armed beastmen on the walls of the settlement reciprocated. Not long after, the settlement’s tall, girthy wooden gates swung open to receive them.

Olek then turned to the Japanese mission just behind him.

“Welcome to Zarak: my hometown and the de facto ‘capital’ of my domain. Your destination, Krko, is just behind that hill.”