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In the past, The road to Serendale Village had been a bustling route frequented by light caravan merchants seeking shortcuts leading to neighboring kingdoms through Monterei, a temporarily abandoned port town. However, now it lay as a hollow road, devoid of any travelers.

The absence of caravans and merchants had cast a somber air upon the once lively pathway. Nature, unimpeded by the usual flow of commerce, began to reclaim its space. Thick foliage crept closer to the edges as if reclaiming what was rightfully its own. The silence that enveloped the road was occasionally broken by the rustling of leaves or the distant call of a bird.

Occasional signs of previous habitation dotted the route—crumbling ruins of roadside inns and abandoned stalls serving as reminders of the road's former prosperity. Weeds sprouted through the cracks of forgotten cobblestones, while moss carpeted weathered signposts, their messages fading with time.

Despite the desolate appearance, the road remained intact, offering a pathway to the isolated Serendale village. It was a journey less traveled now, but for those who dared to tread its winding path, there was an unmistakable sense of solitude and mystery.

Oliver the volunteer boy matched his march with the rear escorts. He gleefully listened to Aden talking about the tale of the Jinn, he seemed like taken an interest in the Jinn topic.

"Hey, is it true what you just said?" a young boy asked Aden, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"What?" Aden replied, intrigued by the boy's question.

"about the Jinn," the boy continued.

Aden nodded, "Yes, it's true."

Aden just played along without knowing what the kid was talking about. There have been many talks and rumors about the Median people, especially the Jinns.

"Awesome. I always wanted to be a Jinn," the boy exclaimed, his enthusiasm shining through.

Aden smiled, appreciating the boy's admiration. It caught him off guard, he never thought this before. it was usually a stupid slander or rumor about how they, the ruhimis, love to chain their women, have a harem of slaves, dozen of wives, ride camels, and live in a tent —although Aden grew up living in a tent residential— or eat babies for breakfast stuff.

the church of Aione accused the ruhimis of being heretics because they believed Aione was not a God while the ruhimis accused the church of Aione made blasphemy for revering Aione as one of the God of many names.

Animosity became conflicts and conflicts led to war.

The enmity between Median and Wessen was blown up five hundred years ago in the first crusade or holy war, known as the Clash of Claws, which broke for control over Darusalin, a holy city for two of the rivaling faiths.

The First Crusade War was the most romanticized in the art and literature of both cultures. The biggest bang was the clash between wyverns, dancing in the sky to gain aerial advantage. The use of forbidden dark arts, deception, tactics, and strategies, single combats.

it has everything to make a great script for the stage plays, songs, and storytelling.

Aden was aware that after the three holy wars, the enmity between their people developed into slanders and rumors. After all, people who hated him would never believe what he said and people who trusted him would believe what he said.

"What did they get you for?" he asked the boy, trying to change the topic.

"I was with the smugglers when the Regalyon Navy caught us. I'm Oliver, and there are Marcus, Ethan, and Victor," the boy replied, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and remorse. He introduced himself and his fellow smugglers to Aden. The boy told him how they got caught off the coast of Arumia.

Aden listened attentively as Oliver jumped over a small boulder by the road, seemingly unable to contain his energy. The boy's enthusiasm and curiosity reminded Aden of his own youthful spirit.

"Is it true that you can cut through a crusader's armor plates like butter with your curved sword?" Oliver asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"It's shamshir or scimitar," Aden corrected the boy about the curved sword which Median people mostly use, "And yes, it's true."

"Can you show me?" Oliver asked, his eagerness palpable.

Aden sighed. "As you can see, I don't have my shamsir with me. They confiscated all my gear and equipment back at the border outpost."

Disappointed, Oliver continued walking alongside Aden, his youthful energy radiating.

"You are a Wessen, aren't you?" Aden asked, curious about the boy's background.

"Yes, obviously. why?" Oliver replied, his eyes filled with wonder.

"Shouldn't you be rooting for the crusaders?" Aden questioned, intrigued by Oliver's apparent fascination with the Jinn.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Well, they don't look cool compared to the Jinns with their black armor, silver gleaming vambrace, sleek lance, and midnight blue robe with sapphire brooch," Oliver explained, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

Aden couldn't help but chuckle. "You have a point there. Jinns are not just skilled warriors, but they also have a sense of style. The founder of the Jinns had a great taste in fashion, and it shows in our attire."

Oliver's eyes lit up, his imagination running wild. "So, where can I apply to join a Jinns?" he asked eagerly.

"You can visit the Jinn's guild quarter in Zorhan City, near the border," Aden replied, his voice filled with a mixture of caution and encouragement.

He realized that it would be better for Oliver to pursue a career as a Jinn rather than continue down the dangerous path of a smuggler.

Curiosity sparked within Aden, and he turned to Oliver. "Where are your parents? Shouldn't you still be under their wing?" he inquired.

A shadow crossed Oliver's face as he answered solemnly, "They are gone, killed."

Aden was a bit shocked but still managed his composure.

"Who did it?" he asked.

"The Crusaders," Oliver replied, his voice filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. "They are searching for something maybe they needed supplies for their war against the elvens up north. My parents refused to give them what they wanted, as we didn't have enough to spare with winter approaching. yet they keep searching my place. my parents fought back and they were killed for it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Aden said softly, his voice filled with empathy.

Oliver shrugged, trying to hide his pain. "It's okay. Anyway, what's your story? How did you end up in the captivity of the border outpost in Regalia territory?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Aden shared his own story with Oliver, explaining the events that led him to his current predicament.

"My army was defeated by neighboring Emir, they brought wyverns in the last leg —"

"Wyvern?" Oliver cut in.

"yes, as big as a house. they torch and burn everything even the sand's boiled." Aden relived the last battle he had and he can never forget how the smell of human burning flesh seeping inside his nostrils crept up to his head.

"Lua blessed me, in the chaos I was swallowed by the earth into an underground river. The current swept me away to the open sea where I was stranded for two days before I got fished out of the water by the imperial navy and thrown into a dungeon." Aden explained, "They mistook me for an illegal immigrant."

"Welp, that's Imperial Navy for you." Oliver joked, "They are the dirtiest army in the empire."

The two continued their conversation, discussing the role of Jinns and the romanticized tales of warriors in battle.

The story about the holy war, known as The Crusade in the Wessen. mainly focused on the two rivaling armies; the Crest Crusaders of Wessen triarchy and the Jinns from Median Emirates.

The Crest Crusaders, the holy army of the Church of Aione, a rival to the Jinns, were comprised of soldiers from many banners across the Wessen region. Their strict discipline and well-equipped forces made them formidable adversaries.

Oliver's eyes sparkled with excitement as he listened intently, fascinated by the tales of bravery and honor.

"I can't wait to see a Jinn have a single combat against a harpy," Oliver exclaimed, his imagination running wild.

"The life of a Jinn is not all about glory," Aden explained. "We are actually not an army, so many of us have mundane jobs like farming, pottery, tinkering, or being vendors. However, don't underestimate these seemingly ordinary Jinns. They are often the most skilled and battle-hardened, having had their fill of war and seeking a different path."

Oliver was fascinated by the diverse roles and experiences of the Jinns. "I've heard that Median warriors always call for three-on-three duels in the opening of a battle, raising the morale of the army," he remarked, excitement evident in his voice.

Aden smiled, acknowledging Oliver's enthusiasm. "Yes, those stories do bring excitement. However, it's important to remember that battles are not always fought in such a manner," he explained.

Oliver's eyes sparkled with imagination. "I can't wait to see a Jinn engage in a one-on-one combat with a harpy, standing in the middle of the road, fighting until one emerges victorious," he exclaimed.

"Enemies such as the harpies won't honor such challenges. They are intelligent beings who prioritize their aerial superiority and numerical advantage over individual duels." Aden explained his thoughts about how the harpies would fight.

Oliver leaped forward, just beside the carriage horse, and reenacted the Jinn's notorious challenge of a duel. "Heed my call you winged abomination fiends! for I, Oliver son of Harold Humphries.."

But then he paused, unsure of what came next. He looked to Aden.

"Um... what's the next line?" he asked Aden.

Aden smiled.

Suddenly, a flamboyant man gracefully waltzing in, joined Oliver's imaginary stage.

"—the angel of death for the harpies, a scourge sent upon you. shall anyone of you brave enough to face me on the battlefield?!" he declared, completing Oliver's line.

It was Victor, the talented actor turned smuggler, who had interrupted Oliver. Victor's eloquent delivery and flamboyant gestures brought life to the performance.

Oliver scowled. "Oh, shut up, Victor! I was about to finish my speech. Don't you dare cut in my speech."

Victor chuckled, undeterred. "If we waited for you to finish, We may have to wait until winter is over." he teased.

"Are you not entertained?" Victor stretched his arms wide to an imaginary audience, reenacting a gladiator from theatre plays.

"Victor, that's an act from the Pit Fight plays."

"Well, I can't help it."

"Yeah, we should do that whenever we win an opening duel." Aden seemed to agree with the idea.

All of them laughed, relieved from the tension that had built up during their long journey. They still had to reach the village, but for now, they could enjoy a welcome respite from the arduous road.

⁕⁕⁕

By noon the rescue party came across a series of ruined stalls, inns, and shops then they passed by an abandoned brothel, a reminder of all the travelers and merchants that used to frequent the road before. While the street is now covered in dirt and debris, their imaginations can fill in the details of what it would have been like when it was bustling with activity.

"How long has it been abandoned?" Phil, the scrawny prisoner, inquired about the desolate road leading to Serendale village.

"Six months," Corporal Knightly replied, his gaze sweeping over the neglected surroundings. "That's when we received the last report from the inn owner who decided to close his business along this road."

The rescue party carried on. Their footsteps echoing against the silent pathway, took in the eerie stillness that hung in the air. The absence of bustling activity that once filled the road with life now left a void, making it seem like a forgotten passage lost to time.

"It's a shame," Phil murmured, his eyes tracing the faded remnants of past prosperity. "To see a road once vibrant with trade and travelers reduced to this."

"Aye," Corporal Knightly agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "But times change, and so do the paths people tread. The allure of Serendale village has diminished, it seems."

As they continued their journey, the group couldn't help but wonder what had caused the decline of the once-thriving road. Whispers of economic shifts, rumors of bandit raids, an increase in harpy infestation, or perhaps even a shift in trade routes floated through their minds. Whatever the reason, the road now stood as a forgotten witness to a bygone era.

But for this intrepid group, their purpose extended beyond the desolation of the road. They pressed on, determined to reach Serendale village and fulfill their mission.

⁕⁕⁕