It is always hard for those who stand on the right side of the events of history. It is a heavy mantle that I have no joy in bearing.

- Gilgamesh of Uruk.

The new day’s sun brought soft pastel colors that would later fade to a strict uniform azure. This close to the iron gray ocean, the wind brought with it the first hints of a salty tang, notes of the sea. The Green Road, that oddly spear-straight river, finished as strangely as it had begun. Its waters disappeared into a pool ringed by high prehistoric horsetails. At the base of these plants was thick thorny briar that writhed with alien and jealous intent, forming a natural wall that prevented all from entering. The end of the Green Road marked the end of my time with the people of the Raven.

Tomorrow would be a time for farewells, but also new beginnings. A new chapter of my adventures, yet unwritten.

Our camp was set up a mere stone's throw from the city's walls, just outside the main gates. Our mounted escort had told us of new tariffs and certain new forms that needed to be filled in before they headed back into the city. Before they left, the guards offered to expedite the process for a fee, pointedly warning him that outside the walls was not safe. However, Laes, in his miserly stubbornness, did not want to enter the city with the train until he had confirmed the truth of these new changes.

To the north of us, extensive, irrigated crop fields stretched out, the breadbasket of the city. There, numerous workers, donning wide-brimmed hats to shield themselves from the sun's harsh glare, labored diligently. I assumed them to be free men, for I had yet to see or hear the slaver’s lash. Al-Lazar was a city, after all, that prided itself on being a “free city.” Surrounding the fields was a natural barricade of large rocks, hardy plants, and trees, which served to keep the encroaching desert sands at bay.

Across the beaches, was a very different sort of agriculture. Great flowering vines that looked like the green tentacles of a giant slumbering sea creature wove their way across the bleach bone sand, creating a vivid tapestry of color and life amidst the sand and sea. Among the plants, workers toiled with a manic frenzy, harvesting the flowers into large baskets. These were the famous Dust fields of the Al-Lazar, the primary source of the city’s wealth. The source of the narcotic Dust.

Encircling the city itself were towering walls, constructed from thick, heavy blocks of yellow sandstone. The men patrolling atop these fortifications, clad in bronze and iron armor, moved in perfect lockstep behind the crenelated battlements. Strategically placed along the walls were machicolations, sinister structures designed to let defenders rain down a variety of deadly materials onto the attackers below. Portions of the battlements were covered, sheltering what must have been ballistae, their fearsome spear bolts leaning over the walls with deadly promise. Parts of other siege engines, like the arms of catapults or trebuchets, peaked over strategic sections of the wall. High and formidable towers, like fortified minarets, stood at the corners, overseeing and completing the city's imposing defensive structure.

Rising above even the high walls of the city, a magnificent dome was visible, its gold plating reflecting the sun's rays with a resplendent brilliance. This was the renowned Puhru Bitu, the Council Chambers, or the Dome of Becoming, and it was the seat of power for the Shareholder families, as well as the heart of governance in the city.

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The magnificence and grandeur of the architecture was nothing short of magnificent, rivaling even the splendors of my old world. Their architects and builders must have dreamed of achieving immortality by leaving behind great legacies carved and raised from stone. But I was not so foolish as to settle for such a lesser prize. No, I vowed to one day achieve true life everlasting.

I squinted and saw movement. A short distance from the eastern wall, I witnessed a scene most unusual unfold before my very eyes. A small group of cavalry was riding hard.

In the midst of their ranks, was a figure astride a creature that could only be described as gracefully monstrous. At least a head taller than the horses, this six-limbed lizard ran with a fluid, loping gait. It propelled itself on four of its limbs, while the front pair had three sickle claws each that seemed capable of effortlessly tearing through both flesh and bone. The creature's head and long tail boasted a striking display of feathers and plumes, all shimmering in shades of purple and red, loosely reminiscent of the velociraptors of Earth’s ancient past.

The small contingent of mounted soldiers appeared to be herding a group of odd, pearly blue humanoids, twenty strong, toward the sea. The soldiers of the city were not all riding ordinary mounts.

No, they were harrying them, I realized, as they hurled spears at the retreating figures. They cut across the Dust fields, as the cavalry, barely sparing the panicked workers any attention, almost ran them down in their chase of the strangely colored men. Unable to navigate a path through the large vines, a horse gave out a shrill whinny as it tripped and fell, tossing its rider to the carpeted ground.

In a desperate move, one of the green creatures tossed an odd device at the horsemen, which exploded into a burst of translucent slime, impeding their pursuit. Seizing this opportunity, the pursued group, instead of continuing along the white sands of the beach, started to wade into the iron-gray sea before disappearing beneath the waves.

The cavalry, once they extricated themselves from the slime, raised their weapons and gave out ululating cries that celebrated their victory. Their mission accomplished, they picked up their fallen companion, euthanized his horse, and began their ride back to the city.

If I was not mistaken, and from the descriptions I had heard from the Ravens, the people or creatures that had retreated into the sea were the Mer, a party of them sent to scout out the surface-dweller’s realm.

The people of the sea often initiated their assaults with probing missions, much like the one I had witnessed, setting the stage for a larger attack. A massive, amphibious onslaught aimed at capturing the city. Vast numbers of the sea-dwellers, along with their formidable war beasts of the deeps, would emerge from the ocean depths, launching themselves at the city walls in a frenzied, often suicidal, attack. These ferocious assaults were typically repelled through the combined efforts of the city's defenders, bolstered by the hired hands of the Adventurer's and Mercenary's Guild. Despite these defenses, the city walls had once been breached, leading to intense, bloody combat within the city itself. This harrowing incident spurred the city-state's governing body into action, prompting them to strengthen and modernize their fortifications in an immense public works project.

Were we safe, outside the city walls? True, the defenders of the city had made short work of the rather pathetic scouting party of the Mer, but still, I could not help but feel that the caravan was taking unnecessary risks. By the looks of things, we were the first of the trading groups to cross the desert and should have been more than welcome in the city. Surely, the man could have used that to his advantage? Perhaps, this was another tactic of Laes to influence the price of his goods one way or another. However, my concerns for the caravan would soon be neither here nor there.

Yesterday, I finally negotiated through a potentially rather messy situation. It revealed to me, like some Eastern cultures of my old world, that theirs was, at its core, a very transactional one. It was a little off-putting, barbaric almost, but also had a stark simplicity that did away with a lot of meaningless nonsense.

One gold was a simple, and relatively small amount of money, all things considered, for services rendered. It would mean that I would not be leaving enemies behind.