As the sun stands alone in the sky, so too must the best stand alone among the many.

- Gilgamesh of Uruk.

A murmur swept through the court of Salahaem, quickly silenced as I drew the blade from its scabbard with a metallic ring. What emerged was not the usual silver steel, but a curved, burnished bronze blade about a pace long. It bore a striking resemblance to the katana of my old world, though it ended in a more pointed tip for better thrusting. The guard was simple—a crossguard with one tip curling upward, the other downward, with a small ruby set at its center. The grip was wrapped in rough hide or skin and my hands tingled touching it. There was magic here. Soon enough, I used my own magic to know the truth of it.

Spellwrought Bronze Shearwater Sword - [Minor Magical Weapon]

Durability: 474/480

I had encountered such a blade like this before on my journey to Al-Lazar. And, like then, I had no real, practical, use for it. And, I had no need for novelty.

Still, it was a Shearwater Sword from the Land of Streams. Such a pretentious name, I snorted inwardly.

I glanced at Larynda and mouthed a silent question. She shook her head, indicating she didn't need it either.

So I puzzled over what to do with my prize as the servants started to unceremoniously carry away the corpse of the foolish man who had sought to challenge his betters. I arrived at an answer.

Raising the elegant weapon above my head, I was met with wild cheers from the crowd. Barbarity, it seemed, was not reserved just for the less fortunate.

“Who wants this fool’s sword?” I called out, my voice cutting through the noise. “It would make for an exotic ornament or a great conversation piece, I’m sure!”

Laughter rippled through the crowd and many raised their hands eagerly.

Lady Aelayah crossed her arms, a forced smile playing on her lips. “Yours was a masterful display, but this is not a village market square… You simply cannot…”

“Twenty gold!” a young man shouted, waving a wad of notes above his head as if this were an auction.

Another voice, shrill and eager, cut through the air. A dark-haired woman, bedecked in finery and jewels, raised both hands and cried, “Thirty gold!”

The bids surged, a clamoring wave of sound that was music to my ears. More, I wanted more. I basked in their attention, absorbing it as a plant the rays of the morning sun.

“Please, stop this!” Lady Aelayah pleaded, the veneer of her earlier elegance slipping away, revealing the young girl beneath. “I’ll ensure you get more for your trinket…” she hissed.

“As the lady wishes,” I replied with a florid bow, raising both hands to quiet the crowd. It was proof, if any were needed, that the human thirst for the exotic was as strong here as anywhere.

When one held the interest of a crowd, one could control it.

Larynda and Vincenzio approached me to offer their congratulations.

“Well done. One expected such a result, but I was impressed nonetheless. A good showing,” the Necromancer complimented, his tone as if he had just swallowed a lemon.

Vincenzio leaned in closer. “His soul will make a great addition to my collection,” he whispered with a wink, a shark-like grin spreading across his face. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“That was amazing!” Larynda beamed, her enthusiasm shining like the Silver badge on her chest, clear for all to see.

“Now then…” Lady Aelayah’s voice was husky and arresting, drawing me in, though I couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes. It was too unsettling.

“Now then…” she repeated, catching my discomfort. Her expression tightened, a flash of annoyance—or perhaps anger—crossing her face. Her tone shifted, a cruel edge creeping into it. “If you wish to enter my service, there’s one final test. You must survive a few touches against one of our best… A Sleeper.”

“My Lady Aelayah, you cannot be serious… that’s too great a test!” Vincenzio protested. “A Sleeper has spent several lifetimes within the Dream, perfecting his art. This is an…”

Lady Aelayah ran a hand through her dark brown hair and cut him off. “Come now, didn’t young Gilgamesh claim to be one of the greatest to ever walk these lands? Surely, this should be no challenge at all, no?”

“You might as well have denied him outright and spared us this charade!” he continued, his voice rising. “If this is to save the face of…”

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As they spoke, two burly men approached, carrying a chest. They opened it to reveal stacks of Lazarian paper currency inside. Even Vincenzio, who I suspected to possess considerable private wealth, was silenced by the display.

“I believe this will suffice as an apology… I fully understand that the young Gilgamesh must withdraw his challenge,” Lady Aelayah offered with a condescending, superior smile.

“I’ll take on this Sleeper—or Sweeper—fellow,” I stated confidently.

Her smile faltered, and she coughed in surprise, covering her mouth.

“Gilgamesh, you can not be serious!” Vincenzio said sharply, looking me in the eye, willing me to agree with him.

“He dealt with the other one as if were a kid? What’s one more, Gil, right?” Larynda stated happily. “Damn, he made that look easy, didn’t he,” she bubbled, patting me on the shoulder.

The girl had grown sufficiently bloody-thirsty it seemed that she had forgotten that a man had just died. An unimportant man, but a man nonetheless. Where was the humanity?

“Very well then, I will tell Waqas to keep his touch light… hopefully avoiding the death of our honored guest and source of much amusement,” Lady Aelayah tried to compromise, wearing a mask of new calm. There was something here, something she was trying to hide.

“You had best not, for I intend to kill whoever you put forth against me. They deserve a fighting chance at least,” I declared, knowing it in my soul that my words were a divine truth. At this juncture, I had become more than just unstoppable. I had become inevitable.

“Please, a moment, Lady Aelayah. I don’t think Gilgamesh understands the full scope of what he’s about to face,” Vincenzio said apologetically, bowing his head as he gently pulled me a few paces away.

“A Sleeper of Al-Lazar is far more formidable than that would-be warrior you just defeated,” he whispered, leaning close to my ear. He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, “You think you’re great because you’ve stepped just past the first threshold of the Dust Dream?”

He pulled back, running a hand across his bald pate. “Unfortunately, I’m no expert in the use of Dust… it’s a secret jealously guarded by the Houses. Yours was the first time I’d ever succeeded in using it, and I had to disguise it as a Curse to avoid the gaze of the Divines. But the Sleepers… they spend countless lifetimes in a dream. A day a century, a year, millennia. The very construct of their existence in the Dream is formed as a Blessing. Time slows ever more as their minds adapt to the Dust, with each generation’s knowledge passed down to them.

No matter how powerful you think you are… you wouldn’t stand a chance,” he warned emphatically, his voice rising slightly towards the end.

I pretended to take him seriously and just nodded to him.

We returned to where Aelayah was waiting for us, flanked by a near ramrod-stiff Farzan.

"Please, a word in private, Lady Aelayah," I requested, offering her my best courtly bow, just as Cordelia had taught me so long ago.

She seemed delighted, a small smile playing on her lips. "I will allow it."

"Aelayah!" Farzan blustered, his voice thick with indignation. His outburst earned him a swift slap from his irate mistress.

"Do not dare question me, Farzan. You a mere cousin from one the further branches of this House. I simply am not in the mood today," she snapped. Despite her smaller stature—an inch or so shorter than Larynda—she somehow commanded the situation with regal ease.

Farzan fell silent, his olive skin, against all reason, flushing a hot red.

"Please, this way, Gilgamesh," she said, gesturing for me to follow. She led me a short distance away from all of the others, humming softly to herself. We stopped beneath a perfectly conical tree shaped by a gardener's shears, just out of earshot of the marquee.

"You have words for me?" she asked archly, her curiosity well-hidden.

It was time to take my random shot in the dark. The weakness of Salahaem could not be attributed to a single girl taking the reins.

“Salahaem has no Sleepers, and I suspect has not any for a while…” I ventured, searching for any reaction.

To her credit she was able to keep her expression impassive, her face did not betray her, nor her eyes. It was a subtle shifting of her feet that told me all I needed.

Wisely she kept her silence, staring at me with her unsettling gaze. Neither denial not acceptance.

“I can be such a one… the sword of your House,” I offered earnestly.

“They say that one of the Alims is the equal to any Sleeper and you would boast the same. Had I not witnessed your earlier display, I would have still held my fair share of the doubt,” she answered with an exasperated sigh. “I think that you, and the secrets you think you hold, are not a sword, but a dagger aimed at our breast.”

So, I had hit the nail on the head with my wild, random guess.

“You have but to grasp the dagger by the handle and point it at your enemies,” I added, doing my best to meet her gaze. “I will make sure that it cuts deep and true.”

She came closer, almost intimately so as she looked up, unblinking, into my eyes with an almost distant air. I had to stop myself from shivering. “And if your claims are true, why would offer yourself to us?”

I sighed. “A man like myself has a habit of making many enemies. A curse when one sits at the top of the mountain. However, rest assured your enemies will become mine. And a man, well a man must fill his bowl.”

“The arrogance of you! But you say these things… you believe them. These eyes have seen many things. They see a truth that others miss. I can…” she tried to say sagely.

“Please, spare me. Do not mistake a disability for power,” I snorted at her attempt.

“Who are you!? You would dare!” she demanded, absolutely flustered by my response.

“Even if they can not hear us, they are watching us. Now then, head of the Salahaem, will you accept my offer?”

Lady Aelayah took a small breath to regain her composure. She searched for the answers in my eyes, her lips parted just so. Expectantly, I imagined. I focused on them, and the line of her neck, not wanting to look her in the eyes.

No, this was not attraction I saw here, but fear. A subtle fear, but the signs were there nonetheless.

“How can I take someone into my service who can not even bear to look at me? Am I a monster to you? How could I ever trust you to be one of my Tamkar?” she asked in a half-whisper. “To represent us in the Festival?”

“You have at least considered it then.” I met her eyes for a moment, before looking away again, feigning bashfulness. “My reasons are not what you think. The sun is beautiful is it not? But, you can not look at it for too long lest you go blind. That is my reason, Lady Aelayah of the Salahaem. Now, I have answered. It is only polite that you answer me in turn,” I rejoined with a playful smile of my own, making sure to add a dash of false nervousness.

Then, it overcame me, a feeling as if a shadow had fallen over my soul. I looked up, only to see the indifferent Sahel, the sun, up above, the wind rustling through the grass, whispering its secrets with every blade. Every sound, every breath, seemed to conspire in this moment, heavy with the weight of fate and destiny, as if all that had come before had led inexorably… to this.