[The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.] - Franklin D. Roosevelt

"I am not saying anything, Elder. Actions speak louder than words. I assume this treaty was signed by every power?" Azar asked, leading the discussion into a trap.

"Yes," the elder replied.

"Every single power, or just the major ones?" Azar pressed on.

The elder narrowed his eyes, and Azar smiled, realizing his hypothesis was correct. Not all the powers had signed the treaty.

Ah, exploiting the weaknesses of bureaucracy, that's why I never liked paperwork, Azar thought.

"Just the major ones," the elder admitted heavily.

"Glad you understand. Honestly, if the prospect is tempting enough, even the major powers will forget about the treaty, but that's just my interpretation." Azar smiled meaningfully. "Now, I have no idea what you thought about the reasons behind Zahabis' actions or the motives of the power backing him, but I'm sure you can now connect the dots yourself. Your situation isn't an isolated case, Elder. The spies of different powers have already infiltrated the tribes, slowly working to gain control," Azar lied.

"I happened to kill a few, and after finding what they knew, I have reasons to believe that in two years, there will be no more tribes. The Mirha case is just the beginning. All those who refuse submission will perish. Do you know why? Because the tribes aren't united. With enough money, you can manipulate them to kill each other. It's as simple as that," Azar added fuel to the fire, letting the elder process his words.

"Money will always buy the weak hearts, what are you suggesting we do?" the elder asked after some time.

"My ideas, guidance, and resources are not to be shared with nameless people," Azar said with a deep voice, resting his chin on his fist.

The elder analyzed him for a few moments before introducing himself, calming his flux and relaxing his body.

"I am Garul i Abas da Sil, son of Johun da Sil. My father was once chief of the Sarabi, and I was once the right-hand man of the previous chief. But you have not introduced yourself properly. If you want to discuss, I will value your truthful introduction."

"So, I have the honor of speaking with one of the few wise men of this desert. I am honored," Azar replied, almost wanting to give Garul a hug.

"You knew I was a respected figure of my tribe, you knew where I resided, so I have to assume that you already knew who I am. On the other hand, I know nothing about you. You've spoken about the tribes condition, but such things require mutual trust. How can i trust you?" Garul said.

Azar retracted his awareness after a short peek inside Garul's mind, just to assure that the elder was trustworthy or needed to be enslaved. However, this little peek enabled Azar to learn an interesting tale about a book. And possibly a way to gather all the tribes under his banner.

"Knowing who I am presents a great risk to you, and if you divulge my identity to our enemies, I will have to forever silence you and your people," Azar said with a deep voice. "Do you still wish to know me now?"

The elder remained silent, not intimidated by the warning but careful about the identity of the weak and young man before him.

"Sometimes, having faith in a stranger is more rewarding than trusting someone you know," Azar said. "When the time comes, you will ask my Mirha, Surumadur, Hamsha, and Yusuf, and they will tell you about me."

Hearing his words, Garul raised his vigilance again, but that was within Azar's expectations.

"Are you from the Mirha?" Garul asked.

"I did not come here to seek revenge on you for paying the Calabi, but to make you an offer. My target is Zahabis, and as you saw, I already have him. If he is gone, the Scorpion Guard will go mad, killing your people for answers that do not exist. Moreover, the organization supporting him won't take the hit and lay low in waiting; they will simply send someone stronger to take the reins of their activities. All this will only bring more suffering for your people as you will be treated as nothing more than slaves."

Garul let out a sigh. "What do you want?" he asked with a solemn expression.

"I can make the Scorpion Guard disappear without a trace in an instant. That, however, will bring no advantage for me. If you and your tribe remain here as slaves for the Scorpion's Order, another, more cruel Zahabis will arrive, and that won't help either of us."

"Then what do you want from us?" Garul asked again. "Why telling me these?"

"I want your allegiance. In exchange for your freedom, I want you to move your tribe closer to the land that I protect. I want you to cooperate with me and the alliance between the tribes that I command," Azar said, staring straight into Garul's eyes.

"That will be difficult," Garul said. "This tribe has stood here for generations; it will be hard to convince the people to relocate now that they have more wealth than ever before. The promise of support from the Khasmi kingdom has blinded many. I am sorry to waste your time."

"To change something will always be hard," Azar said. "However, if your people are unable to see their role in the kingdom's canvas, and they let themselves be bought with so little, if your people do not see what awaits them or want to continue living with the fear of their women being raped by the Scorpion Guard, I have no use for them. The world we build does not welcome cowards and slaves, but people with a strong desire to live in freedom. The true children of the desert."

Garul remained silent, pondering deeply.

"If you and part of your tribe want to join us, we will welcome you. If you decide to remain here and endure, I will respect your decision. However, in the fight against those who wish to enslave the other tribes, you Sarabians will be caught in the middle. With no bright future ahead of you."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"How can I blindly believe someone that i don't know? How can I entrust the fate of my tribe to your hands when I don't even trust you?" Garul asked.

"You don't have to do any of these," Azar said. "All I want from you now is to relocate your tribe between the Calabi and Mirha and not become another enemy. After that, if you decide to end your cooperation with us, you can take your tribe and do whatever you want."

"If we leave, another tribe will take our place and be controlled by the kingdom. Not to mention, we could be hunted," Garul said. "We don't have the power to resist the kingdom."

"You are perfectly right. Another tribe will take your place and become their lackey, but from what I know, no tribe around here is as big as yours. As for protection, you don't have to worry. Our alliance has people at the Magister Magnus Class, and given enough time, we can produce enough flux-weavers of this class that the kingdom won't even dare attack us." Azar laughed. "Not to mention that, If the kingdom sends spies into the tribes, can't we send spies into the kingdom? Control it from within?"

"You're thinking big," Garul said. "But in my eyes you seem foolish."

"Don't judge my experience based on the appearance of this body. You have no idea who I was and what I did in the past," Azar said with confidence.

"You are talking to friendly with me. Who is part of your alliance?"

"Three tribes, led by three people," Azar replied. "Mohul, Surumadur, and Yusuf. With you will be four. And i can assure you that this alliance will not change the way of your people. If anything, will teach you the old ways of the desert. I can teach you 'The old way of the sand', train you to become the true children of the desert."

"You know the old ways?" Garul asked. "No, this is impossible, you're to young to know."

Azar smiled. When he delved into Garul's mind, he saw a treasured fragment of a memory. The memory contained the verbal story of a book called 'The old way of the sand'. Strange was the fact that Azar found this book title familiar. That was because Tariq had also mentioned it.

He had no idea what was this book about and what was written in it. No idea it it actually existed or was just a legend. However, knowing so many things from the past, Azar got the idea of manipulating the people into following him.

And maybe that book was truly tied with the old ways of the flux-weavers living in the desert. If that was the case, who could better train and teach the people about the old ways then Azar himself and Araumir?

"There was a time when there were Six Great Clans in this world, not just five as they are now. Those were the times when the white sand still existed," Azar said. "In those times, a warrior's heart was forged in the heat of the sun and the stillness of the dunes—undaunted by the storms and unshaken by the silence. It knew that strength was not in the blade, but in the will to endure, adapt, and rise again with the shifting sands."

"What's this supposed to mean?" Garul asked. "They are the words of a wise person, but they prove nothing."

"It is up to you if you believe it or not," Azar said, drawing a rune in mid air. "But if you know nothing about the old ways, how can you verify their authenticity? The only way is to experience them and to see the results. And you will see the results that will start to appear in the Mirha tribe. In the strength of their warriors."

When finished, the intricate rune start absorbing the flux around to sustain itself and increase its strength. Azar touched it two times to prove Garul that the rune was solid, tangible to the hand, before waving his hand and sending the rune to the old man.

"Take it as a gift," Azar said. "It is a protective rune that can increase its strength over time. Keep it close to yourself and use it to study or save your life if needed. It should have enough energy to block a the attack of a Bellator in four months."

Garul analyzed the rune, then Azar's expression before nodding.

"I'll have to talk with the rest of the elders to make a decision about your proposal," he said.

"Do it fast. I will kidnap the Scorpion Guard when you go out to prove my stand, but if your people decide not to accept my offer, I will release them. We don't know each other well enough for me to help you with nothing in return," Azar said. "Make a big fire when you finish talking. I will see the smoke. And be careful. Don't trust all your friends; some of them are not as friendly as you might think. If you lose your life, I'm not sure who I can trust with my plans."

With a short bow of his head, Azar submerged into the shadow he came from, leaving Garul alone in his room.

Garul remained absorbed by the rune for a few more seconds before placing it on a nearby table. "Is someone around?" he shouted after coming out of his tent.

"Grandpa?" Bodul, Garul's grandson, answered his call.

"Go and gather the elders. Tell them that the chief's birthday is approaching and we have something important to discuss. Notify your father and uncle as well; I want them to be present," Garul said.

"Yes, I will go immediately."

After sending Bodul to gather the people, Garul went to look at the members of the Scorpion Guard from a distance. Observing him from the shadow world, Araumir sent the mental command for his shadow folks to begin.

In an instant, the shadow folks sprang into action. Their shadowy tendrils shot out, wrapping around the ankles and wrists of the Scorpion Guards. The guards barely had time to react before they were pulled into the dark world below, their cries of alarm muffled by the shadows that enveloped them.

Araumir watched with cold satisfaction as his minions dragged the struggling guards toward him. The black mist around him seemed to ripple and twist, opening like dark, yawning mouths that swallowed the guards whole, storing them safely in his stomach. The desert floor appeared to ripple as the gates closed in the places from where the Scorpion Guards were pulled into the shadow world, their forms disappearing into the inky blackness.

Within the shadow world, everything was a distorted mirror below the physical realm. The guards, now fully aware of their predicament, struggled desperately against their captors. The shadow folks, however, were relentless. They tightened their grip, their dark forms merging and blending with the shadows around, making it nearly impossible to distinguish where one ended and the other began.

Araumir stepped forward, his form entering the realm of his stomach as he prepared to address the new toys.

"Welcome to my world," he said, his voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance. "Your resistance is futile here. The creatures around you obey only me."

The guards, their faces twisted in fear and defiance, tried to break free, but their movements were sluggish, as if they were wading through a thick, viscous liquid. The shadow folks tightened their grip further, forcing the guards to their knees before Araumir.

"You will tell me what I need to know, when I want to know. That is if you want to see daylight ever again," Araumir continued, his eyes glowing with a sinister light. "Or you will remain here, forever lost in the darkness. I have some things here that will definitely enjoy your presence."

The guards exchanged glances, their resolve wavering. They were seasoned warriors who had faced many threats in their time, but nothing like this. The dark realm they were in was a place of nightmares, a world where their worst fears came to life. They could feel cold, spongy things pressing in around them, whispering dark promises and feeding on their fear. But for some reason, they couldn't call forth their flux; they couldn't scream.

Araumir stepped closer, his ethereal form towering over the kneeling guards. "I will give you time to decide. Choose wisely," he whispered, his voice like a cold wind cutting through the darkness. "Your fate is in your hands."

The guards, realizing the futility of their struggle, bowed their heads in reluctant submission, opening their mouths to speak. Yet no words came out. Araumir smiled, a cruel, triumphant smile. The shadows around him seemed to pulse with approval, their dark whispers growing louder.

As Araumir had fun scaring the life out of the captives, the desert outside remained eerily quiet, the only evidence of the abduction, a few discarded weapons and the lingering chill of the shadow world. Araumir and his shadow folks had accomplished their mission, leaving no clear trace behind.

Garul stood staring blankly, his complexion pale, his back covered in cold sweat. He wasn't sure of the fate of the abducted people, but he could have been one of them, and that realization froze his knees.