Fields full of verdant crops, and bushes heavy with bright coloured flowers flanked the road they walked on.
It was an odd sensation to have steady ground beneath their feet, and to hear the roar of thousands of nighttime insect. But most jarring were the people passing them by on their way home for the evening. Men and women in bright coloured clothes carried wares and crops that had to be stored for the night. Sometimes they had packmules, or even camels to aid them. Soldiers in familiar crimson rode horses along the path, lightning their way with lanterns, and unlike those in the desert, these men kept a keen eye out. Yet Sandhailer still had the urge to pull his hood up further.
Near midnight they reached the city walls. The first of three. Behind it rose square towers of white stone. In the distance, three obelisk-like towers floated above the city's heart – the fabled homes of the major magi.
In the simpler streets below, colourful cloths and rosters covered windows and enclosed balustrades. Burnt red was the most common, followed by bright yellows and navy blues. Occasionally a dark green appeared.
The city bustled even at this hour. Enthused shouting and the errand sounds of entertainment reverberated along the walls. It dazed Sandhailer, as he didn't often enter such expansively cramped spaces. Swordeater however revelled in it, guiding him through the gathered people like it was second nature.
The second layer was quieter. Here too there were colours, but the blue and yellows shifted to emerald green and soft violet. The red was sweeter, like fruits. Plants and trees appeared: flowers lined the roofs and walls of larger houses, and behind several doors he caught a glimpse of gardens and pools. On the largest houses, fine mosaics depicting families had been set into slight depressions.
As pretty as it all was, Sandhailer kept an eye out on the faces of passersby. Swordeater was too engrossed in talking to see some of the heads turn curiously.
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A heavy-set man seated atop a camel adorned with intricate red and gold satin howdah, followed them with his gaze. The royal whispered something to the subordinate walking beside him. He saw a decisive nod, and another glance in their direction. It gave him a bad feeling.
Before Swordeater could respond, he grabbed the man's wrist and pulled him between houses.
"What are you,-"
"Shut it." He threw back, as he pulled them through winding alleys. There was an open garden, and he hid them in a secluded corner where the light of the lanterns and braziers wouldn’t reach.
Casting a wary glance back he waited for a few seconds to see if anyone had followed them.
"Someone pointed us out." He said, which caused Swordeater to frown.
"Well, perhaps… they recognised me? I have lived in this city for all my life."
"It wasn't friendly." There had been no joy in the gesture. If anything, he had seen disdain and malice. "Do you have any enemies?"
"Er,- I suppose, I did you know… enjoy quite a few people before I left." Swordeater stammered rather sheepishly.
He wasn't familiar with such intrigues, but fully believed one could be hated for such things. It didn't feel right: a random royal surely wouldn't recognise an officer’s son merely for sleeping with someone – as morally repugnant as it was.
A kind of curiosity washed over him, as he pieced together clues from the past weeks. From his very physique, to the way he spoke, to his naivety: Swordeater was unfit for an officer. That much he had already accepted. A royal?
An idea struck him, and although it was a long shot he plucked the letter that he had to deliver from his bandolier. They had been in the same area at the same time after all, some information could be contained within.
The Yalwaean seal was still pristine, and he had never broken one. He held it up to Swordeater.
"Read it."
"What, why?" The man stammered, bewildered by the sudden request.
"Curiosity." He answered.
Swordeater cautiously took the letter and opened it.