The tall, dark-skinned man, dressed in elegant simplicity, approached the couple of farmers, their cart laden with goods as two silent laborers worked to finish loading it. His movements exuded self-confidence, and his smile was disarming, one that held both charm and mystery. "Good day," he greeted them, his voice smooth and charismatic. "Are you bound for the grand market in Ekwin-City, by any chance? If so, I would like to request a ride in your cart. For half a silver coin, naturally."

The couple turned to him, their heads moving almost in perfect synchronization. “But of course,” they replied, their voices blending into an amusing harmony, as though they had long ago perfected the art of talking in unison.

The farmer looked the man over, his eyes sharp yet kind. “You’re new to these parts,” he remarked, his tone matter-of-fact, not framed as a question but a simple observation. The man responded with a slight nod, confirming the farmer's assessment without words.

“I am,” he said, “I seek a jeweler on behalf of my employer, a lady of high nobility.” His words were carefully measured, betraying nothing more than necessary.

At this, the farmer's wife brightened visibly, her eyes sparking with recognition. “Oh! Let me guess,” she said eagerly, “you’re looking for Master Awud, aren’t you?”

The man smiled again, this time with a touch of intrigue. “Indeed, that is the name my lady, Lady Senihe, instructed me to seek.”

The mention of Lady Senihe stirred something in the air, as if the name carried the weight of a quiet, looming significance. Senihe was a name well-known, though rarely spoken aloud outside royal circles. She was expected to succeed her uncle, King Yamil, the aging monarch of Osebind, a neighboring kingdom whose border lay thirty leagues to the south of the farmers' humble home in the upcountry of Ekwin Province, the economic heart of the Awreki nation. 

Osebind was a land rich with history and complex politics, and its future lay increasingly in the hands of the enigmatic Lady Senihe.

Unlike many who wore the mantle of nobility, Senihe was not a product of the sheltered world of the Citadel, the center of Osebind’s aristocratic life. She had been raised in Uerkand, a working-class town known for its industrious spirit and the bustle of its everyday life. Her father, Tehib, a professor of literature and a poet in his quieter moments, and her mother, Jemime, had chosen a life that rejected the opulence of their birthright. Jemime, in particular, had turned her back on the aristocracy with a ferocity that had surprised even her closest kin.

Jemime was the sister of King Yamil, yet her disdain for the nobility was no secret. After completing her medical training, she settled in Uerkand to serve the common folk, choosing the path of a healer over that of a court lady. It was in Uerkand that she met Tehib, a man of deep intellect and artistic soul. Their bond was forged not in the gilded halls of power, but in the shared belief that true nobility lay in knowledge, service, and a life lived honestly. Despite her contempt for the aristocracy, Jemime maintained a deep affection for her brother Yamil, fifteen years her senior,who reciprocated her loyalty. His frequent visits to Uerkand ensured that, despite the distance between them, the ties of family remained strong.

It was Yamil who, upon seeing the brilliance in his niece, had summoned Senihe back to the Citadel on her twenty-second birthday. He had watched her grow into a young woman of extraordinary intellect and unwavering principles, someone who could not only survive but thrive in the unforgiving dance of power. Yamil, a former general who had ascended to the throne, recognized in her something rare—a mind sharpened not by privilege, but by education and experience in the real world.

In Osebind, the throne was not strictly inherited. Succession was decided by the Throne Council, a large assembly made up mostly of nobles, but also influential notables and military officers. More often than not, the throne passed to a member of the Ghebenite clan, the royal family to which Yamil and Senihe belonged. While Yamil could not directly name Senihe his successor, his actions had made it clear to the council that he favored her. By calling her back to the Citadel and appointing her as his chief advisor and one of his ten representatives within the Throne Council, he had all but declared her the heir apparent.

Yet, nothing was guaranteed in the complex web of Osebind politics. The Throne Council, though often predictable, could still surprise. Senihe’s ascent to power was by no means assured, and her position was one that required deftness and strategy. Fortunately, Senihe possessed a calm demeanor, quick wit, and the ability to navigate both the halls of power and the common streets of Uerkand with ease. These traits had quickly begun to win her allies among the noble elite who initially viewed her with skepticism.

The Ghebenites had long held sway over the kingdom for two main reasons: they were known for their peaceful and open temperaments, which earned them the respect of the people, and their extensive influence reached every level of society. Their ancestor, Essir Gheben, had founded the kingdom of Osebind, and the bloodline's long history gave them an almost sacred legitimacy in the eyes of the nation.

Senihe’s allure lay not only in her charm but in her smarts and her approachable demeanor —a striking contrast to the rigid formalities of the Citadel. Raised among the working people of Uerkand, she carried with her the straightforward manners of an ordinary citizen, far removed from the polished yet distant decorum of the aristocracy. At first, this lack of pretense might have been disconcerting the nobility, unaccustomed as they were to such authenticity, but over time, they grew to value the ease with which she fostered genuine connections, winning over even those who had once harbored doubts about her background. 

Her mother, Jemime, had been quite different—a woman known for her fierce independence and even hostility toward the aristocracy. Those who knew Jemime had expected her daughter to inherit that same distance from the ruling class, but Senihe surprised everyone. She possessed a unique ability to bridge the gap between the noble and common worlds, much to the delight of her uncle, King Yamil.

When it came to ensuring his niece’s safety and guidance, Yamil knew precisely whom to trust. He called upon an old acquaintance, Yessin, a mercenary from the distant land of Angawa. Yessin was a man of many names—his real name, as Yamil knew it, was Augwin, although even that was an approximation of the original name, Ogun, which Yamil was unaware of. 

Despite the complexity of his identity, Yessin had always been a man of pragmatic competence. He was more than just a mercenary: a master of strategy, a seasoned diplomat, and an expert spy, Yessin had the uncanny ability to know the people who mattered most, regardless of where he traveled.

Yamil had first met Yessin long before he became king, back when Yamil was a general negotiating a truce in a border war. Yessin, representing the opposing side, had impressed him with his keen mind and practical approach to avoiding unnecessary bloodshed. Over the years, Yamil had encountered Yessin in many    perilous adventures, learning to admire the man’s resourcefulness. Yessin, who was nicknamed "Grand Captain" by his fellow mercenaries, was as comfortable on the battlefield as he was in the most delicate political negotiations.

When Yessin arrived at the palace, he did not come alone. Accompanying him were two loyal mercenaries, Astou and Osman, a married couple tasked with ensuring Senihe’s protection. Their presence was reassuring, but Yessin’s true role extended far beyond security. His primary mission was to mentor Senihe, guiding her through the complex world of diplomacy and military strategy, and assisting her in any task she might assign—including, as in the current case, tracking down a mysterious jeweler whose reputation was as prestigious as it was elusive.

Although Senihe presented herself as a woman of simplicity, there was one realm in which her sophistication was unparalleled—her appearance. She had inherited both her mother’s sharp intellect and her father’s artistic sensibility. Jemime, despite rejecting the aristocratic life, had insisted that her daughter be well-versed in the arts, as was common in Osebind’s nobility. Senihe had studied music, painting, and design, and these disciplines gave her a refined aesthetic sense that was evident in everything she wore: Senihe designed her own clothes with a natural, effortless creativity that left even the Citadel’s most skilled seamstresses in awe as they brought her visions to life.

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 She would often visit street markets and small boutiques, selecting accessories that weren’t necessarily luxurious but were always meticulously crafted. Her outfits, therefore, were not just fashionable; they were works of art. Each one reflected a part of her multifaceted personality, blending elegance with a touch of the unconventional.

During a formal reception at the Citadel, honoring the Lady Governor of Ekwin Province, Senihe’s eye was drawn to a necklace worn by Governor Hafsa Eydyk. The necklace was an intricate piece, composed of delicate gold and platinum chains braided together and adorned with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. The gems appeared to be arranged haphazardly at first glance, but as Senihe examined them, her mathematician's mind detected a subtle pattern. The placement of the stones wasn’t random at all. Certain shapes repeated themselves in irregular intervals, suggesting a hidden message.

While one of the senior advisors delivered a long, conventional speech on the brotherhood between Osebind and the neighboring nation of Awrek, Senihe entertained herself by attempting to decode the necklace’s hidden message. Without the aid of paper and pen, the exercise required focus, but it wasn’t overly difficult for someone of Senihe’s abilities. Soon enough, the message became clear: it read "Grace and Love," a motto associated with a once-secret society called "The Guiding Hand," a centuries-old order of priestesses from the Anewhi cult. This cult had deep roots in both Awrek and several regions of Osebind.

Senihe’s discovery didn’t stop at the necklace. She noticed a small tattoo on the inside of Governor Hafsa’s left wrist: a circle surrounding a seven-pointed star, the symbol of The Guiding Hand. This same symbol had been etched into Senihe’s own life—her mother, Jemime, bore the same mark. Senihe herself wore a pendant featuring a gold circle and a black obsidian heptagram, the emblem of a Primitive Initiation into the order.

Later, during the banquet, protocol placed Senihe at the Governor’s side. Hafsa leaned in, her voice low but warm, and whispered a greeting reserved for members of their shared order. "May your path be eternally illuminated, Lady Senihe." The words, though spoken softly, carried a weight of ancient tradition. Senihe smiled and responded in kind, “May Grace accompany you, Excellency.”

Their quiet exchange signaled not just mutual recognition, but a deep, almost spiritual connection. As their conversation drifted into more mundane matters, Senihe subtly inquired about the origins of the necklace. Hafsa, pleased with Senihe’s interest, explained that it was the work of a master jeweler named Awud, a name spoken with reverence. Each piece crafted by Awud was one of a kind, a masterpiece designed for a specific wearer, as unique as the person who commissioned it.

Awud was a mystery even among the elite. A master craftsman and traveler, he had a workshop somewhere in Ekwin-City, though its exact location was a closely guarded secret. Awud dealt in stones that were said to be beyond breathtaking, rare gems he had gathered from the farthest corners of the world. Few had ever met him in person, but his reputation had grown to legendary proportions.

Intrigued, Senihe had sent Yessin to locate Awud. The mission was delicate, for it involved the unraveling of the subtle mystery surrounding the jeweler. Awud’s work, like the code hidden in Hafsa’s necklace, held secrets that could be valuable to someone with Senihe’s sharp intellect and noble ambitions.

*

Ekwin-Ville, with its bustling population of over two hundred thousand inhabitants, had grown from humble beginnings as a military outpost defending the border between Awrek and Osebind. In those days, territorial disputes were frequent, and both nations fought bitterly to maintain control of key areas. Over time, however, relations had softened, and the town, once dominated by soldiers and fortifications, evolved into a thriving center of trade. The streets were now filled not with the clamor of armed men, but with the lively chatter of traders, shoppers, and entertainers. Open-air markets and taverns lined the thoroughfares, while vibrant crowds swarmed from one shop to the next. The Awreki were known for their outgoing, sociable nature and their sharp business acumen, making Ekwin-Ville a hub of vibrant trade.

At the heart of this energetic town was Nahr Alrakha’, the most important street in the city, where the wealthiest and most successful merchants conducted their business. Here, towering buildings housed emporiums of goods from all over the world. Among these merchants was the renowned Mehmet Emeros, whose empire spanned multiple continents. Emeros was not only a trader of wines, fabrics, and spices but also a powerful landowner, his estates scattered across over a dozen of countries. He had built his immense fortune supplying aristocratic households with the finest goods, his reputation cemented in the cellars of the world's elite.

It was at Emeros’ vast and somewhat unconventional headquarters on Nahr Alrakha’ that Yessin, known to some as Augwin, arrived after parting ways with the farmer couple who had kindly given him a ride into the city. He stood before the grand structure, its architecture diverging slightly from traditional Awreki designs, though it remained in harmony with the overall aesthetic of the street. Unsure of the building’s layout, Augwin chose the most prominent entrance, hoping to find Emeros or his staff inside.

He was soon led upstairs by a vendor to a private section of the building, where Emeros conducted his business with his most trusted aides. The space was a large hall, dominated by rows of tables where clerks busied themselves with the affairs of the merchant empire. Some handled ledgers, others counted goods or calculated profits on abacuses, the room filled with the quiet murmur of industry. Augwin was escorted to one of two rooms at either end of the hall, its wooden door intricately carved with patterns that spoke of both wealth and refined taste.

Inside, Mehmet Emeros sat in an opulent armchair, opposite a young woman whom Augwin barely recognized. It had been fifteen years since he last saw Asmah, Emeros’ daughter, and she had changed much from the shy child she once was. Now she was a poised and confident young woman, though she regarded the mercenary with a puzzled expression, her eyes filled with curiosity.

As for Emeros, Augwin quickly detected something amiss in the merchant’s movements, an uncertainty in his gestures that he had seen before in others. It was the telltale sign of non-congenital blindness, the gradual loss of sight that often came with age. Nevertheless, the old man’s face lit up with recognition at the sound of Augwin’s voice.

“Greetings, Honorable Emeros, it’s me, Augwin. Do you remember me?" The mercenary spoke in the dialect of Emeros’ native island, a personal touch that made the old merchant smile broadly.

“Great Captain! What a surprise! It’s been too long,” Emeros exclaimed, his voice filled with warmth. “What a pleasure to see you again!”

Asmah continued to study Augwin, unable to hide her amazement. The man who stood before them seemed unchanged, as if the years had passed him by completely, a detail that did not escape her notice.

Emeros, always the gracious host, motioned for Augwin to sit, then rang a small silver bell. A servant appeared from a nearby door, dressed in a silk gown typical of high society in Ekwin, with a sky-blue apron over her dress. The servant, Afissat, looked every bit the image of elegance—Emeros was known for treating his staff like nobility, even dressing them in the finest clothes.

“Afissat, bring us a bottle of Amunsu and three glasses, will you? Oh, and some food as well,” Emeros instructed. Amunsu wine was a rare luxury, one of the most coveted vintages in the world. A single bottle was worth the annual salary of a high-ranking official, though for someone of Emeros’ wealth, it was a trivial expense. Augwin, who had never been one for the company of the very rich, made an exception for Emeros. The man was not less ambitious or rapacious than his peers, but he had a refined air about him and a genuine curiosity about the world. He was well-versed in art, history, and politics, and unlike most merchants, he enjoyed discussing topics outside the realm of commerce.

Afissat soon returned with the wine and an assortment of appetizers, all placed carefully on a low table made from the fossilized trunk of an ancient tree. Augwin, Emeros, and Asmah gathered around the table as the wine was poured into delicate crystal glasses, the rich aroma of the Amunsu filling the room.

“So, my old friend,” Emeros began, taking a sip of his wine, “what brings you to Ekwin-Ville? You’re not here on behalf of the Citadel to renegotiate my prices again, are you?”

Augwin chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m not working for the Citadel. I’m here on behalf of Lady Senihe.”

“Ah, Lady Senihe Gheben,” Emeros mused, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the most likely future queen. “We’ve heard much about her. Haven’t we, Asmah?”

Asmah nodded. “Yes, Father. They say she is wise, well-educated, and compassionate.”

Augwin smiled, agreeing with their praise. Working for Senihe had indeed been a pleasant experience, especially in contrast to the brutal warlords he had served in the past. The conversation soon turned to the purpose of Augwin’s visit. He was searching for Master Awud, a mysterious jeweler whose reputation for creating singular masterpieces had made him legendary among the elite.

Emeros’ expression darkened slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. “Awud,” he repeated, “yes, I know him. He’s from Tehuir, our homeland, but we seldom see him here in Ekwin. He moves about constantly and keeps to himself. He avoids public events and banquets, preferring to remain in the shadows.”

“However,” Emeros continued, after a pause, “his mistress, Idge, runs a well-known inn here in town. If anyone knows where Awud is, it’s her. Asmah can take you there.”

With that, Augwin's path to finding the elusive jeweler began to take shape. Asmah rose gracefully, preparing to escort him, while Emeros poured another round of Amunsu, his face a mask of satisfaction. For in Ekwin-Ville, no secret remained hidden for long—especially not from the eyes and ears of Mehmet Emeros.