Nathan came back out and traveled for an hour or two with Rami before she asked to rest for the evening. Luckily, she had an extra tent, which she hesitantly allowed him to borrow.

Nathan’s dreams that night were rather odd.

“Meet me where the river meets the sea,” the voice repeated.

“I’m literally in a desert,” he’d say, over and over.

Eventually, he woke up feeling more exhausted than before he went to sleep.

They continued walking across the shifting dunes until they came to their destination.

The desert city rose like a mirage out of the endless horizon, its towering sandstone walls shimmering under the relentless sun. Minarets and domes crowned the skyline, their surfaces catching the light in golden hues. Narrow, winding streets spilled out from the main gates like veins. A vast bazaar spread out near the entrance, colorful awnings fluttering in the dry wind, the smell of spices and cooked meats mingling with the dust.

Nathan whistled. He’d read books about exotic lands and far-off places and things of that sort growing up. It was bizarre to actually be in one of those places now.

“So, I presume we’re going to meet Zayen?” Nathan said.

“In a moment,” Rami said. “There are some things I need to attend to first, and some people I’d like you to meet.”

“Huh?”

Rami glanced over at an alleyway, then started off in that direction. “Come with me.”

Nathan followed behind her. Soon enough, they came to a stop.

“What’s all this about?” Nathan asked.

“Tell me, what was your impression of Zayen?”

Nathan scratched the back of his neck.

“He seemed like an alright kid. A little young to be a ruler.”

Rami smiled thinly. “What if I told you that it’s so much worse than that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Zayen is a puppet,” she said. “Omarn? That man is concerned about nothing but himself. He uses his office for material gain, and Zayen listens to him.”

Nathan furrowed his eyebrows together. “I don’t know, they didn’t come off like that when I spoke to them. Omarn was definitely kind of rude, but he didn’t seem bad.”

“Didn’t he propose your imprisonment?”

“Well, yeah, but in his defense, I’m kind of a suspicious person, so that probably wasn’t unreasonable.”

“Nathan.” Rami’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve witnessed it firsthand. They’re bleeding this city dry. If you don’t act, who will?”

Nathan furrowed his eyebrows together. “If I don’t act? What are you suggesting?”

Rami’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nathan, you’re an outsider. Neutral. Unbiased. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll garner the support of the people in no time.”

“…okay? And?”

“If we worked together, we could overthrow Zayen,” Rami said. “You could bring peace and justice to this kingdom and save all the poor farmers.”

Nathan squinted his eyes. “Wait, who steps in if Zayen is overthrown?”

“Me,” Rami said. “But it would only be till the city stabilizes. Purely temporary.”

“Right,” Nathan said slowly.

Rami’s eyes flickered to the left and right. “Omarn has spies everywhere. If we’re not careful, this conversation alone could doom us both. I need to meet with my…allies. Stay here. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t draw attention to yourself. I’ll return shortly.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan said. “Stay here. Got it.”

Rami flashed him a smile that was all teeth, then slipped into the shadows of the alleyway. As soon as she was out of sight, Nathan walked off toward the bazaar.

Nathan’s ears twitched.

“…I’m telling you, we’re being bled dry!”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s his fault.”

“Sure it is. He’s the boss!”

Nathan peeked around the corner. A group of men in rugged clothes were gathered around a table, drinks clasped in their hands or on the table.

Nathan approached them. This would be a good opportunity to get some answers.

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Nathan approached the table.

“Afternoon,” he said. “Mind if I sit?”

The bearded man gave him a long, skeptical look, then gestured with a grunt. “Suit yourself. Not much to say, but you’re welcome to listen.”

Nathan nodded, taking a seat. “Sounds like you’ve got some concerns about the leaders here.”

The wiry man, who had been nursing a drink, leaned forward. “Concerns? Yeah, we’ve got a few. You heard of the Dustend?” he asked, his voice rough.

“I’ve heard,” Nathan said. “Hard to miss it.”

I was caught in it, actually.

“It’s more than just a storm,” the wiry man continued, eyes narrowing. “It’s the end of everything. Crops can’t grow, nothing survives it. And Zayen and Omarn… they’re playing at solutions, but it’s all smoke and mirrors. Meanwhile, we’re starving.”

“Solutions?” Nathan tilted his head. “What kind of solutions?”

The bearded man grunted, his face darkening. “Omarn tells us to rotate crops. What good is that when the soil’s turned to dust? Zayen’s got ideas—old farming tricks—but none of them work. You can’t plant a field that’s been salted by the storms. You can’t pretend the land’s still fertile.”

Nathan nodded slowly. “What do you want them to do, then?”

“Fix it!” the wiry man snapped. “Build walls or something to block the storms. Hell, I don’t know, but don’t just sit there pretending the land’s still good.”

“Storms don’t work that way,” Nathan said.

The wiry man glanced sharply at him. “Oh, you’re one of those, huh?”

“I’m just saying. It sounds like they’re doing what they can, even if it’s not working the way you want.”

The bearded man scoffed. “Doing what they can? They’ve got their pockets lined, and we’re left to starve.” His eyes narrowed. “Zayen wants us to believe we’re the problem. That we’ve ruined the land. But we’ve lived here for generations.”

“And you don’t think there’s any truth to that? About the land, I mean?”

The younger man, who had been silent up until now, chimed in with a hint of bitterness. “The land doesn’t need saving, it just needs to be left alone. This is our home. Not Zayen’s plaything. And as for all that talk about leaving… that’s just madness. We can’t just abandon our ancestors.”

Nathan’s thoughts briefly turned inward. He didn’t say it aloud, but the truth was hard to ignore. They didn’t belong here. The people here were not from this place. They weren’t born into this desert, no matter how much they believed otherwise. They were Delvers, descendants of those who had made a deal with the System long ago. There was no way in hell the System constructed these people as NPCs or something. They made a deal… but their deal was done so long ago they’d forgotten that they made it.

He shifted. “Yeah, I get it. You’re tied to this place. But that doesn’t make the problems go away.”

“And you think Zayen has the answers?” The wiry man said. “He’s a kid, a puppet of Omarn. He’s not even fit to rule.”

“I’m not saying that,” Nathan said. “Just… it sounds like you’re upset because you want change, but you’re not sure what that change should be.”

The bearded man leaned back, scowling. “Change? We don’t need change. We need someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who isn’t lost in fantasies about the past. Zayen’s got these grand ideas about us all going back to some green place, but that’s just a fairy tale. We’re here now. This is our land.”

“Right,” Nathan said.

“This land’s been ours for centuries. We belong here. You can’t just erase that. No matter what anyone says.”

Nathan pursed his lips.

He probably wouldn’t be able to convince them to resume the march toward the Ninth Circle. Hell, that might not have been the right decision anyway. Maybe these people were right to stay and cling to this place. What if they tried to march downward and just get themselves killed? Maybe it was the smart thing to just… remain here.

But he could at least make sure they don’t starve.

“I have an offer,” Nathan said.

A few of the farmer’s heads perked up.

“What kind of offer?” the wiry man said. “If this is some kind of scam attempt…”

“No, it’s not a scam.” Nathan tapped his hands against the table. “I’m actually a farmer. Sort of.”

“You? A farmer?”

Nathan nodded, feeling a bit awkward but also more sure of himself than he had earlier. “I’m not from around here, but I know enough to help with the land. I’ve worked with crops before—just recently, I helped out a guy named Abaya. If you’re willing to try something different, I can come back to your farm with you and help you out.”

“You helped out Abaya?” the bearded man’s eyes widened. “He can vouch for you?”

“Yeah. I’m sure if you asked him, he’d tell you that his soil looks better than before and he’s looking forward to the coming season.”

There was a long, heavy silence. The bearded man grunted, taking another swig from his mug. “What’s it going to hurt? My farm’s already on the verge of being a wasteland. If you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve, I might as well give it a shot.”

Nathan nodded. “Great. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning, if you want. We’ll take a look at what’s going on and figure out a plan.”

The wiry man looked at Nathan for a long moment, then muttered, “Well, if it doesn’t work, I’ll be the first to say I told you so.”

“I can handle that. It’s worth a try.”

The bearded man stood up, brushing sand from his pants. “Alright, foreign farmer. We’ll see if you’re worth your salt.”

Nathan gave a nod of acknowledgment, standing as well. “I’ll see you then.”

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Anand crouched behind a pile of crates. He scratched his chin, frowning slightly as he jotted down more notes in his leather-bound notebook.

He shot a quick glance at Nathan again, his brow furrowed in concentration. The man seemed like an ordinary person—nothing that screamed danger. But Vince had said Nathan was responsible for “disappearing” an entire branch of the Hand. And that intrigued the Head Hand enough to send him on this assignment. The Head Hand was cautious, paranoid even, so they’d sent multiple spies all across the land. And somehow, Anand had been unlucky enough to run into this ‘Nathan’.

He was lucky that the lady had said Nathan’s name—otherwise Anand would’ve totally missed them and gone to the next town.

“Dude needs better clothing,” he muttered under his breath. His handwriting was messy, the edges of the page crumpled where he’d been pressing too hard. “Looks goofy. It barely fits him.”

He glanced around, making sure nobody had seen him. He shifted his position, but his cloak caught on the corner of a nearby barrel, pulling it over with a dramatic crash.

“Oh—crap.” Anand winced as the barrel clattered to the ground. He froze, holding his breath. But the moment passed, and nobody seemed to notice. He let out a relieved sigh and quickly scribbled more notes.

“Clumsy. Should’ve been more careful. Don’t let this happen again.”

He scratched his head. “Still can’t figure out how he’s a threat. Might just be a fluke.”

He ducked lower, trying to move behind a stall selling vegetables. One of the market vendors shot him a strange look as he clumsily crouched behind the cart, but Anand just waved it off awkwardly and scribbled in his notebook.

“Looks like he’s helping out those farmers. Wonder if that’s a front. Not sure if he’s a ‘good guy’ or not, but something’s off. The way he talks—too polite, too reserved. Probably hiding something.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. How was he supposed to get any useful intel on Nathan like this? The Head Hand would be expecting results, but here he was, taking notes on Nathan’s clothing, his posture, his mannerisms. It was embarrassing.

But then again, even a failed spy mission could give the Head Hand something useful.

He scribbled another note, his eyes narrowed. “There’s more to this guy. I’ll figure it out. Just need to stay patient.”