"...Have you heard? The Sultan's coming!"

"Really? Where?"

"Well..."

In the crowded bazaar, many men and women whispered to one another. Where even the children playing around began to exchange gossip. All about one person: The Sultan of Prosperity! Suddenly, in the midst of all the hushed murmurs, something akin to the clap of thunder was heard:

-Dum!-

"Look! The Rijal Altibal! They're coming this way!" Someone pointed.

-Dum! Dum!-

"A-And the Alraaqisat! They're here too!" Another passerby shouted

"That can only mean one thing—!!"

-Dum! Dum! Dum!-

"Lord Mehmed... has arrived!"

The whole bazaar was in an uproar; everyone turned to experience the grand spectacle before them, with even some praying in worship. The crowd cheered; all of them shouting one word in unison:

"Sultan! Sultan! Sultan!"

Over and over, the crowd repeated their chanting. All the while, a giant palanquin surrounded by drummers pass through. Slowly, the palanquin finally stopped in the middle of the bazaar. And under the excited gaze of the people, a tall, bearded man strode out.

"Wooooooh!!!" He was instantly greeted with the fervent screams of his people, their adoration almost palpable.

Grinning, the man held his hands aloft and began to wave. Eventually, he signalled for the crowd to stop, speaking only after everyone was silent:

"My people!" He looked around, eyes so comically bright it was blinding, "I have come here, the largest market in the desert, to announce something..."

He moved and talked with such grandeur, with such dignity and pride. Even the rowdiest of children were listening intently.

"Today... I decree, as Sultan of the whole Murukhali desert, of the entire Murukhalaiya Empire! The establishment of a new imperial bureau!! My people, I would like to ask: do you want to know about it?"

"""Yes!"""

He grinned, and after a deep breath, he began to speak, "Good! I, as the Sultan of prosperity, shall create the Bureau of Fortune! Where those who join will travel across the lands of Deusterra and spread the fortunes of our beautiful empire! Would you like that?"

"""Yes!"""

"I love your enthusiasm! From today onwards, any interested will be welcome to join! Any questions?" His magnificent voice rang out, leaving the women swooning and the men looking on with stars in their eyes.

Suddenly, a boy, barely ten, shouted out, "Lord Sultan! Where can we go to become one of these... one of these Fortune Tellers?" His words were followed with interested murmurs from the audience, clearly eager to know as well.

Mehmed grinned, "Great question, son! All interested must visit the Alqasr Althanii! There, you will be tested on your every fortitude, and by the end of it...," He crossed his arms, "...I hope everyone is successful in their endeavours!"

With that, he went back into his palanquin before the whole entourage travelled back to his palace...

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In the palace,

Sitting on his ornate throne, Mehmed was busy listening to his advisors and aides when an aide suddenly went up to him and whispered into his ears.

With a frown, he dismissed his advisors before leaving the room, accompanied only by the previous aide. As they were walking, Mehmed finally voiced his worries.

"Are you sure this information is accurate?"

"Y-Yes, my Sultan!"

"I see... you may go," Reaching an inconspicuous door, he dismissed the aide.

"Yessir!"

Only when his footsteps cease did Mehmed's attention return to the door, and after a sigh, he pushed it open.

-Creak!-

Inside the room was a plain wooden desk, a few chairs and a bunch of other miscellaneous items: jewellery, alcohol and the like. But what concerned Mehmed was the man sitting on that desk.

He was a very tall man, where even sitting down only made him a smidge shorter than Mehmed standing upright. Furthermore, his stickman like extremities and the long, neatly tied-up beard served to make him feel even longer...

"You wanted to see me, Al Makira?" Mehmed's gaze fixated on Makira's eyes as he talked, trying to pry any information he held. Sadly though, Makira gave nothing away when he replied.

"Yes, my Sultan. But I don't want to talk to you..." He smiled, "I would like to speak with the other you, please,"

"What do you me—!!!" Out of nowhere, Mehmed felt a splitting headache across his forehead. So painful it was, he had to pressure smush his head between his hands just to get some semblance of relief.

"You... what... did you... do!?" Unable to withstand the pain any longer, he eventually fell to the ground, barely conscious. As his eyes moved laboriously side to side, he heard Makira's buttery smooth voice.

"Nothing, my Sultan... this is out of my control, I'm afraid,"

"Urgh..." Mehmed could only spare the energy for one last glance at the smiling Makira before completely blacking out.

A short silence befell the room after he lost consciousness; there was no movement, no sound. It was as if time had stopped. Until...

-Twitch!-

In the corner of his eye, Makira saw Mehmed's body jerk ever so slightly; before becoming still again...

-Twitch!-

There it was again! Makira was sure of it and began to pay rapt attention to Mehmed— No, to his master...

"Hum..." Under the fanatic-like gaze of Makira, purple smoke began to gather around Mehmed's body. And after a few more minutes, a ghoulish, almost unreal sigh echoed throughout the room.

"Master! Oh, master! Is that you?!" Makira swiftly got up from his chair, instead choosing to kneel on the floor, lest his master gets annoyed.

"Hoo..." Hearing his master sigh, Makira finally worked up the courage to look up. It was Mehmed, yet different... completely different...

"Master Aite!" His voice quivered and quaked as he excitedly basked in the glory of his master! The man before him, so intimidating, so fierce! Yet so wise and cunning...

"Makira, how goes that plan?" Aite asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Yes! We've done as you command, and in a few weeks, we can reap what we've sowed!"

Aite looked thoughtful at his words. Putting his hand on his chin, he inquired on another subject.

"How goes the extermination of the final... loose end?"

This time though, Makira's answer was less than pleasing:

"I apologize, master... our first attempt has failed. B-But I assure you! We will send more immediately!"

"No... There is no need to send private assassins to do our dirty work. Let's wait until our first objective is completed, then let them finish him off,"

"B-But, wouldn't they be just as useless? They haven't had any trainin—" At first, Makira was against the idea. But after noticing his master glaring at him, he promptly shut up.

"Do you not trust your master?" He frantically shook his head.

"Good... I understand your worries, but you have nothing to worry about; I shall give them artefacts to supplement their lack of power, and one of my angels shall descend to train them personally,"

"I-I see... I thank you for this blessing, my lord!" Makira bowed once more, immense gratefulness plastered on his face.

"But this comes at a cost!" Makira flinched, "I only have this angel left. After this, it will take centuries for my legion to completely recharge. You must, at all costs, kill him! Understood?"

"Yes!"

"Mn... that's all. Now. I must rest. I hope you won't disappoint me... Makira,"

-Thud!-

Hearing the dull sound of something hitting the floor, he got up and placed the still unconscious Mehmed on a spare chair before walking out of the room. After a minute or so, Mehmed finally showed signs of waking...

"Urgh..." Mehmed was groggy when he came to. What had happened? When he tried to remember what had happened a few minutes ago, there was a giant hole in his memory.

'This happened for the fifth time this month...' He was worried and began muttering to himself, "Maybe I should ask my lord for help..."