So. Damn. Hot.

Crossing the Zinlyn desert, thus far, had proven difficult. Tycon had been traveling across the dunes for three days now. Slowly making his way to the ancient desert city of Meliora. He had little knowledge of the city's history. Only that it had been built thousands of years ago and subsequently destroyed and rebuilt from many wars since. Wars he had only heard about briefly during his youth.

The location was treacherous to reach, the desert, unforgiving. The red dunes looking like waves that stretched across the horizon. A relentlessly hot and dry sea that consumed a lost traveler almost as well as the ocean consumed shipwrecks. Like shipwrecks, there were bones of long-dead animals protruding from the sand. A subtle reminder of how dangerous the desert truly was to a lone wanderer. He knew he would be taking a huge risk just attempting to get to the ancient City. Luckily he had a guide to help him.

His guide, a dark-skinned human woman, rode a camel by his side. A headwrap obscured her deep chestnut hair, with only strands blowing in the slight breeze that accompanied them. Her Navy blue robes, like her hair, also fluttered in the wind. The colors had faded, presumably by the sun.

She was quite young, Tycon guessed she was in her late teens and she navigated the desert with confidence. He was impressed by it, knowing that simply learning the safest routes would have been risky in itself, let alone at her age.

Tycon had caught wind of a bounty by the border of the desert at a small outpost. This particular bounty took his interest because it wasn't for a person, but an artifact. He had never done a job like this before which is why it had piqued his interest. So much so, that he'd cross the desert to take it. This bounty, like the one in Selenicar was a multi-person job. Tycon had initially hesitated because of that but managed to convince himself, hoping it wouldn't go down quite the same. There he was, being naive again. The details were scarce on the bounty board, but he knew he would be briefed prior to beginning the job. Or so he hoped.

The city wasn't too far off from their location, so his guide had said, but she hadn't spoken in some time.

His coat hung tight to his body in the wind. He contemplated removing it but knew his pale elven skin would burn within thirty minutes. He kept good control of his hydration to mitigate the problem.

Every step felt like the sand was trying to suck him under, the uneasiness of it kept his mind from the heat, though it was never for long. The wind, too, was hot, not even the breeze cooled the two. The brushing of the blowing sand felt coarse as it collided with his exposed neck. Some of it seeped into his shirt, which he had to shake on occasion. He was looking forward to tipping the sand from his boots once he reached the city. His guide, however, didn't seem to mind. She had done this, probably hundreds of times before. It was likely as natural to her as crossing the vast plains in the heartland was to him.

"Here we are," a strong voice spoke as they were nearing the peak of a sand dune. 

Her voice took him aback, she hadn't spoken much the whole trip. Only her father spoke for her, prior to them leaving. He wondered if she were any different around people she knew well. It didn't seem likely he was to ever find out.

Tycon rushed ahead, a strong sense of excitement washed over him. Even though he had always been somewhere foreign, he hadn't been anywhere quite like this. He gazed down from the dune to see a surprisingly large city, walled by more dunes and built of sandstone. The sturdy buildings almost camouflaging with the surrounding desert.  It truly looked like an oasis among the dry and desolate lands he had come to know along the way.

"You should be fine from here," The woman said.

Tycon glanced to his left to see her standing right beside him, dismounted from her camel. He hadn't noticed her approach.

"Thank you, truly... Uh, what's your name?"

"Serina. My cousin, Antell lives here. You need passage back, go to him. For now, I take my leave. Be careful, Elf."

She turned silently, as was in her character and made her way back to the camel. Tycon watched after her until she mounted.

"You be careful too," Tycon called after her.

She didn't look back, only acknowledging his concern with a sarcastic wave. Tycon chuckled to himself and returned his gaze to the city below. The sun still hung high but was nearing the late stages of the afternoon, though the heat wasn't quite ready to let up. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he made his way to the nearby sandstone city gate that was manned by two men donned in what seemed like an odd style of armor. Tycon couldn't quite tell from a distance.

                                    *******************************************************************************

 Arriving at the gate, Tycon observed the guards more closely. Their armor was made from what appeared to be Iron and donned a foreign motif. Their pauldrons were curved, coming from the neck and down the shoulder, then curving up outward like a hook. Their helmets were not fully covered, their sweaty faces exposed. Instead of wearing chainmail, they wore a thick, white-faded, linen Gi and equally faded, baggy pants with the shins covered by iron plates.

One of the guards beckoned him as he approached, daring not to step from the shadow cast from the overhead gate. Tycon reached into his pack to remove a sheet of parchment that contained the details of the bounty. Knowing full well they'd ask.

The Guard's eyes widened then switched to a piercing gaze that sent a ripple of shock through Tycon.

"An Elf eh? State your business!"

His tone was harsh and unwaveringly hostile. The other guard simply stood, leaning on the gate-watching. Tycon chose to ignore it and presented the parchment to the disgruntled guard.

"I'm here on business for a bounty."

The hostile guard raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

Tycon nodded, "I'm looking for a man by the name of Zarek Jiralen," He paused a moment, waiting for a response. When he didn't get one, he continued, "The man who posted the bou-"

"We know who he is," The leaning guard replied before the angry one could, "He lives in the southern glass quarter. Straight down the main road, through the city center and to the other end then make a left. A straight line, really. You can figure it out."

Tycon nodded and slipped the parchment back into his pack and marched past the guard, brushing shoulders as he did. He felt their gazes follow him as he made his way down the street.

Stolen novel; please report.

What was their problem?

The city itself was what most would call exotic. Outlandish, wild, yet beautiful. Observing as he went, he noticed several pits with clay deposits with stalls of men, women, and children working pottery wheels. He could smell the hot coals of a nearby furnace as he slipped his way between people dotting the busy, sandy streets. 

The instructions he got were simple, yet he struggled to keep his direction through the crowds. The intense body heat from the people he passed, as well as the sun,  didn't help either. Once he reached the city center, he stopped and took a sip of his sheepskin canteen, letting the water sit in his mouth before he swallowed. While he stood, he noticed the glances his way. It wasn't necessarily something that would surprise him anywhere else as elves weren't very common in the continent of Sciolyn, but here, it felt like disdain more than curiosity.

Tycon went and sat by a wall next to an alleyway to rest. He sipped his canteen and observed the crowds, ignoring the menacing glances sent his way.

 "Hey you, Elf," A coarse voice suddenly shouted across the street. The voice came from a tanned older man. He looked to be in his mid-forties at the very least. His expression, one of disdain. Tycon stood up and watched as he approached.

"Your kind ain't welcome here," He said, approaching Tycon. He stopped a little too close for comfort and eyed him up and down.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not here for you," Tycon replied.

"Oh? A smartass?" He shoved Tycon into the wall.

"What's your problem?"

The man turned his head and spat, "No one would care if they found a dead Elf wasting away in a ditch," 

Tycon knew what that meant and reached for his daggers, but was stopped when an arm suddenly reached around the alley and dragged him in. Suddenly he was thrust backward, being dragged quickly by the collar of his coat, he grasped at the hand that held it.

"Hey, let me g-"

He heard the person hush, "Just follow me," then he was abruptly let go.

"Oi, get back here!" Tycon heard the tanned man shout.

Against his better judgment, he decided to follow the unknown person. From behind he only saw that they wore a sleeveless, beige coat. Their arms, tanned and muscular and their head covered by a hood. They were running now through a labyrinth of alleyways, kicking up sand with their steps. The adrenaline was pumping through him as he tried to keep up with them. They ran until eventually, they reached a small encampment of only one tent and a fire, by an equally small pond.

The figure stopped and remove their hood, revealing a man with braided jet-black hair. His eyes were a deep amber and he had a small scar on the left side of his bottom lip. The man sat in the sand by the fire with a sigh and caught his breath, Tycon followed suit.

"Who are you? And what was that guy's problem?" Tycon asked after he caught his breath.

"Zeke," He paused for a moment, "You're here for the bounty right? No other reason why an Elf would be all the way in Meliora... Elves aren't thought of kindly here. The scars of war still haven't healed, even after all these years."

Tycon nodded slowly and tried to forget the incident. They sat in silence for a moment. He gazed toward the pond adjacent to the campsite and watched a small boy and their father fish silently. Occasionally there was a burst of laughter or a swear that could be heard over the sounds of Cicadas and Dragonflies. For a moment, he thought of Balin and Evaline and a smile crept upon his chapped lips. He wondered how they were doing after eight months.

"How do you know about the bounty?" Tycon asked, not shifting his gaze from the pond.

Zeke chuckled, "It's commonly talked about here among the riffraff. We aren't the first people to take it on." Suddenly his voice turned grim, "Many have died."

He was surprised at the fact that so many had taken it on and perished, which concerned him. Though It was a lucky coincidence Zeke found him when he did, he didn't wish to be killed by some racist thug. It didn't matter how unlikely it was, every fight was a risk.

"So you're taking it on too?" Tycon asked, leaning back with his arms behind him, pretending not to be phased.

"Got a lot of questions huh? Yes, I'm here for the bounty too. You're here on good timing though. The contractor, Zarek. He's a collector of rare artifacts that has a monthly roundup of mercenaries and such to acquire something from a nearby tomb. All unsuccessful."

"You don't know what it is?"

Zeke shrugged "Nope, no idea. I've been here for a while, waiting for a good party to head on in with."

"Sounds risky, you could have lost the reward if they'd been successful."

"Patience is a virtue, my friend. You seem decent in a fight, I'm good at reading people like that."

Tycon snorted, "Quite a boast. What makes you think I'm any good in a fight?"

"I didn't save you from that guy. I saved him from you... Just got that look, very rugged and, shall I say, intimidating?"

"That guy didn't seem to think so."

"That's because he's an idiot."

Tycon laughed, "So it would seem."

                ****************************************************************************************************************

The sun began to set and the shadow of night slowly crept upon the city. Tycon and Zeke had chatted the whole time before he disappeared to the tavern.

Tycon lay alone by the fire, accompanied by the subtle sound of rippling water and the annoying chirps of Cicadas. Staring into the stars, lost in thought and watching the constellations. He spent a lot of time studying the stars on his lonesome. It brought tranquility to him between traveling and fighting. Always fascinated by the night sky and how infinite the void before him seemed. The stars and moon, looking like portals to the heavens. Sometimes he wished he'd meet someone who was astronomically fascinated with the stars like him. 

Someday.

He was concerned about taking on the job. Zeke seemed confident and Tycon was envious of that. The gnawing anxiety from the knowledge that so many had perished, persisted to invade his thoughts.

Without risk, there was no reward.

Despite telling himself that, the worry wasn't fleeting. Zeke had told him that he'd come at a good time. The monthly Merc roundup was only two days inbound. That in itself told him that the reward on the poster was real, not that he doubted it, and would be paid a hefty sum of five-thousand Uon's, should he survive what lies beyond the doors of the tomb. That was enough to convince him to come to Meliora and it was enough to convince him to stay after hearing what Zeke had to say.

The sound of footsteps and the swish of a bottle pulled Tycon from his thoughts and he sat up straight, looking into the darkness for the source. The sound grew louder and was almost on top of him when a silhouette peeked from behind the tent, just outside the light cast by the fire. It stood still for a moment and made a motion, hearing the swish of a bottle again in unison. Tycon began to reach for his daggers when the silhouette spoke in a familiar voice. One he had heard some time ago.

"Tycon? Is that you?" The shadow asked.

Tycon slowly nodded, his hand still outstretched toward his dagger, "Who are you?" He asked.

The shadow stepped into the firelight. It was a man with pale skin and was built sturdily. He wore a simple, brown sleeveless vest with black linen trousers. He was armored with leather bracers strapped to his wrists and a bandolier slung around his torso which had a shoulder pad. The man's face was familiar, with long black hair and a short beard. Tycon sat there trying to remember where he'd seen the man before, then it struck him.

It was Balin. He looked different from the last time he'd seen him. Still strongly built, yet the beard was shorter and his hair, a lot longer. Not only were his features significantly different but his expression, something more than met the eye. Something was wrong.

"Balin?" Tycon asked.

Balin took a swig of his bottle and stared back at him with an empty gaze, saying nothing. The two stared at one another, Tycon was in disbelief. Of all the places in Sciolyn, he never thought he'd find Balin here.

"Been a while huh. Ran into a guy in the tavern and he mentioned that an Elf had wandered here. Pointed me in this direction," He said, his words slurring. He stumbled but quickly regained his balance.

"Are you okay?"

He was answered with a grunt and a wave as Tycon rose in an attempt to help him to the ground. Balin sat by the fire with a sigh, his head hanging down in his lap while he rested his arms on his knees. He lazily swayed the bottle in his hand, listening to its contents move.

Tycon glanced into the darkness in search of Evaline but she was nowhere to be found. He figured perhaps she'd come following soon, so he waited a moment. When she didn't emerge, he began to worry. Looking back to Balin, he was still sitting with his head down. Tycon felt stupid for being so alarmed, but something didn't feel right. Balin's face, the moment he had emerged said it all. He was almost afraid to ask, though he tried anyway. He hesitated, only the first word of his question making it from his mouth.

"What?" Balin grunted, he raised his head and took a swig of his drink.

Tycon closed his eyes and blurted the question in a sudden rush.

"Balin, Wheres Evaline?"