What part could he be missing? What hidden variable? The equation, for any matter, was a simple one; one cart, one horse, seven casks full of Armora red apples, ten days worth of road to travel, and a pouch containing a hundred suns. Hasib thought of this as the wheels of the cart creaked on the snowy dirt path and the winds whispered strange things, yet he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the matter. Why had they been paid such a large sum, for such a simple task?

After the group had split up, he had gone to the food market. From stall to stall he searched and asked; at most a single Armora red apple was not worth more than five copper stars.

Hasib narrowed his green eyes as he studied the barrels, hoping to make out a clue that would give him the answer.

Each barrel could hold no more than three dozen apples, he observed. Which would mean they were transporting anywhere from two to three hundred apples; produce not even worth twenty golden suns. Even with the transportation fee, Hasib couldn’t understand how the merchant was making any profit. The Ursan certainly wasn’t doing any of this out of good will.

Were the apples perhaps a rarity in Clotera? Be that the case, it would still be impossible to sell them for more than four times their market value. No sane person would ever, no matter the rarity of the fruit, pay anything more than two silver moons. But even then the ursan merchant would have a hard time making any coin from the affair. What’s more was that they were to be paid another hundred suns at the delivery.

They had traveled for five days now, having passed the Splitwood Wilderness unscathed, and crossed into the territory of the Dhumikliom Kingdom.

The journey had been a quiet one other than Kirkley’s occasional complaints about the changing weather; “Why is it getting so cold?” And to that, Hasib could agree. The air was getting colder as they traveled further north. With every breath, he felt the creeping chill of winter in his lungs. Was it truly winter? Or were the lands of the Dhumikliom Kingdom simply as cold as they were rumored to be?

‘A cart, a horse, seven casks full of Armora red apples, ten days worth of road, and a pouch containing a hundred suns,’ Hasib frowned, deep in thought, ‘there must be reason in all of this, but where?’ Were the roads often raided by bandits? Would they be forced to pay a toll at the city gates? Whatever the case, the merchant had made it a deal not to tell them.

All these questions only clouded his mind further, Hasib felt as though he was blindly leading himself deeper through a dark cave, the exits of which he knew not of.

The tall human gave a loud sigh at his failure; he wasn’t going to guess anything anytime soon. Not without a sign.

“Are y-you alr-right?” Asked Fitz.

“Yes I’m fine, just something on my mind is all.” Hasib said, glancing over to the young swordsman sitting among the casks.

When the group had joined back up at Gavric's Emporium of Rare Wonders and Curiosities, the ursan merchant was waiting for them with Fitz and Jillian. Gavric didn’t look too pleased at first, thinking that the group had left with his coin, but he was quickly reassured by Jillian’s presence. He then announced that the young swordsman would accompany them on the road as a guide.

He appeared shy on the surface, but something in Fitz’s demeanor left a feeling of unease in Hasib. Something about the man gave Hasib the sense that he was keener than he let on to be.

A few days back, while they were on the road, Kirkley let out a loud scream as he woke up, startling the horse and the rest of the group. As Hasib shifted his gaze around, he saw that the young swordsman was on his feet, one hand on the handle of his sword. For a moment, he had sensed a change in the young man’s gaze; his eyes seemed tense and focused. Almost as if a startled predator was forced on the defensive. When Kirkley told the rest that he had had a bad dream, Fitz quickly fell into a more relaxed position and gained his usual self back.

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Ever since the beginning of their job, Hasib noticed that Fitz hardly left the presence of the casks. Strange.

The tall man allowed himself to shift his thoughts back to the dilemma at hand.

‘A cart, a horse, seven casks full of Armora red apples, ten days worth of road, and a pouch containing a hundred suns.’ He repeated in his head once more. Nothing.

Hasib wished his second in command Tariq was at his side right now; he’d know what to make of this. Tariq could always see the hidden side to things. Things that most men couldn’t. He had a certain understanding of the ways of people and their motivations. He was a smart man, and a valuable adviser to Hasib. And at many times, a close friend. But now he was lost, and so was the rest of his band of loyal allies.

When he thought of them, thoughts of his homeland occasionally sparked at the back of his mind. He missed it… at least parts of it. After all, Aarapletir was a land filled with death and sin. It was a place where friends would be forced to steal from one another, and where a person could expect to find a dagger stuck in their back by their own kin. How much could a person miss a place like that?

Some even called Aarepletir the “black desert”, for it was said that even the sun was too filled with grief to shine its rays upon the land. Because of this, the sands had a gray tint to them, and it would never get brighter than moonlight.

The residents of Aarapletir themselves had grown so accustomed to all the crime and chaos of their home, that they wouldn't even react to the freshly hanged corpses or the smell of rotting carcasses in the streets. These people could watch a man being eaten alive by a pack of rabid wolves, and you wouldn’t be able to find an ounce of sympathy in their eyes. Nothing. Just emptiness.

Their government had been responsible for leading his home to that state. Hasib could never forget that, not as long as he lived. Not even if his present had now been left in the past.

Hasib Al-Sajjad was different from the helpless people of Aarapletir. He had courage and hope. But most importantly, he was chosen by Azr’afir, the god of all gods, to lead the rebellion against the King of thieves. He would liberate Aarapletir from his reign, and bring prosperity and freedom to the land once more. Or so he had hoped. Time, however, had played a cruel trick on him, taking his band of warriors and friends away from him.

“It’s getting s-s-so cold.” muttered the little goblin, his arms wrapped tightly around his shivering body.

“That’s the one hundredth time you’ve said that, Kirkley.” Replied Jillian walking alongside the cart.

Fitz took off the cloak from around his neck and offered it to the goblin, “Y-you could have this, i-if you like.” Not a second later, it had disappeared from his hand. Kirkley wrapped it around himself, only his red bandana and mismatched eyes visible.

“Maybe we should stuff you in one of those casks. You’re so small we probably wouldn't see you if you were in there. ” Jack chuckled, sitting in the driver’s seat, Dhim’Faris attached to his back.

The goblin wiped off some snot on Fitz’s cloak, shivering. He then turned to the drakarian sitting beside him and held up a middle finger, “Fuck you, Jack.” Jack burst into laughter. Hasib allowed himself a smile.

Wait a second. ‘Stuffed in a cask.’ Hasib lingered on the words for a moment. ‘Stuffed in a cask.’ His surroundings seemed to darken as he concentrated on the words.

Then, it had all suddenly been made so clear to him. How could he not have seen it sooner; the exaggerated pay, the escort of Fitz. Fitz! ‘Azr’afir help me’, Hasib thought. Fitz had accompanied them so that they wouldn’t look inside the casks!

Everything made sense to Hasib at that moment, he knew now the reality of their job, as it wasn’t as it seemed at first, nor as it was discussed. The truth was they were smuggling something to Clotera!

And as Hasib was about to give a shout of warning to the others, in an instant, the winds grew violent. They were suddenly surrounded by heavy snowfall mixed with turbulent winds, its strength stinging their eyes, causing them to narrow. Hasib could hear the whinying of the horse, quickly looking forward he saw the cart disappear into the mist of snow. In a fit of chaos, he saw as all of his companions were taken away by the blizzard.

Jack and Kirkley were both on the cart, Fitz with them. As for Jillian, he had lost track of her quicker than he thought. She was alone and on foot. He had to find her, and quickly! She wouldn’t be safe in the blizzard alone, nor would he.

With all the force in his lungs, Hasib tried to call out to her. But a rumbling in the distance suppressed his shouts–a guttural roar that tore into the air.

As he turned himself in the direction of the sound, he swore he could see it; the faint shadowy shape of a towering, horned creature, in the distance. Unmoving, it stood there, almost as if the thing was watching him.