Xol’sa’s tower was strewn with what could only be described as junk. Since he arrived in Broken Tusk, bringing all his belongings, he’d only accumulated more. Every available shelf was full of devices, items, or trash. The wizard himself sat across from Theo, Zarali, and Tresk, taking part in the ongoing conversation. A magical fire crackled in the room's corner, but it put off a pleasantly chilly wind instead of a hot one.

Theo swirled his mug of wine. It was whatever Xol’sa enjoyed drinking, and he enjoyed drinking it a lot. One of the center sections of the tower was now dedicated to casks of the stuff. Where he got it, the alchemist couldn’t say. But it was good. Slightly more sweet than he liked, but a pleasant change of pace.

“If we’re talking about powerful Khahari, An’tal doesn’t show up in the history books,” Zarali said. “The An family is old enough to appear, though. I don’t see a record of Tal, though.”

“My magic is useless,” Xol’sa said, shrugging. The Elf looked more dejected than normal.

The group had retreated to the tower for dinner. The day of laboring saw more progress than the day before. Alise said they’d be done before the original estimate, and Ziz took that as a challenge. Theo lent him the [Tunneling Potions] so he and his laborers could do some night working. The alchemist wouldn’t object, as An’tal rested heavily on his mind.

“The Khahari are a strange people,” Zarali said, taking a long drink of her wine. “They follow a mortal named Khahar. Hence the name. But they’ve had hundreds of notable heroes in their history. Strange thing, they all have one thing in common. They rarely leave the desert.”

“Why did you specify that Khahar is a mortal?” Tresk asked, leaning in. “That’s suspicious wording.”

“Because he’s a mortal, by definition,” Zarali said, throwing her hands up. “By all accounts he was here when the planet was formed. Lived through every age, and never left his desert. But that’s our hint. He’s raised many high-level warriors. This might just be his wayward son.”

Theo nodded. The best way to figure this out would be to just talk to the man, but if he wasn’t causing any trouble it was hard to justify.

“That just leaves Zan’kir and Zan’sal,” Theo said. “Why are they acting weird?”

“The Khahari worship their heroes,” Zarali said, dismissing his thought. “They might recognize this man from their tales.”

Theo could live with having a legendary Khahari hero in his town. He didn’t think An’tal would stay for long, but he didn’t care either way. He toiled hard in those mud pits, and was currently enjoying the bathhouse. The group gathered within Xol’sa’s tower was left with no answers. They threw ideas at the wall, but nothing stuck. Tresk steered the conversation back to pleasant topics after a while, and the group just enjoyed the company. The tower was ‌cozy, even with the occasional blast from the defensive wards outside. Firefly-like bugs floated by the window occasionally, adding to the ambience.

“We should come here more often,” Theo said.

“Agreed,” Zarali said, making eyes at Xol’sa.

“I’d rather you not,” Xol’sa said.

“Well, there’s no problem to solve here,” Theo said, rising from his chair. “I’ll talk to Zan’kir when I can, but it doesn’t seem like it's an issue.”

Everyone said their farewells. Xol’sa activated his portal again, giving Tresk and Theo a ride back to town. Night had fallen, and while the alchemist’s stamina was low from a day of work outside of his lab, it wasn’t empty. They stepped through the portal and onto the hard cobbles of an empty street. A pale orange moon rose over the northern sky.

“What’s that?” Theo asked, pointing at the moon.

“The moon,” Tresk said, scoffing. “Come on.”

“Antalis,” a voice came from behind. Tresk jumped. “That’s what my people call it. Dark most days.”

Theo turned, unsurprised to find An’tal standing there.

“In the low tongue, the bastard of Qoharin, Qavelli, they call it Aitilis,” An’tal said, a gentle smile on his face. The orange light cast his sandy fur in a striking light. He had a proud face with a wide muzzle that seemed regal. “The crawling adventurer. The midnight sun, the barrier world… Ah. Good evening.”

“Hey,” Tresk said, waving. “So, are you some Khahari hero?”

An’tal looked surprised at Tresk’s directness, but his expression faded slowly back to a soft amusement. “I wouldn’t say that.”

That was all he said without further prodding. He put off an air that felt strangely familiar to Theo. Perhaps this was a Khahari that Belgar knew.

“What are you doing here, An’tal?” Theo asked. There was no better time to ask the question.

“Searching,” An’tal said, his voice drifting off. His eyes locked onto the moon.

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” Theo asked.

“I think so,” An’tal said.

The hair on the back of Theo’s neck stood up. He felt a sense as if they were being watched. The alchemist scanned the road, finding the source of the issue. A pair of ears stuck out from behind the adventurer’s guild. A Khahari. Likely Zan’kir or Zan’sal. Whatever connection they had with this man ran deep. An’tal turned his head in a slow, fluid motion to meet the gaze of the interloper. His eyes narrowed.

“Begone,” An’tal whispered. And the offending Khahari was gone. He turned to Theo and smiled before continuing at full volume, “are we meant to work tomorrow?”

“If you’re up for it,” Theo said. “The laborers enjoyed having someone of your prowess down in the pit.”

“They’re still working,” An’tal said, eyes drifting back to the moon. “They paid for my bath.”

“Broken Tusk is legendary for its charity,” Tresk said, nodding.

“The legendary Theo Spencer,” An’tal said. It was as though he refused to look at them. “And his legendary town. Goodnight.”

Then the strange Khahari was off, up the street and toward the inn. Tresk and Theo stood there for a long time, both trying to figure out what just happened. The Marshling slapped him on the back to break the silence.

“I like him,” Tresk said, turning and leaving without another word.

After thwarting Tresk’s attempt to kill him in the Dreamwalk, Theo summoned a likeness of An’tal from his memory. He studied the figure for a long time, standing and cupping his chin in his hand. He scratched his head in frustration, finding the features of the Khahari too familiar to dismiss. An’tal’s coat was like the Khahari he’d already seen, a mottled sand pattern, but his build was too familiar. There was something in the way a person walked that could give them away, but nothing came to mind. Like the void An’tal made for his intuition. This felt like a piece of his memory was cut out and abandoned.

While he couldn’t shake the strange feeling, Theo moved on for the night. He ordered the image of An’tal to accompany him on his experiments. Last night there wasn’t much new to discover, and tonight was worse. The alchemist did the same few reactions he’d done many times before, committing more of the heating processes to memory. He found a few better ways to run the stills, but no more progress could be made until he passed into the level 20 range. That’s when things would get interesting, owing to the power of the [Reagent Deconstruction] skill he skipped.

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Boredom took over, and Theo went to train with Tresk. He had no plans to fight anything in the real world, but it paid to stay sharp. She insisted he find a weapon that worked for him, but nothing felt right. Spears were too unwieldy, axes were rough, and daggers just felt too small. He simply fought her with his fists, almost keeping up pace with the rapid tempo of her combat. Between sparring sessions, they shared their thoughts on the way things were going.

“We still need boats!” Tresk shouted.

“We need a place to build them.”

They trained until the morning came and they found themselves back in their beds. After setting his stills to brew more [Living River Water], Theo intended to go get a bite to eat, then lead the laborers back into those muddy pits. A knock at the door downstairs and Tresk vanished from where she stood in the lab.

It’s Zan’sal, Tresk said. She looks nervous.

Theo descended to the first floor, opening the door to find the Khahari woman biting her nails. The alchemist let her in and led her upstairs. Without prompting, he put a pot of [Moss Nettle] tea on a [Flame Artifice] and set it to boil. He gestured for her to take a seat, and she did.

“You can’t trust him,” she said after a long silence.

“Duh!” Tresk shouted, bursting from the shadows. “We know he ain’t An’tal. We just can’t figure out his real name.”

Theo held his hand up, silencing the excited Marshling. “Why can’t we trust him?”

“Zan’kir called him,” she said, looking out the window. “Not that it matters. He can hear us.”

“The walls are pretty thick, lady,” Tresk said.

Theo knew what Zan’sal meant, but Tresk was wrong. An’tal wouldn’t be able to hear them because of the power of the Tara’hek. If the man wanted to use otherworldly means of eavesdropping on their conversation, he’d have to pierce into their private realm. From what he understood, that was difficult. It was like crossing from the Demonic Pantheon to the Prime Pantheon. A feat worthy of a god.

“So, who is he?” Tresk asked.

“I can’t say,” Zan’sal said. “He’ll know I gave him up.”

“So, write it down,” Tresk said, scoffing. “Come on! Spill the beans!”

Theo held his hand up to silence her again. “You can’t tell us who he is. Tell us why he’s here.”

Zan’sal took a steadying breath. “It’s almost impossible to communicate with those in the Khahari desert. The power there makes long-range communication crystals impossible. When we migrated from the north, we received word. He was looking for somebody.”

“For Theo Spencer,” Theo said, shrugging. It was obvious. “The question is why?”

“I don’t know,” Zan’sal said. “I swear I don’t know—and I didn’t send word. That was my husband. He reported we found you. It was just difficult to find the materials to do so.”

“Alright,” Theo said, letting out a breath. He really hated all this skullduggery. “So, this guy is powerful?”

“Extremely.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Theo said. “Anyone who can kill me but doesn’t isn’t a threat.”

Zan’sal’s mouth dropped open. She looked from Tresk to Theo, searching for more information. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tresk said. “You can’t tell us cause you’re haunted or whatever, and he was looking for Theo. Well, he found Theo. And he ain’t dead.”

Zan’sal stammered, but no words formed.

“We can talk with Zan’kir‌,” Theo said. “My intuition doesn’t give me a read on An’tal, but he’s doing good work. Maybe he wants a vacation. Did you ever think of that? Broken Tusk is charming in a lot of ways, and people can feel a deep sense of community here.”

Zan’sal tapped her foot, biting at her claws.

“Look, my people are on it,” Theo said. “Just relax. Go run some dungeons. Get it out of your system.”

Zan’sal stood up and left the lab without another word. Her worry hung in the air like a miasma.

“She’s wound tight,” Tresk said.

Theo nodded.

They departed the Newt and Demon and headed for breakfast. An’tal was there, along with all the other workers. The Khahari seemed eager to get back in the mud pits, but held a wide smile on his face.

“Wait until you see what your workers did last night,” he said. “They’re exhausted, though.”

Ziz and his gang all had their heads pressed to the surface of the table. Theo recognized the symptoms of [Stamina Potion] use.

Alise clapped her hands at the entrance to the tavern, gaining everyone’s attention. She looked equal parts annoyed and impressed.

“Despite my warnings, someone worked late into the night,” Alise said. “Ziz! I’m looking at you! Wake up!”

Ziz didn’t wake up.

“Someone dump something cold on them,” Alise said, letting out an annoyed breath.

An’tal took up the task with excitement, emptying a mug of water over the Half-Ogre’s head.

“I’m awake!” Ziz shouted, throwing punches at the air. An’tal smiled.

Alise detailed how much work Ziz’s crew did. The narrow section of the harbor’s approach was nearly half finished, which seemed like an absurd amount. Theo didn’t want to believe it until they all marched down to the river. The massive hole had filled up overnight, but it stretched far into the distance. It followed the general path of the river, but cut a straight line instead of a snaking trail. Tresk whistled.

“Dang,” Tresk said. “We’re going to be done soon if we keep this up.”

“But you can’t keep this up,” Alise said, stomping her foot. Theo had never seen her this angry, but she calmed herself down after a moment. “The new guy is in charge of the pits, now.”

“Me?” An’tal asked.

“Yes, you. Any other new guys around here?” Alise asked. Another steady breath and her face stopped being so red. “Let’s get to work.”

Alise directed them more closely today. She enjoyed having this much control, and Theo didn’t blame her. The current harbor was looking amazing, with the wider section near the town looking as though it were ready for ships. The area of that wide harbor area was almost half the size of Broken Tusk. They’d be able to fit a lot of boats in there.

An’tal seemed excited to be in charge of the stonework. Theo didn’t know if he had a core for the work, but he worked in the same way Ziz did. He welded stones together with more precision than the other stonemasons, showing significantly more strength for lifting the heavy marble stones.

“Do you have a [Stonemason’s Core]?” Theo asked, shouting down into the pit.

Some of the rough edges of An’tal had rubbed off. He seemed more excited than yesterday to do the work and he looked up with a wide grin. “I have a legendary [Stonemason’s Core]! [Khahari Stoneweaver].”

That made sense to Theo. If anything, An’tal was holding back. The power that came from each of his stone-welding actions was like the scouring winds of the desert, all rolled into a single technique. He left little designs in the magical mortar, images too small for the alchemist to spot from the top of the pit. It was amazing to watch him work.

Halfway through the day’s session of digging, pumping water, and laying stone, Theo spotted Zan’kir from the eastern gate. He beckoned the alchemist over, waving until he got his attention. Theo splashed the last of his potion for the day on the ground, etching out another stretch of the approach. Alise glowered at him as he left.

“What’s up?” Theo asked, shouting from the outside of the eastern gate.

Zan’kir scowled. “I’d rather have this conversation in private.”

“So, come down.”

Zan’kir crossed his arms. “No.”

Theo shrugged, entering the town and ascending the battlements. Zan’kir was waiting for him, concern on his face.

“Zan’sal told you what I did,” he said. “If you want to expel me from the town, that’s your decision.”

“Alright,” Theo said, holding his hands up. “You guys summon some master [Stonemason] from somewhere, and he comes in and helps me build my harbor. Why am I going to be mad?”

“He is many things,” Zan’kir said. Theo noticed he refused to look in the harbor's direction. “Not just a [Stonemason].”

“Then stop being weird,” Theo said. “Tell me who he is and why I should care.”

“I’ve sworn an oath,” Zan’kir said.

“To protect An’tal, the greatest [Stonemason] alive?” Theo asked.

“Not to protect him. To protect you,” Zan’kir said.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Tresk said, coming from the shadow of the wall. “Spill the dang beans.”

Zan’kir narrowed his eyes. “Master of the Sands. Destroyer of Hamtal’Tan. Fate of the Khahari.”

It was a long list of titles that meant nothing to Theo. He’d been meaning to learn more about this world’s history, and important historical figures, but even Tresk didn’t get it. The Marshling tapped her foot impatiently, throwing her hands up. Both Zan’kir and Zan’sal were being too defensive about this Khahari’s identity, and it was wearing on the alchemist’s patience. He didn’t care who it was at this point. He just wanted to know.

Zan’kir took in a lungful of air and closed his eyes. “An is the first surname given to the Khahari. Given by our progenitor. At the forging of the world and the scouring of the desert. The man who gave that name is…”

He trailed off without completing the thought.

“The Khahari who gave us the name was…” Zan’kir said. He just couldn’t get the words out. Theo finally recognized some kind of oath binding the man from speaking, but he was over the game. There were enough pieces of the puzzle in front of him.

“Hey!” Theo shouted over the open field between the wall and the river. “Khahar! Get your butt up here!”

The master [Stonemason] laboring on Theo’s harbor moved. An’tal was standing at the edge of the pit, then he was standing on the wall. Zan’kir dropped to the floor, pressing his forehead against the ground and shuddered. His breaths were ragged gasps, interspersed with inane muttering.

“Yes?” Khahar, a man as old as the planet and leader of the Khahari, asked.