As they wandered through the bustling bazaars of Laza-Farim, Malin's eyes danced across the vibrant stalls filled with spices, colorful fabrics, and intricately crafted jewelry. He marveled at the variety of foods sizzling on open grills, the scents wafting through the air and mingling with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares. It was all so new, so alive, a world he had only dreamed of back in his small shop in Bulsi-Jan. Yet, amidst the wonder, he couldn't ignore the looming weight of what lay ahead.
"Abel," Malin began, trying to keep his tone casual as they moved past a line of camels tethered near a spice merchant's stall, "why is this journey so dangerous? I mean, besides the heat and the distance."
Abel glanced at him, his expression unreadable as he considered the question. “Truth is,” he said, “I don’t fully know. But from what I’ve heard… there’s something out there beyond the Farim Mountains.” His voice grew lower, almost as if he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. “A dragon, or something like it. Rumors say it snatches away all who dare to cross its territory. Few who venture past those mountains ever return.”
Malin’s eyes widened, but he did his best to swallow down his nerves. He’d heard stories of dragons in legends, but to think one might be waiting for them… He shook it off, focusing instead on the immediate task. “And supplies?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ll need food and water if we’re going into a desert. Probably something to ride, too.”
Abel sighed, a hint of reluctance crossing his face. “Right. But I’m running low on coin. I’ve… let’s say, spent a lot recently.”
Malin reached into his pack and pulled out the small, finely crafted knife the Sultan had given him. The gleaming metal caught Abel’s eye, but it was the emblem—the crest of the Sultanate—engraved on the hilt that held his attention. Malin held it up with a grin, giving it a little flourish. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it sorted. With this, we’ll get all the supplies we need.”
For a moment, Abel was silent, his gaze fixed on the knife. His usual composed demeanor faltered, and a flicker of nostalgia and something deeper crossed his face. He stared at the Sultan’s emblem, his mind drifting back to a time long ago.
---
In the quiet halls of the palace, a seven-year-old Abel clambered onto his father’s lap, his small hands reaching eagerly toward the papers scattered across the grand desk. The room was filled with the smell of parchment and ink, and the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the large windows, casting a warm light on the Sultan’s desk.
His father, Sultan Amir Kalkan, looked down at him with a mixture of amusement and affection. Even back then, Amir was a powerful figure, his broad shoulders and stern features softened only when he looked upon his children. But at this moment, he was simply a father, allowing his young son to intrude upon his work.
“Can I try, Father?” young Abel asked, his eyes wide with curiosity as he reached for the intricate seal bearing the Sultan’s emblem. He had watched his father use it to sign important documents, and in his innocent eyes, it seemed like the mark of true power.
Sultan Amir chuckled, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. He carefully placed the seal in Abel’s tiny hands, guiding him as he pressed it onto a piece of parchment. The emblem left its mark, an impression of authority that Abel stared at with awe.
“One day,” Amir said softly, his hand resting on his son’s shoulder, “you will grow into a tremendous young man, Abel. You will carry this emblem, this responsibility. And when your sister is born, you’ll have to protect her and care for her, to keep our bloodline strong.”
Abel looked up at his father, a spark of pride igniting within him as he clutched the seal. “I will, Father. I’ll protect her, and I’ll make you proud.”
The Sultan nodded, his gaze filled with a love that was rarely shown in the throne room. In that moment, Abel felt that he truly belonged, that he was destined to be by his father’s side, to carry on the legacy of the Kalkan line.
---
Back in the present, Abel snapped out of his reverie, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled his gaze away from the knife in Malin’s hand. He cleared his throat, his expression hardening back into his usual mask of indifference.
“Right,” he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. “Let’s get the supplies we need and move on. We don’t have time to waste reminiscing.”
Malin noticed the flicker of something in Abel’s eyes, something he couldn’t quite place, but he decided not to press. Instead, he grinned, tucking the knife back into his belt. “You know, for a guy who acts tough, you’ve got a pretty soft spot for family, don’t you?”
Abel shot him a glare, though there was a hint of amusement hidden in it. “Don’t push your luck, Malin Osuninya.”
Malin chuckled, shrugging as they continued through the bustling bazaar. He’d gotten a glimpse of the man behind the arrogance, the one who had once believed in his family and his place in the kingdom. As they moved on, he felt a renewed determination in his own heart. This journey was about more than just a sword or a throne; it was about family, legacy, and redemption.
And together, they would face whatever lay beyond the Farim Mountains.
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Nahra sat in her room, feeling the weight of the decision she had made. She had done all she could within the bounds of her power to help Malin on his journey, but something nagged at her. If Aza, the Ames family, or even Bazzle harbored plans to take the throne from her father, she would need more than just influence—she would need strength. Real strength.
She stood up, crossing her room with quiet determination, and opened her wardrobe. Behind her dresses and royal attire lay a small arsenal of weapons. Each one reminded her of her training sessions, both with her father, the Sultan, and her guard, Maya. Swords, daggers, even a finely crafted bow were tucked away, out of sight. She knew how to wield them, but her skills alone wouldn’t be enough. She needed something greater—something powerful enough to protect her family and her kingdom if the situation demanded it.
But Nahra had not been blessed with magical ability. Unlike the legends who wielded enchanted weapons and powers passed down by divine beings, she was simply skilled and determined. That alone wouldn’t tip the scales if it came to a battle for the throne. If she wanted magical weapons, ones imbued with powers beyond her natural reach, she would have to go to the city’s underbelly—the black markets. They were the only place she could acquire such tools without revealing her royal identity.
The problem was, it was illegal for her to obtain magic weapons without formal approval, which as a woman, and more specifically as a princess, would never be granted to her. If she was caught, she risked not only scandal but also the wrath of the court. But then again, Malin was risking his life on a journey filled with perils she couldn’t even imagine. She had to be brave, if only to honor his courage.
Lost in thought, she was startled by a soft knock on the door. One of her maids entered, bowing politely before speaking. “Your Highness, Zara Osuninya, mother of Malin Osuninya, has come to see you.”
Nahra’s heart lifted slightly at the news. She hadn’t anticipated a visit from Malin’s mother, but perhaps this was just what she needed—a chance to reassure herself, to find strength in the words of the woman who had raised the man she loved. With a composed smile, she nodded and took a deep breath, mentally preparing to face Zara. She hoped to calm any fears or doubts Zara might have about Malin’s journey and, perhaps, gain some wisdom from the woman who had instilled such resilience in him.
Straightening her dress and brushing her hair back, she made her way to meet Zara, her mind filled with both the challenges she would soon face and the questions she hoped to ask.
Nahra sat across from Zara Osuninya, watching the older woman with a mixture of respect and warmth. Zara was a simple woman in appearance, but her eyes held a wisdom that only came from years of life and raising a son like Malin. She began speaking to Nahra with all the respect due to a princess, her tone formal and deferential.
“Your Highness,” Zara started, bowing her head slightly, “I came to thank you for everything you have done for my son. I know he’s in good hands with your blessing, and I… I trust that he’ll return safe because of it.”
Nahra felt a smile tug at her lips. She reached over, placing a gentle hand over Zara’s. “Please, Zara, don’t be so formal. Treat me like your daughter. I hope to be a part of your family someday, after all.” She gave a small, playful smile. “You know… assuming your son comes back in one piece, of course.”
Zara’s face softened, her eyes crinkling with warmth as she let out a chuckle. “Well, if he’s anything like his father, he’ll be just fine. Malin may look like his father, but he’s got his mother’s stubbornness.” She paused, a twinkle of pride in her eyes. “Although, I think he’s just as stubborn as you are, Princess. You two seem to be more alike than you might realize.”
Nahra laughed, nodding in agreement. “I’ve noticed. He’s got this… way about him, doesn’t he? So determined, so spirited, yet with this soft heart that makes him do things no one else would.” She looked down for a moment, a fond smile lingering. “And I think I have you to thank for that, Zara. You raised him well.”
The two women shared a moment of quiet laughter, a bond beginning to form between them through the shared love they each held for Malin. It felt easy, comfortable, almost like they were family already.
After a few more minutes of light banter about life in the palace and the many quirks of Malin, Nahra’s face grew more serious. She looked down at her hands for a moment, gathering her thoughts before lifting her gaze to meet Zara’s.
“Zara… there’s something I need help with. Something vitally important,” she said, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.
Zara’s expression shifted, her eyes narrowing with a hint of concern. “Of course, dear. Anything you need, just say the word.”
Nahra took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly. “I need to get stronger, to protect the kingdom, to protect Malin’s future. My father trained me well, and Maya has taught me much. But… without magical ability, I’m at a disadvantage. And in the palace, I have no access to enchanted weapons.” She paused, her fingers twisting slightly in her lap. “To find what I need, I’ll have to go to the black markets. It’s risky, and I’ll need someone I can trust.”
Zara listened carefully, her brows furrowing as she considered the gravity of what Nahra was saying. She placed a reassuring hand over Nahra’s. “You’re thinking like a true leader already, Nahra. But the black markets are dangerous, even more so for someone of your status. If you’re discovered…”
“I know the risks,” Nahra interrupted gently. “But I have to do this, Zara. If Aza or anyone else tries to challenge my father’s rule or Malin’s right to the throne, I want to be prepared. I don’t want to just stand by and watch things fall apart.”
Zara’s face softened as she gazed at Nahra, a look of pride mixed with worry in her eyes. “You’re brave, just like him,” she said, a faint smile forming. “Malin, that is. He’d do anything to protect those he loves. I see that same fire in you, dear.”
Nahra nodded, a slight smile of gratitude appearing on her face. “Thank you, Zara. I know this is asking a lot, but… will you help me? I need someone who can guide me through this. I don’t know who else I can trust.”
Zara took a deep breath, her gaze thoughtful as she weighed Nahra’s words. After a moment, she nodded. “If this is what you truly want, I’ll help you, Nahra. But we’ll need to be careful—very careful. I know some people in the city who might be able to connect us to someone discreet. Someone who won’t ask questions.”
Relief washed over Nahra’s face as she squeezed Zara’s hand. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your support.”
Zara gave her a warm smile, a motherly glint in her eyes. “You’ve already done so much, Nahra. And if you’re going to be my daughter-in-law, then protecting you, guiding you—it’s my duty too.”
They shared a quiet moment, the connection between them growing stronger with every word. Nahra felt the weight of her mission lessening slightly, knowing she wouldn’t be facing it alone. With Zara by her side, she could face the risks that lay ahead, prepared to become the woman her kingdom and Malin needed her to be.