The sultan’s sudden appearance and immediate takeover of the proceedings stifled any objections someone might have as not even the delegations or their champions dared to question the rather strange happening near the end.

Just a few minutes later, the entire crowd cheered for their sultan and their Lord Executor, even more so when a steady stream of soldiers began to fill the arena, forming ranks that faced both Sultan Zimraan and Lord Executor Arakiel, who also noticed some of the spectators leaving, only to reappear moments later as part of the Smokeless Host that assembled down there in the arena floor.

He could already see the regiments, their companies and even the banners in the way the soldiers marched onto the stage and if the sultan’s or his children’s intention had been for this to act as a means to impress and awe, then they had succeeded in Arakiel’s opinion.

The clanking sound of metal, the noise of so many boots marching onto the sand, the shine of their leather, their polished armor and even just the sheer number of differently armored men – it was quite a sight to behold.

Aurora gasped audibly at so many people forming lines, their gear and equipment attributing the one to the many others that were similar – and she wasn’t the only one.

It might just be the biggest gathering of armed soldiers this side of the plane had seen and even Arakiel did feel quite impressed, perhaps even awed.

Even the mage corps showed up for the parade, their gear consisting of one-handed swords, wands and most commonly, staves. They kept their armor light or in some cases nonexistent as casting spells was a very straining exercise – the less one wore the better.

Funnily enough, he could already tell from up here who the two water mages were, for a pair of slim, veiled women clad in light blue and turquoise headed all the way to the front, joining an older man with a sizable black beard that had entered as one of the first. He wore a grey turban, a long grey robe and a surprisingly ornate staff of silver with a translucent silver ball atop.

Arakiel couldn’t make out his expression from up here, but that man seemed not only like a competent mage, but like some kind of leader, for he spearheaded the mage corps.

Once the army of the Smokeless Host had assembled in full, Akili and Aisha headed over towards Arakiel who had already gotten up alongside Aurora. He lightly squeezed her hand as a means to calm down, but the slightly squelching sound only served to remind him that he was drenched in sweat from head to toe, not that he needed another reminder.

From all the way down below, a proud male voice resounded, shouting. “Lord Djinn, Lord Executor! Your army stands at the ready!”

It caused the spectators of the arena to cease their quiet talks and murmurs; instead, their eyes began to rest on him or the Sultan who had likely revealed himself slightly above and behind him. Arakiel hadn’t turned around as that’d be disrespectful.

When Sultan Zimraan did not respond and most eyes definitely moved to him, Arakiel slightly cleared his throat and began to descend the last few ranks alongside his seraphim in order to be as close to the ground level as he could be as a spectator.

Down there, nearly a thousand eyes looked up to him while from around, nearly double that size did. It caused some sort of invisible pressure that threatened to cut off his voice as he under no circumstances wanted to embarrass himself.

When had he become so vain, he managed to wonder only briefly.

Right after he arrived, Arakiel put his free hand onto the marble railing and cleared his throat once again, yet it felt as though he couldn’t speak.

At least the sun had ensured that he could wave off the flushing of his cheeks as a sunburn or heat in general.

Nonetheless, his panic grew.

His mind had formed some introductory words, but his body refused to cooperate and he began to grow anxious.

“Shh, it’s all good, my love,” Aurora suddenly whispered from the side, squeezing his hand just a little tighter. And then she tiptoed and kissed him on his cheek. The veil in front of her face was so thin that he still felt her warm lips, causing him to turn sideways with confusion.

The scarlet only brought out the gold even better and somehow, seeing her clear, shining eyes encouraged him, for it was most certainly the intention she wished to covey.

He cleared his throat once more and let out a single cough, after which he lightly shook his body before straightening his chest. Then, he raised his voice and this time, it obeyed, coming out in a calm yet authoritative tone, one undoubtedly supported by his appearance.

Arakiel was, after all, still wearing Aurora’s aspect.

“Soldiers of the Smokeless Host! Citizens of al-Aliriq!” He yelled as his introduction and from then on, he just went with whatever he came up with, for no one had informed him about delivering a speech.

“Sultan Zimraan, your Lord Djinn, has made the call and you answered it! Too long have you, the Holy Transcended’s Chosen people suffered from the Middle Kingdom’s mockery! For too long have you put up with derision, scorn and downright hostility!

He paused briefly and let his gaze wander across the assembled crowd.

Feeling pleased with the initial result, he went on to ask loudly, almost accusingly. “To whom does this Middle noble owe her silken dress!?” He then bellowed, slightly stepping to the side to present Nyanna who had been forced to put on her Middle countess’s get-up again. She flinched, but did not break her subdued posture.

Sounds of mock, of ridicule and even a few whistles returned almost right away.

“To you!” Arakiel answered the rhetorical question and went on. “To whom did she owe the spices she used to season her meals, the fine jewelry she wore!? To you fine craftsmen!”

Applause and affirming nods followed.

“You generously offered to trade the many exotic wares that you acquired through diligence and shrewdness, yet how did the Middles repay you!?”

Another brief pause. He raised his voice even further. “With derision they paid you! With scorn they paid you! Sometimes even with currency – but what good is a coin of gold out here in the desert if you cannot buy food with it!”

Louder applause, many affirmations. The crowd followed his line of reasoning.

“The Middles repaid your generosity with the attempt to starve you, to kill you!” Arakiel cried out further. “Anyone who has been to a Middle town will know that they have food aplenty, so abundant that they throw it away at the slightest signs of spoilage! How does that make you feel, you industrious worker who has to eat thin gruel from half-rotten crop!?”

Parts of the crowd answered with anger, others with scorn and most with injustice.

“And it should!” Arakiel pointed out, going for the crux of the matter. “While the Middles can freely procreate and anyone who has been to one of their towns can confirm you that they do so without restraint, you fine people might face an existential crisis because you longed for your spouse’s embrace!”

This time, he heard many of the al-Aliriqean women protest as well.

“I say no more! And so does the Lord Djinn!” Arakiel concluded, gesturing heavily under the cheers of thousands. “Your ruler has long since heard your pleas and wants! As the first to accept the Holy Transcended’s gifts, it is only right that I, a divine envoy from beyond the Boundary, have been chosen to guide your justified anger towards a simple, noble and just goal!”

“Do you remember how I brought you the plunder of Boundary? Food, gear and fair flesh aplenty!!”

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He made a dismissive gesture and roared. “The time for mere raids is over, o Holy Transcended’s chosen people! They tried to poison your wells and spoil your crop. I daresay it’s time we showed them a lesson! The Holy Transcended decreed that the strong may seize whatever they may covet and I ask you – are you strong!?”

Several hundreds of loud and emotional affirmations resounded, not only by the spectators, but also by the warriors down below.

“Then it is time to seize what you covet!” Arakiel shouted nearly at the top of his lungs, riling up the listeners to the utmost while throwing up his right fist into the air. “Hail the God-in-Gold!”

His hail was answered so many times it turned into a chant of the spectators while the soldiers down below began to bang their weapons against their shields if they had some.

The sight, the sounds, the atmosphere… it nearly overwhelmed him as he kept raising his fist to the beat and at some point, he heard his seraphim’s whisper in his left ear.

“Feel how they adore you, adore the message you brought them? Be proud, my conqueror – for you did this.”

And proud he felt, so very proud. It caused his chest to swell and his confidence to boost to unreasonable heights.

This time, he would not fail. He was older, wiser and most importantly, he was not alone.

And judging by the way the crowd and the soldiers cheered, they affirmed, agreed.

It was nearly evening by the time Arakiel, Aurora and Nyanna returned to the Djinnum Palace and only there did he learn of Ezekiel having collapsed after his battle, after which he was brought here to recuperate. Selene and Mellia had went ahead as the ceremony had taken quite a bit longer after his speech and according to them, it was just an aftereffect of the powder he had consumed earlier.

The jinnum siblings visited later on, informing them that the Smokeless Host would head out tomorrow morning, after which they were invited to a small private celebration that the two had thrown together in order to deepen their ties.

He, Aurora and Mellia accepted while Selene remained behind to take care of Ezekiel, which she did with a surprisingly gentle, caring side that - again – Arakiel hadn’t thought her capable of.

Akili and Aisha then led them into a small area deeper inside the Jinnum Palace, where they had a rather memorable feast with excellent food, full-bodied drinks, soothing music and some dancing until a little later, one of the veiled handmaidens of Sultan Zimraan performed a solo ‘dance of the thirteen veils’ which had her start out with thirteen veils that she ended up stripping over the course of a performance that lasted just over an hour.

It might’ve been the single most erotic dance or maybe even piece of art in general that Arakiel had ever witnessed, but when the pair of jinnum invited their guests to a recreational ‘snuggle with a tussle’ in the sheets, Mellia ran out of the room with a head as red as a beet while Aurora and Arakiel declined.

In the end, the two retreated alongside the dancer and one of the male servants, leaving Aurora and Arakiel all alone and excited, perhaps even bothered by the performance.

Feeling particularly daring, his veiled seraphim proposed to do it here in the guest room as it was already late at night and surely no one would come to check on them and while Arakiel agreed internally, he decided to trick his seraphim on an intoxicated whim.

He lured her in on a false pretense and then jumped Aurora with some of the veils that the dancer had cast off earlier. Arakiel exploited the sensitivity of Aurora’s wings in full, making it exceptionally easy to gag her mouth and bind her arms. He then pulled his bound little seraphim close and began to intimately touch and kiss her all over without ever giving her a chance to reciprocate his caresses.

The thin gossamer of her scarlet dress only made it better and it didn’t take long to fully tame the lively immortal in his embrace, turning her into the most delectable snack yet, one he took his sweet time in enjoying bit by bit.

On the next morning, Arakiel felt thoroughly emboldened and refreshed, easily carrying his lovably meek Aurora onto a suitable spot on the Djinnum Palace’s rooftops where she caught the dawn’s light for him. He took the shard and the two enjoyed the sunrise for a little more before it was time to head out.

He alone met Ezekiel after returning and the amethyst-eyed man seemed rather distraught and when Arakiel congratulated him for his performance, the slaver waved him off, saying that Arakiel could keep his mockery.

When asked to elaborate, the other Mortal Ascendant didn’t do so, but only curtly mentioned that he had not won either fight. Someone had interfered, although he hadn’t seen how, only that it must’ve happened. Ezekiel couldn’t decide what was worse, to have lost to these people or to have taken the credit for someone else’s expense. Even more intolerable, he didn’t know how, only that it most likely connected to Sultan Zimraan, which was certainly possible. Arakiel had no illusions about beating the sultan in a contest. It was highly possible that he had somehow managed to reach level 8 or perhaps even 9 despite this plane being capped on levels.

No matter what angle Arakiel chose, his friend and partner-in-crime waved him off, claiming he needed some time to ponder on several issues. He knew that it had been Ezekiel’s first defeat after becoming a Mortal Ascendant so it probably stung even more than it should. Then again, most planeswalkers never got the chance to lose properly, because it was usually over them after doing so once.

So maybe, this was for the best, because no matter what had happened to them, they needed to realize that they were still very weak, despite having bested some stronger foes, but it had been on conditions.

They had ambushed Count Filann and had fought a drunken, unarmored Count Eremon. Respectable marks, sure – but really only slightly above the bottom of the barrel.

Ezekiel and Arakiel were improving, however. Arakiel was certain that just two months ago, Ezekiel would not have been able to withstand the two jinnum for as long as he did.

And more importantly, he felt as though he grew in power day by day. Every challenge, no matter how small, would see them grow. This was the last advice he could give Ezekiel before the man told him to keep his wisecracking to himself, after which he left in search of Selene.

Arakiel then went to fetch Mellia and was surprised to find out that his little sister had not only coordinated the servants to prepare everything for their departure, but she also handed him a thin, small stick of sticky something that looked like thin piece of chocolate on a stick, claiming it was a gift for his diligent behavior over the past weeks.

Feeling overcome with emotion, he gave her a long hug which he finished with a little kiss on her cheek. It earned him a glare that he soothed by offering her half of the rather tasty sweet she had just gifted him.

Mellia straight up called him a scoundrel which made him laugh a little, yet she still accepted his invitation for one final brief walk across the courtyard as he had sometimes done in order to speak with her. His little sister did not talk a lot, instead preferring to observe and listen – and it was the same today.

Today, he felt like talking about Marianka of all things even if he didn’t know why and he briefly reminisced about some of the times when his first aurea had been in Mellia’s age, where she had become bold and ever-so-caring despite him being a rather arrogant man that had been utterly full of himself.

Unlike with Aurora, he felt as though he could talk about anything with Mellia and no matter what he said, she didn’t judge him too harshly, although judge him she did. In this case, she pointed out that him still dwelling on his aurea meant that he hadn’t overcome her death, which was most likely true.

For all her efforts, Aurora would never be able to replace Marianka in his mind. On the flipside, Marianka could’ve never become Aurora, so it was fine.

He loved Aurora, loved her as his immortal aurea, but he also couldn’t forget all the great memories he had with the girl that grew up alongside him and he’d be lying through his teeth if he claimed that he didn’t miss her.

And although he had not yet fully made peace with it, he felt as though he could in time – and it would be through Aurora’s help… but not by replacement.

Time marched on ever onward, just as it did when he wallowed a bit further in memories, only for his seraphim to approach them, saying that everything was ready.

Mellia thanked him for being so open, and the three of them went to fetch their servants. There, they found a veiled woman that offered to buy the daughters of Count Eremon and Countess Muirne for a rather tidy sum of coin, yet Arakiel didn’t even need to think about the reply.

He couldn’t speak for Ezekiel, which he told the woman, but he certainly wouldn’t sell Nyanna now that he had gotten a taste for it.

The jinnum woman – at least the woman that had danced for them yesterday had been a jinnum – accepted his refusal and then escorted them out of the palace.

He’d miss the building’s atmosphere for sure, but he wasn’t here for a vacation.

Outside the palace’s parameter, the planeswalkers met their missing party members who were discussing something with the jinnum siblings Akili and Aisha. They paused as soon as they noticed that Arakiel approached and although he hadn’t heard any specifics, he was fairly certain that Ezekiel had inquired about the mysterious ‘helper’ of his duels. Given the way he was grimacing, he likely hadn’t found an acceptable answer yet.

The jinnum greeted them, commenting them for their good looks while throwing meaningful glances towards Aurora and Arakiel. Aurora looked away sheepishly while he gave her a little pat on the head, smiling.

She wore the clothes Sahil had made for her, which reminded him that he had never picked up the second set of clothes that the tailor had made for them.

Alas, time was short and although he brought up the question, the jinnum reminded him rather adamantly that it was time to head out now.

In a way, he had to agree – it was time to head out.

The plane wouldn’t conquer itself.

Onward, towards the northwest, onto the Duchy of Irialswell and to be more precise, the town of Filannsforst.