With a twist of his hand, S̆arrābī dismissed the barrier. An audible pop filled the room as the eerie silence of the spell was immediately overwhelmed by the familiar bustle of the estate. As Jasper made his way out of the audience chamber, he couldn’t decide if he was excited by the possibilities that S̆arrābī had offered him or pissed off that he had been essentially gang-pressed into service. Both, he admitted to himself.

Ihra was waiting for him outside. She sat by herself on the lacquered wood steps that lead up into Rā’imu’s hall. Her eyes were fixed on the great mountain that loomed over the estate, apparently lost to the world, but she whirled around as soon as he approached, unable to hide her worry. “Well? What did he want?”

Jasper plopped down beside her with an exaggerated sigh, handing her the dossier wordlessly. She read through it quickly, her hands flying through the pages with increasing speed. “Why? Just…why?”

With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. What I wouldn’t give for a proper barber. Do they even exist here? They must, in the big cities at least. Outside of a few pleasant days in the Sanctum, he had yet to spend any quality time in a city, he realized. Always rushing from crisis to crisis.

“Jasper?” Ihra poked him in the side, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I don’t really understand it either.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Like, I sort of get it. Nabul and his cronies belong to a faction that has been applying pressure on the royal family to open the borders. The southern factions, on the other hand, are bitterly opposed to making any changes, and the royal family is caught somewhere in the middle. They sympathize with at least some of the northern demands, but can’t afford to look weak to the more powerful southern lords. So they need to find a way to shut the north up.”

“And then I came along and rumors spread that we were attached to the royal house. Attacking a member of the royal house, even one that’s just an unacknowledged bastard, is a grave insult at best, borderline treason at worst. Since members of both northern factions participated in the event, S̆arrābī can use this “insult” to force them to back down on the border issue, which will win him favor with the southern tribes, and in turn, he can leverage that favor to get what he really wants.

“And what is that?” Ihra asked quietly.

“To send troops to help the empire reconquer the capital, with me accompanying them, apparently.” He scowled. “The real question is if I’m being sent along in good faith, or as a sacrificial lamb.” With a groan, Jasper laid back against the steps, ignoring the sharp wooden edges that pressed against his back. “God, I hate politics.”

The next few days passed in a blur. The royal contingent stayed only two more days, before departing for the capital again. “Two months,” S̆arrābī warned Jasper as his knights rode out of the gates.

“Two more months,” he muttered, as he watched them depart in a cloud of dust. With the timer ticking down, the group couldn’t stay long at Rā’imu’s place. But they had come there on a mission, and Jasper was not prepared to allow a potential advantage to slip through his fingers. After all, you never knew when you want to call in a favor.

So they waited, impatiently, for the elders of the House of the Third Son to deign to meet with them. Jasper was somewhat surprised that the elders, despite Rā’imu’s relative unimportance in his House, were not more eager to get their hands on the relic. Rā’imu himself was a charming host; he took them on hunts almost daily, treated them to sumptuous meals, and spent nearly every waking second with his sister. As the days slipped past with no summons, Jasper begin to wonder if the elders had even been informed of their presence, suspecting that Rā’imu was delaying them on purpose.

When two weeks had passed with no meeting, Jasper knew they could afford to wait no longer. The four met as usual in the garden for breakfast, the one time of the day when Rā’imu, a late riser, left them alone.

“I think we just have to leave.”

“I can be ready to leave in an hour,” Ihra replied, half standing up from her seat.

“What? Why?” Tsia stopped buttering her scone mid-stroke as she looked up, startled. “We still haven't met with the elders. Plus,” she said hesitantly, "it's been nice getting to know Rā'imu."

Ihra replied before Jasper could. “We only have six weeks left to do the trial and make it to the capital on time. Rā’imu is clearly stalling us at this point. Probably because of you.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but she shot Tsia a pointed look.

“Me? I-” Tsia paused, flustered. “I, uh…maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “I don’t think Rā’imu is trying to harm us; he just wants to spend time with me."

“Maybe," Jasper agreed, "but we can’t afford to keep delaying. The royal family has given me a deadline, and as much as I was hoping to get a nice reward from the Lyre of Damqa, it's definitely not worth pissing off the royal family. We’re just going to have to leave.”

Nēs̆u, who had thus far been eating in silence, cut in. “There might be another option. I think you’re correct, Ihra, that Rā’imu is in no rush to arrange a meeting for us with the elders.” He patted Tsia’s hand fondly, smiling down at his charge. “But he is still a noble of the realm - he will not dare risk angering the Royal House. It’s about a three-week trip from here to S̆addanu, so he will not delay us more than another three weeks.”

“But if we wait, we won’t have time to do Ihra’s quest,” Jasper pointed out.

Nēs̆u drained his cup, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. “And that is why we should temporarily split. Tsia and I can stay here, and deliver the lyre to the elders when Rā’imu finally stops stalling. You and Ihra can go do her quest, and we can all meet up in the capital.” He smiled wryly, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “It’s not like you’re going to be hard to find, 'my lord.'”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Tsia perked up at Nēs̆u’s suggestion, glancing at Jasper with hopeful eyes, which he studiously ignored. Jasper turned to Ihra. “What do you think?”

She swept her long, golden hair back, gathering it up with a bow. “Like I said, I can be ready to leave in an hour. The trial’s more important to me than the lyre.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a plan.” He glanced back at Tsia and Nēs̆u. “Tell me something - are you truly planning to meet us in the capital?”

Surprise flickered across her face. “Of course I am. I want to spend time with Rā’imu, but I want to see my mother more. We will meet you at S̆addānu.”

Jasper still wasn't sure how much he trusted the two, but Ihra's quest was more important than lyre, so there was no reason to not give them the chance to prove themselves.

Rā’imu, predictably, offered no objections when Jasper informed him that he and Ihra were leaving. Ever the gracious host, he provided them with generous supplies, gathered promptly by his servants. And thus, well before the sun had reached its noontime zenith, they were on the road again.

After passing through the enclave’s gates, they settled into a steady gallop, aiming for the city. The spot marked on the map Lord Arutû had given them was in Dūr-Yarha itself, in a section on the lower south side. He was looking forward to seeing the city for himself - when they had passed it from a distance the city had seemed truly impressive.

But, as Jasper rode toward the city, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over him, remembering what Bā'er's son had called the city - S̆admūti, the mountain of death. He hoped he wouldn’t find out why it was named that.

As they drew closer to the city, Dūr-Yarha's ethereal beauty became more and more pronounced. It was late in the night when they finally reached its gates, but the pale green rock that lined the city walls glowed faintly beneath the moonlight. The entire city was illuminated in a gentle light and, just like in Kār-kuppû, the city streets bustled with traffic well into the night.

The guards ushered them in without complaint, their eyes widening with respect and wonder when they saw the short antlers peaking out of Ihra’s hair. The pair didn’t even have to search for a room to stay in as the guards insisted on escorting her to a reputable inn. They ate in their room, away from prying eyes, and despite the fact that the inn could not match the opulence of Lord Rā’imu’s estate, Jasper had the best night of sleep he had in ages, secure in the knowledge that no one was likely to be spying on him.

But they were there on a mission, not vacation. After a quick breakfast in their room, the pair headed out to find the spot marked on Arutû's map. Ihra bound her hair with a scarf, hiding the tell-tale antlers away from prying eyes. They very quickly realized that the city was vast, far beyond even Gis̆-Izum in extent, and, unfortunately, they were nowhere near the spot Arutû had marked.

They had to stop at more than a few stalls before someone was willing to tell them where to go. The old merchant stared at them indecisively, his eyes flickering back and forth from the map to them. “Do you know where this is?”

Jasper resisted the urge to snap at him. No, I’m just asking for directions for the fun of it.

The man perhaps saw the annoyance in his eyes, as he clucked his tongue reluctantly. “I’m just asking. Tis a bad spot in town, that’s all. Not a place for proper folks like you to be seen.”

“Be that as it may, we need to examine something there. Can you help us or not?” Ihra demanded.

The merchant shrugged his shoulders. “Fine, buy something from my stall, and I will tell you how to get there.”

After a few minutes of attempting to buy the cheapest item the merchant sold, and quickly discovering no such item asked, they finally managed to wring directions out of the merchant. Perhaps the old man scammed them even more than they realized, for as they turned to leave, he stopped them. “A free piece of advice - I noticed you’re wearing Guild uniforms under that armor. There’s no Guild in our mountains - no empire troops at all - but the Royal House operates a similar organization known as Shamsha’s Light. If you insist on going to that part of town, perhaps you should stop by there and hire a few guards. Just a thought.”

It was a thought that was quickly discarded as they walked away. “Guards?” Ihra laughed. “I’m not some delicate flower that needs protecting.”

Jasper shrugged. “At least the old man told us where to go; nobody else would even do that.” They set a good pace through the crowded streets, as the merchant had explained that their destination was almost a two-hour walk away.

The city was like nothing Jasper had ever seen before, in large part thanks to its inhabitants. Corsythians, Djinn, and elves largely resembled each other at lower levels, which the vast majority of the population always remained at, diverging more and more as they grew in strength.

But many among the citizens of Dūr-Yarha looked downright alien. While about half of the Moon-kissed Djinn around them were normal-sized, much like Qarda and Labbu, the others were far stranger. Tall, thin, and pale - these Moon-kissed towered over Jasper, standing at least 8 or 9 feet tall. Their bodies seemed too thin for their size, and as Jasper and Ihra fought their way through the crowd, he noticed the citizens always made way for them, subtly parting before the tall Moon-kissed to allow them to pass or even yielding their place in line with the merchants. Whoever they are, they must be important.

What confused him the most though was the relative flatness of the city. The village hunter had referred to the city as S̆admūti, but although the city had a few hills that rose slightly above the other sectors of the settlement, it was certainly not built on a mountain as the name implied.

Instead, Dūr-Yarha crouched some distance away from the mountains that encircled the province, its flanks closing around a small lake that occupied its center. Jasper simply couldn’t see where the name had come from, unless the hunter had simply been mistaken. It wouldn't be surprising if none of the villagers have ever actually been here, he concluded.

As they drew closer to their destination, the buildings slowly became more dilapidated. The facades were, if anything, far more detailed and complex and it was clear that the buildings had once been amongst the grandest in the city - at least compared to what Jasper had seen thus far.

Still made from the pale-green stone that filled the city, the homes towered over the street, four or five stories tall. But everywhere were the small signs of decay - engravings that were cracked and crumbling, pavement broken by weeds and roots, windows left shattered and unfilled. It’s like I somehow walked straight from Manhattan to Detroit, he mused.

The crowded streets thinned out and, much to his surprise, the number of the tall, thin Moon-kissed increased, slowly replacing their more normal-sized kin until at last, none were left. As the gaunt Moon-kissed passed them, glaring at the pair with undisguised hostility, Jasper begin to regret not listening to the merchant’s advice. Maybe hiring a few guards wasn’t such a crazy idea.

But the time to do that was in the past, and the time when Jasper would have cowered in fear from a few ruffians was also in the past. Being able to throw fireballs and walk through flames had really done a lot to cure his insecurities. Squaring his shoulders, Jasper met the hostile glares of the crowd with a defiant grin, staring them in the eyes until they looked away. Most of them, at least.

A few, however, turned and followed them, straggling just far enough behind the two that Jasper couldn’t be entirely sure they were being tailed. He leaned over to Ihra, talking quietly. “I think we’ve got company.”