The return trip through Tirra’s forest was uneventful. They passed beneath the ancient trees in peace, making good time across the endless sea of fallen pine needles. On more than a few occasions, Jasper caught a glimpse of watchers following them - Tirra’s strange jelly-fish-headed followers stuck out like a sore thumb in the sylvan landscape - but none ever approached them, and no Djinn appeared to reside in her mystic forest.

Gradually the giant trees faded away, replaced by a more traditional forest, and signs of civilization reappeared. Although it did not rain once in the weeks that they traveled, the land remained green and verdant, amply watered by the myriads of small rivers and streams fed by the mountain glaciers. The terrain slowly sloped down and the decrease in altitude was accompanied by an increase in temperature that - although it made little difference to Jasper - was greatly appreciated by three native Sapiyans, who were more accustomed to jungles than ice and snow.

The sheer abundance of animal life that surrounded them was astounding, but far more surprising was the complete lack of fear and skittishness that the forest creatures displayed. Almost every night, a few critters would ventured into their camp, luxuriating in the warmth of the fire or even curl up in their empty sleeping bags. Jasper felt like he had stepped into a Disney movie - but the sheer fearlessness of the creatures came with some unexpected downsides.

“I don’t get why these animals are so friendly,” Jasper complained as a bird landed on his lap one night, boldly helping itself to some of the food on his plate. He tried to shoo the bird away gently - he wanted to discourage it, not hurt it - but it was no use. The bird fluttered just out of reach of his hand and, landing on the other side of his plate, resumed pecking at the bowl of foraged berries. “Is the whole forest bewitched by some nature deity?”

Nēs̆u, who had been watching with quiet amusement, shook his head. “There is no spell. These animals don't fear us because the Moon-kissed have never taught them to fear.”

Jasper snorted. “Don’t tell me - the Moon-kissed are some sort of tree-loving, one-with-nature vegans?” Just like every elf-stereotype in the books.

The warrior’s brow knotted in confusion. “I am not familiar with those terms.”

“They don’t eat meat?” Jasper clarified.

Nēs̆u laughed. “On the contrary - the Moon-kissed are avid hunters and nobles of their Houses have dedicated entire mountains to the sport. But the Moon-kissed have a strict code of honor. They believe it dishonorable to kill any creature that is not capable of killing them. There are many predators in this region - and those are the Moon-kissed’s prey - but these little creatures of the wood? The Moon-kissed never hunt them.”

“Do they not even keep livestock?” Jasper asked, curious.

The warrior refilled his plate before answering. “Some do; livestock provides many goods beyond meat, after all, but it is not particularly common. The great herds of Kubarru and Kibtah in the south, where the land is much drier and less suitable for cultivation, produce enough wool and cheese to fill the markets of the entire province.”

In the end, Jasper lost the battle with the bird, the little thief stubbornly sticking with his meal ticket throughout the night before returning to the forest with a belly full of stolen goods.

Their pace sped up significantly once they stumbled across the main road that connected Dūr-Yarha to the cities of the south. No longer forced to camp, their nights from then on were spent in inns, their meals accompanied by the sounds of laughter, music, and free-flowing drink.

But Jasper and Ihra came to miss the quiet peace of the forests more quickly than expected. In Kār-Kuppû, Jasper’s red skin had drawn respect bordering obeisance, but in the Moon-kissed villages, his appearance was met with unease. The villagers were never openly rude or hostile, but even the tavern owners interacted with him as little as possible, preferring to deal with other members of the party instead. Ihra, on the other hand, attracted a great deal of attention; most nights the taverns were crowded with villagers eager to catch a glimpse of the rumored "elf." The Moon-kissed drew the same incorrect conclusions about the unlikely pair as the guards in Kār-Kuppû and rumors spread ahead of their party about the mysterious southern noble and his elven partner.

Finally, after a fortnight of travel, the spires of Dūr-Yarha appeared on the horizon. Even from a distance, Jasper could tell that the city dwarfed Gis̆-Izum. Although a set of walls encircled the settlement, the residences spilled out on every sides, covering the surrounding roads and fields with a vast urban sprawl. I guess in a province that's avoided all the empire’s wars, the security of a wall isn’t important, he realized.

The architecture vaguely resembled the elven conclave Aphora had built - tall spires, curved walls, an emphasis on aesthetically pleasing forms. But the homes outside the walls possessed none of the same uniformity, the edifices painted in a dazzling array of every conceivable color, much like the bright houses in Kār-Kuppû.

The group skirted around the edges of Dūr-Yarha, not entering the city proper, and when night came, Jasper was even more surprised by the city's transformation. The buildings of the central city faintly glowed beneath the moonlight, a pale, green halo rising above its towering spires.

Their destination lay a few miles to the north of the city. The House of the Third Son possessed a sprawling estate, nestled at the base of Mt. Qaitz, from whose peak the city could be seen in all its glory. A low-lying wall, meant merely for demarcation rather than protection, ran around their lands, and a small guardhouse overlooked the road that led to the city.

“Halt!”

One of the guards stepped in front of their party, waving for them to stop. The man walked over to them with a careless stroll, utterly unconcerned about the threat of violence.

“This is the land of the Third Son. What is your business here?”

Jasper and Tsia both reached into their bags at the same time, rooting for the letters of recommendation that Aphora had written them, but Nēs̆u pushed past them.

“We are associates of Lady Aphora, the Silver Lady. I believe one of your lords - a Lord Rā’imu - will wish to meet with us.” He stepped close to the guard, whispering something in his ear.

The guard scamped into the guardhouse, returning a moment later with his captain. The captain was dressed in gleaming armor inscribed with the emblem of his house and sported a large, drooping mustache that did little to hide his receding hairline. But the pale, almost silvery, cast of his skin - the Moon-kissed equivalent of Jasper’s own trait - testified that he was not a man to be trifled with.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The captain bowed respectfully toward Tsia and Jasper. “I have sent one of my men to notify Lord Rā’imu. Unfortunately, without an invitation, I cannot allow you to pass until the lord responds. Please, accept my hospitality in the meantime.”

A few minutes later, the four found themselves ushered into a small garden behind the guardhouse where a table waited, already set with cups and what Jasper could only describe as a teapot.

It was not tea. It was, however, a delicious - albeit far-too-sweet - hot beverage that could almost pass for one of the myriads of “herbal” teas that always appeared around the holidays. The captain politely interrogated them as they waited - or, as he no doubt would have protested, made “small talk.” But they did not have long to wait, as a messenger arrived shortly after Jasper had finished his drink.

Lord Rā’imu had granted them passage.

The captain gave them instructions before allowing them to leave. The “estate” was really comprised of dozens of manors, each of them bound by their allegiance to the central house. The Third Son’s lands skirted around the entire mountain, while the mountain itself was covered in a largely untouched forest that served as the hunting grounds for the House nobles. A short way down the road they came across a village - almost a small town, really - where the various servants and employees of the House resided, and it took them nearly another hour before they finally caught sight of the manor of Lord Rā’imu.

The servants had already been forewarned of their arrival, ushering them in without protest. As their mounts were taken off to the stables to be tended to, the four were brought into the central hall.

A Djinn stood waiting to greet them. He was a young man with piercing blue eyes and a shock of tawny hair; despite his rank, his skin showed no signs of the silvery hue that would distinguish him as a true talent. Two thin, small horns jutted out of his head, although they looked closer to the antlers of an elf than the horns of a Djinn. He stepped forward eagerly, his eyes raking across the assembled party with a shrewd cunning.

Nēs̆u frowned, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, my lord, but where is Lord Rā’imu? I was sure he would wish to meet us.”

The Djinn gave an easy smile. “Lord Rā’imu, at your service.”

A puzzled look crossed the warrior’s face, and the Djinn waved his hands impatiently. ‘Yes, yes - no doubt you wanted my father. Unfortunately, he died in a hunting accident a few years ago - Shamsha shine his light on him. I am his heir.”

His eyes fixed on Ihra, taking in her golden hair, through which the stubs of her nascent antlers peaked. Stepping forward, he grasped her hand enthusiastically as Ihra’s eyes widened in shock.

Oh crap, not again, Jasper thought.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sister,” Lord Rā’imu said.

It took a moment for the noble’s words to compute, but Jasper quickly realized the mistake Rā’imu had made - an understandable one really. Tsia and Ihra gaped at him in shock, but Nēs̆u hastily stepped forward, removing Rā’imu’s hand from Ihra.

“No! No, my lord,” he led the Djinn over to Tsia, “this is your sister. Lord Rā’imu, may I introduce you to the daughter of Lady Aphora and the King of Sapiya, Princess Keturah.” The warrior shot a pleading glance at Jasper and Ihra, begging them to not make a fuss over the false identity. Jasper shrugged, having already guessed her secret, and watched in silence.

Tsia stared up at the man, her jaw still agape in shock. “Sister? What are you talking about?” She turned to Nēs̆u with questioning eyes.

The warrior blushed. “When we stayed here, your mother and Lord Rā’imu - the elder, I suppose - were quite…friendly with each other. Our trip stretched on longer than intended, as a result.”

The Djinn laughed, his voice booming in the quiet hall. “There’s no need to be so coy, servant. Our dear mother had me here and, at the urging of the House elders and my father, left me behind to be raised as a proper Djinn. Unfortunately, much to my House's disappointment, I did not inherit my mother's strength.” He gestured helplessly at the empty hall around them. “When my father was alive, this hall would have been packed with servants and sycophants. But my skills are not valued by the House.”

His words dripped with bitterness and the room descended into an awkward silence as he finished speaking. After a moment’s hesitation, he took Tsia’s hand, squeezing it gently, as he shot her a quick smile. “But that has nothing to do with you, sister. Whatever hospitality I can offer is at your service.”

That night, they ate in the courtyard garden of the estate. It was a beautiful building - large, decorative walls wrapped around the enclave, enclosing a decent chuck of land. The great hall sat in the middle of the courtyard; its sturdy base was elevated above the rest, with obvious defensive measures in place which suggested that, at least at some point in the past, this area was not as peaceful as it seemed.

Only the lord had his chambers in the hall, while the servants and guests stayed in any one of the numerous smaller buildings were scattered throughout the carefully tended gardens. No one was ever far from a place of beauty and tranquility within the walls of the estate.

Jasper struggled to get a good read on Lord Rā’imu. Their young host was charming - funny, eloquent, good-looking - but he couldn’t hide the occasional flashes of bitterness that broke through. The one thing that seemed utterly sincere about the young Djinn, however, was his obvious fascination with Tsia.

He quizzed her long into the night about every aspect of her life - her father’s courts, her training, her other siblings, and - above all - their mother. Jasper was honestly surprised at how active Aphora had been in Tsia’s life. Apparently, the princess had often gone to stay with her mother when she was in Gis̆-Izum - in fact, Jasper and Ihra had just missed her most recent visit, the princess leaving mere weeks before they arrived in the city. He also couldn’t miss the pain and envy in Rā’imu’s eyes.

“So, why did you come here?” Rā’imu finally asked. “When the guard delivered me your message, I thought my sister had come to meet me, but it’s clear now she didn’t even know I existed. Why enter Harei Miqlat at all? Why come here?”

Tsia hesitated, unsure if it was her place to tell Rā'imu about the lyre; after a moment's thought, she nodded her head in Jasper’s direction. “You should probably ask Jasper.”

The Djinn turned his eyes on Jasper, curiosity burning intensely in their depths. “Ah yes, the mysterious southern noble.” Not for the first time, Jasper wondered why everyone assumed he was from the south.

Jasper started to speak, but the Djinn raised his hand, cutting him off. “I already know much of your activities, Lord Jasper and I hope we can find time to discuss them further - your motives have been most perplexing. But what is your connection to Tsia?”

Jasper felt a momentary flash of confusion at Rā’imu’s words. My activities? My motives? What the hell is the Djinn talking about…unless. He shuddered as the image of Kār-Kuppû wreathed in flames popped into his head. That wasn’t on purpose! I wasn't trying to add 'domestic terrorist' to my resume!

“Um, I don’t really have much of a connection to Tsia. Ihra and I worked for Aphora briefly and apparently she suggested that Tsia join our party, but I only met her a few weeks ago myself,” he finished, lamely.

Rā’imu cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing Jasper for a moment, then nodded as a slow smile crept across his face. “A player of the game, I see. I look forward to talking to you more - but not tonight.” He stood up, stretching his arms languidly. “I am headed off to bed. The servants will guide you to your quarters whenever you’re ready.” As he disappeared into the shadows, headed for the central hall, one thought kept running through Jasper’s mind. What game?