Chapter 135

Beneath the fierce sunlight, Ricard and Hashim trudged through hazy, choking sand toward the unreachable, shimmering horizon.

Aslaf had kept his word. Not once during their journey through his kingdom had Ricard been attacked by mounted bandits or anyone else.

But the moment they left his lands, they were greeted by a barren desert where no one lived—where no one possibly could.

"At this rate, the horses will collapse before we do."

Ricard had wrapped a length of cloth around his head to shield it from the sun. Sure enough, the laden horses were panting heavily, their mouths foaming. Even the red horse was struggling.

"We're already more than halfway across. We can't turn back now. Remember, a thousand years ago, the great Halid, the Sword of God, crossed this desert to continue his conquests."

"An army marched through a place like this? I can hardly believe it."

"Of course, because of this desert, the emirs and sultanates beyond it have nothing to do with the Empire, strictly speaking. They've already been going their own way for hundreds of years."

An empire that conquered vast territories was fated to fragment. With such a merciless desert in between, maintaining control was naturally difficult.

While Ricard and Hashim were talking, one of the packhorses slumped to the ground, its strength spent.

Once the first horse went down, the others sank down too. Even the red horse, which served as their leader, made no attempt to threaten them now.

"We've no choice. Let's kill them and at least drink their blood. Take only as much treasure as we can carry..."

As Hashim offered this practical advice, Ricard silently began unloading the horses' heavy burdens and stacking them neatly on the ground.

"What are you doing?"

"Give me a hand. Help me tie this up."

Ricard piled up the baggage, bound it with rope, then hoisted it onto his own back and tried to stand.

Hashim knew he was an unusual and extraordinary man, but wasn't this going too far? They couldn't have a man collapsing instead.

"I appreciate your noble intentions, but a man cannot sacrifice himself for beasts."

"Oh, come now, that's not what I'm doing..."

Ricard stood with a load several times larger than himself on his back. Bent far forward, he turned only his head to speak.

"I'm doing it because I can. If it really becomes too much, we can reconsider then."

Then he began walking beneath the scorching sun, planting one foot after another on the searing ground. Hashim blinked in disbelief.

Perhaps the horses understood that their master was suffering in their stead. They rose from the ground, their burdens much lighter.

And so the man carried the heavy load while the horses simply walked.

An ordinary man would have collapsed hundreds of times over, but Ricard walked on in silence, thinking only of holding out until nightfall. Hashim walked beside him, worried.

After several hours without a rest, however, they spotted someone standing near the shimmering horizon.

Was it a mirage, or a demon of the wilderness watching them? At first they thought it was some sort of rock, but it was unmistakably a person.

The figure raised a hand and pointed toward Ricard. He seemed to turn his head and speak to someone.

Afraid it might be a band of mounted brigands, Hashim hastily called Ricard to a halt.

"Look, look, Riki. Bandits."

"What? There are bandits here? That's impressive! Robbing people even in a place like this!"

Ricard set down his load, took his scabbard in hand, and looked around. His face and body were drenched in sweat.

"Where? Where? Oh, there."

Ricard spotted the figure standing near the horizon too. After watching them for a while, the figure began walking toward them.

It took some time for him to pass through the heat haze and gradually come into view. He was a cute little boy with black skin. Not merely tanned by the sun—his skin was genuinely black.

He was draped in shabby rags, and astonishingly, he walked barefoot through the blazing desert. His arms and legs were terribly thin, but he did not seem ill.

The boy ambled over, swinging and swaying playfully as though he were out for a stroll around his neighborhood. Then he smiled brightly and said,

"Are you two stupid?"

"... What?"

"There's an oasis over that way. I've never seen a person carrying the animals' loads for them before."

He burst into laughter, though what he found so funny was unclear. His innocent manner made Ricard wonder whether he was a messenger sent by God. It was also Ricard's first time seeing anyone with black skin.

Hashim looked at the boy and asked,

"What tribe are you from, lad?"

"We're the Azur tribe. We're descendants of the people of the Empire."

"..."

Was every Tom, Dick, and Harry from the Empire these days? There was no telling what event or circumstance at some point in history had led this curious boy to call himself a descendant of the Empire.

For now, tired and worn out as he was, Ricard could only stare in bewilderment. Even Hashim, with all his worldly knowledge, was equally bemused.

He had heard that black people existed, but this was his first time seeing one in person.

"I'm Auku. What are your names?"

"I am Hashmid Abhajid. This is Ricard."

"Those are hard to pronounce. Can I just call you Hashim and Riki?"

Huh? Did he have some supernatural gift?

Perhaps this was nothing more than a chance meeting between strangers, but their extraordinary circumstances and the accumulating coincidences left Ricard and Hashim with a strange feeling. The boy before them truly seemed like a divine messenger.

"Well, yes..."

"Follow me, Hashim, Riki."

Auku waved his arm broadly, beaming. His smile was the only refreshing thing in all that heat.

Still bewildered, the two men followed him for the moment.

They turned left from their original course and followed Auku. Sure enough, they had not gone far before a real oasis appeared. They had put themselves through all that suffering without realizing it was right beside them.

Grass and palm trees grew around the oasis, and several hide tents stood nearby. People with skin as black as Auku's lived in them.

Auku ran over to them, pointing at the two men as he said something. The adults, at least, regarded Ricard and Hashim with wary eyes. Or perhaps they were simply studying them.

When people of different peoples met for the first time, their first instinct was to examine each other's appearance and attire.

To Ricard, the Azur tribe's clothing resembled Salaman dress in some ways, yet had a distinct character of its own. In this hot climate, their clothes were thin and loose-fitting.

They looked something like priests' robes, or perhaps the clothing of wealthy merchants.

Auku came back over.

"The chief wants to see you."

Ricard and Hashim followed the boy into a broad, conical tent.

The moment they entered, a familiar fragrance struck them: agarwood incense. But mingled with it was another smell, sharp and pungent.

Incense smoked off to one side, and a deeply wrinkled old man sat inside. When he opened his mouth, out came a language they could not understand.

His guttural rattles and hacking sounds made him seem ill, or as though he were hawking up phlegm, but that was his language.

Fortunately, Auku interpreted for them.

"He says the oasis belongs to no one, so you may drink the water. But he can't welcome you. Just as even beasts call a brief truce at an oasis, we can do the same."

"A truce?"

"That's when people who are fighting stop for a while."

"No, I know what it means. But we never came here as enemies. Please make sure he understands. We aren't enemies. We're only passing through."

Through Auku, Ricard made it clear to the Azur chief that he had no intention of fighting.

The chief listened quietly, then tilted his head as though he did not understand and spoke again.

"He asks how he can trust you when the Steel People are so warlike they even kill members of their own tribe."

"Steel People?"

"People like you. White skin, with steel all over your bodies."

There was a slight misunderstanding. They believed all white-skinned people belonged to the same tribe, and were shocked to see them killing one another, whether in war or otherwise.

They simply could not comprehend killing someone from one's own tribe.

"But I'm not one of the Steel People," Hashim said.

"We call you the Gold People. The Steel People are warlike, and the Gold People are treacherous."

"Gold People?"

"We call you that because you're people who eat gold. You all go mad at the sight of it."

The names arose from misunderstandings, but there was a certain insight beneath them: the Franken people were warlike, and the Salaman people were mad for money.

After giving it some thought, Ricard said,

"In any case, I understand. We'll quench our thirst and regain our strength, then leave at once. We will never do anything to harm the Azur tribe. I swear it on my family's honor. Please tell him that."

Auku relayed Ricard's words. The chief nodded and said something in reply.

When Ricard looked at Auku, the boy translated without making him wait.

"He says he understands. He thinks he could trust you if we made a trade. To start with, he'd like to buy some horses."

"We can't transport our baggage without horses."

"They won't make it to the next oasis. I'll guide you instead. How about trading the baggage too?"

What Ricard carried was no ordinary baggage. It was the treasure Sultan Aslaf had given him.

There were silks and porcelain, golden goblets, silver candlesticks, and silver tableware. It was hard to imagine these people having enough money to pay what they were worth.

"Let's exchange them for spices. That would be better than carrying all this weight."

It was Hashim's suggestion. Ricard knew how expensive spices were too. Saying they were worth more than their weight in gold was no exaggeration. It was literally true.

"By the way, will you be doing the bargaining?" Ricard asked Auku.

"Where do you think I learned the Imperial language?"

Auku deliberately lifted his chin and puffed up with pride. He was a cheeky, lively, inquisitive boy.

Every group had its odd character, and among these people, that seemed to be the boy. Ricard rather liked him.

"All right. Let's see the goods," Ricard replied cheerfully.

Before that, Ricard and Hashim shared a few cups of liquor with the chief—not quite a welcoming ceremony, but a pledge that both sides would keep their word. The drink was intensely sweet and strong.

Then they passed a single smoke around, each taking a puff until it had burned out. Afterward, the chief smiled faintly.

A heady buzz came over them in no time. It could hardly have been poison, since the chief was just as dazed and kept grinning. Hashim continued smoking beside him, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused.

Ricard staggered to his feet. Outside, the world spun around him. Sky and earth seemed to trade places. Yet he felt good.

First, he gave the horses plenty of water and a generous helping of hay. Then he unpacked the baggage and sorted out what to sell and what to keep.

He decided to sell most of the silver, but keep the pieces with intricate carvings that truly seemed like treasures.

Then, without even knowing how the trade had gone, Ricard drifted off to sleep.

When he opened his eyes, he was inside a hide tent, feeling rather chilly. Desert temperatures varied drastically between day and night, and it grew genuinely cold after sunset.

Still, how long had it been since he'd slept so well? He felt wonderfully refreshed, his body brimming with energy.

He sat up. Beside him, Hashim was sound asleep.

"Hashim, Hashim. Wake up. Wake up. Hurry."

"Mmm... Hm? When did I fall asleep?"

Hashim quickly sat up too. His eyes were clear; apparently he had also slept well.

"Have they done something to us?"

"Wouldn't you say we've slept rather too well for that? No one's harmed us, and they even lent us a tent."

"Hmm... But what's that?"

Hashim pointed to one side of the tent, where a leather bundle lay.

Ricard opened it to find several small pouches inside. They contained finely ground spices: saffron, cloves, cinnamon, pepper, ginger, chili, and the like.

There were also a few bottles of oil pressed from oil palms. Their baggage had shrunk considerably.

"Did we make a good trade?"

"Who knows? I can't remember what we sold."

"Only half-honest folk, then."

Outside, the other tents were nowhere to be seen. Had they packed them up and left in the meantime? Or had he gone off to some strange world and come back?

Besides the red horse, three horses were chewing hay near the oasis. Two were missing. It seemed he had sold them.

Just then, Auku tugged at Ricard's clothes from behind.

"Let's go."

"Hm? You didn't leave? Where are we going?"

"You said you wouldn't sell the white silk, but when I offered to show you where there's treasure in exchange, you sold it to me. A promise is a promise."

"Did I? I don't remember. By the way, you got us drunk on purpose, didn't you? To make the bargaining easier."

"Quite the opposite. It was to ensure an honest trade. Hashish makes people truthful."

"Did you smoke it too, then? No, you didn't."

"I'm honest. Look, I waited here to keep my promise, didn't I? And you're lucky. You can't get crystal flowers at any other time of year."

"Crystal flowers?"

"Flowers that bloom on just one night a year. If you pick them while they're blooming, they never wither. If you brew them and drink the brew, you can meet the dead. And they have plenty of other uses. Like restoring lost memories."

It was hard to believe, but at the mention of restoring lost memories, Ricard instinctively turned to Hashim.

Yet Hashim seemed lost in thought. Surprisingly, he did not look particularly pleased.

"And since you're one of the Steel People, Riki, you aren't afraid of demons either, are you?"

"Well, I don't deny fear."

"I know where an ancient emperor's tomb is. That's the place with the treasure I told you about. If you can defeat the demon, you could have an incredible treasure. It isn't far from here."

Ricard looked at Hashim once more. Hashim said,

"Let's go. I've never seen such a thing either. If we come all this way and leave without seeing it, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives. When will we ever come here again?"

"True enough. Let's go, Auku," Ricard said.

Taking only Lightning, he followed their young guide through the cold desert with Hashim.