The Kandir Desert was located in the far south of Elderim. The place was known for its gigantic sandstorms and for the red dragon, known as Zererth, the Red Fury. The majestic creature flew over the area at night, observing every part, searching for food or unsuspecting adventurers. Its mere presence was enough to kill the weakest.
However, it was not the only danger in the Kandir Desert. There were giant scorpions, groups of mercenaries, powerful and hostile magical communities. But amid so much peril, there was a pearl in that dry environment: the Oasis of a Thousand Nights, the paradise after long days of exhaustion searching for water or simply the peaceful rest of a safe place.
Laurent received the oasis as a gift from the goddess Everyn herself, for his great deeds in saving the universe. In addition to immeasurable riches, the noble title — which suited him very well — and irreplaceable magical items, the archer was the one who enjoyed each gift the most. He created a vast community in that place; houses were built around his palace, made of marble and gold. Animals lived there as part of his immense treasure. He was the sole administrator, the ruler, the king.
Not even the new republic could penetrate the natural defenses that the desert provided. The oasis had its natural river, with a forest of palm trees, waterfalls, and lagoons. Besides having peace, with few bandits — and those who appeared didn't survive long against Laurent's justice, who sent them to die in that expanse of sand.
Randyr and Gilgrim arrived at the entrance to the oasis. They knew that place, had spent days of partying and fun there, drinking rum and good beer, back when their lives still had some splendor, when it was still worth celebrating their feats. They had been so powerful that the only challenge was whether the problem would be solved quickly.
Even though that place brought them good memories, they entered the large initial pillars with bitterness. Right at the entrance stood the statue of Laurent with his bow, aimed at his visitors, in a solemn pose. Next came tributes to both of them.
Randyr had requested that any image of her before the fight against Khaled be removed; she didn't want to be remembered as she once was, but as her current self: the powerful and feared warrior, not the Axe of Tiphus. She liked her appearance, what she had become — it just shouldn't have come at such a high price: giving up her death. The orc-woman just sighed after seeing the images so prominently.
Some recognized them, pointing in their direction, but no one had the courage to approach. They were two living legends.
Laurent had been the only one, during those two hundred years, who remained in the spotlight, ruling, enjoying every aspect of his bohemian life — at least that's what they thought. Everyone had those preconceptions about Laurent: his easy, debauched life, along with the absurd number of women who frequented the castle, associating him with pure depravity.
The two had no difficulty entering the palace. There weren't many people around. Contrary to what the people thought, the place seemed abandoned. After the forest of palm trees, passing the magical barrier was no difficulty for someone who had surpassed the normal aspect of power. Both found those measures strange.
Usually, the palace was full of life: minstrels, bards, dancers, and other artists. There was no one; no life around sensed Gilgrim, except for the owner himself, who was in the palace's common area.
— Maybe there's some trick. — Randyr drew her axe, holding it firmly, even though there were few challenges that could surprise her.
When they passed through the initial gate, luxury and gold were scattered on the ground: tapestries, paintings, gold, jewels, magical items.
The great hall that had once hosted kings, dragons, and powerful creatures, like the Sultan of Fire himself, was unrecognizable. The unusual mess worried them.
— My beautiful and splendid friends. To what do I owe the visit? — The voice echoed in the lifeless hall.
The man was wearing an old robe, with several eyes all over the fabric, which seemed to move constantly. Magical stones were orbiting around his head. His clothes were old and grimy. It seemed Laurent hadn't bathed in a long time. His red hair was disheveled; his beard enormous, reaching his chest; along with deep dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in ages. The strong smell of alcohol permeated every part of the man. Human and, apparently, fragile.
Bottles and barrels piled up near the throne, the table overturned on the floor, rotting food further away.
— What happened to you, Lau? — Gilgrim was truly shocked. If there was anyone she never thought could fall so far, it was the archer, always so lively. That appearance was a shadow of the past. Even though she condemned his bohemian life, his short relationships, and even his philosophy of life, she thought Laurent would be the refreshing energy that old team needed.
— Ah, little Gil... — Laurent looked around as if seeing the disaster for the first time. — Everything is so ephemeral... No matter how many years pass, everything repeats and ends and repeats again... Nothing surprises me anymore. Everything is exhausting, and passion is just a gentle breath of pleasure and pain. This all means nothing. — He kicked some gold coins nearby. The man paced back and forth.
— Lau... — Randyr called him, as he seemed to be rambling. — Khaled is back.
— I dreamed... I thought it was just a vain hope for rest. — There was energy in his voice.
— No, Laurent. Khaled needs to be imprisoned again. We can't let him go just because you're bored with the gifts Everyn gave you. We were blessed and promised the goddess... — Gilgrim didn't finish her sermon.
Laurent brought his hand to his head as if hearing a disturbing sound, turning towards the dwarf with a face twisted in anger.
— SHUT UP. Just... Silence. — Laurent began to walk away but was followed by the two.
— You see the years that passed as something ordinary, Gilgrim... I'm human. I thought I could live well; I thought, naively, that the more years passed, the better life would be, without the worry of death. I thought all these superficialities would fulfill my needs.
Then the world changed and we remained... The kingdoms fell. Only elves and dwarves stayed on the timeline. But this country belongs to humans... Everything was different. Not even prestige nor fame satisfied me. I was so young, so immature, and I couldn't see that. My friends abandoned me, Khaled was right about what happened... When...
— Laurent! — Gilgrim was beginning to lose her patience. She understood that her friend wasn't mentally stable and could be helped, but doubting the goddess's intentions was something she couldn't forgive.
— Sorry... It's just... It's been so long. — Laurent wasn't in his best state.
He used to be dazzling, with his fine and expensive clothes, the best equipment, with the best connections.
— Enough of this discussion. Come, Lau, you need a bath and a trim for that beard and hair. — Randyr grabbed the redhead's shoulders, leading him towards where she knew there was a large pool.
It was left to Gilgrim to stay alone in that lamentable environment.
She couldn't be wrong. Dwarves lived as long as elves. Khaled would also live so long that she would hardly see her friends again.
The paladin couldn't understand the fixation of humans or orcs with death. Randyr wanted what she received but also wanted an honorable battle until her end — and that wasn't granted to her. In compensation, she gained family, someone to love: her wife Micella.
Laurent desired countless riches, as well as fame and a palace.
Gilgrim only wanted peace. She lived in the temple in prayer, saw everyone leave, wars happen, until there was no one left — all for duty. To maintain balance.
Everyn gave her the blessing, granted her the honor that many clerics and paladins dream of having. So, she needed to feel satisfied and grateful.
But she could never forget Khaled: his ambition, the indifferent way he dealt with the world and, even so, managed to smile and help those in need, without asking for anything in return — even without being good.
Those conflicting feelings had been her ghosts for so long.
And now she had to deal with tired companions, who knew that, at some point, they would have to stop any attempt by the elf to get what he wanted.
She also wanted her well-deserved rest. However, her duty to the goddess was more important.
So, why didn't her friends understand?
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— There have been previous uprisings. When the people are dissatisfied or when the government completely loses control over creatures that invade their territories — Khaled commented as they walked toward the city indicated by Liandre. — What does this republic propose that's innovative? They destroyed the monarchical system that had existed for so many centuries among various races, except for the high elves, who operate through a council, making decisions for the benefit of the people, theoretically.
— I don't like politics. — Liandre wasn't interested in the subject, but faced with the wizard's gaze, he just let out a sigh. — From what I understood, they change rulers every ten years; they have a council that responds to the general population's demands—magic schools, cleric temples, warrior academies, and other professions, in addition to leadership positions handling trade... Apparently, power has been divided: before, the monarchy and nobles decided everything, and now, it's the people's chosen representatives who do that. And the highest representative is the one who gives orders, called the Leadership or Leader. But something I do know is that the leader of the revolution, Ghost, is always by the side of the next ruler.
— If it's the way you described, it wouldn't be a bad system, but there are always those who take advantage of... — Khaled suddenly stopped talking, pointing toward the tracks they had found after leaving the forest. There were iron rails stretching along the entire visible path and thick wooden planks with massive pins fastening them to the iron. The wizard had never seen such an invention.
— Trains. I thought they always existed — Liandre stared at the elf's curious face with a certain fondness; his expressions were always beautiful and genuine. — They're like big iron carriages, powered by steam. Just don't ask me how they work; they're used to transport people, cargo, animals, even food. When I was born, they already existed.
— Fascinating. I thought they might move through magic, but apparently, there are advanced technological systems — he touched his own chin, still staring at the track.
— Must be. — The mercenary didn't know what other possible inventions he could tell him about; he'd only remember by seeing and explaining. Besides, he didn't know what Khaled had seen in the past.
They followed the tracks until they reached the first station, a few kilometers away. It was just a bench with an awning and some vines climbing up the wood; it could be considered pretty and rustic. There was no one around at that time, but there were roads cutting through the forest toward more distant farms, as well as the forest on the other side. The wizard sat down, waiting. He could have used magic to take them around the entire world, but he preferred to walk the path, at least initially, to reach the first city on foot. Besides, he needed to know the exact location. The world had changed so radically, according to the mercenary's words, that he thought he might make a basic mistake if he dared to teleport into an environment that was no longer familiar. If it were in the elves' country, he could have done it; things didn't usually change there. However, since humans lived short lives, changes happened much more quickly and dynamically; he didn't know about their current technologies or if the city in question still existed in the same way. So, he needed to be cautious. Besides, he didn't know if his old companions were already making their moves; probably yes. He could use current knowledge and get involved with political leaders, as he had done in the past; there were interesting possibilities, in his view.
— The train should only come at nightfall. — Liandre crossed his arms, leaning against the side, closing his eyes. He needed to rest after the long walk. He was only surprised when he felt the wizard lean against his body. The elf's head rested on his arm while he looked in the direction of the tracks. Of course, the mercenary immediately tensed up; his intention to rest was completely frustrated by a simple intimate gesture. He could feel his heart pounding intensely, to the point where he thought the other might hear it.
— No need to get nervous, Liandre. — The wizard's voice was strangely sweet at that moment. The taller man just turned his face in his direction; he had his eyes closed, wishing for a moment of idleness. He let out a weary sigh; he didn't understand why he was being so affected. Particularly, he wasn't someone who got deeply involved. Of course, he had his needs, but he didn't get involved more than necessary. He didn't want to have children, so when he embraced a woman, he usually took all the care he could; when he was with men, his bond also wasn't emotional. But he wasn't someone who really engaged in casual sexual encounters. Sometimes, there was a meeting that lasted a night or a few weeks, but he avoided it because of the curse he carried in his body. However, that emotional barrier had been breaking since he met Khaled, and he wondered if the bond could be responsible for that. He tried to feel comfortable, even if his mind wasn't helping. He could easily imagine the sensation of Khaled's lips and, even so, believed it would be better if he actually did it. He knew that their relationship was one of interest; they were helping each other. Above all, because the elf wanted to regain his freedom and his power; he knew how much Khaled longed to climb that path. And as for himself? He needed to free himself from the arcane fragment inside him, to break the curse. But did that prevent the two of them from having something deeper than just casual conversations and curious questions from the other? It was while thinking about that that he finally managed to sleep for a few hours.
Khaled didn't want to sleep, just to provoke the mercenary. It was interesting to see his tense and almost demure reactions. However, he always needed to keep in mind that Liandre was just a bridge, nothing more than that; at the end of his precious mission, he would be discarded, and the blame was Everyn's own, who chose her family, placing the curse on those innocent people, making them endure such pain for generations because of a magic they couldn't bear. The arcane wasn't something that just anyone could handle with mastery. So, he could feel absolved for using Liandre as he wished; he could enjoy himself along the way, the young man seemed like someone easily manipulated, and that would be useful. Someone who could sacrifice himself, who believed in his words even if others said otherwise. He needed to ensure that no one else tried to get into the mercenary's heart besides himself. The bond magic would work well; he could use any spell he needed on Liandre, the taller man didn't have the ability to resist, and the more he made him a puppet, the more advantage and fewer questions he would have in the future. So, he would conquer his little mind and his heart; it didn't seem difficult, especially since he already had his desires. Khaled was convinced of his circumstances. Even though he didn't want to sleep, he ended up resting until he heard the deafening noise of the train. The track shook violently, displaying all its grandeur and size.
Liandre woke up at the sound. He stood up immediately, grabbing his sword, but let it go when he realized it was just the transport they had been waiting for. The wizard was amazed at the size of such a "carriage." It was divided into long wagons, which soon stopped after a loud noise, followed by an even stronger hiss, announcing its arrival. It was late afternoon; there was no one around. The two of them entered, and Khaled handed two gold coins to the boy standing at the door.
— These coins have strange symbols — the short boy with a pimple-covered face commented. — I don't know if they're valid.
— Here. — Liandre took out all the silver coins he could find in his pocket. He spent all his savings on that risky trip, so he didn't have much. It had been a while since he'd had any missions that generated profit. So, his last bit of money was gone through the collector's suspicious gaze.
Khaled walked beside him to one of the cabins; there was no one besides the two of them, which was lucky. Since they had paid the lowest price, soon four more people could occupy the uncomfortable benches.
— We need to melt your coins and remake them according to the Republic's symbol, or we're broke. But in the city, we can take care of that. — Liandre was thinking that the food wouldn't last forever.
— You think of everything — Khaled said more softly, his voice slightly husky, sitting beside the mercenary, who broke into a cold sweat; the atmosphere had been strange since the moment they waited for the train. He needed to control his impulses. — How long do you intend to hold back?
The wizard's eyes subtly glowed. Liandre realized he didn't need the conventional restraints he had been dealing with for days. He leaned in, touched the delicate face with his calloused hand, kissing Khaled's lips without any more hesitation, as if the barrier that prevented him and his insecurities had disappeared. And the pleasant surprise was being reciprocated by the elf's lips. Kissing more and more intensely, until he pressed his body against the train wall, leaning over him. He was starting to feel very anxious and needy. He needed more.