The fleeting glint of murder in his eyes fades. His face now beams with intrigue. He takes a moment, like a glutton savoring a feast with his eyes before devouring it. Then he speaks:
— Whether you’re lying or not, we’ll find out soon enough. But if what you say is true, then please, describe in detail what you mean by handsome.
— Enough to buy you a trading caravan and make you decent men! — you reply, well-versed in negotiating with men like these. You know they respond best to confidence—a display of power, the only currency they truly respect in a world ruled by deception.
— It’s an arduous journey, filled with dangers you’re unaware of. What you’re asking is, to put it mildly, extremely costly.
— I may be unaware of the dangers that lie ahead, but I’m well aware of my wealth—and that of Prince Stanislav, my uncle and master of the palace of Zalenica.
The curtain falls; the scene is done. The low-born man before you bows, not out of servitude, but as a humbled audience might after a Shakespearean masterpiece. He is silenced by truths that now seem self-evident. Why else would someone like you be wandering through a desert that leads nowhere but to certain death?
Of course, it could all be an elaborate ruse—something spun in desperation to save your plebeian skin. But there’s something in your bearing, in your tone, that gives him pause. Something noble. Something true that convinces him of your aristocratic provenance.
Not long ago, you lived in the comfort of a palace in Moravice. And now here you are—risking your life in a wilderness for what? For a place you’re not even sure exists?
The name Zalenica still ringing in your interlocutor’s mind. You glance at the young man and ask:
— Have you ever been to Zalenica?
— Yes, – he answers laconically.
You sense he’s here strictly on business, so you decide to incentivize him.
— I’m a very wealthy person and so is my uncle—. My future is staked in that city. It’s important for me to learn everything I can about it.
He looks at you with the kind of wisdom only years of solitude can grant.
— What do you want to know?
— Have you been inside its palace? Have you seen the prince? Is he still alive and in good health?
— That’s a lot of uncertainties to stake your future on, – he replies, irritatingly poignant in his spot-on observation. But after this near-Socratic remark, he continues:
— Yes, there is one. And no, I haven’t been inside. It’s well secluded and heavily guarded since Prince Stanislav rejoined the war against Emperor Claudius.
So the rumors seem to be true. They are indeed at war with Claudius. It wasn’t just another intrigue from the western realms. The North has actually broken its alliance with the Dominion of the Levant.
The news that reached Moravice appears to hold water: your uncle, the Prince of Zalenia, is at war with the Emperor. That doesn’t bode well for your hopes of a swift journey and comforting news to bring your father, the Duke of Moravia. You can’t remain apolitical under these circumstances. You’ll have to decide whether to support your uncle—or sever ties, leaving him to face destiny alone.
Why would he provoke such a powerful enemy? Something still doesn’t add up. You need to confirm this second-hand information—perhaps even speak to your uncle himself.
As the second-born to the Duchy of Moravia—the so-called “spare”—you’re not as essential as your elder brother, but you still carry symbolic power. Enough, perhaps, to serve as the perfect ambassador.
You hadn’t been certain about this journey. Your father had refused to let you go, fearing to lose you to the unforgiving sands of the Levant. But you fled the palace, trusting your seemingly loyal friends—friends who have now abandoned you to your fate.
Maybe they were overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of the Arabian Desert—the killer of men—or, in its native tongue: Rub’ al-Khali, the Empty Quarter. Nothing grows in it. Even friendships come here to die.
But you don’t hold it against them. This isn’t their fight—it never was. It’s yours alone.
You had no purpose in Moravia. And this journey—dangerous, uncertain—was your hope for meaning in a senseless life.
However, whatever your final decision may be, you’ll need all the help you can get to reach Zalenica safely—and perhaps even to get out of there alive, if your uncle has failed to defend the city. This young man inspires a certain calm in you, and you’d much rather have him by your side for the entirety of the journey. The question is: can you convince him?
After mulling it over carefully, you break the habitual silence that always settles between you whenever you don’t initiate the conversation. You address him:
One Comment