Sulaiman did not particularly enjoy being in Glinburn, ranking it at the bottom of the list of cities that he had only ever read about before visiting. Grazda had been surprisingly pleasant outside of the innkeeper incident, and Roydorn's sights and tastes had been even better than the tales had made it out to be.

Most of the historical accounts of Glinburn were highly flattering, praising the way that city built itself up upon the waters of Kovean Bay, known as the Great Northern Port. The first king, Achimen Kavendash, was hailed as one of the greatest strategists the world had ever seen for his tactics during the Great War of Unification. Before the war, he had been a scholar, but as the battle for power grew deadly, Archimen managed to turn the tides against his thirteen older siblings.

Most had ties to surrounding territories through marriage or bloodline, as each of them had different mothers, that provided them more soldiers and weapons to fight with. Archimen had none of those resources because his mother's family was a modest one, the only wife his father married for love instead of power.

But that did not matter to Archimen, no, not at all once his beloved mother was slain and he could not pretend ignorance of the conflict any longer.

Archimen was ruthless as he rooted out each of his sibling's power structures with his pack of loyal warriors, slaughtering entire households down the very last maid and dog. No matter how far his siblings fled, Archimen tracked them down, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he carried the god of conquest's banner.

He marched, he killed, he conquered.

It was a near flawless victory and Archimen's strategies were still taught at military academies because textbooks couldn't come up with better examples of how one perfectly subjugates your enemies.

Of course, all of those accounts were written by Kavendash historians, so Sulaiman took them with a grain of salt. It was likely not as overwhelming as people would like to believe, but the result was still the same.

Archimen's most famous quote was, "To the Victorious, the World."

It was stamped along with Archimen's profile into each piece of gold pressed in Kavendash, a constant reminder of Kavendash's historical motto and their blood soaked history.

The country began as conquerors, and its citizens never forgot the easiest way to power.

Sulaiman saw Archimen's profile everywhere as he walked, carved into sign posts, painted hastily against a wall, diligently sewn into the edge of a curtain. It was a popular symbol of prosperity within the city, of how hard work will reward your 'just' efforts.

To place a statue of that king in front of a library, when Archimen had ordered the burning of entire estates after looting its priceless artifacts to ensure that information wasn't passed along to his enemies, was laughable. He just wanted to hoard knowledge, to keep his grip tight around people's throats to ensure complicity and obedience while masquerading as a kindly patron.

Part of Sulaiman, the part that was easiest to ignore because it only bore impossible hopes, wished to be able to walk along the library shelves. To trail his fingers along the leather bound covers, to quietly marvel at the amount of information just waiting to be learned. He had heard that sometimes, during conquests, unique spoils of war like religious tomes and governmental records were stashed away in that famous library. He wondered, sometimes, if the soldiers had stolen some of the Muloians' history books, if there might be some hidden secret part of their culture that he might be able to claim for himself without fear of reprisal.

But Sulaiman was never going to get a chance to enter that library.

There were eyes tracking his every move as he walked through the scholar district, even though Sulaiman had pulled hood down low. How they had known what he was, Sulaiman wasn't sure, perhaps someone had overheard Kavil call him by name and recognized the name's origin or perhaps the people of Glinburn had a sixth sense for those who did not belong. But Sulaiman knew sure as the sun rose in the sky each day that he would have been forcibly barred entry had he foolishly approached the library.

He hadn't even looked at it because to reminded of the impossibility of it stung, in a way that such impossibilities hadn't stung lately. Sulaiman blamed his friends for filling his life with only kind, sweet ideas of acceptance that made him forget that things did not come easily for people like him.

Sulaiman let out a slow, measured breath and put aside his book, completely unable to concentrate on it. He was alone in the house today besides the useless platypus and his wandering thoughts had gotten the better of him, it seemed.

Illnyea had been tired for the past few days, but Sulaiman recognized the stubborn glint in her eyes. She would not take a rest until her body forced her to, no matter how much Sulaiman cajoled her. So he simply had to be prepared with a blanket and high calorie snacks for when she returned each night. Underneath the tiredness, Sulaiman thought Illnyea was quite excited about what she was learning. Last night, she talked excitedly about helping to design custom armor pieces for the tournament with this new Master Lanme who was apparently the strictest person she'd ever met but rewarded effort. Illnyea had glanced at him again, as she always did when she mentioned the tournament, but Sulaiman was still out of sorts from Kavil's teasing from earlier and hadn't the energy to outright deny the question that shined in Illnyea's eyes.

It had meant to be a simple outing with him, Kavil, and Mr. Ordan. The time spent listening to the acolyte who worshiped Gaelea was pleasant enough, as most of the morals of the tales boiled down to "be kind." Though Kavil had assured Sulaiman that his tears weren't things to be worried about, seeing his red-rimmed eyes had soured the experience for Sulaiman.

Sulaiman had chosen to visit the Shade Father's temple for a simple reason. The god of death's existence transcended cultures and country boundaries, as no one was able to escape the shadows of death. In the few texts Sulaiman had been able to get his hands on, it seemed even the Muloians had treated the Shade Father with reverence, and thought that the god would not mind Sulaiman's presence within the temple. Kavil, ever the apple of every priest's eye apparently, had a strange moment with the priestess, but it was what happened after they left the temple that Sulaiman was not able to rid his brain of.

It caused horrible, insidious delusions to infect his mind, refusing to let him rest in peace. Sulaiman had laid awake last night, staring at the ceiling and wishing for the sweet release of amnesia.

Now, Sulaiman prided himself on his composure and his ability to adapt to what was thrown at him because he had planned for most possibilities.

With a cheeky grin that showed off deep dimples and no sense of personal space, Kavil, annoyingly, did all sorts of things that Sulaiman had never imagined he had to face. Kavil's implication that they were on a date was simply ridiculous — a date was not something that you simply declared you were on because it required two to joust as the saying went. But Sulaiman found that in the moment that he could not articulate that argument as he was thrown completely off balance. He couldn't help but be aware of the press of Kavil's torso against his arm, of the way that Kavil's lips curved in a way that Sulaiman could only describe as sinful — and associating that word with the situation just made Sulaiman even more flustered

Thinking of just how badly he fumbled the conversation made Sulaiman's face heat in embarrassment again and he let out a loud groan, letting his head thud against his book. He could not explain why, but the words 'this is not a date' would not pass his lips. He should have said those words because if an actual romantic relationship blossomed between them, then, then…

Sulaiman swallowed hard and forced his focus away from the dark recesses of his mind that tried to summon forth those insidious imaginations once more.

It simply couldn't happen.

"Why not?"

Kavil's frank, whispered question floated through Sulaiman's mind again.

He groaned even louder this time, running a hand over his face and wished he had a better response to that question, in fact any sort of answer to that question would be acceptable at this point. The idea that it could go badly and make things awkward seemed to fall flat because Kavil wasn't the type of person to hold grudges, and claiming that it would change Sulaiman's priorities in battle was even worse because Sulaiman was always worrying about Kavil since he was primarily a healer. All of the excuses his mind came up with didn't hold water and for some reason, that terrified Sulaiman.

The platypus sent him a judgmental look for waking him with the noise and Sulaiman flipped him the bird as Priscilla liked to say. The platypus sighed loudly and tucked his bill under his tail, dismissing Sulaiman's worries in a single, sassy motion. Sulaiman eyed the beast and wondered just what cuteness Illnyea saw in Perry.

Sulaiman had spent enough time thinking about Kavil last night and he would not waste away more of the day on thoughts of him.

Kavil and Priscilla were now off with that noble Lucilla, apparently to put the finishing touches for their wardrobes for the upcoming party that was happening tomorrow. Sulaiman did not envy either of them based on the long list of what would be considered a social faux pas, but they didn't seem to mind. Their mission to uncover information was an important one, but there was so very much that they had to do to prepare to infiltrate the snooty bastard's social circles that Sulaiman was half thankful that he could not be a part of it.

As Kavil spoke to Lucilla about the upcoming guest lists, Priscilla came to stand next to Sulaiman. Her hair was pulled back into her signature ponytail and tied off with a maroon ribbon, but she was dressed in one of her new outfits, a white shirt and long purple skirt that looked quite… fetching on her, not that Sulaiman would say such a thing aloud when Kavil could overhear. That man was a menace whenever Sulaiman expressed admiration of Priscilla.

"Are you sure about staying home alone?" Priscilla had asked softly, tucking a loc of hair behind her ear — which reminded Sulaiman that he truly needed to find a pair of scissors and sit her down to even out the uneven lengths before she paraded herself about in front of nobles.

Priscilla's green eyes had been oddly serious despite the innocuous question, face almost settling into a frown as she stared at him. "I'm sure Mr. Ordan wouldn't mind having some help while he orders our groceries."

"I went out just yesterday," Sulaiman replied firmly. "I will not wither away and die from a day of solitude — in fact, I'm looking forward to it."

Priscilla had seemed reluctant to accept that answer but sighed and crossed her arms.

"If you insist," Priscilla said, "I won't bug you anymore. I'm sure you'll have a real good fucking time with those books of yours. If you get desperately bored, you can always figure out how you want to continue torturing us with exercise while we're in the city." She paused, as if suddenly thinking of something, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "Are you good with eating leftovers for lunch? I can bring something back with us if you want."

"I'll be fine," Sulaiman said, wryly amused. "Go, have your fun and don't get arrested."

"You always say the sweetest things," Priscilla said, rolling her eyes. "Ta, tyrant."

"Goodbye idiot."

Sulaiman had certainly talked a big game with Priscilla, but now that he had been alone for two hours, it was starting to wear on him. He had not realized how unused to solitude he was now after spending nearly two months in the presence of at least one other person, and he found himself missing companionship. The freeloader platypus did not count.

He dearly wished that he was not on the driest part of his book on control on how to properly meditate. It was all a jumble of instructions on how to construct your 'mind palace' without any real practical examples as apparently 'the most effective image differs for each person.' Sulaiman had unfortunately read every other book he owned and wasn't in the mood to reread anything, even the captivating biography of Adita.

With a long sigh, Sulaiman closed his book and stood from the table.

Mr. Ordan had informed Sulaiman of where he was going to be shopping, which was about fifteen minutes straight east in the district. He likely wouldn't mind if Sulaiman came to join him. If nothing else, Sulaiman could carry some of the purchases and find pleasure in warming up his muscles. Should Sulaiman still be bored when he returned, he'd plan out the workout regime for both Priscilla and Kavil since Illnyea was busy learning artificing.

Pulling the hood of his cloak down low, Sulaiman locked the front door before stepping out into the street. The constant scent of the salt in the air was one that Sulaiman didn't hate, but being surrounded by water was something he very much did mind.

Being surrounded by the element that was his antithesis set Sulaiman's teeth on edge. It was easy to coat someone in a bubble of warm air after getting so much practice due to Priscilla and Kavil's whining, but Sulaiman wondered if he could even light a spark in the constantly damp environment.

It would be an interesting experiment, now that Sulaiman thought about it, to see if he could light his sword in this envir—

His shoulder hit something hard and Sulaiman stumbled. The hood of the cloak fell down, hitting his shoulders as Sulaiman just barely regained his balance so he didn't fall into the nearby canal.

"Watch where you're — "

The angry complaint cut off abruptly as Sulaiman straightened and glanced to see what he had hit. It was a man clad in a set of metal armor so shiny that it had clearly never been used for its intended purpose. There was a sword strapped to his side and a mace slung across his back, each with an eagle carved into their leather holdings.

The man's lip curled in disgust as Sulaiman foolishly met his eyes.

"Oi monster," the man spat, taking a step forward so Sulaiman could smell the alcohol on his breath, "what do you think you're doing, assaulting a knight in broad daylight? Did your dirty parents not teach you how to respect your betters?"

Sulaiman took in a slow, careful breath.

He had to remain calm, no matter what vitriol was thrown at him.

"I apologize," Sulaiman said, lowering his eyes deferentially as he had done a thousand times before. "I did not intend to assault an esteemed person such as yourself."

"Are you calling me a liar?" The man's voice had a harsh edge to it that didn't mask the anticipation that lurked within it. He wanted a fight, wanted to push Sulaiman into a position that would give him the excuse to cut him down.

"I am not, sir," Sulaiman said deferentially and the man just scoffed derisively.

This would not be a situation that Sulaiman could get out of by sacrificing his pride and dignity, but fighting back in any way would cause everything to become even worse. He chose to remain silent instead of attempting to placate the drunken man's rage, mind racing as it tried and failed to come up with a method of escape.

"You know," the man said with a casual air of cruelty, "you could spend the next week in a cell for disrespecting a knight like you have — we don't take too kindly to monsters coming round causing trouble in the city proper."

The man casually rested his hand on his sword in a clear threat. Sulaiman cursed that he had left his sword behind — he had thought it would be a simple grocery run. He should have known better than to have gone unarmed.

The confrontation had gained a small crowd of onlookers, all of whom were staring at Sulaiman with unabashed distrust. There were a few armed folks amongst the crowd that looked like they wouldn't hesitate to jump in against Sulaiman should he breathe in the wrong way.

The air was tense, everyone still as they waited for Sulaiman to make his first mistake.

There was a sudden, shrill noise coming from down the street followed by a louder, deep boom of something exploding, and then a billow of foul-smelling gray smoke rapidly spread and obscured the street. People began to shout, some screaming in brief terror, and everyone's attention was captured by the chaos down the street.

Someone wormed their way through the crowd and grabbed Sulaiman by the arm.

"Run," the stranger hissed, pushing Sulaiman towards the nearest back alley.

Sulaiman wasn't stupid, he knew it could be a trap, but this was the perfect opportunity to get out of this sticky situation. If someone was hoping to lure him into privacy to beat him, Sulaiman wouldn't have to worry about a crowd of onlookers who could call the guards as he turned the tables on them.

The stranger pulled ahead of Sulaiman, leading the way as Sulaiman heard someone shout behind him, "The monster's running!" and the pounding of footsteps against wood. Sulaiman kept pace as the stranger ran faster, leaping over debris strown through the dark walkways. It was a winding path the stranger took, at one point leaping clear over a canal which forced Sulaiman to use magic to make sure he didn't fall into the sea.

They had been running for a straight ten minutes before the stranger began to slow, their labored breathing the only sound that Sulaiman could hear. Sulaiman himself felt a little tired, but still had enough energy in case the stranger turned out to be hostile. When they stopped fully, Sulaiman made sure that he was out of arm's reach and eyed the stranger warily.

The stranger had a dark cloth wrapping their head and face, and they began to pull it off lazily, letting it fall around their shoulders. He was a man based on the shoulders and hips, dressed in well-worn brown clothing that bordered on raggedy with the amount of patches sewn over tears. The first feature that was revealed was shaggy blue-black hair as the man shook his head before it was tossed gracefully over his shoulder. Rough tanned skin was wiped clean of sweat, revealing a face that was a few years older than Sulaiman's. The man's pitch black eyes twinkled as he grinned at Sulaiman and said, "I think we've lost them, brother."

Sulaiman went utterly still.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The man that stood before him was a Muloian, one of the few that Sulaiman could recall seeing in the past few years, and certainly the youngest one Sulaiman had ever seen. Sulaiman had never had the opportunity to speak with another Muloian before, as most of the time, the older Muloian's gaze remained firmly locked upon the floor as they hurried to their destination as if they dared not take up space in the world.

"Come on, it's just a few more minutes more," the stranger said, turning on his heel, "then we can relax."

When Sulaiman did not immediately follow, the man paused, cocking his head as he looked over his shoulder.

"What?" the man asked, frowning. "Are you deaf? I didn't think you were since you ran, but…" The man did a series of gestures that was apparently supposed to mean follow him, frowning deeper the longer that Sulaiman did nothing.

Sulaiman took a single step forward and the man's face broke into a lazy grin. "Good, good, brother, come along now, my friends are waiting for us."

A queer sort of feeling was curling around Sulaiman's heart as he reluctantly followed this strange Muloian man. Sulaiman had a guess about where he was being taken, but even though he dreaded the destination, Sulaiman kept following in the other's footsteps. They had taken too many shortcuts and alleys for Sulaiman to track properly and he would not be able to find his way back to his home. He would be risking encountering more hostile Kavendash citizens and thrust right back into the situation he had just escaped.

The dread settled fully in Sulaiman's stomach as the passed through what was clearly the residential district, and then they traded wooden decks for rough ground as they pushed through thin fences along the city's edge. They were near the edge of the bay, near the mountains, and more importantly, near the edge of the exhausted gold mine entrances that had once given Glinburn its name.

Sulaiman's feet came to an abrupt halt as he stared at what laid before him.

Cloth tents were pitched up against the side of the mine's entrance and along the mountain's steep surface, a series of dark symbols Sulaiman didn't recognize painted the side of each tent. Many more tents were clustered around what looked to be a large firepit that radiated an unnatural warmth that Sulaiman could feel from nearly one hundred feet away.

Everyone was dressed in clothing that was just as ragged as the stranger's, the many layers laid upon them thin, so thin that Sulaiman wondered how they would last the winter. Most people were gathered around the large fire pit, some talking in low tones, some repairing cloaks, others hanging up cuts of meat to dry, and another good chunk sat near an old man with a staff who seemed to be quietly speaking. Many people sported scars of some sort, or were missing limbs, but the overall mood of the camp wasn't as dour or depressed as Sulaiman imagined it would be.

Sulaiman would guess that he saw roughly fifty people milling about. The people that looked closest to Sulaiman's age were the only ones obviously armed and they were gathered near the entrance, their six faces awash with anticipation.

The stranger walked confidently into the Muloian encampment, clasping forearms with one of the young men who was clearly waiting for him and exchanging wicked grins.

"It worked like a charm," the stranger said, "cleared them idiots right out the street and gave me a chance to get this brother out of a sticky encounter." He jerked his head over his shoulder towards Sulaiman. The stranger's voice had carried over the encampment, the sound causing every single person to look towards the entrance.

Sulaiman stiffened as he was suddenly the center of attention, fists clenching. His magic sparked within him as tension overtook him, somehow more alert now than it had been when he was confronted earlier.

"Brother," the stranger said, turning towards Sulaiman once more, "what is your name and clan? I am Umar of the Saleen clan, known for their tactical brilliance, and this here is Owais of the Marwan clan, a clan of tin-heads who only know how to read."

"Oi," Owais said, pushing Umar's shoulder, "you don't hear me disparaging your ancestors, do you? Show some respect on my mother's name."

Umar laughed, "No harm meant, brother, calm, calm."

"I'll be calm if you give me that honey stick in your pack," Owais said, "and I won't even tell my mother about what you said."

Umar laughed again, throwing his head back. "Deal, Owais, I'd not know the end of it if your mother heard — my share of bread would be darker than the night."

The group of young men and women laughed, jostling one another as they teased Umar. But once the bantering was done, then they turned their expectant gazes towards Sulaiman.

Sulaiman's throat was dry, heart thudding loudly in his ears. They spoke so quickly, so confident in their own skin as they casually mentioned information about Muloian culture that Sulaiman had never heard of before. He knew there were clans, of course, but none of the texts had written down their names since the dead didn't need to be recorded when the victors were far more important.

"Are you mute?" Umar asked, cocking his head again. "I can go get Elder Zohaib if you need sign to speak."

The other man's voice was vaguely sympathetic, looking at Sulaiman like he was somehow defective, and anger curled in Sulaiman's gut. He did not need Umar's pity, to be spoken to like he needed to be treated like an idiot, to be gawked at like he was a strange creature that had stumbled into their midst.

"I'm Sulaiman Halsteed," Sulaiman said, his words clipped and voice low.

The group of young people went quiet and still at that, staring at Sulaiman with a mixture of confusion and shock. Behind them, Sulaiman saw that many of the older folks had paused what they were doing as well, frowning in his direction.

Then Owais threw his head back and laughed. His laughter caused most of the others nearby to chuckle as well, like Sulaiman had just said something so ridiculous the only way they could react was to laugh.

Sulaiman's nails dug so deep into his palms that he was sure they drew blood. He felt the air around him heat, his magic spiking as his breathing quickened. The book had said to close his eyes and count to ten when he felt himself going out of control, but Sulaiman did not trust any of these people enough to let his guard down. Perhaps it would be better this way, to have his magic at attention just in case.

"What'd you do to get a name like that?" Owais asked, wiping a tear from his eye when he recovered enough to speak. "It's so Conquerish."

"Maybe he shacked up with a nice Kavendash girl," one of the other men said, before mimicking Sulaiman's accent. "'Hello, my name is Sulaiman and I'd love have your stupid Conqueror name.'"

That inspired another peal of laughter from the group.

"I mean he has the looks that might get the girl," another said, "they might even be able to look past his unfortunate past long enough to get to the altar before abandoning him."

Sulaiman suddenly wanted nothing to do with these people, these strangers that spoke about him like they knew him, like they owned a part of him for sharing a heritage, like they had the right to judge him. It did not matter that Umar had not joined his peers in mocking Sulaiman, his expression troubled, Sulaiman wanted all of those imbecelic, contemptuous Muloians to shut their mouths.

"I got that stupid conqueror name from an orphanage," Sulaiman bit out, his tone acidic and sharp enough to cut steel, "the same stupid conqueror name they gave to every abandoned child picked up off the streets. So yes, I did it from a nice Kavendash girl, the fucking orphanage director."

His voice had risen in volume, with him nearly yelling the last word, but at least his voice didn't tremble or waver. Sulaiman was breathing hard, the air around him crackling with heat as he struggled to keep a lid on his emotions. It was harder than usual, and he didn't even know why these crass jokes got to him so much in a way that being called a monster never did.

It wasn't like he wanted them to accept him, didn't expect them to coddle him, but when Priscilla quietly told him of this encampment, Sulaiman had had the passing thought that he might want to catch a glimpse of the culture he would never have, sometimes picturing what it might be like to speak with them.

Never, even in his worst nightmares, had he imagined this would be his reception.

"You grew up in a Kavendash orphanage, brother?" Umar said, his quiet, disbelieving voice breaking the silence that had suddenly descended upon the encampment.

Sulaiman hated the way that brother sounded when Umar said it, a claim of familiarity that Umar had no right to. Umar did not know him, did not have a right to speak to Sulaiman so casually, did not have the right to sound so damn pitying.

The air around Sulaiman grew a fraction hotter as he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached. He could not lash out, could not burn everything down even though his magic begged to be released.

He felt trapped, unable to stay or leave because down every path laid people who would stare at him with judgement and derision.

Did he go back to the city where people hated him for something he couldn't control?

Or did he stay in a place where he was ridiculed for being what he had been raised to be?

Sulaiman was gripped with a sudden yearning to have his friends by his side, to have Priscilla's quick wit to cut down Owais's ego, to have Kavil's soothing presence to help calm Sulaiman's fire, to have Illnyea by his side because her loyal presence always made the things they faced less terrifying. Sulaiman so desperately wished for the comfort they brought him just by existing near him because knowing that someone was on his side, that someone did accept him no matter how odd or strange he was, was all he wanted right now. He would even settle for the old men or even the stupid platypus, and Sulaiman's throat grew tight at how pathetic that thought was.

The gentle sound of metal clinking against each other rang out, cutting off whatever Umar had been about to say next.

"Your tongue moves before your brain does, Owais," a quiet yet authoritative voice rang through the silence, "and careless words fall from it, ones that are not easily taken back."

Owais flinched like he had been slapped as an old man walked dismissively past the gathering of young Muloians.

It was the old man who had been by the fire pit. The noise had come from the staff he carried, a long length of shining black rock that had seven metal rings attached to the very top that chimed with every step. The man was stick-thin underneath the finest piece of clothing in the entire encampment, which was still nowhere near the quality that even Sulaiman was wearing at the moment. His skin was darker than the rest, covered in a layer of what looked like dirt if Sulaiman wasn't mistaken. Sulaiman could just barely make out that the symbols that had been painted on the tent had also been drawn into the dirt on the old man's wrinkled cheeks.

Though each Muloian had the same black eyes, dyed dark from living near orichalcum, somehow the whites of the man's eyes were completely black as well, sucking in all light until it was like Sulaiman was staring out into a starless night.

"I am Elder Zohaib of the Kader clan," the old man said as he came to a stop, the metal rings on his staff clinking together once more, "and I apologize for the offense you have been shown since coming within the reach of our fire."

Owais stared open mouthed at the elder, leaning forward as if he wanted to say something, but Umar smacked his friend upside the head.

It took a few deep breaths for Sulaiman to bring himself under control enough to speak without shouting and to force his throat to relax. He knew very little about the power dynamics within Muloian society, but almost every society valued their elders and respected their opinions. By the way that everyone was now staring at Elder Zobhaib, the man likely had the most influence within this encampment since he looked old enough to have lived before Muloi had been forcibly annexed.

As much as a dark part of Sulaiman wanted to storm off and leave, never to think of this again, a larger part of him was much more hesitant to completely sever ties when an olive branch was being dangled in front of him, a chance to seize a long forgotten childhood dream.

It was a temptation he could not resist.

"It was not you who offended me, elder," Sulaiman said carefully. He couldn't help but be so painfully aware of just how different his accent was, so polished and proper compared to the softer vowels and consonants of the elder. Another way that marked Sulaiman as different, even amongst a people that was supposedly his own.

Elder Zohaib's eyebrow twitched upwards, his black eyes completely unreadable. He dipped his head in acknowledgement after Sulaiman said nothing else.

"Yet," the elder said, "their wisdom is lacking to know exactly why they have caused offense and how to remedy it without causing further harm. It is shameful, their behavior, and I have not the words to express the depths of my disappointment."

The reprimand made the gang of youths flinch, eyes locked on the ground as their cheeks flushed.

Sulaiman said nothing because he truly didn't know what to do in this situation and thought that was the safest option.

Elder Zohaib tilted his head in consideration before saying, "You are free to go rest now, Sulaiman of no clan."

The title stung Sulaiman unexpectedly and he swallowed as he glanced away.

"But know that our fires are welcome to you," the elder continued, "should you care to sit besides us in the coming days. Laith, please help Sulaiman of no clan back to his lodgings before the sun dips much farther beyond the horizon."

An older gentleman stepped forward, a gnarled scar over the left half of his face, and grunted. Laith walked past Sulaiman without a single glance, flicking up his hood so it obscured his face and Sulaiman followed him stiffly.

Before they got far, however, Sulaiman briefly paused and looked over his shoulder, meeting the unfathomable eyes with the elder one last time.

"Have a good day, Elder Zohaib," Sulaiman said quickly, and then hurried after Laith.

They said nothing as they walked after Sulaiman told him the address and Sulaiman was glad for it after that disastrous conversation. It took nearly three fourths of an hour to make it back to the house, though Sulaiman would attribute most of that to them taking back alleys instead of the main streets.

Once the house was in sight, Laith melted back into the shadows and Sulaiman hurried to the door. It took a few tries to turn the key in the lock as his hands were shaking, but he managed to get inside.

Sulaiman didn't know what to do with himself now that he was back in the empty home, his shoulders heaving from his repressed emotions that threatened to overwhelm him now that he was alone. It took everything Sulaiman had to keep from crying in frustration. He needed something, anything to focus on that wasn't this horrible day, and stumbled to the table he had been at before this all began.

His fingers shook as he scattered his collection of pencils across the table and pulled forth a blank piece of paper, writing down the first thing that came to mind. Time was a blur to him as the pencil slid across the page, creating so many charts and tables that he needed several more pieces of paper. Several pencils died in the process, the heat from his palms steadily eating through the wood until they were unusable.

But Sulaiman had plenty, so he did not stop.

Sulaiman was still writing when there was a jangle of keys and he stiffened, the pencil smoking ominously in his hand. Only his eyes moved as he watched the door open.

Illnyea had just stepped through the door, cracking her neck as she entered, returning much earlier than expected. It was still early afternoon, and she hadn't returned before dark these past few days. A large bag was slung over her shoulder, the cloth straining under the weight.

"Hey, I had a long lunch today, so Sul—" Illnyea's voice abruptly cut off as she met eyes with Sulaiman. The lightness of her expression faded as she dropped her heavy sack before rushing over the side of the table.

Sulaiman didn't move as Illnyea carefully took the burnt pencil from his hand and placed it with the rest of the scattered pencils. She didn't hesitate to take his hand between both her palms despite the way it raided heat. Illnyea stared at the still oozing semi-circles of blood where his fingernails had dug into his palm. The burning pencils had prevented them from scabbing properly, but Sulaiman hadn't cared.

"What happened?" Illnyea asked, voice hushed. "Are you alright?"

He dropped his gaze to the paper.

Part of him wanted to pretend it had never happened, that it had been an unfortunately realistic nightmare he could put behind him and there was no need to burden Illnyea with these troubles when she was already so tired.

But this was Illnyea asking him.

For a long, long time, the only person that Sulaiman could rely on in the world was Illnyea. His only friend and confidant, the only person he truly cared about. Sulaiman would do anything for her should she need it, should she only ask. Illnyea was someone that Sulaiman would allow to call him brother, because she was his sister in every way but blood.

Slowly, haltingly, Sulaiman told Illnyea of what had happened to him.

Illnyea said nothing for a long time after he finished speaking, though her grip had tightened on his hand during several points.

"Do you want to go back?" Illnyea finally asked.

Sulaiman jerked his gaze up, but Illnyea's expression was open and honest, like no matter how he answered the question, she wouldn't judge him either way. He ground his teeth, looking away again.

He didn't know the answer to that question, a tangled mix of emotions within him that were too complicated to parse or put to name.

"Do you want to hear my opinion?" Illnyea asked when Sulaiman said nothing for several minutes.

Stiffly, Sulaiman nodded his head.

"I think you should go back at least once," Illnyea said quietly, "just so that you don't have regrets, okay? I know that you haven't had a chance like this before and you're not one to turn down knowledge if you can help. If you go and it doesn't work out, at least you can say you tried instead of staying up and night and wondering 'what if.'"

Sulaiman just focused on breathing in and out for a few more minutes, but Illnyea gave him all the time he needed to collect his thoughts.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice raspy and tight. "I'll try, for you."

"You're doing this for yourself, Sulaiman," Illnyea gently corrected, "and no one else. You deserve a chance to learn about your people's history through something more substantial than biased books, but it is your choice to pursue this — no one else gets to decide this for you."

"As always, Illy," Sulaiman said softly, using a nickname for her that he hadn't used in years, "you make more sense than I ever could."

Illnyea's smile was sad. "If I do, I learned it all from you — gods know I didn't learn that from my parents."

A rusty laugh from Sulaiman escaped, the tension releasing from him all at once as he leaned his forehead against Illnyea's shoulder. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the comfort Illnyea's presence brought him, the quiet sense of rightness that always filled him when she was by his side.

"How long is your break?" Sulaiman asked softly.

"It's only supposed to be an hour," Illnyea said, "but I'll send a messenger round to their shop to let them know that something came up."

"You don't have — "

"I know I don't have to," Illnyea said, cutting Sulaiman off without a care, "but I will be, so shut your mouth and resist your tyrant tendencies."

That startled a snort out of Sulaiman. "Priscilla is a bad influence on you, making you back talk to me far too much."

He felt Illnyea's eyeroll as it was an entire body movement.

"You say that like I wasn't sassing you before," Illnyea said, "and besides, you'd be bored if I never questioned you."

They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Illnyea had to actually go send the messenger, and then they went downstairs to fish out the last piece of ice candy that had been stashed away in the ice box. The sweet taste helped to chase away the leftover bitterness of Sulaiman's day, and by the time the others returned home, Sulaiman thought that he had almost regained his emotional equilibrium.

That was challenged when Priscilla approached him, her cheeks flushed with pleasure, and Kavil just a few steps behind her.

"Ta-da!" Priscilla said, presenting a book with a flourish. "Behold the fruits of my ill-gotten gains!"

"Don't say it like that, Priscilla," Kavil scolded, "you make it sound like you stole it!"

Sulaiman took it with bemusement at their theatrics, trusting that Priscilla had not actually stolen the book. The book's pages were obviously yellowed from age and it had the look , but it was in good condition.

But as he read the cover, he went still because he recognized the author's name.

The Tale From Those Touched By The Hero's Shadow by Harden Kelvin.

Harden Kelvin had been Adita Comollo's dearest companion, one of the few people that had been by her side throughout her life. He was a constant presence in Adita's biography, and this exact book had been mentioned in the final chapters as one of the sources one could read if they wished to learn from a direct source.

"Apparently that Peligran fellow really liked rare books," Priscilla said excitedly, "and this is supposed to be a true account from the sidekick of that hero you like!"

There was a lump in Sulaiman's throat as he tuned out the sound of Priscilla's explanation of how she had convinced the noble to let her take it.

Overcome with emotion by lacking the words, Sulaiman set the book aside and lunged forward, wrapping Priscilla up into a hug. He was squeezing too tight based on the small squeak that escaped her, but Sulaiman tried to channel all the words he couldn't say into the gesture.

After the initial surprise, Priscilla hugged him back, pulling Sulaiman somehow even closer, and it was exactly what he wanted. He breathed in deeply and slowly, and could only smell a vaguely citrusy smell wafting from Priscilla's hair.

"Guess you like it, huh," Priscilla whispered. "I gotta get you books more often if this is the thanks I get."

Sulaiman pulled back to see that Priscilla was staring at him with a soft expression, not a hint of teasing within the satisfied curl of her lips.

"Kavil got you something too," Priscilla said, the warmth of her hands sliding away, "though it's not nearly as good a present as mine."

Kavil huffed as he glared at Priscilla, but the expression changed into a smile as Sulaiman looked at him.

"I got you an apple pie," Kavil said, gesturing to the table. There was a hopeful light in Kavil's eye and Sulaiman was feeling sentimental enough to hug him as well, curling his arms around the smaller man. Kavil let out a similar squeak that Priscilla had, but melted into the touch.

"Hey!" Illnyea said behind them. "You can't start hugging each other without inviting me!"

Priscilla laughed as Illnyea rushed forward with a profound pout, and then Sulaiman was the center of a huddle as each of his friends turned towards him. He was crushed on all sides, but Sulaiman's heart was the lightest that it had been all day, and he couldn't find it within himself to complain.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.