This was the farthest I’ve reached outside the oasis. Escaping wasn’t the goal anymore; it had been when I was a kid. These days, it was more of a habit, a challenge, you could say. Finding different ways and creating new routes was a fun way to pass the time. It was also an act of defiance against my father’s strict rule.

  Sneaking outside our tribe’s only haven wasn’t easy. Sentries made routine patrols, and with the current mild weather of spring, no mirages formed, making the horizon atop the many watchtowers look crystal clear.

  But I was nothing if not sneaky. Bypassing the mud walls—a deterrent to stray animals, not real beasts—was the first step. A small opening, I had created years earlier, made that easy. After that, going undetected under the watchful gaze of the patrols was also not that hard. I just had to memorise their routes and be extra careful not to be seen by any warriors—those had keen eyes, a perk from their Purpose. Thankfully, Bracelet wielders were rare.

  The most difficult part was the spirals. I had failed many times before at this part—being spotted, then sent back home. Every spiral housed a tribe’s Elder—men and rarely women who reached a high rank in their Purpose. Spirals acted as the first line of defence against invading forces, protecting the normal people residing behind them. They were also kind of a military academy where future warriors went to train.

  Anyways, the tribe had four spirals for each clan. They were distributed in a way that made them surround the oasis from all sides, leaving almost no blind spots—almost. Well, a mountain couldn’t be considered a blind spot, especially since it was a bit steep and acted as a deterrent against invading forces. However, if you took into account that I was using it to escape the oasis, rather than to attack, then it could be considered such.

  Don’t get me wrong—the Red Mountain still had routine patrols on it, but it paled in comparison with other vulnerable flat spots. Ultimately, what led me to choose it was that no Elder called it home.

  Here we go!

  I poked my head over the boulder I was hiding behind. The two guards responsible for this part of the mountain had just passed, giving me the opportunity I was waiting for.

  I had chosen this spot previously, knowing that Khawud and Ghadur were responsible for it. The two men were notorious in the tribe for their tardiness, and since they served under my father—which meant I wouldn’t get an earful—made it the best place to breach the encirclement and advance beyond my best…

  “Yolom,” a harsh voice sounded behind me.

  “Ah!”

  I whirled around, jumping back as my dagger appeared in my hand. But what faced me was no monster. Instead, it was a tall man with darker skin than the average tribesman, which was already in the less light shades of brown.

  The man had a bulbous sack strapped to his side and was wearing the usual tribe’s garb—baggy pants with wide, colourful fabric belts, a loose-fitting camel hair shirt, and an Iqal to top it all. The shirt’s sleeves were long, hiding his Bracelet, but you could tell he had one from his bladder sack—those contained liquid metal.

  “Ah… Teacher,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “I see you had the same idea as me—taking a stroll and enjoying the lovely noon breezes atop the Red Mountain.”

  Teacher Amidus—one of my father’s best warriors—didn’t look amused, but through interacting with him for years, I knew he was a big softie inside. He just rarely showed it.

  “A Khahandar warrior ought never to lie,” Amidus said before staring me down. I thought he wanted an apology—both for lying and skipping our lesson, but I didn’t care. He was going to punish me either way, so I’ll take it on my own terms.

  Sigh

  “If only you took our lessons as seriously as you took your antics, you’d turn into a great warrior. But alas, fate has it that the chieftain’s son prefers this to learning. Either way, I’ll refine you into a warrior whether you like it or not, as this is my duty. If only—“

  I tried to keep myself from rolling my eyes as Amidus went on with his rant.

  “How many?” I said after he finished.

  Amidus raised an eyebrow before catching on. “How many rounds around the oasis?” Amidus asked in return, before answering himself. “None.”

  That took me a bit back.

  Did I make him that angry? But it has been a whole month since I last skipped training. Maybe I should’ve been a bit more respectful, I thought, straightening my back as I dreaded what my Teacher was about to say.

  “I would’ve made you run five rounds.” My eyes bulged a bit at the number as it’d take me till evening to finish.

  “But it seems the latest Bracelet shipment has arrived, and your father has managed to secure you one,” Amidus said before giving me a faint smile—a rare sight from the strict tutor.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  My heart skipped a beat before it immediately started to hammer inside my chest, beating wildly as it pumped blood through me.

  “No way…” I blurted out.

  As the chieftain’s son, I had lots of privileges. But getting my hands on a Bracelet at just fifteen years old was… extremely unlikely.

  “I thought I wouldn’t get one till I reached my 16th cycle. What changed? Don’t get me wrong, this is the best. But… why?”

  Getting a Bracelet at 16 was still considered rare and privileged. Most people didn’t get to own one, living most of their lives without it.

  Amidus’s eyes seemed to dilate as he stared into the distance.

  Sighing for the second time, he spoke. “I don’t know, kid. There’s… change. However, that’s not the time nor the place to discuss this. Go to your father, he said he wanted to inform you personally.”

  I gulped at Amidus’s dark tone, but didn’t enquire any further as I knew he wouldn’t share when he already said no; plus, I had my ways of knowing.

  But that could wait for later. Now, I’ll go and get my gift!

  A gift that probably came with strings attached, knowing my father.

  Before I descended, I heard Amidus muttering something about giving two patrolmen—Khawud and Ghadur—who didn’t seem to notice our conversation, a light beating.

  Well, it sucks to be them.

  As I descended—nearly tripping and falling a distance that would’ve left me an unrecognisable pulp—I reached a plateau. A place that I’ve taken to like throughout my different treks, as here I could see the whole oasis.

  Centred around a large lake were palms that bore large bundles of small golden flowers, looking like sparkling chandeliers when the sun shone on them. The mud and red brick houses were packed together with small streets and alleys winding through them. In the middle of the lake was a small island with the chieftain’s home and office, like a pearl in the middle of a crown.

  “Home.”

  The rest of the distance to the oasis went without any mishaps. Although my nails got filled with sand coming through my sandals, nothing I wasn’t used to.

  In front of me lay the main gate, filled to the brim with coming and going caravans. Merchants coming from other tribes, camels with lots of goods on them, and a few foreigners here and there. Everyone was wearing the usual tribespeople's garments, but with different colours and fabrics, making one’s eyes go crazy with colours.

  I knew standing in line would take me an hour before I could enter, although the idea didn’t even cross my mind. I just passed the merchants, completely ignoring some of the side eyes I got, then I jammed myself into the crowd when I got close to the gate.

  “Fje fwjenf kdkd!”

  A guy with a thick Southern accent yelled something at me, but I completely ignored him, opting to continue my push forward. Although I was surrounded by adults, I still managed to reach the gates by using my strong build and tall height, a trait I had taken from my father. Some people even believed we had Elgore blood in our veins, and I wouldn’t blame them, as most of my family had… bigger than average builds.

  “Brother, I see that your adventure was cut short,” A guard standing at the gate said as he noticed my arrival, saluting me with a fist over his heart when I drew closer.

  Due to our tribe being one of the richer ones, we had enough finances to outfit all the tribe’s guards with heavy armour.

  The man had chain armour that enveloped all his torso, visible under a thin shirt. His legs were also protected with a skirt of chain that reached his knees. Leather greaves, pauldrons, and vambraces protected his shins, shoulders, and forearms, respectively. He wore high leather boots and had a metal helm—with lots of tiny holes—to top it all.

  It must be sweltering under all of that.

  Having tribe guards was a privilege. Not that many tribes had them, relying on their young men for outside protection and their elders for inside disputes.

  My tribe, the Khahandar tribe, hadn’t been that rich. But when the Holy Empire fell a decade ago, many trade routes changed, making our oasis a major point of passage for merchants. That let us become the envy of many, which was dangerous in the Blacklands desert. Thankfully, my grandfather handled it well, using connections and a generation of brave young men; he solidified our position as a prominent player. Although we were still considered a small tribe, with us owning only one oasis.

  “Hey, Khaman.” I returned the salute before shaking his hand firmly. “Yeah, I cut it short today. It was all on my own; no one told me to come back. All through my own will.”

  A small smile formed on Khaman’s tired face. “Of course, brother.”

  “Anyways, I’ll be taking my leave. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “Always, brother.”

  Entering through the red arched gateway, the bazaar spread in front of me. A wide straight line that reached all the way to a bridge that connected to the Chieftain’s home.

  Spices and other smells assaulted my nose as my eyes took in the different displayed goods—from fabrics to copper work and everything. Men and women walked the streets, haggling with vendors. The place had a lively feel to it, a bit chaotic to some, but for me, it was perfect.

  “Yomon!”

  As I passed by a perfume shop, a woman called out to me. I didn’t recognise her at first as tribe women were covered from head to toe with cloth for modesty, but after a second, her voice and posture gave her away.

  “Sister Khamala, what a nice surprise,” I greeted, putting my hand over my chest.

  Kamala was the daughter of a wealthy merchant from our tribe. She usually took classes with the other important kids at my place—a way for the newly forming bourgeoisie to strengthen their connections and solidify their hold on power.

  Khamala returned the greeting with a hand to her heart. She then took off her face covering, making the vendor behind her jerk back in shock.

  I almost face-palmed at her move—traditions die hard, and many people would take offence at that.

  Although the affluent were starting to dump lots of our traditions in favour of following the Hanshins—which I wholly agreed to—that didn’t mean they disregarded them all. Especially since your day-to-day tribe’s man would take offence at that, and you didn’t want that to happen, as offences in the tribe’s culture—even light ones—were taken very seriously.

  “Aha! Kamala, my stupid young sister. How many times have I told you to keep your covering outside?” I bluffed on the spot, not wanting the situation to escalate. It seemed to work, with the merchant averting his gaze while shaking his head in annoyance.

  I took hold of Kamala, wanting to take our conversation somewhere else, but she seemed to have another idea. “But I’m not your sister,” Kamala said with complete innocence, seemingly unable to understand the situation.

  Why is she acting so stupid all of a sudden!

  “Are you lying to me, Chieftain’s son?” The merchant said with a grumpy voice; the underlying threat in his voice was clearly visible.

  Oh, shit! I thought as I saw the man, balling his fists as he glared at me.

  Even though I was the Chieftain’s son, your average tribesman didn’t care. Most of them had no understanding of consequences and would easily give their life to what they believed was a just cause. I knew he wouldn’t kill me for a light offence, but a beating wasn’t off the table.

  Although I can probably defeat him, I don’t want to offend anyone. Especially since I don’t know to which clan he belongs. But from his accent, he doesn’t seem like a local. That’s weird. How did he know me then?

  Before I could finish my thought, I saw the man reach for the hilt of his sword. I acted on instinct, pulling Kamala back while drawing my sword.

  But things only got worse. Kamala barely budged, resisting me as she tried to hold me back with both hands. I immediately kicked her while bearing the merchant’s sword on mine.

  Clang!

  The sound of steel rang in the middle of the market, high above all the busy chatter.

  An assassin! was my first thought before he pushed me toward Kamala.

  Kamala punched me before jumping back and blending into the crowd that was forming around us in a circle that cut the flow of people.

  I held my side—the place where she had punched me—while trying to avoid a sideways sword slash. I barely evaded it, but the man didn’t relent, following with a downward strike with a stoic face, unlike the annoyed face he had just a second before.

  The flat side of my scimitar met his. I tilted it in a way that made his sword slide down mine before hitting the guard. I succeeded in the block, but a pain flare from my side made me almost drop my sword. At that moment, I realised—without even looking down at my gut—that Kamala hadn’t given me a simple punch, instead she had stabbed me with a hidden stiletto. The pain and the man’s continued pressure drove me to my knees.

  His sword continued to advance until it was only a finger’s width away from my face.

  That’s how I die, huh?