At last, society; or at least the dregs of it. John and Yael head towards what at one point was a grand city. Large hive-like structures sticking out of the sands. Many half demolished from some great battle and the constant decay of time. Smoke billows from those who hide in the corpse of a lost generation. It doesn't matter what world you are on, it all looks the same after a hundred tons of explosives.

  They are not two steps in when a swarm of outstretched hands surrounds them. Most are Rautt. Children and elderly who have been living off scraps. Begging for just a bite more.

  “Away with you, filthy rodents.”

  Yael has no sympathy to give. Swatting away at anyone foolish enough to think he might be generous. John was far more empathetic to their plight. Unfortunately, Yael made sure to take all the food in his bag before they entered. Well aware John would “accidentally lose” a few rations. Forcing him to stare into their desperate eyes, and keep walking.

  “Did the Rautt build this place?”

  “No, they just live here. The original owners are long gone. Knights rarely travel here, assuming them to be empty. They might as well be.”

  Even in a place as torn apart as this, life moves on. Water is the most important thing in a desert. The Rautt have done everything they can to fix that. Rain catchers dot the area made from everything from metal to hide. Crude mesh netting is placed all around to catch the fog and dew. Complex distilleries work to remove the poison from well water. An excruciatingly slow process. Food is even harder to come by. Small cages full of large beetle creatures about the size of a chicken are being fed whatever broken grains and old trash the Rautt can’t eat. Anything even vaguely soft is gathered to be used for beds. Everyone is just trying to survive that one day more.

  “I believe that is a merchant.”

  John points to an elder Rautt protecting a small, mostly intact building.

  “What supplies do we have left?”

  “Little to nothing of everything. Even the Lezzan blood is dry. It will be costly to replenish our stores.”

  “Remember to follow the routine. Just like we practiced.”

  The Rautt merchant perks up at the sight of new, and hopefully wealthy, customers.

  “Friends, friends, I see you have travelled far and long. Come, come. I have all you need. May I interest you in a bladder of green juice?”

  John whispers at Yael.

  “What’s green juice?”

  “It comes from a cactus. A good laxative, little more.”

  “Right. No, thank you. Just-”

  “Of course!” The merchant interrupts. “You have too refined a taste for something like that. This red juice is more fitting for such fine and distinguished fellows.”

  Before John is pressed a goblet full of a dark red, viscous liquid that smells like a slaughterhouse.

  “Ehhh. More of your blood Yael?”

  “I wish. This has been diluted with clay. Would taste of dirt and lack vital nutrition. Worthless to me.”

  The merchant’s whiskers twitch at such insults to his wares.

  “I see, I see. You are truly a cut above the rabble with a discerning eye. I bring you my finest products. Yellow Juice, half price, what’d you say?”

  A bladder filled to the brim and smelling terribly is brought up. Yellow liquid drips slightly from the side. John looks to Yael for answers.

  “You do not want to know. Though, you can probably guess.”

  “Disgusting. All we want is some water.”

  The merchant forces a short, boney finger into John’s face.

  “No water, only juice. You take or you leave. No hairs off my back either way.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “No juice, only water. We’ll pay whatever you ask.”

  “You not have enough for pure water.”

  John gives a subtle wink to Yael. Yael responds by opening up one of their smaller bags.

  “Don’t do it Yael. We don’t have many left.”

  “Without water we shall perish. It must be done.”

  The merchant swings his gaze between them.

  “What have you?”

  Yael shifts his head all around, making sure there is no one watching them. Then he carefully removes a small bag from his pack and, with the delicacy of a surgeon, removes a single yellow Saprophite stone.

  “Give that here.”

  The Merechant reaches out to grab the stone, only for Yael to pull it far away.

  “Not yet. We need water.”

  Reluctantly, the Merchant drags a large, dried gourd the size of a pickling barrel from a hidden corner.

  “I give you good deal. Whole gourd for thirty Sapro.”

  “We don’t have that many.” John protested. “How about ten?”

  “Far too low. What you have?”

  “None of your business.”

  Yael pushes John aside then shakes the bag.

  “Twenty four. Which is far more than a single gourde is worth. I offer half, no more.”

  “Twenty two, no less.”

  “Not on your worthless hide. We will buy elsewhere.”

  “You go then. Find others sell water for twice my prices.”

  “Why you little flea ridden worthless-”

  John gets between Yael and the Merchant, keeping them at arms length.

  “Hold on, hold on. Just, give me a moment alone with him.”

  Yael turns away, muttering his angers below his breath.

  “Look, my friend there hasn’t had anything to eat for a while and he's pretty testy. So how about we help each other out here? We’ll take the gourd and some rations. Nothing fancy. Some hard biscuits, that bottle of preserves, a few bags of dried beetle meat and in exchange you get the whole bag. Every Saprophyte we have. How's that?”

  The Merchant thinks to himself, feigning the decision as a difficult one to make.

  “Deal.”

  “Great. Yael. Give him the bag.”

  “The whole bag? That is far too-”

  John raises a piece of dried beetle meat. Yael instantly stops. Following the jerky with his eyes as John waves it back and forth in the air.

  “Alright already, just take them.”

  The bag flies briefly before landing in the Rautt’s hands. John and Yael quickly take their goods and walk away as quickly and nonchalantly as they can.

  “A fine purchase my friends. Be back soon. I give you special good customer discount.”

  Soon John and Yael turn a corner, losing sight of the Merchant. A few corners more and they are confident they can no longer be heard. Then they laugh. Lightly at first,then hard.

  “He really believed that garbage. I must admit I doubted your technique. No more.”

  “Learned how to haggle from my old man. He once got a tractor for an apple pie and a half full bottle of scotch. How many of those rocks we really have?”

  “Three hundred or so. Keep up that acting skill and they will last us a long time.”

  “Hey, be straight with me for a second. Is a few gallons of water and some stale crackers really worth a bag of those stones?”

  “Today, yes. Before the Crimson Empire arrived all this would have cost one, maybe two Sapro. They are far harder to come by now.”

  “Well then lets just keep the rest deep under wraps. I’d like to still be eating next month.”

  “Do not tell me the obvious. Now find some place to sleep. I wish to leave this graveyard at nightfall.”

  Among the crumbling buildings they find a tower, or rather half of one, still standing high. This was once an important building. Giving a view of the whole city and beyond. Now abandoned, occupied for but a few hours so weary travellers may rest safely. John takes a moment to enjoy that view. Wondering who it was that was seeing then what he sees now. A soldier on a long watch? A rich man enjoying his spoils? A King surveying those below him in both reality and metaphor? Who can say now. What is obvious is that this city was far larger than John had thought. This was once a great place. How could it have gone so very wrong?

  Far into the horizon, John spies the answer.

  “Yael, I think I see another Chariot patrol. I thought you said they don’t come here anymore.”

  “They do not. The Knights will pass by, the Rautt will hide away in their holes and the Knights will leave thinking this place is still dead. Get some sleep.”

  “What about the big one?”

  “The what?!”

  Yael rises from his half slumber. Sure enough, far off and surrounded by Chariots is a much larger vessel. Long and thin, with a pronounced Crimson Crest across its side, a great black Axe clutched in the jaw of a Drak’aan. On top of it were a dozen Knights and one more. A Knight that shines sitting upon a throne.

  “We must flee this place.”

  “What? What’s happening?”

  An explosion erupts from afar. The Solar Barge firing from a large, underslung weapon. Each bolt worth a hundred of those staffs.

  “We have to-”

  “Flee, now. Or all will be lost.”

  John watches as a tower, not unlike the one for which they reside save being much closer to the attack, is struck and crumbles into pebbles and sand. He wants nothing more than to stay, yet he flees all the same.