Private Tales Shadow of contempt; The ancient's heart.

[White Swallow]

Lord Blackwell
They all yearned for the desert.
The many ruins, graves and temples. Shadows of cities ancient and long forgotten.
There was always a reason why it was such.

But it was still good pay.

It's been some weeks since the departure from Elbion. Stocks and morale were high. And Perhaps, the White Swallow yearned from something different as well. It will be a good rest for both him and his men from the constant fighting that happens back home in the Seret lowlands.

Together they were ten soldiers and just as many porters. But they were not only that, they were battle-hardened and knew the stars of this land by heart.

 

[Lord Blackwell]

A pair of eyes squinted through sandy binoculars. Once removed, the man behind them continued squinting towards the dunes, as if he would find something if he continued looking hard enough. Even if he had been here for weeks he was still no closer to figuring out what they were doing out here. His objective was unclear, and so he followed those who knew where they were going. He suspected they had to be at least somewhat close to their destination, whatever that would even be.

He removed his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took a sip from his canteen. Until now he didn't even think to inquire about what they were going to be doing, but the heat was finally getting to him after almost a year of being in the desert.

"Sir Swallow, I hope you don't mind me asking where we're going?" He looked to The Swallow on his right, hoping for a direct and clear answer.

 

[White Swallow]

The White Swallow shrugged in silence.
»A rumoured secret treasure thought long lost and forgotten, « Count Boswell was barely able to get off his camel as he passed his contemporary and the hired blade. »Even I don't know precisely what it must be, «

»In the Westlands they speak of a device of doom,« calmly, yet sharply filled in Nadim Ibn Adil, an equal to the White Swallow in rank and the second leader of this minuscule troop of soldiers.

»Ah, « he boastfully chuckled »Your superstitious locals. Probably a ruse hiding heaps of gold and silver.«

 

[Lord Blackwell]

Blackwell turned ahead, his curiosity piqued by the doomsday device theory. He had enough money back home to last his family generations, but something that could cause widespread destruction could be the worst thing to happen to this world. Unless it's harmfulness was exaggerated in his mind. "A device of doom, you say? Certainly wouldn't want that falling into the wrong hands. Do you think it's magical in nature?" Blackwell shifted on his camel, getting used to the beast's gait.

 

[HotepseAken]

"There are many Dooms which might be visited upon Men," HotepseAken intoned; he seemed the least uncomfortable with the heat, though that could have been entirely thanks to the supernatural charms worn about his wrists and neck, "Secrets lost to the desert are often best left that way."

He had guided the group previously to a small cave, replete with a few canopic jars hidden away and a meager spring of water. It was a Dunerunner post, but he didn't share this information with his company. He had agreed to bring his knowledge of medicine and history along on the condition that the Swallow was not to question him.

There were things more dangerous than magic to evaporate seas lost in this desert. Hotepse hoped he could spare these kind humans a fate he had only heard retold to him, if they did blunder into somewhere far in excess of their ability.

His ears twitched. He heard, a few miles off, the sand churn. There was something large in the region, though what it could possibly be escaped just the off sound of a dune being upended.

He didn't bother sharing the find; no need to worry the Humans unless it started to grow closer, or he heard something else worth adding. If his change in ear orientation had been noticed, a handwave would be his only answer to questioning. For now.

 

[White Swallow]

»Pah, rumours shmouzers, I did not expect to have so much superstitious folk,« Count Boswell fanned himself.
This desert heat was growing hard on him.
Yet the soldiers and the Anaphite in his company barely broke a sweat.
He looked a bit bewildered at the company. »Well? Chop chop, let's move, no treasure is going to wait for us.«

Nadim approached The White swallow as the troop in unison began to lead them ahead. The two exchanged a few glances.

 

[Lord Blackwell]

The old explorer's eyes shifted across the desert, he had learned to expect an ambush at any moment. He forgot how unsettling the desert could seem at times, and just how empty. Sometimes he thought he saw the sands shifting, but it was always a trick of the mind. No animal, much less one large enough to disturb the sands that far away could possibly exist in these barren lands. He considered their doctor and guide's words, and noticed his ears twitch. "If they're best left alone then why are searching for them? Aside from adventure's inherent worth of course."