Princess of Balbadd (Magi x Reader)

Safe from Slavery

"Keep doing your best, and be patient with yourself."

~*~

"Well, alright! We appreciate the help. Catch you guys later!" says Sinbad with an upbeat grin as he pats the dungeon treasures strapped on the snake villager's back.

The other villagers carry what treasures they can and the pack of them head back towards New Tison while Sinbad waves them off.

"Are we not going back too?" you question.

"I've got one more stop to make since we're so close."

"And where is that?"

"There is a Tran Village further south. They said I could come back any time to learn more about their god, Solomon."

"And just how long will that take?" you inquire with a strained tone.

Ja'far pulls a map out of his nomadic outfit's sleeve and unrolls it. He points to the different locations as he shows, "We're approximately here and New Tison is back here." His finger then slides to the bottom of the map. "This is where we last met the Tran. It's mostly desert in between. It should be a straight shot."

"So we're looking at a long trek in the hot sun," you deadpan.

"You can go back to New Tison with the villagers and wait for us there if you'd rather," offers Sinbad, "Then you'll be able to help with trading the extra food on the boat for their resources and have the ship ready to sail by the time we get back..."

"Are you kidding?! You want me to do your job while you go galavanting off?!" You grab Sinbad's arm, ready to head south. "I'm sticking with you! Besides you said you were going to learn? I would like this opportunity to learn too!"

~*~

So.

Hot.

...

And dry.

It feels as though you've been trudging through dry sand longer than the Moore of Misery. At least there you were less likely to dehydrate. Your feet sink with each step; sore thighs throbbing. Your only solace was this sand wasn't trying to suck you in. It packed under each step, leaving an endless trail from where you had come from. The buoyancy of a new adventure had long worn off. Sinbad had plenty of time to tell you about the Tran and what he already knew of Solomon. Now as the sun was at its apex, all of you talked only sparingly to conserve moisture.

Instead of using your metal vessel for your looks, you manipulate your magoi to grow a large flower into a parasol, compliments of the rare local foliage you had passed. It at least provides shade from the scorching sun. Occasionally, you make the effort for it to spritz some mist to help cool the party down.

Everything is smooth, continuous, uninterrupted. So it's strange when you see a stripe in the sand, perpendicular to your trajectory. When closer, you can differentiate two lines with camel hoofprints, spanning from the east to the west. Ja'far kneels down to inspect them. You lean over his back, trying to see what he sees. At some points the grooves are thicker and some sections have four instead of two lines.

"These came from wheels," Ja'far concludes, then looks towards the direction the hoofprints pointed. "They're heading towards Katarg."

"A cart all the way out here?" whistles Sinbad. "Couldn't be..." His eyes grow big. "...slave traders?"

Masrur's body goes rigid, his eyes turning dark.

Ja'far ponders, "If so, it's quite a haul, judging by how deep the wagon tracks are."