Chretien clambered up some crumbling stone steps, his robe brushing against the sand. He had arrived at the Yard Market, representing the SaHraa'di. A large man wearing rags gave him a nod and let him through. The Yard Market was a neutral trade point run by scavengers or "Free Folk" as they would prefer. Because the desert nomads were almost at war with the Sanguinus, each faction may have only sent one of their people. A couple more scavengers bowed to Chretien, momentarily pausing their search through scrap. The trading area was situated in the Dead City, in a felled building with a courtyard. Here, Chretien could hear people bartering away, a couple dozen in number.
Ropes were tossed and examined, someone banged a hammer against a blade, and the occasional Free Folk brute would walk through, reinstating the peace. Chretien glanced at some rust on the man's scrap armour as he continued on his way, the smell of iron dispelled.
A well-built craftsman wiped something, then turned to Chretien.
"My sand warrior friend."
Chretien stepped in closer. "Considering our positions, you'll call me Lord."
"Apologies. My lord."
A bead of sweat slipped from his bald head and down his dark skin.
"...It's good to see you Arne."
Chretien laughed, not able to keep the facade up any longer, and extended his arm to him. Arne accepted, chuckling as they embraced. The sand warrior continued, smiling.
"I am told Kloe owes you her life. Not trying to steal her from me are you?"
Arne rubbed his chin with a rough hand, grinning.
"Mmm I don't know, if I had a mother, I'm sure she would have called me beautiful."
They burst out laughing. They messed around long enough for someone waiting in line to start complaining.
"Umm, are yall done yet?"
Arne made a face and turned to his would-be customer.
"A thousand apologies, we were discussing important business!"
Chretien raised a bushy eyebrow. "Is your 'work' finished?"
"Not yet friend..."
The sand warrior stepped in closer, looking behind Arne's table, to what lay by his forge.
"I heard you bought a staff for the repair. He will love it..."
Chretien put a hand on his shoulder and sat down. Arne gestured away his waiting customers. He sighed and looked at the sitting SaHraa'di, who in turn stared off into a daydream. Arne snapped him out of it.
"How is she, by the way?"
"Oh. Kloe? Yes, she is back to teaching already."
Arne grinned while looking out into the market.
"You know Chretien. Maybe I should steal your woman, with how many customers you've been losing me."
The craftsman offered his hand to Chretien, who chuckled as he got up.
"They say you hoisted her from a sand storm grave."
"Yes."
The sand warrior danced his fingers along wood.
"And the Sanguinus bodies? You didn't think to mention it."
Arne, realising his mistake, continued.
"Swallowed by the sand no? I...didn't think it relevant."
YOU ARE READING
Heretics And Sheep
FantasíaMarcus struggles to make ends meet in a crumbling household and a dangerous town, but regardless, he loves his life. It is his version of normal and he will stop at nothing to defend it. When the world he knew is ground into a fine sand, he uses th...
