At Hero's Bay

Sand Whispers

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐩𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐬?

𓄹 𝐘/𝐍 𓄼

The western Irie dunes were said to be formed by the bitterness of the old gods—the dryness of their malice forming together in raging, harsh, and unforgiving conditions. The sands were vast, where Y/N considered that those ancient titans—the Amisian's supposed ancestors—were not so wrathful as there were beings who could withstand and live within their ire; the Irieth Amisians.

Unfortunately, Y/N Skaraeith and Krow Vulnir were not like them.

As she trudged through the valley of sand, Y/N dragged the back of her hand against her forehead to wipe off the sweat clinging to her brow. Although her armor and attire were slightly damp, they didn't abate the heat as she had hoped; airing out the stuffy heat under the fabrics was practically impossible. Krow did not appear any better; his entire face from the neck down was red and a bit swollen. He reverted to taking out his frustrations against the heat by kicking haphazardly at the sands with each step. He lets out a groan every so often when he feels even more sand beginning to sneak inside his boots.

The path to the Dagan domain—the Irie region's main capital—was an arduous journey. And it certainly didn't help that the mercenary they had captured wasn't exactly adequate company. Nor was he even bothered by the heat, already accustomed to the sun's garish and blazing radiance.

This mercenary—whose name they learned was Oryosi Giljor Zylna—was a Desolate Dog who doesn't bark much. He was surely named after Oryos, the third-born son of the ancestral head-clan leader, Dagantu Qhyros, who was revered for his fearlessness. But he didn't exhibit any of his brazen traits; he was practically a coward as he couldn't even look Krow in the eye.

The mercenary would've rather dealt with his own people rather than face whatever King Amwren Ramses Skaraeith had in store for him after spying on his first-born daughter. Let alone, the Wild Star. Y/N was admittedly impressed by either his desperation or ignorance; who in their right mind would spy on the Wild Star and expect to survive? But, Y/N straightened her repose, remembering there were reputations to uphold.

"Head farther north." Oryosi directed the two in front of him, yet earned a back-handed smack against his cheek.

Y/N merely blinked widely as Krow pulled back his reddened hand, "Shut up."

As directed, Oryosi nodded wordlessly before turning the other cheek, spitting a tooth into the sand.

Despite her own rancor she had against the mercenary, Y/N found the backhand a bit uncalled for. Unwilling to make much of a fuss about Krow—who was evidently in a foul mood—Y/N mustered what she could of a glare pointed at his back. She wasn't totally on par with treating the mercenary amiably, but did put herself between him and Krow—just in case Krow decided to throw another fist if Oryosi did so much as breathe too loudly.

Oryosi, as they both had learned, was unusually obedient for a bought spy. Even while they were still in the White Hollow, he had no such complaints to spew as Krow struck him with a surge of green psionic energy, demanding to know who hired him through gritted teeth. Y/N didn't look that much different, instead, she kept her distance and her curiosities at a paucity. She didn't look like she was quite ready to hear the truth—that was understandable. But for Krow's sake, Oryosi kept silent, pressing his trembling lips together and averting his eyes filled with terror.