The guard stood awkwardly opposite the Priests, her eyes darting to the Black Lion to the side, who stood within the shade, the darkness almost swallowing him, but his presence bore upon them like a great darkness. The fine noble had yet to step away, no doubt enjoying wine from the inner complex, allowing their fingers to grow more eager to loosen their pouch strings. 

Unfortunately, it would be difficult to send the Priests away the second time, when they had already spent so much time buying so many uthurs from the outer complex, and to offend a Brother of Black Mountain wasn’t going to do her any favours. 

‘I dare suggest, I do not get paid enough for this…’

The inner complex was much like the outer complex, with the various pinks and purples all about, the sandy gold buildings, but unlike the outer complex, the pinks were pinker, the purples were purpler, the sandy golds, sandier, golder. The details within the buildings had been carved by geniuses, more intricate, the elongated letters formed various prayers, sayings, stories, and paid homage to various cultural artefacts Adam had never heard of revealed just what kind of clientele this place preferred to serve. 

“We need whatever is providing that chilly wind,” Adam said, focusing on what made this place far better than the outer complex, not all the aesthetics, but the comfort which the magic within provided for him, as well as the towers which channelled the wind towards them.

A meekly confident figure stepped forward, a young handsome Aswadian man, adorned in the finer clothing than commoners, his cuffs braided, but not quite as fine as those of the higher classes. His skin almost bronze, his eyes a sparkling brown, almost golden, his smile bright as the sun, and the metal braces and shin guards, and the blade at his side revealed that he was no simple attendant.

“Brothers, welcome to the Fountain of Fragrance. I am Jamal, with ten years of experience, a hundred years of joy, and it is I who has the privilege of assisting you.”

Adam leaned in to whisper into Dunes’ ear in Aldish. “Do they get a small cut of whatever we buy?”

“A small cut, yes.”

“Then let’s make sure to give him a reason to smile,” Adam said, chuckling lightly, rolling his shoulders. 

The fellow smiled, doing his best to push away his thoughts about them speaking in another language, his eyes still bright, his hands clasped together with an eagerness that suggested he was happy to make additional gold today. 

“We are here to buy some Amira’s Rose, and, if there are other fragrances we enjoy, we may procure them too,” Dunes said.

“Yeah,” Adam said in the Aswadic tongue, flashing a wide smile. “Jamal, this is your lucky day. We’re here to buy a lot of uthur. I’m a young man who made too much money too quickly and now I can’t seem to hold it within my grasp, for so much gold slips through my fingers, especially when it comes to spoiling my wife and children.”

Jamal flashed a wider smile, tasting the gold int he air. “If you wish spend your gold for your wife and children, it is our fortune to grant you such a wish. If you wish to buy Amira’s Rose, I will escort you to Lady Farah, who has permission to sell such a perfume, though I must warn you, Lady Farah chooses to sell the scent only to particular clients.”

“If she doesn’t want to sell it to a Brother of Black Mountain, that’s fine by me, our gold will be welcome in other cities,” Adam replied simply, flashing that sort of charmingly sharp smile that could prick one’s skin. 

“Adam,” Dunes whispered. 

“I’m just saying,” Adam replied. “I might not be a noble, yet, but that doesn’t mean… I don’t think I’m allowed to say that, actually.”

“Please,” Dunes replied. 

“I’m saying I won’t say it, but it is crazy to think that we can do business with the Grand Duchess of the North, the Duchess of East Port, and we’re probably going to see the royal family of Aswadasad soon, but because someone can sell a scent, suddenly she’s too good for us?” Adam asked, raising a brow. “Tell me how that makes sense?”

“It’s about courtesy, respect, and history,” Dunes stated. “We have done little business, and though I have heritage here, you do not.”

“I have heritage!” Adam replied.

“How?”

“My grandfather is the Mad Dog, my grandmother Flame Brand, forced away by how many of the Orders? My granduncle is Butcher Marmak, although, let’s not mention that…” Adam cleared his throat, realising what a bad idea it was, since it could be seen as a threat, or worse, Butcher Marmak could have killed a few of them for acting up in front of him. ‘He did only kill nobles and their guards though, right?’

‘Did he say Mahmak?’ Jamal thought, having only recognised a few words of the Aldish tongue. 

The woman wore a sea of black, her cloth rippling with every movement, her face bronze, her eyes hazel, lined with silver, her lips sparkling with the same silver. Her demeanour was gentle but authoritative, almost motherly. A young woman stood opposite her, in her late teens, adorned bright blue robes of the finest of silks, a scarf that was almost liquid silver, both paling in comparison to the golden chains which dangled over her chest, glittering with every gem one could reasonably get their hands on if their family came from wealth. The faris beside her was adorned in full plate, turning to face the two Brothers, glaring at them through her visor, but stopping upon seeing the figure all in black. The faris leaned in to whisper into her charge’s ear, who turned to glance towards the pair of Brothers, and the Black Lion. 

“Noor bless you this day, Mo,” the woman said, who would have to pay respects to the Mo of Jabal Adh Aswad, even if he were not escorted by one of Al Asad Aswad. 

“Arya bless you this day, Lady,” the Brother replied. 

“Are we in your way?” the woman asked with a gentle smile, half teasing the Priest. 

“No,” Dunes replied, feeling a gentle strand of hostility from the woman, though it was not exactly unheard of, for the nobles followed Lord Noor much more zealously than Lady Arya, though it was their ego which turned it into a bother. 

“Nice sword,” Adam said to the figure in all silver, feeling the glare upon his skin. “Magical?”

“Kal Saffiya, show him your sword,” the Lady said, flashing a wide smile towards the pair. “It would be misfortune to deny a guest of Black Mountain to see a blade.”

The faris passed the blade to Adam. It was a longsword, though slightly shorter than Thunder’s Triumph, and the hilt was made of pure silver, flowing out like a wave. The magical within the blade tingled against the half elf’s fingers. 

“What does it do?” Adam asked, bowing his head respectfully as he returned the blade.

“All my knights are granted Greater weapons to defend me with,” the Lady said. “I am Lady Lena Sayfaswad.”

“Mo Dunes, of Black Mountain.” Dunes, hearing the name, understood why she held such an ego to speak so arrogantly towards him. 

“Ah,” Adam replied, slowly nodding his head. “Fair. I’ve assigned Jonn with a Greater Enhanced sword since he’s one of the few assigned to protecting my children, although, right now he’s with us. I have been thinking about what kind of standard Greater Enhanced weapons to hand over to the guards, not just those in charge of protecting the children, but those of the business. Is it common to hand over Basic and Greater weapons? I assume so, since they’re so prevalent?”

Adam’s musings caused the Lady and Dunes to glance towards him, since he spoke with the slightest hint of arrogance when it came to magical weapons, and spoke as though a Greater weapon was too lowly to defend his guards.

“Lady Lena Sayfaswad… Blackblade?” Adam asked, thinking upon the woman’s name. 

“Are you not from Aswadasad?” The woman replied, of the rude fellow who had not introduced himself. 

“No.”

“I can tell.”

Adam’s brow pulsed, the half elf smiling slightly, and Dunes’ eyes slowly trailed towards him. “Pity, isn’t it?”

“It is,” the woman replied, standing taller, prouder, as though she was an Iyrman. “I am Sayfaswad. Blackblade. We are one of the branch families from the royal line. My grandfather is one of the Faros of Jabal Adh Dahab.”

“Oh!” Adam replied, raising his brows with surprise, slightly impressed. “You’re a somebody, huh?”

“A somebody indeed,” the Lady replied, narrowing her eyes towards him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Executive Adam of the United Kindom,” Adam replied, flashing a wide smile towards her. “You might know my grandfather, the Mad Dog?”

The woman’s eyes grew wide in alarm, taking a half step back away from the half elf, while the guard, stepped forward, though did not reach for her blade. “It is illegal to style yourself an Iyrman!”

“I’m not an Iyrman,” Adam replied simply. “It’s complicated, but essentially, the Mad Dog is my grandfather, my brother and sister are Iyrmen. My grandmother is also an Iyrman, Flame Brand.”

“Who?”

“How do you know Mad Dog and not Flame Brand?” Adam asked, blinking. “Flame Brand is more famous here, isn’t she?”

“The Mad Dog is related to Butcher Marmuk,” the woman replied simply.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. He kills a lot of nobles, and so did my grandfather, so…” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “At least you’ve heard of my granduncle.”

“What ridiculousness is this?” Lady Lena pointed towards the half elf, her eyes darting to the Black Lion, who would need to obey at this moment. “Arrest this fool at once.”

“He has committed no crime,” Uli replied. “It is true he is the grandson of the Mad Dog.”

The woman took another half step back, her eyes glaring at the Black Lion, then towards the Brother of Black Mountain. 

“I mean, either all three of us are lying, or there is a Brother of Black Mountain and a Black Lion of Black Lions escorting a random guy,” Adam said, his tone holding a particular heaviness, his lips almost forming a smirk. 

“Who are you?”

“Like I said, Executive Adam, High Alchemist of the United Kindom. You might know me as the Crazy Father, the guy that killed the Grand…” Adam paused, trying to recall if anyone would know that. “No, wait… Vice Commander of the Thousand Hunts, right? They call themselves High Garden, but back then he was in the Thousand Hunts.”

The woman tried to recall if she knew anyone by that name, and though she remembered the trouble, she wasn’t sure what it was about. 

“Aryashukhur,” Dunes whispered, his voice exhausted, catching the woman’s eyes. 

“Hey! Let me show off in front of Lady Farah so she can sell us some Amira’s Rose for your wife!” Adam half exclaimed towards the Mo. “Trolling the nobles is just a bonus.”

‘What did he just call me?’ Lady Lena thought.

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My heart is at ease.