It was a particularly lazy afternoon, humid as ever, and the only place Kisha deemed worthy of taking a nap was under a date palm tree. She curled up against its bark, and as the seconds passed, she began to nod off, the occasional brush of the cool breeze against her skin as soothing as a bedtime story. 

She was a warrior, as agile as an acrobat with a sword, dancing through the King's soldiers before striking them down one by one. Each of their faces were frozen in horror as they fell to the ground, for never had they expected a —

Someone nudged her. "Sleepyhead."

Kisha scowled, her eyes still closed. There went her peaceful afternoon. She groaned, squinting up at the nuisance of a boy above her. Along with a devious smile, Wes sported a khaki shirt and pants, a worn out belt hanging loosely around his waist and an empty scabbard at its side.

She straightened, frowning up at him. "Where's your sword?"

"I lost it during the raid," Wes replied, crouching down next to her. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent against his caramel-brown skin, but his tired smile never left his face. Noticing her frown deepen, he chuckled, lifting up a hand to mess up her frizzy hair. "Don't sulk little Kishu, I'll ask Karo to make me a new one."

From under the folds of her dress, Kisha brought out her sheathed dagger, turning the hilt to face the sun. She ran her thumb over the ribbons of silver that twirled up the hilt, all the way down to the crescent moon engraved on its pommel, the carvings glimmering in the sunlight.

For all her talk of fighting, Wes had been her only opponent, and quite a skilled one at that. He'd been as passionate as her when it came to joining the raiders, and once he reached seventeen, Karo had gifted him a sword with a hilt coated in gold. Unbeknownst to Kisha's father, Karo had forged a dagger to match Wes's sword, the carvings identical but the hilt coated in silver instead. He'd told her that the dagger fit her, for with her small size and speed, even the largest man would be at a disadvantage.

"The new one had better match mine like the last one did," she said, giving Wes a pointed look. 

"Of course it will, I'll make sure of it." He chuckled again, but his smile had disappeared. Kisha's eyes widened, realising that there were millions of things that could have gone wrong during the raid. Before she could speak, he stood up, adjusting his belt. "Well, do you want to come with me to Karo or would you prefer to sleep?"

She was up before he finished his question. "Let's go." Grabbing his elbow, she pulled him forward. "And tell me about the raid on the way."

They could see the Fasden market up ahead as they trudged through the hot sand. A calm silence hung over the city as the heat of the afternoon sun dominated every open space. Every now and then, they'd see children running over the roofs, their shouts ringing through the air for a moment until they noticed the glare of one of the guards stationed at each alleyway that bordered rows of box-shaped buildings.

Beyond the market stood the house of the Chief, the house that Kisha's father guarded every night, and the house that Kisha's mother cooked feasts for every day. Its dusty red dome peaked up towards the sky, the structure a blend of red against white, oozing extravagance, but not as much as the castles and palaces in other parts of the kingdom.

Stalls sheltered by a spectrum of coloured cloth jutted outwards into the streets as they entered the market. Mountains of spices, piles of vegetables and grain greeted them, followed by the pungent aroma of chaat masala.

Wes was a fidgeting mess by her side, constantly tugging on his belt buckle. He hadn't said a word about why this summer's raid had irked him, describing it as a success instead.

They weaved through lanes lined by stalls, finally coming to a stop in front of a particularly menacing looking one, with weapons covering every inch of it. Under the little tent sat two men smoking pipes, each of them as burly as the other.

Wes cleared his throat, "Greetings Te Jertyn, greetings Te Daicon, where might Te Karo be?"

"Right here, Wesfri."

Daicon barked a laugh, his mismatched eyes twinkling. "Always know when you're needed, don't you, Karo?

"Yes, yes I do."

Karo nodded at Wes and Kisha in greeting, reserving a small smile for Kisha before addressing Wes. "Come to order a new sword?"

"Yes please, Tejro. And if it could be the same make as last time too?"

Karo's smile started to look a bit forced. "Of course."

Karo was perhaps the only man in Fasden who, inspite of being in his late twenties, was respected by all, no matter the age. He'd earned himself a reputation, manufacturing weapons used in the King's army, and now by the raiders. He was tall and lanky, his hair on the longer side unlike men like Daicon, Jertyn and Wes.

"Say, if Wesfri hadn't misplaced his sword, we'd have a lot more than fifty million," Jertyn piped up, his voice dripping with more spite than mockery.

Daicon guffawed, settling himself comfortably in his chair, his eyes on Wes' flustered face.

"Fifty million was ten times more than we expected anyway," Karo said coolly.

Having a feeling that Wes wouldn't want her to start a fight, Kisha kept her mouth shut, choosing to stare daggers at Jertyn and Daicon. Daicon's smile hadn't dropped, and Jertyn responded with an indifferent shrug.

"Well," Karo's voice cut through the tension. "Wes, are you accompanying us to Naqil?"

Kisha's ears perked up. "Can I come too?"

"Only if your father says yes, Kisha."

She snorted. "The day that happens will be the day it snows."

Wes reluctantly agreed to go, and Kisha planned to find a way to join him. This wouldn't be a dangerous trip, nothing could go wrong. If she could sneak herself into the group, by the time her father realised she was gone, she'd be miles and miles away.

"Wes," Karo addressed him again. "Will you join me inside?" As Wes walked in and Kisha followed, Karo shook his head at her. "Kisha, stay with Te Jertyn and Te Daicon."

The two burly men smirked at her, sending chills down her spine. Kisha had never thought of them as threats, but there was something about the malice in their eyes that made it clear they were far from trustworthy.