2404 Dalfa 24, Reshpe

The galor squirmed under Nelnifa's inexperienced hand. She clenched her jaw and tightened her hold. Morka wasn't kidding when she said galoris were expecting firmness from their owners. Knowing that, it's a miracle the overseer ever approved of Nelnifa driving the cart herself.

"It's to ward off the merchants' suspicions," Morka had said when Nelnifa asked her if it was a good idea. "It would certainly raise a question if both the driver and the ride changed."

Nelnifa had to give it to Morka. She hadn't even thought of that.

So, rising from bed earlier than ever, Nelnifa picked her way to Morka's shed. Today's schedule included walking all the way from the Zoriago-Orayta border since she had beaten the dagrine carts to it. As soon as she got into the overseer's shack, Morka had already loaded her cart to the brim with baskets.

Nelnifa remembered her stomach turning at the thought of these products being sold for way less once more. Then she shook her head to clear those thoughts. After today, she would have an answer as to why it was happening and what she could do to stop it. Hopefully, after today as well, she would find something worthy to divert the people's attention from the Imperial palace.

Now, the bumpy road carved around the low-level side of the mountain rumbled below Nelnifa. Sitting in the coach area where Morka once sat, she was grateful for the thick undergrowth shielding the pockets of scalding sunlight punching through the small gaps in between branches and leaves.

She pursed her lips, ultimately getting particles of sand into her tongue. She sputtered and wiped her hand against her mouth. The scarf securing her hair shifted with the motion, reminding her of the disguise she once adopted to find out the price of the baskets. The merchant's face was still imprinted in her memory, and if it's him again, she'd give him a good pummel when she could.

That thought made Nelnifa pause, her hands slackening around the reins. Only the galor's huff brought her attention back and grip the leather straps tighter to avoid letting the animal think it's got the freedom to do anything it wanted.

Still, she found it hard to believe she was even having these thoughts to begin with. A month ago, she wouldn't have dreamt of hitting a srilla against the wall if they ever dared to try and suck her blood. A month ago, she wouldn't have thought of approaching people out of the blue and initiating conversation. And certainly, a month ago, she wouldn't be able to look them in the eye and talk to them without her tongue twisting.

Ketha had been right in her assessment of Nelnifa. She had really changed. As such, she had always viewed Ketha as the never-observing kind as opposed to her detail-oriented nature. But now...how could she miss the changes happening to herself?

Nelnifa frowned, the corners of her lips feeling heavier than usual against her face. What drove her to change? Was it the people? The desire to clean up her mess? She didn't have the time to think about it further because the road sloped down and the familiar set of trees, bushes, and scenery from the beach crept into view. The galor seemed to have noticed it too as it began slowing its steps down, careful of not overturning the cart with Nelnifa in it.

She gripped on the reins, the galor completely in control of the descent this time around. She wasn't Morka and the animal knew it. It's a miracle the galor hasn't acted out or did anything subversive. These creatures were smarter than Nelnifa gave them credit for.

Once they reach the ledge where the undergrowth cleared and the land widened enough to be able to accomodate two caravans side-by-side, Nelnifa yanked the reins, stopping the galor in its tracks. With a grunt, she slipped off the coach seat and fixed her scarf over her head. As soon as she felt like her recognizable purple hair wouldn't slip out anytime soon, she headed to the back of the cart and clicked the lock's latch open. The door whined against its hinges as it slid down, revealing the baskets inside.

Then, she set to work, pulling the stacks off the cart and setting them against the silt forest floor. It wasn't too long of a wait and another caravan appeared on the horizon, meeting the direction Nelnifa had gone. The dagrine pulling it had a cute golden coat—a strange color even from the ones hailing from the plains of Rabante. She squinted at the cart behind it. Wasn't that big but it looked like it could fit the baskets just fine.

Nelnifa pretended to be busy with checking the baskets' quality while waiting for the cart to approach her. She kept an eye on it through the underside of her own cart, noting how large and high up its wheels were. Was the owner scared of brushing against the ground with every bump they encountered? Seemed like it.

When the wheels creaked to a stop a few steps away from where Nelnifa was crouched, two pairs of leather boots dropped into the ground with a silent thud. "Are these for sale?" a feminine voice asked. Nelnifa's fingers paused in brushing sand off a basket's interior. A woman? It was rare for women merchants to pass by Desara.

Nelnifa chucked the basket back to the stack she got it from. Once again, as if she had jinxed it, her palms began sweating. She was wiping her fingers against the hem of her tunic when she appeared from behind her cart to meet the merchant. "Hi, there," she made sure to smile as sweetly as she could, hoping it wasn't a grimace. "Are you referring to the baskets? Yes, they're for sale. How many would you like?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at the stacks in front of her. Nelnifa did the same thing for a different reason. Dark hair in a strict bun pulled against the woman's head, exposing her high cheekbones and her small forehead. A perpetual frown sat on her face, making the glint in her brown eyes look more sinister.

Unlike the merchants dressed in colorful robes, the woman sported a simple tunic and trousers, complete with a set of ankle-high dark boots. If she's anywhere near a water sprite, she'd know wearing boots with all the sand around them would just be annoying. So, the woman wasn't from anywhere near Desara. Or if she was, she lived in the high places, in the mountains where it's more Fimrio than Zoriago.

What was she doing out here in Aresving, then?

"I'll take them all," the woman said after a few seconds of silence. "How does two mid-sized kalta dryde for each one?"

Nelnifa knitted her eyebrows, not bothering to hide her apprehension. From the corner of her eyes, she spied a strange red strip of cloth tied around the woman's arm. It bore some kind of symbol Nelnifa hadn't seen anywhere before. From the looks of it, it might have been used for coding people or something like...a uniform?

That meant this woman belonged to an organized community. What kind of community was it and why go all the way to Desara to buy things like baskets? Nelnifa hasn't gotten to the fisherfolk deliveries but she couldn't erase her intuition that the same thing was happening. Besides, considering the woman had bartered for the same price the previous merchant had forcefully bought from Morka, whoever these people were, they're used in getting products in that range.

Nelnifa flashed her winning smile at the woman. "I'm sorry," she said. "But due to operational costs, we have decided to raise the price to about five large kalta dryde. I hope it won't turn you away from buying from us."

Without missing a beat, the woman shoved a bag of versallis into Nelnifa's hands. "Will that be enough?" she asked.

The bag weighed heavily against Nelnifa's palm. She gave it a little shake and a set of bulky thunks rang inside. Slowly, she undid the straps shutting it close and peeked into the darkness of the bag. Her eyes grazed over the familiar hexagonal sides jutting from the shadows. A small gasp flitted out of her lips in shock. She didn't even need to know what kind of selme they were at this point.

"T-this is more than enough," Nelnifa blurted. The woman's smirk was smug, as if she knew she had just won a match of something. "Thank you so much! The baskets are all yours."

The woman jerked her chin towards her cart. "Think you can help me?" she asked to which Nelnifa nodded and replied with fervor, "Absolutely!"

Soon, the muscles in her arms hurt for hefting stacks upon stacks of salvia baskets higher than she intended to. Ugh. When she gets a cart of her own, she'd never make it this high. The woman loaded a stack for every three Nelnifa deposited inside. How unfair was that? Then again, the woman just paid so Nelnifa should cut her some slack.

When the woman's cart door snapped close and the lock clicked shut, Nelnifa wiped the sweat glistening in her forehead, checking if any strands of her hair had escaped from her scarf. Apart from the few locks plastered against her forehead, there was none.

"Have a safe journey," she said to the woman who boarded her cart and took hold of her ride's reins. Nelnifa's ride stayed put on the other side of the road.

The woman flicked the reins and the cart lurched forward. "Make sure to never breathe a word of our transaction to anyone," she said, ignoring Nelnifa's wishes for good travels. "I will come to you if our other assets prove to be incompetent."

Was that...was that a threat? Nelnifa's throat dried up against her will. Instead, she ducked her head and clasped her fingers in front of her. "Of course," she said. "I'll keep that in mind."

Then, just like that, Nelnifa was left alone in the road. The woman's cart turned around and disappeared to where it came from, its shape becoming smaller and smaller as it disappeared into the horizon. Nelnifa turned to the galor and began to unbuckle the cart's straps around its short body.

"Go home to Morka," she said to it. The cart's handles slammed into the ground in a weak thud as she dropped the load off the animal's back. She and Morka agreed the overseer would come back for the cart as soon as Nelnifa was done with her mission. "You know the way."

The galor's large, beady eyes blinked at Nelnifa from both sides of its head. Then, with a huff, it turned and began galloping back to Orayta. Nelnifa blew a breath and tucked her scarf over the lower half of her face. Without much ado, she went the opposite way, going after the woman's cart.

If they could pay a random merchant a whole lot of selmeis as nonchalant as they did, this organization was plenty rich. As such, Nelnifa had to see what they were like and where they're bringing Desara's products to.

She took a higher incline, aiming to see from above where the woman's cart went after the brief time Nelnifa gave her as a head start. Down below, past the shade of canopies and the huge swathe of beige sand, the cart thundered along the nonexistent road towards...nowhere.

Nelnifa clicked her tongue and moved to follow as closely as she could, hopping off huge boulders blocking her way and swinging over tree branches when she could. The cart lumbered farther and farther away, passing the thick mountains it could have disappeared to if it was aiming to hide or lose a tail. Where was it going? Apart from the sea, the beach, the cliffs, and the huge stone markers dividing Orayta and Aresving, there wasn't anywhere to go to. Would the cart survive the climb up those cliffs, if ever?

The mountain's road began sloping down, joining the mountain and the sand to one, flat expanse. Nelnifa dashed forward, her footsteps thudding against the sand, propelling jets of it behind her. One problem, though. She and the cart were out in the open, with no forest to hide her presence and her intent of tailing it. That...made everything more complicated than necessary.

Nelnifa squinted, the sun's bright rays conflicting against her vision and bearing down against her form. Sweat had transformed from a lazy trickle down her back into a steady current, soaking through her tunic and her scarf. Every breath she took rang in her ears, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. Her muscles screamed for respite, a sharp, jutting pain already blossoming on her side, but she pushed forward.

Almost there.

The cart shifted towards the stone markers. Nelnifa's forehead creased. It's...going to Aresving? What for? Was their community there? If so, why hadn't Nelnifa or the Potentate Consort heard of it? What were the trade inventories saying about these transactions?

The stone markers came closer and closer, their shadows clawing for Nelnifa's feet. The cart rumbled forward, its skewed direction setting it to collide with the nearest slab of stone standing in its way. A wanstine slab. Nelnifa's eyes widened. The cart's going to crash into it. Her steps lengthened, her breaths coming in shallow gasps of terror and urgency.

She opened her mouth to scream at the woman driving it to steer away, to adjust her course. She was too far away. Her voice wouldn't reach that far. The golden-coated dagrine slammed snout-first into the stone. "Hey—!"

Her cry dried off in her throat , her eyes wide enough to catch all particles of sand flying in the wind. The slab's surface flickered and seemingly liquefied, wrapping around the dagrine's snout like it was made of jelly. Soon, the dagrine continued pulling the cart into the slab, the slab eating more and more of it. The woman driving it barely flinched as the stone marker swallowed her and her ride whole.

The stone didn't spit them back out.

Nelnifa blinked. Then blinked again. She walked around in circles, scratched her eyes every now and then. What in Umtir's name happened? Why did the stone marker swallow a whole cart? It's not spatially possible. Unless...

A glinting realization took root in Nelnifa's mind. Was that the reason why no one had been able to track where Desara's trademarks were going? Was this why the baskets and perhaps each and every product never make it out of the territory?

Something was on those markers, someone powerful enough to bend the space to make room for a lot of people. They're rich, no doubt buying all of Desara's products for a very cheap price and selling them at sky-high values to increase their profit. They're fripping parasites worse than srilla.

This was ridiculous. She had to put a stop to it.

The air shifted. With her absorbed in her rage, she didn't see a black-clad figure step out of the pocket of glass-like shimmer in the atmosphere. Then, something silver flashed in her eyes.