The young physician rubbed sleep from his bloodshot eyes and looked out the window of his first-floor accommodation at The Bumpy Axe. It was close to the royal physician's residence and Bhallar's workplace. 

When Bhallar had first arrived at the capital to start his training, Sharre, wanting to keep the boy close, had made arrangements for him to stay at this very inn. Thus, when the young man had returned to resume his duties, he had decided to rent the same room he had occupied during his training period. 

It was practical and economical, especially since the royal physician needed him at his disposal at odd hours of day and night.

Having spent most of his adolescent years in the capital, Bhallar knew central Qulsairis like the back of his hand. While still a student, he had shared his now single-occupancy room with another young boy who was training to become an architect. The boy, who went by the name of Almat, now lived on the western border of Qulsairis. He had made a name for himself as one of the best architects of the new kingdom. 

Almat was Bhallar's only friend. Having lost their fathers at a young age, the two had hit it off instantly and formed a bond that neither took for granted. 

Bhallar massaged his throbbing temples and thanked almighty Ra, the Sun God, that it was the seventh day of the week. It was a day dedicated to rest and rejuvenation as per the law. 

As he had been doing lately, today too, Bhallar was planning to pay Almat a visit on their day off. He recalled how his friend had mentioned missing his favorite dessert, Quokka, a central Qulsairis specialty, the last time he had met the latter. 

Bhallar, deciding to surprise Almat, made his way downstairs after a quick bath. Intending to request the kitchen staff to prepare the dessert if he couldn't find it on the 'today's special' board that hung at the inn's entrance in an attempt to attract hungry patrons, the young man approached it. 

However, before he could catch a glimpse of the board, a broad-chested man bumped into him, making him lose his footing.

Thank almighty Ra for the strong arms that broke his fall and steadied him. "Watch where you are going, or you might get hurt!" the strong-armed-man warned. And without accepting Bhallar's gratitude, left. 

The first-hand blinked at the crowd accumulated just outside the inn; he stopped a server and asked, "Why are there so many people at the announcement board?"

The said notice board usually displayed advertisements for everything on sale: from camels to grains. In the ten years that Bhallar had spent there, first as a student and then as Sharre's first-hand, he had never come across the kind of commotion he was witnessing now. 

The server sighed. "An hour or so ago, the pharaoh's guards stuck a 'wanted' poster there. Since then, these ruffians-" he pointed at a large group of fierce-looking men occupying his usual spot, who, oblivious to their surroundings, were immersed in some kind of serious discussion. "-have been sitting here and disrupting our peace!" the man finished, and whiping his brow, he left to tend to his choice customers.

The way they were dressed told Bhallar that they were bounty hunters. It made sense that they were interested. After all, a 'wanted' poster by the royal guards must have come from the royal household. That would mean that the prize on the poor fugitive's head would be considerable. 

Bhallar prayed for the fugitive's soul to find peace and proceeded to the 'specials' board.

"My, my, my! What a beauty!" A young bounty hunter no older than him observed. 

"Though it doesn't say anything here, she must have been a concubine. I mean, look at those eyes. I wonder what she did to get herself on this poster." Another added. 

"Must have messed around with another man, I guess."

"Except the pharaoh, only one other man is allowed inside the royal harem, Philitis. You know that." The older bounty hunter wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Amten. The man is a God in my eyes. The power he has... if I could just borrow it for a day... " The younger man's eyes swam with lust. 

"Don't we all wish that, my boy?" The older sighed wistfully. 

The younger bounty hunter blushed, "I guess we do. I heard that-"

Bhallar's ears had perked up at the mention of Tutuamen. Despite his closeness to Sharre, he had never heard of this person called Amten that the hunters were talking about. The young physician found it odd. In the spur of the moment, he decided that the specials could wait and walked over to the two men. "Excuse me, Sirs. I couldn't help but overhear your discussion." said the physician truthfully. 

"And?" The older bounty hunter quirked his brow. 

"I was just wondering who this Amten person is?"

The bounty hunter cleared his throat and bent down to Bhallar's eye-level, "You don't look like one of us; why should I tell you who he is, hum?"

Having spent all his energy on nothing else except learning and understanding the intricacies of the human body and putting his knowledge and skills into becoming the best physician in Qulsairis, Bhallar hadn't paid attention to other basic skills like communication. Needless to say, it left much to be desired. 

Bhallar staggered back and shook his head vigorously. "It's fine. Forget that I asked. I am sorry." 

It was more important to stay alive, Bhallar figured. For what good would information be if he was dead?

He turned to leave but was rudely pulled back. 

"Hey, Philitis, say, he looks familiar, doesn't he?" A muscular arm tugged on his waist, plastering him to the older bounty hunter's side. 

Philitis nodded, "Yes, he kinda does." the younger agreed and lifted the physician's chin, staring into his light golden eyes. 

"I have been staying here almost my whole life. You must have seen me around." Bhallar offered truthfully, attempting a polite smile.

He failed. 

"Are you sick? You look like you want to puke." The kinder one asked. 

Bhallar nodded. 

A deep low laugh reached the physician, who had his eyes locked with the young bounty hunter. 

"Please. I am truly sorry." Bhallar gulped, staring into the young hunter's green pools. 

A naughty smile tugged at the young man's lips as his eyes darted towards Bhallar's left ear and returned to his face, "Curious," he muttered and then winked at the first-hand before stepping away. 

"Sefkh, he looks harmless. Let's not waste more time on him." Bhallar heard the pale green-eyed young man state with a soft smile on his face.

A split second later, just as quickly he had been trapped, he was released. 

However, before the two walked away, the green-eyed hunter cupped the base of Bhallar's neck and whispered in his ears, "The head of the royal guards. By the way, if I were you, I would cover myself better."

Before the physician could comprehend what had happened, the bounty hunter, Philitis, was gone. 

Bhallar took a few minutes to calm his heart and let the fear of being maimed (or killed and left for dead) subside. His hand instinctively moved to his birthmark and stayed there as if he had forgotten that it was there. 

Had he imagined the hunter's eyes linger over his birthmark? 

Then wondering why the green-eyed man had suggested something like that, Bhallar unconsciously stepped outside, bringing him right in front of the poster that had created the fuss.

His younger sister's face stared at him. 

That couldn't be, could it? 

His sister was dead. This had to be her doppelganger...or someone who looked a lot like her. 

It was at this precise moment that the bounty hunter's words came back to him; Bhallar's eyes fell on the mark below the golden-eyed girl's left ear. 

Bhallar's eyes widened. He reached for the picture and touched the mark: three tiny stars forming a triangle.

Mayeen. It was her. It was really her. She was not dead! 

Unadulterated joy, like lightning in a clear desert sky, rare and unexpected, struck him. Tears rolled down his dusky cheeks. "Mayeen, you are alive!" he whispered reverently, but as soon as he widened his purview, his heart slumped.

The poster with the royal seal itched into its top left corner declared that his sister was a fugitive. No name. Just that she was wanted dead or alive, and the prize on her head was a hundred thousand gold coins. 

Why would the royal household want to pay anyone a hundred thousand gold coins, an amount enough to feed the entire army for a few years (at least) to capture a nameless girl?

It didn't make any sense.

Had Mayeen never mentioned her name, or did they think she had lied about it? 

He glanced at the picture again; holding the golden eyes that stared at him emotionlessly, he asked, "What in the world did you do, sister!?"

[Chapter word count: 1525
Word count so far: 3616]