A Guest in the Summer Kingdom, pt. 2
Garrick walks a fine line between belief and restraint, wondering if the evil that he hunts has already begun to seep into the city’s cracks.A Guest in the Summer Kingdom
The deal was done. Garrick said little during the exchange, letting Asir handle the subtleties of negotiation. That was what the fixer was for, after all. Garrick had no patience for the endless back-and-forth, the unspoken barbs, and the veiled threats that passed between men in these lands. His world was simpler. More direct.
Now, as he wandered the narrow streets of R'asha alone, his thoughts drifted to the task that had brought him here. The evening sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the sandstone buildings. The crowds in the market had begun to thin, but the heat still clung to the air, like it had forgotten how to leave.
He could feel the weight of the city pressing in on him - the clamor of voices, the scent of spices, sweat, and smoke. But more than that, something else lingered here, something unseen. A disturbance in the very air itself. Garrick’s hand brushed the hilt of his sword beneath his robe, a familiar weight he hadn’t had to use since entering the Summer Kingdom.
Magic, he thought. The word alone curdled his blood. The mere idea that it had returned to this place - the very kingdom that had once prided itself on being "cleansed" - was an insult to everything the Second Order stood for. Magic was a plague. A stain that had nearly destroyed the world once. And the Second Order was the cure.
Garrick was a believer. He had no doubts about the righteousness of his mission, about the sanctity of his cause. But belief alone didn’t cloud his judgment. No, he was a man of careful, measured actions. He tempered his fervor with pragmatism, always knowing that restraint was often more powerful than blind force. He would not burn the city down just to root out a single mage. Not yet, at least.
As he walked, his mind drifted back to the meeting. The contact had been nervous, darting eyes, jittery hands. The type who knew too much but said too little. But what he had whispered in that dark alley was enough to confirm Garrick’s suspicions: magic had returned to R’asha. Not a whisper, not a rumor - no. It was here, festering beneath the surface.
But magic was patient. It seeped into the cracks of society, biding its time. It waited, like the heat that clung to the air, until the moment was right to strike.
Garrick stopped in front of a crumbling stone wall, its surface covered in the faded remnants of old murals. He pressed his back to the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. Asir had done his part, for now. But Garrick knew that the man’s loyalty was only as good as his payment. He couldn’t trust the fixer, not entirely. Men driven by gold always had their price. But for now, their goals aligned.
His thoughts turned inward once more, to the nature of what he hunted. Magic. It wasn’t as obvious as a sword in the hand or a rebellion in the streets. It was insidious, creeping into places where it wasn’t meant to be. The Second Order had taught him to look for the signs: the strange coincidences, the unnatural occurrences, the whispers of the impossible. It was subtle, like a disease that spread through a body before the symptoms showed.
But here, in the Summer Kingdom, the unseen plague had already infested the land. He had seen it in the eyes of the merchants, in the nervous twitch of the innkeeper who had served them earlier that day. They knew something. They were afraid of something. And fear, Garrick knew, was often a sign that something far greater was at play.
There was no time for doubt, no time for hesitation. Magic was here, and it was his duty to snuff it out before it could spread. He had heard what it could do, the way it twisted minds and bent wills to its power. He would not let that happen here. Not in R’asha. Not while he still drew breath.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, and he turned, walking purposefully down the street, the weight of his mission heavy on his shoulders. The hunt had begun.
A Guest in the Summer Kingdom, pt. 1
In the sweltering heart of R'asha’s bustling market, Garrick follows his fixer into the shadows.A Guest in the Summer Kingdom
The smell of onion, herbs, and warmspice filled the crowded market hall, mingling with the scent of roasting meats and the sweet tang of ripe fruit. Traders from far-flung corners of the kingdom displayed their wares with colorful fabrics and gilded trinkets, enticed buyers with promises of exotic spices, or bartered over a cart full of ripe, golden melons. The crowd shifted and flowed like a living thing, a river of bodies and noise, moving beneath the hot midday sun.
One traveler, however, stood apart. His close-cropped lightning-white hair, startlingly bright against the sea of darker hues, drew curious glances from the locals who cast suspicious eyes in his direction. The people of R’asha were known for their hospitality, but strangers - especially those as conspicuous as Garrick - were often met with equal parts curiosity and wariness.
Garrick tugged at the collar of his soft linen robe, the only comfort he could find in the heavy, oppressive air. The humidity seemed to cling to his skin like a wet, irritating film he couldn't rub off.
"I thought this was a desert kingdom," he muttered under his breath, his fingers twitching at the fabric as if he could peel away the heat.
Beside him, Asir - his fixer and self-proclaimed guide - let a smile tug at the corner of his lips. "Well, it was. And then it wasn’t," he replied, his voice calm, with a dryness that mirrored the land’s shifting fortunes.
Garrick shot him a glance. "Your knowledge is truly astounding. I can see why Warden Thomas recommended you."
Asir’s eyes twinkled with mischief, though he kept his expression composed. "The Summer Kingdom, my friend, is no longer just sand and dust. We have rivers, you know. Wells that don’t run dry, and heat that no longer comes from the sky but from the air itself." He gestured broadly to the bustling market hall, the towering buildings of R’asha casting long shadows over the traders and their goods. "A land reborn. A land of abundance, if you know where to look."
Garrick grunted, less than convinced, as he stepped aside to avoid a laden cart being pushed through the narrow space between market stalls. "Abundance of heat and people, I’ll give you that."
Asir’s smile grew, though he didn’t respond immediately. He led Garrick through the market, weaving between traders shouting in a dozen different tongues, their voices rising above the din. The air was thick with it all - the smell of spices, the press of bodies, and the weight of unspoken deals made in every corner.
As they walked, Asir’s voice dropped lower, slipping into a more cautious tone. "What you’re really asking, though, is if you’ll find what you came here for."
Garrick slowed his steps, his hand instinctively brushing against the pouch hidden beneath his robe. He glanced at Asir, then back at the crowd. "And will I?"
Asir’s eyes flickered toward the distant edge of the market, where the bright colors of the stalls seemed to dull into shadow. "That depends. Some treasures can’t be bought with coin alone."
Garrick stopped. "I’ve already paid your price, Asir."
The fixer met his gaze, his expression unreadable for the first time since they’d met. "True enough. But here in R’asha, the real deals are always made in the shade. Come," he said, nodding toward a narrow alley between two sandstone buildings. "We’re not quite done yet."
As they stepped into the alley, the noise of the market faded behind them, replaced by the muffled whispers of a different world - one Garrick wasn’t sure he was ready to face.