MIDAS

The massive wooden doors were tucked to the side by massive chains, getting pulled into the walls. As the wood got tucked along it, its clunking and screeching reached down to Midas and Alma, both waiting for the doors to open, revealing the dunes in the distance right in front of them. Finally, the moment had come that the boy got to reach them. Able to expand his sight out of the fort's mud walls. He looked to Alma's mask; the holes forged inside of the metal darkened as the sun's rays couldn't reach his face, looking up to him, waiting for him to give the signal to go. The wait wasn't long, as the man began to step forward right as the doors had opened completely.

Exciting the fort, Midas felt relieved; he felt free, enjoying the unending expanse of sand surrounding the both of them. Alma followed slim trails of foodsteps in the sand, heading for a loosely constructed tent. The wind blew against the spanned cloth, tightily fixated by rope that wrapped around twisted, almost completely bleached logs that held up the tent. Next to it, three sledges lay in the sand. Their wooden frame was supported by metal, which helped with pushing the sand to the side, as it was much sturdier than wood. Lether was stretched and nailed on top of planks, making out the seat. 

The sledge was wide enough for Midas to lay on, even though his limbs would droop down to the sides. More than enough space for two or three people, at least, that the boy was sure of, as he marveled at the ride, slightly confused of how one would get it to move exactly. Alma headed to another hooded guard; they greeted each other shortly, and Midas looked at the both of them talking. Seemingly arguing about the price of the ride. 

"Let me have the front." Alma looked shortly over to the boy as he watched the child make space for him. Placing himself on his knees, taking a deep breath, holding in for a while, before grabbing a thin rope strapped to the wood, holding onto it. 

Before Midas could follow his movements, he noticed a faint orange glow escape from the right hand of the man, dimly shining through the bandages. Shook by the sledge moving, as his sight was attracted to the light, he exclaimed supriced as he looked at the sand underneath him seemingly accelerating the sledge by moving its grains on its own. It didn't take long for the boy to connect the light to the sudden movement of the sledge, faintly remembering the duo that picked him up shortly after he awoke inmidst the sand. They too had nothing to show, which may be able to push the sledge forward.

"Make sure to not fall, boy, I'm not the best at this. You see, this ability to move the sand to our will. It was granted to us by the sun. The old man raised his voice, making sure Midas would be able to hear him with all the wind howling around him, not able to look back at the youngling, as he needed to focus. "Its splitters fell down to us, you see. We, that follow its lead, are able to use it." Even though his wording would suggest more pride in his word, the things he told sounded much more like lessions. The boy held tightly onto the flapping sides of the leather he sat on with his knees, his eyes sharp as he listened to him speak.

"Who found out about their power..." Midas struggled to overtone the winds, eager to find out more about the stones origins. "The first Sarbahr'ivid. The first man to tell our folk about the sun's teachings." His reply only threw up more questions: "Now, today, we will have the great honor to house one of his descendants, the third child of the 35th Sarbahr'ivid." Just by his tone, the boy realized that whoever Alma referred to must be of great importance. His words were slightly trembling, giving a hint to his stress. 

It didn't take long for the both of them to see a town in the distance, scattered mud huts, and a reasonably-sized tower planted right in the middle of the barren wasteland. The boy awed at the city they headed to, intrigued to find out how anyone would survive, let alone establish a whole town in such hard conditions. "I wasn't able to show you with the book. This in front of you is the town of Gip'din, boy." His breathing became more dry. "Unfortunately, for us, Gihin, we had to bring our most important men and families to this last town. I was tasked to transport the blessed child to our fort—in order to ensure his safety, of course." His speech became muttered as he hung his head slightly, seemingly the stress of the task getting to him.

Whoever the enemy was, they seemed to overpower even the mighty-looking fighters that patrolled around the fort—an enemy the boy could never even dream of realistically beating. He sighed at the thought of beating someone in general, feeling much more useless, as he wasn't able to find any way of helping Alma or the Gihin people in their situation, not even able to grasp why exactly they fought. 

The sledge came to a hold, finally stopping in front of a footpath swirling into and in between the mudhuds, clothed figures wandering in and around the town, many of them transporting broad clay vases on their sholder. Midas looked towards the entrance of the town as Alma bound the sledge's thin rope around a lonely wooden fence and hit into the dry sandstone. The both of them entered the crowded town. It took a few steps and stairs before the ground began to slump upwards, dry stone under the sole of the boy's boots, as he squeezed through the tight pathways, following Alma close, trying to avoid the few inhabitants.

Young people glanced or hung outside the window, widening their eyes at the boy from above their homes, as he passed by, meeting their gaze as he looked up the blocky mud shacks. Alma stopped abruptly, beginning to walk again, shifting his direction. The boy laid his eyes on colored cloth spanned onto mud walls, herbs and spices hitting his nostrils. Before he could process all the new stimuli the street marked had overwhelmed him with, he saw Alma approaching one of the shops, his gaze fixated down onto tiny golden charms. The hooded shopkeeper was bowing multiple times behind the counter, stopping to briefly look onto the boy as he approached her stand before returning to her bowing.

"Please, tell me how much haavid this one costs.." he pointed his finger towards a tiny golden figure, seemingly holding onto a round object. The gold standing out from the white cloth it laid on in the display. "10 haavid, only 10 haavid for the ex-general." The voice sounded light, seemingly blessed by Alma's presence. "10 haavid.. the prices have risen again..?" he held onto the metal covering him, bowing over the figure. "Hard times, yes—the gold mines have been raided by the unfaithful." the person's comment was slim, said in a fast tone. Alma held in for a while before reaching a stack of gold coins over the counter, the shopkeeper pressing their closed hands onto their chest as they let the man take a hold of the figure.

"A gift for the man we will meet; once you meet him, you'll understand better." Alma tucked the golden figuere into a tiny red sack, closing the bundle with its slim string, passing by the boy to lead again. The sun shone orage light between the buildings that seemed to have grown in height once they reached the heart of the town, dabbling inbetween mud and clay as they found their way around endless corners, finding themselves at a wooden door. Steep, high mudbrick towering over them, as Alma shifts the door open, using the unofficial entrance of the tower, the boy was able to see on his way here.

Taking a few sets of stairs, they ended up in a short hallway, a red rug covering the gray-brown entrance way, in front of two masked guards, sabers held out, as they took a look at the both of them. One looked at the other to the side, nodding shortly, before the two grabbed onto the handle of the double door. 

Alma, nodding at the both of them, continued his step, staching away his metal mask with worried brows. The young boy followed, looking down onto the rug they stepped on.

"Finally...!" the man in front of them snorted.