The Desert Thief

October 10th, 2021 of the G̶r̶e̶g̶o̶r̶i̶a̶n̶ Elionian calendar, or 1̶4̶4̶3̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶V̶a̶l̶e̶n̶c̶i̶a̶n̶ ̶c̶a̶l̶e̶n̶d̶a̶r̶

It was one of those days when the patrol had caught some troublemaker running through the merchant district, or at least that was what the commissioner of Altinova had been told. He and several other men opened the door to the interrogation room, where the aforementioned scoundrel was tied to a chair with a cloth bag over his head, hiding his face.

—Judging by his appearance and accent, I’d say he’s Valencian, sir… —the guard mentioned as they looked at him. Without taking his eyes off the prisoner, he leaned closer to the commissioner’s ear and added with a tired, irritated air, —and he hasn’t shut up since we caught him.

The newcomer sighed and thought he heard a muffled, “Hey! Could someone turn the lights on?!” from beneath the cloth bag. He stepped closer, observing the individual. He had brown skin and wore white linen clothes, an outfit quite common in the Black Desert, although truth be told, it was not exactly the kind of clothing favored by respectable folk. In fact, it looked fairly worn, almost as though he had no other set to change into. A few details completed the otherwise simple outfit, along with several leather pieces such as fingerless gloves, a belt and a small pouch at his waist. Some might have even mistaken him for a priest, although the fact that his shirt was short enough to leave his stomach exposed was hardly appropriate for one of Aal’s clerics. Judging by his build, he seemed to be a young man nearing the end of his teenage years, and certainly the kind who could run fast, but he was also rather thin. He did not look as though he ate much.

Then one of the guards grabbed the bottom of the cloth bag and lifted it away. To the commissioner’s surprise, the sound of chains and several metallic pieces could be heard. The boy wore an ornament around his head decorated with several strangely shaped charms. His dark, straight hair reached his shoulders, quite messy and unkempt, tied back in a half ponytail. After blinking for a few moments to adjust to the light, his unusually amber-colored eyes became visible, framed by thick lashes that almost made it look as though he wore kohl around his eyelids. Overall, he had an exotic appearance; perhaps he was not from the capital, maybe he came from some desert tribe, or perhaps his ancestry was some unclear mixture of peoples. A scar also stood out clearly on his face, shaped like an old cut across his left cheek.

—Fuck, finally~ —the young man commented in a remarkably carefree tone considering the situation he was in.

—I am Amirr, commissioner of Altinova. You are accused of theft, insulting an officer, disobedience to authority…

—Hey, hey, hey. Calling it an insult is being a little dramatic, don’t you think? I didn’t insult anyone, I was just… talking. Nicely, I mean.

—You were seen stealing not one, but two pineapples. And an avocado.

—Come oooon~ I paid the merchant for them. He just… doesn’t remember —the Valencian replied as though it were nothing, shrugging his shoulders and looking perfectly relaxed.

—I think he would’ve remembered someone like… you, twig —one of the stern guards standing beside the chair cut in.

The Valencian looked at that guard with a sly smile, lifting one corner of his mouth. He spoke with effortless cheek, mischievous, as though he would not shut up even underwater.

—Come on, buddy~ I know you’re still mad about that joke. We played tag and I already apologized~ Why isn’t that enough?

—Aal punishes theft and disobedience.

—I’ll admit obedience is probably one of Aal’s virtues I’m worst at —the boy commented, rolling his eyes. When he looked back at them, he pursed his lips and put on an innocent little expression, rather theatrical, truth be told. —But I don’t think it’s that serious. It’s not like our Lord God has struck me with lightning or anyth—

—You dare blaspheme against Aal, bastard?! —the guard cut him off, his expression hardening.

—Um… Well… nope —the boy answered, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the man. —Actually, I love him a whole lot.

—A little calm, please —Commissioner Amirr asked the guard before looking back at the Valencian as though he were the most suspicious individual he had encountered in years. —Have you noticed those charms around his head? For all we know, he could belong to some cult that has come here to commit crimes.

—What?! Are you fucking kidding me?!

—Who are you? Who sent you?

—I’m me, and I sent myself!

A second guard simply drew his sword. The brown-skinned boy looked at the curved blade of the shamshir with slightly more concern.

—Okaaaaaay… since you’re so interested, I’ll tell you my life story, then.

The commissioner, intrigued, narrowed his eyes and watched the boy as he spoke.

—I’m from Valencia. Valencia City, born and raised. I’m traveling alone. West. I want to go visit… a relative.

—A relative? —the first guard asked, raising an eyebrow and scoffing. He clearly did not believe him.

—Yeah, well… Um… —For a few moments, the boy’s smile began to fade, his expression becoming somewhat more serious, as though the subject demanded it. —You see, I ended up kind of alone in the city, you know? I turned eighteen a couple of months ago and decided that… well! It was probably about time I went to see that, uh… relative! I don’t know him very well, but… I have to find him.

Silence filled the room. Too mysterious. Far too mysterious.

—I don’t know how you could possibly have a relative on the mainland. And you still haven’t told us your name.

The boy glanced aside like someone who wanted to hide something, but still introduced himself with all the sincerity he knew how to show.

—Anubis.

Some of the guards raised an eyebrow at the strange name. It sounded old, one of those ancient-fashioned names nobody used anymore. Others did not react at all. They could not care less what some nobody was called.

☥

Anubis looked around at those men. It was exactly the same feeling he had known throughout all his years in Valencia. The guards, the people who had a home, friends and a plate of food waiting for them every day, did not care in the slightest about those who lived on the streets and had nothing. If anything, they treated them like some lower class of people, individuals they could step on whenever they pleased. He remembered that well enough thanks to every scar, wound and bruise he carried, memories of each one of his street fights or of one guard or another who had sworn to make his life miserable ever since the name “The Jackal” had started becoming known around the bazaar. Yes, things had definitely gone downhill after Ma left…

Just as his expression began to sour, his thoughts playing in his mind like mirages in the desert, he gave the commissioner another crooked smile. His eyes narrowed mischievously and then he raised his hands, showing them his palms. The rope that had been binding his wrists slowly slipped down his forearms until it fell to the floor. The guards stared at him in stunned silence, unsure how to react.

—It’s been a pleasure meeting you, fellas~ But I think it’s about time I got the hell outta here —he commented with a grin, indeed as cocky as ever, wiggling his fingers.

And, well, the usual thing happened in situations like this. Every single person in the room immediately drew their swords, raising them threateningly toward the Valencian. And there were a lot of them. One of the guards even drew two. Anubis crossed his arms without losing his characteristic sly grin as he looked at them.

—We’ll tear that tongue out of your mouth so you’ll finally shut up, you little rogue! —one of the guards snarled.

—Oh, no thanks. I’m quite fond of it. How else am I supposed to taste dates?

Because yes, the truth was that the guards had not actually caught him stealing dates along with the pineapples and the avocado. When Anubis raised and lowered his shoulders, time almost seemed to move at a different pace. In the blink of an eye, the brown-skinned boy ducked and slid across the floor, dragging the sides of his boots against it as he slipped beneath the commissioner’s legs. And Valencians and Mediahns have something in common among so many things: they always make the tallest and broadest man the commissioner… and the slowest.

☥

The silence of the street was suddenly shattered by the loud cry of “GET HIM!”. One of the windows of the guard building flew open and the boy leapt through it, landing on the roof of the nearest neighboring building, which, thank Aal, happened to be slightly lower. It was a long jump, but a controlled one. He landed without trouble, agilely bending his knees as he hit the roof. Anubis turned his head to glance back at the window he had jumped from, wearing a triumphant smile. He stuck his tongue out at them and sprinted across the rooftop, unable to suppress a little laugh from the rush of adrenaline. When he reached the edge, he flashed a confident grin and, after one final sprint, jumped again, ready to land on the next rooftop… but shit, he misjudged it that time. These were not the houses of Valencia he was used to!

—AAAHK!

His eyes widened before he squeezed them shut, expecting the worst. He ended up landing on… something very, very soft. It was a sofa left there by Aal himself or something, thank goodness. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his head and patting different parts of his body as though checking that he was still in one piece and everything remained where it belonged. He sighed in relief and finally looked around to see where the hell he had ended up this time. At least he had noticed the rather pleasant scent of jasmine incense… Three women and two men were staring at him. Completely and utterly naked.

—Uuuuh… AH! Not again! —Anubis blurted out, covering his eyes and holding his palm toward them, thoroughly embarrassed. His cheeks slowly began to turn red.

Although they took a while to react, one of the women was the first to snap out of it.

—Where the hell did you come from?!

—Where’s the exit?! I’m not doing another belly dance! —the nervous Valencian exclaimed, looking frantically from side to side as he tried to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Everyone stared at him in confusion, having absolutely no idea what he meant. Who could possibly know that one of the times the boy had been fleeing the guards of Valencia —the 9,864,287th time— he had ended up inside a brothel room full of people demanding a traditional dance from him in exchange for keeping quiet about where he was hiding?

—GUARDS! HE’S HERE!

—Fuuuuuck —he cursed, turning around. Without thinking twice, he grabbed one of the brownies from the tray sitting on the nearby table and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, since he was already there. Then he headed toward the balcony railing.

—You shameless bastard! —one of the men protested.

Anubis looked back at him and raised his middle finger with his right hand. Then he tried jumping from the balcony. Let’s see where he ended up this time! …Well, in a cart full of manure.

—Uuuugh… shit.

Literally.

☥

Once he found himself back on the street, he immediately grew alarmed and climbed out of the cart. He grabbed his hood with both hands and pulled it over his head. Then he slipped into one of the narrowest alleyways he could find, where the sunlight could not reach and he might be able to hide from his pursuers. After taking several steps backward into the shadows, making sure nobody was following him anymore, he bumped into something behind him. He turned around and found two men. One was bigger than the other. Judging by their clothing, it was not hard to guess that they were… well, people like him. Except the kind who carried knives.

—Well, well~

—Looks like you managed to shake the guards pretty well, rookie. We’d like you to share the loot with us.

Anubis raised an eyebrow. He had no choice but to take the situation somewhat more seriously, remaining alert and ready to defend himself as they slowly closed in on him and became increasingly threatening. He furrowed his brow slightly and clenched his fists. He was sizing them up, and things did not look good.

—Nope!

Was he seriously going to stand there and give them the chance to use their weapons? Fuck no. He hit the bigger man with a right hook to the cheek, with a fair amount of force.

—Why, you little—! —the other, smaller man shouted as he lunged at Anubis.

The Valencian moved aside as best he could, dodging the man’s knife-wielding arm. To be fair, it was not as though Anubis actually knew how to fight using any kind of proper combat technique. He only knew how to use his fists based on his own experience. He had been through plenty of situations like this on the streets of the desert city, and apparently he had not done too badly; otherwise, he would not still be standing there.

Two against one was difficult, though. He had to try to knock one of them unconscious quickly. Or run away. Offering them a belly dance and going out for date wine together would also have been preferable, but unfortunately this was not going to be one of those occasions. They got into a fight that would have made any combat instructor’s eyes bleed if they had seen it. It was quite dirty and deplorable. Punches and kicks? Allowed. Picking up rocks from the ground and throwing them? Allowed. Pulling the other guy’s hair? Yes, allowed. Biting his arm? Absolutely. Spitting at him? Of course. Driving a knee into his crotch? As many times as necessary. Another broken tooth was better than getting stabbed and left lying in the middle of that dead-end alley. It would not exactly have been the first time, but it would certainly be better to avoid it.

At one point Anubis found himself utterly exhausted and ended up slammed against the wall, breathing heavily and aching beneath fresh bruises and wounds. The larger of the two criminals readied his knife.

—You should’ve listened to us. You’re nothing but some forgotten clown in a place nobody gives a shit about. Bet you’re the son of some mother who—

A growl came from Anubis and he slapped the man so hard he nearly saw stars. He was genuinely angry now. He spat onto the ground.

—My mother what, asshole?

The smaller man was not as strong, and Anubis kicked him away. Then he grabbed something from the ground: an old broken wine bottle, or at least what remained of one. Anubis wore the expression of a rabid dog as he growled at them, almost as though he might start barking and biting at any moment.

—Grrrrrr. That’s enough —he declared.

Once, Ma had told him about an ancient Kemetian myth from her original tribe, about a scale that weighed the heart of a person who wished to enter Paradise and how that heart had to be lighter than the feather of a goddess; otherwise, their soul would be devoured by an ancient beast resembling a crocodile. And in his judgment, the hearts of those two men weighed a thousand times more than that feather.

The bigger one was still dazed and the other was overwhelmed by the pain of the fight. Anubis raised the bottle and… stopped. His brows lowered as his expression shifted from that of a rabid dog to that of a frightened, saddened puppy. He looked at the broken glass in his hand and caught sight of his own reflection. He looked awful. His knuckles were red and scraped, bleeding slightly. He pressed his lips together as he remembered one of the things Ma had warned him about when he first started getting into street fights. “Violence won’t lead you anywhere good, Anubis. There’ll come a time when you realize you don’t want to become that kind of person. Understand that before it’s too late…”, she had warned him.

He knew that because of his non-Aalist ancestry, his circumstances and his stealing, he would probably go to hell once his time ran out anyway. But he did not want to become someone like that. For his own sake, for the memory of his mother… he neither wanted to nor could allow himself to. He threw the bottle aside and, when it hit the ground, it shattered into fragments of glass. Then he turned around and walked away.

—Whew~ That got pretty deep. Let’s see what the next stop is…

He placed a hand against his back, sore from all the hits he had taken. Through one of the holes in his shirt, a few ochre-colored tattoos could be seen, shaped like hieroglyphs, although it was impossible to tell how far they extended or what they might represent.

At that exact moment, a few merchants were talking inside the tavern next door. Soon, they would be heading back to Heidel with their wagon full of goods… Maybe that city was somewhere near this place called Calpheon. He was not sure, but sneaking aboard as a stowaway did not sound like such a bad idea.

Uh~

Great plan.