Burdurka Town was a small settlement, home to approximately two thousand souls.
The availability of oasis resources dictated the size of its population.
Though situated deep within the desert, it was not entirely disconnected from the outside world.
Its houses were constructed from adobe, date palm wood, and sandstone.
A modest electrical grid had been laid, powered by a motor, ensuring that a few vital facilities received electricity around the clock.
For the most part, however, residents still relied on oil lamps and candles for illumination.
Essential commodities like wheat flour and cloth were sustained by a thriving external trade.
The local economy primarily revolved around animal husbandry, with camels, sheep, and goats being raised, and agriculture, cultivating dates, vegetables, and spices.
It was precisely as depicted in the pictorial notes.
Dismounting from her camel, Konehl-Ghervil stood at the town’s entrance.
In a daze, she glimpsed the black sun in the sky once more.
Shaking her head to dispel the unsettling vision, she meticulously observed the town.
A lively atmosphere permeated the air; the town’s inhabitants reveled in song and dance, and numerous vendors hawked their wares from adobe stalls.
Clay pots, date honey, mint tea, and camel hides were among the goods on offer.
From every household, smoke curled upwards from fires fueled by camel dung and desert willows, while the sounds of singing and dancing drifted from courtyards.
Adults and children alike danced around bonfires.
This was their ritual before dinner.
****
As they bid farewell, influenced by the town’s vibrant ambiance, Dowo-Hawk’s spirits had lifted considerably.
He was even willing to utter some genuinely kind words.
Witnessing his resurgence, Konehl-Ghervil declined his gratitude—a purse estimated to contain thirty Trin Gold Coins.
She merely requested a bottle of fresh camel milk to quench her thirst; in exchange, she presented him with the beetles she had unearthed.
This gesture somewhat compensated for their losses, as the entire haul dug up by the caravan had plummeted into a collapsed pit.
Watching Dowo-Hawk nearly weep as he confessed to the goddess before her, inquiring about her city and church, and promising to bring the families of his fallen companions to donate and fund construction in the future, Konehl-Ghervil found herself speechless.
She forcibly swallowed the words ‘Solis Abbey’.
‘This was not reality; agreeing would only add to her inner turmoil.’
Such good fortune never materialized in reality.
Not only did it fail to appear, but she was also led by the nose by an unshakeable power, the very pinnacle of authority in this nation.
The more she pondered, the more vexed she became, and in her frustration, she pulled Ishmele-Esli away, bidding their farewells.
A bustling, yet unremarkable and somewhat backward town.
Such was her initial impression of the town.
Under Sali’s guidance, they toured the town, primarily seeking a sufficiently respectable inn for dinner.
She had promised Ishmele-Esli a good meal.
They had followed the tantalizing aroma, which had reached them from a considerable distance.
The service was indeed impeccable, featuring open-air grilling in the courtyard.
Guests were offered unlimited complimentary dates, hot camel milk soup, sweet drinks, and flatbreads.
The proprietors, an elderly couple, enthusiastically regaled them with tales of their camel caravan encountering wolves at night and inadvertently stumbling upon mysterious ancient ruins.
Judging by the forced smiles and polite applause from those around them, it was evident these stories had been recounted more than once.
Sali politely declined Konehl-Ghervil and Ishmele-Esli’s earnest invitation, stating they needed to return home first before seeking out the mayor to explain the situation.
There was the matter of the guards’ malicious intent, and the preservation and transport of the merchant’s corpse.
Most crucially, there was the encounter with an adult green desert lizard on the road, and the arrival of a knight in town.
Knights of The Order commanded respect everywhere.
This arrangement was beneficial, as consulting the mayor would help them understand the town’s circumstances.
Having witnessed such peculiar ‘local customs,’ Konehl-Ghervil’s curiosity was piqued by this town, sketched in Mrs. Penelope’s notes.
****
An hour later.
Konehl-Ghervil watched, utterly dumbfounded, as Ishmele-Esli devoured two plump roasted camel humps in addition to half a camel.
When it came time to settle the bill, Konehl-Ghervil’s face utterly darkened.
The total came to a full Trin Gold Coin! Three hundred and twenty Denarii! And that was after a discount, given their status as foreign travelers.
The guest room was not overly expensive, costing merely twenty-five Denarii, which was ten to twenty Denarii less than comparable inns nearby.
She briefly suspected they were being fleeced and trapped.
‘Any money saved in this dream realm could not be carried back to reality.’
With that thought, her heart no longer ached quite so much.
‘Such was human nature: in times of trouble, one had to learn to deceive oneself.’
It was an immense stroke of luck that, despite Ishmele-Esli’s curse of ill fortune, Konehl-Ghervil had not succumbed to sunstroke, been devoured by snakes, shot by bullets, or fallen to her death in a pit, but had instead persevered and arrived alive in the town.
****
“You foul, blood-sucking ticks fit only for hiding in the sand, do you truly thirst for my blood so much?”
Having settled the bill, a roar of cheers erupted from outside.
“Go on, you stinking tick!”
“What’s wrong tonight! Haven’t you eaten enough?”
“Listen to what he’s calling you…”
…
Amidst the excited throng, no one noticed a white-haired girl pushing her way through.
Only when Konehl-Ghervil noticed the adults no longer covering the children’s eyes did she dare join the commotion.
The ‘free’ madman now wore a makeshift apron woven from wild date palm leaves, beneath which was a ‘skirt’ fashioned from a folded robe.
It was barely decent enough to look at directly.
The leading man among his pursuers had lost his robe.
It was clear, without a doubt, that the madman’s ‘skirt’ had been stripped from him.
Having shifted from the mindset of watching a monkey show to becoming the object of ridicule, the pursuers felt a deep sense of unease.
Exchanging glances, several of them split off, weaving through the crowd to encircle him from behind.
This was no longer a mere game of chase; if caught, he would surely be beaten to reclaim their lost dignity.
The madman crawled across the sand in peculiar, insect-like postures, provoking peals of laughter from the crowd.
Many foreign merchants observing threw silver coins at him, which he disdainfully buried in the manner an animal would bury its droppings.
Before long, the pursuers quickly circled behind the man, forming a cordon.
The madman, oblivious, continued burying his ‘droppings’.
The leader raised his torch as a signal, and together they charged towards the center.
Just as everyone assumed the spectacle was over, the madman scooped up a handful of sand and flung it in one direction.
“Ouch!”
With a cry of pain, one pursuer stumbled and fell, clutching his head.
The cunning fellow had hidden silver coins within the sand.
Seizing this opportunity, the madman darted out of the encirclement.
Another wave of cheers swept through the crowd.
“My unborn puppies run faster than all of you!”
The old man beside them, leaning on a walking stick and sporting three braided pigtails, cheered the loudest.
At his shout, both the pursuers and the madman grew displeased, their gazes instantly snapping towards him.
Upon recognizing the old man, the pursuers fell silent, forcibly suppressing their annoyance.
The madman, however, cared little for such niceties and charged wildly towards the old man.
Instantly, the crowd dispersed.
Someone, specifically Konehl-Ghervil, was a step too slow and found herself dragged forward as a human shield by the damnable old scoundrel.
‘What abysmal luck,’ she thought. ‘To stand right next to such a person!’
The wild, gesticulating madman swiftly bore down upon her, and Konehl-Ghervil, despair blooming in her heart, squeezed her eyes shut.
Several seconds passed, and she remained perfectly unharmed.
“Idiot! My son bought me these shoes!”
The old man’s curses rang out.
Opening her eyes and turning, she saw that the old man’s shoes and walking stick had been snatched.
The culprit ran to a nearby well, tossing the shoes, walking stick, apron, and ‘skirt’ all in at once.
Having completed his mischief, he sprinted into the woods and vanished without a trace.
The old man, fuming, stomped his bare feet in place, yelping in pain as stones bruised him.
‘The old geezer deserved it,’ Konehl-Ghervil thought, muffling a laugh behind her hand.
“What are you doing here?”
A familiar voice interrupted her schadenfreude as Dr. Sali hurried over.
“I’ve been looking for you for ages, Mayor Berber.”