The small Sandship was fast, but the journey from the northern reaches of the Great Desert to the western reaches was long. It took the group nearly two days to reach Sun Worship Town, deep within the sand sea.
The small black market where Sid had been apprehended was already nearby, so Altaïr suggested spending an extra couple of days in town.
Under their agreement with Mr. Alva, they were supposed to return to the oasis where the Knowledge Seeker was docked roughly a week after their departure.
The round trip would take four days, or even less if they traveled longer into the night. That left them with at least three days to spend however they wished.
Who in their right mind would spend three whole days wandering around a tiny market visible from end to end at a glance?!
Altaïr therefore suggested enjoying Sun Worship Town for two days, then visiting the black market for an hour or two on the final day before leaving. There was no need to linger there.
Truthfully, venturing into that kind of gray area with Lady Lania had felt reassuring. With these three people beside him, all of whom looked ready to cause trouble... the less time they spent there, the better.
Isis puffed out her cheeks but eventually let Altaïr persuade her.
Just as Altaïr was planning how to kill two days in this dull industrial town, Morgan returned from procuring heat-resistant alloy on his own.
He brought back some news. "The townspeople told me this entire batch of heat-resistant alloy has already been reserved. They don't have any left in stock.
"Fortunately, I don't need much. They said they could set some aside for me during the next furnace run, but I'll have to wait two or three days before I can collect it.
"I'll stay here and wait for the metal. I'll skip the black market, and you can pick me up on your way back."
Having never been interested in the trip to the black market, Morgan was trying to seize this opportunity to leave the group.
"Going back and forth sounds like a hassle. Why don't we visit the black market first?" Morgan's words gave Isis a new idea. "Who knows? Maybe we'll find something interesting.
"If it turns out to be boring, we can come back early and spend the remaining time in Sun Worship Town while we wait for Morgan's metal. Then we won't have to split up."
Altaïr fell silent for a moment.
Isis's new plan was perfectly logical, and he could find no reason to refuse. If he rejected this one too, he would simply be forcing the issue, and even someone as good-natured as Isis would get angry.
You promised to visit the black market, so why are you still making excuses?
Altaïr shot Morgan a reproachful look.
Look what you've done!
Morgan stared back in bafflement.
How was this his fault?
"Then it's settled. We'll visit the black market first." Francesca, who had been watching from the sidelines, had run out of patience. "This young lady is tired. 'My dear guard, who grew up with me and is like a sister,' help me aboard the ship.
"'The Hunter guide hired in Loc Lac,' you take the helm. And you, 'little assistant disguised as a boy,' what are you standing around for? Hurry up!"
"..."
"..."
—--
The oasis covered less than half a square kilometer. It was not particularly large, but in the barren western reaches of the Great Desert, it was an extraordinarily valuable resupply point.
Migrating Nomads of the sand sea and roving desert travelers formed the core of its population. Mixed among them were all manner of people of unknown origin, and together they had established a small trading post that scarcely qualified as a market.
A ragged, filthy blanket might be thrown haphazardly across the ground, or there might be no blanket at all, just a jumble of wares laid out in the dirt. That was what passed for a stall here.
With so many strangers around, it was difficult to tell friend from foe, so everyone concealed themselves to some degree. Hoods and gauze scarves that hid their faces while protecting them from windblown sand were standard attire.
Vendors occasionally called out to passersby, but everyone who ended up here was much the same. No sales pitch would fool them, so most stallholders did not put much effort into hawking their wares.
The goods were laid out for customers to inspect. Ask the price, buy if you liked it, and leave if you did not.
Suddenly, nearly every gaze turned in the same direction. A few people who looked very much like easy marks had somehow wandered into the trading post.
Several hostile gazes emerged from the shadowy corners.
Yet when those gazes settled on two outrageously oversized weapons and armor that an ordinary person would struggle just to stand upright in, they sheepishly withdrew.
Hunters...
Everyone knew Hunters were not to be trifled with. The Guild's rule that Hunters must never turn their weapons against people did not change that. Anyone capable of swinging weapons like those to Hunt Large Monsters could do far worse with a bare-handed punch than leave someone black and blue.
Even the fiercest bandits gave Hunters a wide berth.
Altaïr fixed his gaze on several spots, conveying a clear warning without a word. Those harboring ill intent tugged at the brims of their hoods and lowered their heads even further.
Isis, meanwhile, brimmed with excitement and curiosity, her gaze darting everywhere.
Having grown up in Dundorma, she had seen prosperous markets and shop-lined streets far grander than this. Yet this place felt different. If she had to compare it to anything, perhaps it was a little like the street markets of Val Habar?
This place was more mysterious, though, and had a slightly... shady air about it!
Francesca also walked with her chin raised, surveying her surroundings with keen interest.
Her extensive travels and frequent business dealings had given her a sharper eye than most. A casual sweep of her gaze had already revealed several interesting items.
As for Morgan, after Altaïr warned him, "Your face might attract trouble," he had wrapped himself so tightly in a headscarf and gauze that he looked like a leper.
"What's that?" Isis asked, pointing at a nearby stall.
Several dried plant roots lay on a dust-caked piece of coarse cloth.
Altaïr glanced over. "They're the roots of a desert plant similar to Sunset Herb. They help relieve pain a little."
"What about those?"
"Dried sea buckthorn berries. They're a little sour and not very tasty, but they're nutritious. You could buy some to try."
"Sajji, doesn't your name mean 'sea buckthorn'?"
"...That's what I was named after, meow."
Isis's intense curiosity and obvious inexperience immediately drew the attention of several unscrupulous peddlers.
A scrawny old man with a cloth wrapped around his head approached, clutching a brown blanket. "Esteemed customers, take a look! This is the finest handwoven wool blanket. Look at that golden sheen, feel that weave. Only 5,000z..."
Isis did not believe a word of his sales pitch, but curiosity still prompted her to reach out and touch the blanket. It was coarse and slightly prickly.
Before Altaïr could say anything, Francesca laughed in exasperation. "Do you take me for an easy mark? A blanket haphazardly woven from camel hair is barely fit to wipe your shoes on, and even 50z would be too much.
"Take this rubbish away. Do you have any antiques? I want something genuinely old!"
Someone immediately shoved aside the old man selling blankets and thrust a pottery jar painted with intricate patterns in front of Francesca.
Before the man could introduce it, Francesca waved him off as if shooing away a fly. "Did you learn to make fakes from the Gajalaka? This thing is hideous. Don't bring me rubbish like this. Show me something real. I'm not short of money!"
Playing the enforcer at her side, Isis added with feigned ferocity, "My lady is an archaeologist with the Royal Academy. Bring us any more rubbish like this, and I'll break your legs!"
As if worried that her expression was not intimidating enough, she glanced around, ran over to a livestock stall, and scooped up an Aptonoth calf weighing more than half a ton. With a spirited "Hah!" she hoisted it over her head, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.
Altaïr was speechless.
These two were clearly having fun.
Still, their display of discernment and brute strength proved surprisingly effective.
Someone soon brought over a stone slab that looked as though it had been pried from a mural, its surface covered in carved script.
"Whoa!" Francesca took out a magnifying glass and examined it closely for a moment before saying with some surprise, "This is a relic of the Iretamu civilization.
"1,000z. If you're willing to sell, hand it over. Otherwise, take it back. Only the inscription has any value, and I've already memorized it."
The seller tried to haggle, but Francesca had already turned to examine the items in other people's hands. After hesitating for a moment, he agreed to the deal.
"All right, the rest of these are fakes. Isis, chase these people away."
"On it!"
While Isis drove off the vendors, Altaïr quietly asked Francesca, "Is this Iretamu civilization you mentioned a branch of some desert civilization? I don't think I've ever heard of it."
"Anyone else have something real? Try passing off another fake, and we'll start beating people up!" After calling this out, Francesca turned back to Altaïr.
"I made it up. So what? You think any of them could possibly be a real historian?"
* * *
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