At dusk, the western wind stirred the sands.
Li Song and Bai, now disguised in rough robes and weather-worn cloaks, departed from Salt Spring Camp, heading toward the enemy's western supply route. Their mission: to scout the logistics hub supporting Raymond's rear forces. They left their armor behind, blending in as wandering traders.
Li Song carried the Eagle bow slung across his shoulder, Dog blade at his hip, and a long staff carved from camel bone in hand. His boots left shallow impressions in the dust as he walked with measured steps. Bai's light armor was hidden beneath her tunic. A strand of coin-pouches swayed gently from her waist, subtly obscuring her silhouette. Her expression, always distant, now bore the sharpness of calculation.
The skies above the Western Regions burned with ochre light. At sunset, streaks of crimson slashed across the horizon like blood soaked into silk. They passed through a landscape long abandoned—shattered city gates, toppled towers, and silent trade roads. The skeletal remains of watchtowers loomed like ghosts over the path. Wind-chimes and copper bells clung to rotting wood frames, ringing faintly.
"This used to be the trade artery of the Seven Springs Alliance," Bai murmured. "A hundred years ago, the Majar caravans passed through here—hundreds of forts, dozens of mosques."
Li Song studied the ruins. "Now it's only sand and echoes."
They crossed the forgotten city of Alaric, where reddish-brown columns leaned like drunks and broken amphorae lay buried beneath layers of dust. In the center stood a crumbling dome—its wind holes sang like the last prayer of a buried people.
One house still bore a clay totem above its entrance: two entwined snakes, guardians of a city-state long gone. They paused in silence.
For five days, they followed the ancient post roads. Inhabited villages still dotted the path—barefoot children ran past with laughter, women carried clay jugs on their heads, and old men led donkeys through narrow lanes. They passed the ruins of a mosque; the dome had collapsed, but the arched gate and baptismal pool remained. Bai stood quietly before it.
"This place once echoed with scripture," she whispered. "Now it's filled with silence."
On the fifth night, they reached the edge of Battsah Market—a settlement clinging to a dried oasis. During the day, merchants hawked wares and camel bells rang. At night, it quieted into a murmur of many tongues: Arabic, Persian, even the remnants of Byzantine.
Li Song pointed to a side alley. "There. Iron hooks and rope. Military-grade unloading tools."
Bai narrowed her eyes. "The supply depot must be west of town. But we need a cover—too many eyes here."
They changed into more worn clothing, their faces smudged, and slipped into the night market. Stalls sold saffron, dyed cloth, curved daggers, spiced bread, and saddle fittings. Li Song lingered at a blacksmith's stand. A curved cavalry blade sizzled under hammer, next to a Western short sword with a cross-guard.
"These weapons... Persian patterns, Byzantine steelwork," Bai observed. "This city is a melting pot of mercenaries."
They checked into a roadside inn. The walls were painted with ochre murals—scenes of caravans, faded by time. Travelers sat cross-legged, eating dry bread and sipping bitter tea. The innkeeper, a grizzled one-eyed man, watched them from the counter.
Li Song leaned closer. "We're looking for work. Anything near the post station?"
The old man chuckled. "Plenty ask. Few return."
After midnight, they slipped from the inn under the pretense of finding a stable and crept toward the northern ridge.
They crawled behind sand dunes near the post station. Faint light revealed a cluster of supply carts and clay jars. Guards circled the fire in thick cloaks. Several horses snorted beside the fence.
Bai drew a blackened copper mirror, angling it subtly to catch reflections without exposing their position.
"If this station falls," Li Song whispered, "they'll have nothing to feed their western front."
"But we need someone on the inside," Bai murmured. "A direct strike would get us both killed."
They withdrew along the dried riverbed and hid behind an abandoned waterwheel. There, they lit a low fire.
Li Song stared into the flames. "We scout again tomorrow night. We need to be certain."
"If things go wrong, I'll cover our escape," Bai said, her voice steady.
Above them, the stars burned cold. Wind stirred the sand. And then—quiet.
Two shadows vanished into the dark.