# Chapter 2
A cracked red moon cut through the dry desert sky.
Finally, the city walls began to slowly emerge through the endlessly stretching sand dunes and rocky mountains—a sight so monotonous it bordered on tedious. Enveloped in sand dust, the walled city revealed its hazy outline as if placed within a dream.
Inside the city walls existed both light and shadow. The brilliant lights emanating from the city center gradually faded toward the edges, until the outermost parts were consumed by darkness as if burned away. Chellion. The hard, rolling sound made Del’s mouth feel dry.
When Del opened the slightly ajar window completely to get a better view, sand dust from the moving carriage rushed inside. Ah. Lost in concentration, the window had been left open too long. The invading sand tickled Del’s nose before settling on the hem of his skirt. He hastily brushed away the sand that had made a mess of the carriage interior. Despite creating this inconvenience, there was some benefit. In the desert, a city of that size could only be one place. Simply confirming that the destination was near was enough.
Just as Del was about to lean his upper body further outside, the carriage stopped. Turning his head to look at the western sky opposite the city, he could see sand mountains extending a reddish tongue, swallowing the sun. The coachman’s voice came from beyond the carriage wall.
“Young master, we’ll rest here for today.”
“But the city is right in front of us?”
It seemed like they could arrive with just a little more travel. Confused, Del questioned this decision, to which the coachman replied.
“Desert distances are deceiving. Though it appears so close, we’ll need to travel a full day tomorrow to arrive by late afternoon.”
“It doesn’t look like a mirage though.”
“It’s worse than a mirage. Many people overestimate their speed around here and push forward, only to collapse. Something that appears within reach is more dangerous than something clearly far away. It’s no different from a mirage.”
After saying this, the coachman added:
“Of course, if you wish, we can depart now.”
“What would happen then?”
“They say dried mummies are often found about a day’s journey from desert cities.”
“I understand completely.”
If they pushed on recklessly, Del might become one of those mummies. At this elegant and polite warning, Del shook his head firmly. In the desert, it was best to heed the coachman’s advice. Ignoring such warnings and pushing forward could result in becoming one of the countless corpses scattered throughout the desert. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t impatient, but the desert expert was the coachman. Though Del knew many things about the world, he didn’t know everything. Especially regarding the desert, he was practically ignorant, which was why he’d hired an expert. If he didn’t trust the man’s words, there would have been no point in hiring him. Del chewed the inside of his cheek. This journey had to be conducted with caution, from beginning to end.
After waiting for the dust to settle, Del opened the door. When they first began the journey, the coachman had tried to take Del’s hand, but after being refused, he never offered again. He assumed Del could manage on his own, and Del did just that. Del roughly smoothed his tangled hair with his fingers. Sitting motionless in the carriage for so long had left his long hair in a complete mess, though it remained beautiful and fine-textured despite everything.
This time, Del sighed looking at his wrinkled skirt. Although it was a travel dress, the voluminous skirt seemed entirely unsuited for desert travel. When he opened the carriage door, dry, dusty air rushed in. His feet sank deep into the sand, and he nearly fell over. Getting up and dusting off his clothes, he held back his irritation. What good would it do to get angry at sand?
After exiting the carriage, an oasis appeared before him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Some distance from the water’s edge, the coachman was already lighting a fire and setting a pot on it. With impressively quick hands, the coachman would soon set up a tent and prepare a meal. It was fortunate that dinner, at least, could be cooked food rather than provisions or hardened bread. In many ways, it was a comfortable journey.
The coachman hired from the Free City had fulfilled his role adequately. Well-versed in desert paths, he read the sun and stars, always stopping the carriage at an oasis by evening to rest. In places without oases, he had prepared sufficient water in advance, so Del had never experienced thirst while crossing the desert.
While the coachman prepared dinner, Del wandered around the oasis, gazing at the city that was beginning to be obscured by sand dust. Del mentally recited what he needed to do and find in the city.
Walking on the crisp sand, Del left the coachman behind and settled by the water. Removing his travel shoes and turning them upside down, sand poured out in a rush. He let out a laugh of disbelief. He’d barely walked after sitting in the carriage, and yet this much sand? At this rate, it seemed little different from walking barefoot. And then the coachman’s voice called out again.
“Young master. Though the water is clean, it’s the kind that pulls you in if you put your feet in it.”
“I understand.”
The coachman only addressed him as “young master” at critical moments. Del responded calmly, but his body had already moved far from the water. He was still holding his shoes. He couldn’t understand why anyone would create such a monstrous oasis. His grumbling voice must have reached the coachman.
“Desert oases are like property, that’s why. They serve to catch intruders. It would be inconvenient for the owner if unauthorized people used them.”
“It seems more regrettable from the perspective of the person being devoured.”
“I suppose so.”
“And foolish travelers like me are just dessert.”
“Not too different, I’d say.”
The coachman seemed capable of joking. However, remembering that the coachman’s jokes were based on facts made them somewhat chilling. A fitting story for enduring a desert night—quite appreciated.
While the smell of food wafted through the air, the sun disappeared completely. The horizon briefly blazed before being consumed by darkness. The sound of the desert wind in the darkness was desolate, even threatening. Indeed, in the desert, one needed a coachman’s guidance. Had Del been alone, he might have already dried up from lack of water, or even if he’d managed to find an oasis, he might have become a foolish snack.
“The meal is ready.”
“Okay.”
Del tied his roughly de-sanded hair into a ponytail and plopped down. As expected from a coachman who dealt with noble travelers, the setting was arranged with some formality, however modest. The coachman’s bag contained not only cooking utensils but also a pretty cloth for Del to sit on. Though the pattern was excessively childish.
They weren’t familiar enough to talk much, so mealtime was relatively quiet. Occasionally, when Del looked toward the eastern horizon where the city had disappeared into darkness, the coachman would recite their upcoming schedule. That was the extent of their conversation. The coachman’s cooking skills weren’t bad, so the meal was decent enough. While eating slowly, Del felt a gaze and looked up. The coachman was staring at him without attempting to hide his expression. His eyes revealed words like amazement and curiosity.
“What’s so fascinating?”
“You seem accustomed to traveling.”
“Do I?”
Is that such a surprising thing? Del thought, then chuckled. Right. Just because something was natural to him didn’t mean it was natural to everyone. The coachman said:
“It’s unheard of for a young master from a high-ranking family to travel the desert alone, without attendants.”
“If you know that much, then you must also know that high-ranking families have various circumstances?”
“Enough to keep my head attached, at least.”
“You’re an interesting person.”
“Thank you for your kind assessment. I’m just uncertain about the extent of my duties as a coachman.”
A perceptive coachman. Hiring him from the Free City might have been fortunate. Perceptive, well-spoken, and competent. Looking up at the sky, Del saw that stars had already begun to appear. Certainly, above all, he was skilled.
“Well, the purpose of the journey wasn’t included in our contract.”
“We don’t particularly need to know about the circumstances of noble masters.”
“So now it’s special circumstances.”
“As you’re aware.”
“Well, it’s not something I needed to hide from a coachman’s eyes anyway.”
Del faced the coachman. Purple eyes stared back at him. Now he understood which star’s selection the man had received. In that case, it truly didn’t matter. Del said:
“I’m on my way to find my crow.”
The coachman’s eyes widened at Del’s words. After silently meeting Del’s green eyes, the coachman nodded, unable to contain his admiration. The coachman had followed his fate from birth with his own star. To someone who orbited within a predetermined trajectory, Del’s existence must seem equally special.
“And running some errands along the way.”
“I never expected to see a star directly.”
“Feel free to admire all you want.”
“The illusion is certainly shattered now.”
“I’ve been told that’s my specialty.”
Del smiled.
The soul of a magician is a star, they say. A corner of a star, a burned fragment—the crow. A magician must have a crow by their side. The coachman nodded at this truth, passed down as common knowledge since ancient times.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
