A loud knocking on Hazma's bedroom door suddenly woke Sadin, who rolled off the sofa where he had fallen asleep. The boy barely managed to mumble a "what?" as he tried to emerge from the torpor of sleep, staring with his eyes still half closed at the prince who in the meantime gave permission to enter.

  A guard entered and in a solemn tone said:

  << News has just arrived of an enemy attack on the distant northern borders of the kingdom. The Sultan and the General have already left with part of the royal army to stop the advance. Your Majesty, you are in command here. We await orders. >>

  Those words completely woke Sadin who, without realizing it, had begun to shake like a leaf and his heart, which seemed to have stopped for a moment, had started beating fast again. Unlike him, the prince, maintaining absolute calm, gave a series of precise and detailed orders to secure the country. The guard took note of everything and quickly left.

  Left alone, Hazma turned to Sadin and said:

  << Didn't you say the barbarians were coming from the South? >>

  The boy nodded; the events of those days had particularly tested him. He had conspicuous dark circles under his eyes and a neglected appearance despite all the attentions the prince had given him by the servants.

  << This is the worst thing that could happen. Another invasion is the last thing we need. The city is currently bare of soldiers and if even those who attacked us from the North, were to arrive here, we would be in a real mess. >>

  << By the Gods! We didn't need this! >>

  << Yeah, that was not needed. >> thought Hazma.

  Of course, it was an unfortunate coincidence that two enemy forces decided to attack them on two different fronts at the same time. One of them had certainly made an agreement with Jabar… but the other? Was it pure chance?

  “No, Jabar couldn’t have gone that far. What man would plan something like that?”he thought, trying to explain everything that was happening.

  He prayed to the Gods that his father would be able to stop the invaders and that at the same time the new, stronger and more organized garrison would arrive in time to replace the soldiers at the southern border before the arrival of the other barbarian faction.

  << Sadin, I think I figured out where your friend is. >> Hazma began, placing his index finger on an empty spot on the map, far from the city and the main communication routes.

  He explained to him that in that area there was an old, abandoned fort that almost no one knew about; he had remembered seeing it only once as a boy, during a horseback ride with his father and, precisely because it was in the middle of nowhere, like a sort of inexplicable mirage, it had remained imprinted in his memory. Even though he had not been in those parts over the years, now and then, the thought of that building resurfaced from the well of memories, and now, that memory could contribute to giving a turning point to Basim's search.

  << Are you sure this is the right place? >> Sadin asked him, perplexed.

  Hazma still found it strange how the boy addressed him directly, without using the usual royal terms he was used to.

  << Absolutely. >> he replied determinedly. << It's the only place that fits the description he gave you. I have no doubt that it is there. >>

  << So what are we waiting for? Let's leave immediately! >>

  << Hold back the rush, we must first prepare ourselves properly. We cannot leave like this, without a plan. >>

  << Your Highness, with all due respect, we are not going for a walk, but to save a person. The more time we waste, the less likely we are to find him alive. >>

  << This is precisely why we need to organize ourselves first. Think about it: if the fortress is really Jabar's secret hideout, he will surely have adopted a security system to keep curious people and intruders away. >>

  << Like? >>

  << Well, if he were to use it for illegal purposes, as well as to hide people, it is likely that at the first sign of danger, those who work for him will certainly make sure to erase any evidence that could implicate him. >>

  << And they could even kill Basim? >>

  << I'm afraid so. >>

  This answer disturbed Sadin even more and he asked:

  << What can we do to save my friend as soon as possible? >>

  << Had you already infiltrated other places before making the attempt in my house? >>

  Sadin, hesitant, replied:

  << Yes… a couple of times. Why? >>

  Hazma handed him an old, yellowed plan of a building, the ink very faded making it difficult to tell if some spaces represented entrances or if it was just the lack of color. Sadin didn't understand what that piece of paper represented until the prince explained it to him.

  §§§§§§

  << Slowly. >> said Basim, scolding the Maestro who was trying to play Fawzi's Yasirpipe.

  The man, hesitant, tried to repeat the operation more delicately, but he was so tense that his fingers had become stiff and he ended up plucking three strings at once instead of one. The mistake cost him an immediate reaction from the Sand, which reacted by forming a compact block that hit him in the face, breaking his nose.

  << I said slowly. >> Basim commented indifferently.

  Some colleagues took him away to treat him as he moaned in pain, covering his bloody face.

  << Whose turn is it now? >> asked the boy, turning to the few remaining.

  No one dared to approach the instrument; they were terrified of what had happened and feared what might happen to them if they played it badly.

  “Playing” the classic Yasirpipe, even if a mistake was made, the Sand never reacted so violently towards the player, but in this case, after four consecutive rather serious incidents, the common thought was that the instrument was possessed by the devil and that no one else but the boy could control it. Between that and Daysam’s evil look, the Masters reluctantly chose the first solution.

  Three days had passed since they had begun to study the Yasirpipe in depth and thanks to Basim's forced collaboration, some points were starting to become clearer. Learning to play aside, the real treasure, amid that work, were the original construction plans for the instrument, signed by Fawzi himself. Basim had kept with him the notes and research that had led the brilliant Master to give life to his project; they were annotations of technical details mixed with personal reflections, observations on the cultures from which he had drawn inspiration, and the experiments carried out over time before managing to arrive at the final product. In those writings, you could perceive the commitment and passion that the man had put into his work; in the parts where he let himself go to his own thoughts, feelings of frustration or joy for what he was doing transpired, interrupted at times by doubt or the fear of making mistakes.

  “So even you were afraid of making mistakes.” Daysam thought, reading those private thoughts, pleased that his old colleague had also felt that sensation of frustration before dying.

  << Don't you want to try playing it? >> Basim asked him at one point, distracting him from his reading.

  The Rector tried to appear uninterested in the proposal, still mindful of the accident that had nearly killed him.

  << For now, I am more interested in the technical part; rebuilding it will be challenging. And anyway, when you address me, call me “Master”. >>

  Basim had no intention of calling him by that title, for him, only Fawzi was worthy of it, he would rather let Jabar torture him again that label Daysam with that.

  Speaking of which, he wasn't in a good shape. His right earlobe was completely missing, he had lost a tooth from his lower jaw, his left eye was swollen so much that he could barely open it, and he had burns from hot metal on his chest and back. Jabar had been very heavy in forcing him to cooperate; however, every torture he had inflicted had not been intended to kill him, but only to make him suffer terribly until, as expected, he had given in. He had only spared his hands simply because they were necessary to demonstrate how to play the Yasirpipe, otherwise, he would probably have chopped off his fingers too, if necessary.

  Even though he had to give up and cooperate, Basim hoped in his heart that someone would come to save him. He knew that once the Masters learned how to use the tool, they would immediately eliminate him. He tried to gain time by teaching what he knew very slowly; the Sand proved to be a precious ally because thanks to its excessive reaction to mistakes and even to a small lie told about the possibility that it could even explode, it increased the fear to the point of forcing them to be extremely cautious.

  << Is that okay? >> one of the Masters asked him, to see if he was playing the right way.

  << Yes, that's fine… if you want to give the end of your colleague. >> Basim replied.

  The man threw the instrument away in fear and Daysam punished him by kicking him in the back.

  << If you break it I will send you straight to the deepest recesses of the Sohmos underworld! Get lost now! Come back when you are less incompetent! >>

  The little group ran away, scattering like a pack of hares.

  << Are you having fun? >> he asked Basim, hearing him chuckle behind him

  << A lot. >> the young man replied, smirking.

  << Be thankful that Jabar isn't here; I would have already asked him to punish you. >>

  << Why? I am doing what I was asked to do, it is you people who are not capable of learning. >>

  << It's your fault that you don't know or don't want to give the right explanations! >>

  << No, it's you who persist in not understanding. Playing a stringed instrument is not like making metal plates vibrate. Your fingers must be much more flexible in their movements and yours are as rigid as wooden planks. >>

  << Masters are not musicians. >>

  << It means that you will become one, otherwise you will never be able to use Master Fawzi's Yasirpipe. >>

  Daysam, grumbling to himself, returned to Fawzi's plans.

  He examined them thoroughly, trying to find some important detail that he might have missed in the description of the construction phases of the instrument. Many of the materials used were strange, and the assembly procedures were not those used in the local tradition. He thought that if he tried to replace many of those elements, he could still obtain a satisfactory result. Up until that point, he had worked blindly by trial and error, but now that he had a concrete starting point, he felt much more confident, even if he had the annoying feeling that something was still missing.

  << Are you really trying to teach us how to play this instrument? >> he asked Basim.

  << That's what I'm doing. >> the boy replied dryly.

  << But there's still something you're not hiding from us, right? >>

  Daysam fixed him with a penetrating gaze, it seemed as if he was trying to read his mind.

  << To control the Sand, it is not enough to just learn to play… >> Basim began to say, reluctantly. << There is an important factor to be considered: emotions and the way to infuse them into the music during the performance. It is also thanks to them, as well as knowing how to play the notes, that one can give a new kind of strength that far exceeds the current one of the magical element. >>

  << How can something like this affect an object or even the Sand? >>

  << This is how it works; it is not easy to explain it in words. Only when you learn to play the music of the Yasirpipe you will be able to understand it. >>

  << This is all ridiculous. >>

  << Emotions are not ridiculous, especially in this case. >> Basim scolded him with unusual firmness.

  << They profoundly influence our character and our judgment, and the same action is played in music. Especially in this one. I have experienced it myself and can say with absolute certainty that it is a valid connection. >>

  << Connection? Everything you say is nonsense. The Sand never needed this… this… nonsense! >>

  << You're wrong. You really need it. >>

  Daysam growled in frustration, he hated being questioned.

  He grabbed his Yasirpipe, which he usually handled carefully, taking care not to damage it, but now he almost dropped it several times. He began to vibrate the metal plates vigorously, the vibration could be clearly felt even through the floor, even the small pebbles on the ground shook with each note; the Sand inside each jar that had been brought at his request came out rumbling and surrounded him forming a whirlpool. In the din of the combined noises of the Yasirpipe and the Sand, Daysam shouted at Basim asking him what he thought of his strength. He told him that it came from years of study and exercises performed day and night, a result achieved with great effort and application that had nothing to do with emotions... on the contrary; he asserted that whoever let themselves be carried away by them, would end up abandoning their career.

  << The Sand needs individuals with a strong and cold personality just like it! >> the man also stated with conviction.

  << If you are so sure of this, why don't you prove it to me by trying to play Fawzi's instrument? >> Basim challenged him, during his "show of strength".

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Daysam inadvertently interrupted the execution and the Sand, falling to the ground, formed a perfect vortex around him as if it wanted to imprison him.

  He squeezed the balls with which he had hit the plates intensely, giving the impression that his old fingers could break at any moment, while he thought about what justification he could use to not have to play. At that moment, he could not think of anything; his mind had emptied itself into a blank sheet. He tried to stammer something, but his lips were sealed as if wax had been poured over them.

  << Come on. Take it. >> Basim urged him.

  The boy was not stupid, he understood that Daysam was afraid of the instrument.

  He could have mocked him and gained a lot of satisfaction in that moment of weakness, but he realized that encouraging him to demonstrate something he didn't know how to do was worth more than a thousand sneers.

  His proposals fell on deaf ears and the Rector, telling him to go to hell, decided to leave.

  As soon as he was alone again in that large and silent prison, Basim breathed a sigh of relief as if a great weight had been lifted, then suddenly he was shaken from head to toe by shivers that made the pains that had tormented him for days worse. Pretending to be strong was difficult, but at that moment, it was important to stay alive and be able to stand up to those who held him prisoner. He knew he was important at least as long as they needed him, and, for this reason, he tried to buy time.

  But more than anything else, he hoped that at least Sadin had managed to raise the alarm about the barbarians and that the invasion could be stopped.

  “Almighty gods, I pray you, save my house and my people. Take my life as a pledge, if it can save the lives of my people.” Basim prayed, hoping the deities were listening.

  §§§§§§

  The sky had become so black that it seemed to have disappeared because of a curse, only the lightning, with its glare, revealed the distorted shapes of the clouds from which the rain was pouring down. Sadin liked the rain; he found the sound of the drops falling to the ground or on the fabric of a tent relaxing, but that day, instead of considering it pleasant company, it annoyed him. He had the impression that it, as if on purpose, wanted to hinder him as he rode at breakneck speed across the Baharmis plain, but his determination was strong, he felt he could accomplish any feat, not even a barbarian horde could stop him and with the Prince galloping at his side, together with his bodyguards, he had the feeling he could save Basim. He jumped in emotion when Hazma gave the order to stop, announcing that they were almost there. In the darkness it was difficult to see the fortress, not even with the light of the lightning could it be seen, but Hazma assured them that they were close enough to begin implementing their plan.

  << I don't know if they've noticed the light of our torches yet. Sadin, from now on you have to continue alone; in the meantime, I'll wait for a while and then, I'll head to the fort asking for shelter from the storm and if they ask me why I'm in the area, I'll say that we're doing an inspection tour of the territory. In the meantime, you go in and look for Basim; Are you sure you can do it alone? >>

  << If I entered the royal palace without being discovered, this will be a piece of cake. >>

  He didn’t need to be told what to do again, he remembered everything very well: he would sneak into the prison, start looking for Basim, and then wait for Hazma to come and get him out. Going alone was risky, but it would certainly give him the advantage of being able to intervene quickly if anyone tried to make Basim disappear. They weren’t sure what the reaction would be to seeing the Prince, so it was important to be prepared.

  << You must be very careful; if there are guards inside, they will surely be good fighters. Jabar always chooses the best men when he organizes something. >>

  << And I'll show them that I'm even better than them. >>

  Hazma was once again amazed by the boy's determination, he wasn't sure he had ever met someone so young with such spirit.

  << Sadin, one more thing. >> said the Prince, handing him some small black spheres.

  << If you find yourself in great difficulty, use them, they will be of great help to you. They are a novelty brought from the East that not even the General knows about. They have fire and thunder inside; you just have to light this thread that comes out of the hole and throw them towards the enemy. >>

  Sadin took them, then did not wait for them to wish him good luck; he immediately broke away from the group and continued alone towards the prison.

  When Hazma arrived at the fort gate, he shouted:

  << Open up, I'm Prince Hazma! >>

  << Your Highness! What are you doing out here in this weather? >> asked the guard, when he saw Hazma cross the door and open it to let him in.

  << We're doing reconnaissance in the area. >> he lied.

  << We were about to go back, but the storm caught us by surprise. I remembered this place and we headed here, looking for shelter. >>

  It wasn't true, but they wouldn't have dared to doubt his word.

  Feigning a bit of sickness and tiredness, he managed to force Jabar's men to take care of him and his escort. He noticed some secret confabulation, probably to decide how to behave and, possibly, prevent him from discovering what was hidden in that place. Hazma tried to gather information without appearing too curious, especially to understand how many guards were manning the fort in case it was necessary to fight at the moment in which Sadin, hoping that he would not be discovered before, would give the signal to intervene.

  He was nervous, he felt betrayed by Jabar, everything was proving that the conspiracy was real. He was confused and disappointed, there was always that “why?” that repeated itself endlessly in his head and to which he wanted to hear the answer directly from the General's mouth. It was the day he met Sadin that he had that fixed thought, and if the General had not died first, he would have forced him to tell him the truth.

  << Your Highness, can we arrange an escort to take you back to the palace? >> asked a guard, introducing himself as the head of the garrison.

  He addressed him kindly, but his intentions to send him away were obvious. Hazma had no intention of leaving any time soon.

  << No, with this storm, it is too dangerous to move. We will wait until the weather conditions improve. >>

  Meanwhile, Sadin was making his way into enemy territory.

  He had memorized the building's plan, infiltrating that old place would surely be very easy. The only thing that worried him was the state in which he would find his friend. Even if Hazma had told him that they would not hurt him, considering his ability to play the Yasirpipe, it was still a guess and he only trusted certainties.

  The darkness helped him get closer without being seen by the guards on the lookout, and the sound of rain and thunder covered the sound of the stone rolling down as he opened a path at the base of the west side where, according to the map, there should be an old abandoned mess hall. Sadin was only half lucky: the place was abandoned, but it wasn't a messy hall, but a latrine.

  “Again? What is this, a persecution!” he thought, annoyed.

  He had entered; now he had to face the hardest part: finding Basim.

  The Prince's instructions on security were correct; the fortress was not manned by the usual guards he had always managed to escape from, but by individuals who looked much more dangerous; there was something sinister about their appearance and his instinct told him to be extremely cautious. Reaching the cell area was more difficult than expected; there were few corners to hide in and a single misstep, even the slightest noise, would have alerted those guard dogs. It was very cold in there, but Sadin was sweating profusely, the tension was great, his hands were shaking, and his breathing was labored.

  Suddenly he heard music. Even though it was faint, he only had to listen to the notes carefully to recognize it.

  “The Yasirpipe! Basim!” he exclaimed mentally.

  His friend was close by, he was just a stone's throw away.

  “Keep your enthusiasm, old man! Don’t do anything stupid now. You have to find a way to reach him without being seen.” He thought as he looked around.

  << Hey, be quiet here. Prince Hazma is at the entrance. >> exclaimed the guard who alerted the Masters.

  << You must remain silent and avoid any noise until he goes away. These are the orders. >>

  The Masters exchanged alarmed glances. For Basim, however, that unexpected announcement ignited in him the hope of salvation, so much so that he began to ask for help, screaming at the top of his lungs. The Masters tried to silence him, but he continued to scream. A guard then entered the cell and punched him in the face so hard that he lost his balance. His vision blurred, while he was on the ground, the soldier prevented him from getting up by pressing with his foot on his throat.

  << You others go and hide, I'll stay here and watch over him. >>

  The Masters hastily departed, leaving behind anything that might slow their escape, even the Yasirpipe.

  Ah, if only he had been able to catch it!

  It was there, just outside the cell, right in front of Basim. If he had been closer so he could have grabbed it and play it, he would surely have been able to free himself and escape from that horrible place. He tried to fight back, but at each attempt, the guard pressed his throat, suffocating him. He felt like he was going to faint when suddenly the pressure was relieved and, following a thud, the man collapsed to the ground next to him.

  << Damn, this one was really thick head. >> said a familiar voice.

  Basim raised his head, his eyes taking a few moments to make out the person who was shaking him to life.

  << Sadin? >> he managed to mutter.

  As he spoke his name, his eyes seemed to regain their sight, and Sadin's frightened and tearful figure immediately became clear.

  << Where are you coming from? >>

  << I heard the music of the Yasirpipe and hid inside one of the jars where they keep the Sand. Luckily, they were bringing it here. >>

  << You're late though… >>

  Sadin could barely contain himself from laughing.

  << I'm glad you still have the breath to be ironic, but save it for getting out of here. We need to go, and fast. >>

  << So, get me out of here… I can't stand this dump anymore… >>

  << Whatever you want, buddy. Hey, if you want everything to be torn down, try asking the prince. Maybe he… >>

  Suddenly, Sadin was jerked backwards, the guard having regained consciousness.

  Despite the serious wound on the back of his head, from which blood was gushing out, the man attacked him, determined to make him pay. He fell to the ground with Sadin and stabbed him in the shoulder, fortunately missing his aim, aiming directly at the heart. The boy screamed, a piercing pain left him almost breathless. Basim tried to pull the attacker away from his friend, but the latter was as heavy as a boulder and could not move him an inch. Sadin managed to slip the dagger from his belt and with a lightning-fast movement, he tore the man's face, who recoiled screaming while a crescent of blood irrigated him, recoiling as he was stunned with wide-open eyes before screaming in pain. The boys took advantage of that moment of confusion to run away, but the man's screams had already alerted the other guards, who were arriving quickly.

  << No! Everything was going well! >> Sadin exclaimed in frustration.

  He drew the sword that Hazma had given him, but since he was not used to handling that type of weapon, it felt useless and heavy in his hand. Basim rushed to take the Yasirpipe, trying to play it right away, but his numb and painful fingers could not pluck the strings properly, thus not obtaining the desired result, indeed, he risked that the Sand would turn against him. They exchanged a worried look, aware that neither of them would be able to face a direct fight; the only possibility was to run away and hope to reach the exit quickly.

  << Start running. >> said Sadin.

  As they ran down the corridors, they heard the guards behind them trying to catch up with them, yelling for them to stop. They looked like a herd of buffalo, fortunately, they got in each other's way as they ran down the narrow corridor, slowing down the pursuit.

  The boys finally arrived in the atrium of the fortress where, unfortunately, there were other armed guards and even some Sand Masters with large vases overflowing with Sand. Hazma, with his garrison, were beyond the entrance gate, well closed beyond the enemy defense line, even if they had screamed they would have heard them, thanks to the pouring rain that covered every noise. The Masters, armed with their instruments, were ready to make them vibrate… But Basim also had a Yasirpipe.

  A sharp note interrupted the last threat that one of those men was angrily pronouncing, The Sand hit him violently, throwing him to the ground and leaving the Masters shocked by such a quick reaction of Basim. In the eyes of the boy shone a strange but familiar light of determination; you could understand that he had no intention of giving up.

  Without any signal to announce what was about to happen, the duel began.

  Basim's fingers began to pluck the strings with incredible speed, producing a sound that drowned out the vibration of the plates.

  The Masters tried to stand up to him by showing off their skill, moving their hands in sync, blending the vibrations of their instruments into one sound. The strength of their execution transformed the Sand they controlled into warriors who moved with equal precision, demonstrating how the old technique was still valid. Basim, even though he was alone, was no exception, and the intensity of his music, with which he had transformed his Sand into a giant with fists like hammers, proved it. At that moment, he became one with the Yasirpipe and the music reached the highest level, as in Abu Wasaa. Most likely, if it were not for that intimate connection he had established with the instrument, he would not have been able to stand up to his opponents. Even if he did not speak, he seemed to be able to hear in the music the words he wanted to shout.

  There was no record in the history of Sand of such a shocking event, and yet it was happening right there, right now. The combination of the two executions created a deafening symphony, if it could be called that, that not only shook the walls of the prison but also made every human being present stagger, affecting them accordingly. The two forms of Sand, as if possessed by a demon, fought against each other violently. Many guards ran away, others instead, paralyzed by fear, threw themselves to the ground trying to protect their ears with their hands, showing obvious signs of giving in. In Sadin's case, the intense pain in his shoulder allowed him to remain lucid. Being able to observe what was happening, at that moment he understood the reason why many used to call the sounds of the Yasirpipe as the "music of the devil".

  In the most difficult circumstances, Sadin had the virtue of keeping his cool, and this had often saved his life. It was the same now; he realized that he had to do something immediately. Basim was doing well, but how much longer could he resist against four Sand Masters? Only one solution came to mind. He took the black spheres he had brought with him and, with shaking hands, managed to light the small fuses that quickly burned out inside the holes. He dropped them to the ground and they, thanks to the intense vibrations, rolled across the floor as if with their own will, leaving a trail of smoke behind them.

  << Basim! Hold your breath! >> he shouted, as he threw himself at the boy with intense effort.

  Immediately after, the spheres exploded. The metal fragments flew in all directions like arrows that inevitably hit those who were near the point of the explosion. A thick dark smoke quickly enveloped the entire room releasing a strong and acrid smell, the music suddenly stopped being replaced by coughs and sneezes that followed one after the other without pause. People moved in a heap, unable to see beyond the curtain of smoke that burned their eyes. Basim and Sadin, crouched on the ground, slowly crawled towards the exit, trying in the meantime to hold their breath and avoid being trampled.

  Suddenly the smoke was sucked away, carried away by a cold current that cleaned the room with fresh air, Prince Hazma and his escort had managed to force the door after many threats against the guards who, until the last; had refused to let them pass.

  << Freeze! In the name of the crown of Baharmis! >> Hazma shouted.

  Everyone stopped immediately and the guards dropped their weapons.

  One of the Masters attempted to play his instrument, but Hazma ordered him to obey his orders, holding his sword to his throat. Sadin, seeing this, wanted to shout “it’s about time!”, but he simply breathed a long sigh of relief.

  << What the hell happened in here? For a moment, we thought demons were fighting. >> Hazma said to the boy.

  << It was very close, Prince, luckily no real demon, but I almost lost my skin. >> Sadin replied, pointing to the wound on his shoulder.

  << I told you to be careful, damn it! Look at what you've ended up like! >>

  << Your Highness, I'm suffering enough already; at least spare me the scolding. Instead of worrying about me, let's think about my friend who is in a bad way. >>

  Hazma turned to Basim and, for a moment, felt his breath catch.

  Finally, he was face to face with the long searched boy. At that moment, a thousand thoughts crossed the mind of the Prince, surprised by that long-awaited meeting, that he could not decide what to do. Just when it seemed he was about to say something, a large group of soldiers led by Captain Rashad arrived.

  Hazma was surprised, he had not called for reinforcements nor had he informed the captain of his plan. He went to meet Rashad with a bad feeling, further reinforced by the latter's rather anxious attitude.

  << Your Majesty! Thank goodness I found you! >>

  << Captain, how did you know I was here? >>

  << There is no time for explanations, you must return to Baharmis immediately! We are in danger! A soldier has just arrived at the palace with the news that a horde of barbarians has just crossed the borders to the south of the kingdom! >>