The pair was paraded through the streets, one royal guard in front and one behind them. Evidently, they were at least some way confident that they wouldn’t try to flee. One sentry to each of them seemed insufficient to recapture them should they make a break for it.

This time, a different sort of commotion passed through the folk left on the streets. These were not exchanges of jocularity and amusement, but the sort of whispers from which rumours are born; bewilderment and curiosity running rampant through the onlookers. The palatial guards only ever left the palace grounds for missions of utmost importance –had it been a more mundane task, the City Watch would have been sent instead. Who were these two, and why were they so significant that they needed a royal entourage?

“Why is this happening?” Sehrti murmured out of the corner of his mouth, attempting to hide both his words and his frustration from their escorts. “Father normally pays to keep me away, out of sight and mind…”

“It is anyone’sss guess, master, though yours would likely be better than mine.” Kolaran answered, mimicking his master by speaking from only the front portion of his jaws. “Your lawsss and your etiquette are mine also, but your traditionsss are not…”

“I just don’t get it…” Whilst Sehrti racked his brains for an answer, they turned a corner and arrived on the Main Road.

An immense, ancient path of sandstone forty men wide, the Main Road stretched from the heart of Nahreen all the way out into the desert, ending at the Eagle-Wing Port on the Western Shore. As if to punctuate one end of this great span, the shape of the Palace loomed demandingly, eclipsing all other surrounding buildings.

The lower section of the building was an alabaster-clad dome four storeys high, out of the top of which shot a tower seemingly intent upon scraping the very sun with its apex. At various intervals along this central tower’s climb other, smaller towers branched off. Each ended with a roof capped in solid gold, ensorcelled so as to withstand the harsh noon sun without melting. It looked much like a gigantic fruit-bearing tree, though designed by the meticulous processes of mortals rather than the flowing freehand of nature: precise and mathematical in all its contours.

As Sehrti’s eyes glanced up the central shaft, all of his other thoughts were dispelled in favour of a greater imperative:

He prayed that they weren’t taking the stairs.