“Due to the sensitive nature of this letter, the messenger must be disposed of immediately.”

Swordeater's voice trembled, while casting a fearful glance up at Sandhailer. A bit shaken he continued, but softer. 

"It is with the deepest regret that we have to inform you of the passing of,-" he stopped for a moment, but rather than being concerned, he appeared incredibly confused. Sandhailer spurred him on with a stern glare. "Of Crown Prince Aintisar Al-Jawhara."

Swordeater swallowed audibly.

"But I'm not,- wait no, I mean…" Wide eyed the man glanced up at Sandhailer, who for the first time gave an equally stunned stare in return. 

Taking a step back he looked the man in front of him over. Unblemished, untrained, naive. The very same man who he had shared his sailer with – had shown his slave brand to like he was a trusted friend – was the prince of everything he had ever known and more.

"You are…?" He asked softly, not certain if he wanted to know the answer. Or whether he even wanted to speak his true name. 

Swordeater,- Prince Aintisar, bit his lip and nodded. Only to look the letter over again, his eyes darting across the words.

"When did you get this?" The prince asked suddenly, while Sandhailer was still torn on whether to fall on his knees or run.

"I,-"

"When did you get your missive?" There was a kind of urgency he hadn't yet heard from him.

"The morning I found you." Sandhailer said, swallowing deeply as he regained his composure.

He watched as Swordeater looked at the letter as if it could catch fire and kill him any moment.

"We were ambushed the evening before. By men on horses. Nobody could travel with news that fast, right?"

"Not even on horse. Only by sailer, and there were no others." Sandhailer confirmed.

"It,-" Swordeater took a trembling breath, and he appeared to get paler by the second. "It wasn't an ambush. They,- they tried to assassinate me. But I switched places… by the Lords,- I…"

The man sank back against the wall, his face aspiring to be the same pallid shade as the marble. Whatever momentary confidence had led him to put the pieces together was stripped away by the revelation.

"This was meant for the Emperor. My father sent me into the desert. He knew the route,- he,-"

"We have to go." Sandhailer said sternly, realising exactly what was going on. "Or we will both die."

Swordeater nodded, and now he had some direction in the form of his command, managed to recollect himself enough to stand up. 

They ran. Through dark alleys. Past colourful streets.

The guards appeared to be on alert, looking out through the streets and from atop horses. In the short time it took to read the letter, a high up command had to have been ordered.

The winding side streets were sufficient to navigate to the gates, but those were well-manned.

"How do we get through?" Swordeater whispered, as they watched half a dozen men guard the entrance to the city.

Sandhailer took off his wind charm, and glanced up at Swordeater. The man nodded decisively.

"We run for it." He said, as the pendant began to spin. A soft breeze announced the arrival of magic, a gentle pulse coursing through the white quartz.

They both ran towards the gate.

"Oi, halt!" A soldier bellowed as they got closer, readying a menacingly curved spear. It drew the attention of all others.

Winds tore through the street, blasting the soldiers backwards. They were both pushed forward, scurrying on hands and feet. He hoisted Swordeater up and past gates, and kept running. 

As far as he could into fields and tall crops. As far as Swordeater could go without collapsing.

Gasping for air, they both stumbled into the tall, golden wheat.

"Sandhailer?" Swordeater asked. He reached a hand out and grasped the man's heaving chest.

"They'll give chase." He panted back.

"My father won't have mercy"

Sandhailer glanced back at Swordeater, whose eyes were filled with guilt.

"When did he ever." Sandhailer scoffed back, which prompted a short, strained laugh from Swordeater. "Come on. I'm not getting caught."

He hoisted Swordeater back up.

They ran again. Through bushes and tall foliage, in an attempt to shake off whomever would follow.