Aden harbored his own rationale for avoiding single combat or group duels known as Muharezi. He was intent on keeping his true capabilities shrouded in mystery, unwilling to reveal the extent of his prowess. His father's words echoed in his mind, A true Jinn shines on the battlefield, not in a duel or tournament. It is better for your enemy to remain unaware of what you are truly capable of.

The battlefield's chaos was a Jinn's ally, for amidst the pandemonium of clashing armies, each soldier's focus narrowed to the foe before them. The fog of war aided in concealing the full extent of a Jinn's skills, allowing them to remain an enigma to their adversaries. Jinns' abilities would forever be a mystery, their true potential unveiled only amid the tumultuous fury of battle.

Aden's decision stemmed from a strategic advantage – to keep his enemies guessing, to never reveal the full breadth of his prowess. For a Jinn's true strength lay not in the spectacle of a duel, but in the unpredictable maelstrom of war, where their skills could be unleashed without restraint, catching their foes unawares.

In stark contrast to Aden's reserved nature, Nasser was the epitome of a showman – the kind of Jinn who relished the spotlight and reveled in opportunities to flaunt his abilities. While Aden sought to shroud his prowess in mystery, Nasser craved the chance to dazzle and awe, his every move a carefully choreographed display of skill and bravado.

Nasser thrived in the arena of single combat and group duels, where all eyes were upon him. The Muharezi was his stage, and he was the star performer, executing each strike and parry with a flamboyant flourish. His movements were not merely functional but artistic, each maneuver a graceful dance designed to captivate and mesmerize his audience.

In Nasser's eyes, the battlefield's chaos was too constricting, too unpredictable – it did not afford him the opportunity to truly shine. He yearned for the controlled environment of a duel, where every motion, every feint, and every riposte could be savored and appreciated by those bearing witness.

While Aden sought to conceal his true abilities, Nasser delighted in laying them bare for all to marvel at. He was a showman, a performer, and the Muharezi was his grand theater, where he could revel in the adulation of those mesmerized by his spectacular displays of martial prowess.

Nasser went back victorious, the chedaim Jinn didn't return straight to the cavalry formation, instead, he showed off his blade with the blood of his victim to the cavalry units on the hill. Everyone cheered on him. He was a hero of the cavalry for today. The pride of the Khanadi's cavalry unit. All eyes were on him and yet his eyes locked on Aden, teasing the young Jinn who refused to go as a Muharezin in the opening duel.

Aden gave him back his horse.

"Come on," Nasser teased Aden, "Say it.."

Aden scoffed. "Show off."

"Haha, you jealous? See, this is why I got a pouch full of golds and you got that old lady who can't even warm your bed," Nasser boasted and derided Aden at the same time. "So how is she?"

"Who? Your wife?" Aden made a slick comeback at his friend.

All the fellow cavalrymen around them chuckled, even a cavalryman spat out his drink. They knew Nasser had the prettiest wife among them.

"No, your saggy tits slave," said Nasser.

"Her sons came. They ransomed her." Aden replied.

Nasser frowed his brow. He genuinely was curious, "Really? How much they paid for their mom?"

"I'd give her for free but they insisted on paying," Aden remembered the teaching of prophet Ruhim that one of the best things a man of faith could give to God is to set free a slave.

"A hundred dinars?" Nasser paused and waited for Aden to answer.

Aden was reluctant to answer his friend.

"Fifty? hmm? twenty?" The champion of the day guessed again. "no?"

Everyone in the cavalry unit was listening to their banter, They waited for what Aden would reply to his friend.

Aden kept his lips firmly sealed, not daring to so much as shift in his saddle. Just three rows ahead, the imposing figure of Captain Akim sat ramrod straight atop his mighty steed - a constant, watchful presence.

The cavalryman knew better than to draw undue attention, especially after witnessing the harsh punishment meted out to one of their fellow riders. Suspended from receiving his full spoils of war, the unlucky soul had been caught napping during battle formation - an unforgivable lapse.

"Wait, let me guess," Nasser's voice cut through the stifling quiet, low but carrying an unmistakable mischievous lilt. The roguish grin plastered across his face made it clear he had no intention of holding his tongue.

All around, the cavalrymen twisted in their saddles, eyes alight with a mixture of trepidation and morbid curiosity. What fresh trouble was the incorrigible Nasser courting this time?

"Five dirhams," Nasser announced with a flourish, jerking his chin towards the unlucky Aden.

A beat of silence, then - "Gyahahaha!" The raucous braying of laughter exploded from the ranks, horses tossing their heads at the disturbance.

"Even a goat's worth more than a dinar!" one cavalryman howled from the rear, slapping his knee in unbridled mirth.

Aden's left hand drifted unconsciously to his chest, fingers curling around the small pendant concealed beneath the folds of his light armor. He clutched it tightly, the familiar grooves and contours offering a tenuous tether to restraint amidst the reckless jeering.

All the while, Captain Akim remained a silent, ominous sentinel - his broad back holding the unspoken promise of brutal discipline should the raucous display continue unchecked. The smirking Nasser may have pushed their luck one quip too far.

There was no dull day with the two fellow Jinns in the third cavalry unit of the Khanadi army. They always have something to joke about. The Jinns made the scorching sun above and the burning battlefield below a bit more bearable for the cavalry units.

Captain Akim turned his head toward them—unamused. With a single death stare, all the cavalrymen went silent.

Nasser always made fun of Aden, when he got nothing to come back at Aden.

Aden felt a bit annoyed. It has been two months and his friend still brought up about his spoil of war.

Three months ago they joined the Khanadi banner. The Khanadi army went for an offensive campaign towards the northern border city-state whose name was too mouthful for Aden to pronounce or remember. The city was just a day's ride from Darusalin.

The Khanadi army laid siege to the city-state. After two weeks of a hard-fought battle, they won. The city-state surrendered and the villages around were captured. The commander-in-chief of the Khanadi army distributed the spoils of war to all the soldiers who served in battle.

Everyone got what they fought for. Nasser got a pouch full of dinar gold as his achievement for winning the three-on-three muharezi against the city-state army Muharezin but Aden got an old woman as a slave instead.

Aden had to be grateful, at least he got something as the cavalry unit had little to no part in the siege of the city-state.

The old slave he got was the mother of the two defeated soldiers. She could barely do house chores for Aden. He tried to bring her to the slave market to test his luck but alas, not a single slave trader wanted her.

The two sons, later on, came to Aden and ransomed their mother for a hundred and fifty gold dinars, a price more than reasonable for a slave. Although Aden wanted to give her away for free, they insisted on giving him two elephant-engraved metal plaques—a gold and a silver each sized as a thumb—as an exchange. Then, Aden made them into a pendant because each plaque had a tiny hole.

The plaques might not been much of value but they made a pretty pendant around Aden's neck.

Aden gazed upon the battlefield ahead. Maybe this time, after this battle is over, he would get better spoils of war. No more old slave or a bunch of trinkets. He could feel it in his gut.

The winds of war carried a distinct favor to the Khanadi's army, as every soldier in the yellow banner raised their voice in a powerful battle song. Their frenzied screams of anticipation and courage echoed across the land, reminding everyone that victory was within reach.

The Khanadi army was already gaining a strategic position by the hill due to their winning streak over the last few months of exchanging blows and pushing the Yuza's army into a disadvantageous geographical position.

Yuza's army was running on empty, this battle would offer a decisive victory in the Al-Ard contested territory. They had put too much faith in foreign forces—mercenaries and slaves from far away. This was a mistake Emir Khanadi had not committed, relying instead on local mercenaries and his own regimented army.

Trumpets blared, the war drum reverberated, and commanders urged their troops to take up positions. Lieutenants relayed orders as the two armies prepared for battle. A hush descended upon the field filled with anticipation and dread.

Enemies started to take their battle positions, each side fully prepared for what was about to come. It was a standoff of epic proportions and only one would be left standing in the end.

The battle is about to begin.

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