After finishing his bath, Amr made his way to his room, the exhaustion from the day catching up to him. The night was settling in, and the wind outside howled against the walls. Sleep would come soon enough, and he welcomed the silence as he prepared for rest.

Moh, however, had no intention of sleeping just yet.

As he descended the stairs of the inn, the dim lighting cast long shadows, his footsteps quiet against the worn wooden floor. The receptionist glanced up, but before she could speak, Moh nodded toward her and said, “Make sure my room is ready when I get back. And leave some bandages there, just in case.”

His voice was low, serious, leaving no room for questions. The receptionist nodded quickly as Moh strode out into the storm.

The sandstorm outside had darkened the evening sky, swallowing the last light of the sunset. Grains of sand hit his cloak with every step, the wind whipping them against his skin like tiny daggers. Yet Moh walked with ease, the storm merely a nuisance. The curse of the sand spirit had bound him to this element, and now, the desert itself bent to his will, its fury unable to touch him.

His destination was the bar he had spotted earlier while entering the city. He had memorized its location without thinking—a habit born of survival and experience. By the time he reached it, the temperature had dropped, the air now biting cold as the night fully embraced the city.

Pushing open the bar’s heavy door, Moh stepped inside, shaking off the sand from his cloak. The warmth of the room greeted him, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. He pulled off his tagelmust, revealing his face as his sharp eyes scanned the bar. It was larger than expected, a wide dining area filled with people seeking refuge from the storm. A staircase led to private rooms upstairs, while the toilets were tucked in a far corner. To his right was the bar counter, and behind it, a striking blonde woman, her features seasoned with time but no less beautiful, stood tending to the patrons.

Moh approached the counter with the same confidence he carried everywhere. His voice, clear and deliberate, cut through the ambient noise. “A Death Demon drink,” he said, his tone suggesting this was not a request but an order.

The bartender’s eyebrows arched slightly, but she moved to prepare the drink. As she did, Moh placed three hashis on the counter—enough to cover the cost—and subtly adjusted his sleeve, revealing a chain bracelet glinting on his wrist.

When she returned with his drink, her eyes lingered on him, clearly expecting something more. Moh raised his right hand, letting the bracelet catch the dim light.

Recognition washed over her face. Her demeanor shifted, and she lowered her voice respectfully. “Anything for Lady Hera, sir.”

Moh’s lips curved into a smirk. He leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Do you happen to know where I can find Lord Julius?”

The woman hesitated, casting a cautious glance around the room before answering. “He arrived two days ago with twenty-five royal guards. Raised the taxes again and left that same day,” she said, her tone casual, though there was a slight tremor in her voice.

Moh’s smirk faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. “And where exactly is he headed?”

The bartender seemed reluctant, her expression tightening as though she feared the consequences of her words. “The rats told me he’s heading west, though they didn’t mention a specific destination. I also heard he left with fewer guards—two less—but I can’t confirm that.”

Moh considered her words carefully, his brow furrowing in thought. “An increase in guards... intriguing. I wonder what prompted that.”

The woman gave a small, confused shrug, clearly out of her depth when it came to royal affairs.

Moh’s thoughts began to race. Julius left so quickly, without any of his usual fanfare. If he’s heading west, it could mean he’s going to Daan—the lawless city. That would explain the extra guards. His eyes narrowed as he bit his tongue in frustration. But leaving two behind... Could he suspect I’m after him? Unlikely, but something is definitely off.

His smirk returned as he shifted topics. “I’ve also heard that the old fool is paying your city a visit. Do you happen to know where I can find him?”