The arid winds of the Salt Flatlands were familiar to all the poor Cookies living there. Despite all, they persevered.

“By the tides! It’s the Knights!” A local Cookie gasped, wiping soot from their pale face.

Sel Gris Cookie landed first, his silver sword spinning to a rest in its sheath. His eyes softened as they spotted the Cookies of the lands. “Halt, my friends! Don’t be shy—the Kala Namak Knights have arrived.”

Pink Salt Cookie bounded down her horse with a grin. “Look at you, all dusty and brave! Did you guard this whole stretch alone?” She crouched to a young Cookiw, her spear leaning against a rock.* “C’mon, partner,” she called to Sel Gris Cookie, “they’re just Cookies, not bandits.”