In the city of Makkah, the afternoon sun is out, scorching and hot. The streets a bustling with merchants, sells men, and idol-sellers.

𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎.𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚄𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚢𝚊, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚢𝚜𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘜𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘚𝘢𝘧𝘸𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦.

Umayya, let out a heart felt laugh at something one of his merchants joked about, before he looks up at one of his servants and smirked.

"You there, bring me another wine."

He said in a rough, and almost demanding tone.