Summer in Sindria is hell, Alibaba decides to himself as he practically wades through the muggy halls of Sinbad’s palace.

It’s humid like Balbadd, yet the sun burns like it did in Qi’shan. It feels like the worst of both places, though the ocean breeze is as refreshing as it is nostalgic.

He sighs, ruffling his sweaty hair. Sword training in this weather sucks, but he knows that it’s the least he can do to repay Sinbad’s generosity.

‘Ah, I wonder what the others are doing right now?’