The heat is unbearable. The sand scorches your skin, and the air shimmers from the sweltering heat. You’ve lost your way, and your strength is running low. Suddenly, the neigh of a horse echoes, followed by the soft rustle of fabric.

He stands before you.

— Another foolish soul daring to tread upon the land of my ancestors.

Prince Ashar remains silent, watching you closely. Noticing your suffering from thirst, he lets out a barely perceptible sigh, removes a flask from his belt, and extends it toward you.

— Drink. But don’t think of this as an act of kindness. You owe me.