Bahadur Al-Hakim had gotten more maps, and a particualary detailed one of this island he was sailing towards. Thiasa was the name of the island that he would make his own. Looking at it, he saw that the kingdom of the Scalians was to the north and the Barbarian lands were to the south. There were two rivers, though the southernmost looked larger. And there was a town on the map as well, Portsmouth. That is where he would go, he decided. They would land a bit north of this town and set up their encampment. Then they would go to the town and seek information. There were malleable barbarian tribes to the south, revolting peasants in the countryside, and a kingdom to crush to the north. He smiled and walked out of his study and onto the deck of the Sapphire.

His crown vessel was 450 feet long and crewed by 100 of the most competent sailors and officers he had. He had 500 men aboard total, 400 of which were itching to get to land and sink their blades into an enemy's throat. The first 100 wanted to stay on his ships and destroy the enemy from afar or by sea. He had 4 more of these vessels, all manned the same. Fast ships, but ships of war.

He was a Prince in exile, and he had the scars to prove it. No claim to the throne of Arabia, having watched his mother executed -- he was not exactly favorably disposed towards his motherland. He was more concerned with the upcoming battles though. The future is where his victories would be. The near future.

He had heard of this island by chance. It was in an intriguing position. Close to Scalia, an ally or a province to be, in Bahadur's mind, and unstable to begin with, he would position himself to take over the island and use it as his staging grounds. Grinning once more, he looked out and saw his soldiers and sailors scurrying to take care of the business at hand. Speaking to the Admiral, he let him know the course and the destination.

A good herbalist was able to keep a great variety of herbs on hand. Maha, for all her knowledge, never quite had that luxury. The bag she kept on her was quite large, but it only held so much. It also didn’t always keep the dried plants whole or uncrushed, which kept Maha from keeping herbs whole most of the time.

But if she was to help the good doctor at his own practice, not only would she have the space to dry and keep herbs, she would also need to have them on hand to make the poultices and salves. With her rent at the inn paid for several days and the weather clear, Maha decided to spend the day on the prowl for any useful herbs.

The nearby areas were filled with flora, but very little of it was useful to Maha’s cause. Her gaze wandered to the south. Lawley as the furthest south she had ever been—she knew that there were dangerous men in the southernmost part of the island, and while Thiasans were a dangerous breed on their own, she at the very least spoke their language. It would be interesting to see the traditional botany of the barbarians, but Maha knew that some things were too risky for scholarly pursuit.

But the day was young, and she was certain that there was a good distance between her and the border. Going just a few miles further then she was used to wouldn’t get her too lost.

It was night when the galleys departed from the big warships, taking small amounts of troops at first to secure a perimeter and do some more preliminary scouting. The first scouts had already gotten back and told Bahadur about the best places to set up camp and he had taken their advice. Now, they were moving in.

Before dawn had even arrived, nearly all of the soldiers and animals had been moved out, stables constructed and tents put up. Bahadur's tent was in the center of the half moon fanning out from several yards from the beach. The stables were nearby, as well as the officers and adviser tents. Beyond that, the enlisted tents finished out the encampments with latrines far enough away to not smell too terribly, and downwind for the most part as far as they could tell. The large war ships moored themselves and dropped anchor near where they were, setting up a five pointed star where each was protected by two others. They left some of the smaller ships on the beach with tents for the sailors nearby. They were in view of the main camp.

Bahadur strolled through his camp, checking things were as he wanted them to be and talking with his men. To a man, they were excited to be on land, and they knew that action was not too far away. They were ready and eager for the fighting to begin. They were also glad to be on land again, even though the ships had been like a beach anyways. The calvary men were especially glad, able to use their horses once again.

Bahadur spoke in their native tongue to a scouting party, getting some to scout more of the surrounding area, sending 3 to Portsmouth to get information on the town, and telling a few more to go ahead and round up a foraging party to hunt some game and gather some wild vegetables. Depending on what the scouts sent to Portsmouth came back with meant how much food they could depend on the locals for, but Bahadur did not want his men hungry in the slightest. Fresh food was the best, even though they had plenty of dried food from the voyage. No one was really interested in eating more of that over salted fare, least of all Bahadur who enjoyed a well cooked meal to its finest and always had.

His instructions out, he went back to his tent and began to study more of the maps and literature he had on the island of Thiasa, smoking from his favorite pipe a pinch of Arabic tobacco, the best in the world. Light but strong, excellent flavor. He was in his element, relaxed and ready for excitement.

For the first few miles, the landscape didn’t change. The same flowers, the same bushes, the same trees. Maha’s mind began to wander, gently gliding over faraway subjects. She stopped to eat, but she couldn’t tell you when she had, or what she had eaten.

Tracks in the dirt reminded her of an old, dirty dog one of the vendors who lived in the market kept. He was mean and vicious—he was a guard dog, after all, and Ali and his little troop of friends had made it a game to taunt the thing. Then one day the dog actually bit one of the boys, and that game was quickly ceased. Abbas—was that his name?—had to have stitches on his face, and probably still had scars on his face.

There was a cloud in the sky that looked particularly bilious, and that made Maha recall one of Samira’s lifelong dreams: to be a dancer. Samira had first gotten the idea after she had snuck out of Mother’s watchful eye and made it all the way to the more seedy streets in Damask, where she had caught sight of a dancer, barely dressed, but she had the prettiest veil. Samira had demanded to be taught to dance, and eventually, Mother had caved in. Their mother decided that it would be better to have a skilled, high class dancer to teach Samira then to have Samira sneaking out to the more questionable parts of Damask. Maha remembered how Samira practiced, and how Samira made Maha practice with her. She wondered; was Samira still dancing now?

Hours passed without Maha’s notice, until finally she stumbled on a root, and it occurred to her that it was well into evening. Barely any sun remained and the moon gave no light of its own. Maha didn’t panic; she was still in too dreamlike a state to feel much stress.

Without the light to search for suitable kindling, and without flint to start a fire, Maha settled against a tree, and hoped God would keep her through the night. He had kept her through worse, after all.

Maha was not aware that she had awoken late the next morning. The area around her was still the leafy green forest of Thiasa, but the muffled voices she heard were definitely not. She rose, without bothering to clean her face, driven by curiosity and tried to follow the voices. She managed to catch up to three young men, all speaking a dialect of Arabic. Parsan, if Maha remembered correctly, Parsan b’s had a queer quality to them. She leaned in closer, trying to make more sense of their words. They were looking for beasts, hunting. Behind them were some that they had already caught, but nothing large. How many people were they trying to feed? More importantly, who were the people they were trying to feed?

Something snapped, and Maha froze. She had kept relatively quiet, trying to avoid their attention for the moment, but they had surely heard that. She darted behind a tree, but Maha knew she had never been very good at hiding.

The scouts had been moving about silently as could be, but the newest member of their group, looking up at the wrong instant at a glimpse of motion, gave them away. A twig snapped under his foot and he got a terrible glare from his superior.

A finger going from the superior's hand, circling up and motioning to capture the center. They'd all seen the movement and heard the person, this was an opportunity to learn something without much fuss. The scouts circled silently and crept up, all appearing at the same time two yards from the quarry, bows drawn and an arrow nocked, the string tight.

A heavily accented, nearly impossible to understand Scalian issued from the leader's mouth, "Put down any weapons you have, answer me truth."

One of the five scouts put down his bow and moved forward, carefully out of the line of sight of his fellows, to begin to frisk the woman they found, who in the dark, looked rather Arabian which was odd in and of itself.

They surrounded her, and pointed weapons at her. Obviously, they were not quite as friendly as she could have hoped. She held her hands up—why did everyone think she was armed? Women here did strange things, but Maha did not think they prowled about with weapons! “I am unarmed, please, put down your weapons, please.”

What could they want with her? She had run into hunters before, had bows pointed at her before, but never this many. Most of the time when she ran into others in the wilderness, they simply gave her an odd look, then went on their way. Most people did not want to interfere with her life, and she did not want to interfere with theirs.

She felt someone’s hands on her, and Maha shrieked, trying to push the man away. “What do you think I am, some whore? Do you treat your mothers and sisters like this!” She snapped, this time in Arabic.

Responding back in Arabic, the soldier replied, "Only when we're in hostile territory and I think they may have some weapons. You're clean, however, so come with us. We didn't think that there was an Arab presence here, and General Bahadur will be very keen to know all about you."

Working their way back, guiding the woman silently and not bothering to answer anything more she might've said, they took her to the closed tent flap that lead to Bahadur's tent.

The scout spoke to the guard outside, who allowed them in, and all of them bowed to the great Bahadur, forcing her to come down with them before the commanding scout gave the report, outlining the area around them, explaining about the city nearby, and most importantly, the Arabic woman that they found.

"Thank you, Captain. Leave us." Bahadur said to the Captain. Looking at the woman, his piercing gaze staring at her, he said amicably, "I hope they weren't too gruff in bringing you to me, would you like a drink?"

Maha had at first complained about their rough treatment, demanded to know who they were and where she was going. But the men didn’t respond, and so Maha eventually fell quiet.

They took her to a camp, where Maha was overwhelmed by the sight and scents reminiscent of a home so distant. The men took her into a grand tent, and began to speak to a man, their leader, Maha assumed. And then their leader dismissed the men, and Maha was left alone with this stranger.

In Damask, it was unheard of for a woman to look a man in the eyes. Boys, yes, particularly young sons that needed to be punished. In Thiasa, women did not stare men in the eyes all of the time, but it was expected that a woman could do so. It had been difficult at first, but Maha had learned to peek at the eyes of men. But this man… His eyes were too sharp.

"I hope they weren't too gruff in bringing you to me, would you like a drink?"

Maha took a moment to respond, then finally said, “I-yes. It would be appreciated.” Her nerves were on edge—being accosted by a group of Arabs in the middle of Thiasa and being dragged to their camp, how dare he speak so lightly of such a matter? Maha growled, and looked him in the eye. “And who are you, oh grand falcon, allowing your men to accost a woman in the dark, and then have the gall to offer her a drink?!” The rage fled Maha and she looked away, slightly nervous. Who he was didn’t matter—he had power over her in this situation, and it wasn’t smart to challenge him so openly.