At the Heart of the Kavir Desert [Artefact]

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Just after the Sun had begun his evening routine, Zubaidah arrived in lavish Salehi where fertile grasslands met the Kavir desert. Walking around this newly-revitalised town, she saw massive inn and taverns for Tisifuni travellers; crowded streets; brilliant shops; Isadoran officials lounging on raised diwans; ladies in gigantic hats, with waterfalls of silken veils and scarves, waving white gloves as they talked about the latest Salehi scandal. She spotted mercenaries from Khat Ankh and merchants from Saffat; distinguished Reiman gentlemen and former Parthevian nobility discussing brands of mint tea with one another; even a Sassanid missionary preaching on Artaxerxes’ behalf.

    Salehi had always been a mixing-pot of Parthevian culture, where the Reiman north met the Kosrovian south, but Zubaidah had never seen this last-stop oasis quite as bustling as it was nowadays. She guessed that the treaty signed at Sunset Bay had allowed for business to thrive within southern Parthevia. Well, she knew for certain that her Ash Company played a large part in that respect. After all, where else could those ladies have purchased their hats and silken garments?

    But she was not here for a tourist’s browse of Salehi. Within the hour, Zubaidah had left behind those crowded streets, travelling onwards from the so-called ‘Rostam’ road past the equally-busy suburbs. Walking down the sand-ridden road, palms waving on either side, she began the long journey towards her newest excavation-site.


It was the first week of springtime, the broad Urkadi had burst its banks, and all the land here - between the river and the sand where Kosrow had once made camp - was hidden. Hidden beneath the vast and tranquil waters of what seemed a tideless sea, fringed with dense masses of palms, girdled in the far distance by fig-trees that looked almost black, broken by low and tiny islands on which palms kept the small white and brown houses in their feathery embrace. Above these isolated houses, storks circled and sang their hoarse tunes. In the distance, the linen sails of boats glided, sometimes behind the palms, coming into view, vanishing, mysteriously reappearing among their narrow trunks.

    Here and there were the short-haired animals of the Kavir desert, wading homeward through this sea: a camel with a trader atop its back; a buffalo separated from his herd; two donkeys followed by two women carrying water-jugs upon their heads. Zubaidah even spotted a Shar rider urging their horse across the river-banks of the Urkadi. As she continued, however, the palms and fig-trees became sparse and sparser, overcome with the red-tinged sands of the Kavir desert. Travelling even closer, beyond the pallid line of the shapely dunes, Zubaidah spotted a golden obelisk jutting outwards into the grey-blue skies. She had heard the rukh whisper about this ruin for weeks, enticing her to discover the Kavir's treasure...

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Before she could scout the obelisk for any entrances, Zubaidah caught sight of something white against the red Kavir sands. Unsure what she might have discovered, she approached with some apprehension,


When she recognised them as bones bleached white under the desert sun, Zubaidah became more confused. After all, she had only discovered this location after weeks of research with the Toads. Could someone have already looted the obelisk and left these bones after their work was done? As she looked closer, however, Zubaidah realised that she must have been wrong when she started reading the note attached.

‘Gel Malen? I remember the Reiman Archaeological Society mentioned that name. Isn’t he the explorer who disappeared in the Dark Continent…’ Taking out her notebook, she furiously scribbled down her confusion - and curiosity - onto paper, ‘Hmm, why on earth has someone left the remains of someone also named Gel Malen here? Oh, maybe it’s the start of an old-fashioned mystery! I do love a good mystery.’

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‘Whaaaa - ’ As the skeleton hopped onto his feet, heaving a backpack behind himself, Zubaidah scrambled away in complete confusion. ‘What the fu - ’ And then he bowed towards. ‘Huh?’ He bowed towards her and stretched out a bony hand, as if offering to help Zubaidah back onto her feet. ‘Well, you’re awfully kind for a skeleton, aren’t you?’ Accepting his assistance, Zubaidah would notice that Gel would bow his head in thanks for her compliment,

‘I must say that I’m sorry for my rudeness earlier. You would think that my experiences would have gotten me quite used to curiosities like a living skeleton, but I suppose that there are still some surprises left. Not that surprises aren’t welcome, of course.’

As she paused for a second, watching Gel cock his head in confusion, Zubaidah read the weathered note which had accompanied him once more. ‘Not to presume what you would like to do, but would you want to join me in exploring this site? I must admit that I am ill-prepared for this expedition - and the help would be much appreciated.’ Watching him enthusiastically nod his head, Zubaidah guided him towards where the Toads had scouted the most likely location for an entrance into the Salehi obelisk’s. Taking out a shovel from her backpack, and offering another one to Gel, Zubaidah began excavating the Kavir sands.

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‘Well, I’m afraid to admit that this isn’t quite working, is it?’ Knee-deep within the red Kavir sands, Zubaidah shook herself free and looked back at their handiwork - or lack thereof, ‘What’s the best option here, Gel…’ Seeing him point back towards nearby Salehi, Zubaidah sighed with exasperation, ‘I wish that they would help me, but my colleagues in the Toads are already exerting most of their efforts in persuading the governor of Salehi with other matters.’

Scrounging about her satchel, however, Zubaidah would consider another solution, ‘Could you hold this for a second?’ After handing Gel a tin whistle, Zubaidah would find a set of delicate gauntlets, ‘I acquired these magic items from a ruin near Amakh. You could even say that these gauntlets inspired me to pursue more Parthevian excavations! They’ve certainly served me well in finding other ruins beneath the sands…’ After donning them, she would pour magoi inside and cast Sol Tigre onto herself and Gel, ‘You see, the Kavir desert is made out of sand that is ninety-five percent composed of metallic particles. In fact, the red colour comes from particles rich in iron! So what would happen when you repel those metallic particles…’

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As they made their slow descent beneath the desert sands, Zubaidah could feel embarrassment redden her neck, realising that she had misremembered facts about iron sand and iron oxide. Taking a small peek behind her, however, it seemed that Gel had turned his attention away from Zubaidah and towards the rust-coloured structure emerging from below the Kavir desert.

Thankful that she had not fully embarrassed herself in front of Gel, Zubaidah would scope out the safest method of entrance into this submerged tower, gesturing that Gel should hold onto her. Seeing that the doors were locked, it seemed that the broken windows were her best chance. Moving towards the nearest window, she would launch herself through a well-sized gap in the painted glass and control her descent using Graceful Airs. Once she landed, and ensuring that Gel was still there, Zubaidah would then survey the interior, looking for the route forwards.

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As she landed cat-like upon the wooden floor, Zubaidah would spot the broken pieces of glass and attempt to put them together. Unable to piece the full picture, however, she would instead file them away into her mental bank, relying upon her Sleuth’s Eye in case it became important to the overall narrative of this ruined tower. Continuing onwards, ensuring that Gel stayed closeby, Zubadiah would rely on the Sol Tigre bands to illuminate her surroundings. If it was not enough, however, she would whisper to the rukh for guidance, hoping that they might act as her eyes and ears. And so, stumbling through the murky darkness, Zubaidah would push forwards through the North passage, wondering what she might find.

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As she made her way through the passage, keeping Gel close at hand, Zubaidah would start to quietly narrate her previous expeditions to him. She told him about her discovery of the Parthevian villa before the Ash Company’s first fashion-show; the joint venture into the Reim-Parthevia complex in Lamet; the original mausoleum of Shah Kosrow. She was not entirely certain why she told him all these things, but something felt right in sharing these stories with him. Was it his namesake, the famous explorer Gel Malen, which made him seem so receptive? Whatever the case, she would tell him and he would listen intently until…



Years of abandonment had made the floor brittle, and their weight was enough to make it snap with a near-silent whish. Midway through another story, Zubaidah took a second to realise she was falling, but soon reacted by grabbing ahold of Gel and slowing their descent with Graceful Airs. As they slowly but surely descended into the room below, however, Gel was the first to react - and point towards the oddly-shaped structure further inside. Zubaidah recognised the vague but unusual shape from the painted window, realising that this must have been the forge-like structure she had seen.

But was this related to the castle on the hill where she had located and claimed the magic artefact for the Hashashin? It seemed to hum with the same frequency, but Zubaidah was uncertain whether she should connect them so quickly. Salehi and the Saffat region were historically far-removed from one another, but perhaps this structure predated even the history behind them both? Stepping forwards tentatively, as if it were some predator, Zubaidah would place one hand on the forge lookalike as if to activate its magic circle - and another hand would use Solomon’s Empathy to ascertain who might have built it.