Zhao

-18 First-Aid kits

-90 gallons of water

-378 field ration kits

-2 water filters

-18 reflective blankets

-18 sleeping bags

-9 tents

-2 binoculars

-2 Compasses

-18 pairs of goggles

-18 full-body cloaks

-18 face masks

-9 gas lanterns

-3 camelephant beasts of burden

And all of this still only enough to last us a week in the desert, maybe 2 if we rationed properly. All else in the way of food and water would not be acquired by other means if we ran past our designated lifespan.

This was the most equipment we had been enabled to requisition, and even then, we had more than pissed off logistics with our request. It had been a strange sight watching Harzek come to my defense in helping me to procure the equipment we'd need, but no part of me expected it came from an intrinsic desire to help me on my "quest" rather than ensure that his men wouldn't drop dead while they tagged along on my "crusade."

We left from Shibi at sunup that day, or, more specifically, 0800.

The first stop along our way would be the Misty Palms Oasis once again. We had come equipped for a worst-case scenario, but the ideal scenario would be to secure transportation and safe passage. We figured that, at the Oasis, we may be able to either conscript the hire of the Beetle-Headed Merchants, or potentially even a Sandbending tribe. With the tribes, however, we ran the risk of treading upon local rivalries amongst the tribes and may accidentally sour relations with our intended targets, the Hami tribe. Rather, it would be best to operate through the Beetle Merchants, less likely to face betrayal when faced when a fully-armed squad of Fire Nation soldiers as opposed to 2 envoys as it had been last time with only Zaik and me.

His apprehension, though hidden from full public display, was noticeable to the searching eye, himself clearly not particularly enthused in working with the same group of people we'd shared less than ideal interactions with last time.

The trek to the Oasis was but a short one, but we all knew that it would be our last taste of civilization to follow for the near future. Harzek gave his men leave to occupy themselves in a way they saw fit, but in a manner befitting Fire Nation soldiers, clearly advising against drinking, doping, or whoring. For the men, however, any opportunity to have some last time for themselves before taking those first steps beyond the fringes of the organized world, was good enough. Naturally, Harzek and I would not be sharing in the revelry. We were here with the intention of securing transportation, and we would do just that.

We made for the bar, ensuring to arrive their first, wanting to ensure that the first impression the patrons got of the Fire Nation's appearance here would be that of us rather than a sortie of men indulging in the last whiff of normality.

Upon noticing the two of us headed for the tavern, a good number of our soldiers broke off their headings, now pondering new stomping grounds to claim as theirs for the next few minutes where they would be out of sight and mind of their CO. All the better, imagined.

We allowed ourselves to enter through the tarp entrance of the saloon, unperturbed by the looks directed our way by an assortment of characters choosing the exterior of the tavern as their station, likely intent on sizing up those who entered and exited, scanning for easy pickings.

The interior was just a run-down and dingy as it had been last time, splintered wooden tables scattered haphazardly across the floorplan, cracking wooden support beams threatening to bring the roof down on us at any moment, the sole sense of structure in the establishment being the bar and its owner, a bald man sporting 2 dual swords that served the purposes of both self-defense and drink preparation, I managed to observe as he wielded his blades with stunning fluidity and precision as he mixed a custom drink for his present patron. I resisted the urge to order one for myself, simply enamored by his skill, desiring the refreshment less than a better view of his performance.

We took a seat at a table, ordering no drinks. We weren't here to blend in. Our presence was to made apparent to everybody present. We'd approach them when we deemed it right to do so. Some poor sod realized that soon enough when he, a simple merchant, luckily not connected to any larger group, approached us in an effort to sell his wares. What was his mistake would be to our benefit as I grabbed his shirt from the collar with my right hand, raising a yellow flame with my left to his face, pulling him close and whispering loudly enough for him, and perhaps a few others around to hear, "We're not here for you, and it's bad business to intrude on the Fire Nation, now get lost!" I let go of his collar, shoving him away.

Judging by the look on Harzek's face when I returned down to my seat, he approved. The whole thing was just a performance, and he could tell that much. Sure enough, the eyes of the bar were on us, among those eyes, a group of merchants in a well-lit area of the main room. Some less unseemly eyes followed us as well, be them of sandbenders, a good number of them even having their eyes shrouded beneath their goggles, curiously having chosen not to remove them despite being seated in a rather dim interior.

"Well, that got their attention."

"It better have."

"Think the merchants will prove useful."

"I should hope so. I'm not particularly fond of the idea of trekking through this desert for months on end, our food barely enough to last us 2 weeks."

"There, I'll find myself agreeing with you."

We couldn't allow ourselves to wait too long or we'd risk diminishing the impact of our performance over time. So we simply allowed 5 minutes to pass before we both came to the mutual agreement that then was the time and approached the pair of merchants where they were seated.

"Was wonder when you two would come over," commented the one on the right, a lighter build to him, at least in comparison to the more brutish character across from him, but still possessing a degree of authority in the way he spoke, leading one to consider it was him with the superior position at this table, at least, until we had come along, that is.

"We do things at our own pace," I say, Harzek and I, without asking, taking the two empty chairs at the table.

"I take it the two of you aren't here for a game of pai sho?"

I didn't bother to play along with his quip. We were here on business, and we intended on cutting straight to the chase. Harzek had conceded to allowing me to handle the negotiations we make, this being more so my mission, and so I spoke up, ignoring his comment, saying, "We'd like to arrange for transportation and safe passage across the Si Wong."

"We don't do escorts. We're merchants. We carry goods, not people, unless of course, a life of servitude is suiting you two."

The Si Wong slave trade was infamous, rival tribes, more often than not, selling those they captured in raids as slaves to the Beetle Merchants. What exactly the merchants did with them was a subject that was known with little certainty. Most assume they're either sold to the Earth Kingdom as serfs or to the Fire Nation as laborers and factory workers, but there exists rumors here and there, the most notorious of them being that the merchants harvest the bodies for parts, selling them on the black market, or even the not so black market, claiming it to be animal produce. "Not interested," I said. "We don't plan on taking you out of your way. We're interested in touching base with one of the tribes-The Hami."

"The Hami, eh? We happen to be on good terms with them? We'd hate to disrupt that and bring the enemy straight to their doorstep."

"We're not their enemy. We desire information from them."

"What kind of information. Maybe we could be of some help."

"Unless you know anything about ancient monuments hiding in the desert, then no, I don't think you could be."

They took note of the insult, but they were businessmen. Where they saw the potential for cash, they'd be willing to turn a blind eye to an affront on their dignity here and there.

"Well. We didn't exactly have any plans to visit them any time soon, but our next trip will be taking us around the area. I suppose we could drop you off around there, or make a small detour and bring you straight to them for an additional fee."

"How much are we talking?"

"50 gold pieces."

That's it? "Done."

"Each." Of course. "Extra 10 each to make the detour."

My face hardened. It was a hefty price they were asking for, but I needed to think it would be made worth it. I nodded. "Deal"

"And we don't care for your Fire Nation credit. We prefer something more, physical."

Of course they did. We'd been ready for that inevitability. The anaphora came back to my head. 'Deals in the Desert…'

Except this time, we didn't come alone. They tried to screw it, and it would be them paying the price. I nodded to Harzek, who understood quickly enough what I was asking him to do. He promptly stood up, putting aside the knowledge of his superior rank for the moment, and returned to the mounts to fetch their payment: 1,020 gold pieces. A good payday for simple merchants, but hardly even a scuff on the Fire Nation's resources.

We remained seated at the table, no words shared between us, the negotiations going no further until the money was on the table, in full sight of them, which, soon enough it was, just a little over 1000 gold pieces, up for the taking. Lecherous gazes painted their eyes as they gazed at the hefty reward, until I reached forward, closing the case the money sat in, the room suddenly becoming all the darker without the overhanging light reflecting off of the brilliant gold. "When would we leave?" I asked.

"We can be ready in the hour."

I smirked. As expected, the solution to all of life's woes always seemed to remain the same. Money.