Chapter 2

"Just make sure she gets wherever you're going safely, please," Amira said to the captain of the ship she had just commissioned, "She's bound to be unhappy when she awakes but I must put some distance between us before then."

"Still don't know why you harbor such affection for someone who tried to take ya out miss, but I'll do what I can for the girl," the captain said, "Balbadd will be the perfect place for her if she can learn to mind her elders."

"I couldn't agree more," Amira returned the captain's warm smile and then headed off towards a horse waiting for her. Reim wasn't too far away but if the girl happened to wake up before they left the harbor she still wouldn't be far enough away to go unnoticed.

Scheherazade had to have answers. And maybe then she wouldn't have to keep hiding her identity now that she'd captured a second dungeon. The riches that had been won were on their way to Reim on another trading ship and would most likely arrive long after Amira but she had to move quick with an assassin on her trail there was no telling what else was waiting for her.

The journey was uneventful but that was a welcome change for Amira in the last couple day's events. She was looking forward to a hot bath and a warm meal by the sea. One of the things she loved about Reim was just how much of it overlooked the sea. She could never get enough of it. The desert was never as comforting as the vastness of the blue water. As she galloped into the first Reim town she could hear it; those wonderful crashing waves on the harbor. As if they were calling for her themselves they crashed in rhythm. Things had changed much in the time she'd been gone. You never really knew exactly how long you spent in a dungeon until someone told you how long you'd been missing. But she'd been in town after town tracking down that last dungeon for at least the last two months, could have been closer to three. And things looked much different. In fact the merchant guild street was unusually packed. There couldn't be a new addition to the guild could there?

Ah who was she kidding, she couldn't stop to find out, and this wasn't her final stop. She had to be heading to the capitol, Remano. Lady Scheherazade was waiting. Without stopping to think much she kept riding, though the sea kept her glance for more than a few streets.

She was greeted warmly by the guards as she entered Remano. "Greetings Lady Amira, news travels fast," one of the guards said as she was helped from her horse.

"Is our great Lady waiting for me per usual?" Amira asked with a smile.

"She is out in the gardens today. Something about the coming autumn and wanting to welcome the change," the guard responded.

Amira loved the garden. But Scheherazade rarely went to the gardens. Secrets were kept there that few were privy to. But none the less Amira thanked the guard and hurried off to spread the news.

Before she could even enter the courtyard adjoining the garden a voice like honey was carried over as if upon a breeze, "It has been quite some time Amira. Did one dungeon really give you so much trouble?"

"No, milady," Amira responded, "Finding it proved more difficult than anticipated but the dungeon itself was almost too easy."

The golden curls of the Lady Scheherazade bounced as she turned to greet Amira. Her green eyes shone with a passion rarely seen in ordinary men or women but it seemed to be a constant for this goddess. "Glad to hear it. But I fear there is more to this story than a hidden dungeon. You've been gone for nearly half a year."

Amira almost took a stumble backwards upon hearing that news. "Half a year?" the words escaped barely over a whisper from her lips. A few months of intel collecting, sure, but half a year? She'd spent maybe an hour in that dungeon. "Milady, how is that even possible? It's been maybe three months."

"You know as well as I that dungeons exist on another plane, but this one was different still. I gathered as much information from here as I could while you were gone. It seems that the realm of this dungeon may have been on another plane from another plane." Amira wasn't sure what to make of the words she was hearing. Her world was still spinning from losing six months of her life to the capture of a single dungeon. "In order to get to this place that the dungeon was at did you not have to cross the boundaries of something mystical?" Scheherazade prodded hoping to pull her back.

Amira thought about the journey through a sort of tangible blackness into the city of death and nodded slowly, "So, what you're telling me is that I entered another world to capture a dungeon not meant for this earth?"

Scheherazade laughed, "No, my child. I mean to say that the dungeon may have had a more difficult test to find it rather than fight through it."

As much as Amira hated to admit it to herself, that made sense. After all besides the poison snow there wasn't a fight waiting for her. Mennea had said to be the Djinn of hearts and minds so maybe it had all been psychological. "But milady, it was too easy to get there. I don't feel as though I accomplished what you sent me out to do."

Scheherazade gave her a solemn look, "You have come back with the Djinn and the winnings are on their way back. How do you not feel accomplished?" She seemed almost annoyed for a moment, "Maybe you just want to wallow in some self-pity? You lost a few more months than you anticipated and now you want a moment to cry about it?"

Amira wanted to be offended by the thought that she was attention craving or that she wanted to wallow, but she realized her great lady was right. And she didn't wallow anymore. When she wanted to wallow she got angry and had a fire to do something about it. Why now was she feeling suddenly more like wallowing? Was it because of the things the Djinns had been saying to her? Was it making her want to follow a more righteous path? She laughed to herself. Her heart was probably as black as those leading Parthevia and she wasn't about to give that up.

Amira pulled herself straighter and crossed her right arm over her chest. "I am gravely sorry, Milady. I don't know what came over me. I am your sword and I shall conquer all you send me to."

"Give me the rest of your report, Amira," Scheherazade said, her tone gave way to her impatience.

"It took time to find someone who had the key to descending to the dungeon. Once there it was quite easy to take, but there was an assassin that cornered me for a short time. She said her master was from Reim and wanted to take down all Parthevians who were dungeon hunting. I was not able to discern a master from her but she was no older than eight so I had to let her live," Amira fired off as if she were a soldier giving his end of day report.

"An assassin? Do you suspect they are from my court?" Scheherazade asked.

"I gave away naught that I was working under your orders nor that I had ever had contact with you milady." Amira stopped and thought back, maybe she was missing something. With everything happening so fast maybe she missed something, "Milady, I think she may have been sent from someone in your court. When I mentioned I was allied with Reim and had in fact defected she hesitated, but only for an instant, as if this was new to her."

Scheherazade paused in thought, "And you've no idea the member of my court that would accuse you but not tell his own assassin that you are a fellow countrymen?"

"Milady, many of the members of your court have yet to trust me. But that does not mean they are traitors of you," Amira responded.

"If they don't trust my judgement of you, they are traitors. I never asked them to trust you directly, just to trust that I knew what I was doing," Scheherazade seemed more and more upset as words flew through the room. "Go enjoy the city for now. If this girl comes looking for you, bring her here and we will press her for answers."

Amira bowed respectfully and made her exit. This was the one town, well rather the one country she didn't feel she had to sleep with someone for a bed. So she visited the bathhouse and enjoyed a long soak. Her hair hadn't felt clean since the last time she'd been in Reim, and whenever she was sent out next might give her the same result. Maybe if it were cut she'd have less trouble with it? No, she couldn't give up the one thing that her mother had always praised about her appearance.

She thought back to her mother, her father, Parthevia before it had become a cesspool. Pride in a nation, that's how they all felt, before the country got greedy. The sun would shine and people going about their daily life were always nice to see. Sure it wasn't like she'd grown up in the slums, or even a poorer village, no; her father had been an advisor of the highest order. Granted her mother had been a whore that he'd fallen in love with. Amira was maybe the one legitimate child that had come from her mother. But her father had shown such love and adoration for the most important women of his life. But it ended all too soon when she was no more than eight. Her father was opposed to forcing each member of society into the army for a time. Drafting soldiers was no way to go about making the country as great as they wanted.

So her father had arranged for Amira and her mother to be smuggled out of the city. It saved them from execution but not from the lives of traitors. Forced back into working Amira and her mother slaved away. Well, slaved compared to the pampered lives they were used to. Her mother served tables at the tavern visited by the higher ranking soldiers, and tended to them in their beds, while Amira learned to cook and bake as they waited for her to come of age. Anything they tried to save up to flee was quickly taken by horrendous taxes. But Amira would always fondly remember her mother braiding her hair at night singing softly as the moon rose.

When she was ten she had a scuff-about in town and met a boy, about her age, who was every bit as spirited as she ever was; they became fast friends, he taught her how to handle a sword properly and in turn she tried to teach him the royal archery she'd picked up – though he never seemed to be able to focus on one target long enough to shoot off an arrow. If she wondered how anything was back home, it was probably him. He'd have been drafted years ago, he was good with a weapon but his father had died in the war so who knows how it would have gone for him? She never got to see the day that he would have been drafted because after two years her mother passed away and in order to try and keep her safer the innkeeper had sold her off to a travelling merchant. Funny that slavery had been considered safer than a life of whoring back home. It was on that journey that the merchant happened to be stopping by the royal palace that she'd learned that her father all those years ago had tried to start an uprising and that one of his soldiers had finally found her mother, whom was still trying to raise a rebellion and that she'd been successfully taken out. There were plans for the girl as well but she hadn't yet been found.

A year passed and the first dungeon was captured. Originally she'd heard it was the Parthevians but eventually heard that it was a rouge that'd taken it out and was now out on his own, a traitor. New dungeons started popping up everywhere. And then the merchant happened into the Reim territory. This was where Amira had met Scheherazade. At only thirteen she was starting to grow in her chest and thus coming of age. It may have been luck, though Scheherazade called it fate, that Amira was trying to skirt off into the crowds that day, but they found each other and Amira had been sent out to her first dungeon a year later. To this day Amira still wasn't sure why she'd been sent off to fight a dungeon alone but she had done it. Though her first dungeon was mostly riddles and traps followed by a behemoth, it would have been nice to at least have a little help. Scheherazade had gifted her with a platinum bow for her accomplishments, knowing for some time the love of archery the young girl had.

After her soak in the bath Amira went off to one of the ladies who usually braided her hair for her, Joanna. "If it's not too much trouble I think I need something a little newer," Amira said sitting gracefully at Joanna's feet.

"Too much hair? Getting in your way again?" Joanna laughed, "Anything in mind dear?"

"Something that won't remind me of home. I've had far too much reminders of Parthevia in the last week," Amira responded. She wasn't really sure if there was something that could not remind her of home but she hoped there was.

Joanna was a miracle worker with hair; the intricate weavings of her braids always seemed to center Amira. And the pulling at her scalp was almost a spa treatment. When Joanna was finished she passed Amira a mirror, her hair was pulled up into tiny braids all along her hairline in rows back into a ponytail. "I know you like your braids, darling, but I figured this might make you feel more Reim than Parthevia," Joanna said with a smile.

She was right, Joanna was never wrong, but it brought a little tear to the corner of Amira's eye. It certainly wasn't her mother's braids, but it was time to move on. If not now, then when? Amira thanked her, and left a generous tip before dressing and wandering into town.

The sun was starting to set now, she hadn't realized how long she'd soaked in the bath, must have been hours, and yet she hadn't turned to a raisin. She laughed to herself, would someone really shrivel up so badly in a bath that one might become a raisin?

The tavern she frequented while she was home seemed abuzz with excitement. When she walked through the door the patrons were all cheering for someone. Her usual table was the only one empty so she sat and ordered a round with dinner. And three rounds of drinks under her belt and she was too drunk to figure out who or what they were cheering about. Man one of these days she was going to learn her limit before she hit it.

All she knew was that someone handed her a scroll as she was leaving. Some new hero story or some shit. She walked along the cobblestone path back to the estate, more drunk than she would have hoped for the night, but hey she'd missed an extra three months of drinking, might as well catch up right? Who was she kidding, she was a mess. She at least had finally figured out why she was feeling so damn nostalgic though; her birthday was fast approaching. Why this was to come to her while she was drunk? Who knows? There were some out there in the world that thought you had more clarity while drunk than while sober. Those people were idiots but hey even a broken sundial is right twice a day, right? Huh, that phrase seems like it would fit better in a different era. Drunk thoughts are always fun. Amira figured she'd better hurry home to bed before she started seeing her life played out as words on a page.


Hungover, Amira awoke to the sun streaming in the window. She wasn't as hungover as she could be or had been, but the pounding in her head reminded her of the time she tried to swim from a boat to shore and the waves kept crashing over her head. She looked over to her bedside table remembering the scroll from last night and decided to open it.

"An autobiography? Really?" Amira couldn't remember much from the night before but someone had definitely told her that the scroll was the adventures of a new hero. If an autobiography counted as a hero story she had to read it, if for no other reason than to find out why everyone considered this person a hero.

Once she started reading, though she felt she could never put it down. The tales of a dungeon capturer such as herself, but these stories were much more fanciful. She felt even less accomplished with her own capturing while reading his exploits. He came across hardships, saved people and made friends. He even had a damn noble goal while capturing his Djinn; a better world without war. Why? Why was this damn hero tale from the horses' damn mouth getting to her?

She checked the beginning of the scroll in hopes of finding the author but it figured, she got it from a bar and someone's booze had smudged the ink. There was no new word from Scheherazade so Amira decided to venture into town and become the fool for asking.

"Do you know who this is by?" She asked the innkeep, "Someone handed it to me last night and the ink is smeared."

He laughed, "You don't know?" It was a while to get him to calm himself enough to answer, "That kid that put on all the shows. He even had one at the Coliseum. Quite spectacular, you mean you never saw it?"

"I haven't been in town for long," Amira responded.

"Oh," the innkeeper apologized, "He runs a trading company locally. Sindria Trading or something along those lines, his name is Sinbad."

Amira looked down to the scroll in her hand. Sinbad? She hadn't heard that name in all her years away from Parthevia. How was it that she was hearing it now? It couldn't be the same Sinbad she was once friends with could it? There was only one way to find out. Without even thinking to thank the innkeeper she was off to find the Sindria Trading Company.

A/N: 2AM story writing at it's finest. Maybe some errors in there, sorry if there are. I'll go back and fix them best I can if someone wants to point them out. Really enjoying setting the base down for this story but I guess I should mention I'm going off of my knowledge from the anime not the manga! Sorry for any of you who are upset by this - can only work with what I have. Anyway still not sure where the bulk of this story is heading but open to ideas! (also if anyone is interested in me trying to set up timelines correctly here the next chapter is like maybe a day or two after Sinbad has returned- end of season 1 of the anime)