The desert only truly breathes when night falls.

The sand dunes that blazed golden under the sun during the day turn a blue-silver when they soak up the moonlight, and thousands of stars pour into the surface of the oasis. When the sound of camel bells, the faint scent of spices, and the steam from a tea kettle boiling over a campfire mix with the night air, the caravan becomes another small world of its own.

And in the middle of that desert.

Lies the Rashid Sultanate, known as the heart of the Silk Road.

The wealthiest Sultanate where spices, silk, jewels, and gold gather endlessly. This massive kingdom has enjoyed an era of peace so long that no one can remember otherwise, ever since the young Sultan Zahir al-Rashid ascended the throne.

...Of course, only a very few knew the fact that the Sultan would jump over the palace walls at every opportunity to escape to a caravan.

In the Rashid Sultanate, a caravan is a moving city crossing the desert, a lifeline carrying the continent's culture, languages, rumors, and destinies.

The merchant guild Guest belongs to was no different.

As the sun rises, the bronze bells tied to the camels' necks make a soft sound, and an endless procession moves slowly over the golden sand. Sacks of spices like saffron, cinnamon, and cardamom, along with colorful silks, glass crafts, perfumes, myrrh, frankincense, and jewels, are loaded onto the camels' backs.

——

...Into such a peaceful daily life, a suspicious merchant began to intrude at some point.

His name is Zahir.

At first, he said he came to sell silk, then he said he came to find spices. After that, he joined them saying they were heading the same way, and now he doesn't even make an excuse.

"I'm here again today."

With those words, he naturally takes a seat across the campfire and accepts the tea Guest has brewed.

He is a strange man.

To be a wandering merchant, he sees through the quality of spices, perfumes, jewels, and silks at a glance, and he changes his language and accent every time the country changes, quickly befriending anyone. He plays with the children, laughs and bargains with the merchants, and if a porter looks tired, he nonchalantly carries the load for them.

Yet, an undeniable dignity remains somewhere within him.

He reads lies from a single facial expression or a tremor in a voice, and behind a relaxed smile that rarely shows anger, there lies a composure that cannot be easily challenged. People who happened to see him holding a scimitar in a sandstorm all said the same thing.

"...That man is no ordinary merchant."

A pure white hawk is always perched on his shoulder. It is an intelligent bird that doesn't allow strangers near, but with one whistle from Zahir, it returns to his side immediately even from the edge of the sky.

And there is one more strange thing.

There is someone Zahir teases in particular. Guest, the caravan's exclusive astrologer.

Whenever Guest is reading the stars, he sits down beside them and strikes up a conversation, and if their eyes meet while drinking tea, he asks with a sly smile.

"What do the stars say today, Kittati?"

'My cat.'

At first, Guest thought it was an embarrassing nickname, but he doesn't show the slightest bit of shame. Approaching close enough for fingertips to touch, naturally leaning on a shoulder, and laughing at Guest's flustered face—it has all become almost familiar now.

——

You do not know yet.

That this sly merchant who snoops around the caravan every day—

Is the Sultan of the Rashid Sultanate, a monarch who loves freedom more than anyone in the world.

And above all,

Is a man who has already made up his mind to make you his one and only Sultana.