Amal should have been waylaid by desert bandits, attacked by Snake Guardians, and nearly drowned more often. The trip was far more comfortable to Copher than he had originally thought. It was true that Trogg ate a bit more than they had, but he had expected it. The bandit was used to rough travel and living roughly, and he spent most of the way either guiding the Camel on foot or guiding it atop it with Emmaline behind. 

At first, Copher looked like one single tower standing in the distance, but over the next few miles it was a true spectacle. Multiple towers of swirling majesty filled the sky, with walls the color of bronze flexing their strength over the arid landscape, even as the sea threatened to swallow the land up from behind. It looked a sight more resplendent than Al-Hiekk, though there was still a rundown quality to the stonework. Araby always had an aged look to it, even with all of the gold and the women and the magic. 

Some would find it cynical, but Amal thought that was apart of its charm. It meant there was plenty for him to hide in as he stole all of the good shit. The thought brought a grin to his face. 

Once through the open gates, it looked much similar to Al-Hiekk. The throngs of beggars and haggard looking citizenry mingling with audaciously dressed merchants and entertainers. The Ogre scratched his 'jumbled parts' as he called them, and picked his teeth with the same hand. "Oi, wa'nt so bad fers some food and that lot of gold. Where else we headed, eh? the lumbering thing asked. Before Emmaline could speak, Amal placed his hands on her shoulders and led her away. 

"We'll no longer be in need of your services, Trogg. Hope you enjoyed the meals!" The cutthroat said to him. 

"What are you doing?" Emmaline whispered acidly, having gotten comfortable with such a large enforcer. 

"We have a trove of gold but as soon as it runs out, so will his loyalty." he whispered back. "I know a backstabber when I see one. I've done it a few times myself." 

The Ogre waved them as they made their way down the street with their packs and their lone camel. Usually Amal was content with finding a nice rooftop or abandoned hovel to sleep in, but he had a woman to entertain and gold to spend in celebration! They might not be of aristocratic birth, and they might both be fugitives, but the golden rule was plain. He who has the gold makes the rules. After a small perusal of the city, Amal and Emmaline found a fine tavern to relax in. A famous Ale House and Brewery of the port city where traders from all over the southern sea drank and talked. 

As Amal went to grab a drink and some food for he and Emmaline, the woman would overhear a conversation in bumbling Arabic. At first it didn't sound like a native speaker, but soon she would realize the man was fraught with emotion as he spoke to a servant of his, begging to know if there was any word of a caravan from Al-Hiekk that had disappeared not a few days ago. Regretfully, the servant had no word, having no inkling that a sly con artist listening had not only traveled with the Caravan, but survived it to tell the tale. Just as Amal was heading back with the drinks...
[@Penny]