[The Abbasid Caliphate, the deserts near Sinai, April of 793]
"FUCKKKKKKKKKKK
Aurelian dropped to his knees, hands digging into the sand. Gabriel threw his head back and screamed at the empty sky.
"Where's the closest city?" asked Aurelian.
"How the hell would I know? Ask them!" Gabriel pointed at the chained slaves.
Aurelian froze. "...Gabriel."
"What?"
"Look at the NPCs."
Gabriel turned, then blinked. "Holy shit. They're gorgeous."
"I know. The engine's pushing limits here."
"Yeah, they even coded sweat detail, what the hell."
They stood there for a few seconds, both of them bloodstained and panting, gawking like idiots.
The women didn't move. A few drew back, clutching one another. One of them glared, tired, sunburned, and furious, as if daring them to try anything.
Aurelian immediately looked away. "Okay, they're staring. Don't make eye contact.
Gabriel sighed. "They're not locals."
"No shit, genius," Aurelian said, looking past them to the darker-skinned men and women chained apart. "These are."
He crouched down, pointing at one of them. "Hey, you. Where are we, and where's the nearest city?"
The man looked between them, two strange armored men with weapons still slick with blood, and hesitated before stammering, "You are in Sinai, sirs… near the old road. The nearest city is Fustat, by the Nile."
Gabriel went very still. Then he reached over and grabbed Aurelian by the shoulder, his voice dropping low.
"Aurelian," said Gabriel.
"What?"
"We are so fucked."
Aurelian blinked. "Why?"
Gabriel's voice rose. "It's 793, Aurelian! We're in the Abbasid Caliphate, the heart of enemy territory, at their fucking peak! From Egypt to Morocco, from the Nile to the Byzantine border, it's all theirs. And we just killed fifteen ARABIAN MUSLIMS in the middle of their empire."
"It's fine; let's just take a ship to christen lands."
"Oh, sure. I'll just call us an Uber and see if they've got camels on the app."
While the two were arguing, the women hearing them speak their tongues and saw them wearing such ornate and strange armor and having emerged victorious against men ten times their number A foolish and laughable hope rekindled: can they be saved?
Can they go "home"? Are these men angels God sent to save them from this forsaken land and from these forsaken people? Who would unleash upon them a fate worse than death?
Irene, summoning the courage she never thought she had. The desperation was a fire in her belly, hotter than the desert sun.
She clutched the chains binding her wrists and forced herself to stand upright, ignoring the pained gasp of the girl chained beside her. "Sires," Irene called out, her voice cracking but resolute, cutting through the strangers' argument. "We beseech you in the Lord's name, take us with you."
The words hung in the heat, fragile as glass, yet impossible to ignore. The arguing men froze, turning their helmeted faces towards her.
Gabriel dropped to one knee in the hot, shifting sand, the blackened plates of his armor glinting dully under the harsh sun. Each joint was reinforced with overlapping steel.
His pauldrons jutted sharply outward, like the wings of some dark angel, and the gauntlets looked capable of crushing bone with a casual squeeze.
The chestplate bore a pattern of jagged etchings, blackened steel etched over lighter iron, catching the sunlight in thin, cruel lines. Even kneeling, he radiated power.
"By the Lord Almighty," Gabriel intoned, voice ringing with authority, "by His covenant and His holy angels, I swear before Heaven and earth that I shall be your shield and your guide. I will not falter, I will not yield, and I will not abandon you into the hands of the wicked. As the Lord has delivered His people from the hand of Pharaoh, so shall I deliver you from this desolation."
Aurelian stood behind him, his armor a layered weave of dark steel and tanned leather, light enough for movement yet bound to protect every vital point. The ridged plates along his collarbone and forearms glinted in the sun.
"And I, too, swear," Aurelian said, bowing his head in solemn reverence.
"Please," a woman cried, clutching her chest, "my daughter… She was taken to Alexandria. They sold her to strangers in the markets. You must save her!"
Another stepped forward, hands shaking. "My sister! She was taken yesterday." Her voice broke.
"Mother," a third whispered, nearly collapsing, "they took my mother away."
It was as though a floodgate had opened. One by one, each woman, trembling and bloodied by fear and despair, poured forth her plea. They spoke of sisters, mothers, and daughters.
"Uhhhh, give us a moment to speak, ladies. "Aurelian, I need to speak with you," said Gabreail, pulling Aurelian away from the sobbing women. "Dude, we need to ditch the
"WTF, Gabriel? You pulled all the promises like Shakespeare, and you are breaking them in the next second."
"Look, dude, I thought it was cool; girls start crying, and they need a shoulder to cry on. I thought I was getting hugged to death, but I didn't. And I didn't sign up for this. There is no way I'm going to save anyone. We are two lone wolves against the Caliphate; we'll be lucky to save them."
"Then let's just tell them. Tell them we can only save them, and there is no way we can go look door to door to look for their families."
"Dude, I can't; they look gorgeous. I can't say no to them."
"Ok, look, how about this: we have gold, lots of gold and silver. What if we buy them back without making any trouble and then get a ship to Rome or something? Does that sound good to you?"
"Sounds great."
"Let's go then."