Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2015 13:12:36 GMT -5
A good night's sleep had been exactly what Turif had needed to recover. He had first ridden towards Zahran, but it reached his attention that the Caliph was not there. He and his family, and some key players of the city, had gone to the western capital. With everything going on at home for his tribe, he had forgotten about the goings-on of others entirely. At least this lapse in attention had not been costly, as he was able to diverge from his path, heading west and out of Rohari.
Truthfully, perhaps riding alone for Bordelaix had not been the best of ideas for Turif. He had ridden hard and fast, with little breaks in between, but timing was not his concern. There was no event in the capital for which he felt the need to arrive on time, after all, and those denizens of the city were not the audience he sought. No, his worry had been that as a lone rider, he could be outnumbered and overwhelmed no matter his strength. Thankfully, he'd ridden much of the time at night, was selective of where he stayed, and remained alert without stop for the seven days now he'd been upon his horse.
To wake in the strange city, though, was not the beginning of a vacation, it wasn't a dream or fairytale come to life. It was a strange, uncomfortable, and suspicious reality. Thankfully he knew that the Caliph couldn't possibly choose to stay here for an extended period of time, and would be returning to Zahran before long. Turif also had the option of returning himself, however the prospect of eternal boredom, on his own in a city which he did not call home, away from his people and with worry for his cousin... no he did not want to be in Zahran.
He had a message to deliver to the Caliph. That said, he also needed to eat, and acclimatize just enough to his surroundings. He also had to find where the man stayed, in all that, to eventually give him that letter, penned by his Emir, his cousin, Gafir ibn Rizul al-Jasham.
Turif was not daft enough to believe he would go unnoticed, but he did not think he would be openly assassinated and certainly not so swiftly upon arrival. Not that he could be certain that anyone was out to find him, he had his doubts to his safety among westerners nonetheless. As such he wore a clean change of clothes that he'd brought along, and after a bout of cleaning himself headed out of the lofty room he rented and sought a place to eat elsewhere, where he might be better able to talk with locals.
Truthfully, perhaps riding alone for Bordelaix had not been the best of ideas for Turif. He had ridden hard and fast, with little breaks in between, but timing was not his concern. There was no event in the capital for which he felt the need to arrive on time, after all, and those denizens of the city were not the audience he sought. No, his worry had been that as a lone rider, he could be outnumbered and overwhelmed no matter his strength. Thankfully, he'd ridden much of the time at night, was selective of where he stayed, and remained alert without stop for the seven days now he'd been upon his horse.
To wake in the strange city, though, was not the beginning of a vacation, it wasn't a dream or fairytale come to life. It was a strange, uncomfortable, and suspicious reality. Thankfully he knew that the Caliph couldn't possibly choose to stay here for an extended period of time, and would be returning to Zahran before long. Turif also had the option of returning himself, however the prospect of eternal boredom, on his own in a city which he did not call home, away from his people and with worry for his cousin... no he did not want to be in Zahran.
He had a message to deliver to the Caliph. That said, he also needed to eat, and acclimatize just enough to his surroundings. He also had to find where the man stayed, in all that, to eventually give him that letter, penned by his Emir, his cousin, Gafir ibn Rizul al-Jasham.
Turif was not daft enough to believe he would go unnoticed, but he did not think he would be openly assassinated and certainly not so swiftly upon arrival. Not that he could be certain that anyone was out to find him, he had his doubts to his safety among westerners nonetheless. As such he wore a clean change of clothes that he'd brought along, and after a bout of cleaning himself headed out of the lofty room he rented and sought a place to eat elsewhere, where he might be better able to talk with locals.