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Asad finally sat down and breathed a heavy sigh. He'd decided to take a rest in the final bunker that he'd checked for the evening. Asho Duxan, son of the Lord Hasan Duxan, had taken over Asad's shift in making the rounds.

Asad wondered if he would even able to sleep tonight. His body felt weary enough for it, but pre-battle tension had a way of ignoring that. And nighttime, of course, was a favored opportunity for launching attacks.

For a while, he just kept staring out the long, horizontal hole in the bunker. This modest structure was almost entirely buried in the Uego sands, and the nightly wind occasionally whipped a dry spray into the domed chamber.

Glass could've kept the sand out, of course, but any glare from the sun or moon would hinder visibility, which was much more important than any discomfort that Asad was feeling from getting splashed in the face with sand every now and then.

Plus, this wasn't bad. Bad was when the sand swept in and covered his whole body in a matter of seconds. Bad was when the winds had been strong enough to make the sand grains draw blood after pelting him in his youth. Bad required goggles and body armor.

This was just fine.

The pair of silent sentries sitting next to him were wearing goggles and armor, however. And judging from the amount of sand on the floor, still waiting to be removed, maybe these fellows had gotten a taste of bad earlier.

With all that gear on, there was no telling which Hahl they belonged to, but they must've been young if they were stationed here. They might even be non-servants, since he didn't see either of their reapers hanging around.

His own reaper, Qorvass, phased through the wall and hovered over to him. 'I don't think the Vanguardians like our desert very much,' he said in Valgan.

'I'm not sure WE like our desert very much,' said Asad.