As the red morning sun dawned over the sprawling city of Essyrn, for the briefest of moments there was a still hush in the air, as if every collective breath within the Desert Jewel was held. And then, a shrill shriek pierced the air from behind the silk-draped balcony of an alabaster wall overlooking the Niafi River. City guards patrolling the streets below the estate stopped in their tracks and peered up incredulously, unsure of what they just heard. Then a second scream broke the silence and a veiled concubine burst through the silk, screaming hysterically.
"MURDER! OH HAKESHNA, MURDERRRR!"
The nearby town bazaar was abuzz with chatter in whispers that morning. Could it be true? More than one witness has heard the girl screaming, and even now the estate of Fazir El-Atwah was being swarmed with armed men and even more armed guards. They had ruthlessly scoured the surrounding neighborhood for signs of the perpetrator, and even waded into the waters of the blessed River to find the killer. They found nothing.
The so-called Bread King had been found sprawled in the middle of his massive feather mattress, stark naked in his opulence, fingers covered in gold rings and gold chains and pendants wrapped around his neck. Everything about him was covered in gold, silver, and diamonds: the bedposts, the ottomans, the chairs fit for a shah. And the gold-hilted dagger plunged deep through his heart.
All of the local merchants conferred with one another before the opening of the market, to discuss how to proceed in the wake of such shocking violence. El-Atwah, the Bread King, was one of the richest men in the city of Essyrn, controlling nearly all of the wheat imports from abroad. He had a stranglehold on the food supply of the people, and had made a very tidy profit from his monopoly. But now that he was dead...
The murder had come just days after an up-and-coming grain factor had been found dead in the alleyways behind the red light district, his throat slashed from ear to ear. The young man had been considered an upstart in the city's extensive trade network, and had posed the greatest threat to the Bread King's dominance over the city's wheat supply. Now that the two of them had gone the way of their ancestors, uncertainty in the marketplace had everybody nervous.
So it was little surprise that nobody noticed the stranger in the marketplace that morning, wandering from booth to booth but never inspecting the wares nor spending the coin on anything. He stopped between two booths selling exotic plants purported to have magical healing properties, but his amber-gold eyes seemed so very disinterested in what the sellers had to offer. Their pitches fell on deaf ears, and their scowls at his retreating back were met with nothing but silent disregard. None of them could remember much of the man's face though, other than those gold eyes of his.
Finally, the Stranger stopped at a small tent where a local baker was selling his freshly baked offerings, ironically made from the same grain bought from the Bread King. The Stranger bought a single loaf and paid for it in coin before taking it over to a nearby fountain and sitting on its edge. Cowl pulled over his head, he sat there motionless, staring down at it.