The Desert People

“Lord Arthur!!”

“Wait—there’s no killing intent coming from that creature. If we harm a desert beast, it could ignite a war with the Desert People!”

Tristan was the first to react, drawing his bow toward the monster charging their way—a massive sandworm—but once again, Lancelot stopped him.

The sandworm’s skin was a mix of hard scales and slick hide, rough to the touch yet built for sliding through sand with minimal resistance. Its pale, sandy-yellow color blended seamlessly with the desert terrain. Its circular mouth opened wide—an abyss lined with rows of spiraling, razor-sharp teeth, forming a living cage of death.

Being swallowed by such a thing would mean instant doom.

And in that deadly moment, Arthur…

“It’s all right. I’ll protect you.”

“Huh? Big brother?”

“Prince Arthur, what are you doing!?”

Ignoring Morgan’s near-scream, Arthur stepped forward, placing himself between the girl and the sandworm like a human shield.

It wasn’t courage born of chivalry. Having been mauled by a cockatrice, an acid slime, and the undead army, Arthur’s pain tolerance was long gone. He figured he wouldn’t feel much anyway—and if the girl died, it would just leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“Prince Arthur!! I’ll—”

“Calm down, Lady Morgan.”

Lancelot interrupted.

“That beast isn’t hostile. It’s likely tamed—probably by the Desert People. We shouldn’t act rashly.”

“And what if you’re wrong!?”

Morgan snapped back.

“Grrrrrrrr!”

The sandworm roared and opened its maw right in front of Arthur—only to halt its movement completely.

From behind a building, a young woman emerged, about eighteen, with tanned skin and dressed in the traditional garb of the Desert People. A flute hung from her hand.

“…So the stories were true. They said the Britannian prince had no combat ability—I wondered what he’d do. But to shield a child of the Desert People with your own body… I didn’t expect that.”

“Miranda, big sister!?”

The young girl darted to the woman’s side—apparently, they knew each other.

“Desert People or not, pain hurts all the same. Especially for a child. It’s only natural to protect her. Now then—who are you?”

“Whether it was just intimidation or not, you realize the crime of raising a weapon against royalty is grave.”

Morgan said coldly, stepping forward.

Arthur’s group fell into formation beside him—Tristan and Morgan readying their weapons, even Lancelot placing a hand on his sword.

The desert girl bowed her head.

“First, allow me to apologize for testing you. Lord Arthur, my life is yours to take if you wish—but please, hear what I have to say. The Desert People are on the brink of extinction because of the Army of the Dead.”

“What?”

Arthur gawked. He had already defeated the Army of the Dead—hadn’t he?

“What do you mean?”

“They came to our desert… as if fleeing from something. They devoured our food, our beasts—everything.”

“I see…”

Morgan murmured.

“So when they fled from Lord Arthur’s holy light, the horde sought refuge in your lands instead. To think they’d go into the barren desert… they must have been desperate.”

Sweat trickled down Arthur’s cheek.

‘Wait—that means this whole mess is… my fault, doesn’t it?’

He’d been too busy protecting the golden wheat at the time to think about where the surviving monsters went. How was he supposed to know they’d migrate here?

He straightened his back and put on his most princely tone.

“Don’t worry about it. Royals are used to being tested. Now—what exactly do you need?”

“…”

Arthur shot Morgan a sly grin, still thinking this was some kind of trial she’d arranged. He didn’t notice how the others around him stiffened in shock.

Even though they’d been attacked without provocation, he showed no anger—only kindness. That was what stunned them.

“Thank you. The city guards will arrive soon. Please allow us to visit tonight and take you to our home. You may bring your escorts as well.”

“See you later, big brother Arthur!”

“Grrrrrr!”

As the girl blew her flute, she and Miranda climbed onto the sandworm’s head, which burrowed swiftly away into the desert.

A few moments later, the town guards arrived, too late to witness anything. Watching them, Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“So the Army of the Dead’s still around, huh… And man, riding that sandworm looked fun.”