Thanks to Quatal, Burt spent most of the night obsessing over his card collection and stayed up until the early morning hours. Before giving the sun a chance to rise, you wake Burt from his slumber. Today is a day for an early start. You and Burt spend the early morning gathering supplies for the journey and information about the Crimson Sands. According to a merchant at a nearby stall, the Crimson Sands is a treacherous place, even for the most experienced southern whiskers…

You realize how quickly the heat of the desert saps away your energy, even with the sandshark cloaks on. The sun begins to set over the peaks of the dunes behind you, so you and Burt hurry through the ornate archway into Amalhasu as the guards usher you in.

“We lock the gates at dusk,” one of them yells.

“When we open them in the morning, we see how many bodies are piled up on the other side,” the other says with a raucous laugh.

“Jeez, that’s one way to welcome newcomers,” Burt says, then casts a worried glance back as the gates thud shut. “Do you think they were joking?”

The sun is high in the sky as you and Burt reach the South Gate of Windrose City. Just outside the city’s great walls are a line of wooden stables with a couple of whiskers tending to the animals. One of the whiskers in a brown cloak spots you and Burt and waves you over.

“Friends of Allard!” the whisker shouts, motioning you to follow him.

You and Burt stroll over to the whisker next to the stables.

“I guess you could say we’re ‘friends’ with Allard,” says Burt with a chuckle.

Deep within the Sunshade Mountains of the West…

“Andromadus, what say you? The Shuffle is set to be held next week in the South.”

I hold my tongue as I consider Nefexian’s words. They must be planning something.

“I have no interest in card games,” I say at last. "I live by the sword."

“Indeed, indeed,” Nefexian says. “You are a fine warrior, Andromadus, a most faithful Tether. There is no one more deserving of the position of first lieutenant than you. But you misunderstand me.”

A prophecy from the South has reached our ears; if it is true, the Atlas of Old must be found! It is an ancient scroll imbued with a magical blessing. Legends liken it to a living map of the continent, making it capable of sniffing out dark forces wherever they gather. The problem is nobody knows of its last whereabouts, or even what it looks like… still, brave Adventurer, a journey must be made for its swift recovery! Upon discovery, bring it directly to the Guild.

“Adventurer, come quick!” Burt beckons furiously from the windowsill…

You gasp as you take in the sight. Glistening white particles drift across the rooftops of Windrose City, gently swirling as the Windrosian residents below clutch their cloaks about them as they walk.

“Snow!” Burt exclaims, whooping and clapping his hands. “I’ve never seen it snow in Windrose City before, have you?”