Among the rickety huts, one dwelling stands out. It is spotless, as if scrubbed inside and out several times a day. Ink and herbs scent the air—a rarity in a poor quarter like this.

You knock lightly. There is a flurry of movement inside. After a pause, a wary eye peers through the crack. You explain your business, but the door slams shut without a word and the lock clicks...

House after house greets you the same way, as though you have committed some great offense. You leave the street empty-handed—Samir, my old friend, it's not that I won't help you!

When you relay the news, Samir only sighs and shakes his head, saying no more of the altered records.

Conditions:

• Counter (7000729) ≥ 1

Result:

• Adjust Tag (recovery) of Slot #2: Add 1

Among the rickety huts, one dwelling stands out. It is spotless, as if scrubbed inside and out several times a day. Ink and herbs scent the air—a rarity in a poor quarter like this.

Yet the people's suspicion of you, the uninvited guest, is still strong. You knock one door after another; no one answers, not even for gold, not even for goodwill. At last you reach a small door at the far end. A girl no taller than your waist opens it. She wears rough but clean clothes, her hair loose in the style of an unmarried girl of the old kingdom, her face defiant.

"What do you want?" she demands, one hand on her hip, the other on the doorframe. "Grandpa is sick. He won't see anyone, and you can't pay the fee anyway—eh?

She straightens up, taking in your robes, your jewels, your uncalloused hands. Then she extends her palm. "You want to see him? Then pay. By the stars above, I'm saying it—no coin, no entry!"

You cannot help but smile and pour the gold you brought into her hand. The gleam lights up her face; her mouth falls open in amazement. At last she recovers, runs inside calling for the old man, and you naturally follow.

Conditions:

• Counter (7000729) < 1

The house is narrow and dim. At the far end an old man lies propped on his bed, a massive book in his hands. Eyes hidden beneath heavy brows and disheveled hair fix on you.

"Lackey of the Sultan," he pronounces. "Why are you here?"

"It's Samir—" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"That disgrace—" He clutches his chest, coughing violently. The girl rushes over with a cup of water, scowling at you.

"Thank you, Anita..." the old man mutters, then glares. "Don't speak his name to me! He and that court favorite can keep licking—"

He glances at the child and swallows the rest of the insult. One can imagine how harsh the rest of the words are.

But that's acceptable to you. You are only a messenger, so you ask if there is anything you can do.

"How laughable. How arrogant! The Sultan's nobles think they can do anything. Then bring back our homeland—kill the Sultan! Can you do that?"

Anita looks anxiously between you and him. She is young, but even she knows such words are dangerous.

"I only regret not finishing my medical codex before death... I have no wish but loyalty to one king, no stain on my name. Not like him. Not like Samir! He even dares to keep the name I gave him! That treacherous cur!"

Another fit of coughing.

"I need more money for Grandpa's treatment," Anita bursts out, holding out her hand. "You said you would help him—then give me money."

"Anita! Don't beg from him!"

"But you need them!"

"I'm a physician. Nothing can help me now!"

They argue before you, then both turn to you.

"You truly want to do good, lackey of the Sultan?" the old man says, gripping Anita's shoulder with surprising strength. "Take her with you. I found her on the street. She's brighter than any noble's child. She knows manners, can read the stars, some medicine, even letters. Give her a future. Don't let her end up like the other women here, big-bellied too soon, gossiping at the well all day."

He pushes the girl toward you. She stares at him in disbelief, then bursts into tears.

You hesitate, asking if there is anything else.

"Nothing. Nothing but this. Don't speak to me of that... bastard. I have no such son. I should have strangled him before he ruined our name."

He turns back to his great book, ignoring you and Anita.

After waiting a moment and seeing he will not change his mind, you lead the crying girl away.

Conditions:

• Counter (7000729) < 1

Result:

• Card (Anita)

Action:

• Rite: Homeland's Blood

A fistful of gold for some poor girl?

The Sultan questions you with lively interest: What kind of girl? How old? Pretty? What color is her hair? Does she know any intriguing tricks?

He keeps pressing until he realizes you simply handed out money with no "more exciting" arrangement attached. His interest fades at once, replaced by suspicion—after all, the girl appears to be of the fallen kingdom's blood!

Conditions:

• Counter (7000729) < 1
• Slot #2 Has Tag (Gold Coin) ≥ 10
• Slot #3 = 1

Result:

• Card (The Sultan's Suspicion):
  • Tag (Owned): +1
• Clean Slot #3: 1