Well, that had been profoundly disappointing. At least for his client and sort of for him as well. He'd accepted the job for his own personal reasons and partly because she'd said she thought there might be something magical about the place. Seeing new things was always interesting, so why not? The muddy, hot reality had been incredibly depressing. Not to mention the various wild creatures that had seemed hell-bent on ripping them both limb from limb. By the time they reached the miserable pile of rocks that was waiting for the, his sword arm had started to get tired.

The journey back had been about the same and it's with a sense of relief that he follows her into the room they've rented and face-plants onto one of the mattresses before he rolls over and cranes his head to peer at her.

"Hurt? Nothing besides a few scratches here and there. I don't think any of them really got through to me," Eskander shrugs and then his expression settles into a sly grin, "Bit of a wild goose chase, though. Who puts a pile of rocks in the middle of a swamp, anyway? And then calls it the Valley of the Scribes?"