Aquariia

Here's some flash fiction and the fact-box about the next Atlas Elyden  Map, which I'll be posting next week. I didn't get any feedback about flash fiction :( but will start posting a little something with each region anyway. Perhaps I'll go back and do the same for each region I've done so far too :)  

Please let me know by liking or commenting below, thanks :)
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Simalio pulled on the reigns of the wagon and the aurochs slowed to a halt.
   They were beneath the shade of a venerable oak, its grey trunk twisted and covered in gnarled galls. The aurochs started grazing immediately, their rubbery lips tugging on tufts of dry grass.
   The cotton merchant jumped down and walked to the back of the wagon. He found a bag and pulled out some food. He went to the tree and sat down, his back to the trunk, and started eating. He had half a loaf of rice bread, hard after the better part of a day on the road, and some dried apples. He'd eaten most already and was just finishing off what was left. He always did that, leaving the hard bread for last.
   He finished off the food and stood, looking to the south.
   The road continued to wind ever so gently downhill towards the coast, barely visible in the haze 75-miles away.
   He remembered passing one of the towers of old Parthis not long before. He remembered an old moon monk once telling him that those towers had once marked the coastline.
   As though in reply to the thought, he looked to the right - the west - where Simalio saw the shimmer of the Tabernacean salt flats. He tried to imagine the coastline reaching this far north, the salt flats hidden beneath its surface.
   The thought was gone in a moment, forgotten as quickly as he had conjured it. He adjusted the revolver on his belt and got back onto the wagon, carrying on the road south.
   He followed the road, edging closer to Tabernacea and came across the skeleton of a beast. Desiccated skin stretched over its sun-bleached bones, greeting him as he passed. Behind the skeleton: the full expanse of the salt flats, stained orange in parts where the rusted hulls of ships lay, half-buried for centuries, forgotten by the nation that had once given them life.
   Mosquitoes buzzed around him as he continued.
   Eventually he came to an undulating terrain peppered with large wave-worn boulders.
   The sun was getting low, and Simalio was thinking of stopping for the day when two figures stood out ahead of him. Immediately, he slowed the aurochs to a halt.
   "Moons shine on you, friends,"  said the teamster.
   The greeting was met with silence. The figures stood still, their heavy coats fluttering in the gentle breeze. One unbuttoned his coat, reaching an arm inside. Simalio saw a pistol.
   "Friend," nodded one of the figures, "Odd word to use when addressing strangers, don't you think?"
   "One assumes the best," said Simalio.
   The man's mouth curved into a smile. "How's that worked out for you so far?"
   "Can't complain".
   "Times are hard and you should not be so trusting," said the man, nodding to his companion, who walked closer to the wagon. "So, what are we dealing in today?"
   The man's companion lifted the tarp on the wagon. "Cotton."
   "Where's this going?"
    "Harbour, in Alsham."
   The man nodded thoughtfully. "There's been a change of plans," he said drawing a pistol. It was heavy, dull, probably navy-issue.
   Simalio drew, shot and holstered his gun before the bandits' lifeless bodies even hit the ground. The aurochs grunted and shifted at the noise of the gunshots, but he brought them under control.
   Simalio stood down and searched the bodies for valuables; taking the guns, their bullets, and some Shens that were weighing down their pockets.
   He dragged the bodies away from the road and returned to the wagon. He paused, regarding the spot where he had left the bodies.
   He got went back to them and after a moment of rummaging came back with a pair of shoes and the two coats under his arms.
   He threw them onto the wagon and carried on towards the harbour in Alsham.