Brass-Lamp Janissaries

There was no water for miles, and yet the Djinn of the Brass-Lamps didn't even seem to sweat under the hammering sunlight. Another five miles and my men were dragging their feet through the sand. Seven miles after that, we started to collapse. Then, and only then did the janissaries deign to stop and camp. We broke out what little water was left in the baggage train, trying to ration it out, while the Djinn drank wine. The casual way they offered us water like it had no value to them just pissed me off. I barely avoided striking the officer that entered our camp to make the offer and causing an international incident. They were supposed to be our allies after all, and yet I don't know if we're going to make it out of this dessert.

-Lt. Elias Trevorrow, attache to the Djinn Sultanate from the Kingdom of Avalon