Countdown in the Crimson Wastes

All I wanted was a quiet life and a long nap. Instead, my morning was ruined by a mechanical falcon dropping two documents on my chest: a bill of sale auctioning me off as a warlord's concubine, and a forged military draft notice for a brother who didn't actually exist. Naturally, I hacked off my hair, stole the fake draft, and fled to the Brass-Blood Cohort. Living as 'Khyr' was supposed to be a breeze. My plan was to slack off, do the bare minimum, and sleep through the battles. Unfortunately, my combat reflexes betrayed me, catching the eye of Jalrek, our terrifyingly intense squad leader. Now, Jalrek is forcing me into sweaty, exhausting close-quarters dagger spars every single day. Even weirder, he's acting utterly frantic, secretly demanding tonics from the camp doctor to cure his 'aberrant heart palpitations' whenever I pin him. I'd find his panic hilarious if the Commander hadn't just dropped a bombshell: we have exactly thirty days to cross the monster-infested Ghol-Kadar dunes, or the runic brands on our necks will detonate. With a toxic sand-fever brewing in my veins and a time limit ticking down, can I survive the march without my squad leader discovering the truth beneath my tunic?