Ohacha woke in an uncomfortable hammock aboard The Sweet Wind, a converted merchant outrigger from Osiidan. The ship was small but nimble over the sea, with a central plank-built hull supported by double-outriggers for stability. There were two small rooms aboard the vessel. One was for the captain and one went to Aramuk. Ohacha, along with the rest of the small crew, slept below deck above the ever-sloshing pools of water that found their way into the bottom of the boat. It was the very antithesis of the flagship he expected to make the trip to Caso in. The only consolation was that the ship still smelled of citrus and tea leaves, rather than fish as he had expected. Over all, the Sweet Wind was the perfect ship to send an advanced party aboard. And thus, it was the perfect ship to smuggle two princes out of a city undetected.

Ohacha scowled as he slipped out of the hammock. His toes sunk to the ankle in the pool of water and the ship lurched under the impact of a wave. The rocking of the ship gave him that queasy feeling that sailing on an empty stomach gave. He climbed the ladder up onto the deck where the small crew was keeping the ship steady and the small crab-claw sails aligned with the wind. Bright sunlight ceded its claim to the huge puffy clouds that floated across the sky, dotting the sea with dark shadows and webs of bright blue.

Ohacha wandered around the small vessel towards the helm, reminding himself this journey was about the destination, not the uncomfortable journey taken to get there. The Sweet Wind was originally intended to join the armada sailing to reclaim Gaag with Ohacha’s father; a little makeshift transport vessel for soldiers and equipment. But, to the vessel’s eventual good fortune, it took on water and had to return to port at Ayagiim for repairs. It had been the only ship from Golan’s invasion fleet to return.

Aramuk and Gaba’ké sat by the rudder with the ship’s captain. They had been sailing for Casoya with a hand-picked crew of loyal soldiers disguised as messengers. It was a risk, leaving the bulk of their forces behind, but the swiftness and secrecy of their departure allowed them to escape Onera immediately and prevented their enemies the opportunity to react. The larger force, now led by Lord Kulimas and Cask, would follow in the coming days. The plan had been Rolena’s, who Ohacha now spotted at the bow of the ship. Ohacha had always felt good about the Oneran mercenary, and her rescue of Aramuk from certain death at the hands of that Careyago assassin had only further solidified his trust in her. She leaned casually over the bow, eyes keen on the horizon. She taken easily to her newly elevated place at the side of lords and princes.

“The island of Caso lays ahead” Rolena called back, gesturing ahead and to the left. All aboard turned to follow her point. Ohacha turned his head and squinted, but saw nothing more than the endless waves. It took another few minutes before he too saw it. For there, clinging to the distant horizon, loomed the isle of Caso. It was still too far away to be anything to the young princes’ eyes but a blob of colours; browns and greens that seemed to disappear into the clouds.

It took the better part of the day to finally reach the island and up close, Ohacha had to admit that Caso was domineering. When compared to the sparse rocky shores of Ayagiim, the crumbly bluffs in Onera, and the rolling lowland plains his home kingdom of Gaag, Caso seemed monumental in size and scale. The rocky cliffs of the island pierced skyward from the sea like towers of earth and stone. They glowed with the fire of the setting sun. Dark rock and dense vegetation covered all that could be seen. Waves lapped noisily against the prevailing cliff faces. Small coves worn out of the rock revealed beaches of black sands and sapphire bays. Large seabirds launched from outstretched branches over the rocky cliffs that flew out over the ship and westward towards the setting sun. It was otherworldly and Ohacha’s neck started to hurt from craning it upwards to stare.

Ohacha finished his unsatisfactory evening meal and emerged from below deck looking for a steady place to relax and digest. He spotted Rolena, still at the bow. She sat reclining up at the dark karst cliff faces. Ohacha joined her at the bow and stopped close enough to where she could see he was there, but not so close as to sit next to her. She wore trousers, a wide brimmed sunhat, and a plain overshirt. Ohacha realised this was the first time he had ever seen her without her armour and weapons. He was surprised to find she looked, well, like a normal person without them. She could have been anyone and everyone without them; a baker’s daughter, a noble’s wife, a stranger at a party. It occurred to him that he didn’t really know anything about her. Not who she was nor where she came from before their paths crossed. Or what she was running from, in choosing to follow them across the sea.

“It’s beautiful here” Rolena said, tipping up her hat to see him.

“Aye” he said. It was a non-answer.

“How do you feel about having to leave Onera?” she asked.

He pondered for a moment before answering, “It had to happen one day.”

“You won’t miss it?”

“It’s hard to miss a place you never really knew. One where you never felt at home” He answered. “In all the years we lived at Lord Anup’s estate, I left the grounds perhaps a dozen times. I must have spent countless days in the gardens looking out over the sea or in the tower staring out across the city. It’s a strange life, imagining what the world is like from afar.”

“I can only imagine…” Rolena trailed off.

“Have you ever left Onera before?” he asked, curious.

“A few times” she answered. “As a young girl, I spent a several months in Towiin seeing distant family. My father was also a mercenary and he bought us passage through work. Then as a soldier, I went back.”

“Then coming with us to Caso won’t be entirely unfamiliar” Ohacha remarked.

“Spirits no,” Rolena said, “its completely different. This is the first time I ever left my island. The first time I’ve lost sight of land. The first time I’ve done anything truly on my own.”

“You’re not alone.” Ohacha refuted.

“You understand my meaning” Rolena said.

“I do” he conceded. “What happened to your father?” he asked.

“He got old” she said, “and then he got hurt. And then he stopped being able to provide for the family and I stepped into his shoes.”

“He’s still alive?” Ohacha asked.

“Yes,” she said with a hard sigh. “He’s still alive. What about you and Ander? You were close friends, right?” Rolena asked. Ohacha’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes” Ohacha answered somberly.

“You haven’t said a single word about him since his funeral” she pressed. “If he was your friend, you should talk about him. It’s important to let these feeling out when you can. And I’m not saying it has to be now or with me, but he’s only truly gone if you let him disappear. I thought for the longest time he was your older brother.”

“He was” Ohacha croaked, cursing the falter in his voice. He cleared his throat before continuing, “My cousin Belvaas and Ander were like my older brothers growing up. I didn’t have any actual siblings. But they were both my elders. They picked on me a lot, but I miss… they way things used to be.”

“I know” she said, sullenly. “And your mother and father, I’m sure.”

“Not him. I curse my father!” Ohacha said with bitterness. He spit over the railing. Rolena reeled, shocked by his outburst. She turned to face him, only to see his back turned to her as he leaned over the railing. “He cared more about his throne than me.”

“How can you say that?” Rolena asked with concern. Rolena had always known Ohacha as her employer. He was a wealthy prince who commanded soldiers and powerful men. But for the first time, she grasped just how young he truly was, and how much of his youthful innocence had been lost over the years.

“He left me behind.”

Rolena thought about telling him that wasn’t true, but she didn’t know. Instead, she said, “And I bet his last thought was regret over that choice.” Ohacha not-so-subtly wiped tears from his eyes and turned to face her. “What actually happened to your family, Ohacha?”

“What do you mean?” Ohacha asked, not understanding.

“How did you end up in Ayagiim? How did you lose your home?” she asked.

“Well,” Ohacha said through red eyes, thinking back, “my uncle Belvaas met with the Careyago generals shortly after the fall of Ayaan. He betrayed his family and his kingdom to the Careyago Emperor. He betrayed his family to lift himself up. Then, one night, he tried to kill us all. But my uncle Aramuk found out his plan and we fled to my mother’s home in Ayagiim. She was a princess there, before marrying my father. My grandmother took us in. You know the rest.”

“Your father collected his forces to mount a counter-attack.”

“But he was too late” Ohacha added. “The Careyago army had already arrived in Gaag. My father’s forces were crushed between the imperial army holding his own fortifications and the imperial navy covering his escape. They were butchered on the beaches.”

“But how did Aramuk discover your other uncle’s treachery?” Rolena asked.

“The way my uncle tells it, luck.” Ohacha answered. “The night of the coup, our family was already planning on leaving the next morning for Ayagiim to visit my mother’s family. When the fighting broke out inside the castle, Cask collected me and Gaba’ké protected my parents and uncle long enough for us to escape the castle. We already had a ship ready.”

“The Careyago didn’t send assassins?” she asked, trying to gleam more information.

“I guess my uncle planned on doing the deed himself” Ohacha answered with a grimace and Rolena matched his frown.

“After being cooped up so long in Onera, it must be nice to finally see some new scenery.” Rolena said, changing the subject. “They say Caso is the city of gold. I know it can’t possibly be literal, but I’ve always imagined it as if the whole city were made of solid gold.”

Ohacha didn’t answer right away. After a pause he said, “Uncle Aramuk visited back when he was about my age. He told me that Caso has the largest port in the world. That it sees traders from all across the independent isles and the from the larger continents to the east and west. I think if the city were made of gold, he would have mentioned it rather than telling me about the weather.”

Rolena laughed and looked over at him with a smile. He hadn’t noticed, but the light of the day had already begun to fade. “It was nice talking with you, Ohacha. It was pleasant to just speak with you, person to person. I’ll be heading in for the night but if you need anyone shot, or anyone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

Ohacha smiled but made no response. It wasn’t until after she left that he realized she hadn’t referred to him by his title of prince and felt a mix of conflicting emotions about it. He landed on displeased and turned to watch the last of the sunset wink out over the horizon with a frown. Darkness set on fast and the contrast between the light glowing from the ship’s lanterns and the deep all-encompassing darkness of a moonless night provided Ohacha with a funny claustrophobic feeling. It felt as if the night sky wished to wrap him so tight in its dark embrace as to crush him. Displeased, and now unsettled, he stocked back towards his uncomfortable hammock to sleep away the night. Tomorrow would be a new day.

At dawn, the isle of gold emerged, its mountain peak blazing like a fiery beacon as the sun crested the horizon. The harsh, golden light forced Ohacha and Gaba’ké to shield their eyes at the bow of the Sweet Wind. Half the island was bathed in a brilliant glow, while the other half remained cloaked in the long shadow of the mountain that pierced the sky.

“The island of Caso is ancient and domineering.” Gaba’ké said, not looking at Ohacha. “I have heard that an ancient spirit dwells within the mountain that breathes fire and smoke.” He said, gesturing to the largest of the peaks ahead. “There are also stories that say the great spirits of the skies land at the mountain’s peak. There is a local belief that when one of the great spirits of the sky leaves the mountain peak, you can hear a thunderclap from their wings from across the island.” Ohacha didn’t respond to the old Aginjigaade. As per usual, the old sorcerer felt inclined to share his immense collection of wisdom that felt anything but useful.

Soon, a smaller chain of islands rose from the sea and the piercing columns and the cliffs of rock from the main island were replaced with smaller and smaller crests. As the land leveled out, the first signs of human activity appeared. Small hamlets with huts and small homes on stilts came into view. Fishing canoes appeared near the shore. Ohacha watched as the movement of people caught his eye.

Gray gulls with black onyx beaks and icy blue feet shrieked high above the outrigger as they followed the Sweet Wind southwards along the island chain that sheltered the lower inlets and bays. Ohacha watched them approach the mast of the Sweet Wind with caution, only to pull away each time the vessel rocked with the crash of another wave. The ship passed a small rocky island covered in hundreds of large stocky creatures that sunbathed on the rocky surface and Ohacha found it hard not to revel in the excitement of these interesting unknown animals.

With one final wide break between two larger islands in the long chain, the city of gold, Caso, came into view for the first time. The city wrapped itself around the entirety of the inlet. The city was massive, twice the size of Onera, and sparkled in the early morning light. Ohacha’s eye was draw to three distinct points of interest as they approached. First, a fortress of stone sat atop a lonely mountain that overlooked the city. In the center of the city, two blue-tiled domed buildings pierced high above the city streets. The bay was packed with ships of varying sizes, shapes and styles. There were hundreds of outriggers, and larger ships with unique sail patterns and colours. Several over the largest ships Ohacha had ever seen, biremes and triremes capable of carrying hundreds, also moored casually amongst the rest. There were more ships in this one bay than Ohacha thought he might have seen in his entire life.

Rolena joined Ohacha and Gaba’ké at the bow of the ship and leaned on the railing. “I really hoped the city would be made of gold” she said with a false disappointment.

“You give the songs and stories too much merit” Gaba’ké said.

“Gold is the blood that runs through Casoya’s veins, not through its walls”

“Considerably less impressive” she jested. Ohacha smiled despite himself.

Gaba’ké didn’t take the hint and continued his sermon, “No I disagree” he said. “More gold changes hands in this city than anywhere else in the world. There are more auction houses in Caso then in all the Careyago Empire.” He finished.

“She’s trying to be funny” Ohacha said with a condescending tone.

“Ah yes,” Gaba’ké said, “of course she is.”

“What are the two large domed buildings in the city center?” Ohacha asked, knowing Gaba’ké would have an answer. He always did.

“The one to the north with the single domed roof is the Great Casoyan Auction House.” Gaba’ké said, gesturing with his hands. “The one in the center of the city is the old Royal Palace, built by the last dynasty of Casoyan Kings, but is now the seat of the new Casoyan government” he finished.

“New Casoyan Government?” Ohacha asked.

“New is the best equivalent word in Tralang” Gaba’ké said. “A better term would be Dzhali, or recent” he said, picking the word for recent from their native Gaagian tongue. “The Casoyan Kingdom fell around the time of your grandfather’s birth, Ohacha. The Casoyan Kingdom was then maintained by five guilds that supported commerce and prosperity in the city. Eventually, I suppose the guilds realized that they didn’t need the King anymore or something of the like and overthrew him to have the guild leaders rule as the new kings of Caso.”

“I’m amazed they didn’t end up infighting after the coup” Ohacha surmised. “It would have been easy for person to step into the old role as King and continue the cycle.”

“That’s what most people would do” Rolena agreed.

“There was a strong ideology built into the movement to overthrow the King” Aramuk said, walking up from behind. The other turned to stare. “People didn’t just dislike the old King of Caso, they despised him enough to sour the entire notion of kings in general. The revolution was built of replacing the King’s with the Patzaus, the leaders of each guild, who would rule as a group in the best interest of their separate parts.” Aramuk explained. “The Casoyan Kings are a warning to all who lead, no matter a Kingdom or a household, about the dangers of hoarding power and resources. You cannot take without giving some back and you can never lead alone.”

The entire city was nestled between the huge mountain of rock, of which the fortress sat atop and the long string of barrier islands that stretched north and protected the inner bays from the storms and the sea. The city itself was surrounded by walls, though Ohacha had a difficult time picking them out from the masses of city blocks. The waterfront was a long continuous array of stone quays and warehoused piers that reached into the bay like long fingers trying to grasp the ocean. Chaos ensued as the Sweet Wind slowly navigated her way towards one of the main ports, looking for an opening large enough to fit the little outrigger while avoiding tangle with other craft. It was obvious from the outset that there would be no space for the larger fleet of ships here. That was a problem to solve later. As they drew closer to the port, Gaba’ké leaned over to Aramuk. Ohacha saw the movement from the corner of his eye and listened as best he could to the conversation,

“Do you two remember how many Aginjigaade I could feel when we first arrived in Onera?” Gaba’ké said.

“No” Aramuk answered. “Remind me.”

“Back in Onera, I… quested with my agindan and could feel the presence of maybe forty or fifty Aginjigaade in all of Onera. There have to be close to two hundred in this city” Gaba’ké said, excitedly. “I haven’t felt this many presences since I trained at the Aginjigaade school in Ayaan.”

“Do you sense any threats?” Aramuk asked, with delicate concern.

“No” Gaba’ké answered, “But I have been noticed. Consciousnesses fills the air here” Gaba’ké continued. “To me, it feels like I am in a very crowded room of, and each person’s agindan pushes and fills the spaces it can to settle comfortably into the city. They’re spread all across the city. I can sense them on the ships in the bay, some at the fortress, others in taverns, temples, warehouses, inns, private homes.”

“What does that mean?” Ohacha asked, looking over his shoulder

“It doesn’t mean that the Casoyans control two hundred Aginjigaade” Aramuk answered. “Many of them are likely in the same position as us. Visitors with an Aginjigaade in the party or on payroll for protection.”

“A lot of Aginjigaade make good coin as bodyguards.” Rolena said. “You can charge a premium for services you’ll never really have to use. I knew a fellow mercenary who used to pretend to be one to charge more for his services.”

“Did he ever get caught?” Gaba’ké asked.

“Of course, he did” Rolena answered. “He was a total moron.”

Ohacha thought about what Gaba’ké said, but couldn’t wrap his mind around it. There were two hundred or so Aginjigaade in Caso. Back in Gaag, there had only been nine; the three Royal Aginjigaade, Joulla, Tozhoo, and Gaba’ké, and their apprentice Vola, all of them trained at the school in Ayaan. He remembered those four as they lived inside the castle. There was the stonemason named Sturdy. There was the old drunk hermit who burned his house down, whom Ohacha only knew of because of that exact story told around the palace. Then there were two children born with the gift and the crazy woman who smelled the storms coming. Ohacha had presumed her insane until Gaba’ké has confirmed that she did indeed have the gift. Wait, Ohacha reconsidered, the old man has an odd sense of humour. Was he joking about that?

The Sweet Wind furled her sails and oarsmen took control, maneuvering the small craft forward as the captain gracefully navigated the little ship through the crowded harbour. Ohacha and Aramuk went below deck, despite Ohacha’s protests, to ensure the docks were safe upon arrival. The ship found a place to dock and the men aboard expertly brought the boat in safely without much fuss. A wharfinger appeared and inspected the ship quickly, then collected wharfage. The men aboard begun to unload the food, equipment, and personal affects as a messenger carrying a hand-written notice on parchment stamped with the Royal Krimas family seal made their way towards their potential patron’s estate. Aramuk was pulling at a very old connection to try and make this work. If it didn’t, they would have to find less optimal accommodations in the interim.

“Back when I was just a small boy,” Aramuk explained, “My father took me and your uncles to visit Caso as dignitaries of Gaag. I think he hoped that by coming personally, and with our family, he would show that Gaag was open to doing business with the Casoyan Patzau. It took a long time for the people of Caso to become comfortable trading with Kingdoms, as a former Kingdom itself. I think they held the notion that all kings were as terrible as the last Casoyan dynasty of kings had been. All that said, we stayed with one of the most powerful noble families in Caso, the Yohati’s, whose patriarch had been one of the five original Patzau’s that had rebelled against the King.”

“And you believe this Burrenal Yohati still lives in Caso and will remember you from his youth?” Gaba’ké asked, doubtful.

“I believe its worth a try.” Aramuk had said.

And so, they waited for the messenger to return with a reply from the Yohati family. To Ohacha’s complete and total surprise, the runner returned quickly and indicated they were welcome. With their destination clear, Rolena and the soldiers led the way as Aramuk, Ohacha, and Gaba’ké marched up the docks and onto land for the first time since they had left Onera.

They had come ashore in the most densely packed area of docks, just south of the northern canal and the warehouses on the pier that lined its edges. Ahead in the distance, they could see one of the two large buildings that towered over the city blocks; the Great Careyago Auction House. The streets themselves were cobbled with dark stones that had worn gray. They were wider than in Onera, allowing for a dozen people to walk shoulder to shoulder, and twice for the streets that bordered the waterfront. Matching Ohacha expectations, the streets were immaculately clean and people walked the streets in fine clothes, locals carrying small wooden parasols to hide them from the late morning heat. There were dozens of people out on the streets and vendors in doorways shouted at passersby in both Casoyan and Tralang selling dishes of food including skewers of meat, buns, breads, and bowls of soup spooned from gigantic pots that bubbled with savoury invitations.

Ohacha’s group walked away from the waterfront, passing local soldiers who were relaxed and enjoying drinks and a card game in a nearby restaurant. Ohacha expected them to glance over, but they paid his group no mind. For the first time in years, the tension that had defined their lives began to ease. They were still cautious, of course, but the constant, vigilant edge they had lived with for three years felt lessened. This change was most evident as Gaba’ké leaned in to speak with him. It was a simple, casual gesture he would never make when on-edge.

“Do you see those men ahead of us” he said, point a finger subtly ahead and to the left. “The ones wearing the red robes, surrounded by those guards.”

“Yes, I see them” Ohacha said, spotting the three men.

“Those men are from Tulin” Gaba’ké said. “Do you remember your geography?”

“No” Ohacha admitted. Local geography, sure. But distant geography is worth less than stories.

“Tulin is the capital city of the O’kwiré Empire.” Gaba’ké said with a wide smile. “How about now?” Does that spring your memory?

“You mean the Empire on the far side across the sea?” Ohacha said, mystified.

“That’s the one” Gaba’ké said. “They’re O’Kwiran emissaries. The robes give it away. Well, that and their very foreign features” he added. “The furthest east I’ve ever been is Great Turtle City, and that trip took almost a month at sea. Add another month or two and you’d make it to Tulin in the Sweet Wind. They’ve come a very long way to be here.”

Ohacha could only stare as they passed the men by. The emissaries wore long red robes and unusual hats that covered their heads. They spoke with sounds so foreign to Ohacha, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend their conversation. One of the three emissaries turned and locked eyes with the young prince. The man had warm features and a short face with a beard the colour of sand. Instead of dark pupils, the man’s eyes were a vibrant yellowy orange colour that reminded Ohacha of the sun. Their gazes separated and Ohacha passed by, forgetting the strange men for the new oddities appearing on each corner.

Dark quarried stones made fine blocky foundations for all of the buildings they passed by. The streets, though narrow in some of the branching passages, were wide enough for carts and palanquins to pass through side by side as demonstrated as a large ornate palanquin appears further up the road. Even from fifty paces, vibrant golds, greens, and reds reflected off the palanquin to the point where the eye had no choice but to look in that direction.

Gaba’ké halted the group as it approached changed posture. “Aginjigaade” he grumbled, bring the group to a halt and moving to the side of the street to let the vibrant palanquin and the dozen men carrying it pass. Unexpectedly, the men halted right in front of the Gaagians. Rolena reached down for her short sword on her hip and the two soldiers followed suit, placing their hands on their own pommels, ready to draw steel with cautious uncertainty. Another servant appeared and unfolded legs from a hidden location under the Palanquin as well as a set of steps that descended from under the doorway. The twelve burly men carrying the great wooden beast set it down gently. Aramuk turned and waved to ease the soldiers’ tension.

The door swung upon and a large hand adorned in numerous rings reached out to clasp the edge of the Palanquin. A large stocky man stepped through the portal and squinted at the bright sunlight, raising a thick ring covered hand to shield his eyes and take stock of the crowd before him. He straightened on the steps to stand to his full height, when combined with his higher position on the steps, made the large man look like a true giant. He wore a clean and expensive looking black and red pearl-buttoned coat adorned with golden silk embroidery that sat atop a long-pleated skirt that hung to the man’s ankles. The skirt shared the same black and red colours as the coat. The man stepped down onto the cobbled street and a small woman appeared behind him adorned in a clean white robe that covered her body head to toe. The robe had a high collar that hugged high around her neck and her dark hair was braided back into a bun behind her head. She had large dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a round nose. The Aginjigaade.

“Greetings, envoys of old Gaag” the man said merrily.

“Greetings” Aramuk replied to the portly man, wary.

“Patzau Yohati?” Ohacha asked.
The man let out a booming laugh and beamed with a toothy smile.

“No, my boy” he said and Ohacha frowned at being called ‘boy.’ The man continued, either not noticing or not caring, “I am not Patzau Yohati. My name is Mellen Minoc, Patzau Minoc if you will.” He spoke as the woman finally took her place beside him. Ohacha realized that she wasn’t actually that small. Patzau Minoc, who stood beside her, just happened to be so large as to make her look miniscule. “Welcome to the great city of Caso!” he finished. It was theatrical, Ohacha had to admit.

“It is a pleasure to receive your welcome, Patzau Minoc” Aramuk said, “although I must ask how you knew who we were and how to find us.”

“Ah yes,” Patzau Minoc said. “You have a great many enemies. You must fear they would do as I have done but you needn’t worry, I have good friends in Onera such as our mutual friend Anup. After all, it is my business to know of worldly events outside of this city and the impacts they may have on… business.”

“And how it was you knew to find us?” Gaba’ké pressed. “Not even Patzau Yohati was aware we were coming to see him.”

“Yes, that…” Patzau Minoc said, gesturing to Gaba’ké the Aginjigaade, “is because of you” he smiled. The rings on his fingers glimmered in the gesture. “I’m sure you sensed Kuta here just as she could sense you. It’s not everyday a new Aginjigaade sails into the city.” He gestured to the young woman in white beside him and she gave a polite acknowledgement.

“Well, it is very gracious of you, Patzau Minoc and Aginjigaade Kuta, to grace us with your welcome. You treat us well above our stature these days.” Aramuk said.

Patzau Minoc gave a less-than coy chuckle and brought his left hand up to cover his mouth. “Perhaps, but I have my suspicions as to why you’ve come to Casoya, and… though you may not sit on the throne of Gaag today, it is always wise to treat guests with dignity and respect, especially when they come to do business.”

“That is most courteous.” Aramuk said.

“Besides,” Patzau Minoc continued, “it is plain to those who keep informed that you one day wish to retake your ancestral throne. Perhaps, one day it will come to pass. It is better for business to make friends than enemies.”

“I will never rule Gaag” Aramuk said, looking to Ohacha.

“Oh!” Patzau Minoc said with surprised enthusiasm, “It is the boy then, who will rule if you succeed.”

Anger flared in Ohacha’s eyes at the remark, “I am no boy” he snapped.

“Feisty!” Patzau Minoc announced with a chuckle. “I meant you no offence, boy” he said, punctuating the word. “I understand how you may feel, but to fathers and old men alike, younger men will always be boys until the day we die and very rarely before then.”

Aramuk outwardly smiled at the comment, though he didn’t inwardly agree. This boy has seen more wicked deeds than most men will see across their whole lives. He thought to say so to the Patzau, but changed his mind. Ohacha pursed his lips and did his best to say nothing more, lest he make their time in the city difficult by adding to their long list of enemies.

The Patzau clasped his hands together with the loud metallic clink of rings on rings. “Well then” he said. “Should you have any issues while in the city, come to the Artisan’s Guild and ask for myself or Kuta. If we’re not around, leave a message with an attendant or my wife Mira and we will work something out. I take it, you will be staying with Patzau Yohati?” Patzau Minoc asked.

“That is yet to be determined” Aramuk answered.

“If it doesn’t work out, let me know and I can provide a host of alternatives that would suit your needs. Inns, private estates of friends, the like” he added. “I am also the foremost expert on quality goods and equipment in the city. The armourers and weaponsmiths in Caso are unparallelled.” He smiled. “Bronze casting is our specialty. None in the world are our equals.”

“That would be most appreciated, Patzau Minoc.” Aramuk said. “We will make a point of reaching out for just such recommendations.”

“Excellent” the large man said. “Give Patzau Yohati my best and don’t leave the city walls” Patzau Minoc said, and turned to take the steps back up into his palanquin. The girl gave an embarrassed smile and turned to follow Patzau Minoc into the wooden vehicle. Ohacha watched as the servants returned to their positions and hoisted the palanquin up and marched off past them towards the waterfront.
Gaba’ké eased and sighed audibly. “I didn’t like that at all” he said.

“Nor do I” Aramuk agreed. “He must be friendly with Lord Anup. Nobody else knows we were coming here.”

“Not only that” Gaba’ké added, “but nobody who knew could have gotten that information here faster than we got here ourselves. This set of events deeply troubles me. He must be bluffing. It seems impossible that he could predict our being here.”

“That would make sense.” Ohacha said.

“Its still incredibly unlikely” Aramuk said, “and that makes me uneasy. Let’s go” he continued, “we’re causing a scene.”

Ohacha looked around and it was true. Several locals stared at them with new found interest. Ohacha caught the eye of a pair of girls watching from a storefront and he smiled. They turned away franticly, returning to whatever work or shopping they were doing. Ohacha’s smile faltered.

The group continued deeper into the city led by the messenger. The tight streets opened into a grand plaza at the foot of the Great Casoyan Auction House. Up close, the building was magnificent in its size and scale. From afar, the building loomed tall over the skyline but up close, the footprint of the thick quarried stone walls amounted to a structure larger than the castle in Gaag. The main bulk of the building loomed taller than even the surrounding city blocks. The great blue-tiled dome on the top pierced upwards out of sight, easily doubling the structures height. Opposite the grand stone building, stalls of merchants crowded together in orderly rows, tempting buyers with unique and expensive wares. The group passed with eyes fixed upwards, marveling at the sparking dome of glazed tiles.

Rolena appeared at Ohacha’s side unexpectedly. Her hand shot outwards towards him and Ohacha flinched at the unexpected movement. Her hand caught the outstretched hand of an innocent looking child. The boy, perhaps ten, looked mortified as Rolena held his wrist tight a fingers breadth from Ohacha’s sword. At the same moment, as Ohacha flinched, he knocked her hand, loosening her grip. The young child didn’t hesitate, using the confusion to escape from Rolena’s grasp. Gaba’ké and Aramuk turned at the sudden commotion as the boy picked himself up in a flash of motion, vanishing into the market crowd.

“Pickpocket” Rolena said, eying Ohacha. He seemed rattled by the unexpected commotion. He’s used to more deadly attackers, Rolena surmised. She watched the boy disappear into the crowd, knowing she would never catch him.

Moving past the Auction House and its towering dome and long ornamental wings, the group moved southwards towards the central canal. Along the banks, bowed willows arched outwards away from the houses and shops that lined the wide canal walls. They shielded the people and boats below from the mid-day heat. Merchants selling the day’s catch, fish, crabs, and clams, bellowed prices at passersby. Boats followed along heading inland, steered by sun-kissed men with oars on the way towards the brackish lake just outside the city.

They reached the end of the street where it curved away from the canal. Their destination, a large, walled estate, hugged the canal’s edge. Dense, broad-leafed trees with long trailing creepers loomed over the high stone walls, shading the street. Arriving at the gatehouse, a guard emerged to give them a silent, scrutinizing once-over. Iron studded timber doors standing taller than two men blocked views into the estate. The gate groaned open on loud hinges, forcing them to take a step back. Standing on the other side stood an older couple and a retinue of personal guards larger than their own host.

The older man stepped forward through the opening and smiled a strange smile. He was shorter than Ohacha expected, and looked well over sixty years. He had tanned skin that could no longer hide the leathery wrinkles of age around his face and neck. Thin an unassuming, he had white salt-and-pepper hair beneath a flat brimless black hat ornamented with a single golden band. Thick black eyebrows famed his dark inset eyes and a square chin outlined his well manicured goatee and moustache. He wore clothes similar to Patzau Minoc’s, a finely woven undershirt coloured a seafoam greenish blue with a dark red overcoat with white embroidered accents above dark loose-fitting pants.

“Welcome” he said, passing his gaze across the group to land on Aramuk in particular. “Aramuk Krimas” he said, “it has been many, many years.”

“It has” Aramuk said. “It is a pleasure to see you again after all this time, Burrenal.”

“Please” Yohati said. “It is Patzau Yohati now. You can use my name inside the house, but I’d like to keep the formalities in public settings.”

“Patzau?” Aramuk repeated. “Congratulations on your appointment to the council.”

“Oh, please” Yohati said dismissively, “I’ve been a member of the council for twenty-five years. You’re quickly demonstrating how little the Krimases cared to keep up contact with us here in Caso.” Ohacha recoiled, not expecting the challenge.

“You are right, Patzau Yohati.” Aramuk said graciously. “Gaag has seen its own changes. Please excuse me if I have caused any offence. We’ve had our hands full with our own… problems these last few years.”

“I’ve heard” the old Patzau said. “You’ve gone and lost yourself a kingdom.”

“I would say that my brother lost himself a kingdom” Aramuk countered. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

“A technicality” Patzau Yohati responded. “The weakest way to be correct. What happened? Couldn’t hold out against the Careyago armies? I heard you barely put up a fight.”

“The Careyago navy proved its effectiveness. Can Caso hold against such a force?” Aramuk countered. The older man frowned at the comment. “Let’s not stand here and pretend you don’t already know what happened” Aramuk said. “If you want some specific details, we can discuss them over dinner and a bottle sometime. We’ve brought you some of the finest Oneran cases.”

“You think a gift of wine will get you through my door?” Patzau Yohati said sternly.

Before Aramuk had the chance to answer, the woman behind him stepped forward. She was handsome, both despite and in spite of her age. She held an air of confidence and expertise that only came from long years of experience. She reminded Ohacha of his mother, if only in this similarity. Unlike his mother, she had dark wavy hair than rested just below her collarbone and a diamond shape face that still managed to remind you that, although she might not still be as young as she once was, she was still every bit as beautiful. There was a grace to her. It permeated the way she existed; her face, her fine clothes, her jewellery. Coming to Patzau Yohati’s side, she rested a hand on his shoulder and he looked over at her while she looked past him at Aramuk.

“Now come, dear” she said placatingly. Her voice was soft and inviting. “Many years may have passed, but these men have come a long way to see you. And you know just as well as I do the circumstances of their arrival. Why cause them distress at the door. You can debate politics over food and wine as promised.”

He gave her a long look that Ohacha couldn’t decipher. “Bah,” he scoffed. “You’ll be the death of me, Reah.” His words sounded angry, but the placated smile on his face suggested otherwise. He looked to one of the soldiers in his retinue and called a name. A soldier came forward at the call. “See our guests to the small guest house.” Turning back to Aramuk, he continued, “You can stay until the end of the season at the very least. We can discuss details and timelines later. I’ll be heading out to an important meeting, but my staff will get you settled.”

“Thank you for your kindness” Aramuk said.

Yohati waved him silent, “But” he punctuated the word, “I know well of your history in Onera. Unlike your previous host, I plan on living in my house full time. The first time some cutthroat hops my walls and enters my house to take your lives, that’ll be it. I’ll not have my wife and daughter put in danger for your sakes.”

“Understood.” Aramuk agreed. Ohacha wanted to argue but wasn’t sure when the appropriate time would be or if there ever would be one. We’re not inviting them in…

“And, I want a detailed recount of your soldiers, weapons, and that Aginjigaade’s abilities” Yohati said, gesturing at Gaba’ké in his robes. “Moreover, I won’t go through the effort of burying you if you get yourselves killed here. In fact, I’ll make you damn pay for it.” With that, the old Patzau and his wife Reah marched outside the walls with his soldiers at his heels.

They were led into the grounds. Ornamented flagstones replaced the cobbled streets beyond the gateway. Ahead, in the gaps between the trees, the grandeur of the main estate mimicked the impressive architecture of the Auction House. It was built of the same dark quarried stone and stood tall above the gardens and trees, like the auction house but without the dome. Ancient looking trees stood above gardens of ferns, flowers and broad-leafed plants. Speckles of bright sunlight danced across the ground as the gentle breeze rustled the canopy above. Small nature spirits danced amongst the gardens and clung to the mosses and leaves.

Instead of following the central road to the main estate, they were led them down a smaller side path. As they came upon the structure hidden in the garden, it became evident that the small guest house was certainly for guests, but certainly not small. Framed by the same ancient trees and their soft weeping mosses, the house was nearly three stories tall and had a terrace that overlooked the canal. Behind, shrubs and walls encircled its own private garden spaces. Its grandeur matched many of the wealthier stone homes and mansions that littered the crooked streets they had passed along the way.
The attendant opened the guest house for them and the group filed in, ready to settle down again after the long journey. Finding a bedroom he liked, Ohacha collapsed on the hard bed and gazed out through the window. Above the canopy of Patzau Yohati’s private gardens, Ohacha stared at the lonely mountain peak that stretched so high as to disappear into haze.

Tired from the journey, Ohacha leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes. He dreamed awake of Gaag. Of home. But the Gaag he dreamed of looked strange in his mind, altered. Its features were less defined than he remembered. He thought of his bedroom in the royal castle but could only remember his bedroom in Onera. Once he realized the mistake, he tried again but could only picture his bedroom in Ayagiim. The further I stray from home, the less I can recall. Gaag felt further now that it ever had. Like they were constantly moving, but somehow travelling in the wrong direction. It feels like the spirits not only want to keep me from my home physically, but also in my dreams. Still, Ohacha was able to recall the long hallway where his grandfathers ornate throne sat. The throne where his father has sat for only a few days. The throne he one day vowed to sit upon. That thought gave him comfort. Hope to feed the dream. Hope to smother the loss.

Stepping back into the palanquin, Patzau Mellen Minoc sighed in relief at the respite from the heat. He grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed his brows, careful not to smudge his powders. Kuta watched silently as he found his usual comfortable spot and settled in for the ride. His meeting with the princes had gone well. They were an interesting group. Perhaps, useful pawns. That was yet to be seen. That they were here to see Yohati was all the more interesting. Mellen prided himself on his knowledge of people and things and for once, he had been surprised to learn something unexpected. There is some kind of history with Yohati, he pondered to himself, and learning of this connection can do nothing but help paint a wider picture of how to proceed. After all, foreigners in their ignorance have just as much use as pawns as politicians and guild bureaucrats do.

The servants lifted the palanquin and the group was off towards the southern port. Mellen lifted the veil that covered the windows of his travelling box to peer out at the blocks of buildings. Kuta remained quiet, waiting for him to be ready to speak rather than pushing the subject. Ever the patient one, Mellen thought. The palanquin and the soldiers crossed over the Grand Canal that bisected the city. Mellen saw riverboats maneuvering their way through as peddlers sold trinkets, food, and clothes out of their small vessels. I wonder how Yohati’s guild taxes those boats, Mellen thought to himself. The caravan turned a corner and the new angle made viewing out of the palanquin uncomfortable. Mellen closed the curtain and looked over to Kuta, who remained silent.

“What do you think about them, the princes?” Mellen asked.

“The Gaagian princes?” Kuta repeated. “There is little I can say.”

“Well, what can you say?” Mellen asked.

“Their Aginjigaade…” Kuta said. “He seems special”

“Special?” Mellen asked, surprised by her answer. More information to be gleamed, he thought to himself. “How so?” Mellen asked.

Kuta took a few extra moments to find the right words to answer. Then she said, “He hides it very well, but I believe strongly that he has at least two spiritual affinities. Perhaps a third. This would make him an oddity among our kind and certainly a person of interest in the city.”

“What does it mean to have two affinities?” Mellen asked. “Like two skills? Or two spirits he can draw power from?

“Well, both” Kuta said. “Following the Ayaani system, most Aginjigaade have an affinity in one of the many spiritual groupings, and usually a single or perhaps a fortunate Aginjigaade might have two branches of that group” Kuta explained.

“I’ve never fully understood your Aginjigaade jargon” Mellen complained. “In simpler terms. Spare me the history lesson.” I can read the histories later.

“I have an affinity towards the spirits of metals. My affinity classification would be within mineral spirits, and my branch of mineral spirits include spirits that like metals. In rare cases, an Aginjigaade might have an affinity to more than one branch in their classification. This would be like me having a metal spirit branch and, as an example, also having a minerals spirit branch or a crystal creatures branch. Having a second branch isn’t too uncommon. Even rarer would be an Aginjigaade possessing a third branch. Very few Aginjigaade living have this fortune. Unfortunately, I unable to learn how many branches an Aginjigaade has access to, the same way you cannot know how many languages a person speaks without asking. But I didn’t say that he has two branches, I said I believe he has two affinities.”

“Meaning?” Mellen asked, a little confused.

“I suspect he has at least one branch in earthen spirits and another branch in another spirit classification, although I couldn’t sense which” Kuta answered. “The earthen spirits were easy to detect for me; they are attracted to stone trinkets he carries on his person. However, there are other spirits that hang around close to him that are not earthen in nature. The spirits he leads are very weak, almost wisps amongst the many spirits that roam the streets. Had I not already been interested in the earthen spirits he has collected; I would never have noticed the other spirits that trail behind him.”

Mellen pondered that for a moment before asking, “Is he powerful? Can we use him?”

“That is unclear. My master used to say that old Aginjigaade are either cowards, or strong.” Kuta said. “The reckless and the weak are often killed and consumed by the very spirits they hope to control. Many die very young. Lesser Aginjigaade fear spirits. They fear the gift. I would like to meet him again, if it could be arranged.”

“If it can be done, I will arrange it.” Mellen said. “It may be difficult to organize a meeting without tipping off our interest in him to the other members of the council. Especially with these princes living in Yohati’s estate. We will have to chance an interaction when they are about in the city. Will Yohati be able to learn what you just learned?”

“It is not impossible, if his Aginjigaade are present and they share an affinity or branch…” Kuta answered, “then perhaps. One has to know where to look. I am not very familiar with Yohati’s Aginjigaade. Is he the one with the air affinity? Or is that someone else?”

“He’s the illusionist” Mellen said.

“Then it might be hard for him to notice,” Kuta said, “like asking a painter to play music.”

“Hmm” Mellen pondered. “I will see to it that we have an informant watch the princes, specifically. I believe we have someone in Yohati’s serving staff. The Aginjigaade travels with them. Framing our interest in the princes, rather than the Aginjigaade, should keep our intentions hidden.”

“I agree” Kuta said. “I also suggest we send messages to the lords of Onera, especially Anup, asking if they are able to share any information about him. Perhaps there is more to be learned from where they have come that might suggest what it is they want and what they are capable of.”

Mellen smiled.