Cask’s return from Onera came with a plethora of ill omens and complications. A wave of desertion delayed departure from Onera. As feared, many of Lord Provis’ soldiers abandoned the campaign following their lord’s death. Then, at sea, one of the fourteen ships disappeared from the armada. Several accounts from sailor’s spoke of a sea-spirit sighting right before the ship’s disappearance. Each man and woman gave the same description, despite hailing from different vessels: An enormous dark body breaching the waves with a reef of spines down its back. Morale was low before departure. Now, there was little left. All the way to Casoya, dark clouds followed the convoy of ships and that darkness remained as the fleet sailed into the bay of Caso. Prince Aramuk Krimas had spent the entire week negotiating with anyone he could reach to secure safe and affordable docking for the armada. Each time, he was met instead with astronomical sums. Docking fees and taxes on cargo, personnel, soldiers, it all amounted to a bankrupting quantity of money. And so, after all the time and effort spent sailing to Casoya, the fleet was forced to continue onward elsewhere.
As the fleet sailed back through the straight into the wider sea, the dark storm clouds brought hard ceaseless rains. It was the type of storm that entices regular people to shelter and fools to brave. Ohacha’s eager hope to once again return to weapons-practice with Cask remained just that. By the end of the first day of rain, the ground was soft and sodden. By the second day, lakes pooled above the flagstone paths and garden beds. By the third day, any step outside the guesthouse would require sloshing through water higher than a shin. Only the hard work by Yohati’s staff kept much of the gardens above water and water flowing steadily like a river into the canal. Three days of tireless rain. When sunlight reappeared at the end of the long storm, with it came relief at the reprieve.
The leaves of the large trees that loomed wide over the manicured gardens dropped fat droplets on unsuspecting targets below. The endless buffeting patter of rain was replaced with birdsong. And for the first time in days, sunlight basked over the city of Caso. Water flooded much of the city. It was a storm for the histories. But to Ohacha, it had simply been an inconvenience. Those vines and creepers that had survived the tireless rains and wind clung onto the last droplets of water as if they were the last. The droplets refracted the warm sunlight. To Ohacha, it was beautiful. Beautiful only because Yohati’s oasis estate within the heart of the city had been spared the worst of the storm. Here, separated from the rest of Caso, they had been out of danger from the widespread flooding and mudslides seen elsewhere. Inconvenience, their only qualm
Ohacha had spent the last two days cooped up inside the guesthouse, finding all possible excuses to avoid his uncle Aramuk. It wasn’t that Ohacha didn’t like his uncle. He did. It was that Aramuk was a man who saw any time not spent learning, training, or improving as a waste. In his meticulous mind, there was no such thing as spare time. And Ohacha’s problem was that this philosophy was often forced upon him as well. While Aramuk could spend days reading dusty texts and strategizing for improbable scenarios, Ohacha simply couldn’t. And, with explicitly swordplay forbidden inside the guesthouse, the approved ways to pass the time did little to relieve his boredom. So, as expected, Ohacha spent every opportunity avoiding his uncle, opting to gamble with Rolena or practice knife fighting with Cask instead. The few chances Aramuk managed to distract himself from his planning long enough to fret over Ohacha, the game of hide and seek began anew and Ohacha would ultimately find himself hunched over a book learning histories with Gaba’ké or politics with his uncle. At each lesson’s conclusion, Ohacha would use a meal or a walk as an excuse to flee and the whole cycle would begin again.
This all ended on the second day. While practicing swordplay against Aramuk’s orders, Ohacha and Cask managed to break a metal illum stone lamp hanging from the wall. Cask had parried Ohacha’s thrust, but the practice blade ricocheted and struck the fixture, sending it crashing to the floor. Aramuk and the other soldiers burst into the room expecting an assassin, only to find two idiots with sticks. The game of avoidance was over; Ohacha’s freedom was officially gone.
From that point forward. Ohacha wasn’t let out of his uncle’s sight. Even Rolena was roped into keeping Ohacha occupied. It didn’t help that most of the times he had been caught, it was because Aramuk had found the two together playing dice. Her punishment for being involved was to teach Ohacha how to assemble, clean, and disassemble her crossbow as Aramuk watched from the sidelines interjecting with questions that were far too specifically rooted in military history and construction methods.
Despite being guests at Yohati’s estate, the old Patzau hadn’t spared any real attention towards looking into or after them. Cask and two other soldiers had been dispatched on a mission outside the walls into the city in the pouring rain to buy food. The three men came back drenched and carrying far less than expected. Meats were scarce, as were eggs. Instead, they carried heavy bags of rice, pearl millet, and sorghum for porridges. They also purchased several bags of familiar vegetables including peppers, onions, and okra, and some less familiar ones that Rolena said she recognized from Onera. Despite the exorbitant cost and the lack of variety, the change in diet was an improvement over the long journey south at sea.
The sun’s appearance after the storm subsided was a welcome relief. The change in weather meant Ohacha could finally see beyond his window and, more importantly, train outside with Cask and Rolena again. It also meant Aramuk would have a much harder time finding him for unscheduled lessons. Feeling light, Ohacha bounded down the stairs, passed Cask at a table, and collected his own bowl of stew from a large pot. He sat down and was met with a silent acknowledgment from Cask in the form of a brief nod.
“Where’s Aramuk?” Ohacha asked, dipping a spoon into his bowl. Cask responded with a shrug as he continued to spoon down his meal through tired eyes. “Gaba’ké?” Ohacha asked.
“In the garden. Behind” Cask answered, gesturing his spoon in the direction of the arched doorways that led out into the sunny patio. Much of the water that had covered the patio had receded overnight, leaving the gardens looking wet but no longer flooded. Rolena appeared from the direction Gaba’ké had pointed. She was in her ordinary clothes and sweat clung to her forehead. Her hair hung loose instead of its usual long braid. Under the glow of the sun, her hair had a fiery radiance.
“Good morning” she said as she strode through the doorway and into the room.
“Morning” Cask mumbled.
“Good morning,” Ohacha said, failing to keep his eyes from lingering. Her informal clothes revealed the muscles of her shoulders and arms. She was shorter than him, but she carried herself with confidence and strength that Ohacha envied. He was proud to have her protecting him, but her presence made him feel insecure. She had proved herself capable. She had saved Aramuk’s life. But he also knew that despite their differences in age and height, she could probably best him in most contests of strength. And yet it was only his experiences with her in the training yard that gave that notion. Cask, at least, had an overbearing competence and strength in everything he did that served as a clear warning to those looking to pick a fight. But any fool on the street, making the wrong presumptions about Rolena’s abilities, would learn that lesson the hard way. Ohacha had.
“It is swelteringly hot outside” Rolena said. “I didn’t think the difference would be so significant between Onera and Casoya. All I did was wash my armour and I’m soaked with sweat.”
“Lots of water in the air. Have you seen Aramuk?” Cask asked. “Ohacha was asking for him.”
“I saw him earlier this morning while he was cooking the stew” she said.
“Aramuk cooked the stew?” Ohacha blurted out.
Cask turned and pointed his spoon with the same daring challenge as he would his sword. “You have a habit of judging people, Ohacha. One day, whether its in a duel with a sword, a conversation with the wrong person, or a battle among armies, doing so will cost you. You must always remember that people are far more complex than you believe.”
“Aramuk has never cooked for us before today and I’ve lived with him all my life” Ohacha countered.
Cask ran his fingers over his scarred scalp, “Never rely on history alone to tell you what the future might bring. You leave yourself blind spots. I bet you also didn’t know that I can juggle or that Gaba’ké had a daughter.”
“Gaba’ké had a daughter?”
“Shit. Yes” Cask answered, covering his eyes. “And don’t you dare mention that I just told you that.”
“Why not?” Ohacha said.
“Because I wasn’t supposed to say that” Cask said.
“I can lick my nose” Rolena said into the quiet room. Ohacha and Cask turned and stared for a moment. Ohacha then tried and failed to lick his own nose, soliciting a hearty laugh from her as she left towards the stairs.
“Everyone,” Cask continued, “has some secret or some hidden skill…”
“Like licking one’s nose” Ohacha jested.
“Spirits, Ohacha…” Cask said with a sigh. “Everyone has something that they are good at. Everyone has something about them you don’t know. Everyone has a history that extends past the day you met them and will continue beyond the day you part ways. It is better to overestimate everyone, than underestimate them and be wrong.”
Rolena stood near the top of the stairs still listening. Wise words. Spoken like a man who has already leaned from unexpected surprises. She understood. Not wishing to linger, she continued her climb up to her bedroom to change clothes.
Ohacha finished his stew, dawned a pair of sandals, and stepped outside into the sun-baked patio to enjoy the good weather. Sunlight blanketed everything and humid air made the morning air feel sticky. Beyond the patio, pools of water still filled the gardens and much of the pathways remained covered in dark pools. Ohacha strode forward towards a section of the garden that was eclosed by tall shrubberies. Inside, a long eloquent stone table filled the space and, in the center, sat Gaba’ké, who was reclined in a chair with a tablet in his hand.
“Good morning” Gaba’ké said, not turning to face Ohacha.
“Good morning Gaba’ké.”
“It is a beautiful day and I understand how restless you have been. We’ll skip lessons today and instead spend some time together after the sun has set. How about that?”
“Thank you, Gaba’ké.”
“But–” Gaba’ké interjected. “I want you to be prepared. You uncle left you a book on Casoyan histories on loan from Patzau Yohati. If you haven’t already finished the first chapter, I expect you to come to today’s lesson with the chapter completed. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir” Ohacha said. “Have you seen Aramuk? I haven’t yet seen him.”
“He is meeting with Patzau Yohati” Gaba’ké said. “I expect he will return with more information regarding how long we can stay and what kind of arrangements are expected. More specifically, how much his protection will cost us.”
“He went to see Patzau Yohati without me?”
“He went alone. Yes”
“Should I not be there?” Ohacha asked, insulted.
“Yes” Gaba’ké said, finally looking up from his book. “You should be there. But instead, you spent most of the past two days dodging your uncle and staying up late gambling away your money with Rolena. You have done little to no preparation to negotiate at this time and your behaviour demonstrates that you have no interest in doing so. I’d consider you unfit to participate at this time.”
Ohacha reeled as if struck. The accusational tone, especially from Gaba’ké, was a blow he hadn’t anticipated. Shock surged into denial, and then anger. “This is unfair!” Ohacha protested. “I want to speak with my uncle.”
“He’s gone” Gaba’ké said with a dismissive gesture. “He met with Patzau Yohati over an early breakfast. Aramuk’s spryer than a water spirit. The two of them left already, together to speak with another Patzau from the council.”
“Which one?” Ohacha asked.
Gaba’ké looked up again, now irritated. “You are a smart young man, Ohacha. You’re being educated to rule a kingdom. Surely you can deduce the answer on your own. Instead of reacting, think for yourself. Come to your own reasonable conclusion as to which Patzau your uncle would want to meet.”
Ohacha almost rose to the baited challenge. Instead, he withdrew, wary of the old Aginjigaade’s aptitude for talking circles around him. At least, unlike his uncle, Gaba’ké never made him feel small or inconsequential. Ohacha skulked off, opting instead to let the rage brew inside him. Gaba’ké turned back to his tablet as Ohacha trudged briskly into the gardens, splashing in puddles with each step. With each step, Ohacha passed luscious ferns and broad-leafed plants flowering plants. He didn’t know where he was going. That was the point. He walked simply to get away for a while, not caring where he might end up. Not that he could leave. The large stone walls of the complex that towered at twice his height ensured he couldn’t go anywhere he wasn’t supposed to.
Soon he found himself exiting the small path onto the main walkway that stretched from the guardhouse on the left, and up to the main estate on the right. Unable to proceed left, and unwilling to turn right towards the big house, Ohacha crossed the main roadway following the continuation of the same narrow trail that led towards the other side of the complex. Here, the same tall ancient trees with their wide canopies and broad leaves opened onto a small clearing. Inside there was a pond sunken into the ground with dozens of large beautiful fish. A C-shaped pergola covered in pink roses surrounded pond to the right and a small gazebo on stilts sat atop the pond. Inside sat two women who stared back at Ohacha where he stood on the other side of the clearing. The two women sat in small metal chairs beside a small table with food and drinks perched between them. He recognised one as Reah Yohati.
Ohacha froze, unsure what to do. Was his presence an intrusion? Should he leave? He was about to turn to go to leave them to their privacy when one of the women, the one who wasn’t Reah, waved to beckon him forward to them. Ohacha hesitated again, unsure if he was being invited to join them or summoned to be scolded for his intrusion. He walked around the pond and under the flowery pergola, all the while aware of their gazes. He looked down at his clothes, informal, and his feet, exposed and regretted his choices. He walked up the two wooden steps that led to the platform over the pond at which the two women sat. They both wore fine sarong dresses with embroidered blouses over top that covered their shoulders. Reah held the same calm and confident poise she had shown during their first meeting. The other woman had a longer face with farer features. Unlike Reah, she appeared deeply curious at his arrival. Ohacha approached and stood a comfortable distance away, waiting for them to speak first.
“Well,” the unknown older woman said in a smooth and very feminine voice, “good morning handsome. And who might you be?” Ohacha looked over at Reah, unsure if he should speak for himself or whether she might introduce him on his behalf and found the same curious look on her face as the other woman’s.
“Good morning” Ohacha said, bowing. “Lady Reah” he said, acknowledging his host and then turning to the other woman he said, “I am Prince Ohacha Krimas of Gaag.”
“Oh my?” the woman said with surprise. She took a sip from her small cup, “a prince? Where ever did you find this boy?” the woman said, turning to ask Reah.
“Didn’t you hear?” Reah said, “Prince Ohacha and his uncle Prince Aramuk were dethroned by none other than Ohacha’s other uncle, Prince Aramuk’s younger brother.” The other woman let out a quick gasp. “Now the young prince here is travelling the world, seeking a way to reclaim his lost throne.”
Ohacha scowled at the interpretation. “My city was to be invaded by the Careyago and instead of protecting our way of life from imperialist expansion, my uncle Belvaas let the invaders into the palace to give himself control over the new imperial province.”
“I see” the younger woman said. “So, do you have an army? Are you planning to remove the invaders from your homeland?”
“One day” Ohacha said, “I will retake my ancestral throne and remove the Careyago from Gaag.”
“That’s very noble of you” Reah said. “But I must ask, Prince Ohacha, were you looking for me? Or have you just so happened to stumble upon us in the gardens.”
“I just so happened upon you” he said. “I apologize if I am interrupting your conversation.”
The other woman let out a quick giggle. “Interrupting?” she said. “Oh my! What a cute boy you are” Ohacha winced at the word but held his tongue. “Why, your very presence has added to the entertainment of our conversation. Wouldn’t you agree, Reah?” to which Reah nodded politely.
“I am sorry, but I do not yet know your name” Ohacha said.
“Oh! Of course,” the woman said. “I do apologize. I sometimes forget that foreigners perhaps aren’t familiar with the Casoyan families. I am Piitra Hadashenta. Patzau Hadashenta is my husband. He’s off with your uncle, I believe.”
“Patzau Hadashenta?” Ohacha repeated, “Of the Auction House?”
“Yes” Piitra answered with a smile, “That’s us.”
“Would you like to stay and chat with us, Ohacha?” Reah asked. “I can have someone bring you a chair and your own drink. Tea? Fruit juice? Wine?”
“No” Ohacha said, politely, “You honour me with your offer but I would be embarrassed to be seen as a trespasser in your time together.” I’m not sure I have the patience to play nice for an extended period of time.
“Nonsense” Reah said. “You are more than welcome to accompany us today. You can enjoy the gardens another day with better weather.” She whistled sharply and a servant appeared from just outside of their view, then left to return with a chair and a cup of wine.
“Now, Ohacha” Piitra said, you must tell us more about life in Gaag. We have many merchants from Ayaan and Hosagiin. And many traders from the east as well. These cities and their ways of life are well known to us. But Gaag was always a quiet reserved little kingdom. Tell us about it. You must miss it, right?”
“I do” Ohacha said, the anger in him subsiding. “Gaag is a smaller city than Ayaan, or Hosagiin, or Caso. Perhaps half the size but much older in its roots and history. The city is built on a high ridge surrounded by the sea to the east and by lowlands and wetlands to the west. The land is rich with clay. And–”
“I can read all of that in a book” Piitra cut in. She gave a look that suggested he relax and Ohacha tried. “Tell us about the things you remember that we couldn’t learn from a history.”
Ohacha tried again. He thought of the flat lowlands outside the city that could be seen from the ramparts of the royal castle. He thought of the homes below and their red and orange tiled rooftops. “My family’s castle overlooks the sea. In the evenings, the sun sets over the lands to the west and the lowland rivers and estuaries glow for miles. Birds we call Almingos flock in the hundreds to the river’s edge and spear for little crayfish and minnows. The air smells of smoky earth and cedar because of the brick and charcoal kilns. Every few weeks there’s a large market and farmers and traders and fishermen and all sorts of folks come from all around to sell and barter and trade. I remember being allowed to go once, with my mother, and we went from shop to shop together. We revere our ancestors and life spirits. Seeing one is considered great fortune for any Gaagian. It was… peaceful.”
Ohacha blinked, realizing that he stopped talking. He had gotten lost in his thoughts and let silence linger. It occurred to him that his memories of Gaag seemed less and less real over time. Less like memories with details and more like descriptions he had learned. He wondered how much had changed since he had last been home. The comprehension left him feeling a nostalgic melancholy.
“I’m sorry, Ohacha” Piitra said. He shifted his gaze down to her concerned face. “I asked out of a place of curiosity. I can see by you face that these thoughts are heavy for you. But I appreciate your willingness to share your memories with us. It sounds like a beautiful place. One very different than our home here in Casoya.”
“It is” he said. “A different kind of beauty.”
“Have you had a tour of the city yet?” Reah asked. “We could arrange something for you and your friends.”
Ohacha pursed his lips, embarrassed. “I am flattered by your offer, but I am forbidden from leaving the estate without permission” Ohacha answered. He realized how pathetic is sounded as the words left his lips. Like a child that still needed his hand held.
“You are forbidden?” Piitra asked. “Your uncle won’t let you explore the city? Not even with a guide?”
“It is not that simple” Ohacha explained, trying not to give offence. “My uncle and I are…” enemies of a foreign empire. Targets for assassination. Tired… “hunted” Ohacha finished. “Our family has been split into those loyal to the Careyago Emperor and… well, us. Who are not. The emperor sends assassins and cut-throats to ensure we, who hold the rightful claim to the Kingdom of Gaag, never again set foot in the city. Leaving the estate would be an unnecessary risk to my safety, as much as it pains me to decline.”
“I thought that all this happened years and years ago?” Reah asked. Her face had gone pallid. “Your enemies still send killers after you?”
“Yes” Ohacha admitted. “It was an attack against us that pushed us to leave Onera for Caso. Assassins from the empire breached the walls and killed dozens….” Ander’s lifeless corpse on the white marble, his father’s grief filling the hall. Tears began to well in Ohacha’s eyes. He forced them down.
“You are far too young to have had such a difficult life” Piitra said. “It’s always okay to feel the things you need to feel” Ohacha wasn’t sure if her words were for his comfort on her own.
“No” Ohacha exclaimed, trying to regain some control over his emotions. “It is my duty to learn and become stronger. To conquer my own weaknesses. To restore our Kingdom to its former place, free and independent. To lead my people into that future.” He not-so-subtly wiped the tears from his eyes and took the glass of wine held out towards him. “Thank you” he said, taking a long sip.
“Am I interrupting something?” a younger woman said, entering from behind him. Ohacha turned over his shoulder to see the newcomer. She stood, almost the spitting image of Reah but far younger. She had the same diamond shaped face, the same confidence and grace, but her father’s calculating eyes.
“Ah, Fera” Reah said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning. You remember Piitra?”
“Of course,” Fera said politely, “I’ve grown up seeing Piitra more than my own aunts and uncles.”
Reah smiled, “And this here is young Prince Ohacha Krimas… from Gaag” she added. Ohacha found her gaze intimidating. The fact that he had just moments ago been holding back tears made him feel all the more insubstantial.
“A pleasure” Fera said, her polite smile revealing that it really wasn’t. “Mother, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course, dear” Reah answered. She excused herself and stood, following Reah out into the gardens and away from the pond, leaving Ohacha with Piitra.
Ohacha turned his face back to Piitra. Her face was filled with a giddy excitement that Ohacha immediate distrusted. “How old are you, Ohacha?” Piitra asked. She eyed him like a piece of meat.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your age” she repeated. “How old are you?”
Ohacha had to think for a second about the answer. “This is my twentieth spring”
“Hmm” Piitra said. She spun the wineglass in her hand with a confident ease, the liquid swishing around the clear crystal. “You’re a cute young man, but you might be too young for Fera.”
“For her?” Ohacha asked, surprised by the shift in conversation.
Piitra continued speaking, ignoring him. “Then again, there’s also the fact that you’re a prince with no kingdom. And, as you put it, are an enemy of the Careyago Emperor. On second thought, being too young is the least damaging reason against you.”
Ohacha thought back to Fera’s face and he blushed, not having considered a match. “You’re trying to find her a husband?” Ohacha asked awkwardly.
“Of course,” Piitra said. “Alas, I never had daughters and my two boys are far too much like their father and never let me meddle. I’ve always been like an aunty to Fera, and she’s as close as one finds to a princess in Caso. It’s only right that I help her mother find her a husband soon.”
“And you considered me?” Ohacha asked, blushing.
Piitra covered her mouth with a squeak. It was an odd gesture, almost juvenile. It contrasted against the fact that, despite looking younger than Reah, Piitra was still old enough to be his mother. “I apologize. I get a little carried away with gossip sometimes. Forget I said anything of the sort.” She pulled her cup to her mouth and sipped from it. “It’s a shame, Ohacha. You’re a handsome boy with, what seems like a good head on his shoulders. Finding you a wife will be difficult when it means boldly standing against the Careyago.”
“Finding a wife is the least of my worries” Ohacha admitted into his cup.
Reah returned without her daughter and cast a glance between Ohacha and Piitra. One, still giddy and the other still too embarrassed to make eye contact. Reah sighed and reclaimed her seat, “She tried to play matchmaker again, didn’t she, Ohacha?” Reah smiled as she sipped from her cup and Ohacha’s blush deepened. “You two write it ever so clearly across your faces.”
“Am I so predictable?” Piitra asked with a grin.
“Well,” Reah announced, “I’ve returned to inform you both that unfortunately I cannot stay any longer. A matter of importance has arisen. Please feel free to stay, but I must take my leave.”
“For a woman who doesn’t work” Piitra glowered, “you spend a lot of time working. I thought we’d have time to go shopping today.”
“We’ll find another time” Reah replied. “And I have to stay healthy somehow. Helping Burrenal is the best way.”
“Will Fera be joining us?” Piitra asked cautiously.
“I’m afraid not” Reah said softly. “Fera has plans to visit the Ashill estate today. You remember Yanata’s girls, Kida and Yuromi.”
“Of, course” Piitra said with a smile that hid her disappointment. The two ladies exchanged a kiss, cheek to cheek, and Reah left.
“I should probably leave as well” Ohacha said awkwardly, “I have weapons training today.”
Piitra stared at him, seeing clearly through the excuse. “It was lovely meeting you Ohacha. If your uncle is any bit as charming as you are, and I will ask my husband when I see him later, than it would be a shame not to invite you both to spend an evening with us as our guests. With proper precautions, of course”
“That would be most gracious and an honour” Ohacha said. He meant it too. Ohacha left feeling calmer than he did entering the private pond area. The anger and disappointment from his conversation with Gaba’ke had subsided. In its place, Ohacha now felt inadequate. He wasn’t meeting his elder’s expectations. He wasn’t level-headed enough or strong enough or wise enough to do anything, or so it felt. It made him even angrier. This time, that anger was self-directed. These were things that could change. Things he could change. Improve upon. Become wiser. Become stronger. Become a great leader. He just needed the opportunity to prove himself.
Ohacha walked back down the pathway towards the guesthouse ready to put those feelings into actions. And with the return of Cask and good weather, so to had Ohacha’s weapons training. He looked forward to it. Looked forward to hitting something. That would take his mind away from the thoughts that circled around his head.
The afternoon sun basked the small clearing. They stood in a circle of lush and vibrant plants. Ohacha stretched his limbs, the sweat already sticking to his skin. The air was thick with humidity and the fragrance of the gardens. He swung the practice sword a few times, the anger being channeled into focus. Into a desire to swing hard and smash something. He spun the wooden blade with his wrist, warming up for training.
Cask appeared, his bald head reflecting beads of sweat. In his hands, he carried his twin swords, the ones gifted to him by Ohacha’s grandfather. They were marvelous, with the crest of Gaag etched into the ornate pommel. Seeing them gave Ohacha hope. They were a tether, a reminder, of what they were fighting for. Ohacha tightened his own knuckles around his practice blade, eager for Cask’s instruction.
But that was when Ohacha noticed that with Cask wasn’t wearing his training clothes. And following into the clearing was another person. Rolena marched in carrying her own practice sword and round shield. She looked calm as she took up her stance across from him. Back straight, knees poised, her hair tied back so as not to be a hinderance. It took Ohacha a moment to realize she carried the weapons backwards, with the sword in her left hand and her shied in her right.
“What’s she doing here?” Ohacha asked. “Am I supposed to fight Rolena?”
“Who else would you be fighting?” Cask asked.
“You” Ohacha said. “I was getting the hang of it. Surely it would be beneficial to learn from fighting a master such as yourself?”
“You have indeed proven that you understand the foundations, Ohacha” Cask said. “But you have yet to prove you can hold to what you have learned in a real fight. Rolena will serve well. Grab yourself a shield.”
“Warriors of Gaag don’t fight with shields” Ohacha protested. “You’re a master of the twin swords.”
“That’s nonsense” Cask said. “If I ever march into battle, I’ll do it with a shield on my arm or not at all.”
Ohacha stood his ground. “I don’t need one.”
Rolena looked to Cask for assurance but he dismissed her concerns. “So be it” Cask said. “Before we begin, Ohacha. Remember our lessons. Be nimble on your feet and strike fast. The blade is an extension of your body and–”
“I remember” Ohacha said, interrupting. Cask frowned but Ohacha wasn’t watching. Cask whispered something to Rolena but Ohacha didn’t care to listen. He was ready and focused Even though she was a girl, he wasn’t going to go easy on her. Nor would he underestimate her. She was a warrior, after all. What did she tell me? Her father trained her to fight?
Rolena stood across the clearing in a foreign stance–not at all the Gaagian style. The short sword looked oddly comfortable in her hand. Ohacha had only ever seen her with her crossbow, but he knew she carried her own blade. Aramuk and Cask both seemed confident she knew how to use it. Her dark eyes surveyed him. She won’t go easy on me either.
Between them, standing like a statue, was Cask. Despite his calm appearance, his focus was sharp. He was a master among masters and Ohacha had seen his skill first hand more times than he wished to have. Unlike his uncle, Aramuk, Ohacha yearned to be more like Cask. He was strong, confident, and capable. It was like Cask could face no challenge he couldn’t overcome. The swords master had been an idol to Ohacha even as a young boy. Cask, who appeared so amiable, roared to life with terrifying skill and passion, like an ember combusting into flame.
“Ready?” Cask bellowed. “Go!”
Ohacha leapt into motion. He raised his sword high and slammed it as hard as he could into Rolena’s shield. She grunted under the impact and Ohacha stepped out of range from the counter swing that came from his right. Or so he thought, as the blade slipped further forward than he judged possible and stabbed him painfully in the chest.
“Dead” Cask declared. “Rolena takes the first fight.”
Ohacha winced, dumbfounded. The blade wasn’t sharpened, but it still hurt. Cask’s eyes were on Ohacha, but there was no judgment in them. “This is why we train” Cask said. “Underestimating a real opponent means death. You die here, in this clearing, as many times as it takes for you to understand how not to die out there.”
Ohacha nodded. He was embarrassed, but also still stewing in his anger. They fought again and exchanged several blows. Then without his noticing, Rolena managed to switch her shield and sword hands catching him off-guard and exposed. Cask announced her win and Ohacha held his bruised arm where her blade had caught him. Twice, he had lost to her without her breaking a sweat. Or, at least breaking a sweat from the effort. He was mortified. What had all that training been for?
Cask wiped his head and spoke again, “Better! But I can sense that you’re in your own head. It’s clear that you’re angry Ohacha, but you can’t let that anger control you. You can use it as fuel for your swings, but never as fuel for your mind. Focus, but don’t overthink! Your body knows what to do, you mind just needs to tell it when to react.”
Ohacha’s gaze shifted momentarily towards Cask, nodding in acknowledgment. Focus, he repeated to himself. His mind raced and he did his best to calm himself. She was better than he expected. Or perhaps, he was far worse than he thought. His shoulders tensed and then relaxed. His grip tightened until he could feel the weight of his lonely sword.
“May I take a shield?” Ohacha asked. “I think you were right.” And I was wrong.
“That’s why I’m the master” Cask said, handing Ohacha his own shield. “Only when you are fully confident in your offence can you forgo your defence. Now ready up.”
Ohacha retook his place across from Rolena. She shifted her stance, her small eyes narrowing. She grinned, and Ohacha found the expression unnerving. This time, he wouldn’t underestimate her. She was a soldier—her movements calculated and precise, never wasted. She already was what he hoped to become.
The thwack of hardwood echoed across the garden as Ohacha swung his blade in a wide arc, testing the space between them. Rolena parried with a swift but gentle block, her sword moving with a blur, deflecting his strike with little effort. He swung again, this time to the left, testing to see where she would commit her guards. She avoided the swing and parried the next two that followed.
“Much better” Cask’s voice broke through the tension again. “But your offense lacks conviction. Testing an opponent helps you learn what they might do, but it also lets them learn how you think as well.”
Rolena glowered again as she avoided a more committed swing and then caught the follow up blow on her shield. He tried again with no change. Frustration bubbled inside Ohacha, but he drove it down. Focus, he repeated. Getting angry had gotten him killed in the last two bouts. He couldn’t afford to let it happen again. Ohacha repositioned, stepping forward with a renewed sense of focus, his shield raised to catch Rolena’s blow. He caught her swing high, leaving her sword-hand out of position and he slashed out, aiming at Rolena’s exposed shoulder. She deflected it easily with her shield, stepping back until her sword was freed. She pushed him back with a thrust aimed at the same spot in the ribs she had struck earlier. Ohacha sidestepped, his movement fluid but a beat too slow. The attack only barely missed.
“Your attack was far too predictable,” Rolena challenged. “At the start, your footwork is good but as you go on, it gets slower and heavier. And you’re thinking too much. Trust your instincts more.” Ohacha wasn’t sure whether she was trying to give genuine advice or if she was taunting him.
His breath caught, but he didn’t let it show. He wouldn’t falter. Another attack, this time his blade aimed at her head. Rolena moved out of the swords path. She dodged often and committed to defence only when necessary. Her jabs were timely and precise. He swung again slashing low at her legs. She jumped backwards with ease and swung her blade upwards across his face. He stepped out of range, but the sting of the near-miss bit at his pride.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it!” Cask bellowed. “Don’t think. Feel the rhythm of the fight. The mind sees and reacts, but the body decides the course. You have trained for this.”
Rolena stepped in, her eyes flicking to Cask, who gave a slight nod. With that, she moved to engage more aggressively. Her sword came down in a vicious diagonal slash aimed at Ohacha’s shoulder. He blocked with his blade, but the strike left him exposed as she reached forward with her empty hand. Except, Ohacha remembered her having a shield in that hand before. She had dropped it, committing everything to this last attack by grabbing his arm with her own.
Rolena twisted and tried to pitch him over her shoulder but Ohacha abandoned his own sword to counter the throw. They grappled, each one trying to trip the other. Rolena still gripped her sword awkwardly between her body and Ohacha’s shield. Their hands pulled and grasped for control. Rolena’s foot caught Ohacha off-balance but Ohacha held on, ensuring they tumbled to the ground together and her sword didn’t skewer him in the process.
Ohacha slipped free of her grasp and both fighters rose at the same instant, Rolena with her sword in hand and Ohacha with his shield. Without a weapon, Rolena pressed forward sword held high. Ohacha didn’t think, he simply reacted despite the ache in his arms and shoulders. He swung the shield and it caught her square in the chest. She flew backwards and hit the ground hard, fighting off the unpleasant sensation of having the wind knocked out of you.
“Good,” Cask said, his tone more approving now. “Much better. Now you’re getting it.”
Rolena rose again. She collected her shield and her lips curled into a grin. Ohacha lowered his blade, taking a steadying breath. Sweat dripped down his face, but there was a spark in his chest that hadn’t been there before. It felt like progress, even in the smallest of ways.
“Again, Ohacha. You must ready yourself to face your future. If you truly wish to defeat your father’s enemies, then you must first conquer each challenge that comes before,” Cask said, stepping forward. “Do you understand?”
Cask’s question hung in the air. Ohacha’s chest heaved under the strain. His lungs burned. His muscled ached. He was tired. But for the first time since exile, Ohacha found something within him that said, yes, you can do this. It felt like hope, perhaps. Or power. A glimpse at a future where he had control and agency. He pictured it; the dream of one day returning to Gaag to reclaim what was stolen from him. “Yes” Ohacha answered, still catching his breath.
“Good,” Cask said, “Focus up and go again.”
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