To the south of the city, beyond the walls that had been originally erected to protect against raiding tribes and villages in the mountains, lay Mudtown. Or at least, what had once been Mudtown. Built upon the main road, Mudtown had originally been a small hamlet of homes that supported fishermen and farmers. The people relied on Lake Caso for survival and primarily fished the lake and the estuary for fish, crabs, and other mollusks. As the city within the walls grew upwards, old blocks of homes were torn down and people unable to afford it were pushed out of the city and into the surrounding towns and villages. Places that, at one time only housed and few hundred, now grew to communities with thousands. The very mountain people who once raided the city and its inhabitants in centuries past now came down from their villages to suckle at the wealth the city of gold brought. Now they stirred conflict outside the gates with their mouths and wants as much as their knives and violence. A new era of barbarism.

The old quaint village that had once been Mudtown was now a sprawling slum of makeshift shacks and mud-caked poverty. The narrow, winding alleys of Mudtown were churched into a viscous filth by the ceaseless foot traffic of its impoverished inhabitants. At least once a year, the lake would spill over its edges and a layer of brown mud would fill and then settle over the area. The homes here were constructed of salvaged scraps of wood and thatch and perched just high enough to let the floods only tickle the top of floorboards; if the residents were lucky. Everywhere Yuromi looked, she saw poor dirty women in entryways. They had children in their arms or at their backs and they watched her and her companions as they marched down the muddy street.

It was her first week on patrol in Mudtown and she wasn’t happy with the change. Yuromi was well aware that her connection to her mother, Patzau Ashill and the Ashill family name awarded her certain perks. Most of which included the fact that she had never before been assigned a patrol in Mudtown or any the other smaller slums. But, ever since the increase in tensions between the gangs outside the city walls and the increased level of violence, crackdowns had been stricter. And, that had required additional soldiers assigned to the area. Her eyes moved from alley to alley, doorway to doorway, ever on the lookout for activity. The shady men who loitered around every alleyway and streetcorner made determining the difference between who looked like trouble and, who would actually cause trouble, very difficult. By her account, they all looked like trouble. What she didn’t understand was that she looked like trouble to them too.

Children with bare feet and torn clothes ran through the streets, laughing despite the bleakness of their situation. Yuromi led her squad through the quiet streets. There were ten of them, including her as Squad Sergeant. She had Corporal Gora with her and eight patrol guards. Soldiers, each and every one of them. Each soldier wore a thick woven soft body armour stuffed tight with cotton above an undershirt or bare skin, relative to the individual’s preference. Below they wore matching sarong and hard leather shoes to protect their feet. The mud had already caked the shoes making each step a grueling challenge.  Each soldier carried a standard issue spear made of ash and a thin dagger-like bladed at the head. Soldiers also carried a hard-wood club on their hip, known as a ghata. As officers, Yuromi and Gora both carried short swords instead of the ghata. The patrol group walked in a tight formation, never allowing any one person to be left alone. White knuckles held tight to each lance. Eyes remained as sharp as the honed tip of each spear.

The group moved with quiet determination. People watched them as they passed with either resignation or in the odd case, defiance. Here in Mudtown, the trees had all been cut down and the hot sun kept an ever-watchful gaze on their activities. The city walls loomed overhead, a constant reminder of the power and protection the city walls had to offer. Yuromi wished nothing more than to return to them early; to end the ceaseless vigilance for danger around every corner. The checking of each set of eyes that dared to meet hers as she marched. Instead, her sense of duty kept her marching forward through the labyrinthine maze of shacks and hovels. She took comfort in knowing that a dozen other squads marched nearby as a show of force.

The path widened once again and the squad stepped back onto one of the main avenues that bisected Mudtown. Here, the threat was lower. Further up the street, Yuromi could see another squad of soldiers emerging from the maze of homes and she and the other officer exchanged a quick signal. They were okay. On the main avenues, business that serviced the community flourished. Homes doubled as storefronts for goods, food, and services.

“Halt here” Yuromi ordered. Her squad followed suit. The tense looks eased now that they were more out in the open. She looked down the other way just as another squad appeared from the inner alleyways. She waited and gave the same ‘we’re okay’ signal to the officer of the second squad.

“Both squads are confirmed” she said to the group. “Let’s grab some food and water.”

“Thank the spirits” one of her soldiers said. He was a stocky man with a sparse moustache and small eyes. Grim, was his name.

“You out of water already?”

“Piss. I was out of water an hour in.” he said.

“Let’s hit the well then.”

Yuromi led her squad up the street to the main intersection where another squad was already waiting around. There was some kind of disagreement and Yuromi separated from her squad to find out more information.

“We can’t drink this” one of the soldiers said. “I guarantee we get sick from this shit” the man said, pouring out the brown water onto the muddy cobblestones.

“How do you think I feel?” a man shouted back. A local. “I have two children and a wife. My family must either drink this water or we must hike outside the city to collect water from one of the mountain streams.”

“Boil it” the squad officer said to the local man.

“I can’t boil the filth out of the water” the man said. “All of the pumps are like this here.”

“Why don’t you collect rainwater?” Yuromi asked, shifting attention. The other squad’s officer gave her a look and then a nod. She didn’t really know the man. He wasn’t from one of the prominent families. He was tall with thick arms and legs.

“We do” the man said, “but people have been stealing our water. They have been stealing water from everyone.”

“Who has been stealing the water?” the soldier asked.

“I don’t know” the man said. “I’ve never caught them.”

“Sounds like an excuse” the soldier said. Frustration flashed across the local man’s face and the woman behind him spit over her shoulder at the comment.

“We are dying of thirst” the man said. “We have food aplenty but there is little water.”

“Take from the lake” another soldier suggested. “Boil that.”

“The lake water is dirtier than the wells are.”

“And whose fault is that?” the abrasive soldier countered. “That’s what you get for shitting in the lake.”

Another round of shouting and arguing broke out after that comment. Yuromi didn’t feel like getting in the middle of it and returned to her squad as they watched from further back.

“No luck?” Corporal Gora said. He wore a flat wide brimmed hat straw that kept the sun off his bare shoulders and face.

Yuromi shook her head. “No, the well appears to be dirty. The locals are arguing with the other squad about what to do about it.”

“Have they tried collecting rainwater?” Gora asked.

“People are stealing water, apparently” Yuromi answered.

“Damn” one of the other soldiers said. “That’s rough. So where are we going to get some water?”

“Why don’t we try one of the local restaurants.” Yuromi suggested. “They’ll probably have water but it’ll cost us.”

“Beats marching another couple of hours without any.” Grim said. He hocked and spit loudly.

“Let’s move then” Yuromi ordered. “We can pick any old place on the street.”

“Why don’t we get a recommendation.” Gora said.

“The only thing the people here will recommend to us is to get the fuck out” Grim said with a rude chuckle. “That or the best place to get a knife in the back mid meal.”

Yuromi didn’t laugh. She felt similarly though she would never say so. Instead, their group wandered down the main avenue. Locals steered clear of them. She preferred it that way. She found a restaurant and ducked in through a cloth doorway. The place was miraculously clean of mud. She paused in the entryway, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. The dining room was long and narrow. There were tables stretching all the way back towards a kitchen at the very back. The place was mostly empty, save for a few patrons enjoying their lunch. All eyes turned to her and the other soldiers as they filed into the room.

In the back by the kitchen, all manner of activity broke loose as the cooks realized the size and importance of their new arrivals. Yuromi and her soldiers made their way towards a table in a tucked away corner. Gora collect the spears and leaned the weapons against the wall, away from the other patrons. Yuromi watched as a young boy, maybe twelve or so, appeared from the back by the kitchen carrying a bottle of palm wine. He set the bottle down on the table without a word and then scampered back towards the kitchen. One of Yuromi’s soldiers reached for the bottle and she signaled for her to wait. A woman appeared from the back and walked to their table. 

“Welcome” she said nervously. Her eyes fell on the unopened bottle. “Please consider this bottle a gift. It is not every day we see so many soldiers in our humble home. Today we are serving a fish stew with fried miri-quail eggs. We can also make some extra vegetables for the table if this is not enough food.”

“That would be most appreciated” Yuromi said. “We’ll take the vegetables too and if you have it, a large bottle of water for the table would be much appreciated.”

“Of course,” the woman said, and she like the boy scampered off towards the kitchen. Yuromi watcher her go, peering back over her chair. She could here the woman and another man shouting at each other in the mountain dialect. A fact that immediately bred distrust. Yuromi turned back, intending to encourage them not to open the wine only to see the bottle already poured across the table and half gone.

“Well, I’ll be damned” Grim said. “This shit’s actually pretty good” he said after taking another gulp. “If its cheap I might bring some home with me.”

Yuromi frowned. She looked up at the boards in the ceiling and let out a long loud sigh that drew the full attention of her squad. They exchanged a few looks but when she didn’t look back down, they returned to their conversation and drink. The serving woman appeared again, carrying a tray with bowls of fish stew. Yuromi brought her wandering thoughts back down from the ceiling and took a large clay jug from the young boy. Yuromi took the jug and looked inside, following the action with a quick sniff. It smelled like water and she poured herself some, ignoring the cup wine that had been poured for her. She wasn’t in the right mood to drink. Spirits, I might hit somebody. The food was edible but nothing special but the squad seemed to enjoy it. She enjoyed the water and the respite from the hot sun more than anything else.

A crash of pots sounded from the kitchen and Yuromi but Yuromi ignored it, now interested in a story Gora was telling about a gambling den bust that his mate in another squad had taken part in a few weeks back. She nearly jumped from her chair when a hand touched her arm gently. She looked down in alarm as the serving boy looked up at her with wide eyed panic. She noticed she had a table knife at the boy’s throat. Yuromi didn’t remember picking it up off the table. It had been instinct. He had fallen backwards onto his hands at the unexpected threat of danger. Her eyes of panicked murderous instinct met his eyes of panicked survival.

“Please” the boy croaked. It was almost a whisper. The story stopped as everyone looked, only able to see their sergeant’s reaction and not the boy on the ground.

“What?” she asked, not hearing what he had said.

“Please” he repeated with a stronger hiss. “There are men in the back. They have my parents!”

“What?” Yuromi repeated, dumbfounded.

“Men with weapons” the boy repeated. “I don’t know how many. They have my mother.”

Yuromi stood swiftly but careful not to scrape her chair. She replaced the table knife and reached for her short sword. The blade hissed a soft metallic ring as Yuromi pulled it from the sheath. The boy backed away, still on his hands and knees. Corporal Gora drew his sword and the other members of the squad pulled out their ghata clubs.

“Gora” she said, not looking back. “Take Grim and Bila with your spears around to check out the back of the building. Be extra cautious!” Corporal Gora nodded and moved to collect the lances from their resting place in the corner. Looking down again at the serving boy, he pointed towards the kitchen, terror in his eyes. Yuromi skulked slowly towards the rear of the building and paused on the other side of a gnarled piece of woven thatch that stood as a sad looking door to the kitchen. On the other side, she could hear voices. She threw up a hand sign to signal her soldiers to wait. She could hear muffled pleading.

“Please” a man’s voice said through a thick mountain accent, “We’ve been paying our tributes. I don’t understand.”

“Paying to whom?” another man’s voice said. A younger voice that seeped arrogance.

“To Farzhad” the first man said. “We pay Farzhad every month. We haven’t missed one payment.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken then” the younger voice continued, “you’ve been paying the wrong person. We’re in control this territory now. The Kakulti gang is who you’ll be paying from here on out and it’s time to pay up.” The man laughed and a chorus of voices laughed alongside him.

“Ok. But we’ve already paid Farzhad. We don’t have enough money to pay twice.”

A thump sounded and with it came the groan of pain and wheeze of breath. “You pay the tribute today. If you don’t, I’ll take over this establishment and leave you into the swampland to play with the crocodiles. Are you understanding me now?”

“I promise” the man wheezed. “We have no money. We can begin paying next month. I promise this to you.”

Another heavy thump and gasped wheeze of pain. For a split second, a woman’s shriek broke the silence before being immediately muffled again. Yuromi knew this was her chance. Their attention would be on the woman for the outburst. She cursed the tight space. She would have to go first and alone and prayed they wouldn’t expect her attack.

She lunged forward and burst through the sorry excuse of a door with her right shoulder. The thatch exploded into its component parts, too brittle to survive her advance. There were six people inside the small kitchen. Ahead of her stood the older doubled-over man she presumed to be the cook and the younger kid who was his assailant. To her left were two thugs, one of them holding his hand over the serving woman’s mouth. To her right, was a sixth man brandishing an axe. In the blink of an eye, she had already poised her blade and rushed forward to stab the sword into the gang leader’s ribs near the armpit. The blade bit bone but passed through, sinking deep. She knew in an instant her strike would kill him.

She turned to her right to take the man behind him with the axe. He reeled in shock. She focused solely on killing this man, trusting her squad to handle the other two behind her. Yuromi pulled her blade out from the first thug and it came away crimson. The axeman’s shock quickly morphed into rage. He raised the weapon high and swung with all his might. He had the drop on her and she knew it. Instead of bringing up her blade, which she knew she couldn’t do in time, she reached high with her empty right hand and caught his right wrist. She didn’t have the strength to stop him but she did have the experience to use the split second it gave her to lunge under his attack and bring her sword up and into his abdomen. For the second time, her blade sunk deep into a man’s flesh.

However, in catching her attacker’s wrist, the axe escaped from his grasp and whirled clumsily, catching her in the shoulder just below where the cotton body armour protected. The blade sliced clean through her shirt and left a long shallow gash. The force of the blow knocked her off balance. She hit the ground flat on her back and the man she had just skewered toppled on top of her.

Yuromi gasped as the air was forcibly expelled her lungs just as much by the falling man as from the impact with the floorboards. Blinding tears welled in her eyes as she fought to inhale a new breath. When breath finally came, she heaved and pushed the man off of her. Her sword had escaped her hand as she had fallen. It was still impaled in the man she had just killed. Yuromi rolled slowly onto her front and vomited out the soup and water she had just eaten. She wiped the tears from her eyes and took in the situation.

Her soldiers controlled the kitchen. She sighed in relief and slowly pulled herself to her feet. The man, the cook who was being extorted, wasn’t quite screaming but also wasn’t quite crying. A mix of the two. She followed his gaze and saw the reason for his distress. The man who had been holding the waitress hostage had killed her it seemed. She lay on the ground, unmoving. Fuck, Yuromi thought.

“Are you okay, Sergeant?” one of her soldiers said. Yuromi could have sworn the man was speaking Mada’abi. She didn’t register a word he said. He turned away and shouted and she followed his gaze. That’s when she looked at her soldiers. There were two more of them hovering over another body. She took an awkward step forward. Then another one. She stepped on something and looked down. It was the axe that had tried to kill her. She looked back up and saw all of the soldiers in the room looking back at her, expectantly. That’s when she saw the dead soldier. Her dead squadmate. Oh, fuck, she thought again.

Inside the Casoyan fortress, on the third floor of the inner keep, Yuromi sat hunched over a wooden table. This room was reserved for senior officers meeting, but tonight she had it all to herself. They had stripped her of her weapons and left her here alone after her briefing about the incident. That’s what they were calling it now; the restaurant incident. The room was spacious, meant to hold thirty officers but felt empty. To her left, a pair of thin murder holes served as the only excuse for windows. Through one, she could see the last orangey pink hues of sundown and the other, the deeper indigo veil of dusk. A lone illum stone table lamp cast a soft glow in the otherwise dark room. Darkness filled the corners of the room and Yuromi watched as a shy shadowy spirit hovered around the edge of darkness. The spirit seemed to disappear into the darkness and she couldn’t tell if it was truly phasing from existence and reappearing or simply slipping too far from the light for her to see it.

Yuromi had returned to the fortress with her whole squad, minus their fallen comrade, and after her individual briefing, she had been separated from the rest of them. At first, she had simply felt this was the order of events but now, after several mind-numbing hours, she felt she was being punished. Or worse, on the verge of being actually punished. Although, she couldn’t think of a reason why. She replayed the event over and over again in her head and came to the same conclusions. She had taken the necessary precautions, followed protocol, and acted as befitting her station. They couldn’t punish her for a soldier lost in the line of duty, could they? Officially, they had killed eight gang members; the four inside the kitchen and three more who tried to escape out the back onto to find themselves impaled on Casoyan spears. The eighth, as far as the official report was concerned, was the serving woman. To Yuromi’s dismay, she was told it would be improper to include any civilians as a casualty in the report. ‘Plus, an eight-to-one ratio is better than a seven-to-two’, the guild clerk had said. She hadn’t argued.

She thought about the dead soldier on the wooden floorboards of the makeshift building that had served as the restaurant’s kitchen. The soldier who had died was called Peran. She had been in the guild for two years and was, as far as Yuromi could tell, a good soldier. Although, Yuromi hadn’t really known her. She knew her name, not her story. The sense of loss she felt was connected with her sense of duty and responsibility. It hurt knowing that she failed this member of her squad, not specifically the fact that the woman had died. People die all the time. Her father had died. People die. Things go away. That’s just the way the world turns. And yet, she sat here with the fabric of misery stretched across her heart. Not for the soldier, and she felt guilty for that truth, but for the young son of that mother who lay next to the soldier, equally as dead. For the look on his face as he processed what had happened. When he went to her. And Yuromi saw the calm blank look on the dead woman’s face. Whom looked almost no different than she had just a shot span ago, before she had taken her last silent breath. For the pain of losing a parent. Of losing somebody so precious to you that the very solidity of the world comes into question and all you can do is feel the weight of that loss in an unfathomable overwhelming pressure of presence that, Yuromi knew, would one day fade to numbness. She would remember that look.

The wooden door latch clinked and the metal hinges squeaked open. Yuromi turned to face the doorway, unsure what to expect. The first person to enter was Chief Commander Yanello, who served under Yuromi’s mother as leader of the Patrol and Scout units. He was a scruffy man with a lighter hair, almost almond in colour, and a set of spectacles he used to supplement his actively worsening eyesight. Following Commander Yanello was her squad captain, Captain Horval. Yuromi drew her arms to her chest. She and the Captain didn’t get along particularly well. He was straight as an arrow and was meticulous in his fervor to do things by the book. They had clashed numerous times over this fact and only the friendship and support of her lieutenant had spared her from his punishment. They locked eyes, but Yuromi didn’t sense any disappointment in them. She was almost surprised. But what truly surprised her was the final two figures who brought up the rear of the group: Patzau Yanata Ashill, her mother, followed by her Aginjigaade Elvi Batari. What the fuck is happening, she thought to herself. She sat up straight and Elvi shot her a quick smile.

“Good evening” Commander Yanello said, taking a seat at a chair across from her. He pulled a stone from his pocket and flipped it over. It shone with a bit of extra light and filled the room with a warmer glow. The shadowy spirit vanished, probably off to find a new patch of darkness, Yuromi thought.

“Good evening, Commander” Yuromi said, “Captain” she said, gesturing to Captain Horval. She watcher her mother and Elvi take their seats but was still a little too shocked to say anything.

“No welcome for your mother?” Patzau Ashill said.

“Welcome… Patzau Ashill. To what do I owe the honour?”

“To the dead soldier on your squad” Patzau Ashill said flatly. Yuromi stared blankly.

“Look, Yuromi” Commander Yanello said, drawing her attention to him. “You’re not here because you’re in any specific trouble. We’ve had conversations with the members of your squad and even a discussion with some trusted locals in Mudtown. We think we have a very good understanding of what happened and we are pleased that you took matters into your own hands to handle the situation as well as you did.”

“But…” Yuromi said, knowing it was coming.

“No. No but” Commander Yanello said.

“Yes but” Patzau Ashill cut in. “Somebody died, Yuromi. We understand that this is a risk that all of our guild members take while serving for the greater prosperity and safety of the city but that doesn’t mean there will not be consequences.”

“Yes” Yanello said, “There will be consequences. We had a discussion with your squad members and they each spoke highly of how you handled the situation. You were thorough, acted quickly but not rash, and showed that you are a capable leader and fighter.”

“Then why am I being punished?” Yuromi asked, defensively.

Captain Horval snapped his fingers loud enough to draw the attention of all in the room. Yuromi stared at him, wondering how he did it. “This has always been my struggle with you, Sergeant Ashill” he said, making eye contact with the Patzau, “Think again on the words Patzau Ashill said, there will be consequences. Not punishment. There is a difference.”

“Thank you, Captain” Yanello said. “We are suspending you from active duty for a month. Use this time to recuperate from your injuries and mourn your loss. You can still come and go from guild spaces at your free will, but there is no expectation for you to arrive for active service. You will be barred from rejoining any squad functions for two weeks, but can volunteer to return after that time.”

“Wait, what?” Yuromi asked. “What about my squad?”

“Each of them has already been given the same leave” Yanello answered. “Your small group has now seen more action than most city patrollers see in a year. And, you all handled it well. Enjoy your time off.”

Commander Yanello and Captain Horval stood, taking their leave. Yuromi saluted and then turned her attention towards her mother who still sat with Elvi across the table to her left. The three women sat in silence while the two men left the room, closing the small door behind them.

“Did all of you really need to be there for that?” Yuromi asked.

“We are still on guild business.” Patzau Ashill snapped. “Please treat this as such.”

“Yes, ma’am” Yuromi said.

“What did you think you were doing, moving against those thugs like that?”

“What do you mean?” Yuromi said, taken aback. “It’s my job to stop thugs and murderers like those men.”

“It’s your job to keep the peace! Why were you even in that shit hole?” Patzau Ashill asked.

“The restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“It was hot and we needed water” Yuromi said defensively.

“Why didn’t you get some from one of the wells?”

“The well water nearby is polluted. We needed food anyway so we stopped.”

“Spirits, do you know how much danger you put your squad in by going off alone like that?”

“We weren’t in any danger.” Yuromi protested. “The gangs don’t attack soldiers on the main road and there were other squads nearby.” She looked to Elvi for support but the woman stayed quiet.

“That was stupid and you almost got yourself and your squad killed!”

“No!” Yuromi yelled back. “It was the right thing to do and we killed seven criminals. Men who can no longer intimidate and steal from regular folks. Scrum that can never again harass our soldiers. And we helped innocent people while doing it.”

“You could have died!” Patzau Ashill protested. It finally clicked for Yuromi. The real reason her mother was upset. A bitterness rose up within her.

“And you said this was guild business…” Yuromi said, fighting back tears. “I’m not dad.”

Patzau Ashill rose suddenly and for a split second, Yuromi thought her mother might strike her.

“And if you wanted me to be safe and overprotected so much, maybe pull your little strings and don’t have me transferred to patrols outside the city walls…” Yuromi goaded, “just like you did with Kida.”

Elvi caught the hand that moved to strike Yuromi across the face from across the table. Even in at her age and with eight years behind the Patzau’s desk, Yuromi knew best how fierce her mother was. She flinched. The hand would have struck her if not for Elvi’s intervention.

“I don’t have to worry about your twin sister because she listens to me and doesn’t do stupidly rash things.” Yanata spat. Not Patzau Ashill anymore.

“What are you taking about!?” Yuromi yelled. “You were a soldier yourself. You were fighting against the barbarian tribes in the mountain uprisings at our age. Your two daughters live in the safest time period this city has ever known and you can’t handle that were on familiar streets keeping the people of this city safe?”

“I just want to protect you” Yanata said, sternly.

“And that’s fine” Yuromi said. “Do what you want. You’re the one in charge. But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t try to protect me and transfer me to patrol Mudtown. And the truth we both know is that if I let you protect me as much as you wanted, I’ll turn out like Kida.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with your sister?” Yanata demanded.

“Nothing” Yuromi said, “But you and I both know that no person has ever described her as capable, let alone a leader. If you had it your way, neither of us would end up like you.”

“I don’t want either of you to end up like me.” Yanata said. Elvi recoiled at that one, understanding the truth behind those words.

“Maybe that isn’t your choice” Yuromi answered. “Am I free to go?”

“Yes” Elvi said. Yanata gave Elvi a stern look and to her credit, Yuromi watched her return it.

Yuromi rose and left. The two women watched her leave, the door clicking shut behind her.

“Official guild business huh?”

“Shut up, Elvi” Yanata said. She breathed in deep and buried her hand in her face.

“She’s right you know” Elvi said. “Spirits, it’s like I’m seeing a spitting image of you.”

Yanata sighed into the silence that followed, “That’s what I’m worried about.”