The Great Casoyan Auction House was everything Prince Ohacha Krimas imagined it would be. Inside, the guild was split into tiers of patronage with common merchants, sellers, and buyers at the bottom, all the way up to the nobility from Caso and the wider world at the top. Only those important and wealthy enough earned an invitation to the Great Auction’s highest-level festivities and it was amongst these people that Ohacha felt he belonged. They dressed in rare and exquisite clothes. Beads of precious stones, gold, and shells graced their necks and wrists. They carried themselves with importance and grace. The many servants present treated each person with respect as they meandered through the room catering luxuries like liquors with real chunks of ice, spiced skewered meats, grilled fishes, and candied fruits. Everywhere Ohacha looked, he saw what his life should have been like. He reveled in it. He yearned for it. His uncle did not.

Prince Aramuk Krimas stood out as dull in the otherwise vibrant room. Unlike Ohacha, he dressed conservatively and seemed dour despite the occasion. While Ohacha and the many others attending the exclusive festivities had the good sense to be merry, Aramuk seemed once again incapable of enjoying himself. He, Lord Kulimas, and Gaba’ké were caught up in a hushed argument and so Ohacha found reason to slip away from his uncle’s side to discover his own fun in the wide ballroom before the Auction began.

Cask and Rolena followed at Ohacha’s heels dressed in their own ceremonial clothes. For Cask, that meant clean clothes without holes in them and for Rolena, that meant polished armour and colourful underclothes that matched the Casoyan trends. Where she had found the outfit, Ohacha would never know. All that mattered to him was that the jeweled swords at their hips were displayed prominently. They would serve to further cement his place amongst these people.

Piitra Hadashenta appeared out of the crowd and beelined straight for Ohacha. She wore an exquisite dress that looked as if it were made of scales of jewels and a gaggle of women followed at her heels. “Ohacha!” Piitra shouted and she ran forward and embraced him in an awkward hug. It was far more friendly than Ohacha had anticipated and he found himself blushing under Cask and Rolena’s intrigued gazes. “I didn’t think you were going to be here?” Piitra said. “You told me that you never go outside.” It was an accusation. “Ladies, this is Prince Ohacha Krimas of Gaag.” She introduced the women in her entourage one by one but by the time the fourth woman was introduced, he had already forgotten the first three.

Ohacha threw his palms up defensively, “I didn’t know we were going to attend until this morning. My uncle changed his mind and so we’ve added some of our own family items to the auction to spice things up.” Piitra gave an interested squeal. Ohacha deliberately refrained from elaborating that ‘some’ of the family items meant most of their collection of relics and valuables smuggled out of Gaag before the betrayal. It was their entire history being sold for the chance at giving him back his future. “Piitra,” Ohacha added, trying to be polite, “With me are Cask Gohara, the greatest swordsman in the west….” Cask gave a modest bow. Ohacha continued, “and Rolena…”

“Yongjaa” Rolena finished, “Greatest marksman across the starlight isles.” Ohacha gave her a furrowed look but Piitra’s group of women appeared starstruck and that pleased him.

“You certainly have the most interesting friends” Piitra said. “I cannot wait to see the items you’ve put up for auction. Is this your first time attending? Then the auction will be a spectacle you’ll thoroughly enjoy! It was wonderful seeing you again, Ohacha. But I must do my rounds and share my greeting with the many wonderful friends who’ve come tonight. I will see you inside, I’m sure!”

“Absolutely” Ohacha said, letting Piitra and her followers disappear into the crowd.

“Well, I didn’t realize that you’d made a friend” Cask said in a teasing tone. “Nor did I know you considered yourself the greatest marksmen across the starlight isles” he added to Rolena.

“Those women only care for the story. The spectacle” Rolena said with a shrug.

“Who was that?” Cask asked.

“That was Piitra Hadashenta” Ohacha said, staring off into the crowd. “She’s the wife of Patzau Hadashenta of the Auction House.”

“That explains a lot” Cask said, using the opportunity to grab a skewer of meat from a passing plate.

“We should return to your uncle” Rolena said.

“I’m perfectly safe here with you two” Ohacha said defensively.

“That’s not why” Rolena countered. “He’s over there talking with Patzau Yohati and Patzau Hadashenta. You told me you want to be more involved. Now seems like a good opportunity.”

Ohacha wanted to protest, but doing so would mean arguing against his past self and so he relented. But before making it to his uncle and the two Patzau, Gaba’ké intercepted the group. Ohacha stared down at the old Aginjigaade. He was a head taller than the man now, but that didn’t change the fact that Gaba’ké was immovable as a mountain. He appeared enthusiastic.

“Look straight past those people over there” Gaba’ké said, drawing Ohacha to his side. “Over to the left, there’s a man in a dark blue coat and blue checkered sarong.” Gaba’ké said, pointing. “Do you see him?”

“Yeah” Ohacha said, spotting the man at the edge of the crowd.

“Now, fifteen paces to the left of him” Gaba’ké continued, “The woman wearing a green kebaya”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Spirits, the woman in the green blouse, Ohacha” Gaba’ké groaned.

“Okay,” he said, “I see her.”

“Now, behind you about thirty paces back, there’s a woman in military uniform with several other officers. She’s the shorter one with the blue lapels on her shoulder.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to show me” Ohacha said.

“Including me, that brings the total to four Aginjigaade in just this room. There are three more outside the building in the market square, and nine more spread elsewhere in the auction house building. That’s sixteen Aginjigaade in this small area. There are few places in the wide world where you might find such a gathering.”

“Do you allude to the cumulative power or wealth?” Lord Kulimas asked. Ohacha stared at the old lord who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. More than that, Ohacha was surprised by his sudden interest in the conversation. He had been a shell of himself since his son Ander’s death at the hands of the Aginjigaade assassin in Onera. It seemed imprudent to talk of Aginjigaade in front of him.

“I was pointing out the rarity of such a gathering, but I suppose power is the answer to your question” Gaba’ké replied. “I was also trying to demonstrate that like all people, there is diversity and individuality amongst us.”

“How do you mean?” Rolena asked. Gaba’ké watched her hands fiddle with the empty clasp where her crossbow would have sat instead of the sword. She looked uncomfortable without it.

“Even among the four of us in the room,” Gaba’ké gestured, “The woman behind us is a military officer, and a high ranking one by the company she keeps. The man in blue appears to be a local associated with one of the guilds, and the foreign woman in the green kebaya is clearly in charge of her group; perhaps a lord or dignitary or princess from another kingdom.”

Ohacha stared at the lady in the green dress without meaning to. Unlike Ohacha and his troupe from Gaag, she wore an outfit that matched the local customs. He and his stood out in the crowd while she effortlessly blended in despite her distinct facial features that marked her as an outsider. He found himself wondering where she and her people had come from. How they too had come to be in this room. What had brought them here.

“Ohacha!” Rolena repeated, louder this time. He jerked to look at her, startled back to attention, then followed her gaze to where Aramuk approached with Patzau Yohati and his wife and daughter at his side.

“We appear to be ready to begin” Yohati announced. “I will see you upstairs in a moment” Yohati said prompting a confused look from his wife. “Let’s go dear” he added, leading his family up the stairway to the second floor.

Aramuk turned to address the remaining members of his group. “Patzau Yohati has graciously offered three empty seats in his box to us. Ohacha, myself, and Lord Kulimas will sit upstairs with the Patzau. Gaba’ké, Rolena, Cask, you have seats reserved in the lower lever on the right. Speak with an attendant and you’ll be led inside.”

“My prince,” Lord Kulimas said, “it would be safer to have Gaba’ké at your side.”

“We won’t need protection when seated next to the most important man in the city” Aramuk answered. “It would be proper for you, as a lord of Gaag, to join us upstairs.”

“That is most gracious, my prince.” Lord Kulimas said. Ohacha was inclined to disagree. Gaba’ké’s attendance would be a better display of power and wealth. Lord Kulimas wasn’t even that important a lord, as far as Ohacha could recall.

“Alright, we’ll meet back here after the auction has ended” Aramuk said, leading the way upstairs.

The illum lights were dimmed using an unfamiliar mechanism right as Ohacha, Aramuk, and Yoliim took their seats next to Yohati and his family. A hidden orchestra begun to play music and a singer appeared, singing in a voice as smooth as silk. The audience clapped and Ohacha right along with them, despite his inability to comprehend her words. The auction master appeared and introduced the items that came up for sale. Ohacha was surprised by the wide breadth of items; everything from properties, contracts, luxury goods, and ships. All the way through the show, attendants appeared bringing bottles of wine, sweets, and more foods right to their seats. There was a showmanship to the auction, just as Piitra had promised and Ohacha was surprised to learn just how much time had passed when the auction master introduced their own auctioned items.

“Now, for something very special, we have one of the oldest and rarest collections from the west.” The auctioneer said. “Please allow me to present to you, the luxurious collections of the Krimas Dynasty of Gaag.” A dozen attendants entered carrying trays of precious stones, jewelry, nacre, pearls, sculpted ivory and bronze, and a collection of ceremonial weapons including swords, knives, and shields. One of the best-preserved items of their collection was a tableware set of banded agate. Four plates, four bowls, eight cups, each with gold inlay.

“For those of you unfamiliar with the Krimas Dynasty,” The auctioneer continued, “the Krimasian Kings of Gaag have been heralded royalty since the founding of Gaag nine hundred years ago. That makes their line one of the oldest continuous ruling lineages in the known world and most impressively, the very first Krimasian King is fabled to be Bolinar the Hunter from the legends. Yes! You know the one! Bolinar from the legends of Nottawa the Seafarer. As far as the legends go, Bolinar fill in love with the princess of a small kingdom and in the place where they first met, he built a new castle against the sea that could withstand the strength of the ocean storms.”

Lord Kulimas leaned over to Ohacha and whispered in his ear. “I recognize your uncle’s handiwork when I see it. People want a good story as much as a fancy necklace.”

The auctioneer continued on with the trays of goods around him illuminated by hidden lights or mirrors, “… some of the legendary pieces you see before you today once belonged to Bolinar from his legendary journey around the five seas. We will start with the jewelry items and work our way across to some of the more unique pieces.”

Ohacha felt drunk. It could have been their success at the auction, but more likely than not it was the second bottle of wine he had polished off. A servant had brought a third bottle but Aramuk had stayed his hand when he had reached for it, killing Ohacha’s good spirits. Even the old Lord Kulimas looked elated at the prices the items they had brought were selling for. Thousands of silver coins would soon be theirs to spend on whatever the needed. A new damned army, for one thing, Ohacha thought to himself. He peered over the railing down onto the crowd below and spotted Cask, Rolena, and Gaba’ké off to one side of the auction hall watching the show. And it had been a show. Ohacha never expected the Casoyan Auction to be as fun as it had turned out to be. The auctioneer spoke in an easily understood Tralang with no hint of a Casoyan accent. He was witty and charming with the audience and had a candor that felt endearing.  

“Thank you!” the Auctioneer shouted to the crowd, and Ohacha had half a mind to shout his cheerfulness back at the man. “Now, for tonight’s finale” the auctioneer continued, “we have one last special item from Gaag.” Ohacha sat, curious about the final special item. He was too drunk to notice the concerned scowl that appeared on his uncle’s face right next to him.

“As many of you are aware. Many of the Krimasian items available today are due to the end of the dynasty several years ago. The final item up for auction, is the true embodiment of this change. Lords and ladies, the Casoyan Auction house is pleased to present to you the lost throne of Gaag!”

Two attendants entered from behind carrying a beautifully carved wooden throne with gold and pearl inlay. The throne was easily two meters tall and had carvings of legendary spirits, one on either shoulder and one on either armrest. The two on the shoulder were birds with wings spreading out as if they belonged to the sitter, while the two on the armrests depicted hunting cats. The bottom of the throne was sculpted to look like the whole chair sat atop a turtle with a shell as wide as the seat, its four clawed feet supporting the world above it. Ohacha stared down at the throne, astonished. It was beautiful. Everything he remembered it being. But it was his. Or it should have been his. Why sell it? They had enough money now.

Ohacha turned to Aramuk, “Uncle, I didn’t know we possessed the throne” he remarked.

“We don’t, Ohacha” Aramuk responded. He saw the scowl on plain across his uncle’s face and realization dawned on him. He finally understood what was happening.

“What the hell, who…?” Ohacha asked to nobody and everybody all at once. He turned to see Aramuk whispering tersely with Patzau Yohati.

Lord Kulimas grabbed Ohacha by the shoulder and he turned to face the old lord. “Ohacha,” Lord Kulimas said, “Tell your uncle that I’ve gone to investigate who the seller is. It must be someone from Belvaas’ inner circle. He can stay and talk to Patzau Hadashenta if that old bastard is near by. I want a damned good reason as to why this is a surprise to us.”

Ohacha sat, stunned as Lord Kulimas stood up and marched out of the auction hall. Only the announcing of a winner snapped him back to what was going on. His mind spun like a sphere on a rocking ship. Ohacha turned back to Aramuk, shocked. He grabbed his uncle by the sleave to get his attention but Aramuk spun with an anger in his eyes.

“Did we buy it?” Ohacha asked.

“Of course we didn’t buy the damned chair!”

“Why not!?” Ohacha demanded, shouting more than he meant to and slurring his worlds a little.

“You drunk fool” Aramuk scolded. “Quiet down. What use is a throne without a kingdom? Ultimately, it’s just a chair!”

“But–”

“Ohacha” Aramuk spat, “You are being incredible disrespectful interrupting me in my conversation with Patzau Yohati. Go downstairs and wait for me. You’re in no state of mind to be helpful right now!” Ohacha huffed and left without saying goodbye or thanks to Patzau Yohati or his family.

Two boxes adjacent, Patzau Yanata Ashill turned at the unusual commotion emanating from Yohati’s seats. The privacy curtains made it clear only where the disturbance was coming from, not what was happening. With her sat her daughters, Kida and Yuromi, as well as her longtime friend and Aginjigaade Elvi. She preferred to avoid these functions of peacocking nobility. Especially when there were flood damages still to clean up and repair. But The Ashills were old money and old power. This was a game for the young bloods to play at to establish the pecking order. It was all so beneath her. She was Patzau of the soldiers; the armies, navies, outposts, and fortresses. She had a city to protect. People to help.

But her daughters deserved some normalcy. Or, at least that had been the argument that Kida had made against staying away. She insisted it was important to have opportunities to connect with other influential families across the city. To know and understand the future generation. Those who will lead Caso in the future. Those who might help with funding and resources to clean up the damage and devastation. She found it hard to argue with that. And so, Yanata felt it would be best to go as a family, ordering Yuromi to attend as well. The girl had spent the entire event unwilling to participate in any of the social aspects of the occasion. She claimed it was poor taste to attend a gala while people suffered. Yanata couldn’t argue with that either and then had to resort to rank to maintain order. Then it had been a fight to keep Yuromi from arriving in military uniform. It was always a struggle, finding the balance between those two. It was hard to believe they were sisters, what with how different they were.

And so, as an argument of loud voices and curses filled Yohati’s box and disrupted the show, Yanata knew something was awry. And, being the one in charge of safety and security, she felt obliged to ensure things were alright and intervene as necessary. And with one daughter constantly fixated on helping people, ordering Yuromi to check out the situation seemed appropriate. Giving her a normal task would stop the silent rueful obedience.

Yuromi’s eyes lit up, while Kida frowned. Yomu, give me strength, Yanata thought.

“I’ll find out what’s going on” Yuromi said, hastening for the stairs. Yanata immediately regrated her choice, fearing for the fine dress that she knew was about to come back ruined. Kida stared at her mother with silent dissent. Yanata tried to ignore her other daughter. She didn’t have the patience to give the girl any more opportunities to complain about nothing. Yet, after an uncomfortable amount of time, she relented. “Fine, you can go too” she grumbled. Kida smiled with pride and chased her sister down the stairs

“I don’t understand you sometimes, Yanata.” Elvi said. “Those two know how to bring out the best and worst out of you.”

“But which one is which” Yanata asked, “I feel like I can’t tell sometimes, Elvi.”

Outside the theatre, Ohacha hit the bottom of the stairs leading into the foyer with an anger fueled urgency that lacked any source of direction. Thankfully, Cask, Gaba’ké and Rolena were already waiting for him in the lobby. Gaba’ké extended out a hand and Ohacha came to a stop in front of them.

Before giving anyone a chance to speak, Ohacha raised his voice in anger, “I want to know who the seller is. Only one of my uncle’s most trusted could bring an object that valuable here. Cask, I want Belvaas’ lacky found and taken care of.”

“Yes, my prince” Cask said.

“Wait, we need to be cautious!” Gaba’ké warned. He was thankful that nobody else was around to hear Ohacha’s words. “We can’t be hasty, here. Ohacha, if we’re behind a man’s death there could be big trouble for us; for you.”

“I don’t care!” Ohacha hissed.

“What if Cask catches and kills your man? What if its just some nobody from Cayanoshi and is then executed for the crime?” Gaba’ké demanded. “You would sacrifice Cask for one death and a throne? Be reasonable; find a smarter way. The risk isn’t worth that.” Ohacha scowled at the old Aginjigaade. He was angry. He was drunk and angry. But even drunk and angry the old man had a point.

“Gaba’ké’s advice is reasonable” Rolena added.

“I didn’t ask the hired muscle for advice” Ohacha spat. Rolena breathed deep and bore the insult.

“Don’t take it out of her!” Gaba’ké snapped. His voice commanded attention and Ohacha shrank a little. “Think through the situation one more time. We’re here to help you think things through. Once you’ve done that, then give the orders you think are right. We’ll carry them out as you see fit.”

Breathing in deep, Ohacha’s mix of emotions tumbled around his head. He had been so happy and now anger and fear filled every part of him. He wanted to strike out at something. “Rolena, go find Lord Kulimas. He should be speaking with the auction house staff. Speak to whoever you can on your way. See if you can learn who the seller is.” Rolena nodded sharply and disappeared into the crowd slowly flowing into the foyer.

As Rolena left, an unfamiliar woman appeared and replaced her. She wore a long dress that flowed from shoulder to ankles with a transparent blouse over her muscular shoulders. A black sash bisected the outfit and made her look taller than she was. Her dark brown hair was cut short to her neck, entirely opposite the trend of long hair seen elsewhere in Caso. Long intricately beaded earrings dangled to her shoulders and her eyes met Ohacha’s with a perceptive gaze. Most noticeably of all, her face boasted a long deep scar that ran prominently from her right eye down to her chin. Nothing she did was in effort to hide the long blemish. In fact, the opposite might have been true. She carried herself with confidence and the prominent scar on her cheek, a blemish another might look to hide, claimed its space on her face more as a badge of distinction rather than one of shame. 

“My name is Yuromi” the woman said, drawing close. “What seems to be the trouble?”

Ohacha didn’t want to deal with whoever this was right now. It wasn’t her business. He switched to Gaagian, knowing she wouldn’t understand and hoped she’d give up. “Cask, Gaba’ké, I want to talk to Hadashenta. He will know who the seller is. He can lead us to them.”

“I know Patzau Hadashenta” Yuromi said, offering to help. Ohacha cursed himself.

He wanted to shout at the girl; this doesn’t concern you! Instead, he said nothing and stared. A second girl appeared next to Yuromi, a mirrors image. She had the same dark brown hair but with the longer popular hairstyle. Unlike her twin, she stood slightly taller and lacked the prominent scar. She wore an emerald green blouse with a tight collar and a matching sarong skirt. Accents of gold woven through the fabric created feather-like patterns. Yuromi looked over her shoulder following Ohacha’s confused gaze.

“Pleased to meet you” the second twin said, “I am Kida Ashill, Patzau Ashill’s daughter and officer of the soldier’s guild. This is my twin sister.”

At the same moment, the grand double doors to the auction theatre swung open, releasing attendees back into the grand foyer. The group stood at the head of the wave of people. They were chattering happily, but went silent at the sight of Ohacha’s mask of anger and shame. Ohacha’s eyes darted around at the attendees, desperation in his heart. Where are you? He seethed. Yuromi immediately recognized the tension in his stance, the clenched fist. That he was looking for somebody.

“This is Prince Ohacha Krimas” Gaba’ké chimed in, speaking over the crowd. “I am Gaba’ké and this here is Cask, captain of the prince’s royal guard.”

“Captain now?” Cask asked. An elbow to the ribs shut him up.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance” Kida said with a smile. Yuromi rolled her eyes and Gaba’ké caught what he thought was a flash of contempt from Kida. She continued as if nothing had happened, “If you don’t mind, I’ve been tasked with better understanding the commotion upstairs. Is everything alright? Kida asked. Gaba’ké looked to Cask, and Cask back to Gaba’ké.

“Who are you looking for?” Yuromi asked, speaking past the two men directly to Ohacha.  

Ohacha turned to face her, “I need to find the seller of that last item in the auction. That throne belonged to my father. It belongs to me. To my family. The bastard that brought it here for sale is a thief and I want them brought to justice.”

“I’ll speak with the auction house staff about it” Yuromi said, finding an excuse to escape her sister.

“A thief? Oh, you pour thing” Kida said. She had a sweetness to her that Gaba’ké recognised as poisonous. “The disturbance was because somebody here is trying to sell your throne?” Kida asked. Her eyes blinked with innocence.

“Of course!” Ohacha said, raising his voice.

“I’ll do some inquiry as well” Kida said, having what she came for. “Let me go speak with my mother. Perhaps I forgot to mention it. She’s Patzau Minoc. Perhaps we can help resolve this issue.”

Kida’s promise seemed to mollify Ohacha’s stress. At least, until Patzau Yohati reappeared with Aramuk at his heels. Ohacha caught only the last words of their conversation but it was enough to rekindle the anger he was harbouring, “As far as I’m concerned, you have no claim to that throne. It was sent here with a direct signature from Belvaas Krimas II, Governor of Gaag, for sale. By our understanding of politics, you do not control Gaag and therefore have no right to intervene in this sale. And the throne has indeed been sold.”

“Please” Aramuk begged, “speak with Patzau Hadashenta with me.”

“I will do no such thing” Yohati barked. “You are guests here in this city but just because you were once princes, does not mean you wield princely powers.”

Ohacha’s anger flared. Aramuk’s eyes went wide as he spotted his nephew. “The men who came here to sell that throne are murderers, thieves, and traitors. It would be better to lock them up and try them like the criminals they are!”

Yohati stared with antipathy. Nobody spoke to any of the Patzau in this manner. Nobody gave orders to members of the council. Ohacha’s outburst was enough to attract the attention of noble men and ladies, who stared in morbid fascination. It was enough to draw forth a gigantic man from the crowd, who came and stood between Patzau Yohati and the young prince. Ohacha wasn’t particularly short, but even he had to stare up at the big man whose very presence threatened violence. He was clearly a soldier. The muscles of his arms and shoulders were trying to escape the fabrics of his fine clothing. The callouses and scars on his big hands confirmed it.

“Is there a problem here?” the man asked.

“Who the hell are you?” Ohacha barked. He was intimidated, but still angry enough to ignore his better judgement. “Did you sell that throne?” Ohacha asked. The words came out strong, but inwardly he was terrified of the answer.

“My name is Gal” the man said, doing his best to look intimidating. Or perhaps, that was just his default look. “And I think its best you understand, little princeling, that you can’t speak to our Patzau that way.”

Ohacha froze. No argument made could bypass the line drawn by the big man. Not without insulting all Patzau and alienating himself. It was losing position and even through rage, he recognized the trap. “I apologize” Ohacha said, changing tactics. “I never meant my words as insults or my tone to be critical of any of the Patzau. But that does not make my words untrue. The person who came to sell this item is a thief and a criminal. And I was taught that justice is a pillar that Casoyans hold to with fervor. Is this not true?”

“That is true” a new voice announced. All looked as Patzau Yanata Ashill entered with a proud looking Kida at her heels. “You must be Ohacha Krimas” Yanata said. Still just a pup. Patzau Ashill stepped forward and gave a look that said ‘I can handle this’ to the large man and he backed off, saluting. Ohacha realized his heart had been racing and his pulse hammered heavy at the veins in his neck. “You are correct,” Patzau Ashill continued, “that justice is important to us here in Caso. It is a key tenant of our way of life. But just because you see this sale as unjust, does not mean we do. Remember that not everyone out there sees the world in the same way you do.”

“Exactly” Patzau Yohati said in his gruff voice.

“But,” Yanata continued, “That does not mean your claim is baseless. I will ensure with Patzau Hadashenta’s staff that the paperwork provided is sufficient. If it meets the auction houses’ high standards, I must then insist that you acquiesce to our final decision. Do you accept?”

It was a warning as much as an offer of peace. One Ohacha knew he was best to heed. “Yes” he agreed. Patzau Ashill smiled but not with her eyes. She left with her daughter and the large soldier. Yohati seemed irritated but grumbled silently to his wife rather than aloud. The crowd dispersed, leaving Aramuk to hastily pull Ohacha aside.

“That was stupid” Aramuk hissed. “You cannot let your anger control you.”

“We need to find Belvaas’ man in the city!”

“You almost destroyed our reputation!”

“We need to strike back” Ohacha said, ignoring his uncle. “I’d bet anything Bartiin is in the city. We need to find and kill him. Cask—”

“No!” Aramuk growled. “We cannot be behind any deaths in this city. You ignore your own words; justice is supreme here in Caso. We will be hanged for it. That’s what Belvaas wants.

“You should listen to your uncle” Gaba’ké said. Ohacha shot him an angry look.

“What’s the hold up?” Yohati insisted. “Let’s get a move on. I want to get out of here. I’ve got things other business to attend to today.”

“Of course,” Aramuk said. “Where are Rolena and Lord Kulimas?” He urged, turning back.

“Lord Kulimas went to speak with the auction house staff” Ohacha recalled. “And then I sent Rolena to look for him. They should be around here somewhere.”

“What’s the hold up?” Patzau Yohati asked. The room was truly starting to empty and what little patience the old Patzau had was clearly waning. “I’ve got men waiting for us outside. If you want your entourage of soldiers like you begged for, we leave right now. If not, you can find your own way back. But don’t expect my gates to open with any urgency.”

“We go without them” Aramuk said. “They’ll have to find their way.”

Deep inside the auction house, Yuromi stomped off once again feeling frustrated. She had tried speaking with several auction house staff as promised, but was met with far more obstacles than expected. At first, the constant redirections were annoying. But after several of the same interactions, it became clear that she was being spun-around as a purposeful stall-tactic. One designed to frustrate her into giving up. Once she realized this fact, Yuromi’s stubbornness to stay and seek answers switched from an unimportant favour to a matter of principle. A defiance to their audacity. Who do these bastards think they are? She hadn’t even revealed her trump cards yet. The next fool who gave her the spiel would contend with her officer’s badge and the bastard who dared to rebuke that would face the fact that she was daughter to Patzau Ashill. It could have all been so simple. She didn’t want to have to do it, but if it meant getting a little respect, she would.

As she headed through the backstage, she caught a glimpse of something out of the ordinary. There, on the far side of a loading area filled with carts and workers packaging and carrying various objects sat four guild soldiers lounging by one of the exits. Two played dice while the other two watched enthusiastically. It wasn’t the soldiers that caught her eye, but the figure slinking behind them. Yuromi watched as the figure snatched two of the four military crossbows from where the soldiers had abandoned them against the wall, and left out the exit. It was brazen. And yet none of the soldiers seemed to notice.

All thoughts about the throne went out the window and Yuromi sprinted across the busy room. Workers stopped and stared as she shouted and she pushed them out of her way as she ran, cursing her slippery sandals the entire distance. Only when she was a dozen paces away did the soldiers look up from their gambling.

“Oi!” she shouted again. The four soldiers shared a mix of annoyed and confused as she approached. Spirits, she thought, and these idiots are supposed to be the ones protecting the auction house? What else did this thief get away with?

“What do you want?” the first soldier asked rather callously.

“Somebody just stole your crossbows, you moron!” Yuromi shouted, still running towards the doorway. He flashed a look of surprise and then checked behind him, indeed finding two of the four crossbows missing. Yuromi slammed into the door so hard it hurt her elbows. The door crashed open. Daylight blinding her. The soldiers followed her out into the street. She looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the thief. The soldier next to her seemed only capable of panicking. He already had his hands in his hair, muttering about how screwed he was. She was inclined to agree with him. Then, she caught a glimpse of what looked like the running into a distant alleyway.

“You,” Yuromi ordered, speaking to the panicked man, “go check with the auction house attendants to see if anything has been stolen. You three, come with me.”

Her orders were met with a jumble of arguments, “We have to stay here and guard the exit. Who are you to order us around? Who will guard this entrance?”

Yuromi cursed her mother for not letting her come in uniform. Things were always easier when she was in uniform. She’d heard a rip while sprinting across the backroom and her shoes were not made for running. Now she was going to have to chase down a thief in sandals. “I am sergeant Yuromi Ashill of patrol squad eight” she said. “We’re catching that thief or Patzau Hadashenta will have your balls spit roasting over an open flame.” She took off in pursuit, not waiting for assent. It wasn’t until she hit the alleyway that she realized she had neglected to find herself a weapon.