Ohacha watched his uncle’s body burn. It had been a small funeral. Quiet and within the compounds of the Yohati estate. Reah and Fera Yohati made the arrangements for the pyre. They even went so far as to procure pine and herbs for the smoke. Outside of Ohacha, Cask, and Gaba’ké, the two women, mother and daughter, were the only other attendees. It was far too small a funeral for such a great man. Ohacha cried the entire way through the procession. Aramuk had been his last surviving family member left. And the way Fera and Reah honoured him spoke volumes to their kindness and generosity.

After the funeral, Ohacha returned to his room. Even after all these weeks, its was an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar city. There was nowhere that felt like home. Nowhere where he could derive comfort from being. He sat inside the room in the corner, small and insignificant. Tears came.

He wept for his uncle. He wept for his cousin Ander and even for Rolena. They had been his only friends and now they were gone too. He wept for his mother and father who had abandoned him. He even wept for the families who had been purged during his uncle’s insurrection. Men like Lord Guharo who led a forsaken army of soldiers after losing his wife to the Careyago purge. For Lord Kulimas who lost two sons to Belvaas’ madness. He wept for the thousands who had fled the city for refuge only to learn there would be no return home. For the hundred or so remaining soldiers who, Ohacha realized, will only soon be arriving in Juking after weeks at sea. They’ll be there waiting for Aramuk, who will never come to lead them home to glory. He wept for his hopes and dreams, which died with them all. 

It rained again that night. Ohacha lay in bed long into the night, listening to the soft patter of raindrops against his window. He could still smell the smoke and herbs that lingered on his clothes. Death and comfort all rolled up into one strange aroma. He lay, thinking about Lord Kulimas and Rolena, neither of whom yet returned. He prayed for their safety but felt in his heart that he would never see either again. The old lord had been a force of gentle kindness. Always the most devout and loyal proponent to their cause. He would miss the man’s calm and caring attitude.

Rolena was very different. She was fierce. A warrior. She encompassed competence and stability. She never compromised her optimism or hope. It had been that unwillingness to give up that had saved Aramuk’s life just a month earlier in Onera. It was that same unwillingness that made her a terrible gambler. A smile cracked through for the briefest of moments but was crushed under the weight of loss. They were gone. To do what Aramuk had set out to do, remove the Careyago from Gaag, now felt impossible. Perhaps, under smarter, stronger, and better leadership but now… with Ohacha alone at the helm?

There can be no substitution for uncle Aramuk, Ohacha lamented. For his political connections and his wisdom. I lack his steady hand. No more do I have Lord Kulimas’ whispers of dealings back in Gaag. I have lost Ander’s spirit and ingenuity. I lack Rolena’s tactical perspective and tenacity. I lack my father’s leadership and charisma. I lack my mother’s cleverness. I am… lacking. Just a disappointing fragment of each and every person taken from me. A hollow echo. Without them, what is left? What chance do Cask and Gaba’ké and I have?

The early morning light poured through the window casting a bright glow throughout the room. Ohacha awoke still slumped in the corner. He stirred and stretched. Pain radiated from his back and neck. He rose, and moved towards the window, closing the blinds and plunging the room into darkness again. Walking over to his bed, he removed his clothes from the day before and slumped into the bed. A knock rapped on the door but he ignored it. It sounded again but nobody tried to force entry. The door was locked anyway. He didn’t want to see anyone. Not today.

“Ohacha” a voice said from the other side of the door.

Ohacha grabbed the pillow and placed it over his face. Leave me alone, he thought. If I ignore them, they’ll leave me alone.

“Ohacha” the voice repeated, louder this time. “Wake up”

Please go away. Please go away.  

The knock came louder this time. Gaba’ké’s voice came through, louder and clearer this time. “Ohacha!” Gaba’ké repeated, loudly this time. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important. Come out into the garden.”

Ohacha remained silent. I just want to stay here in bed. He lay there, not thinking about anything in particular, until sleep came for him once again. A knock sounded on the door again, stirring him from his slumber.

“Ohacha” a voice said, “It’s me, Cask. Wake up!”

“Go away” Ohacha mumbled.

“Good” Cask said, “Now that you’re up, freshen up and come downstairs.”

“No” Ohacha groaned.

“Its midday Ohacha, you can’t stay up here forever.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Ohacha… please come downstairs. Gaba’ké wasn’t trying to deceive you. This is important.”

“What’s so important?” Ohacha groaned.

Cask sighed audibly. “I didn’t want to tell you here, but its about Lord Kulimas.”

Ohacha sat up, “Lord Kulimas is back?”

“They found his body. He’s in the garden” Cask said. “Please come down.”

Ohacha dragged himself out to the garden. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to follow the stone flagstones away from the guesthouse. The small sheltered patio was a place for eating meals inside the lush garden. It was surrounded by beautiful beds of flowers beneath fruit trees. Ohacha recognized it as the place where he and Gaba’ké had spoken after dinner with the Yohati’s. Above, old trees loomed overhead with long strings of leaves hanging down like tassels. In the center of the space, seated in a chair sat both Gaba’ké and Cask. The two men looked up as he approached. Atop the stone slab of a table in the center lay the body of Lord Kulimas. He stared at the old lord, pale and ghostly.

“Ohacha” Gaba’ké said standing, “This is Sergeant Yuromi Ashill. Yuromi, this is crown prince Ohacha Krimas.”

Ohacha turned. Indeed, another person sat at the table. He hadn’t noticed her. She sat off to the side, but it was obvious that Cask and Gaba’ké had been speaking in earnest with her. Ohacha looked at her, puzzled by her presence. She was a soldier and wore a set of Casoyan weave armour. Her helm rested on the table next to Lord Kulimas’ cold body. It was her face that stopped him in his tracks. It was familiar. He knew her. It was the long ugly scar from eye to chin under her right eye. She had introduced herself briefly at the Auction House. She looked remarkably different in a dress.

She appeared comfortable, even familiar with the inside of Yohati’s estate. She has been here before, he surmised. Between her casual comfort and her attendance at the Auction House’ highest gala, it was clear that despite her low rank, the girl was important. Or, at least well connected. He scrutinized for confirmation and found it. She wore luxurious beaded earrings that hung softly to her neck. Her armour was intricately cross-stitched and was adorned with polished silver fasteners instead of the bronze or copper fasteners found on Yohati’s soldiers’ uniforms. The clothes she wore beneath the armour were made of a fine woven cotton and instead of woven flax. The seams were neat and tidy. Ashill, Ohacha repeated to himself, daughter of Patzau Ashill.

“Good morning, Yuromi” Ohacha said, clearly not meaning it.” He had a quizzical look on his face. “We have met before, have we not?” he asked. “I think I would recognize your scar anywhere.”

“Please, I am here on Guild business. In Casoya, it is customary to address one another by title when discussing business. Please address me as Sergeant Ashill” she said. “And, you are correct, we spoke briefly at the Auction House. You were looking for someone and I left you with my sister, Kida.” The was she said her sister’s name made it clear they didn’t get along well. “You were telling her about how the throne at the auction was a stolen item.”

“Ah, yes, that…” Ohacha said awkwardly. He had forgotten about the throne. More than that, he didn’t want to be here speaking to her about it. His sourness came through in his tone as he tried to change topic, “please call me Prince Ohacha” he added with a hint of mockery. She frowned slightly and it made him feel good. “You two—you and your sister—you look very similar, are you–”

“Yes” she interrupted. “We are twins.”

“Which one of you is older?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Which one of you was born first?” he repeated. “It’s not a hard question.”

Condescending little shit, she thought, taken aback. Yuromi spoke up, “I wasn’t asking about the difficulty of the question, little prince; I was merely trying to understand why this matters.”

Ohacha frowned at her contempt. “Of course it matters,” he continued, “else I wouldn’t have asked. But I think you’ve already answered the question for me without meaning to.”

“Is that so?” she asked.

“The elder sibling would have told me they were older without hesitation; therefore, you must be the younger twin. You have a bit of that younger, ‘too much to prove’ attitude too. Am I right?” He wanted to hurt her; make her go away so he could leave. He wanted to be alone.

She looked at Cask and Gaba’ké. Both still sat at the table, embarrassed. Neither had been combative during their earlier conversation. You’re one to talk. Clearly respect and sensibility is lost on princes who have been pampered their whole lives. She recognized the discomfort in the way they sat. Neither would meet her gaze now. She scoffed once and Ohacha smirked with arrogance.

“Sergeant Ashill,” Gaba’ké said, attempting to change the topic, “is an officer with the guild. Her mother is–”

“Yes” Ohacha said, cutting in. “Her mother is Patzau Ashill. I am well aware. So, what brings you here to see us today, Yuromi.”

She scowled at him now. “I’m the one who found you vassal” she said, gesturing to the man on the table. “Your men were telling me that he was a lord in your service” she added. “You don’t seem especially grateful.”

“And if that’s all you’ve come for then you’ve made me regret leaving my room” Ohacha said dismissively.

Yuromi’s rage boiled over. “What the hell is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?!” She shouted as she rose from her seat.

“I am Crown Prince Ohacha Krimas of Gaag!” He shouted back. He wasn’t ready for her to stand up to him, but now he felt the need to double-down.

“And does that title grant you the right to be a fucking asshole?” she seethed. immediately regretting letting her emotions slip. Screw it, too late now, she thought. “Is this how you treat guests in your home? Is this how shit-eating princes of Gaag behave? Is this how you grieve your dead?” she challenged. Ohacha recoiled, shocked by her vulgar words as much as the truth behind them. He had been goading her of course, but he hadn’t truly believed she would bite back. She continued, unrelenting, “is this how you honour your uncle? Are you such a spoiled brat that you can’t recognize kindness when it is given?”

“And what form of Casoyan kindness have you come to share?” Ohacha seethed back. He felt all the bitterness welling up from within. “We have been left here for days without so much as a word as to what is happening. I’ve survived another assassination attempt. This is my fourth this year. But each time, these bastards murder my friends, my family, my soldiers. And what have you or your Patzaus done about it? Nothing!” he shouted. “No communication, no support, no condolences. Your guilds orate endlessly about honour and justice. Is that what you call this? Our soldiers are slain in the very streets you are tasked with keeping safe. An army of thieves and killers is loosed upon us within your walls. My family fortune is gone, pilfered, with no word about its recovery. And you think bringing me back one of the dozens dead is a kindness? It is the bare minimum. I should ask you the very same question, is this how Caso treats its guests?”

A tense silence hung in the air. Long seconds passed as Yuromi stared daggers at the belligerent prince. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and snorted it out in a huff. “I understand that you’re upset, and that you’ve lost someone–”

“Of course I’m upset!” Ohacha interrupted.

Yuromi continued speaking, louder, “…that you’ve lost someone—let me finish—and that you feel angry about the speed and manner in which this is all being handled. But, taking your anger out on me does little to remedy your situation, especially considering I am the only person who has come to bring you information and share condolences. You ask for a representative from the guild, and here I am. If I’m not to your liking, you can go on and continue waiting. So far, I appear to be your only option.”

She let those words hang between them as the prince appeared to calm down. Spirits, is this what my mother had to deal with? He huffed but remained silent. The two other men remained petrified in their seats.

“And…” Yuromi continued, punctuating the word, “I want it known that if you choose to continue berating me, I’m simply going to walk away. And then all the things you just complained about like getting information, being heard, getting justice; they won’t happen. And I’ll go out of my way to ensure they continue not happening, just to spite you. And I have that kind of influence. “Are we understand each other?” She wasn’t really sure if she did or not, but it seemed like the right bluff.

“Yes” he said through a scowl.

“Good” she said. Fucking prick. She took her seat again, and gestured for Ohacha to do so as well. He complied in a cowed manner, taking a seat at the table next to Gaba’ké and across from her and Cask. “Now it seems our conversation started off on the wrong foot. Lets start again” Yuromi said matter-of-factly. “Perhaps I should have started with, my name is Sergeant Ashill and I have your friend Rolena.”

“What?” Ohacha said, astonished. He stared at her blankly for entirely too long.

“You have Rolena?” Gaba’ké asked cautiously.

“She’s under the care of one of my lieutenants.” Another bend in truth. “And I would be kind enough to return her to you, if you would be kind enough to answer some of my questions.” Yuromi said turning back to Ohacha.

Gaba’ké and Cask looked pleadingly at him and Ohacha knew she had him by the balls. “Fine” Ohacha relented, annoyed. This time she smiled politely, knowing it would cut deeper than any smirk. Gaba’ké looked back and forth between the two youths. Spirits help us, he thought with a wry inward snicker, they’re the exact same damned stubborn person.

“First question, apologize.” Yuromi said, leaning back casually in her chair.

“That’s not a question” Ohacha said flatly.

“Oh, my mistake, I thought you wanted your friend back–”

“Fine!” Ohacha groaned, irritated. The innocent look on her face pissed him off even more. He chewed on his cheek in frustration. He stomached it. For Rolena. “Fine” Ohacha repeated, “I am sorry for the way I treated you. Please accept my humble apology for my behaviour.”

“Hmm” she said, stewing over his apology. “I’m not sure I heard the conviction in your words. Take a moment if you need and think about how you would feel if our roles were switched and I came in all riled.” She gestured for him to try again.

“You can’t be serious?” he grumbled. He bit through his cheek and the metallic taste of blood splashed across his tongue. She maintained her innocent smile, batting her eyelashes as skillfully as she might the sword at her side.

“Spirits” Ohacha muttered under his breath. And then, to his own surprise, found himself actually considering her perspective. After a long sigh and a tense pause, he tried again, “I am deeply sorry for my behaviour. I was disrespectful. My words were unbecoming of me… and worse they were intended as weapons to hurt you. You neither deserved my frustration nor my anger, and it was both unfair and unkind for me to treat you, as our guest and as a person, in this manner. For that I offer my sincere apology.” She raised her eyebrows, and he added “Sergeant Ashill.”

Cask let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. Spirits, that actually sounded genuine.

“Please,” Yuromi said with a malicious twisted smile, “you can call me Yuromi.”

Ohacha closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, doing everything in his power not to shout at her again. A conflicted turmoil of emotions warred for control of his spirit. Inside him, anger clashed with sorrow and pain and the wry humour of it all. The resulting reaction was a laugh that held within a piece of all those feelings. And once he started laughing, it became difficult to stop. By the end, he wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. But what he felt was relief. It felt almost as if he had been holding his breath for a long time and only now took his next one.

Ohacha opened his eyes and wiped away the stray tears that had welled in his eyes and run down his cheeks. He looked up at her, expecting her to think him crazed. Instead, her face mirrored his. She had tears in her eyes and a softness not present prior. She has lost someone too. He could tell from her demeanor. She reminded him of Ander and despite the bitter feeling he had for his cousin, she reminded him of the younger Belvaas too. Back when they were children and teased one another, only to forgive and move on the next moment. Before they were made into enemies.

“I know its still early, but I think wine is in order” Cask said with a masking smile. “I’ll fetch us a bottle and some cups.”

“I’ll give you a hand” Gaba’ké said, rising from his chair.

Ohacha and Yuromi watched the pair leave towards the house then sat in silence. That silence lingered until Ohacha found the confidence to ask the question he had been chewing on, “Who was it you lost?”

“My dad” Yuromi answered. “When he died, I acted much the same way you were just now. Actually, I was probably much worse; terribly cruel to my mother and sister, as if they hadn’t also just lost a husband, a father. I spoke with your men before you came down. They warned me that you’d be…”

“An asshole?” Ohacha said, finishing the sentence.

“In pain” Yuromi corrected. “Hollow. I didn’t think I’d have to face myself.” Karma.

Ohacha found himself feeling uncomfortable. He had thought of a response, but hadn’t had the courage in the moment to say it aloud. Now, as the silence stretched between them, it only felt more and more difficult to respond. And what could he say, “sorry for your loss?”. Instead, he asked, “How long ago did your father die?”

“Three years past” she responded. “No… four. Spirits. You know, sometimes, I think about him as if he’s still around. I’ll argue with my sister and think ‘Dad can help me get her to understand,’ and then I get sad when I realize he’s gone. He can’t help me anymore.”

“How did he die? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t really understand it still, but one day he was fine and two weeks later he was vomiting and losing colour. He complained of swelling and stomach pains along with the shakes and then he just didn’t wake up the next morning. I… we didn’t even take him to see a healer. He said he was fine and I believed him.”

Gaba’ké and Cask returned with the wine and poured drinks for the table. Cask toasted the sad group, “All living things must die. It is a detriment to a good life that a person thinks so far ahead as to fear its end, or so far back as to yearn for the past. Live with intention. Create a legacy. Each person we remember with this cup, already lived and created that legacy by which we remember them by” Cask said, looking at each one of them as he raised his glass.

“To those who have left us” Gaba’ké added, “May we forever remember their wisdom and character and let them guide us forward through life despite their absence from it.” He raised his glass.

Yuromi spoke next, raising her glass in accord, “May we cultivate strength from the principles the dead once championed in life. And may we find the inner peace they have now found in death.”

All three looked at Ohacha expectantly. He spoke the first thing that came to mind, “May those gone look upon us with forgiveness when we make mistakes…” gesturing to Yuromi, “optimism as we face life’s challenges…” he added, looking towards Gaba’ké “and pride when we are victorious.” He raised his cup towards Cask in final salute. The four of them drank.

“Now” Yuromi said, breaking the silence that followed. “I still have my questions…”

“Alright” Ohacha said, “Ask and I’ll answer as best I can.” He meant it, despite the weariness inside. That piece of him that wanted to sink underwater and never resurface. It felt… less intrusive now.

“After our conversation after the auction, I went backstage to ask some questions. While there, I saw an unknown figure steal a crossbow and flee out a backdoor. That person, the thief, was Yoliim Kulimas” Yuromi said, gesturing to the dead lord atop the cold table. “Your friend, Rolena, also saw Lord Kulimas take off into the streets. She followed him, while I followed her.”

“Wait, Lord Kulimas stole a crossbow?” Ohacha asked, surprised. “Why?”

“He used it to attack a group of men. Men, I gather, were also at the auction house. Foreigners.” Yuromi added. “Witnesses attest that he instigated the fight, firing on the other men. He killed one, before being killed in turn by the others. I want to know who these men were and why he did it.”

“How should we know?” Ohacha asked confused. “This sounds so unlike him.”

“I think,” Gaba’ké ventured, “there is only one person who Yoliim Kulimas would go out of his way to take revenge on. Only one person, he would sacrifice his own life to try and kill.”

“Bartiin?” Cask asked, surprised. “You think he saw Bartiin? Do you think he killed him?”

“Who is Bartiin?” Yuromi asked.

“You said it yourself” Gaba’ké answered. “A foreigner like us. But more precisely, he’s the man we know has been tasked by the Careyago with killing Prince Aramuk and Prince Ohacha. He’s been hunting us since that night we fled the royal palace back in Gaag all those years ago.”

“He’s a traitorous bastard” Ohacha growled. “I’d wage anything that he was the one that organized the attack against us that killed my uncle.” Yuromi gave a look that suggested she had a different theory.

“To clarify, he’s from Gaag but acts as a military officer of the Careyago?”

“My other uncle, Belvaas Krimas the elder, rules Gaag as governor under the Careyago” Ohacha explained. “Bartiin was the traitorous military mind behind the coup that made us flee our home. Since then, Bartiin has acted as the hand of the governor in all things… unpleasant.”

“Then your lord Kulimas attacked Bartiin, hoping to remove the threat against you?” Yuromi asked.

“That would be the main reason” Gaba’ké answered. “Lord Kulimas was a great warrior as a younger man. Bartiin’s betrayal resulted in the death of his youngest son, and just recently his eldest. I expect there was vengeance in his heart in tandem with his hope to spare Ohacha a similar fate.”

“The five survivors fled south to the docks after killing your lord,” Yuromi explained. “By the time I reached them, they had surrendered to our soldiers. They claimed they only killed in self-defense. That did little to calm the mob of witnesses. What they say may be true, but their brutality…”

“Wait!” Ohacha chimed in, “They were arrested? Meaning they’re still inside the city?” Ohacha asked.

“So much happened all at once” Yuromi said. “I lost track of where they are exactly, but I know they were arrested. But so many people have been arrested since that night. Our prisons are overflowing. There were riots and crackdowns. The guild has been occupied with restoring order. I haven’t heard or seen them since.”

“People are upset about what happened to us?” Ohacha asked. “About the violence in the streets.”

Yuromi chewed on her lip, as if thinking about how best to explain. “I’m not sure how else to say this, so I’ll be blunt. Patzau Yohati’s version of the story differs from yours. He claims that he was the target of the killers and assassins. That they were motivated by his efforts to crackdown on gang related crime and violence. Most of Caso believes this version of events and there is a crackdown campaign being waged in retaliation.”

Ohacha stared, blank faced, “How is that even possible? How could they claim the attacks were meant to kill Yohati when he wasn’t even targeted? My uncle was the one killed. My fortune was the one stolen.”

“Yohati’s story is that he switched carts with you and your uncle to lead the column home. He was supposed to be seated where your uncle was. That the arrows that killed Aramuk were meant for him.”

“That is true, we did switch carts. But the rest doesn’t make any sense” Cask reflected. “We were travelling in daylight, out in the open.”

“After Aramuk took that first arrow, the next ones were aimed at Ohacha” Gaba’ké added.

“Not to mention Patzau Yohati was surrounded by his elite guards in their heavy armour. No competent assassin would make that kind of mistake” Cask added.

“Accounts of what happened after are… chaotic” Yuromi clarified. “All I know for certain is that Yohati used his position and influence to order soldiers to raid gang-controlled territories in Mudtown in retaliation. In the aftermath, hundreds are dead; including several dozen soldiers. The city is in uproar, demanding justice. There have been scores of arrests. Men and women are being tossed into cells to face prosecution.” She stopped herself before she said to much. She almost told them about the rumours that Yohati’s judges were ordered to fast-track trials to execute criminals en masse as a warning.

“He’s coopted the tragedy” Gaba’ké murmured.

“Probably” Yuromi agreed. “He took control of the soldier’s guild to act immediately against those responsible; assuming my mother’s powers; power’s he’s not supposed to have. The complication is that he’s done so with overwhelming public support. Its created a political schism. Patzau Minoc is leading a counter-coalition, arguing that Yohati has overstepped and that his trials are illegitimate. Meanwhile, riots have broken out both inside and outside the walls, fueled by claims that innocents are being taken in equal numbers to the guilty. All that is to say, I’ve lost your man Bartiin in the chaos. He could be anywhere in the system.”

“Then we can only hope Bartiin sees one of Yohati’s corrupt judges” Ohacha said. “That would be justice.” Yuromi gave him a look that suggested she didn’t condone his view.

“When might they see a judge?” Gaba’ké asked.

“I have no way of knowing” Yuromi answered. “It could be in an hour; it could be in a month.”

“Why do people believe these trails are corrupt?” Ohacha asked. “Wouldn’t all those arrested claim innocence? If they’ve been arrested, it would suggest there was a reason. It sounds to me like the message it sends is just as important: ‘If you send murderers into our city, we will destroy you’.”

“Who cares if the trials are corrupt” Cask spat. “Bartiin and his men have paid hundreds of killers and assassins. All sorts of people, from professional killers to beggars on the street. Each and every one deserves the death they received. These gang members and criminals are no different.”

“I disagree, Cask” Gaba’ké said. “I won’t argue that the justice dispensed as a result of these trials isn’t important, but I must contest that the quality of these trials matters. When justice is anything but just, it becomes a tool for violence. And when justice is a tool, it stops being a means to protect people and instead becomes a weapon to harm one’s enemies, ignorant to their criminality or lack thereof.”

What you say may be true” Ohacha argued, “but justice and law are not the same. Justice is built upon one’s views on morality. Law is the justice agreed upon by those with power to enforce it.”

“But the end result is the same” Cask countered. “Those who commit wicked deeds are punished.”

“But its not the same” Yuromi argued. “Innocent people need to be sorted out from amongst the guilty. And Gaba’ké’s argument is that laws must have safeguards, like transparency and fairness, to prevent against abuse. Without these safeguards, abuse is possible.” Yuromi said.

“Abuse is clearly possible even with these safeguards” Cask refuted. “You said yourself that Patzau Yohati took control of a guild he’s not meant to control, and now proceeds over trials you claim as illegitimate. As Ohacha stated, if Yohati has broken a law without consequence or punishment, then it is no law. It’s a suggestion.”

“He should be punished” Yuromi insisted.

“I didn’t say he shouldn’t be,” Cask contested, “I question if he will be.” She sat in silence at that, mulling over his words. “This is why,” he continued, “I hold little regard for laws as a standard for morality. Every day, we live on the other side of another man’s laws.”

Gaba’ké spoke up, “I can agree with some of what you say, Cask. But it’s not fair to challenge her ideals over Yohati’s disregard for them. All men believe themselves just. Therefore, it will fall to the other seven Patzau to determine whether or not Yohati is to be punished for his actions, and what that punishment might be.”

“The implication is that there will be no punishment” Ohacha stated.

“There are always consequences” Gaba’ké muttered. “Just because you can’t see them, or recognise them, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. It would be wise to keep that in mind, in all facets.”

“Yuromi” Ohacha said, changing topics, “you said that Rolena was innocent, correct? Would you be willing to help us get her back? We would pay for your time…” he ventured.

“No need” Yuromi answered. “I’ll make an effort to help get your friend released. I’ll also see if I can learn more about what has happened to Bartiin” she said. “Something doesn’t feel right about all of this. I want to figure out what and why.” She stood and collected her helm from the table. “If Bartiin lives, I’ll see if you can be brought to his trial as witnesses to his crimes. Perhaps, then, you’ll see some justice after all.”

“Why help us?” After all that?”

“That’s what my guild was built for,” she answered, “helping people.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Ashill” Ohacha said. “And… again, I am very sorry for my behaviour. I-”

“There’s no need” she replied. “It was a good apology. Maybe the best I’ve ever gotten. I’ve already forgiven you.”