Ohacha watched his uncle’s body burn. It had been a small funeral. Quiet and within the compounds of the Yohati estate. Reah Yohati made the arrangements for the pyre. She even went so far as to procure needles and herbs for the smoke, as was the custom in Gaag. Outside of Ohacha, Cask, and Gaba’ké, the two women—mother and daughter—were the only other attendees. The way that Reah honoured him spoke volumes to her kindness and generosity. And Fera was there too. As much as Ohacha didn’t like her, that counted for something. Patzau Yohati did not make an appearance. Apparently, it was too unimportant a funeral for such an important man. Ohacha stood stone-faced through the entire procession.
After the funeral, Ohacha secluded himself in his room. Once alone and isolated, he let himself unravel. Aramuk is dead. Ander is dead. Lord Kulimas and Rolena are both missing and likely dead. Lord Provis is dead. My mother is dead. My father is dead. Ohacha knew a precious few people. And of those few, too many were already ghosts. He wept for the hopes and dreams that died with them.
It poured rain again that night. Ohacha lay in bed long into the darkness, listening to the hard patter of raindrops against the roof tiles and his window. He could still smell the pine 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. About what might have happened to them. He feared he might not ever 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 something… different. She was fierce. A warrior. She was competence and stability. She never compromised her optimism or hope. It had been that unwillingness to give up that had saved Aramuk’s life 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 is no replacing Uncle Aramuk’s steady hand, or Lord Kulimas’ whispers from Gaag Ohacha lamented. I have lost Ander’s ingenuity, Rolena’s tactics, and the charisma of my parents. I am a disappointing fragment of everyone taken from me. A hollow echo. Without them, what chance do 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. “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 still, letting his mind empty into oblivion. The knock sounded on the door again, stirring him.
“Ohacha” a new 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?”
“The Casoyans found his body. He’s in the garden” Cask said. “Please come down.”
Ohacha dragged himself down the stairs. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to go. The small sheltered patio was a place for eating meals inside the lush garden. It was surrounded by beautiful beds of flowers beneath branching fruit trees. He recognized it as the place where Gaba’ké had spoken to him after dinner with the Yohati’s. In the center of the space, seated in a chair sat both Gaba’ké and Cask. The two men glanced over as he approached. Atop the stone slab of a table in the center lay 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 the two men had been speaking with her. Ohacha looked at the stranger, 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. He recognized the long ugly scar from eye to chin under her right eye. She had introduced herself briefly at the Auction House.
She appeared comfortable, even familiar with the inside of Yohati’s estate. 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 finer dyed colour 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 your 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, “then 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.”
Her eyes furrowed. Clearly his barb had her 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?!”
“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. He wanted somebody to hurt as much as he did.
“And does that title grant you the right to be an asshole?” she seethed. “You’re as much a prince as I am.” Yuromi immediately regretted letting her emotions slip again. Spirits, I tied so hard too. 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 believed she would bite back. She continued, unrelenting, “is this how you honour your uncle? By being a spoiled brat who 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 abandoned here without so much as a word from the outside. We’ve survived another assassination attempt. This is my fourth this season. But each time, these bastards murder my family, my friends, my men. And what have you or your Patzaus done about it? Nothing!” he shouted. “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 of 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 leave. 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. “Do we understand each other?”
“Yes” he said through a scowl.
“Good” she said through a stare that could freeze water. 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. Let’s start again” Yuromi said matter-of-factly. “Perhaps I should have started with, my name is Sergeant Ashill and I have Rolena. She’s under the care of one of my lieutenants. 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–”
“Okay!” 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. “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.
“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 portion 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 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.”
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” Cask said, looking at each one of them as he raised his glass.
Yuromi added to the toast, 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.” They drank.
“Now” Yuromi said, breaking the silence that followed. “I still have my questions…”
“Ask and I’ll answer as best I can.” Ohacha said. 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 at the auction, I went backstage to ask some questions. Instead, I witnessed a thief steal a pair of crossbows and flee out the backdoor. My thief turned out to be 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. “What for?”
“He used them to attack a group of foreigners. Men, I gather, who were also at the auction house.” Yuromi added. “He killed one man, before being killed in turn by the others. I want to know who these men were and why he did it.” Ohacha seemed puzzled. Her account seemed nothing like the Lord Kulimas he knew.
“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.
Gaba’ké answered. “He’s the man the Careyago tasked with killing Ohacha and Aramuk.”
“He’s a traitorous bastard” Ohacha growled. “I’d wager anything that he organized the attack that killed my uncle.” Yuromi gave a look that suggested she had a different theory.
“To clarify, is he from Gaag or is he Careyago?” Yuromi asked.
“He’s from Gaag” Ohacha explained. “He betrayed us and joined the Careyago.”
“Did you order Lord Kulimas to assassinate this man, Bartiin?”
Ohacha seemed taken aback. “I wish. Did he do it? Did he get Bartiin?”
“What Ohacha means to say is no” Gaba’ké answered with a glare at his prince. “We did not instruct Lord Kulimas to do any such thing. Lord Kulimas has his own reasons to seek Bartiin of Gaag. His two sons were both murdered by Bartiin’s betrayals. His eldest only a few short weeks ago.”
“What happened to Bartiin?” Cask asked.
“After killing your vassal, the remaining soldiers fled. They were caught and arrested but claimed that they only killed in self-defence. There would normally be a trial, but things are a little chaotic right now. I don’t know where they are anymore. Presumably, in one of the prisons.”
“Why are things chaotic?” Gaba’ké asked. “What else has happened?”
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 events differs from yours. He claims that he was the intended assassination target, not Aramuk. That the attack was motivated by his efforts to crackdown on gang-related crime and violence. Most of Caso believes this version of events and there have been violent clashes out in Mudtown 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. We know Bartiin was in the city”
“We don’t know that for certain. 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 died. That the arrows that killed Aramuk were meant for him.”
“That first part 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. It was clear who was in each seat.”
“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. “Yohati used his influence to direct soldiers into Mudtown. The situation got messy fast. Hundreds are dead including several dozen soldiers. There have been scores of arrests. Men and women are being tossed into cells to face prosecution. The city is in uproar, demanding justice, but nobody can agree what justice looks like.”
“He’s co-opted the tragedy” Gaba’ké murmured.
“Probably” Yuromi agreed. “Yohati claims these were ‘emergency measures.’ The complication is that he has overwhelming public support. It’s created a political schism. Meanwhile, riots have broken out, fueled by claims that innocents were killed and arrested in the chaos. Our prisons are overflowing. There were riots and crackdowns. The guild has been occupied with restoring order. All that is to say, I’ve lost your man Bartiin in the chaos. He could be anywhere in the system.”
“What happened to Rolena” Ohacha asked. “You said she was there.”
“She was arrested alongside Bartiin. I… I didn’t know what to do with her at the time. She was an unknown. I’ll make an effort to find her get her released. It’s the least I can do for her.”
“Why help us?” Ohacha asked. “After how I treated you, why?”
“I didn’t become a soldier to swing a sword or stab a spear. I joined to help people. That’s what my guild was created for. I think, sometimes, people lose sight of that.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Ashill” Ohacha said. “And… again, I am very sorry for my behaviour. I–” “There’s no need” she interrupted. “It was a good apology. Maybe the best I’ve ever received. I wish mine had been half as decent.”
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