The streets had gone quiet. The activity that once teemed through the streets was as lifeless as Ohacha’s future hopes. The prince sat by his window and watched the few nervous bodies below. It was calm. The sort of calm felt when two swordsmen squared off, like Cask and the Assassin. There was a tension; the future hanging in the balance. Casoyans no longer wandered the streets or milled about. The streetside eateries were vacant. People came but didn’t linger.
The whole city felt apprehensive with the exception of one place; Yohati’s estate. The Patzau himself wasn’t the culprit. Despite repeated quick sightings, Patzau Yohati was evidently busy. At least, that was the excuse his staffers repeated each time Ohacha tried to meet with the old Patzau—ever avoiding to comment on when he might be back. For the first few days, Ohacha had believed them. Now he knew better. But it was Yohati’s socialite daughter at the center of the odd jubilance within the grounds. She had found the time to organize some sort of social gala. A significant number of young and affluent people were arriving in droves to mingle amongst other high-ranking officials from the various guilds. Ohacha could hear their merriment from across the gardens. People had been arriving all day to unload crates of food and fancy decorations and Yohati’s staff unloaded it all while whispering stories of missing friends and homes destroyed. Like seeing a cyclone out of the left eye and a rainbow out of the right.
By Rolena’s reckoning, the small army of labourers clogging the gates was the only reason she’d managed to get a word in with Yohati’s guards to be admitted. Without them, they might have turned her away in an instant by stench alone. Instead, Gaba’ké was fetched and he returned with a gaunt and haggard looking Rolena. Ohacha saw them coming from his window and rushed downstairs to greet her. Sergeant Ashill had followed through on her promise.
Ohacha’s face lit up as she lurched into the guesthouse. She smiled softly, but not with her eyes. She was thin and her cheeks were sunken. Her face and hands were caked with dirt and grime and she looked terribly frail. Her long hair, usually clean and braided, was unkept and knotted. Ohacha stood awkwardly, not sure what to say. Until Yuromi’s visit, he had thought her dead. Another soul consumed by his family’s feud. Now, here she stood. Despite himself, his title, and the smell of death that clung to her, he swept forward and embraced her. Cask and Gaba’ké wrapped them both up in one large embrace.
After a long shower, a good meal, and some much-needed rest, they swapped stories. Ohacha spoke of his uncle’s death openly for the first time. He told her about the stolen fortune, the soldiers slaughtered, the visit from Sergeant Ashill, and Yohati’s evasiveness. Rolena described her own version of events, starting at the auction house and following through Lord Kulimas’ attack against Bartiin. Then her arrest by Yuromi and the devolving nightmare that was her imprisonment. She told them of the terrifying Aginjigaade that had come and interrogated Bartiin’s soldiers and revealed that Bartiin had escaped.
She couldn’t bring herself to describe the violence inside the cells or the lingering stench of feces and death. How the soldiers were either overwhelmed and neglectful or vindictively abusive. How the numbers inside the cells never dwindled as new bodies replaced the corpses that were hauled out and discarded. Telling them would make it real.
She finished her tale with her release—how when the soldiers came and hauled her from the cell, “I thought it was finally my turn for the executioner’s block. Instead, they hauled me out into the open air. Even with the scent of singed flesh, the air was fresher than I could have dreamed. Crows encircled the walls, waiting to feed on the massive smouldering pyres. The muddy yard was slick with blood.” Rolena paused, wiping away tears. “They marched me across the yard and dumped me out onto the street with nothing. I was starving and sleepless. It took me all morning just to find my way back.”
Ohacha’s grip tightened on his armrest. Cruelty. Savagery. With each new horrific detail, the illusion of Caso’s opulence rotted away. And it was all his fault. It had all been his grand idea. The auction house, the drinking, waiting around for the throne. Now, they had less than what they started with, and Uncle Aramuk was dead. The urge to change the past hurt like a physical ache. He wanted to stop himself from ever going to the auction. He wanted to talk his parents out of sailing for Gaag. He wanted to drag Provis, Ander, and Aramuk back from their early graves. Instead, he just sat there, hollowed out and directionless. It was infuriating.
Its not fair! How dare he treat us this way. Ohacha stewed, his anger churning until it reached a crescendo unlike any before. His rage boiled over. Ohacha stood abruptly and marched out of the room. He marched out of the room, ignoring the questions and calls from his friends and mentors. In moments, he was headed straight down the laneway towards Patzau Yohati’s mansion. He passed the an unimpressed-looking Fera on his way but didn’t even spare her a glace. This rage was not for her. As Ohacha marched up to the landing, one of Patzau Yohati’s guards approached.
Ohacha’s frown deepened; he had anticipated obstacles, but now faced with a real person, he felt incapable of simply throwing a punch and rushing past. Instead, he handed the soldier his sword and marched straight through the door, raising a hand to command silence when the young man protested. The guard, unsure how to react, tailed him with sword in hand and tried to speak reason. Ohacha ignored the fool, emboldened by his single-minded mission. Servants appeared and followed the small commotion. Eyes followed his every step as Ohacha marched up to Yohati’s third-floor office.
A pair of distracted city-soldiers lounging outside the office doors watched in dismay as Ohacha bustled past them and burst through the double-doors into Patzau Yohati’s office. The house staff froze, wide-eyed, while the two embarrassed soldiers bounded in after him.
Burrenal Yohati, Patzau of the Casoyan Guild of Affairs, sat at his desk on the far side of the room. Across from him on the right sat the largest, meanest looking soldier Ohacha had ever laid eyes on. He knew it to be true as he had laid eyes on the man prior. He was the mean brute at the Auction House—the one that had defended Patzau Yohati. On the brute’s left sat Yohati’s Aginjigaade, Janos Tydana. All three men turned at the intrusion. Patzau Yohati maintained his composure, despite the unexpected interruption, while the other two were taken aback.
Ohacha had ruminated over what he might say to the moment he barged into Patzau Yohati’s office. He had imagined the moment numerous times. The old man would be reading or scribbling down some notes and he would look up in shame and face him, man to man. He hadn’t once considered that the old Patzau mightn’t be alone. Ohacha’s brazen overconfidence evaporated. He stood awkwardly as everyone stared with stern gazes. The two soldiers caught up and grabbed him by the wrist but Ohacha shook them off as he approached the desk. A pungent perfume hit his nose and he ignored the tingle it left. He stared straight at Patzau Yohati, ignoring the other two men.
Patzau Yohati looked down and then back up again. Then he spoke calmly as if the sudden intrusion was expected. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, the young prince and I require the room.” The three men rose from their seats. Yohati walked Janos and the brute to the door and Yohati’s guests maintained baleful looks at him as they left. The two door guards followed them out and muffled shouts followed the closing of the door. “Now, what can I do for you, Prince Krimas?”
“I am done being held at bay with empty words. Since the day Aramuk was murdered, you’ve avoided us and I am finished with it. Your city is full of rumours and arrests, yet my compatriots and I are left entirely in the dark. I know you made arrests. I know you caught Bartiin Foxstring and let him slip through your fingers. I want to know what is being done to recover our assets. Your indifference is an insult. I demand justice.”
“Is that all?” Yohati asked, his face stoic.
“What do you mean is that all?”
Yohati returned to his seat and leaned back in his chair, chin high. “Let me be the first to speak honestly with you, little princeling. You are correct. You don’t matter. The recovery of your stolen fortune is not my priority, nor is it this city’s priority. I am saddened by your uncle’s death, but without him I have no further interest in you.” Ohacha stood stunned on the other side of Yohati’s desk. He had expected a diplomatic answer. He had expected anger or placating words. Not this. Not blunt truths. “I was going to ignore you a while longer—let you lick your wounds but now you’ve forced my hand. A week should be more than generous, considering the circumstances” Patzau Yohati continued, “Pack your meager belongings and vacate my estate.”
“What?” Ohacha stammered. “Are you serious?”
“You are the very least of my problems. I bare you no ill will, but I scarcely cared for your late uncle. You imagine yourself important, but you’re not. There are a dozen families in Caso wealthier and more influential than the kings of Gaag ever were. You’re a minnow thinking it deserves the respect of a shark. If we do recover your stolen coin, I’ll ensure you see it returned but I wouldn’t keep my hopes up. It’s likely spread across a hundred gambling dens. Now shoo.”
Ohacha stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him. He descended the stairs under the wary gazes of guards and servants. None dared bar his path. Reclaiming his sword at the ground floor, he burst out the front door, his mind reeling in furious disbelief. The brazenness of that depraved old bastard! Yohati’s words replayed like a taunt. The mastermind behind Aramuk’s death had been right within the guild’s grasp, and their incompetence had let him slip away with my family fortune—stolen on streets they claimed were the safest in the world.
Heaviest of all was the knowledge that he had ruined everything, again. Ohacha now had to stomach Yohati’s absolute disdain. The man sat at the pinnacle of Casoyan influence, and Ohacha had just made him an enemy—an enemy who was evicting them. As the reality of what was said and done sunk in, Ohacha paled. Gaba’ké, Cask, and Rolena have to know. I have to tell them. He dreaded the moment. How could I have been so stupid? Ohacha had always known a life with few allies, but on the shameful walk back to the guesthouse, he had never felt so utterly alone.
*
Captain Burm watched with nervous irritation as the princeling barged out of the room. He had been thoroughly startled when the boy had burst into the study. It was an embarrassment that made him look weak, and looking weak made him angry. As the boy retreated down the stairs, Burm cast another spiteful glare onto Capu and Seer. Despite their lineage, they were strong capable warriors. Burm only wished the two idiots were capable of common sense. Letting Ohacha slip past was a catastrophic blunder. They withered under his gaze.
He’s going to kill us, Burm thought. If we lose our pay for their incompetence, I swear by the spirits of fire and vengeance the bastards will rue the day. Once again, Burm regretted trusting anyone other than Rozi; she might not be the strongest fighter, but at least she was reliable.
The doors opened again and Yohati summoned him and Janos back inside. Burm inhaled slowly, ready to face Yohati’s ire. His nose tickled uncomfortably and he wiped a hand across his face for relief. The boy must have seen the fortune. It was right there. But when Burm looked at Yohati’s desk, it was clear. Not a single coin remained where the stack had once been.
“Gal” Yohati said, commanding his attention. “Please sit”
“Uh, yes Patzau” Captain Burm huffed, reclaiming his chair. He stared at absent pile. A wave of confusion rocked him. Where? The boy wasn’t carrying anything, was he? Then, right before his eyes the stacks of coins reappeared. Burm blinked, uncomprehending, and then saw Janos’ wicked smile.
“An illusion,” Patzau Yohati explained sternly, “and a damned good one. I thought the prince was going to sniff us out.”
“If Janos weren’t here with us,” Yohati continued, “we would have been forced to sit here and smile as that bratty little prince walked out the door with his whole damned fortune. Are your soldiers outside my door imbeciles or just fucking incompetent?” Yohati seethed from the other side of his wooden desk. “How could they let the boy past them while we’re sitting here divvying up his very fortune… I should have the two of them drowned in the canals for their ineptitude.”
“We dock their pay” Burm suggested diplomatically. “This mistake should cost them.”
“No” Yohati snapped. “All of it. They get nothing. That will teach them a lesson.”
Shit, Burm thought, I’ll have a mutiny on my hands if they get nothing for this. “Patzau, I must ask for leniency. These men, they haven’t slept. They’ve been with the hit squads in Mudtown during the day and then working to bring you the fortune each night. They can’t get nothing. Not after their loyalty. I will handle a different punishment in excess of yours.”
Yohati made to argue but Janos chimed in, “You can both get what you want. Yohati, you pay these men nothing; drive home the consequences for their fuck-up. But, at the same time, you pay Captain Burm here a bonus out of what these men would have been paid. You, Captain, generously gift your men some of ‘your pay’ out of the very sweet goodness of your heart. Burm gets to appear the strong and loyal captain, Yohati’s punishment is clear and impactful, and the idiots are still paid enough to keep them happy and, more importantly, quiet.”
Burm mulled over the suggestion. Its good. Patzau Yohati seemed to share the sentiment and nodded his approval. Janos Tydana smiled innocently. Now that’s a smile I can’t trust, Burm thought. Even a smile from Janos was a cunning calculation. He’s a killer, Burm reckoned. That much is obvious. As an Aginjigaade, the only question remained was whom.
*
Unable to bear returning home, Ohacha ignored his better judgement and slipped through the gates out onto the cobbled streets. For the first time in his life, Ohacha walked alone. No Cask. No Gaba’ké. No Rolena. No soldiers. Without bodyguards, he hardly warranted a look from others. His mind was a wash of emotions and he found himself bouncing between bouts of anger, misery, frustration, and melancholy. He passed under the auction house with its towering domed roof. He hardly spared it a glace. He was looking for The Sweet Wind but got lost along the way and gave up.
Defeated, he sat on the end of a stony jetty and stared out across the water. The waves lapped softly like the ocean’s heartbeat. Ships sailed in every direction. Ohacha could make out the tiny figures of far-off sailors as they hoisted, climbed, and rowed. Seabirds circled specific ships, identifying the fishing boats. They appeared to hover as they rode the sea breeze before diving head-first in daring plunges. He sat and watched and wished for a simpler life. He wished to be one of those sailors, or fishers perhaps. He imagined living their lives. Working each day without fear. Earning a living and returning home at the end of a day to spend times with unbroken families. He longed for that figment. Another life, one without the pain and heartache. It took him along time to notice he wasn’t alone anymore. The sun was already setting. The last light of the day touching only the high-looming fortress on the rocky peninsula to the south.
“How do you keep finding me?” Ohacha asked, not turning around.
“You don’t exactly blend in” Yuromi Ashill said. “What are you doing here? Where is Cask?” she asked, concerned. He didn’t answer. “What about your Aginjigaade, the old fellow, what was his name?”
“Gaba’ké”
“Yes. Where is Gaba’ké? What are you doing out here?!”
“Looking at the sea”
“Why?” Yuromi asked, not understanding.
“Why not?” Ohacha answered, but it didn’t feel like enough. “Because I wanted to” he added. “Its pretty.” The sun was starting to set between the fortress atop headland cliffs and the long sandy islands that sheltered the bay.
“I recognise that look” Yuromi said, stepping forward and taking a seat beside him. She removed her helmet and set it down next to her. The two of them sat only a few paces apart but he didn’t even glance at her as she sat beside him. Following his gaze, she too stared out across the bay. “You’re feeling hopeless. Beaten. Overwhelmed.”
“And how would you know how I feel?” Ohacha asked calmly
Yuromi turned to look at him. Ohacha felt her gaze on him and despite his best efforts not to, he turned to face her. “You had that same look the day I came to visit you at Yohati’s estate. You’re angry. Feeling defeated.” Whatever thoughts he had in that moment, he wasn’t sharing them, so Yuromi tried a different tactic, “I wasn’t born with this scar” she said. “I’ve had my own share of failures.” He didn’t respond, but at least he glanced at her. Yuromi sighed and looked back out over the sea. She ran a finger down the long scar under her eye, “I told you my father died…” Ohacha nodded. “When he died, I didn’t handle it well. I was miserable and turned to fighting against my sister, but mostly my mother. Then one day, we got into a heated argument and I left in a huff. I was angry and hurting, and in turn I wanted to hurt somebody else. I was mad and picked a fight. I lost that fight.”
“Who did you fight?” Ohacha asked.
“I have no idea,” she answered, “and ultimately it doesn’t matter. I got angry and I stopped thinking. It took a long time to recover some sense of my self. My worth. My purpose.”
“And what turned it around for you?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ohacha repeated.
“Nothing will ever happen to you that changes the way you act and feel. Change comes from within. It’s was a personal choice. I decided I didn’t want to be miserable any more. I was the one making myself unhappy. I was the one acting out of fear and rage. I mean, it took two broken fingers, a cracked rib, and me almost losing an eye for me to understand that it was my own fault. It took almost a year for the cut across my face to heal right. It was all so stupid, kind of like abandoning your bodyguards to sit and watch the sea when there are killers out there who want you dead.”
“I’ve decided that I no longer care” Ohacha responded. He tossed a pebble into the ocean. “I’m tried of living a sad sheltered life, so afraid of the world as to barely exist within it. Today was the first time I’ve ever walked anywhere alone. Never have I strayed more than two hundred paces from those closest to me. Never have I been able to escape from my sad sheltered life. Some things ought to be worth the risk.”
Yuromi tilted her head slightly, considering his words. “I can understand that feeling,” she said quietly. “The desire to take back control, to be a part of the world around you. But this kind of freedom is only an illusion. Putting yourself in danger, simply because you can, isn’t wise.”
Ohacha frowned, “True,” he admitted, “but sitting here, staring out at the water, still might be the best choice I’ve ever made for myself. I’m tired of being led around, protected, controlled. All my life, other people have had opinions for what I should do, who I should be. But what if I don’t want any of it?”
“You think I don’t know what that’s like?” Yuromi reasoned. “I’ve lived my whole life under the shadow of expectations. My father was a hero. My sister is the perfect little officer. My mother is one of the eight. We inherit more than looks from our parents. We inherit their responsibilities and expectations – their hopes and dreams.”
Ohacha exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “And what if I don’t want to be king? What if I don’t want to go to war over a kingdom I barely remember. What if I just want to disappear, to live quietly, away from all of this chaos?”
“You can” Yuromi suggested. “Your uncle is dead. Its sad, but it also means that you’re the only one left in control. Those men love you. I could see in their eyes that if you led them down that path, they would follow and respect your choice. That swordsman and that Aginjigaade, you have their loyalty. They speak highly of you.” Yuromi answered, her eyes softening. “You can do whatever you feel is right, but running away doesn’t make your problems disappear.”
“Leaving now is akin to admitting defeat. It would be an insult to those who died along the way, giving everything and more to our dream of returning home.” Ohacha said. “Their sacrifices would amount to nothing. We came here to fund our future, whatever that may be. Instead, we’re devastated and destitute.
Yuromi’s eyes snapped open. The coins. Burm’s elite squad recovered the fortune. “Ohacha,” she said, her voice raised with sudden excitement. “Go to the fortress tomorrow. Ask to see my mother and…” She paused, the realization catching in her throat. If she told him why, she’d have to expose the rot hiding within her own guild’s walls. She couldn’t lay that bare to an outsider. “Actually… never mind the details. Just go see Patzau Ashill tomorrow. If you can’t find her, ask for Elvi Batari. They’ll both be up in the central tower.”
“Why?” he asked, brow furrowing. “What’s in the fortress?”
“Just trust me,” she said, leaning in. “It’ll be worth the trip.”
“Alright. I will.” And for some reason, he did trust her.
The last sliver of sunlight vanished and the deep blue of night began its earnest chase across the sky in pursuit. “Thank you for releasing Rolena. She’s a bit rattled, but I think she’ll be okay.” He hesitated before saying what was really on his mind, “She shared her experience in the prison… what your guild is doing to people behind those walls.”
Yuromi leaned back contemplative. “I’ve heard little whispers myself,” she admitted, “thinking about my own role in all of this. I reckon that means they’re true.” She let out a hard sigh. “Somebody is trying very hard to keep it quiet and it won’t work forever. The word will spread. People are angry. ‘Anger is often the path to self-destruction.’” she quoted.
“Who said that?” Ohacha asked.
“My father” Yuromi said. Ohacha gave her a look. “The irony isn’t lost on me, what with this” she added, gesturing to her scar. “You should go home, Ohacha. Your people will be worried about you.”
“Ah yes, home” Ohacha said, looking over at her. “That’s why I’m here actually. Patzau Yohati has given us a week to relocate. I’ve been thinking and I was hoping an apartment, rather than an inn, would be preferrable. Something private. It would only need fit four.” Four, he thought. Just four of us left. We were thousands, once.
“What do you mean? Yohati is kicking you out?” Yuromi asked.
“I believe his exact words were, ‘without your uncle, you don’t matter.’”
“That can’t be right” Yuromi said. “You must have misheard him.”
“I did not. He was quite clear on the matter.”
“But he’s so kind.”
“Perhaps to you. But the moment my uncle died, whatever deal they had died with him.”
“Aren’t you being a bit unfair?” Yuromi asked, “He’s dealing with a lot right now. There are surges in violence. There’s political unrest. These are trying times to be a leader.”
Trying times to be a leader. “Yet he lives like a king and lets his daughter throw lavish galas for the city’s elite in his private gardens while said people suffer. I may be an outsider, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes and ears. You Casoyans put a lot of blind faith in your leaders.”
“It’s easier to have faith when we, the people, select those who lead us” Yuromi countered. “There are no kings in Caso.”
Ohacha let out a bark of a laugh. “No kings? There are eight kings in Caso. Each hoarding their own slice of the city. Seven rulers you will never cast a vote for. Even within the guilds, scores of wealthy bankers wield the same power as the thousands of labourers. And then there’s your undesirables: the guildless. Pushed out of sight and given nothing. Bodies to be used for labour and fear, then discarded. Don’t act out or you’ll become one of them. Look what they’re capable of. Let it justify our violence and neglect.”
Yuromi frowned. “I think you’ve gone cynical. You’ve been burned one too many times and refuse to see the good people are trying to do. Unlike you, I’ve been out there beyond the walls. I’ve seen the corruption and violence first hand. Exploitation. Bribery. Theft. Territorial rivalries. Innocent people are the ones caught in the middle and it’s gone on far too long. I think he wants to make a difference. To improve lives.”
“Both what you say and what I have said can be true at the same time” Ohacha countered.
“Perhaps, but I choose to believe that its all for the greater good.”
“Even the parties?”
That gave her pause. It wasn’t a counter to her argument. Simply an observation. Ohacha smiled a sad smile and looked back across the bay. “My uncle used to say, ‘everyone makes the best decisions based on the information they have.’ I’ve recently learned that incentives and intent are more influential forces. People will ignore inconvenient truths. I may be the worst offender.”
“Returning to your original request, I’ll ask around” Yuromi said. “There’s bound to be a suitable place for you to stay. But, remember what I suggested earlier, go and find my mother or her Aginjigaade, Elvi Batari. One of the higher-ups. It’ll be worth it.”
“I will” he said. “Good night, Sergeant Ashill. Thank you for the conversation.” “Be safe, Ohacha Krimas.”
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