The crowd churned as people moved in panicked eddies. Ships cast off from their berths, leaving pallid faces behind. For others, the chaos was an opportunity. Sailor’s tossed cheap wares overboard into the harbour in exchange for those with the sudden will to leave and the coin to make it happen. People drew in crowds for the mere opportunity to be gouged by the slick merchants poised to make a quick profit.

Ahead, a wealthy family was escorted to their ship by armed guards. Desperate people followed in their wake and corralled them as they loaded boxes and valuables aboard a sleek sailing craft. The guards kept the rabble at bay with the implicit threat of violence. One man, fearful and desperate, pushed his way through. He knew the family. He had worked for them for years. The guards tried to hold him back. But when he slipped through, he found a sword in his gut. The crowd panicked, dispersing in terror. They left him there to bleed out beside the ship.

Everywhere Rolena looked, there was desperation. Families shepherded their children through the panicked crowd. The line of burning ships to the south had driven everyone in the city here to the north. There were far too many people. It was a nightmare. Unimaginable. As a veteran of two campaigns in Towiin, Rolena had seen war before. Even in her contract with Prince Ohacha, she had been a witness to difficult and upsetting moments. Nothing had prepared her for this.

Violence and death are inseparable from war. They are expected. But the savagery displayed by regular Casoyans against their own neighbours was far harder to stomach. Everywhere she looked, people seemed to be fighting themselves as much as trying to flee. A wagon blocked a narrow street to her right and a pair of men were beating the Wagoneer rather than helping him unblock the road. A thief snatched a bag from stranger. People ignored the bodies of those already trampled in the chaos. There were children among them. It made her sick.

She was forcefully reminded of her first time in a Casoyan prison. Finally freed after days without food or trial, she was escorted past the piles of bodies the Casoyans had created in the name of justice. Hundreds of dead, discarded like meat. She could only conclude the same disposition infected Casoyans at large. Not just the soldiery. It sent a shiver down her spine. An evil lurks in this place. Something concealed beneath the opulence.

Her desire to leave verged on desperate. Rolena wormed through the crowds, leading Yuromi to the prince’s ship, the Sweet Wind. She prayed the captain was still aboard. She hoped he was loyal enough to wait for them. They would need sailors too. Men to handle the oars and rigging. Experienced workers were going to be in short supply. A difficulty considering the overwhelming number of people trying to leave the city at once. The bay was already a mess of ships moving in every which direction.

A firm hand grabbed Rolena by the shoulder and tugged her around. She had to supress her instinct to fight back. Yuromi was the person attached to the outstretched hand. There was concern written across her scarred face. Inwardly, Rolena’s mood soured. “What?” she grumbled, but already knew the answer. Ohacha was missing. Cask was missing. Both men had been behind them, following, and now neither were visible among the crowd.

“Prince Ohacha and the swordsman!” Yuromi said.

“Where did they go?” Rolena asked. It came out more like an accusation.

If Yuromi detected the bitterness in Rolena’s voice, she didn’t let it show. “I don’t know” she said. “They were right behind me a minute ago.”

Rolena cursed under her breath. They had been travelling as a group and now she felt isolated. Not to mention, separated from the one person she was being paid to protect. If Ohacha dies in the crowd, I gain nothing from all of this time spent in this damned city. I’ll have nothing to bring home to my family. A year of my life wasted in the service of nothing. Rolena craned her neck, trying to get a better view over the crowd.

“What do we do?” Yuromi asked.

The hell if I know, Rolena thought. Yuromi looked to her expectantly. “We carry on,” she answered. It seemed the right thing to say. “To the ship. Whatever it is they’ve gotten themselves into, at the end they’ll head for the ship. Gaba’ké too.”

Rolena turned to leave and Yuromi took her hand, interlocking their fingers. There was an instant of shock, as Rolena processed the gesture. Oneran women never held hands in public, nor did Rolena particularly like Yuromi after everything she had endured here in Caso. This stranger had been the one to arrest her after the auction. It was her fault that Rolena had spent a week in that overcrowded prison. The place she had witnessed Casoyan brutality first hand. She had quietly tolerated her addition to the party, but wasn’t keen on being the rich soldier’s new best friend. But when Rolena turned to confront her about it, the worried look on Yuromi’s face too closely mirrored her own fears. And, she realized, linked together it would be harder for them to become separated in the crowd. There was something desperate in Yuromi’s face that said, ‘just this once‘ and Rolena couldn’t find a good reason to say no. So, she didn’t and they continued ahead, hand in hand. Yuromi followed close behind as the wove through the crowd, both women constantly sweeping the sea of faces to catch a glimpse of their missing companions.

They reached the pier where the Osiidani outrigger, the Sweet Wind, was still docked. The ship was smaller than most of the vessels alongside it and bobbed innocently amidst the chaos of the docks. The air here was thick with the stench of smoke and burnt tar and pitch wafting up from the south. A larger black-hulled xebec with Ohegan flags on it had teams of burly sailors untying ropes and preparing for immanent departure. Droves of desperate people shouted up at the sailors from below. One woman held an infant high over her head, desperate for someone pity her and save the child. Rolena and Yuromi squeezed by the group and scrambled aboard their own ship deck.

The captain appeared. He approached angrily and waved a rigging knife threateningly. He tried to shoo the two women off the boat, but wavered as he saw the sword on Yuromi’s hip. It was only when he saw Rolena with the crossbow on her back that he recognized her. He slurred his words mind rant and changed tune, desperate for answers.

“Miss Rolena, where are Prince Ohacha and the others?” he asked in slow-spoken Tralang. He had a heavy western accent.

“They’re on their way” she hoped. “We need to be ready to cast off.” The captain grunted in approval.

“What can I do to help?” Yuromi asked, looking awkwardly as the captain ordered his thin crew about the decks.

The larger xebec cast away from the docks. A desperate Casoyan jumped and clung onto the railing until a sailor above knocked him into the water with an oar. Rolena saw the woman who had been hoisting the child still held it above her head. The crowd around the xebec, still desperate, now flowed towards the suddenly awake deck of the Sweet Wind.

“You speak Casoyan. Keep these people off of the ship” Rolena ordered. “Tell them to wait. Ohacha can decide who comes aboard when he arrives.” When he arrives… If he arrives.

Yuromi nodded and went to deal with the growing and desperate crowd of people. They pleaded for passage; their meager belongings still clutched in their anxious hands. “How many can we take?” Yuromi asked.

“We’ll need folks who can row” Rolena said, knowing they had planned to hire rowers eventually. Past that, she wasn’t sure. “Ohacha will be here soon. We need to wait for him.”

“These people are desperate, Rolena!” Yuromi shouted back. “There are families; children here. We have to help these people! We have to save them!”

“We need to wait!” Rolena insisted, “this isn’t our ship and thus not our choice!”

“It’s for the greater good!” Yuromi argued.

“It does no greater good to anyone if we run out of food or water at sea. It does no greater good if we run aground over a reef because we sit too low in the water!” Rolena countered. “I know you want to help people” she said. “I do too, but we just need to be ready and patient!”

Rolena turned her attention back to the ship, following the captain’s orders and helping the crew as much as possible. Each time she could, she cast her gaze inland, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ohacha and Cask on their way. Instead, she saw Yuromi increasingly raising her voice to calm the crowd as it grew increasingly more and more agitated. The next time she peered over her shoulder a knot of dread formed in her stomach.

A well-dressed guildsman pushed two small children in front of him as his personal soldiers pushed their way though the crowd. The crowd, already on edge, balked at the burly soldiers and their brandished weapons. The nobleman paid them no heed as he squeezed his way through the crowd, righteousness written across his contemptuous face. He reached Yuromi and the two began talking. Rolena watched as the negotiations between the two soured fast, encouraging the man to bypass Yuromi as negotiator. The man spoke loud enough for all aboard the ship to hear him, ignoring Yuromi and the crowd behind him.

“I’ve got coin. How much for this ship?” he asked. “I have enough gold to buy it. Answer soon. I don’t have all day.”

Rolena turned to face the man and his eyes glazed over her, looking for somebody else. Whoever he believed to be in charge. Rolena walked over to speak to the man and he turned to face her, expectantly. She leaned over the gunnel to get close enough to hear the man clearly.

“Are you the owner?” he demanded. There was contempt in his voice.

“No” Rolena answered flatly. “But at the moment, the captain is busy and I rank next. If you want aboard, you’re going to have to get to the back of that line behind you.”

The man sneered as if insulted. “Want aboard? Line?” he gawked, “How much does your master want for this ship? I’ll buy it from him right now at double its value. If he needs a way out of the city, I’ll still bring him and the lot of you along until the next port.”

Rolena raised her eyebrows. “You want to buy this ship?” she repeated.

“That’s what I just said” the man jeered, “are you deaf, girl?”

“Ships not for sale” Rolena said flatly.

Rolena stood, intending to walk away. Instead, she froze. Shouts of commotion rose through the crowds. The crew aboard and crowd below followed her gaze westward. People peered over one another, fear churning into more fear, as a flotilla of black-hulled warships emblazoned with imperial yellow flags poured through the channel into the bay.

The ships, sleek and ominous, boasted massive boarding bridges capable of transporting soldiers directly from the fore-deck to shore without the need for docks. Lined atop the decks were scores and scores of soldiers. They brandished large circular shields with axes, swords, and spears. It was an invasion force. The one Rolena’s people had whispered fears over for the last half decade. The Imperial Careyago Navy sailed unobstructed into Caso.

A cold dread settled over all. But especially the crew of the Sweet Wind. They had been evading the Careyago for years. None aboard wished to tangle with the empire that had stolen their homeland. Rolena matched their quiet unease. This was her nightmare unfolding, the fear of losing her home to the Careyago like so many before her. “Spirits help us” she whispered.

But then something unexpected happened. The screams of panic and chaos were joined by a third distinct group of noises. Not fear, not panic, but expectant chanting rose from the people along the quays and docks, “The Careyago!” they chanted, “We’re saved” They cried out and applauded their invaders as heroes and liberators. To Yuromi’s credit, she seemed as shocked by the turn of the crowd as Rolena was. She too stared out over her people as they welcomed the incoming army as if were a blessing. Rolena’s attention shifted back to Yuromi beside her, who was muttering to herself.

“What was that?” Rolena asked, thinking Yuromi was speaking to her.

Yuromi didn’t turn to face her, unable to look away as the great black warships lowered their prows and the first wave of soldiers marched ashore. People roared their applause in response. Yuromi watched with a shattered expression. “So, this is it then…” she finally repeated, “we relinquish control at the first sign of hardship ‘cause it’s easier than fixing anything ourselves. This is the end of freedom and they herald it salvation.”

Cask stooped, resting Ohacha’s limp body against a black stone wall. He cast a glance about one last time to ensure they hadn’t been followed, then knelt over Ohacha. The boy breathed in ragged breaths and recoiled as Cask applied pressure to the still-bleeding wound at his side. He ripped off Ohacha’s torn shirt and did his best to wrap the wound to staunch the flow of blood. Ohacha groaned in pain. His eyes then lulled back and Cask smacked his prince lightly across the face to try and bring him back.

“Stay awake!” Cask ordered. He continued tightening the bandages and Ohacha moaned in pain. “You fool” he grumbled. “I can’t believe you went after Bartiin alone! What were you thinking?”

Ohacha didn’t respond. His head rolled awkwardly on his neck. He made a few sounds that felt like attempts at words but everything he hoped to say seemed to get stuck in his throat. He coughed and then reeled from the pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He hadn’t been thinking. That had been his undoing. The humiliation of the encounter was a sour in his mouth. He had lost. Then won.

“That should hold” Cask announced, standing again. He pulled Ohacha back to his feet despite the boy’s grunted protest. “We have to move,” Cask urged, trying to get Ohacha to stand on his own. “Now. Before we run into more trouble.”

The sounds of the riot seemed louder than they had before. It felt as if with each new breath, the intensity and panic surged closer like an incoming tide. Ohacha leaned heavily on Cask but managed to get his feel underneath him. Cask held his prince up and the two of them began the slow and, for Ohacha, painful walk back to the docks.

Cask used the Auction House to guide him. It was his beacon out of the maze of small streets and alleyways. From there, it was as straight shot to the bay. They turned one final corner and Cask breathed out the tension he had been feeling. His next breath felt lighter. Hope returned. His spirit regained some strength.

Turning that corner and seeing Ohacha weaponless and bleeding had been soul destroying. Cask knew that if he had arrived even a moment later, Ohacha would have been dead by Bartiin’s hand. The years he spent trying to protect the boy would have amounted to nothing. His dream of one day returning, a liberator for his people, would die. That same dream had barely endured Golan’s death all those years ago, and then Aramuk’s death only recently. Ohacha was his last hope. His last hold on the desperate dream of getting it all back. And, like a fool, the boy had very nearly thrown it all away.

Why Ohacha had chased after the man who was trying to kill him baffled Cask. He knew Bartiin’s strength and skill. Bartiin had been his pupil. The man was an accomplished swordsman and a great tactician. The very things Ohacha seemed intent on proving he was not. It was risky and reckless. And to leave us all behind without warning…. It was the first time Cask questioned his place at the boy’s side. He knew Ohacha wanted revenge. Cask shared the sentiment, but never did he expect Ohacha to make such a stupid decision at such an inopportune moment with no thought spared for the consequences. It left Cask feeling naive. Naïve and furious.

That fury was compounded by all the efforts Aramuk and Gaba’ké had taken to instill wisdom in him. Lessons that had just gone unheeded. And that fury led him to the realization that he too had loaded all his hopes on the young prince’s shoulders. They’d never spoken of it. None of them had. It had always been expected that Ohacha would burden their hopes and dreams. Ever since his father’s death. He was the heir. And for the first time, Cask contemplated the idea that Ohacha’s continued arrogance and rebellion weren’t solely failures of discipline, they were a mirror of his own flaws. In the same way that Ohacha’s self-righteousness was a mirror of Aramuk’s and his inability to escape a past that defined him was a mirror of Gaba’ké’s. The boy was them. All three of them. But mostly him.

Ohacha had always rejected Aramuk’s disposition. He had loved his uncle, but never did he want to be like Aramuk. He revered Gaba’ké, but more for his abilities and power than the deep wealth of wisdom that lay within. Cask comprehended for the first time that, in the absence of his father, he was the man that Ohacha emulated most. Ohacha’s mindset was a reflection of Cask’s own. The realization was soul-crushing. It came as a blend of pride and shame.

Cask hadn’t just ignored Ohacha’s flaws, he had cultivated them. He had condoned skipping lessons and retaliating against authorities. He had encouraged the belief that rules were secondary to his will. That conflict is binary. That being right is a justification for aggression and confrontation. He had desired Ohacha to become a man of strength and courage, and had inadvertently nurtured that irresponsible recklessness.

He had demanded a man’s resolve from a boy who shared his scars but none of his experience or maturity. While they had lost much the same, Ohacha lacked the independence and self-awareness required to weather all that crushing guilt and responsibility. The rage and the disappointment. The burden of dreams. And in that hard and arduous trek back to the Sweet Wind, Cask vowed that vengeance would never come to define the man Ohacha would one day become. It was his place to discover the type of man he wished to be.

Amidst the crowd, Rolena finally spotted the morbid looking swordsman carrying a haggard-looking prince. Ohacha was pale. There was pain across his face and blood smeared across his skin. He walked with an awkward gate, one hand over Cask’s shoulder and the other hand clenched tight against his left side. Cask fought his way through the madness.

Rolena shouted to them. They couldn’t hear her. Yuromi noticed and joined in. But when she saw their sorry state, she leapt over the side of the ship and pushed her way through the pleading crowd. She reached them and added her own strength to theirs, leading the pair back to the ship.

“Clear the way!” she roared, pushing through the crowd.

She ignored the fuming nobleman and his retinue of guards. The mass of people continued shouting their pleas to come board. Rolena met them at the gunnel and helped pull Ohacha aboard from above. Pleading hands and desperate faces followed them aboard.

“What happened?” Rolena asked, looking expectantly to Cask.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared out across the bay where the dozens of Careyago warships had made land to their south. He watched as hundreds of Careyago Soldiers advanced into the city. Even from here, it was clear that the crowd of rioters and rebels was being quickly subdued and dispersed by the fresher, better equipped, and seasoned army. Rolena had to shout again to get his attention. Cask whipped around to face her, his face still ghostly pale.

“What happened to Ohacha?” she repeated, now bent over the boy and taking a quick look at the wound at his side. He was barely conscious. The wound didn’t appear to be bleeding any longer, but long streaks soaked his side and pants. Yuromi listened in intently.

“We ran into Bartiin” Cask said, not wishing to elaborate. They needn’t know the details now.

Rolena frowned, not happy with that answer, but knowing she wouldn’t get any more information now. “Have you seen Gaba’ké or Kuta?” she asked, changing subjects. “The sooner they return, the sooner we can leave.”

“No” Cask answered plainly. “Nor will we see them again.”

“What do you mean?” Rolena asked sternly. “Are they dead?”

“I don’t know,” Cask replied after a moment, “I doubt it. But with the Careyago here, they can’t come with us anymore…. We need to leave. Gaba’ké will understand. He’ll take Kuta somewhere safe to get away from the Careyago.”

“What do you mean they can’t come with us?” Yuromi grilled. She looked mortified. Cask tried to dodge the question but Yuromi was insistent, pinning him to the side of the ship. “What do you mean?” she insisted.

Cask let out a tired sigh, “The Careyago Army always includes a retinue of Aginjigaade” Cask explained. “Trained fighters, defenders, killers, and trackers. Men and women accustomed to facing other Aginjigaade and protecting their troops in battle. They’ll try to catch every Aginjigaade in the city. They’ll be able to sense him if he comes with us. They might even recognize him. It’ll doom the rest of us if he returns.”

“You don’t know that!” Yuromi countered. “I won’t leave Kuta behind.”

“I do know that!” Cask roared back. “Gaba’ké knows it too. He won’t return. He won’t let Kuta return. It would risk our safety; Ohacha’s safety. As long as the Careyago are within range, they’ll able to track him. There’s no sense waiting any longer. We go. Now.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” Rolena demanded. It felt like a betrayal. To leave Gaba’ké behind to fend for himself against an army. It felt cruel. She wished Ohacha were conscious so that he could protest with her. She felt helpless. Yuromi matched her disapproval. But neither outranked Cask.

“Yes, I’m sure” the swordsman said dismissively. “Are we ready to cast off?” he asked.

Out across the bay, other captains had come to the same decision. Fleeing the city and the grand warships became a priority to many. Those still docked when the Careyago took the city would not be granted the same freedom of choice.

“I’ve spoke with the captain, and we’re short by eight rowers” Rolena said. “We’ve got enough water aboard to last us comfortably to any of the neighboring ports, but we won’t have enough food to sail anywhere further than Gitum or Jurang if we ration. We’ll need to make a stop.”

“We should go to Cabiya” Yuromi interjected. “Theres a large enough port where we can let off anyone who doesn’t want to go west and resupply.”

“Cabiya’s to the east, on the other side of the island” Cask countered. “We need to go west. The small group of soldiers still loyal to Ohacha are in Juking” Cask replied. Assuming they’ll still be there. And assuming they’ll remain loyal to Ohacha without his uncle. But those are tomorrow’s worries.

“We can argue about the destination once we have some people aboard” Rolena cut in. “Yuromi, pick some men you think capable of rowing. After that, we cast off.”

Those selected came aboard with families and meager belongings. Among them was the wealthy nobleman who had expected to buy the boat. Rolena disapproved but said nothing. Those left behind looked elsewhere, leaving only desperate hopefuls on the docks.

A grim resolve settled over the crew. The last mooring lines were thrown and the ship was pushed slowly into the bay. The oars were dropped and the Sweet Wind began to pull away from the shore, leaving behind forsaken faces. Rolena watched in despair those same faces become too small to distinguish.

Rolena watched the dock shrink behind them. She expected Gaba’ké or Kuta to appear, betrayed and deserted. Instead, it wasn’t long before Careyago soldiers reached their dock. Cask was right, she thought, Gaba’ké and Kuta wouldn’t have made it.

Behind the Sweet Wind, the sounds of the chaos and chanting ebbed away, leaving only the towering plumes of smoke and the distinct black warships and their golden flags of conquest. Caso, once a jewel of trade, industry, and commerce, burned. Fitting, Rolena eulogized, Imperial gold would come, in the end, to claim the city with which it shared a name. It was a sight, she knew, that would haunt her for the rest of her days.