Sunset of the Wandering Souls

Innin and Arshaka were having a rather heated discussion, quieting down when Pili and I walked to the table. I couldn’t look Innin in the eye, my face feeling furiously warm in what I could only place as embarrassment, maybe even shame. Innin asked me if I still felt unwell. I shook my head, knowing that the conversation Pili and I shared was something only for us. I couldn’t tell Innin as an explanation as to why my face looked the way it was. I sat next to Innin, grabbing at my wet shirt under the table or picking at my fingernails, anything to keep me from looking up.

Arshaka had spoken, but my mind was elsewhere. Innin nudged me to answer him, and my face could have only reddened. Arshaka laughed, raspy, as if he wasn’t used to doing so. I looked up at him, trying not to look at Innin out of the corner of my eye. Sandy brown hair hung by his shoulders, a part of it pulled back leaving a bit of fringe by his slit-like blue eyes. It still started me that the whites of his eyes were black. His nose seemed nonexistent, and patches of scales covered his body in odd parts. “What’s eating you up inside, Crown Prince?” His thin tongue flicked out of his mouth. I shook my head once more, drops of water falling every which way. “Youth shouldn’t bring one too many worries.” He leaned his elbows on the table, unbothered by my actions. “I’ve talked with your retainer, but I hope you see reason, at least.”

I looked down at the water dripping onto my hands, trying to find the voice I had only moments ago with Pili. “I…” I screwed my eyes shut, took a breath. I was to be king, I was to speak to crowds bigger than Arshaka’s; being weak willed in front of three people wasn’t something a king should be. “I don’t want a war…if it can be avoided.”

“No one wants a war.” There was a hint of a hiss under each of Arshaka’s calm words. His eyes darted around the room, tongue flicking every so often. “Diatessia cannot be reasoned with. Rebel leaders won’t roll over and give their spoils back to the rightful owners because they were asked to nicely. They know the laws, they know the only way to be defeated is due to a war.”

“Why are the laws so anti-diplomacy?” I asked, finding more of that courage I knew I lacked.

“They’re…complicated due to the Great Conflict.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Innin start to open his mouth. Arshaka held up a finger, silencing him before he could even get a word out. “Diplomacy was never something Jakeki was excelled in.” Pili was the one who asked what or who Jakeki was. “The country to the east, past the Planes, over the ocean,” Arshaka answered. “They came hundreds of years ago, to settle the Great Conflict, to set up their own little colony of Zinosoc.”

I kept riding that courage, wanting to keep the high for as long as I could. I didn’t know when it’d come again, nor when it’d go. “They’re the ones who’re forcing us to war?” I felt my hands fold into fists before I noticed. “Why do they get a say in our affairs?”

“Because” Arshaka seemed to hiss, “before they came we were nothing. Warrior tribes with nothing to show for it but infighting. Then some Reissu king decided to start a war with the Qriacin.”

“Arshaka,” Innin said as if in scolding. I shushed him, page upon page of Reissu history I had crammed into my brain flooding my mind. It was all there, organized and thumbed through, annotated and dog-eared on that bookshelf in my room. The one thing I was allowed to do without Innin’s supervision. I had poured over king lists, family trees, timelines, written accounts and drawings of paintings and tapestries. It was all in those tombs my mother had gifted me. Then there were those many-volumed books of our laws. Examples, modifications, overturning, the king that passed each one.

I stood, my hands curling on the table as I fell into a weird comfortability. I knew nothing of war, of swordsmanship, of archery, but I knew history and law. It was all there, catalogued in my head. I had read countless passages of the Great Conflict, seen countless depictions of its wars in tapestries and paintings. “The Jakeki didn’t make us something,” I felt my tail wrap around my leg, “they forced us into their ideal of ‘civility’.” I kept my eyes on Arshaka, not wanting to glance at Innin or Pili and risk him thinking me needing their approval. “Great Conflict or not, they were out for conquest, Arshaka. They would’ve turned us into colonies if they hadn’t needed to play the savior.” His tongue flicked out, I stayed as calm as I could be now knowing what he was doing; the information I had read on the other tribes had come back with words of the Great Conflict. “They punished the Reissu, the Flodkaros, and the Aeces for standing against them, forcing us to be peaceful as if war was all that was on our minds.”

“Ezo—” I brushed away Innin’s hand, continuing on with my little rant.

“And what were the Ashmaryaka doing during it all? Hiding in caves like the cowards you are until you needed to play the grateful subjects. If you get your war you’ll force Reissu, Flodkaros, and Qriacin lives to die on the battlefield while you hide in your cities, patting yourselves on the back for doing a good job.” His tongue flickered faster, trying to taste my fear, my anxiety in the air. “I will not let my subjects die in a war orchestrated by curs.”

“What do you suggest, then?” He asked coolly. “Are you willing to go against established inter-nation laws?”

“To Irelu with their inter-nation laws!” The name spilled out of me without realizing, and Innin went rigid at the mention. I leaned closer to Arshaka, though, not caring if he were to reach across the table and grab me by my horns. “The Reissu will not follow laws we had no say in, nor do we expect any other tribe to. I certainly won’t follow any forced upon me by raiders and conquerors. Diplomacy will come first, but” I lowered my voice, enunciating each and every word for him, “if you want a war, the Ashmaryaka better be ready to fight.”

Arshaka was quiet for a long while, eyes darting from me to Innin. I stood with purpose, having straightened up after finishing speaking. His hands were kept perfectly folded on the table, tongue only a soft blur as he tasted for our fear. As we all waited for his response, I became increasingly aware of how my feet felt in my sopping wet socks. It continued to draw my focus from him, all I was wanting to do was change them the first chance I had. “Are you with them, Aeces?” He asked, not turning his head from me. Pili responded he was, and Arshaka let out a bit of air through his flat nose. “Crown Prince, I’ll give you a bit of information if you’re serious in going against the Jakeki: a high ranking Jakeki lord is in Port Riverwhistle looking for crow’s tears.”

“He’ll not find them at Port,” Pili suddenly said, standing. He grabbed Innin and me and started pulling us towards the door. “Innin, I take it you’re a better flier than Ezollen?”

“Yes, but” he wrangled himself out of Pili’s grip now that we were back on the street, “what is it you’re planning?”

Pili smiled wide, light hair falling over his sun kissed forehead. “I believe those not from the Isles call it ‘bribery’.” Innin let out a heavy breath, a hand gripping Pili’s arm as he dragged him away. I followed, my hand tucked in Pili’s, silently hoping it wasn’t an accident on Pili’s part. He found an empty alley to pull us into. He kept his voice low and even. Before Innin could speak, Pili explained himself, sensing Innin’s impeding scolding. “It’s to be a gift,” he said. “He gets something he needs, we are then someone he’s willing to at least talk to.” When Innin didn’t look convinced, he added, “We do something similar in the Isles. The chiefs give us gifts we wouldn’t be able to afford, and in exchange we give them our support and can take audiences with them.”

“Ezollen,” Innin said suddenly, eyes on the hand Pili was still holding. “What do you make of Pili’s plan?”

I knew nothing of Jakeki laws outside of what had been forced on us. The chances one low ranking noble would take an audience with us from a gift was low. The chances they’d go along with us was even lower. Yet, it was the only thing I could think of that may give us a chance. We only needed permission to allow us diplomacy. I squeezed Pili’s hand; even rebels had to acknowledge the writ of a power greater than them. “It’s the only thing we have,” I said. “Even if he refuses to speak to us, it’s better to try.”