Crow of the Ocean - Part 3 OF 3

The following is the third part of a story I've been writing on the train this past year. It is done, just in time for my release from the army. This is fortunate, as I'll have no reason to attend the train every day once I'm released! If you've read the previous two parts and have come back for a third helping, I am rather grateful. Enjoy.

CROW OF THE OCEAN

PART 3

There are a plethora of possible sensory assaults by which one might be awakened: the pleasantries of birdsong; the pungent smell of fertilized fields; the warm blemish of creeping sunlight. The ballads all started with something along these lines. Anneli thought the trope as fantastical as the rest of a ballad - real people were awakened by their conscience, or at least their work ethic. Anneli was unbothered by this - ballads and poems, plays and novels, all were enhanced by the sense of unreality about them. By beginning with the merely strange, the wondrous and supernatural could blend in without a jarring disconnect between audience and art. Anneli had written an essay with hopes of publication on the subject. Cantiza had loved it, which was all the proof Anneli needed that it was entirely unfit for purpose. Sadly, Anneli had laid the project aside. But she'd brought the draft to Ricongeraka with her, and there it lay at the bottom of the middle shelf of her bedside drawer. Said drawer had become something of an irksome weight upon her spirit; it was full of unfinished projects of every variety. There were canvases full of sketches, short stories in need of revision, outlines to treatises and plays, and atop it all two unread books. Her grandmother had chided Anneli for her cultural pursuits. She'd lectured at length about the value of Anneli's time and those duties only she could carry out. Anneli had disagreed, but the point was moot either way - just like Shinag, she'd never have the opportunity to master her chosen craft. There was a measure of philosophical resignation about Anneli's attitude, one entirely too smug  for the degree of compromise she was making. Still, carried by an air of holy martyrdom, Anneli set about her day. Front and center in her mind was the conviction to pick up a new batch of letters; there was a delivery due from Extabon. The most troublesome letters of all came from Extabon - distant cousins vying for an audience, haughty rejections by the publishers to which she submitted under a pen name, and bewildering gossip by people she called her friends. But there were also letters from her parents, from most of her siblings, and from those few diamonds in the rough she'd long ago sussed out. But before hopes and fears could be consummated, there was the drudgery of routine to attend to. Anneli stole a hasty glance at her drawer of unfinished work. She grabbed the book at the top - the small black book she'd taken from the library two nights ago. It held no more appeal than it had yesterday, but for whatever reason poetry seemed trite that day. Confident that school would pose no more challenge than usual, Anneli set out.

Her classmates seemed no different than on any other day: they chatted inanely and ignored their teacher. Daunted by the book’s plain appearance, Anneli thought to distract herself with Vanenuell's insipid speech. “Bau really went there! I thought he had more backbone than that, but when Hikoli challenged him to bring her a probe he acquiesced! She told me all about it - he climbed the big tree by the research station” Vanenuell chattered to the girl sitting to her right. Anneli thought this was an awfully vague description - there were many big trees around the research station. “He started by chucking stones, but they were getting nowhere near as high as the probes. Hikoli says she started laughing at him, but instead of cowering Bau grinned. He drew out a slingshot from his back pocket and used that to shoot the probes. Pow! Thwack! Kapaw!” Vanenuell pantomimed loading and shooting a slingshot. Anneli couldn't imagine getting so excited over such a mundane story - did Vanenuell never read anything interesting? Her friend laughed along in that snidely ambiguous way Ricongerakans always laughed when they needed to fill the conversational gaps. Anneli found herself wishing Ricongerakans would just nod along and say ‘yes yes’ instead. “Well, Bau got reeeealy close to hitting one. It was quite a bit larger than the rest, and lower too. He must've been on his last few stones when he finally hit it. Instead of falling out of the sky though, it just swung back and forth like a pendulum, as if it was held up by some invisible string. He yelled something back at Hikoli, but they never got round to resolving anything: a researcher, silly glasses and fancy measuring stick in hand, ran out to yell at him. Hikoli ran off, and Bau joined her a little later. He yelled at her for running off like a coward, she yelled something back, and Hikoli never told me the rest!” Vanenuell finished this asphalt gray tale with a grin of triumph. Her friend followed up with a hundred questions Anneli couldn't care less about - when had Hikoli challenged Bau? Who else knew this story? Was Bau especially good with a slingshot? Would Bau be punished? Why was one probe lower and larger than the rest? Anneli conceded that the last one would interest Shinag. Heart heavy with misplaced dread, Anneli placed her hand on the book’s cover. She couldn't imagine failing in her self appointed duty - if she didn't read this book, if she couldn't claim it was worth saving, well then maybe the Nakotebans were right to burn their library. The thought sickened her. Equally sickening was the thought that the book would be something incomprehensible - algebraic number theory or comparative theology or computational linguistics. Even worse would be if the book was boring, a dry historical accounting of prices and election numbers. Anneli glanced about the room in vain hope of a salvation that wasn't coming - the teacher was sketching a diagram explaining the working of the council of local representatives, and the students were dutiful in their blithe disregard for the lesson. Backed into a corner by boredom at the familiar material and contempt for her classmates, Anneli opened the book. She ought to have felt a greater sense of relief when none of her fears came true - the inside cover read “An account of the rise and fall and rise and fall of the Sunset Chasers”. By the wry title alone, Anneli could tell the book wasn’t more than a century old. A quick glance at the bottom of the page confirmed - fifty eight years. The term “Sunset Chasers” struck a harmonious chord in her memory, bringing to mind discussions round the dinner table about all the fascinating peoples two worlds over. It was also a phrase she'd run into in the odd poem - when speaking of retirement or surrender, poets would sometimes use the term “I've gone to chase the sunset” as a euphemism. Instead of relief that the book wasn't going to be horrendously boring, Anneli felt only disappointment that the book wasn't a work of fiction. She tried drudging up more context behind the term, but could only land on a rather violent student group that used it as their slogan. The group has turned out to be funded by some foreign business interest, the whole university was thrown into chaos for a news cycle, and the students got away scot free. Anneli wondered if that story was somehow emblematic of chasing the sunset, though she couldn't bridge the gap between the prosaic scandal of it all and the grandiose images stirred up by the phrase. Chiding herself for delaying, Anneli turned the page to read the introduction.

“Many are the wondrous tales told of Life. There are tales as old as stories themselves - the Enxua tell of goddesses and nymphs seducing mortal men to their celestial abode. Our Ricongerakan friends speak of heroes ascending to the Tianyug, to join their ranks and adorn Life in distant jewels. The ancient Gidardan philosophers argued that Life was inhabited by a race of men much like us, only they were virtuous where we are fallible and fallible where we are virtuous. The wealth of argument had robbed the question of its luster, until the great Zinlodav with his marvelous contraption of variable lenses observed our sister world with enough detail to distinguish the telltale features of human habitation. All the old pretensions found new life in arguing they had in fact predicted precisely this outcome. 

We've learned little more of our fellow men since that clear night now three centuries past. Vague, circular deductions about history and technology have floated and been endlessly debated. There has been little to go on but blurry images of natural terrain and vague estimates of population density. With the return of the first skyleap, an unprecedented plethora of new information has reached the eager public. That is, you! Doubtless my less scrupulous colleagues have already sold off mounds of random junk as genuine otherworldly merchandise. Perhaps they tell fanciful tales of wizardry and sorcery. And you'll imagine that living on Life would be so much more fun than back home. Nothing could be further from the mundane truth of the world! For all that it is strange and exotic to strangers like us, in truth their lives are duller and shorter than ours. They achieve no great feats, and stir no great emotions. That is, except for the sunset chasers.

I have spent the last year learning a great deal about these strange people. Truly, they are not a state or a nation as we might imagine. To forestall utopian visions, I note now that even on Life the chasers are an oddity - perhaps more so than to our eyes! In the parts of that world worthy of note, nation is everything. The mystery of how people so obsessed with nationality could so blithely forsake it is in large part what drew me to the chasers. We shall have to wait for future expeditions for the stories of the grand empires and the shattered statelets, once so proud in their sophistication. Better this way - those stories are far too large to easily encompass, even in caricature, after so brief an acquaintance. The sunset chasers, oddity of oddities, are a small and insular enough group that their story can be told and comprehended by even a stranger like me.

For the majority of this work I have drawn upon and translated works from the imperial libraries of Cachaneur and the royal libraries of Hopsitix. I have taken the liberty of translating units to those familiar to the reader. I have also determined to remove reference to the various translators involved in most interaction described - the chasers now speak a strange creole incomprehensible even to most trained linguists on Life. How this came to be shall be explained in due course, but assume that in the background of most later stories described there is a translator working very hard. I am greatly indebted to these nameless heroes.

Finally, I note that I myself struggle with most allusions and references in the compiled stories. The reader shall surely agree by the end that the remarkable fact is that these don’t matter when it comes to the story of the chasers themselves. Enjoy!”

Anneli read the introduction with growing impatience. The book was obviously intended for a broad audience, yet the introduction was strangely defensive of its methodology. She supposed there was some reason to clarify sources. The details of the days after the return of skyleap 1 were hazy in her mind. Surely they had been days of excitement, jubilation, and triumphal hope of new horizons? Alongside the grand project of exploring a new world, had there been a wave of crass commercialism? As she reread the introduction, the idea sat firmer in Anneli's mind. She was reminded of her father: whenever anyone had offered him an explanation of any sort he'd quiz and pester until ignorance of some fact or facet was admitted. He'd then triumphantly declare that the explanation was clearly unsound or at the very least incomplete, and demand something better. Anneli had seldom seen anyone follow up on this demand, which only proved the point - there were always missing details. No story simple enough for a human to comprehend could reflect reality in all its glory. And yet, Anneli had thought herself rather knowledgeable upon the subject of the first skyleap. To find a new aspect of it, even one so trivial as the commercialization by the crew, was harrowing. She turned back towards the book and read with half a mind:

“First tale

The first to the chase - the good old duke

Adapted for the reader on Love.

Excerpt from the memoirs of the grand surveyors of emperor Gyzen the second.

I recall here a remarkable story, though my part in it was a paltry one. Twenty nine years ago almost to the day, back when I was a mere surveyor. It was on the third day of the year of the leaping lion. While auditing the flood dams of the rivers outside the capital, I was notified that a large fleet had taken up residence not a mile off Audinja fort. I rushed to the fort and its port facilities posthaste. I secured an interview with their leader after a day of frantic messaging. A junior enlistee was ordered to row me to the flagship, a surprisingly sleek vessel for all its lumbering size. There I was led into the cabin where a tall old man looked down upon me. It was clear he was no imperial, for his fingers were marked by the lasting presence of thick golden rings. The mood in those days was a dark one, and I feared for my posting and life should I allow foreigners to long remain in the waters off Audinja fort. The old man sensed my apprehension, somehow deduced the mercenary motives behind my eyes. He laughed heartily, and I was reminded of the tales of vicious raiders who laughed as they hacked through the scattered villages and townships that stood on these lands before the first emperor forged something greater. When he spoke, I was surprised to find he spoke the imperial tongue, though he spoke like the most backwards of peasants.

“What do you fear, my good man? That I shall bite your head off or have you walk the plank? To be sure, I am a foreigner to your fine lands, but I bear you no ill will. I have even bothered to learn your language, hard as it is on my old chattering jowls!” 

“What is a foreigner doing on our shores? And at the head of so large a fleet, it should never be believed that your intentions are noble and pure. Yet your hair is silver with the weight of many long days, so perhaps I shall hear you out.”

Said I with feigned bravado. Surely, he knew that I was in his power and could command little force to block whatever it was he had planned for the fort and for the broad rivers leading to the capital; as I’ve said, those were dark days, for many reasons. But he allowed me my pride, and he nodded with such graceful acquiescence I thought myself the emperor himself. And he poured me a glass of a drink so fine I’d only seen its ilk at imperial banquets. Once I’d drunk and praised his hospitatility, he interrogated me in the most friendly manner.

“Why do you assume me to be such a nefarious figure? Is my countenance so imposing? Or are my ships so similar to the warships of raiders and pirates? Perhaps you know little of the naval business, but I assure you my ships are fit for no such purpose. Could you find no expert on these matters in your imperial capital?”

“I am most sorry to inform you that I rushed to Fort Audinja with the greatest possible haste. I had not the time to form an entourage of any kind. And even had I the time, there are few shipmen of any kind to be found under the imperial banner. If you wish to boast, I shall listen gladly.”

“Surely you see I am an old man. Whatever it is you know or do not know about the sea, you must guess that this is unusual”

“Far from it! The greatest generals are wizened and gray. The emperor himself ascended in his eighth decade, and has only grown greater with every passing year. I see no reason to see why the sea should be any different.”

He laughed at my response, though by now I was sure it was a laugh most friendly and amiable. I kept my peace as he spoke.

“Well said! Generals and statesmen, they are great in their old age for the years of wisdom and experience they have gained. But my gray hairs have been earned in matters far graver than cruising the blue expanse. Once I was a carefree boy. Then I was a haughty heir to vast estates I knew nothing about. Finally, I was the duke of all the lands from Kina valley to the mouth of Ipstar bay. In time I was called the good old duke, but in truth, I am a weak and frail creature, unsuited for the great weight thrust upon me. Four months ago, I left everyone behind without a word. It would disgust you to hear of it, I am sure.”

The old man rebuked himself in such a manner that I could not help but reassure him that I would consider no such thing. And though I was ignorant of the lands he was rightful steward of, I treated him with all the gravity due to a viceroy.

“Surely that cannot be! Tell me, good sir, who you were, and who you intend to be by sailing to our fair shores.”

His eyes twinkled as if with starlight and lovelight (Author’s note - the term lovelight is used in analogy to our term for that light reflected off of life, lifelight. I have taken the liberty of adapting all references to such nightime light emanating from our home moon as to be called ‘lovelight’, though there is some variation in the exact meaning and emphasis between sources, eras, and languages). He told his tale with the skill of a born storyteller, and I was enraptured, daring not to speak a word lest I spoil his intended effect.

“The thought of escape had crept up on me at great length. During grand feasts and lavish games, doubts and worries had gnawed at me. I cannot claim to have been so unnerved from the start, for truly I was of a most prodigal nature by birth and education. I was no sage or ascetic, grieved and shocked by the suffering and injustice of the world. There had been no great moment of awakening wherein some peasant or pauper stirred my heart. No, my doubts were born of the very court licentiousness I wished to preserve. Years of prodigious spending left my coffers dry, leaving me in the dire position many a lord land in - debt. Whatever my faults were, one could never say I was unaware of history. Too many to count are the stories of nobility diminished to poverty by excess. And I knew the pattern; the start is always small, generous loans with low interest and purely nominal collateral. And the more one borrows, the worse the terms of each new contract. The worse the terms of each debt, the more funds are needed to repay the interest. For years, perhaps a generation if the forefathers are wealthy enough, such a family can survive by borrowing from one creditor to repay another. But sooner or later the game is up, lands and deeds are snatched away, and the Lord or Duke or Count or Margrave is left with nothing but his title and the shirt on his back. And for all that I enjoyed the pleasures my wealth could afford, my pride stood taller! To think that I or my heir would be remembered as such wastrels and scoundrels was as painful as eating hot coals! No, I determined that such would not be my end. I began my campaign slowly - I reigned in the greatest extravagances, I pruned my guest lists, I sold unproductive lands, I took great care to repay what debts had accumulated. It had become a game, one I was very much interested in winning. I had skirted the brink of disaster, but my reputation had shrunk, my contacts withered, repulsed by my frugality. If I was to regain them, I had to raise revenue. My lands were poor and agricultural, small holdings for all that I was unprepared even for their stewardship. Even if I could squeeze more from those living there, it would do little good, for melons and grapeseeds are only ever worth so much. (Author's note - I have taken the liberty of replacing those foreign objects with those most familiar to our readers. Life does not grow melons or grapes, and besides, if one could grow grapes there are far more lucrative ventures than drying the seeds and selling those. I myself have been unable to ascertain the exact produce referred to here, but my understanding is that they are some non-essential items - one difficult to transport without refrigeration, the other some dried specimen, more mobile but hardly valuable. Therefore - melons and grapeseeds). It was with these considerations in mind that as a bachelor of 50 I gazed hungrily at the lands to my south. (Author's note - Life orbits about war with a similar axial precession as Love. I have been led to understand that due to its smaller size it orbits War at a commensurably faster rate. I leave the details to the scientific members of the expedition; I am certain they have made no end of advertising their expertise in lucrative interviews and print. Nevertheless, 50 years on Life correspond to about 34 of our own. Besides this, the phrase ‘Bachelor of 50’ recurs in sources from Cachaneur, right up until the present day. It appears nowhere else, lending much credence to the theory that this story is in no way a straight transliteration of the interaction. Whatever the case, the saying refers to those who have remained unwed past their prime, but also in general to those who’ve squandered their potential, if not yet irredeemably).””

At so pointlessly self indulgent an aside Anneli could not help but chuckle with unfeigned mirth. Had the class been any quieter, a teacher or fellow student might have taken note of such seemingly random an outburst. But the class was far from calm, and Anneli's laughter was more than swallowed by the usual rambunctious din. A glance at the clock revealed only minutes had passed, and Anneli went back to reading. 

“At this pronouncement the stranger seemed most agitated. The grave nature in which he spoke put me in mind of the emperor's advisors and assistants, or perhaps the low priests and sages, murmuring admonishment and absolution round every street corner. I could not help my curiosity as I inquired:

“Why have you ceased your recollection? Did some calamity you fear to recall befall you at this time?” 

“No such thing, dear guest. You are right, I have fallen silent, and it is bad form to do so. In setting my eyes south, I fostered ambitions I could not hope to match had I used those resources traditionally at my disposal. There were very few men at arms in my lands, and fewer still those minor nobles who might rightfully join me with their retainers. Had I gathered them all for a campaign, I would not have commanded a force greater than 200 fighting men. The solution was obvious, and yet unthinkable. You see what I am saying, do you not?”

I listened with creeping horror as this venerable old man spoke of violence and his intention to use it. But, uneducated and small minded as I was back then, I was ever more shocked by the nature of war he was describing, and I could not help but express my incredulity and misunderstanding. 

“You raised an army in revolt? What crass foolishness! And here you are, fleeing your emperor, bringing yet more trouble to our shore! Is it succor or aid you wish to obtain for your ill begotten cause?”

In my haste I had forgotten he was only halfway through his story, that he could not possibly have aged so quickly after a failed rebellion. He confusedly rushed to smooth my fears:

“Pshaw, pay such thoughts no mind! I was a wretch, but I had no quarrel with king Duarjp. Sit down, honorable fellow, whatever could've given you so poor an impression of me?” 

“How could it be otherwise? Say you that you raised an army. At the least, considered what army you could raise alone! What else is an army to do in the service of any man but his emperor but rebel?”

I had the good sense to make no more threats at this time. Had I made any, my host would most assuredly have laughed them off, for he found my indignation most humorous and my misunderstanding most ironically amusing. He laughed his head off before answering me.

“You are most wise my dear guest! For truly, what great cause had I to covet my neighbors fief? I suppose it was rebellion, in some roundabout manner - for king Duarjp and his realm are never better off for the squabbling of dukes and lords. As things stand, the worst I would be charged with is theft.”

He had become animated and cheerful. I did not wish to interrupt this sudden positivity, and so kept my peace by slowly sipping what remained of my drink. 

“As I thought over my predicament, I realized the only way to secure the port was some overwhelming campaign of immediate daring. The very wealth I wished to seize would more than fund a sufficient counterforce to crush whatever I could come up with. Could I somehow summon all my men at arms at once, perhaps I could execute such a strike. But the state of my lands being what they were, and the dubiousness of my prospects clear to the rankest amateur at military affairs, all seemed hopeless.”

Here he paused once more. He bent to look me in the eyes, as if seeking redemption in my gaze. As I did not yet know what crime he claimed for himself, I could do little more than cock my head in mimicry of sympathy. His head bent in anguish as he murmured on:

“I armed the farmers and the huntsmen. True, there was little armor or mount to go round. But together with those regular men at arms, the force was more than overwhelming, at least for that one engagement. And one engagement was all it took, for other than arming those unworthy of arms, I had followed every code of etiquette available to follow: I had offered to buy the lands, I had arranged a parlay, I had interceded for royal arbitration, and I had even found myself personally aggrieved in some capacity or other. When all these attempts had failed, as I had known and hoped they might, I had, as the aggrieved party, announced the place and time I wished the matter to be resolved through force of arms. Had my forces been more conventionally imposing, doubtless my rival, Earl Crosstar, would've refused, and battle would have been sought by subterfuge and maneuver. Certainly, this would've been a great if not backbreaking impediment to my motley arrangement. As it was, Earl Crosstar readily agreed to my terms. How he reacted to the sight of my army, ten times the size it ought to have been, I have no idea; for he had not even summoned all those forces he might muster! He thought to fight with honor, to bring to bear only as many men at arms as I could! In that moment I was put to shame, all the greater for the relief with which it was intermingled. Mounted men charged, and farmers hurled stones from slings and grapeshot from Canvas. The rest rushed forwards in a frenzy for loot, and no doubt more of them killed each other in their passion than were killed by the quickly dispersing enemy forces. And old Crosstar, silly honorable Crosstar, we found him crushed between his retainers and their mounts. I would've wept were I alone.”

I sat in awe and confusion at this brief yet powerful retelling. But still, as it had become clear to me that this man came from a land with standards and taboos very different from our own, I could not tell if he had already confessed that grave crime that yet weighed down his spirit to that very day. As the silence drew longer, I came to think he wanted me to pursue his story further. And so I spoke up, with that wise hesitant patience only the emperor's own men can properly employ.

“And this battle, it secured you these lands you so needed?”

He looked at me with deep sadness, his face drawn long and mellow. His eyebrows knit in confusion. Then he nodded, as if I had asked the wisest question since the second emperor asked how he might honor his father.

“Oh yes, the battle, if you could call it that, secured me those lands and more. For old Earl Crosstar had sired many ambitious sons, all too eager to tear their father's realm into the tiniest fiefdoms. I'd promise support to one, and then the other, and before they knew it they had offered me everything valuable their father had ever owned!”

He spoke of this rapine looting with such joyful glee I could not help but suppose this was not the crime that upset him so. And yet, he went quiet again. I saw no other option but to ask, though it pained me to be so brutally blunt. 

“Which was your transgression? The greed for your neighbor's lands? The dishonesty with which you pursued your goals? The dishonorable way in which you won your battle? The killing of a fellow noble? Or the inheritance which you robbed of his sons?” 

I had not intended to be so critical of my host, yet his story had aroused a deep instinctive revulsion within me. He balked at me, and I feared the worst. Then he laughed, full and throaty, the laughter of a condemned man given pardon, or the relieved hysteria of a mother out of labour. I could not call it happy - cathartic, perhaps. As if in my condemnation, I had provided him with the absolution he so desperately sought. When he had recovered from this spasm, he spoke as a man born anew. 

“I armed the farmers! Men unworthy of wielding a dagger, and I gave them sword and spear, trained them in drill and formation! (Author’s note: It is most unlikely that anything approaching proper drill existed in the time and place this story had supposedly taken place. The very description of the battle undermines the claim! At least parts of this story are clearly later additions. Nevertheless, later sources treat the outline of this story as true, though at times more as legend than historical fact, see Sixth tale: Reborn upon the winds for an example of this). It is the most awful perversion of justice and order! And you have not even seen fit to list it with my crimes! You are wonderful, good guest, you and whoever sent you, and whoever taught you whatever was taught you!” 

And so, perhaps I had granted his soul that which he sought. And still, I sensed he had much to tell. I prodded-”

Anneli's concentration was broken by a familiar shriek from Vanenuell. For all that instances of her hysteria were unexceptional, their volume and pitch were so overwhelming that no monk or stoic could ignore them. Only the teacher, worn down by years of loud and inattentive Ricongerakan students, had the wherewithal to practice business as usual despite the interruption; he sketched the limits of qualified immunity with such graceful and practiced skill that Anneli could find fault in it only by omission. 

“Oh Kiteki, I've just remembered! Just yesterday evening, mother told me there'd be no music tonight! And after everything we've done! All that work for nothing, oh I'll weep!” Vanenuell burst out to her friend. Anneli could not decide whether she was more fascinated or revolted by so childish a display performed by a girl her age. As if in some form of resonance, Kiteki raised her voice to a similar desperate wail as she echoed Vanenuell’s laments. “All that work down the drain! And after we're so tired from school! And now it's cancelled? It's so tragic!” Kiteki moaned and wailed. Snippets of memory drew together in Anneli's mind, forming a picture to explain the current situation. Vanenuell couldn't be referring to any large state sponsored event, otherwise Anneli would've heard of it - if not been forced to participate! It couldn't be some touring celebrity, for then why would Vanenuell and Kiteki have practiced? That left the nature of the event unclear. Music was a most general term, for it could refer to the accompaniment of a play, to high opera, to tuned prose, to string quartets, or to any number of other art forms Anneli hadn't the time or interest to acquaint herself with. Curiosity got the better of Anneli, and so she turned to question Kiteki. “What have you been practicing?” Anneli asked with an unfeigned air of only mild interest. Kiteki stared at her like she was some strange creature washed up from the sea. Vanenuell took charge of the situation, speaking for her friend whether she wanted her to or not. “It's nothing to you. You're probably delighted we're cancelling things, aren't you? We'll all celebrate the anniversary of Ginaizin and the king’s birthday, wouldn't that be just to your liking?” Vanenuell said proudly. Anneli wanted to laugh, considered there was no reason to hold back, and laughed. It was so good natured a reaction that Vanenuell was caught entirely off guard when Anneli upbraided her for her pretensions. “Come on Vanenuell, you've never heard of the battle of Ginaizin! And the king's birthday? That's barely a holiday at all, just a precession in Extabon! Who's filling your head with this guff? If you've failed some test or a boy rejected you, that's no excuse to take it out on me! I promise you, I'd never seek cancellation of a performance of any kind! So, what's this music I've heard nothing about?” Anneli said with an inoffensive smile. Vanenuell glared back at her, but there was more confusion than fire in her gaze. “Don't call what my mother says guff!” Vanenuell started. “And whatever you say, you must be glad our event was cancelled; the Canper is the one who cancelled it! Just this morning, so early it must've been before sunrise. Said he had something very important to say, something that just couldn't wait. Mother says it's a standing, but he didn't call it that in his announcement. Whatever it is, he’s your lackey!” Vanenuell finished by raising her head in such a way as to stare down her nose at Anneli. Anneli cursed her isolation, that she had somehow missed this news in her morning routine. “What kind of event could the Canper cancel?” Anneli wondered. Evidently, she had mused aloud, for Kiteki was quick with an offended answer: “Any kind!” She said with more conviction than Anneli had thought the air headed girl was capable of. Vanenuell nodded in a righteous fury as she took the reins of confrontation from Kiteki. “That's exactly it! The Canper has every right to call Nakotebo to attention! What do we care for the inconvenience? If we don't heed what the Canper says, even a Canper such as ours, why even bother sitting in Ricongeraka at all?” Vanenuell told Anneli in the harshest of tones. Anneli gave up the argument, frustrated at Vanenuell's obtuseness and the certainty she was merely repeating what she'd heard from her mother. Still, as the lesson came to a close and Vanenuell rose to leave, Anneli found herself correcting Vanenuell's misconception. “The Canper can't cancel any kind of event. It's all in the union resolution: the Canper has exclusive authority over marriage, funeral, and religious ceremony in his jurisdiction. And that wasn't drafted by an Extabon lawmaker! It was just a formalization of the most common traditions of the Ricongerakan tribes. And believe what you want, but Nakotebo was most certainly not an exception!” Anneli said without looking at Vanenuell. For her part, Vanenuell merely clucked disapprovingly as she left to get up to no good.

Anneli rose to pace the school grounds. After the confused mess that had taken place yesterday, it was almost a disappointment when she was left unmolested. The boys were up to a ball game; shouts and orders loudly ringing from every throat in such unbalanced unison as to throw off the keenest of savants. Anneli thought their excitement was rather overblown - didn't they play this game every day? What could pique the interest in ground so often trodden? In the same actions repeated in the same regular rhythm day in day out? Anneli had asked one of them some days past, and his answer had mystified her: “Don't you read lots of books? Aren't those just the same old words over and over again?" He'd said derisively. “Of course,” Anneli had answered “Each book is a world unto itself. And even those familiar elements, be they turns of phrase or entire plots, each is presented in a new light by its very repetition!” She'd said proudly. The boy had merely rocked back on his haunches and raised his eyebrows at her. She'd understood his meaning, though she remained unconvinced. She pondered these thoughts as she paced the school grounds. She walked in the shade of tightly trimmed trees, their orderly neatness and carefully crafted shade maximizing shape a mark of institutional excellence Anneli had come to sorely miss. She paced back and forth until the break neared its end. As she paused to consider whether her next lesson would include a single morsel of new information, she finally noticed a low buzzing from just above the treeline. “Has that been here the whole time?” Anneli murmured to herself, almost as if she was a character in a play, determined to clue the audience into her thoughts. It was a habit she had at first picked up ironically, in parody of some overly dramatic courtier or other. As with all ironic habits when indulged for too long a time, it had metastasized into that very thing it wished to parody. She stepped into the harsh Ricongerakan sun, stunningly overbearing even in the spring. Not a moment later, a small buzzing drone charged down towards her, discharged a light envelope into her hands, and took off again. Anneli gaped at its retreat, for such drones were rare and expensive, even in the Hettish heartland. To see one employed so casually in Ricongeraka was a sign of either official distress or immense wealth. Neither would have particularly surprised her at that time. 

The letter was terse and typed, a shock to Anneli's old-fashioned sensibilities. She was a great believer in the hidden meaning that handwriting might convey. Writing itself could convey anything: elation, distress, boredom, cleanliness, frustration, etc’. At the very least, Anneli believed she could detect these in her own writing. Much to her chagrin, she'd yet to have gleaned anything useful from this supposed font of insight. Still, she was galled by the lack of such a possibility. She might’ve thought to learn something from the very fact that the letter was typed, but she supposed it would be easier to just ask the Canper. And it seemed she'd have the opportunity to do so soon, for the letter read as such:

“Anneli Endonter. You must come to my assistance at once. There have been worrying developments in regards to our conference yesterday. We shall convene at my residence. Bring whatever guard you have about you. 

Signed and sealed,

The twenty seventh Canper of Nakotebo”

She was certain she'd lectured at length as to the nature of her guard, their official non existence, their subtle trail, and most importantly the utter lack of contact of any sort. Determined to remind the Canper of these facts, she left the school grounds and took a direct route to his residence. Leaving was no issue, for Nakotebo didn't seem to believe in the compulsory part of compulsory education. Or perhaps Nakotebans thought parents should discipline wayward children. But Nakoteban parents were about as lax as Nakoteban dress. Anneli mulled over this fact with a growing resentment, though the object of resentment eluded her. There was some infuriating element to the whole ordeal, some grave injustice being carried out right under her supervision. The thought found ready purchase in her mind, winkling its way past more immediate concerns and worries. When she showed up at the Canper’s door, she'd all but forgotten why she was there. The Canper had not; she had barely knocked when the door opened to a haggard man, identifiable as the Canper of Nakotebo only to those primed to search for his unremarkable facial features. It was not that he was bedraggled or unkempt; he was dressed in a loose fitting light gray suit, and a proper black hat adorned with just enough colorful stripes to mark him as distinctly Ricongerakan. The fit was imperfect and the look not entirely the height of fashion, but Anneli would've taken no note of it in another. For the Canper of Nakotebo however, it was as scandalous as nudity. More so, perhaps. She and the Canper stared at each in a mixture of confusion and horror, until Anneli glanced around to make sure no one else saw this shameful sight. The street was quiet, which was unsurprising in the middle of the work day, but the silence went further than that. There was no chittering hum from within the lightly built Ricongerakan houses; no humdrum sweeping by cleaning or garbage vehicles and drones; no bustle of housewives in the middle class houses and no orderly chaos from the legions of serving men and women in the mansions of the wealthy. Anneli had grown used to the openness of Ricongeraka, the ever present hum of their households clear to any passerby. And though she disapproved of it, the absence was disconcerting. Thinking back, a similar such silence had followed her all the way from school. Stretching her thoughts back to the beginning of the whole mess, Nakotebo had been just as quiet that night at the library. Only then there had been the sounds of the night to cover up the true eeriness of the silence.

After another moment of silence, wherein Anneli gazed about the street with mounting horror, the Canper dragged Anneli inside and slammed the door. She hadn't the composure to protest before the Canper began another terror filled ramble. “I've never heard of anything so awful! And all the links confirm it! There'll be riots in the streets, it'll be the end of Nakotebo! What do we do, princess? What do we do?” the Canper all but yelled at her. Anneli found herself missing his paternalistic condescension - that attitude had fit his role. Simpering in fear in front of an adolescent girl, no matter that she was a scion of the house of Apogee, was most certainly not what an official of the empire ought to be doing. “Calm down for just a minute!” Anneli said, her eyes jumping frantically between the nervous Canper and his now bare house. All those little oddities and trinkets that had once adorned the walls were gone, leaving the space behind them disconcertingly bare. “Nothing's happened, not as far as I know. Perhaps my news is out of date, but nothing momentous has changed since the little green man left us last night. It's like the poem goes:

‘Round and round by the Andelay bend,

Roses and ichor were all I could spend. 

But hark ye! And bark ye! And lay by the by!

Tomorrow to start is as good as today!’ 

And certainly, over months and years we might see some great shift. But hour to hour? Chin up! Don your robes! Give a speech or conduct some ceremony or other!” Anneli ordered with as much conviction as she could put into words at so sudden a crisis. The Canper stared at her, and when he shook his head it was with more resignation than sadness. “It's all up on the link. And soon enough it'll be in every newspaper and tabloid from Waydaub to Amaseida. I thought you were jesting when you claimed to have no access to a link! How could you run your business otherwise?” the Canper said cryptically. Whilst Anneli had a great desire to tear the Canper's secrets from him, not in the least an explanation for why he cancelled Vanenuell's event that evening, she could not resist one of her favorite arguments. Besides, it was one of very few points where she found herself in total agreement with her grandmother, and such rarities were to be treasured and nurtured. “I run my business just as every man and woman ran their business until forty years ago! Just as most everyone not in some way involved in high risk financial markets runs their business! What good does immediate access to all the world's information do for you? Are corn prices in Gidarda crucial to performing marriage ceremonies? Or do you sift through the mountains of accumulated case law from all Ricongerakan history every time you adjudicate a property dispute? The link erodes thinking, it erodes common sense! Unless you're some gifted whizz kid, you can't even connect to the thing. And once you're connected, the sheer scale of information available makes it useless for all but the hyper-specifically specialized in the technology! So what you're left with is whole cohorts of people who've forgotten how to look anything up, their heads full of useless non-information instead! And worse still if what you're after is news! Knowing all the woes and disasters in every corner over two worlds can't possibly be helpful! Just one newspaper is bad enough, but each petty agenda pusher under War? You'd think society was crumbling every single day! If whatever it is is important enough, we'll hear when the time is right. And if it isn't important, it'll fizzle out before reaching our ears! So; what tiny, irrelevant, misreported nonsense has got you this distressed?” Anneli demanded. Ironically, this tirade had some of the intended effect of alleviating the Canper's spirits. “Decide, mistress Apogee: is your news out of date, or is mine irrelevant for its very newness? You cannot have both!” The Canper said, straightening up just a little. Anneli rolled her eyes at this rebuke of her hypocrisy as the Canper continued. “If there was any doubt before, things now stand clear as day: there will be riots of some kind. The Tianyug still reign in their celestial abode.” He said with a hint of defiant pride. Anneli, whilst dismissive of his rebuke and sure in her opinions, was enraptured by the possibilities the Canper now suggested. “That’s the dreadful news from Life? Why, it's wonderful! All that talk about investors and speculators, all this worry about what would happen if there was some disaster, all averted! It's all been so many words, so much fear mongering, for nothing! What happened in the colonies? Has it spread to the whole empire?” Anneli asked with increasing excitement, seemingly oblivious to all she knew which implied a disaster as opposed to a triumph. The Canper gaped at her jubilation for a moment, as if he'd forgotten where his jaw ought to rest. He recovered himself enough to disabuse Anneli of her hopeless romanticism. “I'd hope not! ‘The magic of the colonists’, as it will no doubt be known, is no useful magic like the servant of Cachaneur or the contract binding the great city. To call what's happened the magic of a people at all seems an awful perversion!” The Canper began. Anneli listened, utterly enraptured, even as some corner of her mind rebelled at the use of such a vulgar term as ‘magic’. That the phrasing was universal amongst the peoples Love was no consolation. Each and every time she heard someone speak of ‘the magics of Life’ she felt like a superstitious Ricongerakan peasant, gawking at the grand treasure fleet and terming it a chariot for the Tianyug. She much preferred Shinag’s view; that many phenomena were yet unexplained, and doubtless there would ever be that which the human mind would fail to comprehend. Nevertheless, such things must follow some universal laws; be it the seemingly uncaused spinning of a magnet or the seemingly supernatural events which occurred like clockwork to the people of certain nations on Life. Anneli especially liked this attitude as it all but exonerated her from learning how anything physical really worked, including magnets. The Canper went on as Anneli listened in silence: “people have begun disappearing. At first some foreign entity was suspected, and that caused no end of trouble for the Skyleap company back home: investors started pulling out, and concerned families clamored for answers. The story was kept under control for a while, and rumors of a more mundane disaster had begun making the rounds. But it's all been blown to smithereens! Just last night, though what time it was over there I've no idea. Half the staff of the central consulate disappeared all at once, in full view of the representative of Cachaneur. The little man from yesterday, he must've known something! Oh Anneli, in all my years in office there's never been anything so dreadful. I don't suggest our escape lightly: I have overseen funerals of the young and old, I've seen good times and bad, and never before has it crossed my mind to leave Nakotebo, let alone to leave Ricongeraka! But if we remain, there might be so much more than our mere lives at stake. Suppose we’re killed, even injured by a mob of angry zealots. And you can be sure, it won't be just zealots out against us!” The Canper slid from recounting the news to hysterical rambling with the grace only a long-standing official of the empire might employ. Anneli scrunched her face in puzzlement at his mention of his long experience. That he was no callow youth was evident by his sagging skin and thinning hair, yet Anneli doubted he was very much more than twice her age. He had yet to begin the arduous search for an apprentice, and farther still from that long search for the appropriate woman with whom he would renounce his lifelong celibacy, and therefore his station. The previous Canper of Nakotebo had done so rather late in life, a precedent she supposed the present Canper was unlikely to follow given his current attitude. Anneli was unsympathetic as she interrupted the Canper with a dry observation: “Yes, it would be rather harmful to intra-empire relations were we to be lynched by a mob of angry malcontents. More than mad zealots you say? Why? Who else feels so strongly about bland political figureheads like us, more emblems than statesmen?” Anneli thought her point was well made, but the Canper shook his head vigorously. “They don't hate us, Anneli. The vast majority of them know nothing about you or I. They neither care nor care to know that I have a long history of carving out special exemptions for Nakotebo based firms. And they certainly couldn't name a single thing you've done; not your letters or broadcasts, your speeches and ceremonies. Even our stations are somewhat opaque to the masses; a Canper is just someone who gives the occasional boring speech; a princess is just a pretty face for the papers. But there is a small minority of genuine fanatics! People who’ve wasted their lives plotting revolution for its very sake. People who know more of our actions than we do ourselves. Whatever we do, these individuals will find a way to construe it as the most despicable possible course of action. And when everyone else is temporarily upset over financial losses and foreign disasters, this cadre will mobilize that energy to shape the moment in their image.” The Canper pronounced with the sanguine air of a doomed prophet. Anneli wanted to scoff, but found her reserves of blithe disregard running dangerously dry. “All so much fluff, it's never happened!” Was all she could muster. The Canper was ready with an almost haughty reply. “Oh yes it has! In Enxua, as the loose federation of fiefs failed to uphold the law against various robber barons, the assembly was overrun by an angry mob. No one really knows what happened next, but it is ever so telling that it took nearly a decade for the country to be subdued under the current party. And in Gidarda, and in Cachaneur! These stirrings might very well be the empire's reckoning, you can't take it all so lightly!” he finished. Anneli paced the bare corridor as she listened, and tried to formulate a rebuttal of any sort. “So you're running away, and taking me in tow? Won't that just leave Nakotebo to fall unopposed?” Was all she could come up with. The Canper was ready with a retort, and Anneli could see him gather himself with truer dignity than he'd shown in a long while. “There's no rebel army just yet! It's still mostly people, well meaning, confused, angry people. And if they're left to their own devices, if nothing dramatic happens, if there's no rallying cry, it'll all fizzle into nothing. But if we stay, it cannot end any better than that, and very likely much worse!” He said with increasing force, as if to an unruly or disobedient student. Anneli, who'd spent no time at all thinking upon the subject, found the argument persuasive if somewhat unsettling. She found herself swayed, yet she knew that a counterargument must exist. Moreover, the line of reasoning stank with the same rank injustice of Ricongerakan schooling which had so irked her earlier. All in all, these thoughts were a degree too nebulous to put forth. Instead, she grasped onto whatever she could. “Then why in three worlds did you schedule a Nakotebo wide standing tonight?” Anneli flung the statement carelessly. Confusion danced across the Canper's newly spirited features. “I've scheduled a standing? Anneli, please refrain from such mischief and trickery! The situation is bad enough as it is, so let's be honest with each other! You want me to schedule a standing? Why?” He asked Anneli in some disbelief. “How could this possibly have been done behind your back? I'm not suggesting you lecture anybody right now! But I suppose it makes more sense you called me here to escape with you!” Anneli mused, too lost in thought to explain herself. 

Her mind boggled at the banality of it all. There was no reason to suppose anyone had forged the Canper's seal, no reason to suppose they had even hijacked his official channels through the link or broadcasts. Anyone could've planted the rumor, stated it as fact to a gullible colleague or child. It did not escape Anneli's attention that she had taken the statement at face value herself. It was so strange a thing to lie about, so utterly divorced from the usual gossip of scandalous celebrity and strongman vituperation that its veracity had seemed unquestionable. But such a train of thought still left something to be desired. “Haven't you heard of this? What have you been doing all day?” Anneli asked, most certainly lacking the deference due to a religious official of the empire. The Canper looked puzzled for a moment more, before giving way to agitated desperation. “How widespread are these rumors? Did you hear about it through some official communication? Are we already cut off from Extabon?” He asked in tones of lethargic despair. Anneli glared at the Canper, both for his refusal to answer and his renewed mewling. He wilted under her gaze as he answered her question with as much dignity as a boy caught stealing from the pantry. “Of course I've talked to my people today - my hours are no shorter than yours. There was an appointment at city hall before sunrise with the fisherman's guild. After that an hour long conference for granting a marriage license to a pair of cousins. Then I checked the link and heard the news, and I've been packing up ever since.” A blush of shame colored his face as he recalled his conduct. But Anneli could muster neither rage nor disappointment at his course of action. “I suppose the drones have been a lot of help with that!” Anneli said plainly, almost cheerfully. Then her eyes lit up with sudden realization, and her manner transformed into that of positive ecstasy. “Well, we've each said all there is to say. It seems you're right: there is a conspiracy of some kind, some revolutionary cell poised to wreak chaos upon fair Nakotebo’s crystal shores. I have considered the circumstances and stated my opinion, as have you. It is now perfectly constitutional for me to defer the decision to the local office holder! We shall draft a letter to my grandmother the queen and request an immediate transfer to Hetland. We'll weather the storm in an Extabon theater or a highland garden, make up a story about cultural exchange programs or some other such nonsense. Then we'll sprout back up in our place like the lively cyclamen do every winter.” Anneli was babbling by the end, and her enthusiasm for flight offended the Canper to some small degree. Nevertheless, he was glad to set about writing the letter alongside Anneli. “We'll write through my usual mail. There are official channels open to you, but they'll be ever more cumbersome than my usual correspondence. Once grandmother sees your seal on it, she'll have to take it seriously at the very least!” Anneli said as they set about writing the request. “I'd thought of a more immediate course of action” the Canper said hesitatingly. “Deliverance from on high would be most welcome, but we don't have the time for it. I was thinking we should head to Amaseida and find passage on a liner, by air or by sea. Even our presence in more cosmopolitan Amaseida might insulate us from the worst of the turmoil. Although…” he trailed off as the circumstances surrounding Amaseida reared their heads to his attention. Anneli finished the counterargument: “if we’re concerned about a financial hit causing discontent, Amaseida is about the worst place to be. In all those examples of revolution, when were the rural outskirts ever the origins? I'm convinced we're not entirely safe in Nakotebo, but we're probably as safe as we'll be in Ricongeraka!” Anneli stated with unwarranted confidence. The Canper shrugged his acceptance of this reasoning, and they set about composing their request. 

“To the head of the house of Apogee and all that is united beneath her;

The safety of persons loyal and indispensable to the function of your realm is under great doubt. Public sentiment has reached a precarious edge, and those worries which in better times might be dismissed must be taken in all their grave severity. Our continued presence in Ricongeraka is both an inflaming influence and eminent security risk, both to our persons and the state. We request an immediate transfer elsewhere. Contact us via the link number 0455-799-1212

Signed and sealed, the twenty seventh Canper of Nakotebo.

Regards, Anneli Endonter, of the house of Apogee.”

Anneli had fretted over the exact phraseology of the request, much to the Canper's anxious chagrin. He'd thought a more direct emotional appeal would better convey the dire nature of their predicament, but Anneli had insisted upon terse formality. The point of the queen’s name was brought up just as the drafting was finalized: “address her by name! My father hated formality, my mother all the more so. They'd ask if I'd like to be treated so coldly, as if I were their business partner and not their son. Your grandmother has rejected your previous entreaties, hasn't she? Maybe you should try a different tack!” The Canper argued. Anneli tugged at a lock of hair as she answered, as if there were something coquettish in this formal manner of addressing her grandmother. “All well and good, Canper of Nakotebo. But you wouldn't like it if anyone, be they niece or nephew or Tianyug made flesh, called you by your name. I suppose you don't have a name anymore, not until you retire from your duties, but it is not so different for my grandmother. She is the head of the house of Apogee! Sole sovereign over forty million souls, and she has been so for many years. At the very least, calling her by name would be undignified. And more so, she very much embodies her station, as do you. But for all that her erasure isn't as official as yours, it is just as real.” Anneli said with a sincerity she often lacked. The Canper remained unconvinced, but he let the matter drop. No matter that she was not truly sole sovereign of anything, no matter that she could well have retired long ago; there was some truly held belief that anchored Anneli's conviction in this manner, and it was just that anchor the Canper sought in the house of Apogee.

Away they set! Past streets of daring quiet.

Away they walked! Into maws of subtle doom.

Almost they ran, they caught, they lumbered!

For upon them sat the heaviest gloom.

They did not notice the heaving quiet.

They did not notice the silent abyss. 

Blissfully they talked, they thought, they wondered!

Left alone to a devil's silent kiss.

Thereupon the beach they wondered, 

Nourishing an age sublime!

Pondered fairytales of men and gods,

And the sweet results of time.

Sick dread pervaded Anneli’s being at the subtle signs of debris littering the way from the gate to her mailbox. Said dread turned very nearly to full blown panic at the sound of a human voice hallooing her cheerfully, anything but subtle. And for all that these occurrences confirmed every fear she might've harbored and then some, there seemed nowhere to run. The remains of her mailbox and the cheerful greeter both came into view rather simultaneously. Anneli mustered what indignation she could as she charged forward. The surreal strangeness of the situation was enhanced by the intruder’s unusual and disheveled appearance. The distance between them had closed, and the two stood at odds for a moment, as if sizing the other up before a brawl. Anneli broke the silence just as the Canper caught up, somewhat out of breath. “You should not be here. None should or perhaps even could reach this shore without my express guidance. And yet here you stand, in obvious defiance. Moreover, you have damaged my property and torn my letters. In doing so, you have directly sabotaged the royal prerogative, and have all but forfeited your life and liberty. Speak plainly, and though you may not be forgiven, you may yet walk away intact!” Anneli demanded in an imperious tone. She'd expected either derision, defiance, or sullen silence in response. Instead, she was met by mad laughter. It was not the suave, confident chuckle of a mastermind that came to gloat over his erstwhile foes. And it wasn't the self assured air of a holy martyr. The man seemed barely more lucid than an escapee from an insane asylum. Eventually, he got enough of a hold over himself to form coherent Hettel sentences. “Princess Anneli, you are ever so much Autiola’s daughter!” He said familiarly, as if he were a wayward uncle who'd come to visit an unruly child. Anneli could not sputter an indignant reply before he went on in a manner far more serious, though the words themselves might've been construed as jovial. “She's made of the toughest steel, she's bedrock and fountain stone all in one. She'll always assume the worst, and always be quick to see reason. Never has a finer daughter Gidarda seen. And you, Anneli, are you Gidarda’s finest granddaughter?” Anneli listened in frozen horror as the gears turned in her head. His strangeness fit together in awful shape. For the briefest moment, all Anneli could think of was how his presence was the most horrific parody of a Deus ex machina. She snapped out of her daze when the Canper nudged her gently, perhaps even by accident. “My mother hasn't given up the ghost yet? Don't answer, please. If you answer, then I'll know that something awful has happened behind my back, and I'll have to tell grandmother, and I think she's really getting sick of hearing bad news from me. Just… Why? Why did my mother send you? How has she even heard of the disturbances in Ricongeraka?” Anneli asked, so disconcerted that she forgot to ask why the dark stranger had assaulted her mailbox. The stranger shrugged sheepishly, though more than a little confusion crossed his brow amid the coy mystery of the gesture. He replied evasively, suddenly as composed as the Codan high priest standing before the royal congregation. “How does anyone hear anything nowadays? Old king Binmy heard of Skyleap 1’s success not a minute after the launch, and that was before the link, before anything like booths or broadcasts. And today, with all these wonders, it surprises you that the queen’s daughter in law might know the goings on of her daughter?” Kozext said elliptically, avoiding the point as studiously as he could. Anneli was not to be diverted by a potentially interesting argument over the benefits and efficacy of instantaneous communication. “Not one of the approved seven news outlets have any stations in Nakotebo. And none of the rogue organizations that constantly whine over state sponsored censorship have the resources to keep anyone out here either. So there's someone here feeding her information. Of course, how could it be otherwise? You've been here the whole time, haven't you? Why else would there be a dark skinned man with a light Gidardan accent anywhere in Ricongeraka? Mother hasn't the faintest clue of what's occurred these past few days! You're practically a rogue agent! Now; why did you destroy my mailbox?” Anneli accused Kozext perhaps slightly unfairly. For his part, Kozext reacted only to the charge of speaking with a Gidardan accent. He straightened to attention at the jibe, looked about himself bashfully as if he'd instead been accused of having torn his pants. The Canper hazarded a defence for the stranger, ill informed though it might have been. “Ricongeraka is not Gidarda! Men of all kinds can walk our streets and shores without fear for their lives, no matter which faction or party might be in the ascendant. Is it so strange that one with a darker complexion stalks our shores? Were he a spy or informant, would he be so ostentatiously strange?” The Canper tried raising his voice with a tremor of righteous indignation, but instead his declarations died on the winds, carried off unto the waves. Though the attempt was pathetic, Anneli felt obliged to elucidate the misunderstanding. “Anyone with my mother's name on their lips is strange in some way. Gidardan exiles of every class, morally dubious medical practitioners, divines and mystics, even half insane daredevils who want to explore the stars and the ocean depths. For all that his dark skin stands out, this man is probably as inconspicuous an agent as my mother can come up with!” Anneli lectured the Canper with all the confidence of one well versed in the intricacies of court. Kozext seemed to mull this over alongside the Canper, before shrugging a haphazard surrender and launching into an explanation. “I didn't break your mailbox, Anneli. Surely you've guessed so! You’re as sharp as your mother, truly you are! How would your mother hear of the goings on in Ricongeraka, how indeed? If only we could secure a link, we'd be off this miserable island before sundown! We have very great hopes for you, Anneli. And besides, your mother has a very great fondness for you - it would be most unfitting if the malcontents who'd gotten a hold of me would get hold of you as well. As it is, they smashed your mailbox and tore your letters. Though I saw the little mail drone come dig something out of the sand when it made its nightly rounds. Now that's a clever machine! Too smart, eh? Smarter than most people around here!” Kozext laughed at this observation, but neither Anneli nor the Canper saw any humor in the statement. The Canper shot Anneli a knowing look. Had they a better rapport, perhaps she could've gleaned his exact meaning. Perhaps she could've handled an entire conversation through looks and glances alone. As it was, all she could deduce was that he had something he wished to say to her outside Kozext’s earshot. “Stay there for a moment, we have matters to discuss.” Anneli ordered Kozext with all the assurity of those who are accustomed to obedience from their surroundings. He narrowed his eyes at the request, but he soon acquiesced with a curt nod. The Canper all but hauled Anneli to a distant corner of the shore, a craggy nook hidden between cliffs and rocks. “Is this one of your bodyguards? If so, don't hide it from me with some cover story about some shadow court from Gidarda!” The Canper nearly yelled at her with misplaced rage. Anneli tore his hand from her shoulder, but otherwise retained a cool manner. “I'm not lying or obfuscating, could you really believe so? When have I been anything but frank with you? No, you haven't heard of my mother's court, and for good reason. The very fact that I know of it is somewhat of an embarrassment for them. To speak from the heart and not from the soul, this is the first undeniable proof of it I've seen.” The Canper squeezed his forehead in frustration, though whether this was at the new development or merely at Anneli's lyrical turn of phrase was unclear.  “Then he's another threat! Another unstable individual with nefarious motives and unsavory ends! We'll have to ditch him somehow, find another way of accessing your grandmother. Or maybe there'll be a boat we can swim out to or maybe-” the Canper started suggesting as he was cut off by Anneli. “No no, we'll do no such thing! I can't swim that far, and if I could I'd be such a shameful mess by the time we reached the boat that I'd rather die. Besides, whyever would you suppose this stranger is a threat of any kind? He claims he has some access to my mother, or maybe just her resources. Either way, chances are good we can leverage it to get off of Ricongeraka!” Anneli announced almost triumphantly. The Canper remained uneasy, and he found himself demanding a bit more of an explanation. “Who are these Gidardan exiles? Are they a shadow court of some sort, plotting to overthrow the house of Apogee? Or do they wish to embroil the empire in the Gidardan Quagmire, on the side of one warlord or another?” The Canper demanded, expecting much of a girl not yet having reached her majority. Anneli replied truthfully, for no other policy seemed advisable. “I don't know! I just told you, this is the first confirmation I've had that the court in exile even exists! To call them a court in exile supposes much, very much more than I know for certain! All I know is that my mother lost contact with her family very shortly after coming to Extabon to marry my father. Not a year later, Gidarda was in anarchy, a graver anarchy than any known in the history of two worlds. I couldn't tell you how bad it is because as a matter of principle the empire doesn't maintain even de jure diplomatic relations with any of the factions. Always there have been rumors that my mother had something to do with some part of Gidardan affairs, one way or the other. In truth, I've no idea - my mother won't say a word on the subject. But from what I gather, she was a popular figurehead of some sort before marrying my father. Ever have I imagined she was the glue holding the fragile parts together, but in truth I've no idea! There isn't really an official line on the story, since there isn't a story. My mother certainly wasn't responsible for Gidarda’s independent military, or for the racial caste system, or for the influx of refugees from Enxua, or for the constitutional imbalance between barons and judges, or for the bad blood between Gidarda and its neighbors. Really thinking about it, what could my mother possibly be planning? There's no one to overthrow the empire in favor of, there's no one to back in Gidarda, there's really nothing to be done but scour the whole country! And even then, what good would it do anyone? Let's put our paranoia aside and accept this offer of salvation for what it is. You have link access somewhere in your house, right? We'll contact my mother or this Gidardan organization surrounding her at the very least, and we'll be off Ricongeraka by tomorrow!” Anneli finished this speech with a wide gesture towards Kozext, somewhat ruined by the obscuring rocks which gave the nook its privacy. She walked out towards Kozext, the Canper straggling some ways behind, his gaze locked upon the distant horizon. “We don't even know his name…” he murmured. Anneli ignored him. “If we can access the link, how quickly could we be out of here?” Anneli hollered at Kozext, though she could've been heard perfectly well had she spoken calmly. Kozext's eyes gleamed at the suggestion, and a concentrated purpose animated him despite his obvious exhaustion. “Oh, within no more than a few hours, I'm sure. But there aren't any public ones in Nakotebo. And Autiola said… of course, the Canper!” Kozext said, locking his gaze on the Canper, still lolling towards him and Anneli at a leisurely pace. At length, the Canper joined them. His previous air of wary caution now replaced by a sheepish pensiveness. The cause of this change in demeanor soon became apparent: “Would you be able to hook a terminal up to the network?” He asked Kozext, refusing to meet his gaze all the while. Kozext grinned widely at the question. “Not to worry, so long as nothing’s broken I can get the system working in no time,” he answered. The Canper did not seem sufficiently relieved at this assurance, leading Anneli to suspect that perhaps he had broken something in his haste to pack up. But no more was said upon the subject as the trio walked upon the shore, back towards the high gate separating Nakotebo from this small royal holding. 

The warm wind blew sand and sound about. The sand got into people's shoes, slowing their rate of progress to that of the lazy shellclimbers and indolent shore turtles. The sounds were those of the sea, mingled with the haughty caws of the wild Talotau. To the unaccustomed, the effect was mesmerizing. Writers and poets had claimed to have experienced myriad epiphanies after exposure to such natural serenity. Hoards of tourists, from the empire and beyond, would seek out such places in vain hope of experiencing similarly vivid revelations. Anneli had heard of such disappointment, had heard dandies at court lament how they'd walked Ricongeraka’s shores in search of answers and come up empty. After long, lonely, boring months in Nakotebo, Anneli thought she knew the truth of the matter: the epiphanies came not from the ocean, but from the soul. Those writers and poets would’ve come up with something equally profound had they instead toured the lakes and mountains of Codan, the rolling hills of the Hettish heartland, the gargantuan docks of Amaseida and Extabon, or had they viewed the whole of Love from the vantage of a liner to Life. But the poets themselves always claimed some affinity for the sea, some special spark present only in Ricongeraka, and so fop after courtier after dandy combed the shores in vain. Once Anneli had come to this conclusion, she'd vacillated between blaming the poets to blaming the gullible audience. At that very moment, with the sand discomfiting her walk, and the steady rhythm of the ocean drowning out her thoughts, she felt ready to blame the lot for the grave crime of having leisure enough to ponder the question. She sought some refuge for her mind, and quickly landed on Kozext as her saviour. “What should I call you? The second person pronoun has done so far, but it'll fail should I ever have recourse to refer to you in some other context” Anneli addressed him glibly. The Canper made some huff of disapproval at this humorous phrasing, but Anneli found it prudent to ignore him. “Kozext” Kozext answered without pretense, somewhat to Anneli's surprise. His earlier obfuscation had led her to expect an argument, or at least resistance of some kind. Instead, her conversational handhold had crumbled, leaving her dangling. But in her proverbial flailing for purchase, she found unexpectedly solid ground to stand upon. “Kozext. That can't possibly be anyone's real name” Anneli began. Kozext seemed about to reply, until on second thought he realized Anneli was more interested in lecturing than in dialogue. “It’s a very strange choice. If I were writing a ballad about a Gidardan exile in Ricongeraka, I'd consider the name before ultimately discarding it for being rather on the nose. You seem confused. So, you weren't the one who chose the name, were you? It sounds obviously Hettel, what with the balanced vowels and explicit use of ‘Ext’. But it's also intended to sound exotically foreign, hence the uncharacteristic ‘K’ at the beginning of the word. You don't need to be a linguist to know Hettel words never start with a ‘K’ sound! Where did the name come from, then? It's from an old play. To call it ancient perhaps does a disservice to those scholars and artists through the ages who dedicated their lives to preserving the genuinely ancient and prehistoric. But to call it merely old is rather unfitting! Old is last decade, last century to the informed. The play I refer to falls in that awkward middle ground - older than anything in the public mind, but not so old as to require veneration of any sort. There are thousands of copies around, for it was written after the invention of the commercial press! The play is called “Gheshend’s visit”, and it was rather popular for a time. But there was nothing so revolutionary or outstanding within its lines to demand ongoing attention - it was last put on stage almost two centuries ago” Anneli said confidently. Whilst Kozext easily followed along, the Canper had become somewhat distracted by Anneli's tendency to pursue barely relevant tangents. “The play is about a servant who plots to kill his master's three rivals as they visit his mansion. Towards the end of the first act, these rivals arrive along with their manservants. The big twist is that each manservant has some special strangeness our would-be murderer must overcome. So, one is a Codan warrior, hell-bent on dueling our protagonist. The second is a priest from Extabon who wields sorcery to uncover any threat. And the third is Kozext, a noble savage from the unknown jungles of Ricongeraka. Whilst everyone else shuffles off stage from scene to scene, Kozext always retreats to the corner instead. No one addresses him, so I suppose he's meant to be hidden. The stage instructions are very clear on the point that he never goes off stage. This choice is paid off in one of the final scenes, where Kozext steps out of the shadows to address our protagonist just as he aims a rifle at Kozext's master. Kozext doesn't tell him he's wrong, or that he'll take revenge. Instead, he just asks his motives. Kozext is very philosophical throughout the exchange, but he ultimately fails in his persuasion, if persuasion is what he intended. Still, he distracts for long enough that his master goes elsewhere, none the wiser. I think it would be a marvelous scene to see on the big stage, very dramatic! The point is that the author of the play didn't know anything about Ricongeraka as he wrote it. So he just made up an exotic sounding name, but one near enough Hettel that the critics could read some symbolism in it. So no, Kozext isn't a real name! It's what a playwright who knows nothing about Ricongeraka thinks a Ricongerakan name sounds like!” Anneli finished with a grin. Her pace had quickened as she'd spoken, and her whole manner had been greatly enlivened by the opportunity to expound upon a topic she adored. This liveliness carried her all the way to the gate, which stood as imposing and solid as ever. For one last time, Anneli wondered how Kozext had made it past the jungle. Then she found herself walking the same familiar path where the sand made way for bricks, bricks made way for asphalt, and asphalt made way for the mad barbarity of Ricongeraka. Such a thought was usually tinged with a sense of irony, for in truth Nakotebo was home to some of the empire's most pampered and sheltered. But as the warm ocean wind died behind her, the idea of Ricongerakan savageness sat upon her mind as seriously as the idea of Codanese honor.

At first, Nakotebo seemed as silent as it had earlier in the day. Vehicles, be they two, four, or six wheeled were absent. Those few domestic animals Ricongerakans kept were shut up deep inside their mansions. And those mansions in turn failed to exude the lively noises of humdrum domestic bustle. To the trained ear however, there was a clear difference. The trained ear belonged to Kozext, who hadn't been around Nakotebo’s streets earlier, and so it took him longer than it might have to deduce that drama was in the air. “Is this the only way to your home?” He asked the Canper as they turned a corner. The Canper, distracted by all that had occurred, gave no coherent answer. Anneli, for her part, had become engrossed in reflection upon plays of that period three to four hundred years prior. She cast them in her mind’s eye, attaching the roles to the most famous and celebrated actors of the day. This activity itself afforded an additional layer of amusement for the sheer absurdity of imagining the overpaid and overly vain celebrities of Extabon taking part in obscurely archaic historical dramas. Kozext, having gotten no answer from either of his companions, strode forth with all the noble self-sacrifice of the old elephant determined to gore his poacher. “Well, if there isn't, we might just be better off turning back and holing up somewhere!” He announced plainly and undramatically as he blocked the way with his large frame. Until that moment, Anneli had not realized just how broad he was. The Canper, lost in troubled thought, walked right onto Kozext. He didn't quite stumble backwards as he shook himself from his depressive reverie. He seemed about to upbraid Kozext, before Kozext interrupted him by repeating his question. “Is there another way to your house? Because up ahead, two or three streets, is some large plaza, though it's not quite the town square. And I can hear the low murmur of gathered humanity coming from there. No, don't object, for I've seen this thing happen before. It's a large crowd, and it's quiet. That’s hard to achieve if you hold a bomb over a crowd’s head! They're being quiet, which means they choose to be quiet, and are shockingly well organized to succeed at it so well. That's possible only if the people are part of some elite commando unit. Or…” Kozext paused, though nothing had interrupted him. It was only when he stopped talking that Anneli realized just how quietly Kozext had spoken. Kozext continued, his whisper barely audible. “Or it means they're in some deep religious trance. Don't quibble over the terminology, it's religious, for all that said religion might be atheistic; it's the same thing as the annual conference in Enxua. So, I suggest we avoid these people for all our skin’s worth!” Kozext, bereft of loudness as a source of emphasis, conveyed the importance of this last point by a broad gesture at his heart. “It's a bit of a detour, but we could cut north east and pace the cliff path. It's invisible to the rest of Nakotebo, what with the cliff on one side and a row of houses on the other” the Canper suggested. He met no objection, and so led the way for a short while. Anneli followed, but a question repeated itself in her heart with the regularity of its beat: hadn't Vanenuell spoken of an evening event? When had things been reorganized? Or was she being toyed with somehow?

The cliff path was beset by shadows. There were the shadows of the houses and shadows from strange stone outcrops further up the cliff face. Each shadow seemed primed to jump out at them, to devour some portion of their resolve. Anneli's mind couldn't form the words to express just what it was she feared. For the first time, the icy edge of panic crept into her thoughts. For the first time, the danger she faced was more than the mere phantasms of an overexcited mind. As the path continued, the background noise slowly grew louder, eventually distinguishing itself as distinctly human. The sound fell somewhere between guttural gurgling and a low hum, or perhaps a chant. For all that it couldn't have been made by anything but a group of humans, the sound was beastly monstrosity manifest. The desire to break the tension with some wry observation or off hand remark was barely kept in check by Anneli's newly found fear. At length, they neared the Canper's house, having circled most of Nakotebo. Anneli thought of the town as rather small and easily navigable, but having taken the cliff path with a goal other than idle wandering, Nakotebo's true circumference became apparent. In part the journey’s length was a function of Nakotebo’s jagged perimeter; the cliff path jutted in and out with the haphazard extensions people added to their back yards, and with the natural curve of overgrown brush, too sturdy to clear by those construction crews sent to clear the path. Still, Anneli reflected that Nakotebo's population was somewhere over twenty thousand. Whilst this was a tiny fraction of those cities she was accustomed to, at that moment it was clear it was more than enough to threaten her safety. This worry sat foremost in her mind as they cleared the final house. To their right was the street upon which the Canper's house stood. Not three paces ahead was the forest. From maps and photos and tours of the cliffs above, Anneli knew that the forest stretched back round this final street, allowing for access through unguarded back entrances if one were brave enough to traverse it. The idea that this might be safer than treading the street intruded into Anneli's mind, and she struggled to dismiss it. Kozext blocked the way forward, and Anneli suspected that he followed a similar train of thought. He had yet to reach a decision when the Canper took it upon himself to act. Though he still wore his layman's clothing, he strode forwards with the self assured gait of a proud Canper. There was no time for Anneli to ponder the decision; she and Kozext both found themselves following the Canper with their heads held high. Nobody stopped them because nobody was there. 

The Canper's house was just as it had been left. Bare walls and bare floors left the corridors feeling more like those of a school or office than those of a private domicile. The Canper led the way to a small room, at the end of a spoke, wherein lay a tangle of wires and switches. Appalled shock flashed across Kozext's face for the briefest of moments.  He mastered himself in less than a moment, and was soon quizzing the Canper about a bevy of technical details, most of which he couldn't provide. Undeterred, Kozext ordered the Canper to retrieve the terminal itself. The Canper scurried off energetically, leaving Anneli alone in Kozext's presence for the first time. The silence was cold and uncompanionable. Kozext busied himself by muttering curses, at himself and at the world. Anneli tried to pick up the meaning, and found herself less successful than she might've hoped; Kozext used a fluid mixture of Hettel, Shanbila, Gidardov, and two more languages Anneli thought were from Enxua. The Hettel and Shanbila were easy enough to follow on their own, but the transition between them, alongside the unfamiliar foreign phrases, made the whole thing a soupy mess she could make neither heads nor tails of. The Canper returned shortly, waving the large oblong shape of a link terminal. Kozext grabbed the hulking machine zealously. At first there reigned a true silence as Kozext frantically connected wires. But it didn't take long for the curses to ramp up again, and soon enough he surpassed his previous efforts. Anneli left Kozext to his work. She paced the corridor repeatedly, from the central lobby to the small link room at its end. “What would grandmother tell me to do?” Anneli again and again whispered to the walls. Unsurprisingly, the barren walls gave no reply. “Hadn't you better ask what your grandmother would do?” The Canper eventually asked, having overheard her one too many times to politely ignore her words. No reply came to mind, and distracted as she was she quickly forgot the Canper had raised the question. Kozext’s slow progress was punctuated by the occasional shout of triumph as something clicked into place, subsequently followed by continued murmurings of displeasure. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally a light on the terminal panel flashed green. Kozext whooped with delight. The Canper recited a prayer. Anneli gazed on in morbid curiosity. As eager as she was for salvation from Ricongeraka, that it came about through the link was nearly enough to offset her relief. 

It didn't take long for something to go wrong. Somewhere inside, Anneli had expected something to go wrong. She'd feared Kozext had overstated the insidious reaches of her mother's shadow court. She'd feared those existing agents had been rounded up. She'd feared the Canper had irreversibly damaged his link infrastructure. Most of all, she'd feared Kozext was simply a madman of some sort; that his insinuations about her mother were invented whole cloth, and that in her distress she had turned to conspiratorialism to fit the pieces together. As he had proved technically adept and otherwise sound of mind, this last fear seemed truly put to rest. This had the unsettling implication that her mother indeed ran some apparatus parallel to the official state one. But Anneli had more immediate worries, namely those Kozext was currently expounding upon between bouts of vulgar expletives. “They've cut off communication somehow! That shouldn’t be possible, no matter how deep they dig! This station is top of the line, connected by the new propagator array! There must've been some serious strings pulled to get it hooked up this way, and it's not working!” Kozext explained before swearing some more. Something about this renewed tirade of vulgarity stuck out to Anneli - it was entirely in Hettel. Though this piqued her curiosity a great deal, she knew it was not the time to pursue the topic. Instead she cut to the chase. “What's different about this connection? Something in how we’re connected to the rest of the link?” Anneli hazarded this vague conjecture with some pride in her technical prowess. Kozext swiftly affirmed her misplaced confidence. “Most terminals are connected by a series of underground wires. Like the ones in the old phone system, before that got shut down. Some parts of the link might even use those old connections! Those old things are unreliable at best, so if you can afford it you'll hook up to the propagator network instead. Only Nakotebo doesn't have any propagators! What Nakotebo has is the royal astronomical research facility. Those silver probes in the sky? Well, just as they send their observations back to the research facility, they can also forward link data! It all gets propagated back to the facility, where the central antenna connects to the rest of the link through satellites. It's the fastest, most foolproof link setup I've ever seen, and it’s only possible by hijacking government infrastructure. And it's been jammed somehow!” Kozext lectured tersely. Anneli thought the whole setup sounded far less reliable than just some cables in the ground. Then she remembered the fate of the old phone system. Still, she was more confused than enlightened, at least with regards to the technical aspect of things. “How much can you see?” Anneli betrayed her ignorance by asking. “Nothing!” was the answer. “Oh there are some tiny snippets stored here on the terminal, but it's just the cache. Nothing newer than when the device was connected this morning. We certainly can't use this to communicate with anyone!” Kozext went on, more angry than desperate. He then turned back to the terminal and tapped away frantically. A minute of silence followed before Kozext spoke once again: “communication is up between us and the facility. Which means the facility itself is disconnected. So either every satellite in orbit has crashed, or there's been some sabotage here on the ground!” Anneli's stomach dropped as she heard this. She turned around and left the room to pace the hallway. Her brain performed some mockery of an acrobatic act, twisting itself into knots in the fruitless ambition of devising a plan that avoided a confrontation. It seemed not entirely deluded to hope that the mob might have left the facility alone after smashing whatever it was they smashed that disconnected the link. It took about twenty minutes, but she'd almost succeeded in deluding herself into believing that they could just sneak into the facility, get the system fixed, and call for help. But she hadn't the opportunity to propose her plan before Kozext and the Canper both stormed towards her, determined in their step. “We lost communication with the facility five minutes ago. The propagators are all still up, so that means the facility itself is under attack. Staying here will do us no good!” the Canper explained hastily. Anneli was all but carried by the pair as they soldierly marched towards the door. She didn't resist, but her cooperation lacked enthusiasm. “What's the plan then? Is there another way to contact your people?” Anneli asked. Kozext squeezed his head between forefinger and thumb as he made a non-committal gesture with his head. “We'll make the trek to Amaseida. It shouldn't be too difficult, there are many opportunities to catch a stray train. Only we'll have to move quickly, before the whole system collapses in on itself. But once we're in Amaseida there'll be a wealth of link connections, and a royal garrison to boot. So, Amaseida! Are there any secret ways out of town?” Kozext said, addressing his question to the Canper. The Canper seemed about to answer. He thought better of it when he saw Anneli's smouldering rage. “Flee to Amaseida by foot? That'll be the end of me! I can't make a trek like that, certainly not without any preparations! ‘If all men must come to some end, let our end be won, not lost!’ and Ricongeraka is not yet lost! There has been no rebellion, no breakdown, not yet! We do not yet stand amid the ruins of a new Gidarda! We need not be the opening act of a new reconciliation either!” Anneli announced gravely. There was something of comic self deprecation in her bombastic mode of speech, and yet it was clear she meant every word. Faced with a princess of the house of Apogee asserting her authority, Kozext and the Canper could do nought but obey, or listen at the very least. “We'll walk to the facility. Yes, we'll walk, we won't dare to run!

‘They walked amid the ashen dust. 

They'd blown away the hopes of sun. 

For all the wild, creeping danger, 

Never had they thought to run!’

Are we criminals or traitors, to fear the crowds and the open sky? No! We are Canper and princess and citizen! We have done no wrong, and we shall act accordingly! If we face the crowds in that manner, they will back down! And if they have broken our only access to the link, we shall demand someone take us directly to Amaseida in whatever luxurious mode of transport they can muster!” Anneli proclaimed. She carried the rhythmic sing-song of the poem into the rest of her prose. For all that it was a rather inappropriate mannerism, it had the effect of further separating Anneli from the reality around her. It was as if she was not a minor princess, far in line from the throne and near in station to any number of nobles, but a being of elevated spirit; she was an ambassador from on high, whose merits and opinions were of such a superior nature as to dismiss all small human fears and ambitions of those around her. Kozext straightened out in an attempt to bear his disheveled clothing with a measure of dignity. The Canper begged leave for a moment to don his cloak and feathers. He returned adorned with not just his ceremonial dress, but his scepter as well. He rightly feared that Anneli might disapprove of a vestment so similar to that of the royal house, but he met with no resistance. Side by side, with Anneli in the center, the three boldly strode out the front door. 

They were met by a street rather similar to that which they'd left an hour earlier. The watchful eye might've noticed how shadows had shifted with the movement of the sun, or how Life and War stood clearer upon the pale sky. The watchful ear had an easier time of things, for the mob’s presence could now be made out by their echoing shouts and hollers. A city of skyscrapers might've blunted these noises by geometry alone, or perhaps drowned them out in the humdrum drone of regular activity. Nakotebo, with its peripheral mansions and large middle class center, had no such defences; the cries and shouts of the crowd, unshackled by fear of judgement or scorn, reached from the facility all the way to outside the Canper's house at Nakotebo’s edge. By gradual acceleration and egged on by righteous fury, Anneli soon found herself closing in on her target. Kozext, swept up in Anneli's fervor, tried some light encouragement. “It's good that they've broken their silence. If they'd stayed so disciplined for over an hour I… well I don't know what I'd think, it’d be astounding” he faltered in the realization he hadn't been at all encouraging. He rallied, undaunted. “Which means this is just a mob like any other. And most mobs break up after nothing more than looting! Since there's nothing around but their own homes, even that ought to be kept to a minimum. They're probably dissolving already!” Anneli was hopeful that just such an outcome might be encountered, but she did not expect it. Suddenly, with the same predictable suddenness of the moment of sunrise, they were no longer alone. At the end of the street, between a broad leafy tree and the sloped roof of a market stall, there loitered some surly young vigilantes. Anneli assessed their ages as barely above her own. They leaned on the tree trunk and spat at the sloped roof, occasionally hitting, but usually falling short of the mark; the street corner looked disgusting, even from a distance. They only noticed the group’s approach when Anneli was near enough to look them in the eyes. There she saw a vein of fear, buried deep under nihilistic boredom and the haze of nabach. A quick glance confirmed that they had been spitting their chewed wads earlier. No flash of recognition showed in any of their gazes, even as they neared enough to touch. Anneli was neither offended nor surprised at her own lack of recognition, but she felt somewhat insulted on the Canper's part. But he showed no anger. Instead he placed a hand on one of their shoulders. It was not a placating or fatherly gesture - his grip was firm and painful, and he made sure to squeeze the joints against each other. The pain was enough to jolt the vagrant from his drug induced serenity, at least enough to draw his attention. Feebly he clambered at the Canper's arm, but was neither forceful nor dexterous in the attempt. “What are you doing here?” The Canper asked. “Sod off” came the slurred reply. A repeated squeeze drew out a yelp of pain. Comrades to the last, the gathered delinquents laughed at their compatriot’s discomfort. It didn't take long for the kid to crack. “What are we doing where?” he asked, more confused than obstinate. “Why is that a question? There's hours until evening. When that time comes, you and your fellow votaries of degeneracy will be free to pursue your addiction. Until that hour, you had better stay occupied in some more fruitful pursuit - might I suggest attending your classes?” The Canper assiduously scolded. This remonstrance was met with a series of confused counterarguments from the whole group: 

“Who do you think you are, old man?” 

“My father said he didn't need school and that I don't either!”

“No one else is at school right now! No one's anywhere but the gathering!”

“This is just what Ricongerakans have always done, you rat bastard! Go back to Hetland if you want to work all day!”

“Get your hand off me already!” 

Kozext nodded approvingly at the Canper's stern conduct. “Good man! Let me try though. If your feathers won't impress them, maybe these fools aren't worth impressing” he told the Canper. Kozext didn't wait for approval before starting. “How long have you been chewing nabach?” He addressed one of those still leaning  on the tree. “It starts to wear thin after a while, unless you've got a quality strain, grown in the right soil.” The target of this exposition barely registered the fact he was being spoken to. Neither angry nor provoked, Kozext stepped up to him, looked his face up and down, then plucked a long strand of blonde hair from his head. He performed the motion cleanly, but had somehow twisted the movement so as to cause maximum pain. The blonde youth yelped pathetically as his hand shot to his head to assess the damage. There being no injury to caress, he instead turned his angry attention towards Kozext. “Thin? You trying to sell something thick to us?” He asked. “Only as thick as your skull! Why aren't you at the gathering?” Kozext countered with acid mirth. Confusion stole upon his victim’s features. “What? Why did you start with talking about nabach? What are you, a cop?” He said warily. The two other youths, untouched by both Kozext and the Canper, found the whole ordeal immensely amusing. They showed this amusement by bursting out with great peels of laughter at each remark of the exchange, no matter how banal. At this last question though, one of the two, a short boy with extravagantly long hair and a shirt so thin and sleeveless it barely warranted the name, spoke up. “No cop’s gonna arrest you for that right now! Not unless he's from Hetland, in which case he'll arrest you whatever you do!” Laughter immediately returned to the pair, perhaps at the thought that Kozext was from Hetland. Anneli seized on the opening. “An officer of the law, near or far from its source, must discharge his duty with all due haste. Friends and rivals, family and strangers, they must stand before him equal and fair. Let him be small and petty when he is but a man. But when he is an instrument of higher power, he is a monolith! So tell me, why would an officer of the law, whatever his birth, fail to arrest you for chewing nabach in a public space?” Anneli chanted at the bewildered youth. Her speech hadn't rhymed, hadn't followed an exact metre, yet it flowed with a steadiness of rhythm beyond that of typical oration. The short boy cowered in a mixture of confusion and shame, all the more pathetic for his drug-addled state. Unlike the other two, no one found this misfortune funny. Instead, all four looked about themselves in baffled embarrassment. “He didn't mean anything by it! That's just what they said at the standing!” the blonde youth said in his friend’s defence. Anneli turned her imperial attention upon him, the slight tightening of her eyebrows signaling the most intense suspicion. “They? Who are these ‘they’ to call a standing of all Nakotebo?” Anneli asked. The answer she got was neither pleasing nor entirely edifying. “Huh? Whoever calls standings. Some shirtless old guys? A long sleeved weirdo?” he said, heedless of the length of Anneli's sleeves, comically long by Ricongerakan standards. Anneli felt herself above taking offence at this unintended slight. “Know then, that only the Canper may call Ricongeraka to attention in such a manner as has been done. Point, dull knave, point me towards those who thus transgress! Point me towards these villains and traitors!” Anneli demanded. Sheepish and confused, and still rather high, the short boy pointed vaguely in the facility's direction. “They went about that way when we broke off. Something about smashing the blight from Hetland. But we didn't care so we left early…” he explained apologetically until his eyebrows shot up in sudden realization: “Yeah! We left that bastard standing, just like we were supposed to!” He finished proudly. Anneli nodded approvingly, though all seven of them knew that legality and propriety had nothing to do with it. Without further ado, Anneli, Kozext, and the Canper continued their leisurely procession towards the facility. 

Anneli's assessment of Nakotebo's resolve had proved correct, at least for a while. Though the streets were filled with all manner of hooligans, they readily made way for Anneli's presence. The Canper grew cheerier as they closed in on the focus of the action. The shouts grew louder and more coherent, and as it grew worse he adopted an ever more righteous anger. By the time the facility was in view, he was swatting angrily at anyone that came in range. He had taken Anneli's statement about the usurpation of his office to heart, and found himself enraged at the prospect. “When have I failed you?” He shouted as he struck. “What is the charge? In what aspect of my office have I been found lacking?” Anneli smiled at this newfound confidence. For a moment she pondered whether such a forceful attitude might have held Nakotebo in check. She dismissed the thought as irrelevant for the time being, though it was the kind of thing her grandmother would have lots to say about. The observation probes that remained in the sky seemed lonely and limp with so many of their companions missing. Still, their fate was better than that of the fallen; rocks and clubs, sticks and slings, had pelted these unfortunate silver spheres until they'd given out. Now they lay in smouldering heaps of burning metal and acrid, toxic smoke. Anneli felt certain there was a metaphor to be squeezed out of the situation, but couldn't fit the pieces together into anything coherent. She hadn't the time to ponder the issue any further, for she had reached the gates of the facility.

The gate was not a massively imposing presence at the best of times. Its height was not triple hers, and its steel bars were neither thick nor densely packed. A thin coating of barbed wire covered its top and ran round the thick stone wall which surrounded the rest of the facility. Thanks to an inane architectural trend that had been around when the place was built a decade prior, the stones comprising the wall were anything but uniform. Instead, they were of a most heterogeneous composition; large and small, smooth and rough, rectangular and triangular. This motley assemblage could be utilized as handholds by any enterprising climber intent on breeching in. The task seemed daunting to Anneli, but she supposed that if one could climb the cliff faces surrounding Nakotebo, a wall was no obstacle. Neither was the barbed wire for that matter; ladders had been lowered by those brave pioneers who’d taken it upon themselves to scale the heights. Now pudgy old men and scantily clad old women danced atop the walls, alongside dumb kids smoking short pipes and dumber adults encouraging their behavior. Most all were adorned as they had been back at the library: half naked and wildly masked. The barbed wire hadn't been removed, it had simply failed to deter anyone - Anneli felt certain another metaphor was there. 

In all her disgust, Anneli was relieved to see the crowd’s disorder. No organized resistance formed to block her way, not even as she turned her master key in the gate’s lock. Once inside, she ordered Kozext to close the gate behind them. His lips puckered in disapproval, but he did as he was told without audible complaint. The facility's campus was rather unimpressive: a cobbled path ran round the central building, surrounded by a patchy assemblage of Hettish plants and flowers. The building seemed constructed from children's toys; a hexagon for the base, a square for the middle, and a spherical dome dotted with antennas and instruments to top it off. The contrast between the whole enterprise and the rest of Nakotebo was almost startling. Had the place not been partially aflame and under attack, Anneli would've found this juxtaposition the most shocking thing in Nakotebo. Anneli hadn't spent too long outside the older areas of the various cities she'd visited and habituated, and so it was with hope rather than confidence that she assured herself that such architecture was some flash in the pan aberration, rather than the norm for new construction. “I see no ringleader, no center of command,” Kozext commented with wary optimism. “There doesn't seem to be any damage to the main antenna, so it's just the internal system that's been vandalized. Worst comes to worst, we drag up a terminal and connect to it directly!” 

For all the strangeness of the building’s sharp edges and blocky angles, the first floor at least was similar in design to a typical Ricongerakan home. The central lobby was somewhat oversized, the corridors were shorter and less airy, and the rooms closer to the center; yet it seemed unmistakably Ricongerakan. Occupying the large lobby was another element Anneli thought unmistakably Ricongerakan: a mob surrounding a blazing inferno. At first glance, the scene was nearly identical to the one at the library: there were strange tattoos and ugly bodies, wooden masks and tribal chants. But upon careful reflection Anneli noticed two key differences: the lack of books, and the lack of birds. The lack of books was unsurprising, for the facility was not a library. The lack of birds was a strange anomaly, one Anneli hadn't the bandwidth to contemplate. Instead, she and Kozext cast their sights in search of a staircase. The Canper was too distracted by the fire to contribute. He gazed at it half longingly, though Anneli couldn't fathom what he might be longing for. Eventually, stairs were located and climbed uneventfully. All throughout, the trio remained unharassed, even ignored. The second storey seemed much the same as the first in terms of design, only the roof was lower and the lobby smaller. There was the additional lack of inferno to differentiate the stories, which Anneli found strange - if the mob thought a fire on one floor was a good idea, surely they didn't draw the line at the second? Anneli failed to consider the structural ramifications of such a course of action, but surely the mob had no more concern for or knowledge of civil engineering. And indeed, far from flaming, the floor was smooth and slippery with the water of fire control systems. “What's the difference? How would they know to disable the sprinklers on the first floor but not on the second?” Anneli scoffed aloud. It was not the sort of comment to merit a reply. Accordingly, it got none, not from Kozext or the Canper at least. The answer was revealed by a shirtless, maskless man, his bare back and chest criss crossed with a panoply of scars. He was frantically smashing the buttons of a small device, seemingly without success in its activation. Despite the general clamour and chaos, Anneli's loud, confident step was enough to alert him. He turned his gaze on the group, suspicion and wariness writ large on his sunburned features. His eyes widened in recognition, just as Kozext leapt forward, intent on punching his nose in. “Vaugril!” Kozext roared in anger. Anneli assumed this was a traditional Gidardan war cry, but she was wrong; it was an insult in classical Shanbila, translating roughly to “worthless scum”, though with more traditionally expletive connotations than such a tame translation implies. The Kenptititi warrior barely had the time to glare angrily at the insult before Kozext was upon him. 

Kozext succeeded in caving his antagonist’s nose in. Despite this triumph, the warrior remained on his feet. For the briefest moment, the warrior stood motionless as he contemplated his options. The opening thus afforded was large enough for Kozext to land an additional blow upon his bare frame. It was to prove the last such easy victory; the warrior sidestepped Kozext's next thrust, though he made no attempt to strike back. Instead he jumped back and made it as if to draw a weapon from his belt. He had no belt and no weapon, but deeply ingrained instinct meant Kozext still reacted as if he had. He rolled to his right, leaving him further isolated from Anneli and the Canper. Kozext noticed his mistake, and noticed too how the warrior hadn't used the opening to either advance or retreat. A motley gaggle of Nakotebans stood in the long corridor behind him. He seemed to be angling himself so as to be maximally visible to this group. And yet there was nearer aid should that have been his purpose. He crouched in combat readiness, his eyes darted left and right, and Anneli could only conclude that he was still planning. “Kozext! Come back!” Anneli called “Look how many friends he has!” She gestured widely at the masked Nakotebans. The second floor was not nearly as exciting as the first, with its imposing indoor plants and beautifully frail Hettish sculptures; it was bare and austere, full of dull scientific equipment and technical laboratories. The crowd was accordingly less dense, but if the warrior could draw them to him he'd have Kozext outnumbered a hundred to one. Anneli was certain that was the warrior’s plan, though he didn't act the part: he didn't scream or gesture, nor did he run for aid. He remained nearly static, barely more animated than the sculptures on the first floor. Anneli could only assume he was thinking, planning, or waiting for a signal of some kind. Kozext leaped back into action, heedless of Anneli's warning. Despairing of the endeavor, she instructed the Canper to aid her in search of a route to the roof. What she planned to do once she found such an escape was unclear even to her, but it was better than gaping as Kozext and the warrior bloodied each other. Their search drew them away from the staircase and towards a large stained glass window that ran across the facility's north edge. The Canper's presence was reassuring, but his aid was sorely lacking. He was intent on observing every minutiae of his wayward flock. There was a profound tragedy in his deep amber eyes, as if he wished to sing dirges and mourning ballads, if only he knew the words. For all that he was powerless, even emasculated, he cut a noble figure as he stood tall and straight in his cloak and feathers. Anneli appreciated the striking image, but would've preferred he do some more rigorous searching. She was to prove disappointed, for no time for searching of any kind remained; Parrot and Eskagi, followed by seven bare chested Kenptititi warriors, had climbed the staircase Anneli had so recently evacuated. 

Parrot’s demeanor was that of giddy euphoria verging on the hysterical. Beady crow-like eyes shone wider and rounder than a full War in the night sky. Eskagi stood two steps behind her, a most awkward figure in the full light of day. Jutting angles and mismatched limbs, so charmingly mysterious in the romantic light of stars and worlds, proved no more than disconcerting in the harshness of a room well lit by modern lighting. The warriors were impassive, as stolidly neutral as they'd been the previous night. Eskagi found the constancy in demeanor strangely disconcerting. Had he known professional soldiers, he'd have seen the similarity in impassiveness. As he had no point of reference, their continued calm composure painted them in a strange, nearly alien light. Worse than alien, for surely the average resident of Life would be more tractable. It was not that they were hyper efficient, ultra logical killing machines. They simply obeyed Parrot without emotion or question, although Eskagi still knew nothing of their official hierarchy. For all he knew, Parrot truly was senior to these men. 

“She's here! And he's here! Don't you see, the green dwarf was right! I was right, all along!” Parrot cooed triumphantly. Her bold victorious gestures nearly clipped Eskagi’s ear, though he hadn't the remaining constitution to object. “Get the people up here! We want an audience, as full and patriotic as can be!” Eskagi glanced around nervously, unsure whether to obey Parrot's command. His hesitance saved him the trouble, for four Kenptititi broke away to fulfill Parrot's aim. Confused and discomfited, Eskagi surveyed the second floor in search of his hated Canper. His eyes scanned the bare metal walls, the wet floor, the overturned furniture, and the smashed equipment. Despite the ruin, white light emanating from the ceilings remained. The unnaturally harsh shadows cast about by geometry and persons tinted the scene in ghoulish contrast. The only exception was the northern wall standing to his left. Angled sunlight streamed through the blue stained glass, adorning its purview in a starlike glow. There Anneli stood, the Canper by her side. He was surprised to discover how plainly unpleasant her features were to his Ricongerakan taste. The eyes seemed too far apart, set under eyebrows too thin and lashes too short. Her face seemed comically round, her ears impossibly small, her hair unwieldy in its length. He was well aware these were all typically Hettish features, and he recoiled at them. No wonder Parrot found Hetland so disagreeable! Eskagi was comforted to see the Canper dressed in his formal robes and feathers. “Better he was a coward to the last!” Parrot hissed at him, low and conspiratorial as if they were still in hiding. Eskagi recoiled at the comment, not so much for its contents, but at how Parrot seemed to anticipate where his attention was turned. “He is still a Canper, better he dies with dignity!” Eskagi shot back. Parrot ignored his remark; she stepped over a puddle and strode towards Anneli with the confidence of an executioner coming to deliver justice. Anneli neither recoiled nor ran; she scanned Parrot up and down, then turned her gaze towards the far end of the lobby where Kozext and the warrior still grappled. Seeing there would be no salvation, she squared up to meet whatever Parrot tried to throw at her. She was thrown for a loop when Parrot stopped well away from her, between a pile of torn posters and a heap of now scrap metal. Anneli was further confused when Parrot addressed the growing crowd, funneled upstairs by the Kenptititi warriors. Anneli's bewilderment was completed by Parrot's choice to target not her, but the Canper.

“Nakotebo! See where you Canper stands! He follows like a servant! Worse, like a slave. Does he approve of us today? Does he disapprove? He won't say, for he sees no need to face you! He funnels himself through gracious princess Anneli! He speaks with her voice, he commands her commands!” Parrot’s shrill voice echoed to the crowds. There was a hunger in her tone and in her eyes, a hunger for the crowd to join in her cry of anguish. More than anything, Parrot wanted Nakotebo to shout alongside her. More than anything, Eskagi wanted to sulk. The whole day had gotten far out of control far too quickly. They had agreed that assassinating the Canper in the night would only pull in troops, and would only make him a martyr. Eskagi had been on the verge of retreating from the whole affair when Bejkali suggested an open protest. It seemed the logical course of action, one which would drive out the Canper, force his vile treachery out before the crowd. Only, if he spoke well, then killing him would make him that much more of a martyr. Nevertheless, such had been the plan. Eskagi had been shocked at how easily Nakotebo was roused to action. He too had been swept up in the silence of the standing and the destruction of the foreign icons. But all throughout the confusion, Eskagi had felt somewhat betrayed. Why hadn't the Canper shown up at midday? What was the point of plain rioting? When he stopped to think the matter over, he could not help concluding that he had been deceived somehow; that the goal of the day was not to bring the Canper to justice, but to bring Nakotebo, and by extension Ricongeraka, into open rebellion. The plan had seemed tenuous from the start: launch a protest, draw out the Canper, inflame the mob until they butchered him. It was the kind of scene one heard of from Gidarda, and perhaps back during the troubled days of Enxua. But upon further reflection, it was hard to imagine such behavior from Nakotebo. That matters had progressed as fast as they had, that Nakotebo had so fain taken umbrage at the imperial yoke, was a jolt to Eskagi's patriotism. 

Parrot spoke on, and Eskagi marveled that no interruption had occurred. It was not the first time Parrot had exhibited some unusual propensity or skill at oration, but it was the first time Eskagi knew of that there was a real chance of failure. “Hetland promises respect and freedom. Hetland promises each subject land that their laws and customs will be respected. Hetland even has the grace to allow its subjects to choose their own oppressors! No threat to Hetland, with Canpers like this and representatives mired in the sludge of Extabon politics” Parrot said to the crowd. Eskagi found her arguments more cogent than usual, which in truth was reason for concern. All he had seen and learned had taught him that Parrot's usual shrill manner was the more effective when dealing with a general crowd. Points of constitutional propriety were difficult to get across in a manner as to arouse general fervor. She was doing a respectable job of it, but he wondered if she might not be losing the crowd. He gauged the crowd for their reaction. The crowd had grown considerably, what with the warriors funneling it upstairs. By now there were hundreds, perhaps over a thousand, in the small lobby. This was not so large a number in comparison to earlier gatherings, but it was enough so as to impede steady progress and to stifle the air with the stench of massed mammalian breath. Despite Eskagi's worries, the crowd seemed properly riled up. He could not in good faith ascribe this mood to Parrot's stirring speech. Rather, they were coasting off inertia: they had been angry before, and now they were amassed as a righteous blade to strike terror into the hearts of the hated oppressors. All that was left was to point them towards said hated oppressors. Eskagi's attention lapsed as Parrot's drivel washed over him. He considered that perhaps this was the way of Nakotebo after all. For what was Nakotebo but its people? And for all that Parrot and the dwarf and the Kenptititi were outsiders and disturbances to the natural rhythm, they had come to Nakotebo. And Nakotebo now played along with them. After all, though the rock is usually carved by the stream, it is at times carved by the storm instead.

“And here he stands before us, silent even now. Even at this very moment, he hopes for salvation from her he should scorn. Is that the way of the Talotau or the Tiger?” Parrot shouted to the crowd. Anneli paid only half a mind to the contents of her words. Once she had recovered from the initial shock at the vituperation’s target, it became clear that there was not much more said than had been said back in the school. What surprised Anneli was the heightened emotion such words had been able to evince. Time and again, her grandmother had assured her that people as a whole cared very little about the minor minutiae of constitution and precedent. Yet here seemed a shining counterexample! Her emotions heightened and her judgement hazy, Anneli hastily concluded that if she could only present a convincing counterargument, the crowd might quiet down. In her mind's eye the possibility crystalized into certainty: she would speak cogently, then the crowd would realize how silly they were and disperse sheepishly. Then Kozext would come back from wherever he'd gotten himself to, fix the communication link, and call for help. She looked at the Canper for reassurance. Unlike her he had listened, spellbound by every word. Anneli waited a moment for Parrot to finish her insipid speech. “And what has he to say for himself? Which hero or spirit can he call upon now that it is demanded of him?” Parrot finished with a screeching roar. Anneli glanced at the Canper once more. She took his nod for one of assent to her plan. This writ acquired, she spoke to the crowd. 

“Honorable men and women of Nakotebo! I am Princess Anneli Endonter, ninth in line to head the house of Apogee. Four years ago, I took upon myself to encounter and consider the troubles of the empire's youth. Eight months ago I came to fair Nakotebo to better learn Ricongeraka’s wants and concerns. There was much for me to see and learn, for I had known only the walled gardens of Hetland’s Extabon and the pompous stages of Codan’s Saejen. And when it came time to learn the ways of Ricongeraka, I was sent not to your grand capital of Waydaub, but here, to the Nakotebo crescent. For truly, one cannot know a proud nation by its capital. For a capital shall ever be a hub, a cosmopolitan mixture of many people and many nations. Surely, Nakotebo reflects all that is good in Waydaub and none of that which is not” Anneli began. She took great care to purge any hint of sarcasm from her voice. As far as the crowd knew, she meant every word. “It is a great mark in Ricongeraka’s favor that you are slow to anger and quick to forgive; that you are not so caught up in your honor and pride. Knowing this, your complaints must be most deep and serious to warrant so violent an outburst. And if you see fit to calm yourselves, I shall hear all, as I have heard so many lesser complaints before. And know too that no line has been crossed, no people have died, and as yet no real damage has been done to anyone. There is still time to forgive, there is still time to forget, and there is all the time in this world to fix what is broken!” 

The crowd physically swayed. Anneli was not so vain as to believe she had reformed them in such a perfunctory manner. Besides that, people do not typically sway when their opinion changes. Rather, they physically swayed because of some physical disturbance completely divorced from Anneli's speech. The Canper seized upon the momentary confusion to address his people. “Friends! The world is a larger and scarier place than Canpers have ever known. More than ever, it is a great struggle to retain the secrets of the Tianyug and maintain the nobility of the Talotau bird. It is good to care deeply about these things - they are what make us Nakotebo! They are our rebuke to the insidious lure of wise ancestors and ancient law” here he gestured towards Parrot and her Kenptititi companions. Anneli didn't quite understand the point he was making, but some in the crowd nodded appreciatively. “Know that your voice has been heard, and it is good you spoke! Better yet that you spoke with your actions, better yet that you spoke with true passion! I will do all in my power to return the Tianyug to their purchase. And if this means turning away great trading vessels blasting their ghastly lights into the dark, and if this means negotiating with every town thirty miles inland, I shall do it! Nakotebo shall do it!” He raised his arms and spread his feathers as he spoke, as if he were a grand Talotau bird, and the crowd mere chicks. 

For a long moment, he stood there in serene majesty. Anneli only regretted that he had not been so assertive in the past. Her hopes had been vindicated, her ambitions fulfilled; now the crowd would disperse, and all would be right in the world. Only the crowd didn't disperse, nor did their agitation decrease. The crowd groaned in confusion as it swelled outwards, suddenly fuller than it had been. Impossibly, Anneli suddenly noticed that a portion of the crowd was properly clothed. She was certain this had not been the case when she'd spoken. If this was an opportunity, it was one Anneli hadn't the mental agility to make use of; a familiarly scarred man had erected a podium for himself, and he spoke to the crowd. Anneli had no doubt his voice was amplified somehow, for how else could he have overwhelmed the chaotic murmurings of gathered humanity? “Meekness! Weakness! That is all our Canper counsels! He needs permission from the Princess to speak! And he heeds her advice, he bleeds Nakotebo dry for the coxcomb dreams of distant imperials! And these imperials are weak! Everywhere they are not, the Canpers stand proud: Kenptititi, Amaseida, Waydaub, all took action to save themselves from the disasters on Life. But not our Canper! Not Nakotebo! Is that what ‘Nakoteban hospitality’ is? To break ourselves, burn out wealth, then bow and ask for more?” he hollered sententiously from his impromptu platform. Anneli had a long moment to consider the man’s familiarity. It was not quite long enough.

In no sense was this an irrefutable claim. The Canper might have offered some counterargument had the setting been one more cordial and suited to discourse. But they were not calmly debating, nor were they vitriolically campaigning for office; they were merely two men, standing opposed on two sides of a room, between them a gathering of irresponsibly and pointlessly riled up people, angry and confused at the changing world around them. People who were still primitive, for all of their wealth. People who still had ceremonial candles, and ceremonial feathers, and ceremonial plates. And ceremonial knives. Anneli paid no mind to such things, but some ceremonial Ricongerakan knives were quite aerodynamic. She found this out firsthand when one struck the Canper in the neck.

Her first reaction was to scream in terror. Her second reaction was to scream in anger. Her third reaction was to drop to the floor. Her fourth reaction was to get right back up for fear of being trampled by the mob. Her fifth reaction was to despair at the realization that this meant those covert security forces she was certain existed were either incapacitated or useless. Her sixth reaction was to frantically scan the crowd for the perpetrator. Her eyes immediately sought out the strange Hettish girl who’d caused so much trouble already. She was standing in her corner near the stairwell, surrounded by Kenptititi warriors and looking none too happy about this newest development. She was deep in conversation with a Ricongerakan boy, his long skinny face poorly hidden behind a plain wooden mask. Anneli could only guess at the source of their discomfiture, and she found herself entirely uncurious about the whole matter. She turned her attention back to the crowd, which was by now falling into a haze of confused violence. No one raised their voice to claim the credit for the killing, nor did any voice of unified outcry make itself known. And though she feared for her life, and though she knew not what good it could possibly do, Anneli wanted to speak. She wanted to speak about the tyranny of the masses. She wanted to scold every man and woman in Nakotebo as if they were merely rebellious youths. More than anything, she wanted to convey the gravity of the situation to these people; that they had killed their Canper. A servant of the crown, bound by a series of oaths and traditions to the house of Apogee. That it was not only themselves they had struck, but the empire itself, and she could not and would not save them from its wrath.

What stayed her hand and her voice was not prudence. It was the jumbled milieu of ideas in her head. As she tried to compose her thoughts into arguments, she could only summon that which had been foremost in her mind those past few days. She wanted to scream, but all she could scream was of the good old duke, despondent at his breach of duty. She wanted to shout, but all she could shout were the pretty soliloquies of Extabon poetry. She wanted to scathe, but all she could scathe were the petty fears of Codan nobles and middling functionaries. She wanted to sob, but all she could sob for was Shinag and his dashed dreams, so similar to her own. 

So she just stood there in the blue tinted light. There were tears in her eyes and fury in her face, but she said nothing. For long minutes, she stood proudly, daring the crowd to infringe upon that small circle of space she maintained. And whether out of respect for this display of dignity or by some other miracle, she remained untouched. Whether she stood in this manner for minutes or hours she could not tell, but eventually there was a shift. 

It came from one of the hallways. Anneli couldn’t remember if it was the exact one Kozext had driven his opponent down earlier, but upon later recollection she liked to believe that it was. From this hallway burst forth a group of masked dark skinned men. Despite the Canpers body to her left, for a mere moment this visage terrified her more than even the mob. The mob, or at least those elements of it that had become aware of this intrusion, reacted likewise. There was not a man or woman in Nakotebo who was not affluent enough to have watched a news broadcast or two. And there was not a man or woman in two worlds who had watched a news broadcast without seeing just such a sight. It was the sight of a Gidardan gang, the most violently horrific kind of group anyone had ever heard of. There was not a day without some nightmarish report of their activities. To most people’s relief, these activities were usually confined to Gidarda. To most people’s greater relief, the usual targets were rival gangs and paramilitary groups, though the feeble remnants of the Gidardan government were also frequent targets. As angry and as confused as the Nakoteban people might have been, this one fact shone through in their minds: when confronted with a Gidardan gang, the only priority was escape.

Anneli experienced a similar reaction, as did the strange Hettish girl and her entourage. For all that they might have wielded fancy technology to amplify voices or disrupt link communications, and for all that some in the crowd might have wielded knives and sticks, Gidardan gangs were not to be confronted when so feebly equipped; Gidardan gangs had no qualms about burning people alive or blasting buildings and trains to smithereens. Anneli was certain they did much worse than that, but at her mother’s discouragement she had never investigated the specifics. It was only at the sight of Kozext alone unmasked among their ranks that Anneli found the courage and motivation to stay put. Despite her expectations, the crowd escaped in suspiciously good order. The strangely clothed portion of the crowd escaped alongside their bare chested counterparts, leaving Anneli no time to consider their presence. She gave one last thought to the strange Hettish girl and her companions, but they, having positioned themselves by the stairwell, had been the first to flee.

The action had been orderly, meaning it took some time before the floor was clear. As the hallways and entrances were secured, Kozext strode forwards towards Anneli, still rooted by the window. He yanked her towards the center of the room with a murmur of concern about snipers or other such threats. He looked rather worse for wear than he had beforehand, and that had been rather ruffled, charitably speaking. Anneli’s first and only question was “How? How did you get them here so fast? Even if you’d gotten the link back up, how?” she asked in bewilderment. Kozext threw his head back as if to cackle madly. But he didn’t. He slowly composed himself before speaking deliberately. “That letter. There was a letter, last night, one that they hadn’t torn to pieces. It wasn’t in an envelope, one of them must have read it and thrown it away. Well, that little drone, it must work faster than you or I imagined! It got the letter, or at least the message all the way to Autiola! And even for all its speed, the group just arrived. How did you stop them? What did you say that stayed their hand, that kept the mob confused and disorganized?” 

Anneli wondered that herself.