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Book 1.5 - Intermission
🕑 Added 2019-01-04 13:33:57 +0000 UTC A heavy sigh escaped Atau's lips. It was the latest of many he had gone through over the past two weeks. He looked over the lived-in tent with the improvised furniture and finally back to the letter in his hand, the one they had received this morning.
“What do we do now captain?”
In the end, Atau's eyes landed on the worried messenger who had brought the bad news. A sharp nose, high-brows and well-kept appearance, not at all like a sailor. Ivo, one of his own men, his first mate. Though for the lords of Medala, it made no difference who led him. The men in his camp were all nothing but foreigners, and the second son of the southern governor had been grouped with them.
“Go tell the clock maker to come over, and fatso as well. We'll need to make some emergency plans.”
“Aye, aye captain!” Energetic as always, Ivo returned a proper salute before he left to complete his orders.
As he waited for his guests to arrive, Atau looked back down to the paper with the short, impolite message and out of the tent, over to the distant walls of the city which had sent it. The town of Kapra, placed along the Mayura river, the main artery through central Sachay. Making it up to here had been a struggle all in itself, though the fatty's impatience hadn't helped matters.
“Sire, did you receive word from the lord of the land?” A young man brushed aside the tent flap with his gangly arms. Though it was already opened, His height would always make things more difficult for him and the shabby tent wasn't built with larger men in mind.
Ah, Egidius. Please have a seat.” With the letter in his hand, Atau pointed over to a barrel on the ground. Without any proper supplies, they had to improvise most anything, even the chairs.
His movements awkward as always, the lanky clock maker took a seat and used his spindly fingers to brush the streaky carpet of coal-black hair from his eyes.
“What does the message say? Can we move ahead?” Egidius asked with a nod towards the letter in Atau's hand.
Managing to suppress a bitter smile on his face, Atau retained his calm. A leader always had to seem in control. It was the hardest lesson he had learned in his years at sea, paid in blood.
“To our great misfortune, that's not the case. Lord Ogulno's son has sent back message, but according to this, he considers us foreign invaders, so he won't to let us camp near the city. He won't even let us buy supplies.”
“What?” The clock maker looked up, his brown eyes behind the veil of hair quivered from an onset of panic. “That can't be! The artisans are already jumpy. They have been promised a king's welcome, riches and honor! Instead, they got months out in the open sea. Since our landing, we have done nothing but travel through cold, harsh hills and slept in the wild to the sound of howling wolves. If I cannot bring good news, and soon, I cannot guarantee sire that all men will remain willing to uphold their part of the deal for much longer.”
Atau grinned in response. “So what will they do then, turn bandit? Good luck with that, is all I can say. They'll get eaten by the wolves before they can even make it to a village. So you best keep your people looking sharp, for their own sake. The waters of Medala are deep. If a handful of craftsmen dropped in, they wouldn't even make a splash.
“And what if we add my people to bolster the numbers?” a dissenting voice came from outside.
The gruff man forced his way into the tent with a turn of his body. Entering anything was a challenge for him, since he was as wide as the clock maker was tall. In the end, the cramped space became even smaller as it now housed a man large enough for two.
“Mason, are you trying to threaten me?”
“So what if I am? Your boss should take care of us. That was the deal. You break the deal, we're not gonna follow command. That's our code.”
Atau stood up himself, to look at the shorter man from above. The top of the tent brushing over his black hair did nothing to alleviate the wild, imposing aura emitted from the sun-burnt captain. As usual, the fat treasurer of the mercenaries loved to push the boundaries and fish for benefits, but Atau wasn't in the mood for games. He just stared at the little man until he sat down on the remaining barrel-stool with a meek “it's true though”.
“First off,” the still standing Atau looked down on the small man as he spoke. He would stamp his foot down today, and show the greedy mercenary his limits. “Your code is 'do whatever you can get away with'. Unlike your boss, you're a bandit, not a knight. I also wonder just what that boss is gonna think when he learns that his fatso friend claimed the wolves for himself and planned a revolt.” Mason's cheeks began to quiver. The only thing he feared more than death itself was his own boss Dedrick. Thus, the mercenary captain was also the only man who could ever control him.
“In the end, it's your damn fault we ended up in this mess.”
“No captain, that was just-” The fatty stood up to defend himself, but Atau let himself down again with a heavy thud. The sudden movement and loud noise alone was enough to sap all courage from the man with the heart of a mouse. Flustered, he sacked onto his seat as well. However, his weight and the uneven ground did him no favors and his lack of balance did the final part. Under loud clatter and a terrified shriek, the treasurer's barrel tripped over and dropped him on the floor. Atau leaned over the table, just another large barrel, and looked down to the grounded whale.
“That was just... what? The plan was to take your nine hundred leftover men, together with the craftsmen, the Fastgrade people and the special supplies, and move them from Port Ulta in the south all the way through Sachay and into Puscanacra. Everything was going to plan too. We made it south without trouble. Favorable winds, despite the harsh current. You have an idea how rare that is on the east coast? We land by Port Ulta and of course it's gonna be difficult.
“All they see is a foreign fleet unload a foreign army right by their walls. They would never take it well. A couple days for them to confirm my identity would have been enough. We would have been an official army of Medala, warriors under Prince Corco. At that point, people would have given us our damn supplies for free, let alone having us pay for them. So why the hell would you go and ruin that, huh? Sneak out those cannons at night and open fire on our own damn city?”
“We... we got the supplies though.” The whale held strong against Atau's argument, as his gloved hands tried to force his massive weight into a sitting position.
“Yeah, we got the supplies. All the oxcarts we need. Some extra water and food even, plus these lovely tents.” Atau swatted at one of the loose patches in the cheap cloth. They hadn't been blessed with the highest quality. “But now what? We're still stuck, just farther inland. Even if Lord Vareo had never let us inside Ulta, worst case? We could have just camped outside. We'd still be by the shore, still with cover from the fleet. We could get all the supplies we need shipped over from Porcero too. Not a problem. At the latest once Laqhis becomes Emperor would they have to let us through anyways. Your attack was as greedy as it was impatient, and it ruined everything. Now we're stuck in the middle of nowhere, without supplies, without contact to anyone and without a plan, while the estates around us are all afraid we're just gonna raid them while their lords are in the capital!”
Finally, the fat man had managed to erect his upper body. With it, his courage had been raised as well.
“So what if we have no supplies? We can always just go get them in the surrounding villages-”
A bang from above interrupted the man's sorry excuse for a plan. Amautu could feel a sharp pain in his fist, caused by his angry hit onto the barrel-table. He might have actually sprained it in his fury, but he didn't care.
“Even if you're just a bandit, you can't be this stupid. These are our lands! Robbing our people is the worst way to start a rule, especially the people here. This is Sachay, the foundation of our power, and you ruined our reputation with them, maybe for good! You get that you fat bastard!?”
Angered at the insult, the man labored back onto his feet with several heavy grunts. Atau knew he wouldn't care about being called fat, so it might have been the 'bastard' that had done it.
“Captain Atau,” Mason said, “If I may be so bold. I am simply looking for a solution to our troubles. I am the man in charge of supplies after all, at least for the nine hundred souls of the Wolf Troop. There is no other solution in sight, as far as I can tell. If these are indeed your own lands, how could all these so-called lords just refuse to sell us supplies? After all, you yourself claim to be the son of their king, are you not?”
Atau thought back to his father, Sonco Cauac Saqartu. The great Governor of the South, the man who had sent him into exile, all so he wouldn't interfere with the succession of the Saqartu estate. He had always been conflicted when it came to his father, and the complex thoughts swirling around in his head did much to sober his mind. Atau realized that he had been leaned forward the whole time, and just how tensed his shoulders were. The pinch they had found themselves in had worn on all of them, but especially him, in charge of well over a thousand souls trapped within hostile lands, with no options to fight back.
With longing, Atau thought back to the planks of his ship, gently swaying in the waves. This here wasn't the glorious start Laqhis had envisioned, far from it. With another tired sigh, Atau leaned back, before he remembered that the barrel had no backrest. Just in time, he caught himself before any embarrassment could befall him. Again, he looked towards the treasurer. In the few seconds it had taken Atau to collect himself, he had begun to build up his frame in haughtiness and showed off his crooked teeth.
“Stumped, are we captain? Turns out they're not your people after all.”
Annoyed again. However, this time Atau wouldn't let himself get baited into another pointless attack. He had to focus on matters at hand, and his hand really hurt.
“More likely than not, the estates think that you have found the seal somewhere overseas, or that you hold me captive and use it as an excuse to raid the lands. Who can deny them this idea? You have made nothing but trouble since landing on Yakuallpa.”
Of course this wasn't the only explanation. Kapra was built along the Mayura. Marching upstream from here, they would reach all the way to Puscanacra, his old home. House Ogulno was also an old-familiar ally to House Saqartu. They had spent several days camped outside the walls already. By now word must have spread to Puscanacra, yet no one of House Saqartu had made an attempt to come here and confirm his identity. Clearly, someone was making trouble for them, some of his own people no less.
“For now, we need to get active,” Atau concluded. They couldn't keep sitting here and hope for good weather. Yakuallpa, the land of water, was notorious for rain. “We'll break up tents and move back east, back to the fleet. Tell your people to get ready. We march tomorrow, at the break of dawn.”
As he had watched the altercation between the bandit and the pirate with great interest, the clock maker Egidius had been retreated onto his barrel. Now, he nodded his head with great vigor, happy that he was able to present a solution to his people. Meanwhile, the fat treasurer frowned, lost in thought. He would understand how much of a humiliation this retreat represented, and what it would do to their employer's reputation. However, there wasn't much else Atau could do. With all the estates closed down around them, they were stuck in darkness, receiving no message from anywhere. Once they had moved too far inland, even contact with the fleet had been broken. Any rash action, like attacking the city and forcing them to trade, could have catastrophic results on his cousin's bid for the throne. Thus, he would take the hit to his own good name and wish Laqhis the best.
The fatty opened his mouth, but the one to answer was Ivo's voice from outside.
“Captain! Captain! There's word from the capital!”
Again, the first mate rushed in. He ignored the turned over barrel and the standing Mason. Instead, he marched towards Atau and pressed a sealed letter into his hand.
“Just this moment a messenger came from the city and said to send this over. He also said that he hopes there won't be any misunderstanding between House Ogulno and King Corcopaca's warriors. Living in harmony would be the best solution for all of Sachay.”
Curious at Corco's strange title and the submissive message, Atau broke the Pluritac seal on the letter and began to read under the curious gaze of the other men in the room. Soon, the boisterous laughter of Captain Atau had returned to him, something he had left behind on his ship back in the Weltalic Sea.
“Time to break up the tents, boys. You wanted a grand entrance? Well, you'll get it soon. The great King of the South, Corcopaca Titu Pluritac, invites you to his kingdom.”
