The country of Wamai was separated from the Central Empire by two sets of mountains called, not surprisingly, the Wamaian Mountains. The only land path into the country was the winding one that moved northwest between the two mountain ranges. The one break between the two halves of the Wamaian Mountains were met by a third set of mountains that became the spine of the Wamaian archipelago, stretching northwest. The road ventured into this triad of impassable rock cliffs, a treacherous and steep climb up that meant an invasion from the Empire was all-but impossible.

Because of its physical isolation, Wamai had grown far more independently of the Empire than the other bordering kingdoms, many of which merely emulated Imperial customs. Wamai was largely a mystery, conducting trade in small quantities and paying homage to the Emperor or Empress in almost equal quantities to the Imperial bribes that were the hallmark of the Central Empire’s foreign policy.

It was this impossible path Lian and Jiang followed that day, the subsequent night, and through to the next morning. It was that mystery that haunted Lian as she searched for sleep – under a warm blanket this time – as they travelled to Hona.

Once they arrived in the town, she was glad to have found even the small bits of sleep she had. Stepping out of the wagon, she and Jiang were directed to a small camp set up on the edge of town. Lian spent most of the time trying to peer into the collection of buildings, a place eerily reminiscent of Three Paths itself, except for two things: its architecture, which was different from anything Lian had seen before; and its snow, which coated every surface and seemed to fall continuously. Lian had visited mountains several times in her life, and she knew based on the threadbare nature of the air that they were at least a mile and a half above the sea. It was only late autumn, and the snow had just started, but she knew from the strong, angled roofs on the buildings that the town was used to spending months battling snow and cold. She also noted that the walls of the town, through which they had already passed, were thicker than those of the Imperial capital. The town wasn’t just an outpost, it was the first line of defense should the Central Empire ever try and attack.

Lian’s bout of observation was short lived, because Minister Ida arrived shortly thereafter and brought with him a train of twenty men, all on horseback and all ornately armored. The Minister himself wore a slightly more ornamental version of Hoji’s uniform armor, the helmet ringed with a thin band of gold. Lian and Jiang stood up, as Hoji and the Minister spoke briefly just out of Lian’s hearing,

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“What do you think they’re talking about?” Jiang asked.

“Probably the particulars of how they’re going to kill us if I screw up.”

“Oh good, I was worried it was going to be something scary.”

The Wamaians approached and bowed before Lian, formally, in the Imperial fashion. Lian returned the bow, and Hoji introduced the Minister.

“A pleasure and a thousand blessings upon you and your family,” Lian said, holding the bow.

“And a hundred years of peace and joy to yours,” Ida gave the appropriate response in unaccented Imperial. Their bow ended and Ida’s face – an old, weathered, and keenly intelligent one – dispensed any formalities, “But first we require at least a generation of peace here, in Wamai.”

“I understand you need an arbitrator,” Lian offered.

"More. A peacemaker," he vocalized with a mix of resignation and hope that Lian had heard only in the desperate and the damned. Ida gave the impression of being both.

“Are you ready?” Ida asked. “We will ride together, and with haste. The court is anxious for your arrival.”

“My associate, Jiang, will be looked after here?”

Ida did not look at Jiang, even as Lian motioned towards him. “Yes, of course. Hoji will look after him. He is prefect of this area, and no one will go against his word.”

Hoji bowed slightly, approving of Ida’s description, and Lian looked to Jiang, who was still scared but who ushered Lian on with a nod and a weak smile. Lian smiled too, which she hoped came off as reassuring. It didn’t, but Jiang nonetheless smiled a little wider in return.

“How long will I be gone? I would like my friend to know when he can expect me back.”

"You will take as long as you need to render a decision." Ida's response was brusque but not rude. "The speed at which you return is entirely up to you."

Lian took a chance then, veering off social convention, “Ballpark it for me. Days? Weeks? Months?”

Ida smiled, partly in recognition of the saying – though she doubted Wamaians played the same game of ball and stick that every child in the Central Empire enjoyed, he clearly understood the reference – and partly for the informal nature of Lian’s question. “That depends on one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“How quickly you can learn Wamaian law.”