40 years ago

Ling stood mesmerized. A handsome stranger walked into her village. Skin too pale, eyes too focused, and a cheeky smile she didn’t trust. Who was he? He briefly turned his head when Tukuk shouted something at the stranger. A man with a ponytail? The man waved at Tukuk and strode ahead as if owned this place. Her father would make a quick work of him. Honetah was a hard man who despised deceit and laziness … and strangers.

The man was approaching the chief’s hut – the largest in the village. They used to call themselves the Cape Tribe until the Imperial Emissary appeared a decade ago and offered them a choice: become a village under the rule of the empire or perish. Ling had a brief memory of that day, but Kurelah—a tribe’s chief back then—ordered to kill and cook the emissary and his soldiers. Ling and her tribe learned that day that some legends were true. And they were called – the Royalbloods.

One Royalblood had more battle worth than the entire tribe. Kurelah was executed and her father Honetah was elected to be his successor. For days Honetah swore in the shadow of their hut. With their fighters wiped by the emissary, bandits, and other tribes became the real threat. So he decided to kill any stranger without asking questions. It lasted until a merchant was attacked by Honetah’s scouts. They were killed on the spot as the merchant’s guards took them for forest bandits.

Ling’s father despised the merchant for the sly man he was, but Ling found the graying, huffing man curious. Things he offered! She hadn’t known that so many different spices, meats, clothes, and everything else existed in the world. And the world? The world was massive. Her village and its surroundings were just an insignificant speck on its surface. She burned with curiosity long weeks after the merchant had departed to another converted tribe. A true revolution was coming to her world.

And now this man was casually walking toward her. All the people she had seen so far had brown skin, lighter or darker but always brown. His skin didn’t only set him apart. It brought her proof that the world was indeed vast. Merchants didn’t lie when they spout their stories about the desert region. Or the mountains taller than the High Forest. It wasn’t all! There was land beyond something called the Scar. The land of endless plains with bountiful vegetation and peaceful life. Most of the merchants that had come over ten years agreed, it was their dream to move there one day.

Why did she have an odd feeling about this one? He didn’t look like a merchant. They always had guards and wagons with them. He had just a backpack.

“Hello!” His jovial tone sounded weird.

“Who are you? she asked.

“Sister!” Ile appeared in the threshold of the hut. “What did father tell you about talking to the strangers … forest gods preserve. What are you?”

Ile was her insufferable, little sister. And by little, Ling meant both, the size and age. Ile was too short and stout for her age. She was also their father’s most loyal grunt. If Ling stepped out of the line, Ile would make sure to inform him. Their sisterhood oscillated between two opposite ends within a matter of minutes.

“I didn’t talk to him, you halfwit, I just asked a question.”

“My name is Charcot.”

A grunt from behind froze the sisters. Their father was a tall, well-built fighter who preferred a battle to the role of chief. His long, matt black hair stuck together. He was in the process of cleaning it. He won’t be happy about the disruption. Honetah had only shorts on himself. Ling was proud to have a father like him although he was a pain in the ass. Most boys from the village avoided her out of fear that he’d put them through the test. Whatever it meant.

Stolen story; please report.

“Are you an imperial merchant?”

“No.”

“Then be on your way. If you’re fast, your feet will carry you alive to Soto or Yucca before the night.” Their father turned away, thinking the matter of the stranger to be resolved.

“I can’t leave yet.”

Honetah spun, his face distorted by anger.

“I am chief of this village. We will not suffer strangers here.”

“Of course,” Charcot replied, unperturbed. Ling noticed Ile’s shock. She was too a little shaken by the man’s unwavering stance. “But first, I must deliver letters to a woman named Ling. Can you poin—”

Her father was by the poor man in an instant. Although Charcot was an adult, he lacked the muscular body her father possessed. If they fought here, the contest wouldn’t last even a moment. He pulled him by the front of his once-white shirt.

“What did you say?”

“Letters to a woman named Ling.”

Only when he said her name the second time, she realized the meaning of his words. Someone sent her letters? It was possible. The merchants … she’d loved to spend time with them, listening to their stories of the faraway lands.

“Give them to me!” Honetah said with force.

“It was emphasized to deliver the letters into her hands and no one else’s. I’m sorry.”

Her father shoved Charcot and they all expected the man to fall, but he managed to remain on two feet. Could it be…? Her thoughts were mirrored by her father’s as he stood down.

“Are you one of those Royalbloods?”

“I’m not,” he replied, keeping his spirit up. “But traveling the jungle alone dictates certain training regime. I’d like to now give it Ling and be on my way.”

Honetah stood quiet, immersed in thoughts. They haven’t noticed how many tribesmen gathered nearby to watch. Most of them didn’t speak the imperial language yet, although it was mandatory that everyone would learn it. The chief reached the conclusion in his mind.

“This is Ling. She’s my daughter. I have the full right to know the content of the letters.”

Ling gathered courage and all the anger she stored away and said.

“Father, I’m nineteen now. I’m an adult.”

“You’ll be an adult when I say you are.”

“Not by the imperial law!”

“I don’t care about—” He snapped his jaws together in time. He was so close to committing a crime against the empire. A few more words and he’d doom himself. “Fine. But if you so insist on being an adult. You’ll have to earn those metal things … imperial coins.” He strode back into the hut.

“What have you done?!” Ile asked pretending to be offended—she wasn’t—then she followed their father.

Not counting a hundred bystanders, they were alone and Ling couldn’t force herself to speak. Charcot smiled at her but didn’t offer her the letters. What now?

“Letters?” she squeezed a word out of her lips. He wasn’t even handsome. Why am I lying to myself?

“Yes, but how can I ascertain that you are you?”

She blinked, unable to comprehend what he just said. Her grasp of the imperial language was good, the best in Cape Town—this was how they called the village now. How does he expect me to prove it?

Charcot saw her confusion and seemed content with it. Ling’s temper rose to the surface. It was the only thing she had from her father – rage.

“I am kidding,” he quickly said, but he seemed more amused than scared. “A who asked me to deliver the letters gave me a comprehensive description of you. A short black hair, soft brown skin, medium height.”

Her eyes widened in shock.

“That can be almost anyone!” What kind of game was he playing?

“You also were bitten into you … leg.”

“Left.”

“Yes, left.”

“Wait! Forest gods, how did you know?”

“As I said, the man who sent the letters seemed to know a good deal about … all sorts of things and people. He also said that the first letter is very important. Something about the matter of life and death.”

Only then he handed her the letters. She snatched them from his hand and stepped farther away so he couldn’t see what was written on the paper. She tore the envelope and greedily consumed the words expecting a message from one of the merchants. Instead, she found a warning. Her life would end tomorrow if the man in front of her was chased away from the village.