Hojun could have pursued the Oksidentano, but chose not to. The Kamaos lifted themselves up, tending to the wounded. Their faces were more expressionless than before, and the melancholy air reached suffocating heights. The gaping hole left in the warehouse left the building creaking. Strewn hats and bandanas littered the floor, bullet holes imprinted in the cargo boxes.

Hojun went to help Alejandro, and Jorge as well. As they supported him she casted a healing spell.

“Dihu Huifu.”

Since the bullet went clean through, it was safe. If the bullet became lodged in the body, then it would have to be removed before the spell. Saharic particles obeyed her command and stopped the bleeding.

“Captain, have anyone that can use healing spells tend to the wounded.” Alejandro winced. “For the ones with bullets stuck, extract it first.”

“Señor Alejandro, I’m so sorry…” Jorge kept staring at the ground, while supporting him up.

“Go home, Escaramanga. Like the Ilustrado said, it’s not anyone’s fault. Go rest for a few days.”

Jorge slowly let go of Alejandro, leaving only Hojun holding him. “Okay, I understand. Take care, señor.”

He walked out into the night. The moon glistened in the sky, while they helped each other. Hojun took Alejandro to the spot where he sat in the beginning, next to the booze and table. She felt the cold wind kiss her face, while the underboss drank some more.

“Sir, I think I’m the one that needs to apologize. For coming here.”

“No need. You’ve earned yourself some respect for defending us from an Oksidentano. If it weren’t for you, we’d be dead in those five minutes.”

“...”

She pondered about the state of Buhanggilog, and the gangs within it. Jorge said they were the three pillars, but what was the government? Hojun placed her hands in her pocket, and maintained her composure.

“Could you pass me the brick?”

“Brick?”

“I mean the cigs, lady.” Alejandro reached out as she gave the box of cigarettes to him. “You speak good Galag. Where’d you learn it from?”

“The Laoyuang House issued an ordinance. I chose Khoitan and Galag out of proximity.”

He popped one in his mouth and lit it with a sahar spell. “Things have gotten better ever since the end of the Dineh Kazaàd except for Buhanggilog. One of the Rebellion, Suruj Zundui, is considered a national hero. But it didn’t change our circumstances here.”

She went straight for it. Hojun knew it deviated from her mission, but she wanted to know. “Can you tell me what’s the deal with Jorge Tarique?”

“I dunno your intentions.” Alejandro sighed with smoke, “However since you’ve proven yourself to be an associate of the Kamaos. Jorge’s a good kid, lady. Treated like crap ‘cause he’s a Bangkaño. The word around here is, people with the purest blood quantum hold the highest sahar levels. But when different ethnicities mix the offspring’s sahar level gets slashed in two.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

She paused to think. “So he’s a mixed blood.”

“Not just mixed. The Bangkaños were a seafaring Khoitan tribe, and intermarried with about everyone in the two continents. They’ve mixed so much to the extent that most of ‘em can’t even use sahar.” He stared into the city. “That’s all I’ll tell you. I can tell you’re serious about something in this country, but in the end you’re an Ilustrado out on foreign land. Ilustrados that dig too deep will find themselves buried alive in Ilog al-Buhangin.”

Hojun agreed with his statement. Hojun was an outsider, meddling with conflicts she shouldn’t have. The country of Buhanggilog, ridden with corruption and terrorism. She saw it all when she first arrived in the Luzokapital.

“I thank you for telling me about Jorge.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I will take my leave.”

The revolver in her pocket faded away.

She strolled the streets of the Luzokapital, while the neon lights began to glow. Yellow and blue streamers hung tightly around the lights as the people under it prepared for the daytime processions. Every few steps or so Hojun heard the crack of glass under her feet.

When Hojun arrived at the hôtel hallway, she spotted Jorge and his cat, Borja sleeping next to the door. They slept so soundly; She inferred that they were used to sleeping together in such uncomfortable conditions.

Hojun smiled for the second time, before she unlocked the door for him with sahar. Carrying Jorge and Borja like a princess she laid him down on the bed, and changed his tuxedo into pajamas she’d found in the closet.

Returning to her room, Hojun heard a knock on the door. She opened it, and before her were two men; An older fellow and a middle-aged one. They both bowed to her deeply.

“M’lady, you have been out late at night without us following.” The older one replied as the two entered her room.

Hojun took off her trench coat, and fixed her hair. “Yes, I know, Mister Gyeong. But I’ve got a lot of information to relay.”

“Your father allowed you autonomy just this once, and you’ve used it in treating a homeless Bangkaño and disappearing into the night. Don’t forget why we’re here.”

“To find my brother who ran away to Buhanggilog, right.” She sat down on the bed, looking away from them. “Today I met a group called the Kamaong Batikan. And there, I may have gotten a lead.”

“A lead?”

“This homeless Bangkaño you speak of, it is thanks to him I’ve gained a clue on where Prince Tayang might be.”

Gyeong scratched his chin, before nodding. “I’m surprised a mere squatter has proved useful to you, m’lady. But remember, you are Princess Hojun al-Qarakh, second heir to the Al-Qarakh House after Crown Prince Tayang. Don’t get too attached to the filthy people here.”

The two bodyguards kneeled, and exited her room. Hojun only sighed before she prepared to sleep.

After a basic routine she walked to the balcony in her nightgown, where it oversaw the heart of the Buhang metropolis. Hojun closed her eyes to the bitter breeze and the honking horns filling her ears. The gun model she saw, was the exact same model as her brother’s.

“The matter to investigate is… The Occident.”

“Hojun.”

Gyeong scuttled up the spiral staircase. He paid no attention to the dizzying abyss, and soon he reached a door. He knocked twice. A single female voice was heard from the outside.

“Enter.”

Hojun stood in front of the mirror. She wore a rigid uniform, and her hair short. Jade earrings glistened in the candlelight. Mister Gyeong sighed.

“M’lady, you know how your father wants you to look like a son. Take those off.”

“But Mister Gyeong, I am a girl.”

Her right-hand man fixed her room, which was already organized. “I know, m’lady. I know that you’re a princess. However your father dresses you up like a son, and treats you like a boy.”

“I don’t like that.” Hojun stood up. “Father even gave me a boy’s name, Hojun.”

Gyeong, in his old stature, stopped for a moment. He closed his eyes. “One day when you reach that age, he’ll let you grow your hair out. For now, all he cares about is the return of Silla.”