The Mantra of Wellspring was a branch of magic that cured wounds and injuries. The Mantra would husband the target, giving them a refreshing feeling as if they bathed in the Fountain of Visha. They brought life back and ended all kinds of diseases, blight, and suffering. They sometimes fortified life itself, enhancing the physical attributes of the body. And any living body was open to the blessing of Visha’s favored magic. It all depended on the caster. They were the faucet from which the Mantra of Wellspring would flow. Masters of the Mantra could exert the magic at a greater rate than novices.

“That Beanrice isn't going to get juicier anytime soon.”

“Hush!” Wati said, looking at Aryo disappointingly. “That's because you don't allow me to concentrate.”

Aryo scooped a handful of his Beanrice into his mouth. He chewed them like he hadn't eaten for days. Viscous transparent liquid dripped from his fingers. “What do you think those Nyambek eggs are for?”

Wati sat cross-legged on a rough and thin tapestry across Aryo. Grains of Beanrice dotted the tapestry, as well as leftovers from the previous Legionaries who ate there. Wati and Aryo only swiped them aside enough for them to sit without the Beanrice sticking to their clothes. Wati held her pointy helmet upside down with her left hand. Her breakfast sat inside it, on the part where her head would fit. Three fists of Beanrice were the common rations of the Danker Legion, along with two raw Nyambek eggs. The cuisine always greeted them every dawn and dusk. They sometimes got meat if they were lucky, usually of Nyambek or Phitik. But it wasn't one of those days.

Wati rolled her eyes. “I don't hate them, okay? I just want to see if this can make my Beanrice taste better.” She said. Wati's right hand was suspended just above her food.

“Better in what way? They always taste like this.” Aryo said, scooping another handful of Beanrice. “The only way to improve is to season them with the Rica or Ram powders.” He continued while his mouth was still full.

Wati gripped her right hand. She had been trying to cast a Mantra of Wellspring on her meal, to no avail. The Beanrice that was served to the Legions tended to be dry. Wati was used to them. She just wanted to know whether she could improve her nutritional intake experience. She had been reading the spells in her Mantra of Wellspring textbook she had just bought last month with her savings. She just learned how to cure minor wounds, like a small flesh tear or shallow punctures. She skipped ahead once she noticed the spells to reverse aging. She wanted to turn back her Beanrice to when they just came out of the cookpot; warm and melty. It reminded her of her mother's Beatrice when she was a toddler.

Wati relaxed as her concentration was shattered. Of course, only those trained in the Mantra of Wellspring could manage such a thing. Wati was just a Legionary. She always wanted to master the Mantra like her mother. But her duty seized a good chunk of her time. She barely had any to learn.

“Why is it that you always interrupt me whenever I'm trying to do something new?” Wati asked. “Do you envy me or something? You don't like it when I make achievements?” Wati smirked.

“I don't want you to be chased by the Temple Guards,” Aryo replied, scooping another handful of Beanrice.

Wati flattened her lips as she looked at Aryo in his bright-amber eyes. The Danker also gazed back. He was silent as he chewed the Beanrice in his mouth. Looking at his bulging cheeks, Wati couldn't express how she wanted to kiss him. She longed for it. They had always been together since they were children. His parents took her in their care when she lost her house and her family. Wati and Aryo had always played together, studied together, and grew up together. They also slept together when they were little since there was no other room in Aryo's house. Unlike hers, Aryo's parents were moderate. They lacked the luxury that Wati was once blessed with. But that taught her how to live like an average Danker.

Wati missed the times when they shared the same bed. She wished to return to those times but as a mature Danker this time. She wanted to feel his skin against her. She wanted to lay on him the beauty that puberty had given her. But he refused. Partly because Wati's parents were both House Lords of Great House Pendhopo. The main reason was they were both close friends since they were children. Aryo felt awkward when that relationship had to go further. It felt odd to him when they slapped each other's bottom at one moment–a common banter between the closest of friends–and then called each other ‘love’ with additional romantic vocabularies right after. Wati saw no problem with that. But Aryo's eyes weren’t hers.

Aryo flashed his eyebrows. “What?” He caught Wati staring mindlessly at him.

Wati chuckled. The moment of her confession would always be awkward thanks to Aryo's refusal. Still, their friendship went on. They even managed to stick together to this day. The military service was Wati's idea. She wanted to get a recommendation for an entry at colleges of magic, where she could live her dream of mastering the Mantra of Wellspring. She was hoping for Dalem Arcane Institute, the best magical college in the Sultanate, but she was fine with any other option. Aryo tagged along. He said that he couldn't leave her alone.

“Nothing,” Wati said. She finally took her first scoop of her Beanrice. Her eyes were fixed on Aryo's as she chewed. That, somehow, prompted him to smile.

They finished their meal way before the bell rang. Wati flipped her helmet and slammed her hand against it, dropping any Beanrice sticking inside. She picked up the naughty ones that were still stuck and put them inside her mouth. Wati and Aryo wore their helmets at the same time. The golden sword-like diadem of the helmet fit Aryo excellently from the way Wati saw it.

They both rose and reported to their field sergeant. The sergeant gave them a scroll. It contained the orders issued to them for the day: tax collection, coupled with a little patrolling. They then took their weapons. Their primary was a spear one and a tenth times their height. Its blade and its shaft were separated by a golden crescent-shaped attachment that curved to the direction of the blade. Their secondary was a curved wavy sidesword which they could swing around with one hand. Their golden-framed kite shields were slightly cut on the right side for spear placement during a phalanx. On the body of the shield was a golden attachment of a symmetrical sword with a sharp and ornate crescent hilt, the insignia of the Legion. The gold in their arms and armor are signs of pride and strength. A kingdom where the people turned gold into physical weapons showed how wealthy it was. Or rather how it had been, during Mangkuprawan I’s rule. These days, not all of those golden hues on their equipment were true gold. Most of them were substituted for brass since they were more affordable.

Wati and Aryo left with a Nyambek to carry their weapons. Burlaps hung from its saddle on both sides of the lizard. That was where the people's taxes would go. The pair rode the lizard away from their base. Aryo steered while Wati sat behind him, arms wrapped around Aryo's stomach. Often she wished that they didn't don their armor on duty.

The districts of Nur-Fadhil were hierarchically divided into Low Districts, Middle Districts, and High Districts. It was impossible to overlook them given how they were settled on varying heights, with the High Districts on top of Mangkuprawan Hill. That was where most of the government officials and noblemen lived with their ostentatious houses and villas. There were also six ziggurats surrounding the Royal Palace dedicated to the six Great Houses of Makmu Sultanate. Their banners flew on its walls. One of them was torn down; no doubt which Great House that ziggurat had once belonged to. The Middle Districts were where Dankers with moderate wealth settled. The Legion High Command Headquarters resided in this level, near the High Districts. Nevertheless, the Commander-in-Chief of Danker Legion–General Sengkolo Sengkal Sing Olo Olo–tended to command through his office in the city of his name. There were also a lot of military bases and forts across the Middle Districts. One of which Wati and Aryo just departed from. This time they headed down into the Low District of Urak An.

The Low Districts were where the low Dankers resided. Unlike the clean and relatively sanitary Middle and High Districts, the residents of the Low Districts suffered from a squalid environment. Distributors of daily provisions tended to litter with their goods. Strips of vegetables, used packs, fruit wastes, cut cattle appendices, and literal rotten goods were scattered along the street. They mixed into a heap of filth that became the trademark of the Low Districts. Market vendors stood behind tightly packed stands, offering their goods to bypassers. Their voices quickly sank amidst the overly crowded streets. There were so many vendors that their goods were often indistinguishable.

Urak An was located next to a coast. The Dankers there lived in bungalow-sized houses that hadn't seen renovation in decades, leaving them dull and unpleasant to look at. Perhaps they were still fortunate. Some lived in shacks that probably shook harshly in case of an ash blizzard. There were floating house shacks beyond the coasts and the waist-deep waters of the swamps. Wooden boats were tied side by side to form a makeshift bridge for the Dankers living there. Some even made the boat their house.

Wati and Aryo walked through the streets of Urak An. They were so crowded that Nyambek riders had to walk. Wati took the lead while Aryo kept their Nyambek in check.

“I wonder whether it was better in Mangkuprawan I rule,” Wati commented. She looked around her. Everyone had a weary look on their face. The downward inflection of their lips suggested that they were chained to their condition.

The Dankers had ashen skin and pointy ears. Their stature was more slender and taller than an average man. Their eyes were bright amber. Their average lifespan was four hundred years. Wati was twenty-five years old, incredibly young by Danker's standard. Aryo was as old as her.

“Well at least everyone was happy during his reign,” Aryo replied. “Seems like the war has taken more than just lives, even when the front is quiet.”

In island provinces beyond, the Dankers were known for their hospitality. They always looked after each other, even between those who weren’t acquainted. It was their identity and strength. How else could they tame the Land of Monsters and make it their home? With such an attitude, alongside the leadership of Mangkuprawan I, they braved the dangers of Mananggal. Among the most lethal were the Kun Skimmers, the Kishinzoku, and Mount Wardhana herself. It was the consequence of worshiping the Almighty Three. The island continent was a gift from Them. Vahsani had promised great struggles to those who took Him as a protector. But He also promised triumph to those who were willing to endure. The Dankers' forefathers held firm to that belief, and they triumphed. They preferred such a fate over constant persecution in Heiligsplat for heresy.

When the threats were contained, there was some space for expansion. The Dankers began discovering how rich Mananggal was. Gold was found in practically every cave. Ore deposits that were rare elsewhere awaited whoever was willing to dig the mountains. The two most common were the Siwe swarthy iron–the raw material for the Legion’s arms and armor, and the purple Resonance crystal–the Wadang. They quickly became major exports of the Sultanate. And that was only the mining sector. Cattle, spices, and all sorts of raw materials extracted from Mananggal could bring a fortune to anyone who controlled them. The Houses’ interests began shifting to those fortunes, so much so that they undermined each other. The ambitious ones expanded greatly. They also absorbed those with coinciding interests, eventually becoming the contemporary Great Houses.

“How did Mangkuprawan III…” Wati wanted to say how Mangkuprawan III just let the Great Houses wage an unhealthy competition against each other. But there were Dankers all around her within a hand's length that could catch what she was about to say. “Well, you know…” She was unwilling to spark some disorder as some Dankers could easily be triggered by political opinions.

“Yeah.” Aryo nodded, seemingly agreeing with her.

Mangkuprawan I tried to control the avarice of the Great Houses. He made them swear an oath in Vahsani’s name that they would bring value to the Sultanate with the wealth they obtained. The Great Houses did shelter the people and supported the Sultanate. But only on instances when it suited their agenda.

Wati wished she could make things different. She wanted to make the Sultanate a better place and something worth fighting for. She believed that it was possible. The ruling classes just needed to start caring for the people. Only then they would prosper together, and the Sultanate would endure. Wati took a deep breath, departing from her reverie.

“So, once you get your recommendation, you'll go into a college?” asked Aryo.

Wati glanced at him. “You want to come again?” She smiled.

“Magic doesn't seem to be my thing.”

“And why is that?”

A Danker accidentally slammed his shoulder against Aryo's, twisting the Legionary slightly back. The Danker bowed slightly in apology. Aryo merely nodded and smiled. He then returned his attention to Wati. “I feel kinda content with poking stuff using my spear.”

Wati chuckled. “That's nice.”

“How long do you think until you get your recommendation?”

“I'm not sure. Hopefully, while I'm still alive.”

“Do you have to bring that? We're too young to die right?”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't.” Wati smiled at Aryo. “I hope you're right.”

“What are you going to do once you've mastered, or at least trained, in the Mantra of Wellspring?”

Wati looked up briefly. Once she came up with something, she grabbed Aryo's arms and pulled herself closer. “I'll watch your back.”

“For what?”

Wati shrugged. “So you can poke more stuff.”

“I'd rather you take on a less dangerous profession instead.”

Wati looked at Aryo's eyes. “I'm not in danger when I'm with you.”

Aryo met her gaze. “Okay.”

Wati punched his stomach. Her metal gauntlet did nothing to his metal chestplate. It was also an unserious punch; just a little shove to vent out her frustration on how Aryo's response to her flirting never met her expectations. Somehow it never failed to amuse her. At the same time, it made her love him even more. Why was it difficult for him to accept a loving maiden by his side? She thought boys of his age think of girls like her most of the time.

“Oh!” Wati exclaimed as she spotted a little figure in the distance.

The spherical figure sat on the sidewalk of the basalt road. Its apparent smooth gray and white fur reminded Wati of the tapestry in her house's living room. She used to play a lot of card games with her father there. Wati broke off from Aryo. The latter tried his best to keep up. He smashed his way through other Dankers while pulling the Nyambek with his right hand. Wati made a clicking sound with her tongue once she was close. The creature, a Poosh, turned to Wati and meowed. Wati crouched and made another clucking sound. She also followed it up with a couple of meows. The Poosh jogged toward her. Its body was half the size of her calf. It sat in between her feet and rubbed its body on Wati's greaves. Wati chuckled and rubbed the creature who then purred.

“That's a fine one,” Aryo commented.

Wati turned to him. “I know right?” She said excitedly, her hands still on the Poosh. The creature seemed to be elated in her presence. “Let's keep this one shall we?” Wati asked Aryo.

“You're the squad leader,” Aryo gestured at her. “You decide.”

“I know. I'm making sure you consent.” Wati flashed her eyebrows.

“I have no problem when you have no problem,” Aryo said.

Wati heaved the Poosh to her shoulder, holding it with her hands. “Thanks,” she said to Aryo. Wati then approached the Nyambek. She extended the Poosh right in front of its right eye. The Poosh smelled the Nyambek. The lizard turned its head and did the same. It then growled. The Poosh replied with a meow. Wati liked seeing the two creatures make friends with each other.

“Would you look at that?” Wati looked at Aryo and chuckled.

“This is something that a member of Great House Thong would do.”

“Hush.” Wati immediately smiled after hushing him.

Upon reaching an alley to begin, Wati pulled up a list of residents settled there. Wati began with a small house with paneled wooden walls and roofs made out of clay. She grabbed the hanging circular steel handle and knocked it on the door three times. There was no response. She did that one more time. And then another. There was still no response.

“What are you doing here?” A Danker asked.

Wati turned her attention to him who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Oh, um…” Wati eyed her list again. “Mr. Yono?” She asked. This wasn't the first time they had to collect taxes. But this was the first time the two had to do it in Urak An.

Yono studied them. Two cloth sacks hung from the grip of his hands–groceries. Wati hoped they were groceries.

“Go away,” Yono said as he walked past them, toward the door to his house.

“B-but sir,” Wati closed in on his back as the man tried to unlock the door. “You haven't paid your taxes in three months.”

“I'd rather feed my family.”

“Okay, but this will make you ineligible for services from the sultanate.”

“I don't care.” The Danker said as he unlocked the door. He then proceeded inside with his sacks.

“Wait…” Before Wati could say anything further, he shut the door on her. It almost hit her face due to how close she was.

Wati sighed. “Well…not a good start.” She smiled at Aryo.

“Secondary measures?”

Rejection was not a new thing in tax collecting. The Dankers of Nur-Fadhil had been evading them lately and the trend kept on growing. The Sultanate authorized harsh measures to keep the levy going.

Wati approached Aryo. “I'll secondary measure you.” She nudged his chest plate.

Wati never agreed to it. In times of low popular approval of the government, harsh actions conducted against the people would be seen as oppression. Wati understood that the war against Great House Thong was still ongoing. The expenditure necessary to support it required a great commitment from the Dankers. She believed that harming the people would cause the Dankers’ already wavering commitment to plummet further. They had dedicated a portion of their riches, some even their sons and daughters, yet the sultanate made no progress against the Wankers. The High Command always reported that they managed to repel onslaughts after onslaughts with unsustainable Wanker losses. Yet the frontline never changed, and Danker morgues kept on growing.

“Well…” Aryo took a deep breath. “Okay…”

Wati chose to side with the people, despite all things. She never committed to any regulation that spelled ‘harm’ to the Dankers. Her people deserved better. She still hoped that the grace that Mangkuprawan I had brought once would return and restore the glory of the Sultanate. Perhaps even expelling Imperial influence and reestablishing the traditional values. She believed that her small merit would eventually lead to that. There were prices for her to pay though, punishments for disobedient Legionaries. The penalties varied. Extended drills, reduced rations, and prolonged shifts were just a couple of examples. Wati and Aryo had gone through them every time they got a tax-collecting order. They never met the quota simply because Wati refused to commit to secondary measures. Wati admitted that those punishments were no-nonsense. But she always prevailed together with Aryo.

The rest of the alley was somehow empty. It was as if the Dankers living there knew that a tax collector was coming and shut all the doors and windows. There was only one Danker who welcomed them and paid the tax, and even then he only paid half because that was what he could afford. He had a downcast look on his face. The golden glints that he gave away probably amounted to his family’s lunch and dinner for the day. Wati negotiated, saying gently that he could skip the tax for the month. The Danker refused and told Wati to just take his gold. Wati praised him for being an obedient citizen of the Sultanate. Her words barely did anything. The Danker walked back inside when Wati was conveying them. She took a deep breath as she proceeded. She looked down in gloom at the five golden coins etched with the face of Mangkuprawan I.

“Hey, cheer up,” Aryo said. “At least someone here paid their taxes.”

Wati looked at Aryo. “We probably won’t meet our quota again, but at least his family has something to eat this dusk.”

Aryo briefly glanced back at the Danker’s house. His gesture suggested that they were unable to convene with him again to return his gold.

Wati sighed. “Fine…”

“Just let it go, Wati,” Aryo said. “We’re just doing our duty.”

The Nyambek growled, seemingly supporting Aryo’s statement. Wati melancholically glanced away. She wanted to be beneficial to her people. But she was just an ordinary soldier bound by duties. She couldn’t shift the cogs of the Sultanate to ease the burden on her people. That was the Sultan’s duty. She could only act on a couple of deeds that served the interest of her people. It was undeniable that they were minuscule when compared to policy-makers. Each of her actions only affected two or three people, never a whole district.

The next slum was cluttered with tents made of stitched reeds and Nyambek hides held together by wooden poles. Inside the dome-shaped tents were refugees. Their presence on Nur-Fadhil kept on growing. These groups were probably the last lucky ones to enter the capital as regulations had tightened since the last half of a month. Judging by the bright orange plumes on top of their tents–which were Kun Skimmer feathers, the mesh eye patches, and the grille mask on their neck, Wati guessed that they hailed from Al-Banna ash desert. The major Danker city in that region, Uz-Zamman, fell to Great House Thong four months ago. Citizens who refused Wanker’s rule fled the region. Some made their way to Nur-Fadhil.

An object crashed against Wati’s left pauldron. She flinched, shocked by the sudden turn-up of events. A ball bounced two times before her. She raised her sight and found three Danker children standing with their mouths open. Their bright-amber-eyes gazed at her with anticipation of a reprisal. Wati instead smiled. She approached the ball and picked it up with her feet. She twisted and flipped her legs around, juggling the ball in mid-air. The children were enchanted by her seemingly flawless movement. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Aryo gazing at her in equal astonishment. Surely he didn’t expect her to be capable of such tricks in full armor. Wati passed the ball to the children with her ankle. She gave enough force for it to land just in front of the boy with bundled hair and a necklace of Ber-Ang teeth.

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“Be careful next time!” Wati gleefully waved at them.

“Thank you, miss!” The boy bowed to her. “We will!”

Wati then turned to Aryo; her arms rested on her waist.

“Can you teach me that sometime?”

Wati walked closer to him. “Kiss me first.” She said, “Cheek is good enough.”

“No,” Aryo replied. His smile persisted as he looked down on Wati.

“Then that has to wait.”

“Well I did say ‘sometime’, didn’t I?”

Refugees didn’t pay taxes. They just had to respect the regulations and local social order. There was nothing wrong with that. They lost their homes and properties due to the war and thus had the right to protection from the state. The problem was the food supply, especially in a dense urban landscape like Nur-Fadhil. Crops and cattle products were produced beyond the city. The labor to bring them to local distributors justified the high price for kitchen ingredients. Grocery spending in Nur-Fadhil was already the highest of all urban cities in Makmu Sultanate. The exploding refugee population raised that even higher.

Wati blamed it on Mangkuprawan V. Since the time of Nur-Fadhil’s founding, the whole Danker society had seen three great wars. One of them was still active to the present day. The previous two occurred under Mangkuprawan I’s rule. Historical records showed that the increase, and the daily rate of increase, of refugees during those wars were on a proportional scale with what was happening today. Nur-Fadhil’s sustainability limit was stretched as much as during those times. Yet there were no records of inflation. Food and housing problems were superficial. Mangkuprawan I handled it decently. The average Danker citizen then proceeded with their lives like nothing was happening. Wati hoped that those refugees had the patience and strength to endure the struggle.

***

Urak An was the largest Low District of Nur-Fadhil. The two thought they would be done sometime beyond dusk. The sun hadn’t even set yet and they were already loosening up at Urak An’s shore. Despite having served for two years in Nur-Fadhil, Wati and Aryo had never visited Tam-Bakk. The coastline was always booming with Dankers. A lulling breeze rode the waves hailing from the Klethek Sea. The ashen sky gave the scenery a bleak yet mesmerizing feeling. She and Aryo sat under a tree beyond the sandy strip. Wati raised her gaze. Despite the throngs inhabiting the spaces around them, Wati managed to seclude her thoughts and relax. Calya, the Poosh she picked up, purred on Wati’s lap as she rubbed her body.

The early settlers of Tam-Bakk made the sea their livelihood. They once had no gathering place to welcome outsiders. Their coasts were scruffy and slumlike. Visitors were hesitant. Until one day they organized the place; they cleaned their filth and erected pavilions amidst the sands. The resulting pull factor increase was enormous. They had unintentionally made the place a tourism site. When Nur-Fadhil expanded up to Tam-Bakk, Mangkuprawan I provided some additions to the shore. The pavilions, which were then just stretched cloth tied to four wooden poles, were now domes of coastal concrete with a beige hue that matched the sandy vibes of Tam-Bakk. Beyond the shores was a line of ironwood arches three and a half times Wati's height dedicated to the spirits who dwelled in the depths of Klethek. It was true that the Almighty Three were the only divine power worthy of worship and reverence. But that was no ground to disrespect the immaterial beings who had once made the place their home.

Aryo groaned. Wati looked at him. The Legionary sat with his legs opened and head craned up. His back was against the Nyambek. They failed to meet the quota again, as expected. They were no stranger to punishment. Aryo just had to mentally prepare himself to go through one again.

“You know, I wonder what they are going to do to us this time,” Wati said.

“You know,” Aryo replied, his gaze still directed upward. “With your disobedience, anywhere else we should have been sacked by now.”

“This isn't anywhere else.” Wati chuckled.

“Yeah, we're lucky they need all the Dankers they could get,” Aryo said. “Even if we're fired now, they're going to conscript us later on.”

“True…”

Calya meowed as Wati maintained her gaze on Aryo. He waggled his feet and fingers. He looked like a person who just gave their all. He didn't and that was exhausting for him. Wati recalled the time when Aryo stole two Phencit for him and her because he was bored. Wati helped in the crime by keeping watch. The chase was tiring yet exciting for them both. They managed to escape. But the owner of the Phencit tree eventually found out where they lived. The two were extremely fortunate as the owner just asked Aryo's father to lecture them. Since then, when Wati and Aryo came home from school, it always crossed them to walk by the Danker's house to greet him. He was often found outside during those times, watering the dusty road before his house. They didn't do it as a gratitude for letting them go. They respected the Danker for keeping the selfless identity alive. Any other could snitch and bring down charges against Aryo's parents as the law dictated.

“By the way, which Great Hous-”

“For the last time…Wati,” Aryo finally lowered his head to look at Wati. “I'm not into politics.”

“Well if you had to choose…”

“Never.”

Wati slapped his mail-protected thigh. “Come on.”

“Here's a hint.” Aryo raised a finger. “Not Thong.”

“Duh.”

The Nyambek growled.

“Just pick one, come on. Based on what you know.” Wati continued.

“Just pick one, come on. Based on what you know.” Wati continued.

Each Great House had aspirations to sell, ideas on what the Sultanate should pursue for their racial longevity. Wati saw some good in them. The problem was: that they were too obsessed with their vision. They thought that their notion of Danker society was the ideal one to practice. The five Great Houses scowled at each other due to this difference. It wasn’t until Mangkuprawan III’s rule that they began to pursue their ideas fervently. Sure, they competed in giving the best for the Sultanate. But if they undermined each other to win, then what was the point?

“I don't want to.” Aryo groaned. “I chose the Danker people. Full-stop. I don't want to be freaks who are so immersed in something that they lose touch with reality and turn their immersion into ideals that we have to look forward to.” Aryo craned his head up again.

Wati looked up. He said ‘Danker people…’

“So…” Wati shrugged. “Great House Pawon then?”

“What!?” Aryo lowered his head in shock. His body slightly leaned forward. “No?”

“Fine choice, I think. It fits you well. They're hardworking, humble, always looking forward to labor to preserve the Sultanate wealth…”

“Wati…” Aryo tried to stop her.

“Hey on second thought, I think it's the best one around.” Wati continued to explain with excitement. “A lot of great people are associated with that Great House. An easy example is General Sengkolo Sengkal Sing Olo Olo. What a man he is. I wonder if someone else had to call the shots. We probably won't last as long against the Wankers.”

“Do you think so?” Aryo asked.

“Yeah. He fought alongside his men, he took part in building encampments, he was fair to his soldiers, and he had keen eyes for tactical advantages. Everyone thought that the Second Battle of Ra-Vis Column would end in a stalemate. But he managed to win that one. That’s truly someth-”

“No, I mean Great House Pawon.”

“Huh?”

“You just said that it's the best one around on your second thought. It's pretty surprising considering your parents were House Lords of Great House Pendhopo.”

Wati was silent for a while as she looked around. “I guess a child can differ from their parents in preferences.”

Aryo smiled. “That is so Great House Pendhopo way of thinking.”

Elated seeing Aryo's sweet smile, Wati smiled back. She shrugged and clapped her knees against each other repeatedly, trying to contain her joy.

“Tell me you didn't come up with it just recently.”

“Hmm,” Wati touched her chin. “Maybe.”

The Nyambek growled again. Aryo rubbed his face. Wati just kept on looking at him excitedly.

“Hug?” Wati jokingly said.

Aryo looked at her silently before taking a deep breath. Wati's excitement spiked when the Danker stood up. She pressed her lips against each other and pumped a fist.

“Yesss.” She whispered.

She put Calya aside, the Poosh meowed as her sleep was interrupted. Wati stood up and immediately slammed herself against Aryo. She wrapped her arms around him. He returned the gesture, patting her on the back.

“Good work today, Wati.”

Wati giggled. “Thanks. Good work for you too.”

Aryo only nodded.

They became the center of attention for the Dankers around them. But Wati didn't care. Everyone just stole a gaze toward them, nothing more. The Dankers knew how to respect privacy.

Wati moved slightly back to stare at Aryo's eyes. The latter did the same.

“Kis-”

“No.”

Wati pouted. “Okay.”

There was a light tapping on Wati's left shoulder. She let go of Aryo and turned around.

“Sorry, to bother you, ma'am.” A Danker said. He then pointed beyond her. “Someone took your spear.”

“What!?” Wati immediately looked to where he was pointing.

A child in a brown-orange shirt hugged her spear while running away. She didn't know whether it was her spear or Aryo's but it didn't matter. It was a state property that was not meant for public use, let alone claim.

“Hey!” Wati shouted as she bolted.

The child glanced back and hustled even faster. He ran down the pavement away from the crowd. Wati quickened her pace. The boy's small stature allowed him to easily negotiate through the Dankers crowding the road. Wati lacked the luxury. As soon as she ran faster, she crashed into a Danker, losing her momentum. She briefly apologized, though she didn’t have to do that. It was the norm to stay away from military affairs, as long as they weren't involved. That Danker should understand that Wati was trying to get that spear back. She technically could call on others to grab the child, but she wouldn't. It was just a child. The Phencit tree owner didn't do it too back then.

Though the child was drowned by the crowd, Wati could still follow him thanks to the tip of her spear standing above everyone’s head. Wati regulated her breath as she closed her distance. She watched the child turn to an alley. It was pretty spacious but just as dirty as the rest of Urak An. There was also no Danker there for some reason. They must have stayed inside their shacks to the alley's flanks. Wati was surprised to find the child standing there alone with the spear.

“Hey…” Wati said as she gently approached him.

The child was as tall as her stomach. She wanted to do it cautiously but it was just a child. There was no way he could use that spear to harm her.

“Kid…that isn't a toy.” Wati smiled. “It's dangerous, you can hurt yourself with that.”

The child looked at her nervously but he stayed still. His grip on the shaft was shaking. Wati found it odd how he suddenly decided to stop there. But it looked like he needed her help; Wati saw it that way and dismissed any suspicion. She came even closer to the child. She bent to match his height.

“Give it back kid.” Wati extended her hand, maintaining her smile. “Come on, don't worry,” Wati said slowly, keeping her tone as gently as possible. “Just give it back and I won't do anything to you. Promise.”

His mouth shook. At that instant, the child let go of the spear and ran away from her. Wati flinched as her spear fell, triggering a loud ‘clang’ that reverberated through the alley. She sighed and looked down. It seemed like her armor set made her figure too imposing for the child. She hoped that nothing terrible happened to him.

A lump of wood slammed against Wati's head. She yelped as the force shoved her aside. Her vision blurred. The alley tilted left and right. She clenched her teeth as she reached for the impact site: her right temple. Blood dripped from the tear that she felt with her right hand. In her rush, she had forgotten to don her helmet. She looked back and got another hit to her face. It knocked her to the ground. She felt her nose crushed in the process. A Danker held his cudgel overhead, about to land another blow. Wati could reach for her sidesword but she wouldn't have the time to raise it to block the incoming cudgel. She just crossed her arms above her. Her metal gauntlets held the blow but Wati could still feel the pain in her arms.

She thought she could hold the cudgel there. A sudden trauma on her thigh took that away from her. Then came another to her arms. Another two Danker joined the fray, hitting her repeatedly and mercilessly. Wati was pinned down. Her head was exposed and the Danker with the cudgel kept aiming for it. She ducked her head in and shielded it with her arms. Her armor was meant to last against any weapon. But the three Dankers were armed with blunt weapons. Her body still felt the force of the impact, and there was a limit to how much blow it could tolerate. It happened too fast for her to process. When the three Dankers gave her some space, Wati couldn't move. The majority of her body flared with pain. Her vision was barely holding. She felt blood dripping from her head on her face. She couldn't cast a healing spell on herself. They were not enough and she couldn't concentrate. She looked up one more time.

“Finish her.” One of them said.

Wati had no idea who these people were. She lacked recollection of any dispute with anyone. It seemed like these three were dissatisfied with the Legion before. She had no idea who exactly caused it, but it angered them. Perhaps this was a message. As the Danker with the cudgel switched to her spear, Wati saw her dreams flash before her. Her life just began and someone was taking it away from her. She would never be enrolled in magical colleges, an infuriating implication. She wanted to blame Mangkuprawan V but she preferred not to fill herself with negative emotions in the last seconds of her life. She chose to recall the deeds she had done for the people. She chose to recall her times with Aryo. Though they still failed to become a couple, their moments together were warm and sweet.

“Aryo…” She uttered his name as the Danker with her spear aimed the tip at her. She hoped her regards reached the Danker.

Wati closed her eyes. But the strike never came. She heard his voice, Aryo's voice, bellowing through the alley. She stole a peek. The three Dankers looked in the direction from where she came. Wati could feel a slight tremor. A Nyambek was galloping into the alley. The Danker with her spear began to run, dropping the spear. But the Nyambek reached him first. The crash threw him a good distance from where Wati was lying. The other two Dankers left the charged Danker limping on his own. The Nyambek didn't give chase.

“Wati!”

Wati was glad to see Aryo's concerned face just a hand above hers.

***

Wati woke up to the muttering of prayers. A silver chandelier shone the orange hue that warmed the medical ward. The ceiling it hung from had a color of dilapidated brass. The snaking slit-cracks weren't faults in design but a deliberate aesthetic choice. It gave the impression that the Dankers were able to construct an orderly structure out of the random and disordered shapes of Mananggal's rocks. Wati took a deep breath. It felt relieving. Her body was no longer burdened by the injuries. She felt like she just had a quality sleep and woke up to a new day. She felt refreshed and ready to bounce back to action.

The medical ward was vacant. The only patient was her and another Legionary two mattresses away to her left. A Pandhita extended an amulet to him. It glowed pale golden due to her prayers. The outline of the amulet was shaped like the toothed wheels of the Wei Han Empire war machines. The difference was that the blades were more akin to a squeezed conic instead of a trapezoid. Enclosed by the altered cog was an icon representing the Almighty Three; Three crescents with their backs against each other. One had the shape of a ziggurat sitting on its inner arc, one a prancing fire, and the other an intercrossed scarf of cloth.

Wati rose to sit. Aryo was sitting cross-legged to her right, looking at her indifferently. Wati pouted and hit his leg with hers. Aryo didn't budge.

“What took you so long?” She said irritatedly.

“Oh well maybe if you didn't run off on your own and waited until I packed up-”

Wati shoved her leg to his again, harder.

“Ow.”

“Yeah…and then I came back with a debt to the state.” Equipment losses due to irresponsibility were burdened on the Legionary to whom they were issued.

“You could have helped me pack up our stuff first,” Aryo argued. “Or…maybe I can help you pay off that debt if you lose it.”

Wati crossed her arms and sighed.

“What? Do you prefer getting yourselves killed over a spear?” Aryo continued.

Every city had well-distributed military outposts across its districts to allow quick response to distress or emergencies. The number varied depending on the districts’ size. Each Nodepost could facilitate as many as one hundred personnel, with medical ward installations that could support as many as fifty men and women. Each ward could house ten Dankers at most. A full medical ward would be a cramped sultry place that didn't offer respite to the patient. Wati was pretty fortunate that she could still smell the fragrant clusters of Timel flowers planted on pots that were fixed to the walls. She then noticed how her hair was let down. She twisted her body around to check her left and right. Her hand repeatedly tapped on the places around where her head had rested. Aryo cleared his throat. The raspy voice prompted Wati to look at him. Aryo's right hand was raised. His fingers were holding what she was looking for. A long black silky ribbon with golden embroidery. Wati curiously gazed at him.

“Why is it on you?”

Aryo shrugged. “I thought you'd be more comfortable resting without it.”

Wati hid her lip as she gave her right hand. Aryo dropped the ribbon on her hand. Her mother gave it to her on her sixth birthday. She used to flaunt it wherever she went. She could have sworn that happened yesterday. Half a year later, things changed drastically for her, the assassination of her parents. Wati took a deep breath before stroking her hair. She remade her mid-ponytail. She deliberately slowed down the process for Aryo to watch. He did watch but didn't come up with her expected reaction.

“How do I look?” Wati asked.

“What do you mean how do you loo-”

“How do I look?” Wati asked slower and with more emphasis on every word.

“Fine, I guess?”

“Just that?”

“I'm not sure what you want me to say.”

Wati didn't respond and just tossed her sight all around the ward.

“Will it make you happy if I say ‘it had been worse’?”

Wati briefly gazed at him before smiling. She also tilted her head to the right.

“Stupid question…” Aryo said, presumably to himself.

Wati chuckled. “How long have I been out?” She then asked.

“About an hour maybe, and a half.”

“Tell me you've been watching me through that timespan.”

Aryo squinted, studying Wati's face. “I'm not sure what you mean by that.”

“Well…you know…maybe it was…” Wati shrugged. “Exhilarating for you to see me unconscious…”

“That blow to your head must have done something to you.”

Wati rubbed her right temple, where she was hit.

“Does it still hurt though?”

“Nope.” Wati smiled.

“Thank the Almighty Three.”

Aryo stood up and prepared to leave. Wati followed. The Danker helped her put on her armor again to quicken the process. His action stirred some fantasy in Wati's mind. What if the joint effort between the duo persisted up to a household, their household? Wati amused herself with the thought. They reported to the officer in charge of the Nodepost. The officer then sent a notice of their departure to the respective officer of their unit through a Resonance.

The sun was setting when they exited the post. There was a map of the Low Districts of Nur-Fadhil planted on the wall just beside the entrance. It also marked the other Nodeposts throughout the Low Districts. Urak An was the largest. But it was the most crime-ridden area in Nur-Fadhil. Law defiers were common in the district. Only now Wati saw that those weren't just rumors. The low districts adjacent to it were Kulak An and Gendhak An. Kulak An was the filthiest due to the high number of raw goods distributors settling there. Gendhak An meanwhile was a destination for lovebirds, with a lot of parks and a relatively clean environment. The two were once stationed there and it felt like they were going on a date. At least according to Wati. The other low districts were Klesot An, Angkring An, Klothek An, and Kluyur An. Klesot An was mostly open spaces and where most of the refugees were settled. Angkring An had the most pubs and gathering places. Wati had never been to Klothek An and Kluyur An. She just heard that the former was known for being a place for ceremonies while the people of the latter tended to roam the streets at midnight.

The evening was when the streets of the Low Districts were at their crowdest. Most Dankers had just finished their work and were on their way home. Wati and Aryo had to walk to base again from Urak An. If they visited every house on their list, they still wouldn't be done by now.

On a large intersection with decorative bushes and trees in the middle, Wati noticed a group of three female Dankers across from her. They each wore matching flax robes with pale brown leaflike patterns decorating the collars, cuffs, and hemline. The robes had a built-in embroidered sash on the waistline. Two of the female Dankers wore the robes properly. The other unbuttoned the top part and let it hang loose on the sash. They all had sling-packs hanging on their shoulders. One of them was locking a book on her armpit. Apprentices of a magical college. The robe design told Wati that they were from Sun-Tek Academy. A modest one around but it was still better than nothing. Wati's attention was fixed on them until they drowned in the crowds. She wished to be in one of those robes. She thought garrison duty was the least dangerous compared to the other positions in the Legions. Wati saw it as an easy ticket to college. It turned out that it was just as dangerous as the other roles. She had just almost died. The chance of her getting murdered, even though it was small, shook her conviction.

“Hey,” Wati said moments later when they were about to climb into the Middle Districts. “Can we uh…take a break?”

Aryo stopped and studied her. His face appeared mellow. Wati was certain that her sudden grieving tone prompted that expression.

“We still have time until our expected return, right?” Wati followed.

They were expected to return late. That was when they properly enforced the taxation on the citizens. If they didn't do that, they were expected to return sooner–that is as soon as they were done. Failure to meet that was also a penalty. The two wouldn't be just punished for not meeting their quota, but also for being late to report back to base. But at the moment, Wati couldn't care less. It was just another punishment. She wanted that break right now.

The two just walked past a bench. Aryo walked back toward it, and Wati followed. The Danker allowed her to sit first.

“So…what's wrong?” Aryo asked while sitting down.

“I…” Wati lacked words to express herself.

“Must be about those Sun-Tek apprentices.”

“Kinda.”

Aryo sighed before leaning his face closer. “You'll get there, Wati. No doubt. You never did anything detrimental to the Legion. There's nothing to worry about.”

Wati looked at Aryo. “I almost died, Aryo.”

Aryo shrugged. “And?”

Wati wiped her forehead. “I don't know…I thought…I thought I was safe here to pursue my dreams.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I know. It's just…” Wati gripped her elbows and shriveled. “I'm scared.”

“You're scared to die?”

“I have plans for my people, and myself. I'm scared that the world would take it away from me before I even started.”

Calya meowed. The Poosh was grooming herself on top of the Nyambek’s back.

Aryo turned to look at the other side of the street. “I…can't say anything about it.”

“It's okay,” Wati said. “All this time…I thought that by believing in something and consistently putting efforts in favor of it, you can achieve anything. It turns out anyone can ruin it too.”

“Especially when you live in Mananggal.”

It made Wati wonder how the Dankers of old managed to form a solid society on the island continent.

“Our ancestors were great people, weren't they?” Aryo continued.

“I wonder if they ever thought of this.” Wati chuckled.

“My parents never told me anything about it.” Aryo gestured. “So I assume they just shrug it off back in their days.”

“Our generation is just weak, isn't it?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, what do you know then?” Wati said, amused at his apparent ignorance of anything.

“Hm…” Aryo rubbed his chin. “I know I can still walk. I know I'm in the Legion. I know I still have my mother back home. And I know Wardhana's ashes haven't killed me yet.”

“And that's enough to keep you going?”

“Perhaps that was what my parents were thinking back then. You know how we don't have that much wealth in the world? But they kept going. Even to this day.”

Wati took a deep breath. “I guess you're lucky to take examples from your parents.”

Aryo looked down. “I forgot to mention that…”

“Hm?”

“I know I have you.”

Wati's eyes widened. She felt her chest pounding harder and faster. “W-what do you mean?”

“I'm scared for my life too. But seeing you happy makes me happy. I want to see you succeed in anything you're thinking of. It'll make me happy too. That's why I followed you around. I want to make sure that it happens. I want to help if possible.”

“Aryo…” Wati looked at him in astonishment. It was rare for Aryo to say things like that. But it made Wati feel better. Knowing Aryo, that had to be intentional. “Does that mean we can be a couple?”

“No.”

Wati pouted.

“I'm sorry, I…” Aryo stuttered. “I'm still not sure.”

“It's okay.” Wati forced a smile. “Can I use your shoulder though?”

“Sure.”

Wati rested her head on Aryo's left pauldron. “Thank you.” She said.

Take your time, Aryo. Take your time…

Dusk fell. Though it was dark, the ashen shade–clouds formed from the ashes of Mount Wardhana–was still visible. It had been drizzling since they left for their task. The ash rain intensified, although slightly. Legends said that their ancestors had skins as white as the snow of Praskovia, and eyes as blue as the skies of Heiligsplat. Ever since they settled in Mananggal, their skins began acknowledging the beauty in every drop of Mount Wardhana's ashes. And thus they adopted their tint. Their eyes turned bright-amber to cope with the harsh ashen wind of the island continent. Only then do they learn why no one else made Mananggal their home. The struggle was atrocious, but they triumphed in the end; their society still stood to this day. No one knew exactly when the Great Transformation happened. Chroniclers still couldn't agree whether it was before or after the ascension of Mangkuprawan I to the throne. It was four thousand years ago, a story lost to time. One thing that bothered Wati was how settlers from all around Hag-Elslag didn't go through the same transformation. Maybe they didn't live there long enough? Or maybe they weren't as susceptible to the ambiance of Mananggal the way Dankers were? Only the Almighty Three knew.

“Aryo,” Wati said, admiring every drop that fell from the sky. Torches and lanterns lit all around allowed her to notice the increasing drop of ashes. “Thank you for saving me today.” She continued.

Wati felt his hand stroking her right arm.

“You're welcome.”

A sudden repeating tinkle caught Wati's attention. To her right was a Danker with a blue wooden cart. It had two wheels and an arching shelter above held by four sticks. The top of the cart was metallic. Stacks of disposable cups crafted out of dried Nyambek hide sat on them.

“Oh!” Wati pointed her right index towards it. “Putyr!”

Before Aryo could say anything, Wati already run off toward the vendor. She waited until the two other Dankers were served before stating her order. She gave the vendor two silver coins in turn for two cups of Putyr. It was a sweet freezing treat. It mainly had a white color with a smooth and silky texture. Wati was a huge fan of them. Both her original and foster parents always stopped Putyr vendors whenever they passed by their house. It was never a bad day for Wati after a cup of Putyr. She excitedly twitched in place as the vendor took three scoops into one cup, and another three for the other. The vendors finally gave her the cups. Two small and thin wooden spoons were sticking out of the Putyrs.

“Here.” Wati handed one to Aryo.

Aryo took it. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

As she scooped the Putyr with her spoon, she heard crying from across the street. She raised her gaze. She found a Danker child pulling on his mother's shirt. He was pointing at the Putyr vendor, asking his mother to get him one. His mother refused due to financial reasons. She noticed that the child had a necklace of Ber Ang teeth. It was the child she saw at the refugee camp. It was no wonder why the mother wasn't willing to get him one.

Wati placed the spoon back into the cup. She rose and approached the distressed child just as they were about to walk away. She greeted the mother and immediately turned to the child. He noticed her as well. Wati smiled as she handed the Putyr to him. He might have whined for a Putyr. But at least he didn't cry hysterically when his mother decreed ‘no’. That was a feat for a Danker of his age, and that deserved a reward. Wati told them that. The mother was grateful and apologized for not being able to provide anything in return. Wati told them that it was fine. The child was even more grateful. He promised her that he wouldn't ask his mother for something that she couldn't afford anymore. Wati gave a thumbs up and gently patted his shoulder.

Wati took a deep breath as she sat back down beside Aryo. The Danker was chewing the Putyr in his mouth slowly. It seemed like he was enjoying it like it was his last. Good for him, Wati thought. Suddenly he put the spoon he was holding and pulled out another, looking at Wati while doing so. Wati gave a perplexed face, wondering when he got that. Aryo merely flashed his eyebrows.

“Thank you,” Wati said as she took the extra spoon.

Aryo turned slightly toward her so that the Putyr was between them. Wati took a scoop. She closed her eyes and twitched her arms in joy as the cold treat melted in her mouth. Its smooth texture sowed ethereal sweetness all over her insides. She opened her eyes and met Aryo’s face. He only chuckled silently as he was chewing presumably another scoop. Wati took another one. She smiled and tilted her head flirtatiously as she chewed the piece in her mouth. Aryo only flashed his eyebrows. At least he was smiling. They were about to be punished afterward. But to them, those punishments didn’t deserve a glimmer of thought. They instead focused on the warmth of each other’s presence like they always did. Wati kept her gaze on Aryo. And Aryo did the same. As long as they were together, everything would be fine.