“Hello!”

It was the fifth time already. Wati had never fancied slamming her hand against residential doors. She hated to intrude on anyone’s privacy but she had no choice. She wasn’t keen on enduring another set of punishments.

Wati withdrew from the embellished wooden door and looked up. The two-story house stood preceding a landscape of evening sky that amplified its grandeur. Its brown trapezoidal roof had a hook-like protrusion on each of its corners. Its polished sandstone walls made it an apparent stay for Dankers whose income far exceeded their expenses. Wishing ill was the last thing she wanted to do to anyone, but the house owner deserved some caustic deprecation.

“Not our lucky day…” Aryo said from behind her.

Wati returned to where Aryo stood with a face that clearly showed discouragement. But when she looked up toward Aryo’s face, she couldn’t help but smile as if she hadn’t been denied a response by ten consecutive houses.

“Never is,” Wati said, letting out a little chuckle.

“If these people actually pay their taxes, the war could have been over forty years ago.”

“Maybe even sooner than that.”

Aryo picked up his kite shield which was shaped like a reversed lancet arch and marched toward the door with steps that shook the world.

Wati grabbed his arm before he could go far. “Wait,” she said, pointing toward the front porch.

There were two antique chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Its turbulent steel frame looked like it could make enough to feed an average household for four days.

Wati flashed her eyebrows at Aryo. The latter only chuckled.

Aryo used the table on the front porch to reach the chandeliers. He did it with enough care not to slam his pointy helmet against the house ornaments. Meanwhile, Wati shifted the chairs to block the door. It wouldn’t do much but at least it would frustrate the owner. Imagining how his reaction would be gave her a sense of satisfaction. After Aryo stepped down, Wati used the table to reinforce the homemade barricade. Aryo gave one of the chandeliers to Wati. The two giggled as they walked back to their ride. They placed their loot in the wagon, alongside a stack of empty sacks. Wati heard a thudding noise as she climbed to the front seat. Someone from behind the door was pushing it against the chairs and the table. She couldn't care less.

Aryo whipped the leather straps and the two two-legged lizards with an ellipsoid head dragged the wagon down the road.

The wagon drove through a marketplace. The road was littered with strips of vegetables, used packs, fruit wastes, cut cattle appendices, and literal rotten goods. They mixed into a heap of filth that people were indifferent to. Hundreds of vendors actively reached out to passersby, offering their goods which were often identical to what their neighbors were selling. Their voices sank amidst the overly crowded streets. Their stands were packed so tightly that they overlapped.

Looking at the list of subjects made Wati sigh.

“Don't worry,” Aryo said. “There's still plenty down the road. We can meet our quota for today.”

Wati groaned. “No, Aryo. How long are we going to let them do this? They owned the majority of the Sultanate’s wealth; they should be the ones covering the majority of the Sultanate’s expenses.”

“I agree. But I can’t do anything about it so…” Aryo shrugged.

“First, they didn’t do their part. Next, they were first in line to acquire benefits from the Sultanate. Why does the Sultan give away the state’s wealth to the already wealthy?”

“That's a bold claim from someone whose parents were Councilors of the Great House that advocates economic privatization.”

Wati immediately glared at Aryo.

Aryo tensed up and drew a long breath. “My bad…”

Wati threw her right hand and squeezed Aryo's left cheek.

“Ow…stop it!” Aryo shoved Wati's hand away. “Can't you see I'm concentrating on the road?”

“They paid their taxes, okay,” Wati said with harmless irritation. “They even paid the taxes of their serfs.”

“A rare instance of the wealthy doing their part in society.”

Wati took a deep breath and rested her elbow on the adjacent armrest. The overcrowded road didn't stop a handful of kids from running after each other. They took advantage of vacant stands in a game of tag; some crammed themselves into the empty shelves.

Occasional street bards didn't even try to entertain. Their soulless voices and mediocre play only added to the ambient noises. Further down the road were those who were unfortunate enough to lose their shelters.

Wati looked at Aryo's serious face. She missed kissing his cheeks like she used to when they were little. She wondered whether maturity made them feel different. Thinking about it put a smile on her face.

Wati nudged Aryo's foot with hers.

“Stop,” he said, still looking to the front.

Wati's heart raced as she leaned against him. She wrapped her arms around his left arm, closed the gap between their thighs, and rested her chin on Aryo's dark gray shoulder plate.

“Aryo…” she said in a tone that showed her eagerness to taste his lips and tongue. “Please go out with me…” Wati fixed her unblinking eyes on him.

“What do you think we're doing right now?” Aryo briefly glanced at her.

“Don't you boys always wish for a girl who makes the first move?”

“I…do, but…” Aryo met Wati's eyes. “We've talked about this.”

“I'm just asking you to go out with me. You know…” Wati shrugged. “No interruptions, no rallies…just the two of us and nothing else.”

“You have to be more specific. I have been following you everywhere you go.”

“Because you love me, don't you?”

“Because you'll always get into trouble.”

“But you do love me, right?” Wati inched her head closer.

“As a friend.”

“Oh, Aryo…when will you be truthful to yourself?”

Aryo sighed. “Alright, fine. I'll go out with you.”

Wati gasped in excitement.

“Not now though,” Aryo said. “Also, can you please let go of my arm? We're garnering attention.”

Wati looked around and saw none of the Dankers on the road paid attention to them. She counted one or two, but their expressions were indifferent.

“Let's visit that clothier in the Gendhak An district,” Wati said, still clinging to Aryo’s arm. “I heard my wishlist is on sale.”

Wati lit up lanterns as the day grew darker. The two came across other soldiers along the way. Some were levying taxes like them, some were guarding the outposts, some were on patrol, and some were controlling the dense traffic.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

The main highway led them along a shoreline. Aryo whipped the two nyambek, telling them to pull the wagon faster. Wati inhaled a huge portion of fresher air and relaxed in her seat. She turned her gaze to the left, toward Mangkuprawan Hill, to kill time.

At the summit, the Royal Palace was accompanied by five ziggurats. Each belonged to a Great House that ruled under the Sultan's authority. Her father used to make frequent visits there. He never told her what was his business, only that she should never go there ever. Sadly, she would never know why unless she visited the place.

The scattered yellow lights beyond the shore illuminated an infinitesimal part of a wooden construction. Wati made out silhouettes of floating shacks and boats in the darkness. The latter was tied together to the shore to form a makeshift living space. Small pavilion-like structures made out of wood and wicker lay along the street, spaced five minutes apart. They were crowded like usual with people toasting their warm drink that probably cost them three or five pia.

Wati had no idea why they were given clusters of subjects that were separated by a two-hour ride. Luckily, the first three houses in the new cluster they went for submitted their taxes. The next bungalow-sized house looked like it hadn't been renovated in decades, leaving it unpleasant to look at. Just as she thought her job was going to be easier, she received no response from that house.

“They have fallen asleep already,” Aryo said from his seat.

Wati withdrew and climbed to her seat again. “This is ridiculous,” she said in frustration. “How are we supposed to meet our quota when we are given the shift where everyone is asleep?”

“No, our timing was correct. The distance we have to travel isn't.”

They could have left a few hours earlier but there were no wagons available.

“Also why is everyone already asleep at these hours? They should still be hanging around with their families.”

“Hard day at work maybe…too tired for family time.”

Wati noticed a Danker walking toward a house next to them. She checked out her list and compared it to the number of the house. It was their next subject. Without warning, Wati disembarked again and quickly marched toward them. The Danker noticed her and sped up. Wati quickened her pace in accordance. She caught him just as he was about to enter his house. With all her strength, Wati yanked and pinned him against the wall.

“Excuse me, Mr. Yanto,” Wati said. She wished it was Aryo who was in that position.

“G-get away from me!” Yanto struggled to break free of Wati but to no avail.

“You have been skipping taxes for six months, sir. If you didn't manage at least one, we are legally allowed to conduct a harsher measure against you.”

Aryo finally caught up to her. He had a kite shield in hand and casually closed the door to Yanto’s house.

“I dare you!” He then spat at Wati.

Wati indifferently wiped it off of her face. But at the same time, Aryo lurched at Yanto and threw him to the ground. He cried for help as Aryo sat on top of him and raised his right arm, ready to strike.

Wati grabbed Aryo’s arm. “Wait,” she said.

Wati walked closer to the man's head and gently brought her mouth beside his knife-like ear.

“If you don't comply,” she said. “We are allowed to seize your possession to compensate. If your possession isn't enough, then we'll take you to an internment camp where you will be subjected to hard labor until your debt to the Sultanate is paid.”

“I'm not paying any of you! You took my son away from me!”

Wati and Aryo traded looks.

“Well, how about this,” Aryo said. “Fist-fight me. If you win, we'll leave you alone. If you lose, you'll fulfill your obligation.”

“No!”

“I'll do it with no armor.”

The man still refused.

Wati sighed. “Fine, I'll do it. No armor, no weapons. How does that sound to you?”

A silence ensued.

“I'll take it.”

Wati stood up and began undoing her armor. Aryo blocked the entrance to Yanto’s house. She placed her armor plates and mail shirt nearby. The delinquent Danker raised his hands confidently. His serious face was fixed on Wati. He threw a couple of jabs into the air, flexing the strength of his brawny body. Those punches looked like they could knock her down easily, but Wati just smiled as she readied her stance.

“I warn you,” Wati said. “If you run away, you might face a tax collector worse than us.”

“Worse in fighting you mean?” He said, chuckling. “Sure, I'll take them too.”

He immediately charged toward her with his right hand pulled back. His cry filled the whole tiny street. When he was within the right distance from her, Wati bent and threw her right foot forward. He was about halfway of punching her when she landed a strike against his right abdomen. Wati straightened her posture and delivered a roundhouse to his left face. He was thrown to the ground and writhed. He stayed there until Aryo finished counting.

Aryo walked up to him. “Oh so you're only up against women, and even then she still beats you up?” He said.

Wati wore her armor again while Aryo tended to Yanto’s bruises.

“A deal is a deal,” Wati said as she stood before Yanto.

“Please…g-give me one more month. I promise I'll pay my tax.” The Danker prostrated before her.

“You've been due for six months, sir. Either you pay it or face internment.”

“No…no, please…” Tears began flowing down the Danker's cheeks. “Not the internment…just give me one more month, please…I promise…”

Wati and Aryo traded looks. Suddenly, they heard a noise coming from the house. Wati took the initiative. The shoddy interior lacked any form of furniture. The house was a single hallway with a kitchen at the end and two rooms: a bedroom and a bathroom. The source was from the bedroom. Wati was stunned to find six-month-old twins crying on a pile of cloth, presumably to compensate for a lack of cushion layer.

“Where's their mother?” Wati asked Yanto who was still crying.

“She left…j-just after she gave birth to them.”

“You said you have a son. Where is he?”

Yanto covered his face. “He died repelling a flock of kun skimmers.”

A small drawer sat just beside the door. There were a bunch of folded papers on it. She took the one on the top and read the content. It was a mortgage for the house. The other papers were letters that suggested that he wasn't meeting it either. Wati's hands fell and her sight was frozen to the floor. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

Wati put the paper down and brought up her tax subject list. She then crossed Yanto’s name before walking outside.

“We can put them in an orphanage while you do your time,” Aryo said to Yanto. “You get protection from the Sultanate too, you know?”

“Aryo…” Wati said.

Aryo turned to her with a curious look.

“Leave him.”

Aryo raised an eyebrow. Wati approached him with a forced conviction.

“Leave…him…”

Without waiting for him, Wati immediately headed back to the wagon. Though on the way, she could hear Aryo ordering the Danker to go inside.

Wati sat on her seat like she hadn't eaten for days. The nyambek growled as Aryo climbed to his seat. He aimed the ornate silver bracer attached to his right gauntlet at the dark gray chains around the wagon’s wheels that glowed light orange. The bracer flashed and the chains dissolved in a second.

He didn't immediately tell the nyambek to go. He was silent for a solid minute before turning his attention to Wati.

“How much do you cover?”

“A month's worth…”

Aryo took a deep breath. “Bless you.”

Wati felt her eyes welling up. She covered her face and sniffed. How could he be eligible for taxes? She thought the Sultanate was fair. How could they let this injustice be? How could they not be ashamed of themselves?

She joined the army — the PNS (Prawir Ndoro Sultan, or the Armed Forces of Makmu Sultanate) — as a first step to protect the interest of her people, the impoverished in particular. She had made a promise to her parents once and she had to keep it because it was the only legacy that they had passed down on her. How could she face her parents’ resting grounds knowing that she was doing otherwise?

Wati felt a hand on her right shoulder plate. Aryo kept his eyes on her. His sympathetic face radiated a warmth that messed with her sadness. Wati caught her breath, not knowing what to feel. Her heart kept leaping between melancholy, serenity, and limerence. Before she realized it, she had stared into the eyes of her childhood friend that she had grown up with. Wati sniffed and wiped her reflective eyes.

“I'm…”

“Take your time,” Aryo said. “I'm not letting you see the next subject looking like that.”

“C-can I…?”

Without uttering it, Aryo immediately leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. Wati returned it. A smile formed on her face as she pressed her body to him. They took a moment to look at each other as soon as they let go.

“Kiss?”

“No.”

Wati chuckled. “Well, I was joking anyway,” she said. She knew she was lying.