The city’s waking hours were over and it had quickly turned into a bustling metropolis to rival the capital. Nana counted her blessings as it allowed her to blend into the crowd more easily.
She and Rei had disguised themselves in the green robes of the Gunari’s agents that ran around the Empire to remind the citizens of his power and influence, Listeners.
Every city had a complement of them, generally six per neighborhood, who did little more than pace around, record absolutely everything they heard and bind it into ever growing rolls of parchment. When these were full, they were sent to the capital where higher placed Giya would go over them, collect any parchments that sounded even vaguely suspicious and then sent them on to be investigated by other imperial agents.
Nana found the whole business a waste of time, resources and marubu, but she assumed the Gunari kept the system in place to keep the lower ranking from getting rebellious ideas.
The listeners uniforms were an unimposing green, consisting of wide trousers and jackets that were fashionable left open to show off the long blade at their sides and the short blade tucked into the waistbands. Though more important than showing off their blades was showing off the toned physique, the type that only people with too much free time to waste on sculpting their muscles to perfection.
It was a popular source of derision to farmers and lower placed hosseru, whose lifestyles led to functional muscles instead of the showy lean flesh that the Giya displayed.
Nana had tied the bottom of her open jacket with her belt, making sure the fabric covered her chest, even though anyone with the mind to look twice would be able to see through the thin green textiles.
Rei meanwhile, unlike her tassi, left the fabric to dangle so the wind could playfully tug at it and cool her down on a day that already promised to be sweltering.
They were following Sergeant Fujiko to the trading post and found themselves assailed on all sides by a throng of people that were either setting up stalls, hanging bunting, getting their best clothes out, or yelling about one of the former subjects. In some cases all three.
“Lot of people about,” Nana observed calmly, “More than I expected.”
“Of course,” Fujiko said brightly, momentarily forgetting who she had with her, “It’s the Oppufurikku.”
“The what?”
“It’s the festival to show the foreigners we wish them a safe journey back home.”
Nana nodded, almost tripped over a child, scowled at the girl that rushed into an alleyway, then sighed in relief when she saw what she assumed was the gate to the trading post.
The gate was a massive structure made of burned red wood and four times as tall as Nana. It was telling the gate was to keep the foreigners out instead of them safe however, as the massive wooden bar that would lock it rested in the dirt not far from the six guards. Six guards that currently stared at the people preparing the festivities, lazily lounging against the still closed gates or sitting in the dirt playing dice. A sense of envy hung from them, though all sense of self was forgotten when a war drum resounded through the streets.
They immediately got to their feet, their spears in hand and fell into a well rehearsed parade stance, their spears crossed and their back straight, all with a thousand yard stare on their face. Combined with their neatly polished tatami armors they suddenly looked like the elite soldiers they were supposed to be.
Nana looked over her shoulder just in time to see the first rows of the parade entering the street.
A line, six soldiers wide marched into the street, in time to the heavy beats of the drum behind them. Their brown lacquered armors had been polished until it reflected the early noon sun. They were followed by a group of Giya, mounted on black yellow-dotted beetles, who casually rested their lances on their shoulders, their faces hidden by helmets with terrifying demonic visages.
Finally, behind them, was the governor’s personal mount; A giant snail on top of which a palanquin had been fastened. A magenta canopy shielded the woman that ruled Choukishi and the surrounding towns as she smoked a pipe and waved halfheartedly at the peasants around her.
A wave nobody would even see, as the peasantry had retreated to the sides of the streets, where they pushed their heads into the sand and waited for the governor to pass.
Rei had dragged Nana to the side of the road and, like all other present Giya not part of the procession, they stood stiffly with their backs bowed and their hands on their knees, waiting just as quietly as the hosseru.
Nana glanced at her bondwoman from the corner of her eyes, noting that Rei was glaring daggers at the governor. She subtly kicked her in the shins to make sure she averted her eyes.
“Will this take long?” she whispered to Fujiko, whose face paled. She was unsure whether to answer the Dragonfly and risk the ire of the governor, or not answer and risk her ire. In the end, she decided that the Dragonfly was probably more dangerous than anything the governor had in store.
“Pretty long,” she said as quickly as possible, then glanced at the soldiers passing them by, making sure none of the procession had heard her.
“Great,” Nana sighed to herself, “More delays…”
Fujiko made a face that was an obvious silent demand for Nana to shut up, then resolutely fixed her eyes on the sand below her.
The six soldiers that guarded the gates to the trading post stepped apart in well rehearsed symmetry, forming the last of the human fence along the road that kept the peasants from stepping into the street proper.
Manwhile, the mounted warriors spread apart to let the round form of the giant snail through. Two of the governor’s personal guard were already rushing to place the ladder that would allow her to descend to the dirt.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The governor was a woman that cloaked herself in two things. Firstly, pink silks that billowed around her and dyed hair to match. Secondly, a cloud of tobacco smoke that painted the air around her with the scent of fresh raspberries.
She brought her pipe to her roundish face, which had been painted with venomous green smokey eyeliner, that covered almost the entire top half of her face, then brought the pipe to her lips, painted gold at the top and silver at the bottom.
By inhaling deep, she made her face even more pinched than it already was and even though she clearly had the world thrown at her feet since birth, she looked carefully at everything and everyone as if they were about to cheat her of oxygen even more than her pipe did.
She lowered the smoking instrument, waited a moment for the cinder to extinguish and collapsed it, hiding it in the folds of her robes only to replace it with a fan she lazily cooled herself with.
A rough beat of the war drum announced the proceedings to start.
The massive wooden doors opened to let out the delegation of foreigners, which interested Nana far more than the arrogant aristocrat.
The way was led by seven sailors in a V formation with one woman taking point, followed by two men, then two more women and finally two more men to close the ranks. They were dressed almost identically, in neat black sailor shirts with green topknots, the only variation between the men and women was that the women wore neat long skirts that cut off just above their socks, while the men wore tight pants that left little to the imagination.
All had flags on their shoulders, triangles that started with a red rim, followed by a white triangle and a small blue triangle in the center. They kept the flags on their shoulders like rifles, instead of the weapons they’d normally drill with.
They rose their flags in salute, pretended to fire them in the air, Nana was sure she saw one of the man make a ‘bang’-noise to himself, and finally dropped the flags to their side in a neat parade rest.
The first to follow them out was a man that was obese on the edge of morbid, bald against his will and squinting at the world around as if he had trouble seeing. He was dressed in a red velvet jacket, that might have fit some years ago, but living well had caught up with his physique. He had a tricorne in his hands, and even from a distance it was clear that his head had outgrown the hat. He said something to the woman that followed him, his jowls blubbering angrily as he did.
The black woman was little taller than he was, but somehow still appeared to tower over him. Her long blue coat fit around her slender form perfectly, accentuating her curves. Unlike her male counterpart, she had decided to go hatless, leaving her thick dreaded hair tied in a ponytail behind her. She walked with the airy grace of a dancer, but watched the world around her with the hawkish eyes of somebody always ready for trouble.
A crier was the last addition to the display, informing everyone around them in the most archaic language Nana had heard in some time who they had in front of them,.
After five minutes of titles, holdings and general sucking up, the crier concluded with , “The most serene Gi Susume! Governor of Choukishi! Appointed by heavenly providence!”
There was a polite clapping from the foreigners, which with some leeway could be called an applause. They were joined by one of the junior translators who gave them a quick summary of what had been said, then dropped to the dirt to make sure he didn’t look at the governor.
Nana held back a sigh of relief, then frowned when she saw a new party joining them. Two sailors, carrying a jute bag between them as if it were filled with something heavy, though from a distance it appeared to be filled with nothing.
They handed it to the bald man who muttered and nodded his thanks before turning to the governor. He announced himself as Esquire Denkel Pannkuch, which appeared to be the limit of his knowledge of the local language. He went on in his own, then ended by handing the jute bag to the governor while the interpreter rushed to inform her what was said. It was an amalgamation of niceties and kowtowing with very little sweet to the honey he was smearing.
The governor took the jute bag from the man, unable to hide her disgust at the bare-faced foreigner, and retrieved the contents of the bag. It was a single key, old and rusted and even if there was a lock on the door, it looked like it would crumble as soon as it made contact.
She started a speech, that was full of praise and grace to the foreigners and the services they brought to the country, though her tone indicated her clear disgust with the people before her, if she even considered them people.
She finished in what Nana assumed was a ‘thank you’ in their language, returned the key to the bag, then pushed it into the hands of one of her soldiers.
Without further ado, she turned, replaced her fan for her pipe and left in the same cloud of sweet scented smoke she had arrived in.
“Cute butt,” Kaba observed, baring her pearly whites in something resembling a smile, “Terrible attitude though.”
“Terrible business in general, this shithole of a country,” Pann kuch retorted, though without any venom to the words, “Unfortunately, we’re not done with this nonsense yet.”
“We’re not?” the captain asked, mildly amused as she followed Pannkuch back to the trading post, watching her sailors close the ranks behind them with a precision that silently made her proud.
“No,” Pannkuch sighed, dabbing his head with his handkerchief, “Because they didn’t see fit to send my replacement, I’m stuck here until somebody else comes.”
“So?”
“So, that woman, the governor, has to give the key to the new headman of the trading post…”
“Which is you,” Kaba added together, “Then this whole song and dance is superfluous.”
“Very much,” Pannkuch ageed, then coughed into the handkerchief before continuing to wipe the sweat from his brow, “But these people are sticklers for protocol as you may have noticed.”
Kaba arched a brow, waiting for an explanation.
“One of the interpreters told me that if they deviate too far from it, we might be visited by Dragonflies, whatever those are to these insect-obsessed folk.”
The woman laughed, throwing her head back as she did, “No wonder you drown yourself in booze and whores. This tedium… Pannkuch, I do not envy you.”
“At least the money’s worth it,” he said, though if he were trying to convince himself or her, she wasn’t sure.
“If you say so,” she continued to laugh, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, then turned when he heard the small door-within-the-gate open, “...And there come the flies.”
Fujiko was the first in, followed by Nana and Rei. The sergeant saluted the headman by hitting her left fist to her left chest.
Like many of the citizens of Choukishi, she had picked up a little of his language and used what she knew, peppered with a lot of gesturing, to indicate that Rei and Nana were listeners-to-be, assigned to the trading post and were, for now, to be left to their own devices.
Pannkuch responded to that by giving each of them a curt nod, then continued his litany of complaints against Imperial protocols, even though Kaba had stopped listening. Her green eyes rested on Rei.
“The little one looks delicious,” she observed, “Maybe I can add one more notch to my belt before I leave.”
“If you must,” Pannkuch sighed, “Be back in an hour so we can get this gravshit over with.”
She nodded, peeled away from the group of sailors that were congratulating themselves on a great performance, and hurried back to her own quarters.