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“Pahua, what on Pachil are you doing here?” My father growls through gritted teeth.

“Father!” Pahua says, hands in the air with feigned indignation. “You’re not pleased to see me?”

“You’re supposed to be in Haqiliqa,” Siunqi says. “You were not to come here. Why are you not with Cheqansiq?

“You didn’t think I’d let Walumaq have all the fun, did you?” Pahua struts around like a rooster, occasionally looking down to inspect my belongings with disdain.

“You are to return to the ships at once,” Siunqi barks, grabbing Pahua by the arm and pulling him out of the room.

“Oh, but father!” Pahua says, shrugging off Siunqi’s grip. “Not before dinner. We’ve been invited as guests, and we mustn’t be rude.”

“We’ve been invited,” Siunqi says, pointing a thumb at himself and me, “You can return to Sanqo.”

“Actually,” Pahua says with a smug smile, “Iatuq has invited me, as well. She’s confused as to why I wasn’t present when you two had your discussions. I’m inclined to agree with her on that.”

“Because you’re going to ruin our efforts at gathering information about what’s happening within Tapeu!” Siunqi shouts in frustration.

“No matter,” Pahua says as if he hadn’t heard Siunqi’s response. “I’ll see you at the dinner. We can go over what was discussed while we eat. I hear they’ve roasted four boars! Four!”

Pahua bows exaggeratedly, then whisks himself away and out of the room. Father closes his eyes and rubs his temples, breathing slow and deep to calm himself.

“Is he going to stay, father?” I ask, concerned about how Pahua’s presence will affect Siunqi’s mission. With a huff, Siunqi responds.

“We’ll put on a brave face and attempt to minimize the damage he’s likely to cause. However, first thing in the morning, I will likely send the two of you back, to prevent him from making the waters any more turbulent.”

My heart sinks with the thought I’ll have to leave before I can find that woman who approached me in the marketplace. I need to learn what she means by me being “the uniter” and how Pachil is unstable — and how I can either save the world or destroy it.

I change into an outfit I packed for just an occasion: a long dress with a blueish green color that reminds me of the waters around Sanqo, enhanced by how the dress flows behind me as I walk. The fabric has a shine to it like the sun reflecting off the water, sparkling in the torchlight. Both the color and the shimmer pairs wonderfully with the bronze necklaces and bracelets I wear. And the seamstress, hearing my request, did me a favor by crafting a long matching scarf of deep blue and an almost copper threading that I can wrap around my head to subtly conceal my scar, much to my relief.

Siunqi fetches me, striding in with a deep blue tunic and a long, thick sash made of bronze and teal threads draped over his shoulder. The pattern woven into the garment reminds me of fish scales, and much of his bronze jewelry are crafted to resemble the sea serpent, our family’s sigil. He looks at me and smiles warmly, extending and offering his hand, which I happily accept.

“When did you become a spitting image of your mother?” he says. “So grown, so poised.”

I blush with slight embarrassment, but I’m also filled with excitement and nervousness. Though I’ve attended dinners with nobles before, the Sanqo people are… not as refined, to put it kindly. The affairs are typically loud and boisterous, with numerous challenges for feats of strength and skill being declared after much drinking. The women tend to sit off to the side and out of the way, free to gossip about the latest rumors they’ve overheard. These scenes were never ones in which I much cared to participate, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. The regality I’ve witnessed so far in Chalaqta, however, is both thrilling and unsettling.

“Father, it’s all so breathtaking, and a little overwhelming,” I say. “I know there are some underlying circumstances, but I can’t believe we’re here!”

“Indeed, my dear,” Siunqi nods, his voice filled with affection. “Remember that, amidst the splendor, it’s the strength of our character and the kindness we show that truly define us.”

“I want to make you and our people proud,” I say with determination. While I am eager to experience another faction’s customs and culture, at the same time, I don’t want to misrepresent the Sanqo people. And with Pahua around, I know I’ll especially have to be on my best behavior.

“You have always made me proud, my daughter,” Siunqi says, squeezing my arm a little. “Your courage and compassion shine brighter than any star in the night sky. Our true worth lies not in titles or riches, but in the love we hold for each other and the goodness we bring to the world.”

Hearing his words and sentiment remind me why I revere my father so greatly. The Sanqo people exude a rugged spirit, unyielding and resilient, their attitudes akin to the ocean’s tempestuous might. There is much to admire about our people embodying the fierce spirit of the sea and the power of our ancient lineage, yet I can understand how it must be off-putting to those not accustomed to our unwavering ways.

Siunqi, on the other hand, has always maintained a steadiness even during the most turbulent waters. Sure, there are times when he embodies Sanqo characteristics, strictly adhering to our customs, his bull-headedness when he has come to a conclusion, and being exuberant like a fisherman regaling his mates with the tallest of tales. As a leader, however, he approaches each challenge head on, yet with the calmness of the sea in the morning. Outwardly, he can be stubborn and unsentimental, but with his family, though his expectations are like casting a line into the celestial sea, I know that he only does so because he wants what’s best for us, something my mother and I have discussed at length on countless occasions.

“Now,” Siunqi says, finally breaking the moment of silent reassurance that passed between us, “they say we Sanqo are the loudest in all of Pachil. Let’s put that to the test tonight, shall we? I’ll make sure our hosts remember our arrival!”

With us both laughing, he leads me into the large dining chamber, with my arm hooked around his. In the room, well lit by countless torches, we’re greeted with a procession of respectful bows and curtseys from the Tapeu nobles. Each one wears a distinct and unique arrangement of gold or silver jewelry, embedded with an array of different jewels and stones, which I deduce is a recognition of where they’re from in Tapeu, and their tight-fitting orange and red outfits accentuate a wide range of body shapes and figures.

Before us is a variety of food from practically every corner of the continent, the size of which could befit an army. Multiple spit-roasted boars and chickens, fillets of trout and salmon from the nearby waters, the flayed head of a cow — into which someone has already begun scraping off meat from the cheek — countless potatoes, yams, and ears of maize, breads made from the wheat and grain harvested in Aimue, and a rainbow of colorful fruits from the jungles of Achope on the other side of the mountains.

“Father!” we hear exclaimed above all the chatter. Sure enough, Pahua strides over to us, already chomping on the leg of a chicken he swiped from the table. He has foregone the cape and wears nothing more than a long, teal hip cloth. His black hair falls to his shoulder, and his chest is adorned with numerous bronze necklaces and not much else — an effort, I’d assume, to display his youthful, toned body. It’s far from formal, and Siunqi is visibly disgusted by his appearance for such an occasion.

“You’d think with such tight garments,” Pahua says with not-so-subtle revulsion as he looks around the room, “they’d be inclined to be physically fit.”

Before Siunqi has a chance to respond, loud, robust musical notes from wooden trumpets, conical like the horns of a bull and decorated with dangling shreds of orange, yellow, red, and purple fabrics, announce the entrance of Iatuq. She arrives alone, which catches my father by surprise, so much so that he makes his displeasure known with a scoff. While the dress is tightly wrapped like everyone else’s, Iatuq’s outfit starts with white fabric at her ankles, and then moving your attention up the garment, the colors gradually change to yellow, then a light orange, then burnt orange at the part that is very low cut, and finally a deep red, which flows all the way around her shoulders into bell-like sleeves. Hearing Siunqi grumble, I can tell he very much disapproves. I tell him that I would never be seen in such an outfit, but I’m not sure he could hear me over the fuming going on in his head.

Father and I are placed between multiple nobles from small regions out in the Tapeu countryside. Pahua, on the other hand, ignores his seating arrangement and plants himself next to Iatuq, much to the dismay of the noble originally designated for that spot. Although I try my best to pay attention to the conversation taking place around me, all the nobles are so similar that I catch myself mixing up details about each one with the other guests. They talk over one another to discuss all of their possessions and properties in constant one-upmanship. I smile along and intermittently allow my attention to drift to Pahua, who is laughing along with Iatuq and placing his hands on hers quite frequently. Siunqi glances over occasionally to monitor Pahua and, upon seeing the suggestive behavior, starts to get up from his chair, about to walk over to say something, but I place my hand on his forearm and encourage him to not cause a scene. With a grumble, Siunqi concedes and sits back down.

At a certain point in the dinner, the guests are ushered into another, much larger room, where we are met with musicians and dancers. The hall is one I recall walking past yesterday, lavishly decorated in numerous gold, orange, and red lanterns that create a warm feeling to the room, like being hugged by a sunset. A few of the tapestries that hung in the hallway leading from the entrance of the palace have been moved here to cover the bare and nondescript stone — and assist in dampening the unfortunately discordant music as well as all the discussions taking place. Everyone’s span of colorful outfits, utilizing an aspect of the Tapeu orange and red along with their house’s representative colors, bring much-needed vividness and vitality to an otherwise dull and drab room.

Siunqi is caught up mingling with a few patrons tripping over themselves to engage trade agreements with him and attempting to outdo the other competitors. Father remains stoic throughout, making it difficult for me to tell if he’s bored with their discussions or relishing the attention. Perhaps it’s a third option, which is he’s concentrating on not stampeding over to Pahua and removing him from the hall with force. Either way, I’m left off to the side and stand by myself, something of which I’m very familiar.

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Rather than risk having more conversations about nobles’ vacation homes or riches accumulated by trade with the Achope, I slink over to the far end of the room, away from the socializing masses gathered near the musicians, and slip outside into a dimly illuminated terraced garden overlooking the city. Sporadic torches light sections of the street, and the front of many homes and other buildings are barely noticeable before the rest of the structure becomes swallowed up by the night. Mercifully, it’s peaceful outside compared to the raucous festivities in the hall, and I lower my hood to enjoy listening to nothing but the breeze rustling leaves and the chorus of insects chirping and buzzing.

While taking in the sights of the night, I see a tall shadowy figure slowly creep along the wall from the corner of my eye. It doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, and as the silhouette stalks closer to me, a knot forms in my stomach. Panicked, I look around for a guard and step back slowly to the hall. I grow concerned when I don’t see anyone at their designated posts and start to imagine conspiratorial theories: could they have been paid off by this assassin, who was hired by the Tapeu after we were lured here by the false rumors of a rebellious faction?

Near me is an unlit torch lying on the ground, having fallen out of the holder on the wall. Without making any sudden moves, I gradually lower myself into a crouch and extend my hand, stretching out until it feels the wooden shaft. I roll the torch closer to me with the tips of my fingers, but progress is stopped when it gets stuck in a crack between the stones. By now, the figure is a few steps away, so I urgently clutch the torch and coil with my arms, ready to swing in self defense.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the slightly high-pitched and nasally voice of a man says with a bit of alarm. “Thought I was out here by myself. Didn’t mean to alarm you.”

The man steps into the light, and I begin to see the person speaking to me. Despite the voice, he’s tall and slightly lanky like a sapling, the typically tight-fitting Tapeu clothing somehow managing to hang loosely off his arms. He possesses a strong jawline with a slightly square shape, yet somehow exudes a boyish charm with large, expressive brown eyes. His high cheekbones and straight nose make him appear molded by a sculptor and almost unnatural. He has thick, tousled chestnut brown hair that falls just above his shoulders, making it difficult to determine if his appearance is put together without any effort or without any idea on how to do so.

“Oh, wow,” he says almost entirely as a gasp. “Has anyone told you how blue your eyes are?”

“A few times,” I say. I wait for him to next comment on my scar, but to my amazement, it never comes.

“Tonatli,” he says after a brief pause, realizing I’m not embellishing the comment about my eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Err, my name. It’s Tonatli.”

He nervously extends his right hand, prepared to shake mine as if completing a business transaction. Trepidatiously, I set the torch down and meet his hand with mine, and he bobs the conjoined parts up and down.

“I’m not really good at parties,” he confesses. “Too many people, and they all want something from you, all the time. And even then, I feel as though I can never get a word in anyway. Socializing has always been my sister’s thing.”

He turns to face the cityscape of Chalaqta and gazes out into the black with a sigh. He seems perfectly content with letting the conversation end there, and I’m a bit perplexed at what I should do next — do I ask him about himself or return to the hall? I decide on the latter and nod my head as if I said a farewell despite not uttering a peep.

“Are you wearing Sanqo colors intentionally,” he says, interrupting my departure, “or did you select something to wear that pairs with your eyes?”

“A little bit of both, I suppose,” I say, “although I didn’t have much say in the outfit, apart from the scarf. But we are all Sanqo.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asks, and I’m a bit surprised. Wouldn’t a noble know the ruling families of the factions, especially one that is a prolific trading partner located so close to their homeland? After all, he knew I wore Sanqo colors.

“My father, Siunqi, and I,” I say, stammering a bit, “and Pahua.” It’s difficult for me not to respond condescendingly, though I’m sure I proceeded to do so anyway and immediately feel guilty. Tonatli doesn’t seem to notice and considers my response, then nods approvingly and returns his focus beyond the palace walls.

“Ah, that must be who my parents are adamant to talk to,” Tonatli says. I ask him who his parents are, but it seems his head is flooded with other distracting thoughts, since he never answers me.

“Care to indulge me with what your parents want with my father?” I attempt to get his attention to carry on the conversation.

“I don’t actually know, to be honest,” he says. “They don’t really talk to me about their business matters. They used to tell me stuff, but I guess my father realized I’m not interested in carrying on the family business.”

“And what business is that?” I inquire.

“Secrets.”

“I beg your pardon, again?”

“Well, technically ‘politics’,” he clarifies. “Both of them began as merchants — it’s kind of how they met: They were both their closest competitors and decided a merger would be in both of their best interests.”

“Having two children, I suppose their merger occurred in more ways than one,” I jest. Either the joke is not as humorous as I thought it was or he’s heard it so many times that he’d rather not acknowledge it. Without any sign he heard me, he continues discussing his family’s history.

“They eventually decided to marry, and after earning a fortune in both wealth and influence from trading wool and animal skins, they decided to focus on utilizing their connections and the compromising information they had on Tapeu nobility to get into politics. I suppose they find greater value in political power than wealth.”

He’s surprisingly transparent, which I wasn’t expecting from someone associated with high society, especially with how his parents supposedly conduct business. Somehow, I find it oddly refreshing and appreciate his honesty.

“So did they buy their way to status?” I ask. This power structure in Tapeu is completely mystifying.

“Pretty much,” he says nonchalantly. “You can earn wealth slowly by doing so the honest way, or you can earn much more and quicker by doing so the dishonest way.”

“And how do you feel about this?” I ask out of genuine curiosity, anticipating he will give me an uncannily direct answer.

“It feels a bit dishonorable, but they have the Arbiter’s ear, so I guess gossip and blackmail is just the Tapeu way of doing business.”

Considering everything my father has told me about politics and dealing with nobility, it’s a welcomed reprieve to have seemingly met someone who isn’t giving in to the status quo of Tapeu. Sure, there’s always the chance he could be misleading me, pretending he doesn’t know of my father and me, but I’d like to think I stumbled upon the eye of the Tapeu political storm.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he says, embarrassed. “I already forgot your name.”

“That’s because I never actually gave it to you,” I say. He chuckles, and perhaps it’s because I believe he genuinely forgot to ask and isn’t trying to finagle a political favor with Siunqi through the leader’s daughter, I find it incredibly endearing.

“Walumaq,” I say.

“Wow, that’s pretty,” he says. “Do you know what it means?”

“Supposedly, it’s ‘One Who Will Lead Us Home’. At least, that’s what my mother tells me.”

“That’s amazing,” he says with childlike wonder in his voice. I start to feel like this enthusiasm is some act, that he’s teasing me just as everyone else always has, especially considering he has shown little regard to much else, since no one could be this veritably interested. With a tinge of disappointment, he continues, “I actually don’t know what my name is supposed to mean. I’m jealous when anyone knows the meaning behind their names.”

“Well, I like it all the same,” I say reassuringly.

There’s yet another pause in the conversation, both of us looking back out into the night. If this is a performance, then he is very good. Yet somehow, I find him to be authentic and charming in his awkward way. All I can hope for is that he is as truthful and honest as he appears.

“You said you have a sister,” I say, finally breaking the silence. “Is she here? What does she do?”

Tonatli is about to respond when we’re interrupted by a loud burst of laughter. Pahua emerges from the hall, chuckling, and has his arm wrapped around a young Tapeu girl. Her face is brightened not only by the torchlight, but also from laughing along with him, as she fondly gazes upon him. Her tight wrap dress is a simple orange with gold trim, and her long, black hair is held up at the back of her head by a gold pin inset with turquoise.

“Walumaq!” Pahua exclaims. “I see you’ve actually made a friend! Who is this tall reed of a man?”

“I’m Tonatli,” he says, extending his hand. Pahua looks down at the hand with exaggerated confusion and scoffs, waving it away dismissively.

“We’re out here to get some fresh air,” Pahua says. His speech is slurred, and judging by the amount of swaying, I’d guess he’s had much to drink while he’s been entertaining in the hall.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” he asks, looking down at the woman he’s hoisting up. Before she answers, he interrupts. “Doesn’t matter. What are you two talking about?” Pahua points at Tonatli and me in a playfully accusatory manner, or at least his version of being ‘playful’.

“We were talking about how stuffy parties like these can be,” I said. I didn’t want to divulge any more than that — about Tonatli’s parents and their current business of political blackmail — for fear of Pahua possibly weaponizing it. Tonatli, innocent and not knowing how deceptive Pahua can be, fills in more details, much to my dismay.

“We were discussing our parents,” Tonatli says, “about her being from Sanqo and my parents, Aluxeqwel and Teqotlo, being–“

“Wait,” Pahua says with an astonished laugh, “you’re their son?” His realization of who I’ve been speaking to makes me wince. “Sun and sky! Wait until our father hears about this!”

“Oh, you two are related?” Tonatli finally concludes.

“You wouldn’t know it by looking at us,” Pahua says disdainfully. “I’m the handsome and intelligent one and she’s…” He waves his hand around, searching for an insult. Fortunately for me, he’s too drunk to create one.

Before the words come to him, we are all mercifully interrupted by one of the attendants of the palace. He’s a short, bald man with pursed lips and an expression permanently fixed to his face as if he’s smelling something repugnant.

“Quraqa Tonatli,” the man says, sounding annoyed, “your mother and father have been searching for you everywhere. They are turning in for the evening and suggest you do the same, since it will be a long journey back to Qapauma.”

Tonatli lets out a loud sigh and nods in acceptance, letting the servant know that he’ll be along soon.

“Well, Wasonaq, and…” he waits for Pahua to introduce himself, but when he doesn’t offer his name, Tonatli continues, “thank you for making this a most pleasant evening.”

Before I have a chance to correct him about my name, he bids me farewell and takes off toward the hall. All I can do is chuckle at the utter absurdity of the entire interaction, but Tonatli is correct in that our engagement was the most pleasant part of the evening.

“Father!” Pahua shouts out of nowhere, calling to someone behind my shoulder. I turn to see Siunqi looming over me, glaring at Pahua.

“Wouldn’t you know,” Pahua says, “I just happened to meet Teqotlo and Aluxeqwel’s son.” Siunqi stares daggers at Pahua, though I don’t think my brother has received the message.

“Looks like I’ve made an invaluable connection in my short time here already, wouldn’t you agree?” says Pahua. Siunqi doesn’t change his expression, scowling at Pahua with nostrils flaring.

“Aww, father! I thought you’d be happy to hear of this news! No matter. We can discuss in the morning. I’m off to get to know…” Pahua looks down at the young girl again, “someone… a little better.” She giggles as he smiles down at her. The two laugh uproariously as they walk off toward the hall.

“What was that about?” I ask Siunqi. He’s still seething and staring at Pahua and his companion while they walk away as he answers me with a question of his own.

“Is it true that he met with Tonatli?”

I nod, and mention that Pahua had actually interrupted my conversation with Tonatli. I can’t determine if Siunqi heard me entirely, as his face retains the same scowl.

“Who is this Teqotlo and Aluxeqwel that Pahua is so excited to know about?” I ask.

Siunqi glances to his left and right. Once he confirms nobody is around, he gets close to my ear and talks in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.

“I–“ he says, then unenthusiastically corrects himself, “Pahua and I… learned about them, and what their ‘business’ entails. From what I have gathered, and based on their proximity to the Arbiter, they might be the best source for the information we need to learn about the insurgents. And now that you have been introduced to their son, you will arrange a meeting with them.”