“Alright, let me handle this,” said Schwarz, drawing his sword in a lazy, almost nonchalant manner as he stepped forward.
“Sir Schwarz, no!” Samudra hissed, panic flashing in his eyes. He reached out to stop him, but Schwarz had already moved ahead.
“Back up!” one of the villagers shouted, their hands trembling as they aimed their rifles. The torches cast flickering shadows on their gaunt faces, fear and desperation written in every line of their bodies. “You’re not welcome here!”
“But why?” Samudra interjected, his voice filled with genuine confusion. “I am the prince, come to save this kingdom from destruction! We are here to end the aggression of my uncle, Prince Barabar.”
“Save it,” a young woman spat from the crowd. “You’re not here to save us. You’re here to keep us Unclean. You and your accursed brother want to keep us picking up dung and cleaning streets for eternity.”
“It looks like the prince’s uncle is more popular than we realized…” said Lulupo, still holding onto Carne with his hair.
Shaska blew some smoke and stepped forward, saying “look, villagers, I get that you–”
“You’re a foreigner! A damned fish freak! You’d never understand the struggles of the Unclean in this country! We’ve been forced to pick up crap and wash toilets for centuries!”
The leader of the small brigade stepped forward. “And don’t think we don’t recognize you, Shaska.”
“Ah, crap,” was all Shaska could muster.
“The incident in the Provinces was worldwide news! You’re responsible for the deaths of twenty thousand innocent people!”
Shaska rolled her eyes and muttered “that’s gonna follow me for a while.” She pulled out a huge stack of cash and started counting it while puffing on her cigar. “Alright, guys, I’ve heard losas are still good even in other countries. How much is it gonna take to make this go away? Everyone has a–”
“We don’t want money!” shouted a young man. “We want liberation! We want equality!”
Shaska rolled her eyes again, then raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. “You don’t want equality. People aren’t free if they’re eq–”
“You think we’re free?!” the young man shouted again. “We will never be free if we’re stuck shoveling crap for the rest of our lives!”
Shaska blew smoke again and turned to her employees. “Well, I’m out of ideas.”
“Violence is the language of the unheard, darling,” said Lulupo, resting his head on his hand. “Maybe we should listen to what they have to say.” He stepped forward, and the villagers cocked their guns. “Now, darlings, you’re not unclean to me, you–”
One of them shot at him, but he promptly stopped the bullet with his hair. “Hm. How rude,” he said, slightly miffed.
“We don’t want foreign intervention! This is a Panipuri problem that only the natives of Panipuri could possibly understand! You think we want foreign intervention after the war we went through five years ago?!”
The leader of the villagers spoke up again, lowering his gun. “We don’t care where you go. Go to Shahar if you want. Help your brother. But you will not stay in Gaanv. You will not use our services just to keep us as street sweepers in the end. We will defeat your brother’s forces on the battlefield and end our centuries of servitude.”
Samudra swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the angry, determined faces before him. “You… you say you’re all Unclean. But where are the priests? The warriors? The merchants?”
“Dead,” the leader said coldly. “We killed them. We’re not going to live under their boots anymore. Only when the last noble is strangled with the guts of the last priest will we be free.”
Samudra’s face paled. “I… I didn’t know it had come to this.”
“Of course you didn’t,” spat a young woman. “You’ve never had to live like us. You’ve never shoveled crap or scrubbed the floors of the palace. Leave our village. We don’t need your kind here.”
Samudra turned his back on the villagers, his heart heavy with the weight of their words. He had never seen such hatred in the eyes of his people before. Worldwide Smoke followed him, their footsteps crunching in the dirt as the villagers watched in silence, guns still raised.
“We’ll acquire disguises in Shahar,” Samudra said quietly, barely audible. His shoulders slumped as he led the way north toward the capital. “Perhaps… we can still prevent the worst.”
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In the city of Baagee, Barabar swirled his wine glass, letting the dark liquid catch the flickering candlelight. His lips curled into a smile as he dialed the numbers on his telephone.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he began smoothly. “I trust you are prepared for the task at hand.”
Five airships were on their way to the port of Nagar at the mouth of the Nadee RIver, each oriented toward the same purpose: killing the crown prince. In each of them sat a man with a telephone.
“If my understanding is correct, you five are some of King Balthasar’s top enforcers. Assassins seeking utopia forcefully. I am glad to have you all on my side,” Barabar said, sipping his wine. “When Balthasar von Ragnar is reintroduced to the world with this conquest, we too shall be closer to utopia. It is our mission to–”
“Yes, yes,” a gruff voice interrupted. “We know why we’re here. ‘Liberate society from the shackles of the hegemony of the United Provinces and the Global Federation, achieving Heaven on Caldris. No need to explain it to us.”
“Frankly,” began another, more androgynous voice. “I’m reluctant to do this over the phone. You never know who might be listening.”
“Well, thank you for coming on such short notice anyway,” Barabar continued. ““Let’s begin with the roll call, shall we?” Barabar’s voice was smooth as silk, but there was an edge of malice to it. “Ubitsa.”
“Here,” came the low, gravelly response. The towering man’s scarred knuckles clenched as he leaned back, his enormous battle axe gleaming ominously in the dim light.
“Gaborielle.”
“Present,” the androgynous figure replied, a trace of amusement in his voice as he twirled a lock of his long blue hair, his sharp eyes betraying an unsettling level of calm.
“Kandar.”
“Mm? Oh, yeah… here,” mumbled the man in the black cloak, lazily exhaling a puff of skunk-scented smoke, his turban casting shadows over his lethargic expression.
“Cazimir.”
“Let’s get this over with,” snapped the man with the scarred face, his pristine suit in sharp contrast to the violence etched into his skin. His fingers twitched toward his sword.
“Corcoran.”
A plucking of bass notes punctuated the silence before the short man in white, with a massive pink afro, took a drag of his cigarette. “Here. Ready for some fun.”
“Good. Everyone is present,” said Barabar. “Now, I’m sure you’re all aware of the plan: while my reactionary nephew is distracted with my invasion during his coronation tomorrow, you will sneak into the palace and execute him.”
“I have a question,” said “Gaborielle”, twirling his hair around his manicured finger. “How are we going to get there in time for the coronation? This country is big, and based off the maps we got, our only landing spot is at the port in the south.”
“I have chartered several great rukh birds to aid in that. While the trip from Nagar to Shahar would take several days on foot, the trek will only take several hours by bird,” Barabar replied.
“Remember, the prince must be dead before King Balthasar makes his appearance. Otherwise, he will have all of our heads,” he added.
“So… like… can we get some, like, sleep now?” Kandar asked, puffing on his pipe and blowing a cloud of skunk-scented smoke. “I’m tired, man…”
“Ugh, I can smell that stuff from here,” said Cazimir. “Have you been hanging out with Doctor Feelgood again?”
Kandar simply smiled and laughed a dopey laugh.
“You all have a good night. Utopia awaits tomorrow,” said Barabar, hanging up the phone.
In the distance, a certain United Provinces federal airship heard everything. It was large, but not to the extent of the Robinson. A federal agent stood in the comms room, monitoring everything with a device that tapped into the Aether used for non-wired phone calls, intercepting all the plans the assassins and Barabar had discussed.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Agents Franco and Johnson!” the agent called out. “You need to hear this!”
Franco and Johnson hurried over, and the fed replayed the conversation for his superiors.
“So, they’re gonna try and assassinate the prince tomorrow,” said Franco.
“What should we do? We can’t go back to the Provinces without Shaska,” said Johnson. “But at the same time, we can’t just let them assassinate someone either.”
“Our top priority is Shaska,” said Franco. “She’s public enemy number one, and stopping a war is outside of our jurisdiction; that’s something for the Global Federation to worry about, not mere federal agents like us.”
“Do you really think Worldwide Smoke is going to the capital, too?” Johnson asked. “If I were in their shoes, I’d stay far away from Panipuri.”
“If I had to guess, most likely. I’d bet my badge on it,” Franco responded. “If Prince Samudra is with them, that means they probably want to see the future king for refuge. And to stop the war that’s brewing, as well.”
“Then we need to get there as fast as we can! We need to find out where the rebel leader is hiding and flush him out, because he’s trying to destroy the Provinces and the Global Federation with that Balthasar von Ragnar character!”
“Who is this ‘Balthasar von Ragnar’ anyway?” Franco wondered.
“I’m not sure… I never heard the name, but based on the way they were talking, he’s kind of a big deal,” said Johnson. “I’ll call Abelard and see if he knows.”
Johnson headed off to the comms room, while Franco ordered his agents to keep sailing for Orientalis. Johnson explained the situation to Abelard.
“B-Balthasar von Ragnar…?” Abelard stammered out.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Johnson replied.
“You two idiots need to stay away from that country, then! That man is dangerous!”
“Huh…? But… why have we never heard of him if he’s that dangerous?”
“For twenty three years, Balthasar von Ragnar seemingly disappeared off the face of the world, his crimes so heinous that nobody, prior to the Great War and now Shaska’s massacre, could even fathom them. Some relegated his existence to mere myth after nobody saw him again.”
“But… what did he do…?”
“It happened in the Kingdom of Dammerung in the Occidentalis continent many years before the Great War, and likely contributed to the conditions of the war. According to the newspapers of the time, a noble family of the kingdom was murdered. His family. And he was the prime suspect, leaving only his young sister alive. During his trial, he was placed in nixanium handcuffs, but he was so inhumanly strong that he broke out of them in the courtroom. He grabbed his younger sister and fled the country, never to be seen again.
“The Kingdom of Dammerung searched high and low for him, but neither hide nor hair of he or his sister were ever found in the country for over a decade. When the Great War started, the search was called off to focus on the war effort. As well you know, Dammerung was a site of many battles of the conflict. But now, he’s back, the monster of a man who has no qualms about killing anyone in his way. And if what you say is true, he has his eyes set on world conquest.”
Johnson stood there, unsure of what to do now. One of the worst criminals that the continent of Occidentalis had seen was now making an appearance in Orientalis. And Johnson was on a crash course.
“Agent Johnson, are you there?”
Johnson said nothing.
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Worldwide Smoke gathered together under a tent made of Lulupo’s hair right next to the banks of the Nadee. There was a gap in the middle so the smoke of their fire could escape.
“So, we’re spending the night on the cold, hard ground?” Schwarz complained. “I’m still not sure why we couldn’t just commandeer the village there. Wouldn’t make us any less wanted.”
“I will not threaten my own citizens!” Samudra declared.
“Yet, you’ll have us fight them in battle?” Schwarz asked, helping himself to one of Andy’s snacks.
“The villagers of Gaanv were simply protecting their home,” said Samudra. “I choose to respect that. Even if we were trying to help them. However… when they are attacking Shahar and attempting to assassinate my brother, the situation is different.”
“I guess that makes sense,” replied Schwarz, lying down.
Andy stood up. “Man, I gotta go. Hey, Lulupo, you got a bathroom in here?”
“Just go in the river,” Schwarz said nonchalantly.
“Please do not do that!” Samudra corrected. “The Nadee is a holy river! It is said our gods emerged from that river millennia ago and shaped the world around it!”
Roxanne rolled her eyes and thought “pagans,” as she sipped from her hip flask.
“Guess I’ll go find a tree then,” Andy replied with a shrug.
“Try not to get eaten by monsters, honey!” Roxanne exclaimed.
“Not to worry! I’m packing heat!” Andy said, twirling his gun again. Again, it went off, this time almost striking Schwarz in his face.
“Be careful!” Schwarz and Ren shouted in unison. Schwarz was mad he almost got shot in his beautiful face. Ren was mad at the lack of trigger discipline… and also that Schwarz’s beautiful face almost got shot.
“Alright, everyone, get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” said Shaska as she laid down and snuffed her cigar for the night.
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The party awoke shortly after daybreak. Lulupo retracted his hair, stood up, and stretched with a groan. “Wake up, everyone!” he called. “Time for our march to Shahar!”
“Ugh…” Andy sat up and rubbed his sore back. “Can’t we at least have breakfast first?”
“I feel fighting in a war while we are hungry is a bad idea,” said Zinnia, stretching. Meilong hissed in approval.
“On it,” said Shaska, not even bothering to light up a cigar. She dove into the river with a loud splash.
“Lady Shaska!” Prince Samudra shouted.
Shaska almost immediately came back out, carrying a green, white, and orange fish twice as big as she was. “Mind roasting this sucker up, steak guy?”
Andy’s mouth watered. “Absolutely!”
“You will do no such thing!” Samudra shouted angrily. He grabbed the fish and threw it back into the river, then turned to Shaska. “What part of ‘the Nadee is a holy river’ did you not understand?”
Shaska, unfazed, stuck her pinky in her ear, twisting it as if she hadn’t heard a word. “Serenicus, damn, prince, relax. If I’d known you were running a museum for fish, I would’ve bought a ticket.”
“That was a sacred Jeezgan fish! We do not eat those! There are plenty of other fish we can eat, just not those!”
“First cattle, now giant fish. What do you longlegs eat?” Shaska asked as she opened her cigar box.
“Lady Shaska, while I appreciate the help you are going to provide in the upcoming battle, you have done nothing but disrespect Panipuri since you have arrived here! Please, Lady Shaska, behave yourself. If you want to meet my brother like you say, you must abide by our customs!”
“I mean, sorry, I guess, but you didn’t tell me about any of this shit before we got here,” Shaska responded dryly.
“You will refrain from referring to my culture in such a manner!” Samudra scolded, his nostrils flaring.
Shaska lit up her cigar. “So, now you’re gonna police how I talk? Want me to peel you a grape too, Your Highness?” She blew smoke and continued with “listen, prince, I don’t have to do this. I’m only here because you said you could help me.”
“Oh, you do have to help me. If you do not, I’ll turn you in! The Losan feds wouldn’t dare arrest a prince!”
Lightning sparked between their eyes.
“Please don’t fight,” Carne peeped as he scratched his bug bites.
“Then why the hell did they give you a bounty too, my liege?”
Shaska shook her head, then looked up at the prince. “Look, prince, I think we’re stuck together at this point. I think it’s best we just go our separate ways after we’re done saving the kingdom.”
As devilishly handsome as he was, they were worlds apart. She might’ve been rich now, but she’d never forget the streets that raised her. And somehow, the thought of ever truly connecting with someone like Samudra left a bad taste in her mouth. They were stuck together for now, but after this, she knew where she belonged—and it wasn’t in his ivory tower.
“Hmm… based on the position of the sun, it seems to be around 7:30 a.m.,” said Zinnia as she looked to the sky.
“Then we got a few hours to get there before he gets crowned?” Shaska asked with a puff of smoke. “Let’s go, men, women, bald guy. We’ve got a kingdom to save.”
Just then, five massive birds soared overhead toward Shahar.
“What were those?!” Ren shouted.
“Nothing to worry about, Lady Ren. Just rukh birds, a common method of conveyance in the Panipuri Kingdom,” Samudra responded.
“We slept on the cold, hard ground like peasants instead of taking one of those birds because?” Schwarz fumed, pointing at the giant rukh birds flying overhead.
Samudra smiled sheepishly. “Because I thought it would be a nice bonding experience.”
Schwarz's eyebrow twitched as he lunged for Samudra’s neck, his hands grasping at the air, but he was too short to even reach the prince’s shoulders. “You—! I swear—!”
Samudra kept smiling. “Besides, it builds character, don’t you think?”
“I’ll build your grave,” Schwarz growled through clenched teeth, still clawing the air.
The prince just laughed. “In truth, only the military has access to the birds right now. If someone unaffiliated with the royal family has them, then that’s… well… it’s a dangerous omen, indeed…” His tone became more somber as he spoke, realizing the implications of what he was saying.
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As the sun crested over the mountains, its first rays glinted off the still waters of Lake Jheel. The entire scene seemed suspended in time, the silence only broken by the faint rustling of leaves in the cool morning breeze.
Then, out of the calm waters, a figure emerged. A woman rose, her soaked black suit clinging to her tall, lean frame, as if she had simply walked out from the lake’s depths. Her light blue skin shimmered slightly in the dawn light, her gills flexing as she took her first breath of the morning air. Her purple bobbed hair hung in dripping tendrils around her sharp, angular face, and her long fish tail dragged through the water behind her with a light splash..
She pulled a waterproof cigarette case from her jacket and, with smooth precision, lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating her cold, unreadable expression.
A longleg fisherman, just starting his early morning preparations, stopped in his tracks at the sight of her. “Excuse me… ma’am?” he stammered, squinting as if unsure of what he was seeing.
The merwoman turned her head slowly toward him, exhaling a thin stream of smoke from her cigarette.
“Are you… a merwoman?” he asked, an ugly smirk curling across his lips. “You fish freaks look like you’d make good eating!”
The merwoman’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her voice as sharp as broken glass. “You really wanna find out?”
She didn’t wait for his response. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek badge, flicking it open with one hand. “The name’s Tributelle,” she said coolly, letting the name hang in the air like a threat. “Global Federation. GRS collections. Your crown prince has some debts to pay.”
The fisherman blinked, his smirk vanishing. He took a hesitant step back, dumbfounded by the sudden shift in the air.
Tributelle took another long drag from her cigarette, her cold eyes never leaving the fisherman’s. She exhaled, letting the smoke swirl up into the cool air, then flicked the cigarette into the lake with a casual disdain that sent ripples through the water.
“Which way to the palace?” she asked, her tone never warming, her sharp gaze still piercing the fisherman. Her words weren’t a request—they were a command.