The sweltering late spring sun beat down relentlessly as Worldwide Smoke trudged over the uneven terrain of the Talahatee Hills. The air was thick with humidity, making every breath feel like inhaling soup. Sweat poured off their bodies in steady streams (except Shaska), soaking their clothes, while insects buzzed incessantly, nipping at exposed skin.The uneven ground was incredibly hard to walk on, and pests were common.
“Hey, Lulupo, can you carry me?” Carne whined.
“I just used my hair for an entire night, darling. Potentia use takes its toll,” he responded, breathing in an odd rhythm. “I need time to recover and draw in more Aether.”
“But I’m sooooooo itchy…” Carne said, scratching at his bug bites. As a doctor, he knew full well scratching at them made them worse, but Machchar mosquitoes are a particularly nasty species, so he really couldn’t help it.
“Quit yer belly achin’ doc! We still got quaht a ways t’go!” Ren said, to which Carne moaned in response.
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The assassins of Balthasar von Ragnar’s revolutionary force, Minus World, landed in Shahar at the airport. In addition to the normal airships, there were giant, dark green birds with glass cabins on their backs taking off and landing. The rukh bird is native to southern Orientalis, tamed many centuries ago to fly around the area. They refuse to leave the skies above Panipuri, however, as the quality of air is different in the rest of the world and rukh birds require a very delicate balance of chemicals in the air.
The assassins all wore hooded cloaks, making it difficult to tell who they actually were.
“Excuse me, who are you people, exactly?” asked the attendant at the airport. “You’re not longlegs. You don’t seem to be from around here.” He noticed the weapons they were carrying. “And you’re armed, too. How did you even make it through security at Nagar.”
Meanwhile, the attendant’s counterpart in Nagar was counting the huge stack of cash the assassins had given him to look the other way.
Corcoran stepped forward, his voice smooth but with a dangerous edge. “We’re mercenaries, here to support the prince.”
The attendant raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Mercenaries, huh? Got any proof of that? You realize the prince is a prime target for assassination right now. Can’t let just anyone stroll through.” The attendant shook his head and said “I’m not sure I can let you guys pass. May even need to call the police…”
“Surely this is enough identification…” said Ubitsa, producing a wad of bills totaling a hundred thousand losas.
“Yup. I’m definitely calling the police now,” the attendant replied. “I don’t do bribes.”
In response, “Gaborielle” held up his hand and snapped his fingers. A wooden stage extended from beneath his feet in a twenty foot circle. The attendant had a confused look on his face, but quickly pulled out his radio.
“Gaborielle” snapped again. Suddenly, even though it was a bright, sunny, sweltering day, the area around the stage became completely shrouded in darkness. “Lights out.”
The attendant tried changing the frequency of his radio, but he couldn’t see. “W-what’s going on?”
Under the shroud of darkness, the assassins escaped the airport and into the city. After about twenty seconds, the lights rose on the stage again, and the stage dissipated. The attendant was dumbfounded at what had just happened.
He immediately radioed the police. “Police? This is Chidiya at the airport! Be on the lookout for five potential assassins!” He went on to describe their appearances and their weapons. “...and at least one of them has a potentia ability!”
The darkness lifted, and the group quickly slipped into an alley, pulling their hoods down to regroup. Cazimir’s eyes burned with impatience as he glared at “Gaborielle”. “We should’ve just slit his throat and been done with it.”
“And left a trail of bodies behind us?” “Gaborielle” shot back. “Subtlety is key if we don’t want the entire city breathing down our necks.”
“We should make haste for the palace. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re moving the prince to a hidden location right now,” said Ubitsa.
Kandar leaned against the alley wall, puffing lazily on his pipe, the scent of Happy Happy Grass hanging thick in the air. “Why are we even here, man? I don’t even remember half of what’s going on…” he said with a slow, doped-up grin.
Corcoran plucked a few notes on his bass after laying it down. “That’s because you spend all your time and money with Dr. Feelgood and his Happy Happy Grass. That stuff’s destroying your mind.”
“I can quit whenever I want!” Kandar exclaimed. “I just don’t want to…”
“Ugh, at least keep it away from us, you degenerate,” growled Ubitsa.
The group pulled their hoods back up, departed the alley, and headed toward the palace, which was easy to spot due to its location on a large hill near the center of the city.
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At the grand western gate of Shahar, two guards stationed about ten feet apart saw Tributelle. The entrance itself was relatively small, the wall made of stone with the gate proper being made of thick iron. She was still walking with her hands in her pockets, occasionally taking one out to puff on her cigarette.
“Who goes there?!” one of the guards shouted at her.
Tributelle moved with a steady, unhurried pace, her hands casually in her pockets as though she hadn’t a care in the world. The guards bristled, spears crossing as they blocked her path, but she didn’t flinch.
Tributelle stopped just short of their crossed spears, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the humid air. She didn’t look at them—her eyes remained fixed ahead, on the city that stretched beyond. Finally, she pulled out her badge with a languid motion. “Name’s Tributelle, Global Revenue Service,” she said coolly. “I’m here to see the crown prince.”
“You expect us to believe that?” the second guard sneered. “We’re not falling for some scalie freak’s lies.”
“I’m not lying,” Tributelle calmly replied, her tone so calm it bordered on boredom. “Your kingdom and by extension the prince owe the Federation a lot of money. I’m here to collect.”
She pulled her hands out of her pockets and adjusted her tie. “Let’s not make this ugly.”
“Why should we believe you? A Federation agent should have come in on a rukh bird!” said the second guard.
“The name’s Tributelle. I come representing the Global Federation’s Global Revenue Service,” she said to the Nagar attendant, flashing her badge.
“Go away, fish freak!” the attendant said. “The Federation hasn’t got any business here right now!”
Tributelle said nothing in response, and instead just jumped into the river and started swimming to Shahar.
“This is your final warning,” Tributelle said, voice flat. “I want to have a peaceful chat with your prince.”
“And we said go away!” the guards shouted in unison, thrusting their spears at her.
Tributelle didn’t flinch. Her body became incredibly stiff with the power of Aether, and when the spears made contact with her, their points snapped off, much to the shock of the guards.
“I guess they don’t teach you Aether skills at the academy,” Tributelle commented as she relaxed. “You wanna keep going, fellas?”
The first guard put on a set of brass knuckles and started punching at her. Tributelle still didn’t flinch, and simply began weaving past his attacks effortlessly. She continued weaving past the other guard’s attacks when he started kicking with his long legs, as if she knew where every attack was coming from before it even happened.
“Why can’t we hit you?!” shouted the first guard. “You’re just a woman!”
“Hmph. Then you’re weaker than a little girl like me,” Tributelle replied bluntly, continuing to effortlessly dodge. “I’m an augere. In exchange for not being blessed with a potentia ability, our physicality is even further enhanced by the power of Aether.”
She pushed all her Aether into her legs, then used that power to enhance her speed to the point she seemingly teleported behind the guards. She then raised her index fingers and concentrated her Aether in each one. Her fingers jabbed forward with the precision of a bullet, striking each guard in the spine. The sound was sharp, like bone splintering. Both men crumpled to the ground, their legs useless.
Tributelle adjusted her tie again and took another drag from her cigarette. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She looked up at the wall and sighed. She jumped, then hopped off the air with Aether until she reached the top of the wall. She surveyed the city, seeing the palace in the distance. It was an amazingly huge building, with many dome shaped roofs and surrounded by four very tall watch towers.
“Let’s mosey,” she said, teleporting down into the city with the same Aether Flash technique she used to get behind the guards.
After the shock of being paralyzed passed, the second guard fumbled for his radio with trembling fingers, the shock of the encounter not yet fully sinking in. “T-there’s another assassin… in the city!” he rasped, voice shaky. “She claims to be from the Federation… but she’s… she’s one of those damn fish freaks!”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
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Worldwide Smoke made it to the southern gates of Shahar around noon. They were constructed similar to the western gates. Two hours remained until Ta’Gup XIV’s coronation ceremony. Samudra led the way as the guards stood still. “Good morrow! It is I, Prince Samudra, brother of the crown prince! I have returned for his coronation!”
The guards sighed. “We know who you are, Your Highness,” said the first guard “And it pains me to say this, but we have been instructed not to let you in.”
Samudra felt his heart sink. “Wh-what do you mean?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“You and your new friends are responsible for the deaths of an entire city,” said the second guard. “Your brother must not have told you this, but you are formally being stripped of your royal title as a result of your crimes.”
"YOU UTTER FOOL!" Ta’Gup’s voice echoed over the phone, trembling with rage. “Your years of reckless debauchery have finally caught up to you. You’ve destroyed everything!”
“Brother, please, I—”
“Don’t ‘brother’ me!” Ta’Gup’s voice dripped with venom. “I refuse to be associated with a mass murderer! I warned you, but you never listened. Do NOT return to Shahar.”
Samudra said nothing and hung his head.
“Honestly, my lord, I’m not sure what you expected,” said the first guard. “You murdered an entire city after abandoning your wife and your royal duties to go party and sleep with random women all around the world.”
“W-wife…?” Shaska stammered, dumbfounded. “You left your wife… to party and sleep with random broads?” Shaska's voice was low, like a storm brewing. She took a slow, deliberate drag from her cigar, the embers glowing in the stillness. Something inside her snapped. She wasn’t particularly invested in the prince after their earlier spat, but this… this betrayal struck her deeper than she expected. She had felt deceived, like the prince had played a game with them all.
Samudra blinked, confused by her rising anger. “I—well, yes, but—”
Shaska’s blood boiled. Her cigar crunched between her teeth, smoke curling angrily from her nostrils. “You never mentioned having a wife, prince…” she hissed, stepping forward, her frame casting a long shadow over him.
“I didn’t think it was relev—”
Shaska moved with terrifying speed, grabbing both guards by their heads and slamming them together with monstrous strength. Their helmets clanged with a sickening thud as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
“Let’s go, prince.” Shaska’s voice dripped with venom as she manually pried the gates open, muscles bulging and tearing through the fabric of her clothes. “We’re gonna talk to your brother about this class system of yours. And then, I never wanna see you again.” She stormed into the city without looking back, fury seething in every step. “You’re just like him…” she muttered under her breath, barely audible, her eyes narrowing into slits.
Worldwide Smoke stood in stunned silence.
“What was that about?” Andy asked.
“Th’prince was cheatin’ on his wahf…?” Ren asked.
Lulupo cast a cold glance at Samudra. “Prince, you should’ve told us. You’re losing allies faster than you’re making them.”
Samudra stood frozen, his face flushed with shame. “I—I didn’t think it mattered anymore…”
“Clearly, it does,” Lulupo said dryly, folding his arms with an unimpressed expression on his face.
“We should follow her,” Samudra murmured, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He started toward the city, but the weight of the judgment from Worldwide Smoke hung heavy on him.
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Unlike the rest of the Panipuri Kingdom, which was under the specter of civil war, Shahar showed what the country was normally like; it was as if the war didn’t exist. The longlegs were singing and dancing, each to their own song as they went about their days. Even the Unclean of the city were singing as they shoveled cattle droppings out of the streets. The city was massive, the buildings slowly being rebuilt and foundations for skyscrapers being a common sight. Cars were slowly becoming more common amid the people riding elephants and horses.
“Oh my! What a delightful city!” Lulupo cheered as he attempted to join in the singing, as if the previous incident of learning of Samudra’s infidelity hadn’t happened. He danced and tried to sing along with the townsfolk until he stepped in a pile of cow dung.
“Oh, by the gods! I am so sorry!” said a young Unclean girl dressed in what seemed to be just a canvas bag, rushing over to clean up the pile of manure, as well as Lulupo’s high heel shoe.
“Darling, please, it’s my fault for not noticing! You need not trouble yourself!”
"Sir Charles! You should let her clean your shoe! She is Unclean, that’s what she was born f–" Samudra began.
"Enough." Lulupo’s voice sliced through the air, his usual playfulness evaporated again. He whirled on Samudra, eyes flashing. "I was already reluctant to take orders from you after learning about your class system. But after hearing about your wife? Your poor, abandoned wife?" He let the accusation hang heavy in the air, watching Samudra flinch like a wounded animal.
Lulupo turned back to the girl, voice softening. "You’re not Unclean to me, darling. What’s your name?"
“My name…?” The girl blushed. “My name is Rima… sir? Or…?”
Rima looked at Lulupo’s masculine and feminine features and became confused.
“Sir, ma’am, it doesn’t matter to me,” said Lulupo. “A beautiful young girl like you shouldn’t be shoveling animal droppings! Why, with some sprucing up, you could be the wife of a nobleman!”
Rima couldn’t help but blush even harder. “I… no one’s ever…”
“Sir Lulupo!” Samudra shouted.
“Prince,” Lulupo replied, voice dripping with venom. “I’m with Miss Shaska. You’re still trying to preserve this cruel system where this girl has to shovel crap for the rest of her life. It’s not right.”
Lulupo grabbed Rima’s hand. Despite only being around 15, she was only a foot shorter than him due to her longleg genes.
“I’m changing the system! Starting with Rima here! Come on, let’s get you some real clothes!”
“Oh my… but, but…” Rima stammered.
“But nothing, darling! I may not be from around here, but I know when something needs changing! Let’s go!”
As he walked off with Rima to find a boutique, he turned back to Samudra and the rest of Worldwide Smoke. “Darlings! And prince… I’ll meet you at the palace later! I want to show this girl she can be more than just a street sweeper!”
“But Sir Charles! The Unclean enjoy the manu–”
“Prince. One more outburst like that and I will fight you in front of your citizens,” Lulupo growled.
As soon as Lulupo was out of earshot, Samudra muttered, “Sir Charles, you are too idealistic…”
Zinnia watched Lulupo walk away with Rima, her eyes soft but her voice firm. "Mister Charles is right, Prince. As a former slave myself, I cannot support this. Seeing how eager your citizens are to preserve a system that forces them into servitude…" She trailed off, shaking her head. Meilong hissed quietly in agreement, sensing Zinnia's frustration.
“Lady Zinnia! They kill people!”
She bowed slightly, her usual calm grace returning. "I will see your brother. Perhaps there is a way to find peace. But not at the expense of these people." Without another word, she turned and walked toward the palace, her back straight, her pace unhurried.
One by one, the crew separated from Samudra, disgusted not just by his adulterous ways, but also by the rigid class system. Samudra was left standing there, alone as Andy and Roxanne went off looking for food, and Carne tagged along with them, hoping to find a local doctor to get his bug bites treated.
“I wanna try some authentic Panipuri recipes!” exclaimed Andy, mouth watering.
“Remember, they don’t eat beef, honey,” Roxanne replied.
Andy’s face fell. “Right…”
Ren left to find a good sniper perch when the fighting eventually broke out. Schwarz, on the other hand, went off on his own, trying to find where Shaska went. Samudra attempted to follow him. "Schwarz, please–" Samudra started, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Samudra." Schwarz’s voice was sharp, cutting him off. He didn’t even bother with titles anymore. "You have to know how bad this looks for you, right?"
Samudra blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "I… I know but—"
"No. You don’t get it." Schwarz’s tone was icy. "You’re a prince, you abandoned your wife, you let a system like this flourish under your rule, and now you’re expecting us to fix it? You don’t even have the guts to stand up for yourself."
Samudra hung his head lower with each word.
"We’ll finish this job, but don’t mistake that for loyalty," Schwarz continued, turning his back on him. "We’re here for the money, and maybe to stop this war from killing more innocent people. But don’t think for a second that we’re with you anymore."
By the time Schwarz disappeared into the crowd, Samudra stood completely alone, his head hung low. The once-bustling streets of Shahar seemed quieter now, the weight of the city pressing in on him.
"What have I done…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
In the distance, the palace loomed, a reminder of his royal blood, of the responsibilities he had shirked. But now, even the thought of seeing his brother filled him with dread. He couldn’t face Ta’Gup, not like this.
But he had no choice. The future of his kingdom—and his own survival—depended on it.
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The assassins from Minus World walked through the crowded city, still in their hooded cloaks, making an effort to not step in any cow dung. A police officer saw them walk past and relayed the information to his fellow officers via hand radio. “This is Officer Kaanoon on Sadak Street, requesting immediate backup. I have sight of the fi–”
The assassins heard this. Kandar, being a bit out of his mind on the Happy Happy Grass he was smoking, drew his rifle and shot the officer, killing him. The crack of the rifle echoed down Sadak Street, piercing the mid-day bustle. Officer Kaanoon’s body hit the ground with a sickening thud, his blood pooling into the dusty street.
"Kaanoon! Kaanoon, respond!" his radio crackled, but no answer came.
Kandar, still puffing on his Happy Happy Grass, giggled like a schoolboy. "Oops... guess I made a little mess."
Cazimir swiveled around to face him, his face twisted in rage. "You idiot! We’re supposed to be subtle, not start a damn riot!"
The crowd, sensing danger, erupted into screams as people began scattering in every direction.
Ubitsa took a single glance at the unfolding chaos and made the decision. "We’re splitting up. Meet at the palace." He vanished into the crowd without waiting for the others.
Cazimir gave Kandar one last look of disgust before following Ubitsa, while Kandar’s laughter continued to echo as he bolted into the nearest hotel.
"Let’s see what kind of fun I can have in here…" Kandar’s grin widened as he shot out the hotel’s phone, his voice dripping with menace. "Hostages. That’ll do."
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Word of the gunshot spread like wildfire through Shahar. What had been a peaceful, festive atmosphere shifted into one of unease. The citizens glanced nervously at one another, whispering of assassins and unrest. For most, the specter of civil war felt far removed—until now. Ta’Gup XIV was confident the rebellion would be put down without a single Shahar civilian’s life lost; only time would tell if he was right to make that bet.
Tributelle, unconcerned with the commotion, sat down at a local cafe and ordered herself a coffee. She pulled out a pocket watch to check the time.
“Hmm. It seems the coronation will be starting in an hour or so. Perfect. I have time to enjoy a local brew. I hope they don’t move the soon-to-be king to a secret location just because the Federation came for its tax.”
The coffee shop happened to be on the street leading up to the palace, a wide road with many businesses and shops and, naturally, cattle roaming around with cars trying not to hit them. Shaska, still in a huff, came storming down. She was followed not too far behind by Samudra, Schwarz, and Zinnia.
Tributelle looked up from her coffee and saw Shaska.
“Interesting…” she muttered.
Their paths crossed without intention. Shaska’s gaze swept over the bustling café and froze. There, seated with a deliberate stillness, was a figure all too familiar.
Tributelle took a sip from her cup, locking eyes with Shaska. Neither spoke. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, the weight of history pressing in on both of them.
Schwarz and Zinnia caught up, confused by the sudden stillness in Shaska. "Who the heck is that?" Schwarz muttered, sensing something wasn’t right.
Slowly, Tributelle rose from her seat, setting the cup down with care. She tugged at her gloves, straightening them, then finally broke the silence.
"Hello, mother."