> Now here is the truth of the matter. All labor of a laborer does not return to the laborer! In the Time of Kings, the surplus value that arises from extended use of a laborer's creation goes to the rulers, the aristocrats. In the Time of Business, it goes to the merchants, the bourgeoisie. And if it never surges past the bourgeoisie, then we enter into the Pyrite Age of Humanity, where the most major virtue is Greed and the greatest Sin is Existence and Love.

>

> From Treatise On Modern Modes by Kafeng Masangwa

Akazha had put on a shawl, a bamboo conical hat, a sarong, and then a second smaller cloth called a tapis over the sarong. She wanted to fit in, but she didn't want to seem like a random outsider. If she could convey that she was someone from the land of fords, then that no doubt would lead to a better reaction.

The Port Chief would probably lead her to some good leads, so she decided to go there.

The port was bustling at this point in the morning. The sky was giving way to a gray-blue hue. Ships were loading and readying for voyages across the Windy Seas, traveling to the nine corners of the Utter Islands.

When she arrived, the Port Chief was sitting down for morning coffee, spiced generously with cinnamon and nutmeg. He sat down on the premier kopitiam of the docks.

Akazha closed in and asked: "Port chief?"

The Port Chief was sipping on coffee and reading some something on a scroll when Akazha asked. He looked up from what he was reading and said: "Ah, yes?" He took one look at Akazha and immediately folded the scroll. "How may I be of help?" He looked to be a middle-aged man, wearing a headwrap and a sarong around his waist, and then a bahag underneath that. A sword was tied to his waist by way of a bright yellow sash. Tattoos covered his body, but not his face and not his hands.

Akazha narrowed her eyes. Someone from the Charnel Isles...? Or the Heavenshards...?

"I'm looking for work." Said Akazha. She uttered a mantra and summoned her kalis from a stray ray of lantern light. "I am a woman of many talents."

"Whoa!" exclaimed the Port Chief. The gang that hung around him tensed. Some of them rose to his feet and even fewer unsheathed their blades halfway. The Port Chief raised his hand immediately, stopping them from unleashing into an all out brawl. Akazha kept her eyes trained on the Port Chief.

"Before we go there, why do we skip the pleasantries? I am the Port Chief of Imos Town, Si Ragam. Pleasure to be of your service, beautiful maiden." He reached out to take her hand, but she did not move it from her kalis, which was in a chambered position.

Akazha scowled. But she had gone through situations such as this. It was unavoidable, in the world they lived in. "Akazha. Witch. Take me seriously or I will lay a curse upon you so adhesive it will last through ten generations."

"Oho! The tigress has fangs and a bark!" Si Ragam looked to his posse, who all hollered with him. "What line of work are you thinking of doing? Imos Town is not exactly Selorong, you know. We're not exactly the town to give jobs out willy-nilly! Ha, unless..." He leered at Akazha, looking at her from head to toe. He pressed his lips together. "You seem like you would make quite a lot of joss working for us. How long do you have and how much do you need?"

Akazha's scowl deepened. "I only have three days, and I have to pay off a thousands worth of joss. It is not immediate. I will take whatever job I can get so we can accrue joss before leaving."

"Three days? Oh, you're boarding the yakkamakina to sail off to Blacklight, eh?"

Akazha nodded.

"All right. Well, actually." He leaned forward. "I can give you a thousand joss if you wish. If you're free for all three nights."

"Does it involve my skillset?" She had to take a step back. The overpowering feeling emanating from Si Ragam and his posse made her feel naked, as all of them leered at her. She was used to this. She could kill all of them at any point if she wanted to. She just didn't want to go to the town prison and miss the yakkamakina to Blacklight. Is this worth it? I can just make the joss elsewhere. Maybe sell some potions...

"Well that depends." They laughed. Akazha's grip on her kalis turned white-hot. "Show me what you can do on your--" Akazha's foot flung out, faster than thought. Struck Si Ragam square in the jaw, sent him stumbling backwards.

It felt like kicking a boulder. Inner Power? A Cultivator too?

The kick had Si Ragam bending backwards. When he stopped stumbling, he held up the position for a few more moments looking up at the sky.

"Port Chief! Are you all right?" asked one of his boys.

The port chief put both his hands on his waist, still looking up at the sky. "The weather today is... clear. And the winds are fresh and cool. What a beautiful day to teach a woman her place." He finally bent back forward and unsheathed his blade, revealing a parang, gleaming and oiled. "Fuck her up!"

Akazha rolled her eyes and sighed. And again I am the wrong one here... Si Ragam's boys all unsheathed their blades and descended upon her. She fought back, her kalis gleaming and flashing, moving in wide circles and quick straight-line movements.

Parry, parry, counterstrike, strike, strike, strike.

The men were descending from all directions. Akazha fended them off, though she was forced into retreat. Her blade flickered silver, meeting their inferior martial art and destroying their postures in quick movements. She did her best not to deal any lethal injuries: using the flat of her blade she slapped the majority of them, or locked and grappled them and sent them hurtling to the ground, or used the dragon pommel of her kalises to disarm them and break fingers.

When the majority of them were on the ground, Si Ragam roared and flew forward, blade burning with anger. His killing intent emanated toward Akazha, but it was weak. He was not aiming to kill Akazha, simply maim her and bring her to heel.

Akazha rolled her eyes again. She stepped back. Chambered her blade, putting it on her shoulder, other hand readied, engaging Whorl Guard.

"You fucking bitch!" His blade descended. Akazha unleashed her chambered blade and the man's wild strikes met hers. "You come to my port and ask for a job, and then kick me? Who do you think you are?!" His attack pattern was wild, blade blitzing out in all nine directions. What violence system is this?

She let her senses and muscle reflex take over. She could not rely on her rationality here, not on her judgment. She had to rely on what her body knew. Her blade flashed in time with his irregular rhythm. Steel clashed multiple times. Sparks flew. But neither of them gave ground, moved position, nor lost posture. They traded blows like equals.

"Come on! If you were arrogant enough to kick me like that, then you should be strong enough to kill me!"

"I will not. Stand down now. I will not--"

"Rah! THOUSAND SNAKING STRIKES!" Si Ragam unleashed a single strike that exploded like firework into a thousand flickering slashes. Akazha had to leap backwards, flying upon her Light Body Technique, to avoid the strikes. Even as she flew across the air, she had to keep her parrying up.

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The momentum of the fight was out of her hands. She had to vault over a woman's fish booth to avoid a strike. She slid underneath pair of dockhands carrying a large lacquered hardwood chest. She flipped over a group of kids playing with a wooden top. All to avoid Si Ragam's onslaught.

When Si Ragam's Thousand Snaking Strikes slowed down, Akazha changed her live hand into the Void Mudra and summoned her second kalis from a stray strand of sunlight. She sent it through the hole in Si Ragam's offense-defense.

Akazha's kalis moved quicker than he could react. Though he managed to ultimately parry it out of the way, the kalis managed to cut his right shoulder.

"Witch! I will have you beheaded and slain! High Chief Trasan has been notified!"

"You will have to apprehend my corpse!"

They fought throught he market place in a furious duel. Leaping over booths and tables, dancing in between butchers, using pieces of fish to distract each other in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand. Akazha managed to knock Si Ragam off balance and her kalis flashed, taking the opportunity to end the fight. Si Ragam flipped and took a fallen over circular basket, and used that to catch Akazha's kalis, embedding it deep into the rattan's weavings. Then, he twisted it away, wrenching Akazha's kalis along with it.

Akazha did not fall for it, however. The second her kalis was wrenched away she flew back, engaging her Light Body. She avoided the lancing parang, and then continued to exchange blows with Si Ragam atop a long row of rectangular chests.

"I will end this now. Forgive me," stated Akazha.

"Ha!" said Si Ragam, more infuriated than humored. "I'll tell you right now. If you can actually defeat me, then I won't even have High Chief Trasan know about this. And I'll give you a job. If you can defeat me right now."

Akazha managed a smile. Then, with a tone used to speak to a sniveling dog: "That's what I wanted to hear. That was not so difficult, now was it?"

"Shut up, woman!"

Akazha, now with only her fists, quickened the pace. A six-punch combo was effectively parried away by Si Ragam's flashing parang. The sixth punch Si Ragam converted into an effective counterstrike. Blood cut Akazha's now exposed arms. She did not betray any sign of injury.

Si Ragam's counterstrike continued, a blistering quick eight-hit combo from all sides, like the Eight-Headed Snake of Legend. Akazha parried the first two, leaned back to dodge the third one, blocked the fourth by kicking up a stray gold plate, parried the fifth and sixth by quick summoning two kalises with a lightning-fast mudra, avoided the seventh by leaping down from the chests and crates and onto a wooden pier. The eighth and final strike, a dangerous overhead finishing strike, Si Ragam launched from atop the row of crates, diving down towards Akazha.

Akazha leaned into it. She moved into the arc of the blade, caught the movement, and then flung him to the far side of the pier.

Si Ragam tumbled, rolled, and popped back up to his feet. He had one hand up in a two-fingered pointed mudra. He turned and threw his parang.

It flew in an arc like a boomerang.

Akazha flipped over it with her light body technique. Converted it into a corkscrew kick. Slammed against Si Ragam's double arm block.

Si Ragam tried to grab her ankle. Akazha flipped forward to avoid that and sent an axe kick down; Si Ragam dodged by backstepping. The axe kick sent both of them into neutral, but they did not stay that way for long.

Immediately, when they both regained their footing, they lunged forward and launched strikes, which clashed: forearm against forearm. Another fierce exchange of blows: for every two parries one strike hit home.

Unfortunately, at this point, Akazha knew that he was of a much lower Cultivation level than her. She hardly used her more reliable techniques! Not like when she sparred with Raxri. It was his parang that was somewhat deadly.

Si Ragam unleashed a deadly five hit combo: a sword slash (which Akazha deflected with her hand) into an elbow (which Akazha redirected with the back of her hand) into a knee (which Akazha took to her belly) into two uppercuts. The first uppercut Akazha dodged by moving diagonally to his right. The second one Akazha cut at with another quick-summoned kalis with her void mudra.

Si Ragam converted the last uppercut into a fierce straight with his other hand. Akazha moved to his outside. She blocked, parried, then converted it into a grab of his sword wrist.

Summoning her Will: Akazha pulled back, crouched, speared her elbow straight into his crotch.

As Si Ragam doubled over, she caught him above her and suplexed him straight into the wooden pier. The impact created a hole in the pier. The water below it rippled furiously.

That was it. Akazha stepped back. A few hits here and there, but nothing major. "There."

Si Ragam did not move.

"What goes on here?"

Akazha spun around. The crowd that watched them now parted, making way for a man clad in a gold tunic and sarong, covered in bands of gold, wearing a tall horned headwrap. The man's moustache and hair were elegantly oiled, and from his waist hung an intricately tasseled keris, tied there by a sash made of Woian fabrics.

On both sides he was flanked by what seemed like guardsmen. One wore a conical hat of pure metal, was taller than the noble, and moved with a kanabo. He only had a sarong on, and his body was covered in protective talisman tattoos. The other one wore a bamboo breastplate and silk batik sarong. Slung across his back was an arquebus with a dragon at the mouth of its barrel.

The majority of people on the docks immediately bowed when he arrived. Akazha raised an eyebrow, wondered if this was the High Chief Trasan that Si Ragam spoke of.

A dockhand walked to his side, folded his hands to his above his head, his mouth, and his heart and bowed. "Minister Tun Moriwasa. Commotion because of a traveler."

"Ah," Prime Minister Tun Moriwasa stroked his graying moustasche. "Code 772. Very well. Have her be escorted into my house."

"At once, sir." A group of men stepped up, looking grim.

Akazha shook her head and waved her hands. "No need. I go willingly. I was never looking for trouble. Forgive me, Minister Tun Moriwasa." Akazha performed the reverences to the aristocrat. "Please, allow me to explain my case in your house."

***

Minister Tun Moriwasa's house was situated deeper into town, by the edge of the forest. It sat atop a small hill, not taller than the Lord's Longhouse, but tall enough. At its side was a garden, complete with a pond and koi fish swimming about. Bamboo shoots surrounded the estate, and taller and larger mahoganies created canopies to shade it from the Sun's rays. Landscaping only the nobility could afford.

Tun Moriwasa's longhouse stood upon thick hardwood pillars, and had multiple annexes that made the house look like a W when viewed from the sky. Other smaller houses were placed on the five directions: north, northeast, southeast, southwest, and northwest. Akazha knew that the southeastern house was a resource stockpile. Rice, weapons, water, the like was stored there. The southwestern house was for visitors. The northwestern house was a pavilion, often used for cultivation of arts such as dancing or fighting. The north house, behind the longhouse, was where the livestock was kept. The northeastern house was where the personal servants slept.

A taste of a true noble's house, at the edge of Pemi. Other nobles from other parts of the archipelago had grander houses still. Akazha has seen them. This one did not impress her.

They led Akazha to the dining area of the longhouse. There, a long rectangular table was placed, embellished with beautiful floral designs on its hardwood. It stood short and close to the floor. On all sides were cotton sitting pillows.

At the head of the table was Prime Minister Tun Moriwasa. His bodyguards stood a good few tails behind him. They made Akazha sit beside Moriwasa.

Tun Moriwasa went through the motions. Pushed forward a betel nut chest, knocked it open. Three quids already prepared. Tun Moriwasa took one and chewed, and then offered it to Akazha. It would be another social faux pas not to accept, and so she did.

Tun Moriwasa watched her as she did. He was still leering, but his eyes lingered longer at her talismans and talismanic yantra tattoos. As she chewed the betel nut and allowed its effects to seep into her brain, Tun Moriwasa said: "So I have been told that you attacked our Port Chief. That is a grave offense, witch."

"Akazha," she interjected. "Witch Akazha."

Tun Moriwasa smiled. It was not a pleasantry smile. It was a humored smile. "Right, yes. Akazha. Unfortunately, I must take steps to discipline you and have you held up against the law."

"Who is the law here?" asked Akazha.

"High Chief Trasan, of course. It is up to him what your punishment will be."

"I did not kill him."

"What?"

Akazha inhaled. "I did not kill Si Ragam your Port Chief. He is simply knocked out, after having been bested by a woman."

"Come now. You know that people of your ilk are not supposed to be roughhousing with dockhands."

"That is what you believe, as a man who benefits from the established system," she said. "I can do whatever I please."

"Of course you can. But, unfortunately, all actions still have their appropriate consequences."

"Does fighting a port chief really equate to true punishment?"

Tun Moriwasa spat out a glob of red. He shrugged. "Perhaps you will be kept in the prisonhouse for a few days. Until someone can pay your ransom fee."

Akazha sighed. "And how many days would you reckon I would have to stay in there?"

"Perhaps five to ten?"

"That cannot be. I must travel to Blacklight Town."

"Well," Tun Moriwasa shrugged. "I suppose that will be up to High Chief Trasan's will, then."

Akazha took care not to lose any more proper decorum. "I was only protecting my dignity and honor."

"As any true-blue wandering hero such as you would," said Tun Moriwasa. "However, once caught, you will have to face your consequences. Wandering heroes and cultivators such as you are increasingly becoming more common."

Akazha looked about the room, and then said: "Why did you take me here?" asked Akazha. "This is not a holding house."

"No. Of course. High Chief Trasan will be accepting audiences in a few dayparts yet. I brought you here because I have a question."

Akazha turned to look at him from the corner of her eye.

He continued, leaning to the side as a teaset was placed before them by a servant girl: "Would you know anything about how the Gozon family in Selorong?"