> In all, there are 12 major royal houses in Shen that have now been completely broken down by the Ultra-Overhaul Efforts. Each of the 12 Royal Houses, corresponding to an animal zodiac, rose to their power by being a descendant of one of the 12 Generals that defeated the Devil King Roghan from assuming highest power in the Shennin Empire. These 12 Royal Houses are Kida, Giro, Tani, Gozon, Wu, Tsin, Zun, Ma, Yat, Ging, Zho, and Dan.

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> From The 52nd Genealogy of Shen in the 11,665th Cycle

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"Has it ever crossed your mind that you might have your Third Eye open?" asked Sintra Kennin, leaning back after being told the ghost story that Raxri had encountered.

Raxri raised an eyebrow. "Third Eye?"

"A term. It means you can sense the beings from beyond. Ghosts and phantasms. Demons. Not all ghosts and gods can be seen with the naked eye, you see. And truly, the majority of us have access to invisibilities and camouflagings that make us unable to be seen by someone that cannot perceive the inner realms." Sintra Kennin sipped on his milktea.

"So someone with their Third Eye... can see ghosts?"

"Well, anyone can see ghosts. Those with their Third Eye can see ghosts and us gods even when we don't want to be seen.When we're invisible. Usually those with their Third Eye open--whether it be from birth, over the course of their life, or through training--become mediums, shamans, oracles, diviners, priests and priestesses, pythonesses and the like. Those that consort with the ancestors and the gods."

Raxri pondered about it for a moment, fingers tapping their chin. "Maybe the Raxri Uttara of the past was someone that had their Third Eye open and was a medium?"

Sintra Kennin nodded. Then he said: "So this ghost... you think it was trying to kill...?"

Raxri shrugged, sipping from the milktea. "I am not sure. Akazha did not wake up from the ghost hovering over her, so perhaps the ghost was just... curious? Ah but it did try to assault me..."

"It would be best if we could speak with an expert on the matter. Perhaps when we go out into town?"

Raxri nodded. A bout of silence followed as they both sank deep into thought.

After a few moments of this, Raxri asked: "Akazha sure is taking long. Perhaps we should look for her?"

"Worried, eh?"

Raxri nodded. "I have no doubt that Akazha can handle herself, of course. But..."

"Of course. Come, put on the tunic and the sarong. Leave behind the salakot for now and put this on." Sintra Kennin gave Raxri a folded up tengkolok. Its horns were not as tall as a usual tengkolok would be. "To fit in. Around the port towns, servants and laborers wear pudong, tengkolok, and other headcloths. This tengkolok has a shorter horn, see? Really tall horns belong to the nobility or those in administration. Chiefs, kings, sultans, rajas, and their aristocratic ilk. Those that are, well, supposed to be of a bygone era, but have inexplicably survived to this day."

"I see. Thank you." Raxri took it and fitted it onto their head. It fit perfectly. With Puksa tied to their hip with a colorful sash, a long tunic, and a sarong that reached their ankles, they looked like a true-blue mercenary looking for contract work.

Sintra Kennin wore a similar getup now as well. A loose robe with batik patterns, a low tengkolok that only barely held in his burning fire hair, and a sarong that wrapped around his waist and flapped in the wind. His impressive black musculature still shone in the night. "Let us first head to the docks. And keep close."

Raxri nodded. "Right. The Glaives of Heaven."

Sintra Kennin nodded. "There is no telling when they might strike, and from where, and if there are any truly believable and trustable people yet in these islands."

"At least we know that instead of 108, there are now only 107. For I have slain one." Raxri turned around and pulled out their satchel. They slung it across their side. The healing waters--there were around 3 of them left, they thought--clinked around in their porcelain vessels.

Sintra Kennin smiled and nodded approvingly. They set off from the guesthouse.

Raxri Uttara and Sintra Kennin were neither particularly sure of what they were expecting when they arrived at the docks, but it was definitely not a group of dockhands cleaning blood off the front of a kopitiam, a bunch of beaten down mercenaries, and the Port Chief being carried off in a palanquin to the nearest hospice.

Raxri Uttara walked up to a nearby woman wearing a headscarf, a skirt, and a kemben and asked: "Excuse me. What happened here?"

The woman turned and replied in somewhat broken Bazaar Kyarpan: "Ah, I no idea. There girl that made mess and beat down the port chief and goons ken. Woman so strong, she martial artist! She wandering swordsman! But Prime Minister here took her home ken."

Raxri Uttara turned to Sintra. They looked at each other for a moment.

Sintra Kennin asked: "Did the woman fight with a kalis?"

The woman nodded. "She witch ken. Summon one kalis two kalis. She use her In-Power beat Port Chief Si Ragam."

Raxri's eyes widened and they asked: "Where is the Prime Minister's home?"

"O!" The woman turned and pointed up the dirt path. "Follow follow. Then right turn then follow violet hibiscus. Go Prime Minister Longhouse."

"Thank you." Raxri and Sintra Kennin dashed off in that direction.

"What do you think happened that caused the witch to engage in such violence?" asked Sintra Kennin as they rushed through the drith path, weaving through cottages and wagons and servants.

Raxri's eyebrows furrowed, both in thought and in worry. "I've no idea. But it must be grave for Akazha to do something like that."

Sintra Kennin nodded. "Let us hope that she is not being punished for any misdeeds."

Akazha tried to prevent any emotion arising to her face. "Gozon family? Forgive me, I... am not familiar at all."

The Prime Minister inclined his head and raised an eyebrow, becoming a splitting image of askance. "Oh come on. You look Shennin enough. No doubt you've some form of knowledge about the Gozon?"

Akazha tilted her head to the side for a moment. "I know of the name. A Shennin royal house, right?" She spat out a globule of red betel.

"Yes, yes," said the Prime Minister, nodding. "Before the Ultra-Overhaul of the First World Revolution that dismantled the Aristocracy and the Ministry. You should know about that, yes?"

Akazha shrugged. "Unfortunately, Prime Minister Tun Moriwasa, I am a witch. Not a historian. I fear I am not exactly the best equipped for when it comes to these things. All I know is what I've heard."

Tun Moriwasa looked at her for a moment more. No more leering this time. Just a piercing gaze straight into her eyes. Then he said: "The world is dead, dear friend witch. Overrun by monsters. Who knows if we can ever rebuild the greatness of our past? We live in the ruins of names we no longer know. There is no need to hide any longer. Is not your name Diao Gozon, heiress of Selorong Lord Admiral Altai Gozon?"

Akazha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "I... am not. I am Akazha Han Narakdag, witch of Pemi. I know more of Blacklight Town than I know of the Free City of Selorong."

Tun Moriwasa stared at Akazha longer now, eyes glistening. Akazha concentrated, focusing her meditation, and blocking off all ways of accessing her thoughts and memory by channeling her meditational deity. Akazha had no way of knowing if Tun Moriwasa was activating some sort of meditational psychic power to peer into her mind, but it never hurt to be extra cautious.

After a moment, Tun Moriwasa said: "We can make this easy for you, Akazha Han Narakdag. I am of one mind with my High Chief Trasan. If you wish, we can prevent you from being thrown into prison, or suffering any form of punishment, if you simply give up your true name to us and stay here in Imos Town for as long as we need."

"As long as we need?"

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"Until we contact Altai Gozon, of course, and he sends his men to confirm that you are not his daughter." Tun Moriwasa's smile was perfectly amicable.

"This is a fancy place," said Raxri as they walked up the stone stairs that led to the circular hardwood gates painted crimson. The walls were made of sun-dried brick.

Sintra Kennin nodded. "Truly. Imos Town is one of the richest towns in all of this region of the Utter Islands. They are the major international port for travel to the archipelago known as the End of the World."

"Think you that we will find Akazha here?" asked Raxri as they came to a stop in front of the hardwood doors.

"It is time to find out."

Akazha shook her head. "That cannot be, unfortunately. I am under a strict order to return to my vajracharya Sutasoma in Blacklight Town by the next arrival of the yakkamakina. You would not want to be the cause of my delay. Surely you know the prowess of the Ultramystic?"

Tun Moriwasa sucked a breath through his teeth. "Ah, so that is your teacher then? The Ultramystic Sutasoma... what a predicament." The Prime Minister leaned backward and placed a hand on his knee. "Even if that be the case, you are still bound to the laws of this town. Even the Ultramystic respects the customs of Imos."

Akazha thought for a moment, tapping her finger upon her sarong. Then, she said: "Once the vajracharya has allowed it, I will return to Imos Town and face the rest of my punishment. Would that be enough?"

Tun Moriwasa smiled at that. "Ah, you're a sneaky little bitch. And what will assure us that you will not simply escape in this way?"

"I can give you a promisory. Something from me, to ensure that I will return to you."

Tun Moriwasa tapped his chin. Then, he said: "I do have an idea. Tarry, for a while longer."

The Prime Minister called for a servant and then whispered something into her ear. She nodded and rushed off into one of the hallways. Just as she left, a group of servants came in bearing food readied upon porcelain plates. Rice cooked in coconut milk and lemongrass alongside freshly caught milkfish.

"Please, eat while we wait."

Akazha bowed. "The Prime Minister truly is too kind to his upstarts."

The Prime Minister smiled. "Let us just say that perhaps you are closer to a partner than an enemy. Pray that you do not exceed that designation."

As they ate, another servant rushed in. This one was a man, wielding a large circular shield and a spear. He bowed deeply to the Prime Minister and said: "Great Minister. Servants await at the gates. What seem to be mercenaries. A fire-haired ogre and a cloud-haired waif, bearing blades. They seek Akazha Han Narakdag, the witch."

Akazha blinked. She resisted the urge to bury her head into her hands.

Tun Moriwasa turned to Akazha and asked: "Are these friends of yours?"

Akazha thought fast. She only nodded and said: "Yes. Associates. Fellow disciples of the vajracharya."

"Ah! If that is the case, let them in." Tun Moriswasa turned to a nearby servant. "And ready two more plates for them to eat."

Raxri Uttara and Sintra Kennin were ferried through the couryard, and into the main longhouse. A receiving room was there with a chair, no doubt for friends and other acquaintances. No one was there, however. The servant, a young man in an undyed sarong and headband, led them to the right of the living receiving room, which led into a narrow bridge that was roofed but had no walls, that led into another longhouse--the annex--which opened up into a long dining area.

Raxri's eyes immediately met Akazha's. Relief washed over Raxri. Akazha averted her eyes immediately.

The man in a tengkolok sitting rose to his feet. "Ah, more visitors! Come, come! We have food prepared for you."

Both Sintra Kennin and Raxri Uttara bowed deeply to Tun Moriwasa. Sintra Kennin spoke: "I bid the Prime Minister to bear patience and pity for his servant. We have arrived looking only for our acquaintance, the witch Akazha Han Narakdag."

"Well, you've found her!" Tun Moriwasa shook his head and waved them over. "Come, sit and eat. I insist."

"We thank the prime minister for his true generosity." There was nothing else one could say to someone of higher social standing. That was the weave of Imos Town's social fabric.

Raxri Uttara followed Sintra Kennin to sitting on the right-hand side of Tun Moriwasa, facing Akazha, who for the most part tried not to make too much eye contact with the two of them.

Plates filled with the same coconut milk and milkfish were served. Raxri's belly did rumble. They were hungry, and the smell that emanated from the dish only activated their hunger-sensors.

"Eat, eat. You must be hungry. And worried!" Tun Moriwasa turned to Akazha. "Worried for your friend here." Akazha managed a smile. Raxri only nodded. Their eyes darted between Tun Moriwasa and Akazha, completely unsure of the situation. It was like a fight, Raxri realized. They were completely at a loss. They had no means of initiative, no momentum in the fight. They were on the backfoot. They had to be defensive, and the major way of defense at that point was, unfortunately, silence.

Tun Moriwasa asked, as Raxri and Sintra ate tentatively. "Have you an idea of what transpired at the docks this morning?"

Sintra shook his head. "Only vaguely, great minister. That there was a fight."

"And what a show of a fight it was!" exclaimed Tun Moriwasa, grinning at Akazha. Akazha and Raxri exchanged quick, subtle glances. Both of them knew that Tun Moriwasa was on top of everyone here. "I watched most of it. I was in the docks during that time, you know. You witch friend Akazha here barely even showed off any witchcrafts or sorceries. No magicks. I would know! She defeated the port chief Si Ragam purely with martial art. It was a sight to behold."

Tun Moriwasa then turned to Akazha. "Why did you attack our port chief?"

Akazha exhaled. When Akazha was talking, Raxri felt a slight sense of relief. Only she had any form of momentum in this conversation. She said: "The minister should know that I am a wandering warrior. Hence, my greatest currency outside of my Cultivations and my Will is my honor. I was having my very personhood blasphemed and spat on for being a woman. What else could I do? I told them to cease, but they touched me with their eyes."

Tun Moriwasa nodded his head gravely. Neither Raxri nor Akazha could ascertain whether it was serious or in a half-mocking gesture. "Of course, of course. As a great warrior, no one would ever want their honor to be tainted by such a gesture. Especially a strong woman such as you. You have my heart," said Tun Moriwasa. "Unfortunately, true though that may be, Imos Town holds a particular view of when it comes to women. And even if we should throw that away in service of a progressivity, it cannot be ignored that you assaulted and nearly killed our Port Chief. A public servant!"

"A menace. What would happen to the women of the docks, and of the whole of Imos Town, if you had a port chief such as that? What sinister culture has been cultivated here, where women are turned into their bodies?"

"Ah, you wandering warriors. You cultivators and your great senses of justice! I can only empathize, but I cannot do anything more than that. I am not the law. High Chief Trasan is. You must bring that grievance to him."

"I refuse to believe that it has not already been brought up to him."

Tun Moriwasa furrowed his brow. "What mean you?"

"Your High Chief Trasan does nothing to prevent this behavior, and thus is as guilty as the culture. That is the function of kings anyway, yes? To preserve the pillars of a society, to embody it, and to destroy everything that might endanger it?"

The corner of Tun Moriwasa's mouth flickered upward for a second. Only Raxri noticed it, focused as they were at Tun Moriwasa's face.

"That's enough of that," said Tun Moriwasa. He exhaled sharply. "Let us not fall into assaults of royalty. Do not exhaust my hospitality."

Akazha smiled and bowed. "Of course. I speak as an outsider. I am simply materializing my opinion. I hope you understand."

"Of course!" said Tun Moriwasa, and now the fabricated quality of his words became more apparent, as his emotions strained against his demeanor. "A clash of opinions is the basis of a healthy and intelligent society, after all."

Sintra Kennin focused on finishing the rice and milkfish. Despite their status as a sentient being on a higher path, these meddlesome and intricate interlocking bonds is one thing they are not particularly well equipped at dealing with.

Of course, Sintra Kennin knew that the politicking and interpersonal drama was much worse when it came to the intergenerational, centennial social warfare among the gods.

Surprisingly, it was Raxri that spoke out: "With all due respect, Prime Minister Tun Moriwasa, we are ready to pay any required fee to bring my friend the witch Akazha out of trouble. No matter how large it may be, though we only ask the required time."

"You two look like mercenaries," said Tun Moriwasa. "You look like you can handle yourself in a fight. Just like your friend here did. If you want to make amend of things, then I can grant a particular suggestion to the High Chief Trasan for your hearing tonight that might make it easier for you to smooth things over."

Raxri bowed low. "Your servant basks in the lord's grace."

"But I am not yet sure if High Chief Trasan himself will be amenable to it, just keep that in mind. But High Chief Trasan is a kindly and humanitarian chief. Worry not." Tun Moriwasa sighed. As he did, the girl servant he had whispered to made her way back to the dining hall. She bent down and whispered, and then Tun Moriwasa nodded with a smile.

"Now, to get back to where negotiations were before the arrival of your friends. No matter what happens, should High Chief Trasan let you free after your disruption of public good, I myself will put you in a good word for you and let you sail freely to Blacklight Town. However, upon the condition that you dear friend witch lend me some of your blood. As... a promisory. Or collateral."

Akazha exhaled. She prevented a look of disdain and hatred from forming upon her face. Anger churned within her heart. Any magicker worth their salt would never allow their blood to be taken. That invites a recipe for disaster. Blood is one of the most powerful conduits for a being. Any sort of magick can and will be done upon you should you give their blood.

Her wrath arose from the fact that she stuck between that and a hard place. Despite the strength of her own martial art, she will never be able to strike down the very social fabric with just physical violence alone. It require social violence, mental violence, and spiritual violence as well.

She had to bide her time. She will have the protection of Ultramystic Sutasoma anyway, who was one of the most powerful wizards that she knew. Unfortunately, Sutasoma was an ardent pacifist who did not like meddling too much with affairs of political nature. Even those of international matters.

Akazha's face controted into a smile. "Those are amiable conditions," she said.

Raxri fidgeted, Akazha turned and shot them a glance. Calm. You do not know the full extent of this. She was right; Raxri knew it. And so they quieted.

"Well and good! We will take a piece of your blood right here, so as to not betray your trust. Then we will keep you in holding here in my longhouse until High Chief Trasan asks for you. Understood?"

They nodded.

Smiling, Tun Moriwasa said: "Letlet, please."

The girl servant walked over to Akazha.

Akazha shook her head. "Let me." She removed her shawl, revealing only her kemben--unadorned, for she was no noble. She reached up to her chignon and pulled out a golden pin, wavy and razor sharp. Raxri could feel the blade of the hairpin sing.

She pricked the tip of her finger, and then let it drop to the platelet the girl servant, Letlet, had offered. The blood flowed viscuous. Just 2 drops of the blood.

Then, Akazha reset her hair--though now not in a tight chignon but in a messy bun atop her head--and then wrapped her finger in a gauze that had been given her.

Letlet made her way out of the dining hall. Raxri realized that they also did not face away or turn away from Tun Moriwasa or Akazha as they exited.

"There we go! Now, please do eat to your heart's content. The servants shall be bringing in waters and teas now for the three of you. I have other matters to attend to. The servants shall take care of you. Take care now."

And with that, Tun Moriwasa rose to his feet and walked out of the hardwood dining hall.

Just the three of them there now.