> Until very recently, the primary mode of trade in the Utter Islands was pure barter. In truth, until now it is barter trade, as differing communities valued differing things. However, due to the Monsoon Market, the standard currency has become joss sticks (incense sticks), specifically bright gold sticks that create a lambent azure flame when burned.

>

> These joss sticks are shorter sticks (around a finger long) with incense paste made of Vaizzanblood. Joss sticks are produced and minted by Vaizzan the God of Wealth, who resides in the far north Cloud Realm. Joss sticks have become currency because the Monsoon Market includes trade with the gods as well, where the smoke of joss sticks become amrita, the most delicious food of the gods.

>

> Joss sticks is commonly just written as joss. A popular short hand is js.

>

> From Movement of the Winds Volume 1

"1,000 joss?" Akazha coughed. She looked like she had swallowed razor blades. "I... will see what we can do."

"Imos Town is a prolific town. Connected to the Monsoon Market. I'm sure you'll be able to find some sort of labor, being Cultivators and all that," said the Captain. "You won't need to pay the debt any time soon. I can spot that myself. However, mark it upon thine hearts that you must pay me by the third time I ask it from you."

Then she brought out her arquebus again. She exhaled and a sulfurous yellow smoke infused into the gun. She aimed it both at Raxri and at Akazha, and then pulled the trigger.

No bullet erupted.

Instead, a small mote of brimstone shot out and branded itself upon Raxri and Akazha's chests. "If not? Then I will bring the full force of my Gun Oracle System upon you. Understand you?"

Raxri and Akazha looked at each other, then at each other's chests, before nodding. Akazha said: "We will try to get your payment in due time, and as soon as we can possibly do, Captain Ampalila. I thank you for the extra time you adorn us."

Captain Ampalila shrugged. "I am just glad no one died upon this barge. I do not need another wandering ghost or lost soul haunting this barge and bringing in all the demons."

"Ooh, yes. Terribly vicious and horribly difficult for business, that," Dewitta chimed in.

Raxri asked: "That bullet that you spoke of. The one that had venom. Is that a technique of your Gun Oracle System?"

Captain Ampalila smirked. "Oh, that? That was a bluff. I can't do that yet. I wish for no souls haunting this vessel. The venom was a farce to force him into retreat."

Akazha nodded, impressed. "And if he didn't?"

"Well, I would have had to show off more of my Gun Oracle System. More than I am capable of revealing to other Cultivators and other potential people."

"Why?" asked Raxri Uttara.

Akazha immediately tagged in and said: "Do forgive my charge. They have awoken from a terrible fate, and have lost all their memory. Do not take it as malice upon you. Rather, take it as incompetence."

Captain Ampalila stared at the two of them with eyebrows furrowed. She wondered if these youths were being serious. Then, she said: "I... will prefer not to get entangled in that any further. So I will not press the matter. But, yes. If you need a... refresher for how the Black World of Martials and Mystics works. Unless absolutely pressed to the point, you must never unveil your hallowed techniques. Ever. Be that a martial maneuver or a flex of wizardy. You must temper both pride and wrath. Unveiling your techniques to this world is a surefire way of letting another martial art or sorcery develop a counter to it. Hence the terms counterattacks and counterspells.

"You will also understand why very personal fights are fought in lonely bamboo groves, deep in the forests, high in the mountains, or upon deserted islands or sea caves, where no other being can find them. You must make sure that only a select few, only those most important to you, are privy to your techniques or talents. Lest you ensure your martial art's placidity, loss, and eventual forgetting. No one wishes to dedicate their lives to a martial art that has been thoroughly countered by multiple other schools."

"I see. I am enlightened once again, truly. I thank you from the deepest wells of my Will, Captain Ampalila. Second Dewitta."

The captain smiled at that. She turned to Akazha. "Are you their master? You seem a bit too young to be a teacher."

Akazha shook her head. "Ah, haha. No, no. I am but a fellow disciple. We help each other, is all."

"Then you must teach this amnesiac brother of yours! Treat them like the responsibility that they are. Do you understand?"

Akazha nodded. "Yes, of course, captain! I do just that. Thank you again for your help."

"And consider getting this one some armor. Or perhaps you can find someone that teaches the Iron Shirt Style within Imos Town. Or maybe even Wadzara Shield. Or someone that supplies elixirs. Anything to strengthen this one's durability. Any sudden blow from a higher Cultivator will shatter them."

Captain Ampalila cracked her neck. Rose to her feet. She said: "You can stay in here for the rest of the ride to let Raxri Uttara rest. If you are in need of anything else, let me know. Otherwise, take the opportunity for repose." And then the two of them were gone.

Akazha sighed. "Fierce ones, they are."

"But they seem kind," said Raxri, thinking. Akazha shrugged in an I-Guess-So movement. "Another part of this world I am enlightened to. Despite the surge of information, I am enjoingthe constant stream of things I must learn."

"Yes, well, that is the way of things. This world is a complicated one. But it is important that you have learned it earlier than later. How fares your arm?"

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"Still stings." Raxri raised it. It was no longer covered in blossoming purple bruises. It did not look charred anymore. Scars lined it like grass upon soil. "But I can move it now. The healing poultices are doing them wonders."

"If I had better ingredients I would be able to find better ways to heal your arm. Or better yet, a mending spell. Let us hope that the Wadzaracharya deems me worthy of learning one. For your sake."

"Wadzaracharya?"

"Thunderbolt Teacher or Master," replied Akazha. "As we come closer and closer to the inter-island Monsoon Market, you will begin to find more and more terms that come from the Elder Tongues. Karitan, Boniyan, Dweossian, Sikan. You will understand all these things in due time. You have no choice, under Ultramystic Sutasoma."

"Of course."

The Sun sank once again neath horizon's waters.

The barge finally docked at Imos Town.

The thousands spirit-workers lounged about the outriggers. Many of them turned out to be birds. Maya-maya. Others were serpents and catfish that leaped into the waters. Back home at least, they were.

Akazha had fallen asleep beside Raxri.

To be more precise, Akazha had fallen asleep upon Raxri. In an effort to heal Raxri's arm immediately, exhaustion gripped her and threw her down the whorls of slumber. She awoke with her face against the nook of Raxri's shoulder. Despite knowing that she was not the best of healers, as healing magicks was never her forte, she pushed on.

She swallowed. She did not push away. Not yet. Raxri was warm. So warm.

Are they developing a fever? was her first thought. Gods, no. Please. I've no capacity to care for that as well...

Though perhaps Ultramystic Sutasoma had something for that plight.

Raxri stirred awake as well. With their other hand they caressed Akazha's head. Then they said: "My arm numbs."

Akazha's eyes blinked open. She pushed herself off of Raxri. "Your arm?"

Raxri nodded. They wrung the arm that Akazha had fallen asleep upon. "You are not heavy, fret not about that. But anything that lies upon my arm for too long numbs all feeling from it."

Akazha mopped her face. She felt herself hot. Think nothing of it. "Forgive me. I believe we are at Imos Town. Can you walk?"

Raxri nodded. They sat up, and then Akazha helped them to their feet. Their left hand, still bruised, they could move much freely now. It was still wrapped in that gauze, but it no longer felt like Raxri had lost their entire left hand. They also felt no stinging from their arm as well.

"Take care overmaneuvering it. It requires plenty more repose."

"And it shall get it," said Raxri, nodding. "But what is important is that I have access to this hand even in its enfeebled state. I thank you once again, Akazha. I am indebted to you, as always."

"Do not revel in this comfort. I might not be here for you for the wholeness of your existence."

"Then I shall treasure the amount I have of you right now." Raxri hugged Akazha, warmly. Then, they walked out.

Akazha was stunned. Just a bit. Then she exhaled and walked with them.

***

An eagle sailed overhead. It dove into the town. A sprawling copse of stilt houses rolling out from the river and unto the sea beyond.

The sea. It glistened. It sang. It sparkled. Even as the sun sank deep into its horizonal waters, it gleamed. Its radiance was the world. The world's radiance was the sea. It sings of infinite possibilities. Choose a direction. Prove that you can survive it. Then you will find treasures unrequited. Islands and cultures and cities. Ah, the sea. Ah, the waters. The very lifebloods of the Utter Islands. Our ancestors have so perfected the art of traveling its dangerous currents. Every human alive has some modicum of ocean within them, despite the majority of humans now choosing to stay deeper and deeper inland.

The terror you feel when seeing the ocean is familiarity...? It is the same feeling of seeing home.

Every house in Imos Town was decorated with streamers, chains, wreaths, and lined with gold. The abundance of gold in the Southern Utter Islands made it no commodity. It had the same value as a piece of textile cloth. But those of the Northern Utter Islands valued this gold. While those of the Southern Utter Islands valued more the silver and mercury they could get from the North. And so the wheel turns.

The town's most noteworthy landmark was the large, three-roofed longhouse that served as the Palace of Imos Town's High Chief. It was not situated by the center of the town--oh no, that is a horrible idea. All important houses must be situated away from both the river and the sea, so that it is safe from raids and surprise ambushes. The palace was placed upon a hill, overlooking the rest of the Town. It had fabulous red rock walls around it, letting it double both as an enclave, but also as an evacuation center for when raiders arrived upon Imos Town's shores.

Though, due to the increasing amount of resident warriors and Cultivators, and the general aptitude of Imos Town's people for war (everyone brought a lance with them), lesser and lesser raids have been conducted upon its shores.

Imos Town gleamed against the sea. A perfect complement. The town's houses rolled even into the waters of both the river and the sea. Fish farms there, burgeoning from a complex interlocking latticework of stilt houses. The sea for crabs, clams, saltwater fishes, stingrays, sharks. The river for eels, freshwater fishes, catfish, snakes, crocodiles. Behind it, further upfield, were the crop squares. Here, so close to the sea, they only planted taro and yams. This was their most common food. Rice was a commodity, traded in from international traders or upland Pemi Island. Only those with greater income could afford rice on the daily.

But this was just as well. The fishermen and farmers of Pemi Island swear by Pemi Taro. It gives them the strength and is integral for energy, as farming and fishing are energy intensive work. It was, by all intents and purposes, their choice of carbohydrates. What a beautiful sight. In a region so swallowed up by rice worship. The taro goddess, known only by her epithet Shra Asri, is the elder sister of the rice goddess, Shree Dauwi. In modern times she has fallen to the wayside, as taro was largely replaced with the often tastier and stronger rice crop. But she thrives yet, content, following now the tenets of the Law, or Wokism. The people of the seasides and those that live in arid lands that do not have enough rain or river for their rice crops turn to her, and she accepts them whole. Shra Asri has a somewhat amicable relationship with her sister, and she holds no contempt for her. Shra Asri is content, and her strength is known to all.

Imos Town was the largest spot of civilization that Raxri had ever arrived at ever since the loss of their memory. Seeing all the bustling people, running to and fro, selling and packing and moving, lighting lanterns and cooking late night meals and trading in noodle-cakes... a warm feeling arose in Raxri. Giddiness, at first. This melted away into a churning sense of hope. Like a soup that will last for a hundred years.

Sintra Kennin watched as the last of the passengers disembarked. Captain Ampalila and her right hand Dewitta were in the port, signing some document scrolls and coordinating with the dock hands who set out to work on the luggages and cargo immediately.

He had shorn his upper armor now. His lamellar breastplate completely shorn. Instead he wore a simple cloth cloak. Undyed. Simple. It showed off his bristling musculature, embroidered through by beautiful tattoo patterns. Abstract representations of animals, mountains, waves. Nature in its fullest. His lower half was still completely armored, and he still had his parukas and bag with him. He looked like a true wandering maharlika, looking for a new lord to fight for.

He turned around and saw Raxri: "Ah, cloud-headed heaven dancer! You live yet! How fare you?"

Raxri shrugged. "I will live, more or less. What is important is that I can move both my limbs."

"I would advise against such firebrandicity," said Sintra Kennin. "You have just recovered. And without any healing magick, just pure knowledge of the world."

"Well," said Akazha, shrugging. "There is a bit of witchcraft."

"A twist of culture," said Sintra Kennin, smiling. "Where do we go from here?"

Akazha said: "The next giant transport to Blacklight Isle is still two days from now, at noon. So we will have to make do and spend the night here. Lodging should be easy to find here. Let us find our way."

Bags in tow, the three of them walked out of the barge.

Akazha came up to the noodle shop that was just about finishing opening up. "Does hunger dwell within your stomachs yet, my dear companions?"