A feeling of absolute calm enveloped his entire being, like floating in the tranquil sea. Driven along the surface, the push and pull of gently rocking waves mimicked the breath of an enormous, gentle being; slowly rocking back and forth; all encompassing. And so he adjusted his own breath to the rhythm and lost himself in the waves.

When he opened his eyes again he saw fish swirl like leaves in a current. Awakened from his meditation at the Petrocilius manor's front yard pond, Corco looked around to get back his bearings. The World's Embrace, his ancient family cultivation method, was one of the few things in this world which defied his understanding, at least for the moment. Though he needed to solve one problem at a time. The most pressing of these problems being...

"Fadelio," he called.

"Yes master." While his lord had been meditating, the warrior had stood by his side, ready and alert.

"Looks like we'll have support from the eastern families. That's our first stone on the board.”

With a nod, Fadelio stretched out his arm and helped his master back on his feet.

"So what now? The same estates will be the first to stand in our way as soon as we try to reform and modernize."

Agile on his feet, Corco turned a circle to get his blood pumping and began to move towards the mansion's exit. Morning had broken a while ago and with his routine done, the prince was ready to continue on in his journey, further into his homeland.

"No worries, we won't need their support forever. And we have to make sure to gain control of the empire first and foremost. Only then can we even consider meaningful reforms, to everyone's benefit. By then, even the old-fashioned houses like Petrocilius will thank us."

Their baggage slung over his shoulder, Fadelio followed his lord out of the mansion, towards the waiting caravan.

"Maybe I'm slow again, but we let them take part in our business just now. With all the influence and wealth they will gain from the cooperation, won't we just strengthen an eventual enemy?"

"Those estates will seal their fate all on their own. They won't be the ones to profit from the business. At least not the most. That honor would go to their merchants, their craftsmen and their peasants. The high and mighty lords won't even notice. Like so many in the world, they're too busy looking to the sides or looking up. For hundreds of years, no one in this place has ever bothered to look down."

With a frown, the prince stared over to the head of the caravan, where the young master Primus Petrocilius, representative of all the bad, old-fashioned habits of Medala, had taken a seat atop a donkey cart. With great enthusiasm, the youngster waved at the crown prince and his servant as soon as he spotted them.

"As for us?" When he turned towards his friend again, Corco's serious expression had turned into a wide grin. "Now that we have official support from some of the estates and a runner to bring the message of my survival to the capital, we'll have a lot more time until we need to get there. We'll also need to drum up some more support to win our election. So let's go run a campaign."

“Crown Prince Corcopaca Titu Pluritac requests entry!”

“The master of the house has left for the capital. Your honorable selves can camp outside since it's getting dark.”

“Then we will be thankful for your hospitality.”

“Please do not make things difficult for this servant! Without the master's approval, this servant could lose his head if he were to let Prince Corco inside.”

“...of course. We will seek shelter elsewhere.”

“Dirty Impostor! You will not trick this noble son with your words! All of Medala knows of Prince Corcopaca's lowly death on foreign soil! No matter what tricks you intend to play, leave my lands at once or be prepared to face this young hero's axe!”

“Motherf...”

After their third night outdoors, it was safe to say that things weren't going too well.

All throughout the morning, Estia had tended to the royal gardens. At last, her work was done. Hunched over to replace the old flowers with new ones for the coming season, her knees had almost given in before she could finish her work. At last, she looked up from the dirt on her freezing hands and over the garden's balustrade. From here, she could see all the way down onto Arguna, the silver city. All covered in snow, the buildings and roads of Medala's capital looked truly beautiful. However, she knew that it was all just a facade, a thin veil to cover the true face of the city. Soon, it would be spring, the melting snow an early sign of the coming new year. Once the white blanket was removed, the city would once again show its loud, dirty, ugly nature in all of its glory.

While she sat there and caught her breath, two figures entered the garden and played out an ugly scene of a different kind right behind her back.

“What do you mean 'no harm'?!” Even though Estia didn't turn to look at the intruders, the woman's scream was unmistakable. Empress Mother Spuria Ichilia had entered the scene. Stunned by the arrival of the most powerful woman in the empire, the servant girl made haste to get back onto her knees. With her legs buried in the wet, soft soil once more, she tried to make herself invisible as best as she could. After all, the empress mother was well known for her violent outbursts.

“I mean what I said. No son of House Pluritac will be harmed by his own family!” Despite her best efforts, Estia didn't recognize the second voice. All she could tell was that it belonged to a man. Estia was desperate for a stolen glance, but she knew that any more movements would risk her life. Thus, she tried to blend in with the flowers and just listened.

“Are you telling me that Corco, the little southerner bastard, can be considered a Pluritac?! Don't you want to see Pacha become emperor!? How much thought have we wasted to get that little beast out of the country? And now he's back!? I tell you right away: If the bastard dares enter this palace of mine, I'll slit his throat myself!”

“Enough!” In response to the enraged voice, Spuria's shrill rambling died down and quiet fell over the garden. A few breaths later, the unknown male continued: “Pachacutec will be emperor. Nothing will change that. He still has the support from House Ichilia, does he not?”

“Of course.”

“Which means he also has the support of every estate in central Medala. After we arranged the deal with the foreign merchant, we also managed to win over anyone along the major trade routes between east and west. Not to mention: With his charm and heroic demeanor, Pacha has won over many more beyond material benefits. Strength counts a great deal among the nobility, especially in these times of upheaval.” Filled with pride, the voice continued. “Pacha will be emperor. No one can change anything about that. But I won't have you hurt anyone from the imperial family, for your own sake alone. Touch the members of House Pluritac and I will be the first ally you lose.”

“... this isn't a good place to talk. We should meet again later. At the usual spot.” As Estia heard Spuria's answer, her heart jumped into her throat. She could feel the Empress Mother's eyes stare daggers into her back. However, after what felt like an eternity, she finally heard the relieving footsteps again. For now she would be safe, but it was time to leave. Any further work in the palace would have to be done by others from here on out.

“Then I hope we have a great work together.” With somewhat awkward Yakua, the stout foreigner said his goodbyes. Against the common customs, Prince Amautu answered him with the kind of firm handshake which was common in Arcavia.

“Lord Kallas, it is this prince's great honor to work together on Medala's future.” The foreign merchant lowered his head in respect before he waddled away, down the hallways of the prince's inner city mansion. Since Prince Amautu had far more important issues to consider, the merchant would be guided back out by some servants. After all, how could a commoner of the lowest class ever receive such a great honor from the future emperor of Medala? As soon as Kallas disappeared around the corner, Amautu returned into the room and sat back down on his seat. Once more the second prince put all his focus into the game board and the lord who played his opponent. While the two nobles became immersed in their play, a plain looking servant girl sat to the side and watched without a word. By now, her hands had long been cleaned from the dirt of the imperial gardens.

“Is this truly necessary? To cooperate with these barbarians?” the lord opposite of Amautu said. Lord Tacao Betucio, Governor of the North. Without a doubt he was a grand figure to play a casual game of chess with, but after Prince Corco had been declared dead, Prince Amautu had become the eldest living heir and the nominal successor to the throne. Even though he had never received the official position of crown prince, it had given his words enough weight to sway the powerful lord to his side.

“It is, at least for now. At the moment we have firm support from the north and northwest. Every estate touched by the wisdom of the western lands has joined our side. However, now my people tell me that my older brother has been in contact with the old lords of the east. If Corco proves to be more capable than the third prince, we may well lose our alliance with the traditional estates.”

“How dare they betray us!” Lord Betucio slammed his hand on the table and sprinkled the playing stones around the floor in the process. With his usual calm, Amautu ignored the outburst and started to pick up the pieces. The second prince had always been patient.

“It matters little. The traditional estates are weak, and their support will not decide the succession.”

Still calm, Amautu began to put the pieces back into their dedicated box. This game was over for now.

“However, the betrayal of the eastern estates establishes Corco as a legitimate successor once more. He is the eldest son, after all,” Betucio replied with a frown. Still, Amautu was determined.

“Even if Corco has every right to the silver throne, I will never back down now. This country needs a firm hand, someone who can lead it into the future... and I am the only one who knows the path to glory. My big brother would have been better off staying dead,” Amautu said, the daggers in his voice barely hidden.

“So that was the reason Prince had to cooperate with the barbarians,” with a nervous warble in his voice, Lord Betucio tried to redirect the conversation.

“My mindless young competitor has gained plenty of support thanks to the bribes from the Arcavian merchants. Why should I not get my own pet dog then? For now, we will need their help, to drag out the war for succession and gain some time. Time enough to convince the lords of Medala of the righteousness of our teachings.” Amautu closed the box of playing stones and stood up. The game's rightful place was besides the scrolls on his shelf and that was where he would take it once more. He had practiced enough for now. It was time for a real game, with real stakes.

“The wisdom of the Way will lead us to the light,” the gratified voice of Lord Betucio rang from his back. The lord couldn't see a smile form on Amautu's lips, one in anticipation of things to come. Even if he reached the capital, his elder brother Corco could never achieve his goals. Amautu had always been patient. It was time to reap the rewards.

Olbit Kallas' day had already been quite productive. For far too long had he wasted away in these foreign towns and cities, but at last he had found his entry point into the holiest of holies. Now that his alliance with Prince Amautu had been established, the only way was up... and the day wasn't even over yet. Led by a servant, Olbit walked through the open halls of another mansion in the inner city of Medala's capital. Soon, he arrived at a large courtyard covered in sand. In its center, a man of advanced age, with a balding head and long, braided hair, swung his axe away at the air, unrelenting. One powerful swing after another cleaved apart the empty space before him and created sounds to prove the strength of the strikes. His full concentration was taken up by the exercise, his strength obvious from the log-sized arms covered in tattoos. Impatient, Olbit tried to move in and speak to his secret ally, but he was held back by the servant who had led him here. For now Steen would play by the rules of the barbarians. After a few more swings, Iqtana Villca, the powerful southern lord, had finished his exercise and came to greet his guest, his axe slung over his shoulder.

“Kallas. How did the meeting with the second brat go?”

At the sight of the sweaty lord, Olbit took half a step back before he answered in perfect Yakua.

“The meeting went as expected. Just as Lord Villca said, Prince Amautu was very quick to accept cooperation.”

“Of course he would be. That brat has been brave to fight against his own family all this time, but now that the crown prince is back and people are turning their backs on him, he's bound to get cold feet.”

“So is this crown prince not a problem then? He seems to have done well since his arrival.”

While he took a piece of silk cloth to wipe away his sweat, Villca shook his head.

“In the end, Prince Corco is just a Sachay. They don't have much use for us southerners here in the capital. They will never treat him as one of their own. Not to mention, most lords are still undecided anyways, ideal for our goals.”

“But what if the prince proves to be too competent? I have heard stories of his landing at Porcero. He seems much more capable than at least his youngest brother.”

Despite Olbit's attempt at a serious discussion, he was answered by roaring laughter.

“Well, Prince Pacha is an idiot, so being better is no great feat. Still, don't forget about House Ichilia behind him. Even if the crown prince shows more strength than we expect, all we have to do is pick the weakest side and balance the scales again. Don't forget: Our ultimate goal is a split between the north and the south. In that case, I won't mind Prince Corco in charge of the south, actually. He's one of us after all. Whoever you want to let rule over the north is none of my business then. You'll get your trade through the islands either way.”

Drenched in sweat, the silk fell to the floor. Without a care, the powerful southern lord stepped away, to march down the hallway. He mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to his guest.

“It is time for Sachay to take the power back from Arguna. It is time for the south to take its revenge.” In anticipation of things to come, Lord Villca showed his frightening smile. He didn't smile much. He wasn't used to being happy.

Along a narrow mountain pass, a snake of mercenaries and donkey carts made the laborious journey uphill. Just like Corco had expected, House Petrocilius had been quick to join his cause. In order to corroborate their new agreements to the traditional estate representatives in the capital, young master Primus Petrocilius had been sent along with them. By now, they had already made their way halfway over the ever stunning Sallqata mountain range.

The rolling hills of the western lowlands had been replaced by the tranquil image of snow covered pine trees, the mysticity of the sprawling crags and the enormity of the surrounding Sallqata mountains themselves. With its numerous terraced fields and the hidden secret symbols and places of worship, meant to be seen and used only by the initiated, it provided a sight ever filled with wonder. Once their caravan passed the mountains, they would be a mere day's journey away from the capital. In the morning, high hopes had accompanied their trek into the pass, but almost the entire day had been spent on the laborious climb. In the end, the number of their men and the wide donkey carts were incompatible with the narrow paths and steep steps. When they hadn't tried to coerce their stubborn donkeys to draw the carts up steep inclines, they would had to worry about the long fall down sheer cliffs. The climb had been tough and tensions were rising.

"So we could not have taken a different route, is it like that?"

Dedrick had returned to his usual cynical self after they had left the stiff formalities of the estates.

As usual, Corco ignored the rudeness as he answered.

"Well, we tried that. None of the estates we've visited since Porcero were anywhere near as helpful as House Petrocilius. Maybe you noticed that. And that fucking kid! I'll kill that little bastard for ruining my primary! Seriously, once I'm emperor I'm gonna...”

Enraged, the crown prince's words trailed off. In truth, he really didn't know himself what he intended to do.

“You gotta control yourself, boss. We almost got into a war over your ego.”

Of course the prince understood. Risking the lives of their men over his own pettiness would have been ridiculous. It was the reason why he relented in the end, and had them change course. Still awkward about his lack of success, he looked down into the crags and the raging river down below.

“...Anyways. I didn't think stuff through enough. When we tried to recruit estates, we moved along the main trade routes, because that was the fastest route. Not only are almost all lords in Arguna at this point, they are also the very estates to benefit the most from my youngest brother's trade route. Still, I didn't expect this level of hostility. So we can either keep traveling along the main roads in a futile attempt to gain allies, or we can pick a less beaten path and get to the capital safely. I mean, an ambush on these narrow roads would be bad news, no matter how good your men are. That's why we need to go down this route, even if it takes a bit longer. Plus, there's another place I needed to visit anyways. At least for that one, we're right on track.”

His path ahead reaffirmed once more, Corco looked up towards the towering mountains and the snowy peaks before him. It would be a cold night.