Corco's eyes swerved across the decorated front yard and the people who had taken seat at its tables. Forty-two. He had a hard time putting names to all the faces, but it seemed like all of their collected allies were here to celebrate their apparent victory. As the forty-two small groups of lords and attendants busied themselves with the food and drink in their front, they seemed to have forgotten the reason for their visit. Corco himself did his best to smile and accept the various congratulations which came towards himself.

However, he found himself distracted throughout. The reason was simple: He was worried, much more than he thought he would be. Every time his eyes moved towards the entry, he just couldn't focus on his responsibilities as a host. As the day progressed, his eyes had been drawn over more and more. Sonco and Fadelio were late. By his own count, they should have returned a while ago. He had been confident before, but by now his worry had once again taken the upper hand over his confidence. With slow movements, to make sure that no one would notice his inattention, Corco looked towards the side, to the mercenary who stood guard in the corner.

He would have Dedrick take a few groups of his men towards the inner city, just in case. The prince was about to excuse himself from his onerous duties to ease his mind, but like so often since his return to Medala, his plans were subverted. Without warning, the doors of the inner yard burst open and released the outside world into the exuberant atmosphere. Since the revelry in between himself and the door across the yard drowned out all noise, Corco couldn't hear a thing the new arrivals were saying.

However, just the same he could see his uncle being carried inside by several warriors; and he could see the blood as well. A chill ran down his spine. Corco shot up and sprinted towards the entrance. Like a ripple in a lake, silence spread throughout the yard as more and more lords and attendants turned their heads towards the new arrivals, alerted by the quiet wave from behind. By the time Corco had reached his uncle, the entire place was dead still.

The prince looked down onto his uncle, who had by now been placed on a table by the Saqartu mansion servants. All the while, the guests whose seats had been taken up by the injured warrior had scattered around and observed in shock.

There laid Lord Sonco Saqartu, motionless. His elegant silk tunic had been burned at the edges and dark and heavy spots had formed where blood had soaked the fabric. Its source were the bloody holes which riddled the lord's body. Sonco's eyes were glazed over and swam around in confusion. It was impossible to tell if the lord was still conscious at this point.

“What the hell happened!?”, Corco shouted as his head shot around in search for someone to give answers; or in search for someone to blame.

The warriors who had carried the lord before all stepped back and looked towards the ground, repelled by his eyes. None of them were willing to answer. They knew that a noble in rage could kill any of them without repercussion. Their step back, however, revealed the view onto Corco's attendant.

Fadelio himself was also in a sorry state. His armor was bent and dented by countless tiny impacts. Whatever had happened, the warrior had taken the brunt of the attack, it seemed.

“The Rubria mansion was a trap. All our men are dead. You have to save him.”

Unlike his usual calm, terse self, Fadelio's words were disjointed and erratic as he grabbed Corco's shoulder and shouted in his face. Corco felt a liquid drip on his hand. A look down showed the blood which had formed a stream from beneath the warrior's iron gauntlet down onto Corco's arm. Fadelio was injured as well.

“...what is going on...”

As if a spotlight had been shone onto a stage, the world around went dark as all Corco could see were his uncle and his warrior. Confused and unsure of what to do, he could only stare back and forth between the two of them.

“Laqhis! Do something!”

Fadelio's shout finally brought Corco back to reality. He turned to the injured Sonco, who had since started to groan and wriggle on the table. At least he was alive. Corco drew his dagger and began to cut open Sonco's tunic. With great care, he unveiled the source of all that blood which had since started to form a mirror under the lord.

Slowly, drop by drop, the life force escaped his body and ran down the table, like mountain snow melting in spring. In horror, Corco looked at the wounds. On the left arm alone, he could see two bullet holes. He ignored his uncles groans and turned the arm. No exit wounds. The projectiles were still inside. With slow, mechanical movements, Corco turned his head towards his assistant. His uncle's arm still in his hands, he spoke in a disappearing voice.

“What am I supposed to do about this?”

“You're the genius, aren't you? Don't you always have all the answers? Fix him!”

Furious and desperate, Fadelio began to scream. Corco snapped out of his apathy as well. He wouldn't have this burden placed upon himself.

“I'm not a doctor, so what do you want from me!? I know some first aid, that's it! What fucking good is that gonna do here?! And I'm not a miracle worker either! I can't... I can't do anything...”

His eyes scanned his uncle's body and did what he had always done. Analyze the problem and look for a solution. For a way to fix what was broken. He couldn't find one. His eyes turned back to Fadelio. Hopeless and desperate, he did the only thing that made sense, no matter how pointless. He vented.

“It was your job to protect him! What the hell did you do!?”

The warrior was about to fire back when they were both interrupted by a feeble voice from the table, one which nevertheless bored itself into their minds.

“Don't...”

Corco shot around to face the injured, but conscious Sonco.

“Uncle! How are you?”

The Lord gave a weak smile.

“No need to fight. I am not dead quite yet.”

“Prince Corco...”

Though Corco's mind was already in far too many places at once, again he was distracted by another voice.

“What.”

The prince gave a blunt reply. He really didn't have time to deal with the self-important nobles and pretend to like them. Not right now. Still, he turned to face the lord who had built up his small frame behind himself. The prince wasn't entirely sure which one of the forty-two it was, but the man had an uncomfortable look on his face. Corco had a bad feeling about this.

“Prince... since Lord Saqartu seems to be uncomfortable, it may be better for this Lord to retreat for the night.”

“So you're bailing out.”

He should have realized that this might happen. While Corco had been busy trying to find his father's killer, their alliance had been, to a large part, assembled by his uncle. In the end, it had been Sonco who had held their group together. His uncle was not even dead yet and already some weak-willed lords had reconsidered their position in the face of danger. He could already see them form a line to demand refunds.

“Prince should understand, we live in trying times and these matters should be considered with care,” the man gave a shallow excuse for his cowardice.

“Upao Ogulno, you're leaving already? But I just got here.”

Against anyone's expectations, Sonco preempted Corco's furious answer. His voice much more powerful and steady than it had any right to be, Sonco left the table, to the horror of his nephew. Once again the surroundings froze, until he stood there, tall and imposing, while the life flowed out from his wounds.

“Upao Ogulno! Do you not have the spirit of the great Yaku warriors? Where has our might gone? Our glory? We've already sold everything else to those snakes from across the sea. Will we sell our honor as well?”

“Lord Saqartu, is this not somewhat dramatic...”

An unconvinced Lord tried to justify himself, but Sonco wouldn't let the excuses slide.

“Septus Tineius! Is this how you shame your ancestors? Your own grandfather still resides in the ancestral hall. Will he celebrate once he finds his own heir to be a wimp, afraid of a little death?”

With only his eyes, Sonco commanded over the now silenced crowd. Their heads lowered in shame, all they could do was wait for the man's next, and maybe final, words.

“I'm sure many here are curious. Just who would do such an evil act and attack a lord of Medala within Arguna. You want to know what happened, right? It was Amautu, that little bastard! All of it. The traitor worked with the foreigners. Bought their weapons! Lured us into a heinous trap! Under his temptation, even a mighty hero like Callo Rubria would give up his honor! Give up his honor and betray his own kind to serve his new masters from across the seas!

“Is that what you want? A master to serve as you cower in the corner, your might and honor forgotten? Do you want to sit around and wait for your benefits, until you become just another pawn in their perfidious game!? Any day we are without emperor will be one more chance for them to break our sacred oaths! We must fight back! And for the heroes of Yaku, there can only be one way to end this farce! We need to end this uncertainty, we need a new emperor! I can guarantee you: Tomorrow, the only one with any chance of nomination is Prince Corcopaca Titu Pluritac!

“Take this with you as my last words for you: If you want your juniors to worship you, like you have worshiped your elders, you will have to make a decision today, like our ancestors did in the great storm one hundred years ago. Resist or submit. Think about that on your way home. Silver isn't everything.”

With the gravitas of a wake, one by one, the lords went up to Sonco. Some apologized, some wished him well, some just wished him a good journey. After they had said their piece, all of them turned left, without another look back. After a while, the court was empty. Only Sonco, Corco and their warriors remained. The prince looked up to his uncle, in shock and disbelief.

“Uncle! You're okay! Right, it must be the cultivation! With your cultivation you should...”

While Corco spun fantasies on how to save his uncle's lost life, the man himself lost all his strength and sat back down onto the table, into the puddle of his own blood. By luck, he had held on long enough for all the lords to leave the mansion. He had retained his final dignity and done his final duty. No longer bound by constraints, the deep growl of an injured animal escaped his throat.

“No, wait! Uncle, you're fine! With the cultivation we can save you! Dedrick! Bring me some pliers or something! We need to get rid of the bullets first!”

“...pliers? Like for metalworking?” The mercenary looked at his employer with suspicion. What good would a blacksmith's tool do here?

“...”

Corco returned a blank stare upon his realization: There wouldn't be any medical pliers here. Even if he had them, with his lack of skill and experience, could he extract the deformed lead balls in the torso without ripping his uncle's guts out?

Another growl ripped Corco out of his doubts. This time it had been louder. The pain must be getting worse. Corco connected the picture in his front to the symptoms in his head.

“...lead poisoning? Right. Acute Lead poisoning, increased pain. How do we fix it... right! A chelation agent!”

He looked around himself in panic, on a pointless and empty search which would make him feel in control again. However, he would find no solution to his problems.

“What the fuck is a fucking chelation agent! Where the fuck is it!?”

“Laqhis...”

A voice called his name but he couldn't hear it. Erratic, he looked back at his bleeding, screaming, dying uncle. He was still trying to fix the problems, but there were far too many and he was far too unprepared.

“We need to make a transfusion too... what's his blood group?”

He stopped for a second before he realized something else.

“Corco...”

Another voice went unnoticed. He looked down onto his hands. The evidence fit together. He had finally found the culprit.

“...this is my fault. The reason I can't fix it is me. I could have built a microscope every time I wanted. I could have taught a proper doctor years ago, let him get some practice in. I knew they use guns, why didn't I.... God fucking dammit! 'Don't reveal core technologies on foreign soil'. Are you fucking kidding me you selfish asshole!”

“Hey! Amaya's son!”

Finally, the words from the table registered in Corco's head. Like a puppet on a string, he turned to look at Amaya's dying brother.

“...I don't understand what you're saying, my boy. Often I don't. But there's still some things I want to say, so you'll have to calm down. We can't have you go mad. Not now. After I'm gone...”

“No uncle, you'll be fine.”

“Listen to me!”

His uncle's second shout finally managed to calm the flustered prince. Sonco took a labored breath before he continued.

“After I'm gone, you'll have to carry the burden by yourself. So first you have to promise me to stay calm. No revenge until the two assemblies are over.”

“I promise, uncle.”

Corco's voice was flat, drained of emotion. His previous rant had sapped all vigor from his body. At the moment he couldn't consider anything besides agreement.

“The killer wasn't Amautu.”

“What!?” Corco got up, his body once again brought to life by the revelation. “Then why...”

Through a face distorted from pain, Sonco gave a shallow smile.

“Before today, Amautu's reputation was still fine, at least compared to that illegitimate creature. Now you have a sharp weapon against both. It's the last thing I could do to help. Please don't hate me. I had to do it. For you. For Medala.”

“...then who...”

“Villca. That old bastard. I've always hated that snake, but at least I thought he was upright. Now even he's working with the foreigners. Now, he's just like the other two. We've all spent far too much time here, in Arguna. This dirty city has corrupted us all...

“He's seen our success. Seen that his southern revolution would fail and decided to take action. Take me out and the alliance crumbles. He knew that. His plan won't work though. After this, you'll still have the alliance, at least for a while. Deep down, Villca has always been a wimp, you know? In the end, the coward couldn't even face me by himself. Tell the wimp that it's my win. I'll see him on the other side, axe at the ready.”

“Uncle, you...”

“Yeah. I'm probably done. My stomach feels like fire.”

Sonco groaned as his body bent up from the pain.

“When you meet them again, tell Mayu and Guanca that I couldn't make it home. There were things I had to do. But I'll get through the darkness; and I'll be watching from above. And tell Atau... that I'm sorry. I really wanted to see that beard of his.”

The man let out a small laugh, but it only made his pain worse and transformed into a string of dry, uncomfortable coughs. Corco gripped his uncle's hand and answered through his tears.

“Don't worry uncle. I'll get you home once you're gone. And I won't let this be in vain. I'll do whatever it takes to win. Whatever I have to. I'd rather see this country in flames than in the hands of the snakes. Just leave it to me.... just...leave it to me.”

Throughout the night, Corco and his two warriors stayed next to the great Governor of the South, long after the life had left his body.