As he forced his tired body beyond its capability, Corco's muscles began to jitter under the strain. He could feel the sweat run down his spine and his wet hair stick to his forehead, despite the headband. With a single mighty pull he forced his body up and above the bar. Corco really didn't enjoy the pull-ups, but the virtues of modern training methods were obvious. A much more comprehensive and focused workout than the traditional methods of the Pluritac clan had allowed him to overcome his physical disadvantages. In conjunction with his family's cultivation technique his body had reached an astounding level of athletic prowess. That didn't mean he had to like the process though.

Muscles tensed and quivering, he forced his body up again, to get his head over the damn bar. He could feel that he was overdoing it, but he needed some way to vent, to fight off the dread he felt in the face of his new foe. Thus, he grit his teeth and push on. Another centimeter. Another. Just... a bit mo-

“Prince Corco! A guest!”

“Woah!”

Brought off balance by the sudden shout, Corco felt his left hand leave the bar, shortly followed by his right. His entire world slid to the left before his back made contact with the rough sand of the training yard and began to spin around him like a top. Prince Corco pressed his eyes closed until he would stop seeing stars.

“Prince Corco! Are you wounded!?”

Annoyed, Corco brushed the wet strands of his hair out of his view. Sand and dirt had gotten stuck on the sweaty film of his hands and left a smear on his forehead. He would have loved some time to calm down first, but he could hear the steps of his provisional attendant come closer already. Without the time to collect himself, he sat up and answered, anger still fresh on his mind.

“Didn't I say no disturbances?”

Corco looked up to Primus, his once-again temporary assistant, who had halted in panic and stepped from one foot onto another, a clear sign of his nervous confusion. Again, Fadelio was out to take care of important business, so the prince got stuck with the young noble. By now, Corco had formulated a plan against what he believed to be his ancestor's scheme, but he would have to find a way to meet the priests first. Since the ancestors had banned the princes from doing exactly that, the plan afforded greatest care and secrecy. It wasn't something just anyone could be trusted with. Corco missed his usual assistant already. However, he really couldn't fault the kid. He had been the one to overdo his training and he had also been the one to slip.

“Don't just stand there, help me up.” The prince stretched out his hand and Primus, relieved that he could prove himself useful, helped the downed master back on his feet.

“Thanks for that.”

Corco felt the coarse sand stick all over his body. It had even made it into his robe. To alleviate the itching, he began to shake and shiver the kernels out of his clothing as best as he could.

“Uhm... Prince Corco...”

Primus cleaned his lord's back with cautious pats as he spoke haltingly.

“Oh yeah, is there any word from Fadelio yet? We really need a way to meet the Pachayawna somehow. This little plot is way too fun. Can't wait to see the old bastard's face.”

“A Lord has requested a meeting!”

Primus shouted right next to Corco's ears. The prince stopped hitting himself and looked up to the young lord, finally ready to listen.

“Why didn't you just say so?”

“...I did,” Primus replied with a face that looked ready to cry.

“Right, sorry. Still, no lord is gonna be much help. We don't need to deal with the lords right now, we need to deal with the-”

“The guest is Lord Nasica.”

“...huh?”

“Lord Eborius Nasica awaits Prince Corco in the salon. The lord has come to speak on behalf of the Pachayawna.”

For a few seconds, Corco just looked at his attendant with dull eyes, as he tried to comprehend the announcement. He couldn't even fault Primus for his gloating grin. He really should have listened sooner.

Eborius Nasica wasn't a name Corco was especially familiar with, but he still remembered the one time he had heard it. He had met the lord on his way to the capital, on top of Mount Urquna, meditating at the holy lake. Same as back then, the middle-aged Lord wore simple bluish-gray robes and had his head shorn like a priest. He was still thin, but unlike their last meeting, this time his dark eyes had lost their dull sheen and sparkled like obsidian.

Once again, Corco found himself sitting opposite of Nasica again. Unlike their previous meeting, it wasn't across an entire lake, it was merely across a table.

“As of yet, this old man not had the chance to thank Prince for his inspiration.”

“Inspiration? You mean the music?”

Corco looked at the calm man in confusion as he took up the teacup in his front.

“The melody of that night made this old man understand the gentle strength inherent in the stars, beyond the harsh and cold light... and I saw that there might be hope for the Yaku yet. It brought me back to life, so to speak.”

After his fall, it had taken Corco a while to make himself presentable, so his first sip of tea was already cold.

“Well, I'm glad I could help, even if it wasn't really my intention to do so.”

With a frown, he put the cup back to the table.

“This old man pledges to honor the debt he has accrued. I have made contact with the faithful lords around the Sallqata Mountains. At least a few will send message and join Prince Corco in the fight for succession.”

Corco answered the man's shallow smile with an encouraged nod.

“Thank you. That will be a great help. With the extra votes, we'll finally have a majority within the assembly. At that point, there's no way the ancestral hall can push through their favorite anymore.”

Nasica raised a brow.

“So prince intends to oppose Great Ancestor Viribus?”

Corco's frown returned. This time, it wasn't from the tea.

“...I don't have a choice. It might sound presumptuous, but I don't believe the great ancestor has the best intentions for Medala. That's why I need to talk to the Pachayawna. At least he should hear my opinions and form his own on that basis.”

Corco looked at the calm face of Nasica in suspicion.

“You don't seem surprised.”

“There has been talk among the lords that Prince wishes to make contact with the Pachayawna.”

“...it's already spread that far, huh?”

“After all, Prince did not have the time to be subtle. However, the Pachayawna will not be able to meet with Prince, not until tonight's funerary rites. The same would apply for any of the priests. Thus, this old man has been sent in their stead to speak to Prince and send message back to the Pachayawna.”

Out of his long sleeve, the lord pulled a sealed piece of paper. Meanwhile, Corco was startled by his own luck. All of this only because he had played that song back at the lake. Could it be that in this world, good deeds were rewarded?

“This should suffice as proof of identity.”

With a nod, the prince took the letter and put it to the side without a further look. The seal on the front was genuine and he had to get to the core of the issue fast, so he decided to go with trust for once. He wet his lips with more stale tea to steady his mood before he began his sales pitch.

“First I'll ask a question. What do you believe the ancestor's goal is in this succession?”

“...to make sure the most outstanding prince inherits the throne, correct?”

Though his face was still a mask, Nasica's voice wavered.

“You really believe that? You just threw your lot in with me. Why would you do that if you didn't believe I was the best candidate? With everything that's happened over the past year or so, it's pretty obvious who the ancestor wants on the throne. It's probably Pacha, maybe Amautu, but it sure as night isn't me.”

“Prince exaggerates. The ancestor is simply-”

“-suspicious, because I've been away for so long?”

Nasica looked awkward. Even though it had been the official reason to deny Corco his nomination, everyone understood how flimsy an excuse it really was. Since his return, the first prince was the only one who had shown any amount of respect towards the ancient Yaku traditions. It was obvious that Viribus was playing favorites, but most people was too busy recounting tales of the man's heroics to even consider the why. Corco wasn't most people.

“Let's try to get to the real reason. Why would the ancestor act like that? I'm sure you've heard what happened in the ancestral assembly by now. Why didn't he just support me and have me crowned emperor? I'm the first prince after all, the most legitimate heir. I have gained support from a majority of the estates and proven myself eloquent enough to win a public debate. Plus, I won a brawl. Both martial and learned. Look at the direction Medala is moving in, or House Pluritac for that matter. Things will continue to go downhill until we elect a new emperor. Elder Viribus could have ended our state of weakness yesterday. Why didn't he?”

“I'm sure Prince will have a satisfactory answer to this quesiton.”

Nasica smiled as he pushed the boat along.

“...I don't think it'll make anyone satisfied, but I have a working theory. What if the old man doesn't really care about the country, or about his family?”

The fake priest across the table swallowed hard. Of course Corco had expected a strong reaction. Still, as a man trained in harsh meditation, Nasica didn't say a word and just waited for Corco to explain himself.

“Everyone who is willing to look can see that the old man isn't interested in family or country. Otherwise he wouldn't make these terrible choices again and again. All the hall's decrees since my father died have only served to strengthen the foreigners or the lords who wish for more independence. Why would he do that if he wanted to preserve the line?”

Nasica still remained patient. Annoyed that his opposite wouldn't answer his questions, Corco just did it himself.

“He wouldn't, is the correct answer. But what if his goal is something else? Something greater? Are you aware of the nature of Arcavus, the god worshiped by the men from across the ocean?”

“Not in detail.”

“Well, you're aware of the stories though, right? How our ancestors left the continent because they didn't want to take on the new religion.”

“Because the heathens had claimed their king to have killed the great Pacha. What outrageous nonsense.”

Gratified at the reaction, Corco continued.

“Correct. Because over there, they think that their great lords can jump up to the sky and fight for the position of god. In short, any of their rulers can be a god after death, especially the great ones. The grand ancestor has lived long enough for three lifetimes. He has achieved everything a man could ever hope to accomplish and then spent years on travels. Imagine him as he encountered an Arcavian priest on his journey. For an old hero at the end of his life, can you imagine what kind of temptation that must have been? The chance to live on forever, as a god. Once you assume this idea as the ancestor's goal, everything else begins to make sense.”

Again Nasica had grown silent again, but this time he was hunched over, in deep contemplation.

“Viribus wants to drag out the succession, the longer the better. If a new emperor comes to power, it better be a weak one, one who is easily controlled. In the meantime, the foreigners get a chance to spread themselves within the power vacuum. The weaker the power core of Medala becomes, the easier it will be to replace the old order.”

Corco took a breath before he made the crucial connection to the priesthood.

“I'm sure the priests consider tonight a great chance for the Pacha faith. A chance to get involved in Medala politics. After all, they will elect the next emperor. Once the precedent is set, the prestige of the priests is bound to soar. However, I am warning you. What they have been handed is a poisoned chalice. Once the Pachayawna speaks out the name 'Pachacutec' tomorrow, it will seal the end of our faith. Pachacutec, backed by his ancestor and the foreign merchants, will do his best to wipe out our faith and replace it with the Arcavus cult. Because that's what needs to happen for the old man to fulfill his goal... and become a god.”

“...this... is deeply troubling. If any of it is true, of course.”

Nasica looked back up with a frown.

“Of course I can't prove any of this. However, please consider the consequences if what I say is correct. There's much less risk in siding against Viribus. At least the faith will persevere.”

With a grave face, Nasica nodded his head.

“This is a grave danger faced by our entire people. I will give Prince Corco's word to the Pachayawna and implore him to pay heed.”

“Good. And tell the grand priest that if, and only if, he decides to fight for the survival of our faith, there is a bit of extra assistance I can provide.”

With a soft clink, another green bottle landed on the table between the two. Corco barely managed to suppress a grin. He had been given a way to fight back and he would use it well.