Brym's first trip inland, into the hinterland of Medala's east, had started as a bit of a disappointment.

Although the rolling hills, framed by the distant Sallqata Mountains, were beautiful by themselves, the people he met along the way soon soured his mood. Run-down villages, stuffed full of poor, starving farmers were interspersed with simple dirt paths which connected them to the rest of the world. It seemed that no matter Arcavia or Medala, the poorest of society would always suffer under their own personal burden. No wonder Corco was so intent on improving their lives. At least once Brym had reached Samusca, home to House Petrocilius, things had improved somewhat.

Unlike the rest of the Petrocilius Estate, the family mansion and the surrounding town were clean and orderly, although one could still smell the stale air which had been accumulated over centuries of stiff tradition. Maybe today would be remembered as the moment a fresh wind blew away old habits.

“As day draws to a close, so does the second journey of life. The rain has fallen to earth and grown into a lake. Just as the waters themselves move on as rivers, it is time for this youngster to confront the outside world and affect the lands with change, be it gentle or roaring.”

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the distant mountains, Primus Vitus Petrocilius stood up from his deferential kneeling position within the family pond of the Petrocilius Manor. For the first time since his birth, the youngster held on to the pins which had keept his long hair bound above his head, before he stepped forward, out of the shallow waters which had lost their sheen after the sun's escape.

Only for a short moment of contemplation did the young master of the house halt, before he steadied his nervous breath and pulled the pin, taking with it his symbolic dependence on his own parents. Shiny black strands fell and danced in the evening air like silk tassels, drawing the attention of the crowd. Meanwhile, the youngster was focused on his own father and elder before him, with regained confidence.

“These are trying times, times of change,” the young man began with much more surety than what he had shown at any point during the ritual proper. “Within the past season, throughout the war for succession, this young master has seen how deep a rift has formed through all of Medala. These faults threaten to split our glorious empire apart, as all men here would be able to attest. Thus, the youngest generation of Petrocilius, first son of Vitus, chooses to, from now on, hold a name fitting for such times, a name of heroism, and one to connect and unite the lands, so that all may know that House Petrocilius will evermore stand for unity, and not for strife.”

While Primus spoke, two servants marched over, to hand the young master a headband which would reign in his free hair once more, and an axe to prove his maturity. Although he had worn weapons before, this time would be different. Once Primus picked up the axe and declared his new name, he would officially be considered an adult member of the house, with all the amenities and duties entailed in the position. Although Brym himself could not imagine just how the youngster would feel in this moment, he was content enough to enjoy the rare spectacle he had been invited to.

Axe in hand and hair under control, Petrocilius stepped out of the water, towards his grandfather, to greet him as an adult for the first time in his life.

“Younger generation, Sonco Vitus Petrocilius, greets Elder Horatius.”

Shocked by the young adult's words, a small tumult broke out within the mansion's plaza as multiple voices spoke out of line.

“How dare he, name himself after a southern lord! Where is our glorious tradition!”

“I hear he was present when Lord Saqartu died. I wonder if the southern hero spoke any words which left an impression on the youngster...”

Although the area around Brym, the space reserved for dignitaries from other estates, was chaotic, swirling with disparate opinions, the young merchant ignored all the noise and concentrated on the elder of the house, the only man whose assessment counted. Over in the center of the formation, Elder Horatius still retained a slight smile on his face, seemingly unperturbed by his grandson's choice of name. Whether or not he approved of the youngster's new moniker was impossible to tell, but at least the elder seemed to have no interest in opposing the young man in front of outsiders.

Good enough for now, Brym thought as he stepped back on quiet soles. Soon he had left the open court, and with it the noise of politics, out of the view of anyone. Although he would have loved to stay and watch the rest of the proceedings, there was no need for him to cause trouble for young master Sonco. So long as Brym wasn't present, none of the other officials in the mansion could accuse Corco of trying to take over King Amautu's eastern estates. With Brym, Corco's dignitary, out of the picture, any accusations would be no more than rumors, much easier to handle than a direct confrontation.

After he had marched for a while, Brym found himself in a side garden built in a traditional Medalan style. When he had first come here a few days ago, he had taken to the space in an instant. Maybe it was the age of everything in Samusca, but the young outsider thought he could spot some leftover influence from Arcavia in the old Medalan architecture. With a tiny sigh, Brym took seat in the moist grass next to one of Medala's ubiquitous water features, a small spring which broke straight from a rock, and stared up at the stars. Once again reminded of his own distance from home, he tried to understand the deep fascination Medala's people had with those small dots in the sky. He had some time to kill after all.

Although he understood the beauty of the stars on an intellectual level, the realist Brym knew that beauty and truth counted for little against cruel reality. Rather than admire the sparkling stars up above, he was content to admire the blinking coins in his hand. Maybe this was the reason he had followed Corco all the way here, halfway across the world. There was something good and pure about his big brother's ideals, just like the stars. And just like the stars, navigated by Captain Atau, had led them here, he had decided to be led along by Corco, and follow wherever he went, to take steps he could never conceive by himself.

“A beautiful night for festivities. The Divines smile upon us.” The sudden interruption by a friendly voice sent cold shocks down Brym's spine. By the time he caught himself, the youngster's hand had already reached the pistol hidden within his Medala-style robes. From the voice alone, Brym recognized the man who had addressed him, and he also knew that the intruder had not come with ill intentions. Relieved, he retracted his hand again from the steel.

“Official Brymstock di Pluritac greets Governor Betucio.” Swift, but without haste, Brym stood up to offer a proper address to the Governor of the North. In response, the lord answered with a smile as warm as his voice.

“No need to be so stiff, youngster. I must say that I was surprised by the young Petrocilius' choice of name, but your presence here explains quite a bit.”

“Lord Betucio exaggerates. After all, the name was chosen by young master Sonco himself. What influence could a simple warrior have on a young master's decisions, an outsider no less? Indeed, the high honor of being witness to this joyous occasion humbles me deeply, and was only granted to me as a stand-in for King Corcopaca.”

“Again, there is no need to pretend humility before me,” Betucio said as the high lord sat sat down on the low ground and motioned Brym to do the same. “After all, I am here in the same function, only I was tasked to represent King Amautu instead.”

“It appears as if the King of the North has great trust in Lord Betucio.” Although Brym's words were a compliment on the surface, the implication was anything but. Interested in Betucio's response, Brym turned to face the lord. However, his opposite disappointed him with a complete lack of reaction.

“No need for probes, youngster," the middle-aged lord smiled. "As far as I am considered, nothing has changed since the time in the capital, neither my allegiance nor my stance. Ostensibly, I still believe that King Corco would be the best candidate for emperor among the former princes. However, Amautu was never foolish, and he has learned from his mistakes. No matter their previous allegiance, Corco has treated his new subordinate lords well. He seems intent on leaving them many freedoms, only retaining the most crucial functions. Of course all the lords are eager to embrace these freedoms, especially in the face of King Pacha's rumored plans.”

“So if Lord Betucio has been afforded so much freedom by King Amautu, I wonder why he would still have appeared here, at the maturity rites of a single youngster from a backwards province.” Brym knew about the plethora of rumors which surrounded Pacha and his staff since the great hero had lost the duel against Corco, but Brym was much more interested in the governor's own motives. Why else would he seek Brym out here and engage in talks, away from prying eyes?

“Yes, it seems to be strange, does it not? However, the answer is simple and does not test my loyalties for either side. King Amautu has advised the lords of the north to closely follow the actions of King Corco, and learn from his rule. In the end, I am still the Governor of the North. I need to guarantee that more than just Sachay will benefit from the wonders of the east.”

Although it was a shallow compliment, Brym still smiled at the mention of his first shop in Medala, built in the port town of Porcero.

“So Lord Betucio wishes to browse our wares? Had I known sooner, I would have brought an assortment with me.”

However, despite Brym's best attempts at a sales pitch, Betucio only laughed and raised one hand in defense.

“Back in Arguna, King Corco offered enough 'assortments' to last me a lifetime. Instead, I heard that Official Brym has offered House Petrocilius a partnership beyond the previous wine and Brandy arrangement, this time in an effort to cultivate a strange plant of the east.”

Though the deal between him and House Petrocilius should have still been a secret, Brym wasn't surprised that the powerful governor had learned some details during his own time in Samusca. With calm eyes, the merchant tried his best to play down the role the plants would have in Medala's future.

“The lemon is only a simple fruit King Corco enjoyed from his time in Arcavia, nothing more. In fact, I hear that it is even cultivated in Chutwa's north-west as well. For most, its taste is exceedingly sour, so many would not enjoy the flavor. However, this official can leave a few saplings for Lord Betucio. This way, lord can try them himself. Since the climate on the northern coast of Yakuallpa should be similar to the one found here, I am sure they would grow well.”

Of course, Brym would never tell Betucio how the lemon was key to their secure journeys across the open seas, how drinking lemon water would prevent the sailor's plague. No matter how good their relationship was, for now Lord Betucio was still the enemy.

“In that case, I have to thank official Brym for his gracious gift.” Even though Betucio's words were polite, Brym could see in his sad frown the lord's understanding. Betucio was a smart man after all. He must have known well that the merchant failed to tell even half the truth. With a sigh, the governor stared out into the distance, towards the mountains in the west. “Truly, from my deepest heart, I hope that this schism would end soon. Like the Triquetra itself, Medala should unite once more, to face our outside threat together.”

“As a man born in Arcavia, a continent split into smaller, warring kingdoms, I can attest that constant struggle is no fun for anyone.” Brym replied with enthusiasm. “Since our goals seem to align, Lord Betucio should help King Corco pacify the lands.”

Another sigh from Betucio broke Brym's excitement. In his haste, the young merchant had been far too forward. Even worse, the lord's ominous answer hit the merchant like a hammer.

“Official Brym misunderstands. I am not here for a secret alliance, and I have no intention of betraying King Amautu. Not so long as he treats the estates under his care with the respect they deserve. Rather than hint at a coming unification, I hint at a coming storm, even greater than before. In order to face this storm, King Amautu believes it prudent to work in conjunction with King Corco, to the boon of the empire.”

Tightness taking hold of his chest, an anxious Brym did his best to hide his emotions, to little avail. With a tremble in his voice he asked, even though he feared the answer.

“What does Lord Betucio mean?”

Another sigh, before the old lord turned to face the young merchant again. After a few seconds of contemplation, he gave the answer Brym had least wanted to hear.

“By the time I left for the east, Arguna was filled with rumors that King Pacha had left the Silver Palace at last. With his heroic spirit regained, or perhaps with rage in his heart, the King of the Center has come out to recruit an army and wash away his shame with blood."