Eyes focused into the swamp, on the powers of fate before him, Wayra's hands clutched the wood of the watchtower's windowsill. While the bloated wood's moisture seeped into his fingers, so did fear seep into his heart. A heavy breath banished the demons for the moment. At least for now, he was still the master of Harkay. He would have to set an example for the others. “That looks like trouble,” the master said in a calm tone. “Where is our messenger?”

“Still not back,” a voice behind him turned somersaults. “What do we do about this?”

Wayra eyes met with the ocean of enemies. The red of their armors marked them as warriors, men of real power. Up until now he hadn't known there were this many warriors in Sachay. Above the troops flew banners in colors he had never seen in his life. Smoke and drums spoke of the imminent attack. All day their ears and noses had been filled with the sounds of war, and it had already drained the defenders of their wills. In front of this force, their little commoner uprising would be powerless, as they had always been. Rather than deal with the army straight out of fantasy, he would focus on more manageable tasks.

“What about Governor Mayu?”

“No, Wayra. No message from the other lords either.” Again his closest friend squeaked. In truth, the lord wanted to do the same.

“Damn.” His fist slammed into windowsill and sent a rain of droplets to the ground. “what are those lords doing? Didn't they say they'd support us against Saniya? They can't just leave us out to rot!”

For a while his friend paused, intimidated by Wayra's anger. This was an unusual look for the new lord. After all, they hadn't made him leader because he was the angriest among them.

“Maybe they have been delayed due to the pressure from Saniya's new king?” his friend stuttered out after a short delay.

“Bastard!” he shouted again, eyes jutted out towards the vicious king's armies. “Those noble beasts must be laughing as they watch us squeal!”

“You think the other lords lured us into the city on purpose,” the voice whispered behind him. Even though he couldn't control his emotions, Nawy was a clever guy. Of course he'd understand his friend's meaning right away.

“What else? Lure the dumb commoners into the swamp and have them build their own damn prison around themselves. Then the lords can come and wipe us out at their leisure! To them, this isn't anything more than a game.” A bitter taste was stuck in his mouth, gall collected from years of grief.

“But what choice did we have?” his friend asked.

A silent nod stood vigil to their dead dreams. In truth, the people of Saniya didn't have any choice at all. From birth, the commoners were doomed to live an irrelevant existence in the shadows of the great lords. When the old lords had told his parents to develop the land in a hostile swamp, they had been forced to obey. When Lord Sawo had decided on their exorbitant taxes, he had been forced to obey. And when outside lords had sent messengers to incite a revolt, he had been forced to obey as well. There was no place in Medala for a disloyal servant.

“What's going on with the king's messenger?” At last, the lord of Harkay looked back, to turn the voice back into his assistant and friend. For a bit, Nawy fidgeted, while Wayra waited.

“The man is still unharmed,” his assistant said at last, his voice much firmer. Wayra had been told that his eyes had that effect on people. They would have to work overtime today. “Even if we wanted to injure him, most in the city don't have the courage to attack a warrior. As the man is a cultivator, we would need more than a few terrified farmers to deal with him.”

“The warriors die just the same as we do, never forget that,” Wayra said, as he suppressed the shake in his voice. If the lords wouldn't play along, he'd have to find another way out. “No amount of force will make them more than human. So what if they're a bit strong? We have walls, and we still have weapons too. For our city we have cut down all the trees two day's march away. How will these warriors ever climb our walls?”

His smile hiding his dread, Wayra looked back across the wall.

“If we don't fight now, we will die without a whimper. But if we stand together, we can still hold out here! We can make every step into our city a pain for them, a thousand thousand ants gnawing at their feet. We sell our hide for as much as we can. If only we could delay them a few days, we will not only show our people that the warriors are mortals too. We will also show this king how expensive our town will be. With that basis, we can at least bargain for our lives.”

“Bu-, but Wayra, wouldn't that make the lords only more angry?” Nawy wrung his hands, but the leader's heart had calmed. By now he had gotten over his fear, only focused on what he could do, rather than what might be done to him.

“So what? They already wanna rot us out. How much worse could it get?”

“You do not know the horrors of those 'nobles'.” Nawy's eyes quivered like his hands. “Wayra, have you never heard of the hobbies of the lords? It is said that some lords have made a sport out of the murder of common folk. They will have competitions like this: 'Who can kill their farmers in the most gruesome way?' To prove their might, some have built machines with a thousand blades, ready to skin us. Others will resort to flails, hot coals or machines to rip us in half. There has even been rumor of some lord who would stick his servants into a bronze barrel. Once inside, he would heat his contraption until the poor servants melt like tin over fire. I heard these lords bring their instruments with them on campaign, to still their insatiable lust for blood in between battles.”

“Don't mention this nonsense outside!” Wayra shouted. He wouldn't have his friend ruin their morale even further. “Just look at their army! Where are those instruments?” he asked, and looked back into the swamp. “If this were true, the lords would long... have...”

As he saw the horrific sight on the horizon, Wayra's words slurred, until they stuck in the back of his throat. At some point during their talks, the army of southern lords had brought several peculiar contraptions to the front. They looked like elongated bronze barrels, put on wheels for easy transportation. Torchbearers were stationed right behind them, no doubt ready to burn the uncouth peasants to a crisp!

“Eek!” an entirely unmanly shriek escaped his right-hand man. Still, the leader had no time to worry about his friend's image. Rather, he was busy with his own fears. At least, their self-inflicted paralysis wouldn't last long.

As Wayra's eyes flitted across the swamp, he saw the torchbearers light their barrels. A heavy boom alleviated their terrors, and replaced them with new ones. The cargo of the barrels was unleashed on their 'free city' of Harkay, and tore apart their flimsy walls like an axe through a paper door.

Even though his mouth was as dry as a bag of old rice, even though he was frozen in shock, Wayra couldn't deny: He was glad these were only siege weapons.

“Nawy,” he wheezed, as he stared at the holes burst into their front gate.

“Yeah, boss.”

“Release the king's messenger. Tell them we accept their proposal for negotiations.”

“Yeah, boss.”

Without any life in his eyes or his voice, Nawy turned and puppeteered his body out of the room.

When Wayra was about to regain his composure, the sun had already set, and he found himself opposed to the torch-lit figure of a tall man of shoulder-length hair. Though it was a common brown, it's gloss, like precious amber, proved the man's noble background. Although the noble was already tall, the men around him were veritable giants. Even so, the six men showed a level of deference and posture that could only mean a single thing:

“This master greets the king,” the leader of Harkay said.

Not only was he smallest among the visitors, the king of the south also retained a harmless smile on his face, as if he had come for a chat among friends. Even so, a single gesture showed his regality. One wave from the king's hands silenced the room. Even the flames around them seemed to calm to King Corco's majesty.

“You're a master, are you?” the king smirked, jokes in his voice.

As if in casual conversation with an old friend, Wayra thought.

“Of course!” he replied, loud enough to convince himself. “Harkay is a free city, and I am its representative. That makes me its master by right.”

“Okay, good.” The king clapped. “You really did a lot of thinking when you put that argument together, did you? Since you rule the city, that makes you the ruler. Really got your legalese down. You didn't read the fine print though.” King Corco leaned forward, and Wayra leaned back in turn. “No land is ever yours if you can't defend it. Didn't you know that? How about you tell my troops about your rightful status and we see how that goes.”

With great difficulty, the master of Harkay swallowed his own terror away. Although he could feel his fear cling to him as a film, he would have to be bold. They were dead either way, so what would they have to lose?

“In that case, can't we just take the king now? Why would the king come into this place, and with only six of his guards to boot? Would the troops outside dare attack us if we control the king?”

For the first time, King Corco showed more than a shallow smile. His eyes widened in what Wayra hoped beyond hope would be fear.

“You're bold.” The king's calm voice destroyed his delusions. “But again, you're not too good with the details. There's six cultivators here, not six people. I'm a cultivator myself, which makes seven. How long do you think the seven of us could hold this single room against your people? We're in a tower along your town wall. All we need to do is rope down the window over there and I'm safe. My soldiers have already breached your walls too. Do you really think you could catch me before they come in and I get out?”

“We could always try to kill you,” Harkay's master growled with his head lowered, even though he knew better. Not only would they fail, the commoners of Harkay would never dare attack a king.

“And you would have a very tiny chance at success.” The king shrugged. “Still, it's not impossible.”

Surprised, Wayra watched the king put one leg over the other. How could a ruler admit to his own danger?

“So, do you know why I would take that kind of risk, just to talk to you?”

Unable to even speak, Wayra only shook his head.

“Then I will tell you, my good friend. You might have guessed already, but we didn't assemble the warriors of the south just to deal with a few insurgents. Our goals lie farther, in the east. Using time, energy and ammo on you is, frankly, a waste.”

For a moment Wayra's mouth opened, but he could see the king's grin widen, so he held back. Even he knew that the king was right. Without their walls, they were but rabbits before snakes. With a little wink, King Corco continued.

“Also, since we'll enter hostile land beyond this region, this place is our last reasonable supply point. But only if we don't burn it to the ground. A peaceful takeover is more beneficial to us.”

“You wish to use Harkay in your military operation,” Wayra's frown soured his voice. They wouldn't have a choice in the matter, he knew that as well.

“It's not only temporary though. Your town be needed far beyond this campaign. Isn't that nice? That means you're worth more alive than dead.” Still the king grinned, and stared out the back window, into their free city.

“Do you even understand how nicely your little town lies on the map? There's a reason Mayu decided to have Harkay built here.”

As the image of the foppish Governor of the South entered his mind, Wayra's frown deepened.

“Who?” Never would he admit to any conspiracy against Saniya.

“Yeah, right,” the king sneered. “Mayu's my cousin, you know? You really think he's gonna protect you now that I've replaced Sawo as Lord of Saniya? Your benefactor sold you out as soon as I took over.”

There it was again, the same fear he had felt towards the fake torture devices. This time however, it was no illusion. Like a cat in front of a mouse, the king seemed to enjoy his suffering.

“Anyways, Mayu's a bit overzealous sometimes, but at least he's got brains. Your little town is placed right in between the two major rivers. In fact, you're pretty much one day's solid march away from either one, right in the middle. If this town ever got fortified and big enough, you could take control of all the land in between the two rivers, and then the surrounding estates could share it among them.”

Again Wayra's eyes grew. By now all color had drained from his face, as he began to understand just how naive, how powerless they had really been.

“What? You didn't think Mayu only wanted to help out the oppressed, did you? In that case, you might be a lot less useful than I thought.” Again the king winked, but to Wayra the casual performance looked like the taunt of an old monster from the stories. “But in this case, your trouble is also your good fortune. Because through the great rivers will flow an infinite stream of resources, all the way to Saniya. What do you think, wouldn't it be useful to have a little town here, both to secure the waterways, and to do some pre-assembly for my industry?”

At last king leaned back again, into the exact posture he had shown at the start of their negotiations. Nothing had changed about King Corco, yet now Wayra felt trapped, more powerless than ever.

“So here's my offer: Swear loyalty, sign a little contract, and in return I'll build you a canal to end all canals.”

The nod was automatic. As always, the commoner had no choice.