They came to a bridge made of rotten wood, vines, and dried clay that connected two rocky cliffs. The top part of the railing was covered in thick leaves woven together, to protect the shabby construction from the elements. Gregor had mentioned that it would rain each day, a sudden downpour that wouldn’t last that long. Even with the cover, he knew the bridge would need rebuilding every few seasons. Back home in Venocia, bridges were built sturdy out of stone so that, even if he tried, he couldn’t damage it without the proper tools. Even then, it would be a time-consuming task.

After the captain and the guides from The Killian crossed, Augustus approached it. He inspected the dirt railing and poked at it aggressively. Small bits of clay fell from his contact, the particles falling through gaps of the moss-covered logs. Over the side, he saw the stream flowing a few stories distance below and felt his stomach become unsettled.

“Don’t worry, you’re much lighter than the others,” said Heratio from behind. “Just don’t look down, Master Augustus.”

Augustus didn’t respond. He just turned and pushed himself forward. The bridge creaked with each of his and Heratio's footsteps, who kept himself close.

“You have my permission to widen the distance between us,” said Augustus without turning his head. He kept his eye line at the horizon, and his face pointed forward at the end of the bridge. His heart sank, bit by bit, as the wood below him bent with an unexpected elasticity. Then sprung back, causing the bridge to feel ever more unstable.

“As you wish,” responded Heratio. He stood sentry for a moment, before continuing some distance back.

When Augustus finally made it to stable ground, he felt a sense of relief, that he hid behind a stoic face. He took quick glances at the faces of the men around him, searching for disappointment and pity, but found none.

After the bridge, they continued down the path. “We’re close,” said Gregor. “You can hear them.”

The sound of shouts echoed through the trees faintly, the voices being muffled by their reflection against the stones and wood and dirt. The words were incomprehensible. They were the words of the natives. “Gregor, can you understand their language?”

“Afraid not, sir,” said Gregor as he glanced around himself, taking in his surroundings. “None of us from The Killian can speak their language much. We tried to learn by reading through the notes that were brought back to the boat, but it’s difficult. The ones who can speak their language are the ones who’ve spent most of their time at the basecamp, immersing themselves among the natives. Look, there!”

Gregor pointed into the trees at a boy. It was a native. He had a deep brown skin tone and bushy black hair, dressed in a loincloth and not much else. The boy was slender, unnaturally so, with the sunken face you’d find on a beggar. As Augustus looked into the jungle more carefully he spotted more and more young native boys, dressed the same, looking just as starved. Despite looking sickly they moved with agility, running up to the line of explorers and shouting things in their foreign language.

One of them ran right up to Augustus and walked beside him. The boy outstretched his hand and grabbed into Augustus’ sleeve playfully, rubbing the material. Augustus used the opportunity to get a more detailed look at him. If Augustus had to guess, the boy was aged nine or ten, then others seemed to have a similar age. He had grey eyes and his skin had scarring on his back and limbs. Did they all have that scarring? He also wore primitive jewelry, strings with wooden beads were wrapped around his wrists and neck. He wore no footwear, but moved comfortably stepping among the twigs and pebbles gracefully. After a moment, the boy tired of the novelty that Augustus’ shirt seemed to occupy and retreated to a more comfortable distance.

They showed no aggression. They were playful, balancing on fallen logs, grabbing sticks and smacking them against trees as they ran past them, shouting cheerfully to one another while pointing at the line of overburdened hikers.

Each group walked along with each other for a short while, until the basecamp appeared. Set in an area where the brush thinned significantly, were the expected tents explorers would use, but also makeshift huts of amateurish construction. The buildings, if one would call them that, were made of wood logs strung together, the bark still unstripped from the logs and showed signs of rot. They had uneven corners and gaps in the walls likely causing them to be infested with bugs. The roof used large interwoven leaves. All the structures, tents and huts, surrounded a central area containing tables, chairs, and a large fire pit, under a tarp used to protect against rain.

Out of the largest hut came the one person Augustus recognized amongst The Killian's crew, Captain Marcus Dayton. He was a man of small stature but was muscular enough it gave him a wide appearance. Dressed in only his brown pants, he showed off his hairy chest and forearms, and the tan lines earned from this part of the world's harsh sun. He had a burly beard and thick hair that was brown with patches of grey. He lifted his arm and waved at the visitors, then went back inside to shortly thereafter reemerge again wearing a white loose-fitting tunic.

Augustus watched as Yander, the furthest forward of their party, approached and greeted Marcus. Marcus appeared happy and welcoming at first until Yander motioned back to Augustus, then a glint of confusion crossed his face, but only for a second. Most wouldn’t have had the time to notice, but Augustus had intentionally watched carefully. After that fleeting moment, he displayed an even larger smile than earlier as he enthusiastically waved Augustus over.

As Augustus made his last few steps of approach, Marcus became solemn and bent down on a single knee, his arms crossed against his chest, a sign of reverence. It was an overly formal show of respect, one that Augustus hadn’t expected. Then when Augustus stood directly in front of him, he stood up with a friendly smile and ruffled Augustus' curly hair.

“Augustus, my boy. How long has it been? You’ve grown quite a bit,” said Marcus.

It was far too familiar, especially after the kneeling. A jarring transition that Augustus wasn’t prepared for. Augustus stepped back.

“I do not know how you speak to my brother, but that is not how one should speak to a Castellian. And I am not your boy.” Augustus gave Marcus a sharp look and watched his reaction.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. Marcus looked to Yander for aid, but Yander just shrugged. “I guess I was just expecting Master Giovannus to be arriving instead. I overstepped my place.”

“You have apologized, and it has been forgotten. Let us move forward. Is there anything urgent that you need to attend to? I know we’ve arrived unannounced.”

“No.”

“Then I would like to learn about what has transpired here over the past two years. A man on The Killian told me some things, but I would prefer to hear it directly from your mouth.”

“I would be glad to tell you all I know. But first, Yander should help his men construct their camp, and issue their standing orders. Then after I will have you both sit with me.”

“There is no need for that,” responded Yander with a neutral face and tone. “My men know how to set up their camp. Also, it would be better for me to hear what you have to say before giving my orders to my men.”

“Very well.” Marcus raised his arm toward the front door of the hut he had come from. A gesture of invitation.

“Heratio, you may stand guard out here while we talk.” Heratio nodded his compliance.

Augustus entered and immediately felt relief in the cooler air. But he could taste on his tongue the stench caused by the dampness inside, the smell of mold and rotting wood. Marcus quickly opened up the windows, letting in the fresh air and lighting up the dim interior.

A table and chairs in the middle of the room were surrounded by a disorderly mess, linen, and bags haphazardly strewn on the floor. Along the walls were the amenities, a large bucket of clean water, a wood-burning stove, a stuffed mattress raised off the ground, and cupboards and shelving. Augustus noted he had certainly made himself at home here, but he wasn’t much of a home keeper. But then again, that’s what servants were for, and Marcus, unfortunately, hadn’t brought any with him.

They sat at the table. Augustus and Yander on one side, Marcus on the other.

“Where to start,” began Augustus. “Let’s start with the most important first. What trade goods will we be taking back to Venocia?”

Marcus seemed all too happy to answer that question, but he paused before he spoke and considered things for a moment. “I am happy to answer that, I truly am. But, with all due respect to you and your family, you are here as an observer. This should be, first and foremost, a discussion between me and Captain Yander. I will treat you with the highest of courtesy, and listen to your advice should you have any, I assure you. So, please refrain from getting ahead of yourself.”

“I understand. Still, answer the question,” said Augustus, making sure to have a forceful tone.

A conflicted look appeared on Marcus’ face. Augustus knew what thoughts raced through his mind. He was deciding whether to press the issue or just move on. In the end, he decided to just answer the question.

Marcus stood up and went over to the stove, starting the flame with his flint and tinder. “Would you two like some tea? There’s a new spice here you should try, the natives call it kisum. Although having it in a tea isn’t the most appetizing way to experience it, it’s the easiest way to see how distinctive the flavours are.”

He took some of the clean water from the bucket and put it in a kettle and placed it on the stovetop.

“That will take some time. I’m not sure how well the kisum will sell, you two would be the better judge of that. Other than that there is a gem here that we’ve tried to mine, but without the proper tool we’ve made little progress, and finally there are the pelts. The pelts are of high quality and will be distinct from those available in Venocia. We have accumulated a large stockpile, enough that their sale should pay for the entire expedition.” Marcus smiled and looked directly into Augustus’ eyes. “So, I think you’ll agree, the expedition has been a marvelous success.”

Augustus breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if a weight was lifted off his chest. It had been his biggest worry for over a month now that the entire expedition would be unprofitable. If that had happened, not only would Augustus have lost out on a significant portion of his personal wealth, but it would look unfavourably to the family.

“We brought tools to help with mining,” said Yander. “I imagine taking the pelts down from the basecamp will take a few days. Perhaps we could take a few additional days to see how much we can unearth before we head back to Venocia.”

Augustus nodded. “A large profit would be better than a modest one. I’d rather not rely on that spice for our profit margin.”

“You won’t need the extra days. Master Augustus, I’m sure you have matters to attend to back in Venocia and I wouldn’t want to keep you from them. If you have the tools, I have plenty of hands for the labour. I can have the people here, the Aluheyan people, do the mining while your men transport the pelts.”

“Really? They are that cooperative?” Asked Augustus.

“Yes. They will need some training but, despite judging from their clothing and homes, they are intelligent enough that they will learn it quickly.”

Augustus looked over to Yander who looked equally baffled. “I think what Master Augustus meant was that we had heard there was some trouble between you and natives. Perhaps you could explain what happened here to cure us of our confusion.”

“Yes and please start at the beginning.”

He pondered what to say for a moment before starting. “Your father, my dear lifelong friend, sent me to this island on short notice. The crew and ship were ready, and I had to fill in as captain because of some illness, I was told. I did my duty without a word of reluctance, that is how unshakable my loyalty–”

“By beginning I meant to start when you arrived at the island.”

“My apologies. Once we arrived we found the Aluheyan village without trouble. We set up camp near them and began the process of learning to communicate. The troubles began a few weeks after we arrived. They started dying of a plague and then things… Well, things got quite heated. They blamed the plague on us, and claimed it was our doing.” Marcus paused at the sound of the kettle rattling.

He stood up and prepared the tea, filling three cups with a brown powder then pouring the boiled water, then placing the cups in front of each of them.

“Here it is, the kisum tea,” said Marcus. “A bit too hot for me to take the first sip so I’ll just continue. I thought of leaving, of saying damn to that mess, but I thought of my duty to your family. So, I set to work to resolve the issue in our favour. You see if we left we would have cemented in their minds the idea that we were the ones to blame. In their minds, they would have thought of us as some kind of demons and then trade might have become impossible forever. I tried to convince them it wasn’t our fault, that we had no ill intentions. But at the time, my skill with their language was crude. They just got angry. Eventually, they put a spear to my neck and walked me out of the village.”

Marcus finally took a large sip of the kisum tea, an obvious tactic to delay continuing. With the first sip taken, Augustus and Yander could taste the tea themselves. It was distinct. A strong flavour filled Augustus’ nostrils. His eyes watered and he coughed a few times in response to the irritation.

“That is a powerful spice,” said Yander, having a similar reaction to Augustus.

Marcus laughed. “It takes some getting used to. My men have become fond of it. It’s better to start with less, just seasoning some cuts of meat, but for our immediate purposes I just wanted to illustrate its uniqueness.”

“It is definitely unique,” said Augustus with a smile even though he was still recovering. “I know of no spice in Venocia like it. There is always a market for a distinct flavour. But, let’s not lose focus. Please continue.”

With reluctance, Marcus continued. “Two paths lay before me. To give up and head back to Venocia with this mission being a failure, or to take action and turn adversity into an opportunity! I chose the latter, and my men got their bows ready. We killed a few from a distance, only enough for them to understand what we could do. If they had enough organization, I’m sure they could have overwhelmed us easily through their sheer numbers. But many of them, mainly their young and their old, had died from the plague and even more still were bedridden. After that, my men and I went into the village and picked out a few dozen of the young boys to separate from the village. We worked to turn them to our side, and now they are loyal to us. They help us enforce our will on the natives and are the reason why the people of the village will work for us.”

Augustus raised his eyebrow. “Why are they loyal? If they were so quick to turn against their people how can we possibly trust them?”

“I am a student of the way people think, of how they are guided by their motivations, and how they react to fear. The key was to separate them from the village. Once they were on their own, the balance of strength was clearly on our side. We starved them then ordered them to attack a couple of the villagers. Their fear compelled them to obey. After that, we gave them food and a clean comfy place to sleep. One thing I’ve learned is that people will never view themselves as evil. It’s a conflict that a mind simply won’t tolerate. We forced them to perform an act their culture viewed as corrupt. A vivid act they committed with their own hands.

“So what do people do when they commit an immoral act? They create a perspective in which the act isn’t immoral. ‘I only stole because he deserved to be stolen from,’ I’ve heard used as a ridiculous defense. The boys were faced with the same dilemma. The boys had done an action they should have viewed as evil but refusing to obey us in the future would lead to hardships and starvation. On the other hand, obeying would lead to comfort and food. It laid the groundwork for them to readily believe the truth we three here already know, that we were only here to help.”

As Augustus listened he steeled his face, wearing a mask that kept his emotions hidden. “To be honest with you, I find this all displeasing. It leaves a bitter taste on my tongue that does not pair well with this tea,” he said as he drained the last of the tea from his cup in a big gulp.

“You think what I did was immoral?” Marcus' held a stoic expression that matched Augustus’.

“Yes, I do. But I also recognize how removed I am from where you were when you made those decisions,” said Augustus.

“When I told those boys that we would help the village, I wasn’t lying. They live in makeshift huts, have almost no medicines, and their society's structure is horrendous. We have worked to civilize them and improve their quality of life. Before we came here if there was disagreement between one of those boys and one of the elders of the village, the elders would have free reign to dole out their punishment. They would have the boys beaten if they caught the attention of one of the young girls one of the elders liked. It was a sort of tyranny. There was no legal system before we arrived. Do you know what they would do? They'd build a raft and place the offender on it and send them off to sea, telling them they weren't welcome anymore."

Augustus let out an exasperated sigh. "Let's not speak anymore of this."

He stood up, causing the other two, of lower standing, to stand up in response.

"Yes, you need not worry too much about the details. In a few days, you'll be heading back to Venocia, a richer man than when you left and all these complications will be but a memory. I will make sure when the next of your family's vessels arrives it will be even more profitable," said Marcus while gesturing his two guests through the tent’s entrance and leading them out.

They left Marcus, walking with Heratio in step towards where the crew was setting up camp.

“Yander, I am discomforted by what Marcus had to say.”

Yander nodded. “I feel the same.”

“I think the situation here is tenuous. I would like your men to stay armed and for you to set up a night's watch,” said Augustus in almost a whisper. Marcus was nowhere near, but still, he didn’t wish for it to reach the wrong ears.

“I shall have it done.”

“And when you send the men back with the pelts, have them bring back Castor and bring my chest filled with my legal documents. Castor will know what one that is... and the letters for the crew of The Killian. I’ll definitely need those letters.” Now that Augustus had heard Marcus’ words without the interference of Castor, he wanted the old man’s advice.

“Certainly. I’ll have the men finish setting up camp then they will distribute the mining equipment. The first trek back to The Scarlet Wind will be tomorrow morning.”