“To think it’d take a week to restore order,” said Param, stretching out his legs on the steps of the city square. He glanced at the nakedness around him. There weren’t any decorations, nor children playing with one another, nor any spectacles coming from the markets. There was only blood, dried as it was, it still stained around the marble square.

“Sir!”

Param turned, finding a warrior approaching him from the city prisons just ahead.

“What is it friend?”

“The city is under control now, all the weapons have been seized and all perpetrators have been brought to the prison.”

Param let out a sigh. It had been too long since they entered with assistance from the local Sudhist temple, with the priests emploring Aabna to restore order to Oodpur after days of bloodshed.

Param kicked a toe-sized rock, the friction creating quiet screeches across the pavement.

What had started the killings? Ordinary Sudhists and Kashaaris had teamed-up to kill the Afraari guardsmen and bureaucrats, but afterwards it had escalated into a full-blown massacre of the Haraans.

And that wasn’t even the end of it.

Param cast his gaze towards the eastern quarters. Many low-caste Kashaaris had died.

“This is why ordinary folk shouldn’t hold weapons. Once their anger boils over, justice just becomes perverted.”

He turned to the warrior stationed beside him. “Do you know where Lady Aabna is?”

The man gave a nod, pointing his finger northwards. “The men said she was in the Sudhist temple.”

“I see,” replied Param. “Alright then, I’ll go report this to her myself. Tend to the warriors wounds and ensure the city is kept in lockdown. There’ll be an influx of homeless peoples, the policy now is to patrol the areas sufficiently so that they feel secure. We’ll start building makeshift homes soon.”

“Yes sir!”

Param paced onwards, leaving the bloodied square behind and entering the North section of the city. Hidden in the shade were tiny moulds dug into the Earth filled with dark red blood, a remnant of the clashes. Flanked to his sides were the sandstone family residences, with a few exclusively functioning as a family home and shop. Signs placed beside the sandstone entrance read: “Closed for the day. Do not enter.”

Param sighed, returning his gaze to the path. The air didn’t even smell like the city. Blood mixed with the foul city air made for a more potent concoction instead, forcing Param to breath through his mouth to avoid the crippling stench.

I’m ashamed of my own people. He raised his head, facing the sullied path directly. Instead of helping the low-castes, they simply stood by and watched. Is this what twenty years has done to us? It’s made us complicit?

He grit his teeth, stepping into a tiny pool of blood and catching the droplets onto his legs. Does it really take children to understand the consequences of wanton violence?

Turning the corner, he slowed his pace. Close to the side he noticed a few boys huddling together and using a stained blanket.

Their skin is dark brown and hair a reddish-black. They didn’t seem to be wearing any shirts to keep warm. Taals…

The youngest of the three, probably not even at the age of four, opened his dull eyes just slightly, pulling the blanket to cover his bare skin from the morning chill.

Param passed them, yet stopped short of the next corner.

They’re just kids…

Param turned his head, glancing towards the resignation in their postures. I know that look. He approached them, slowly as not to disturb their rest. Sliding into the pocket bag strung to his belt, he counted six silver coins.

“Hey kid,” Param said quietly, kneeling to meet the eyes of the young child. “Take this.”

He handed the coins to the child, watching as the youth’s eyes brimmed a new. How long had it been since they last ate? Who honestly knew.

The child opened his mouth, but quickly shut it. He then nervously glanced at the coins in his hand, weighing them on his small palm. Was he afraid?

“That moneys for all three of you. When your brothers wake up, you should all first get something to eat. Without food, you’ll all end up dead. Afterwards, I’d say you should all find a better place to sleep, it’s not good out here in the middle of the corridors. If anything, find a place to sleep where the guards are patrolling constantly, it’ll make you feel more safe.”

The child responded with a nod.

“Good.” Param rose back up. “I need to get going now. Stay safe.”

Param walked away and turned the corner.

Today might end up being a shorter day after all.

“Westerner, here!”

A stack of books landed on the ground, the loud thud throwing Avignon off his sleep.

A shadow then towered him, the figure menacing. The man seemed to be a Sudhist based on the bracelet on his right hand and the turban that looked incredibly kept.

“Learn!” He ordered, pointing his finger to the stack beside him.

Avignon glimpsed at the manuscripts and gulped. It had to at least be the size of his military books stacked together. He turned to the guard, brow raised. “Excuse me?”

“Learn!” he shouted, steps turned as he made his way back out. “Somebody will come teach you soon!”

The door then creaked a little open before slamming back shut.

“Bloody hell.” He pulled himself up. They probably spoke in simple words so that they could get it through to him. “At least they’re more hospitable than those damned Afraaris.”

He crossed his legs and picked off the first book at the top of the stack. The cover had an odd childish drawing. A children’s book perhaps?

“They really do want me to learn Lohaani, huh?”

He flipped another one of the books open, noticing a Sudhist letter taking up the whole page. He flipped through all the other pages, realizing it illustrated every detail of the Sudhist script.

“I told you, it was a merchant from Asmaan!” shouted a voice from the room next to him. “That merchant sold me that powder for a large sum! And no! I don’t know his name!”

Well, he’s being interrogated again, isn’t he? Avignon rested his back on the side of the wall and clicked his tongue. If he hadn’t pledged his allegiance to Suhliq, maybe he could’ve avoided the stupidity that unfolded.

Father had always said a leader should always strike with maximal force and overwhelm his opponent. Yet 300 men weren’t enough. On top of that, they managed to take Gahkhpur and Oodpur because there were too few men to guard it. I should’ve ditched Suhliq when I had the chance. Bloody hell.

He then gave the books another good glance. Did the Gahkhar child really want him in his service that badly? That had to be impossible, especially since he had insulted the man.

Any ruler would’ve had him hung immediately, especially since he was a foreigner.

But then why didn’t Bhagat Gahkhar do it?

“Why else would they want me to learn Lohaani?”

He stared at the book in his hands. For now all he could do was follow what they said.

“Bhagat… don’t you think this is a bit… dangerous?”

The pair strolled down the busy intersection, their figures shrouded in their cloaks as they crossed the stained streets of the inner city, passing by the flocking crowds making their way to the markets. They even passed by orators who preached the return of Gahkhpur into the hands of the Gahkhars. Yet in some corners they could hear the murmurs, of whispers of the quiet terror slowly approaching the city, and Meethi knew that was what occupied Bhagat’s mind the majority of the time.

“Relax, nobody knows my first name anyways,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Are… you sure?”

“Yes!” hissed Bhagat, before clearing his throat. “Anyways, the general wares shop should be somewhere around here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

Meethi glanced upwards to get a look at the signs hung ontop of the doors of the sand-bricked buildings, noticing a very obscure one to the far-right.

Meethi pointed. “It’s that one.”

“I see,” Bhagat said. He then began approaching the building, waving his hand. “Let’s go.”

Together they approached the shop.

“This shop seems kinda suspicious, not gonna lie.”

Meethi raised a brow. He still couldn’t get used to the way Bhagat spoke on certain occasions.

“This shop was the only one willing to sell the wares you wished for.”

Bhagat sighed, standing beside the door and leaning against the wall. “Well it can’t be helped then, can it?”

Meethi creaked the door open and entered the dimly-lit building, making sure the shop was safe before letting Bhagat enter. Together they strode around the shop, looking at the shelves of glassware and metal pots. He was more surprised then anything by the amount of care that went into the pristine maintenance of the glassware. Lifting a piece of glass up to a candle, he couldn’t even see a speck of dust inside.

“Wow, there are even flasks and distillation tubes!” Excitement rang in his voice. “We can change the World with this!”

“Oi, what are you both doing in my shop?” hissed a voice from behind them.

Turning around, Meethi saw the short figure standing on the other end of the aisle. It was the same man as yesterday, and it seemed the individual recognized him too.

“It’s you…” the man said, crossing his arms. “What do the two of you want?”

“Ah, my good sir!” began Bhagat. “I’d like all the glassware in this shop.”

The man snorted. “Nice joke.”

“Wait, but I’m not joking though.”

“You do realize I’m not so easily pushed around, right? I’m not willing to sell my treasure unless you pay full price.”

“Well how much does all the glassware cost?”

The man paused, giving the two a suspicious look. “Each piece is four gold coins, which’ll probably be at 320.”

“320, huh?”

“Most of these wares come from Asmaan to begin with, and you would know how much of a hell it is to get anything from there to here.”

“Hmm.”

Bhagat glanced back at the wares.

“Glass…” He brushed his hand against the piece. “Do I really need all of this? It’s just silicon dioxide at the end of the day…”

He then turned back to the store clerk. “I’ll take any pieces of glass that look similar to this thing here, as well as any glass piece with openings at both ends like this one here.”

“That’d be 60 gold coins then.”

“I’ve got one more question to ask if you don’t mind.”

“Yes?”

“You said these wares came from Asmaan. Do you happen to know the name of the Asmaani merchant?”

“Well…” The man didn’t seem all too knowing. “When we made the trade, I was going to ask for his name; however, it seemed like in all his excitement...”

The man scratched the back of his head. “He left without another word.”

“I see…”

“The boy talked quick though… last I heard, he said he’d be making his way to Surajpur.”

“Hmm…” Bhagat turned to Meethi and gave a nod.

Meethi took out a pocket bag form under his belt and, one by one, counted thirty gold coins. “Here you are sir.”

“Consider this the deposit,” added Bhagat. “I’ll have men pick-up the glass wares tomorrow morning, be sure to prepare the glassware so that it doesn’t break so easily. We’ll pay the rest of the money then.”

The man nodded. “I will ensure that the glass doesn’t break.”

“Alright then, take care.”

The pair made their way out the door, substituting the darkness in the building for the blinding light under the sun. Bhagat put an arm over his head.

“That merchant made his way to Surajpur…”

“For all we know, he could be dead. The merchant families are hell-bent on keeping their share of the market after all.”

“Yes, you’re right” admitted Bhagat. “But we’ve got to ensure no one lays a finger on him. After-all he has the things I want, he’s not one of the merchant families goons and I’m willing to pay.”

Bhagat began his walk again in the heartland of the city. The crafting district.

“What is to be done there?”

“What is to be done?” He turned, pulling out rolled papers from his sleeves. “We may as well get all our chores done, should we not? And sides, we need to pursue our reform program quickly and these blueprints will do just that.”