In the center of Lohaan, the hot air was lowered to a simmering chill as the moon took the place of the sun. It was like most days in Ajaad, yet this time the moon wouldn’t only drown out the colors of the city, but the remnants from the Festival of Bright Colors too. The bolts of bright colors —blue, red, orange, yellow and green— would have to dim for the night before jolting back to life in the early morning.

“So Lohaan was able to take Gahkhpur back, huh?” spoke the young man. Apparently this years festivities were much more vivid compared to the past 20 just because of that one event. “Poor Suhliq… at least I made money off of him though.”

He stopped and gave himself a good stretch, pulling at his muscles and hearing the little crackles jump to his ear. The night was exceptionally calm, too quiet for a city as large as this one. Usually that was a bad omen, but perhaps it was a reflection of The Lord’s creation above.

“A full moon, huh?” He brought to two of his hands together in a prayer. “They say the youngest of the Gahkhars was the one who took it back. How fitting. It’s like he were the Mahabsa—

“Hey! You!”

Huh? His body stiffened, jerking around to meet the voice. “Yes?”

Footsteps crept into a silence and half a face revealed itself from the alleys shadow.

“Are you the merchant Mayur?”

Mayur froze. I never told anyone besides my clients my name. Mayur stepped back. “Yes…”

“The one from Asmaan?” The man’s figure was in full view of the moon, his muscular appearance frightening Mayur more.

“Y… yes…”

The man smiled. “Ah, perfect.” With each step the man took, it frightened Mayur to take another one back.

A slow tingle rang right under his skin. Those eyes… Mayur scratched his neck. Those are the eyes of a… of a killer!

His heart kicked into a mad race. Turning around he broke into a mad rush —and close behind him were the elephant steps of that man.

I need to get out! Past this alleyway and onto the streets!

“Don’t run now.”

Mayur braked, hoping to catch his balance.

He gazed ahead.

A man —probably as musclar as the one behind Mayur— slowly turned the corner.

“I thought Asmaani merchants never ran from people?”

Tha… that came from behind me!

He turned.

The man recoiled his fist. “We’ve got a proposal for you.”

And slugged him across the face.

“Aah!”

Mayur slid across the ground, his sensitive cheek feeling the cold stone ground. The pain seared with no rest, feeling like a great fire letting loose —a flaring and vivid one.

The footsteps crept closer.

Mayur closed his eyes.

“Aaaah!” A kick to the lower back forced his stomach to the stone. “Stop! I beg y—

Another kick landed on the side of his stomach, forcing the back of his head to meet the wall. He could feel the tiny bugs crawl onto his exposed skin, making the already sensitive skin flare again and again.

“Stop! I’ll do anything!” He shouted, waving his arm in front of his face.

“You’ll do anything?” asked the man. Mayur opened his eyes and a chill ran down his legs.

Their smiles were devilish.

“Leave Lohaan before next nightfall,” the man said. “And never come back.”

“And if you do come back,” the other man added. “You’ll be killed. We are only giving you this one chance because you come from a family of great merchants.” The man crouched, his eyes pointing like two daggers fixed at Mayur’s throat.

“I thought all Lo… Lohaanis had honor… what happened for th… the both of you to forsake your own people?” His voice was already struggling, having to deal with the pain on his cheek and the blood that ran out his mouth.

The men turned to one another and laughed. Their laughs were wicked, like crows cawing into the midnight sky.

“Us? Forsake our people?”

“He really is a fool brother!”

Mayur closed his eyes. This pain… it’s only getting wor—

Another kick landed Mayur’s gut.

Aah! This time he regurgitated the meal he had in the bar. Blast them!

“Our honor was left in the blood spilled.” Their glares were like those of tigers. “Where was Asmaan when the war happened? Where was your honor!”

Another kick landed in the gut.

Mayur grit his teeth, trying to bear with the pain and dry throat. One more and I’m done….

The man crouched. “So, do you accept our proposal? Honorless outsider?”

“Because if you don’t,” added the other. “We can always just kill you right here.”

A faint chill blew through the corridor, carressing Mayur’s hair that would’be normally been under a western merchant cap.

Blast Me! Mayur gulped, though his throat was too dry. He closed his eyes shut. What have I done to deserve the wrath of these men? Blast me! I should’ve brought my guards! I’m screw—

A rock skipped from the nearby shadows, making a sharp noise that fell into complete silence a few moments later. Mayur galanced to the side, watching as the men stepped back and turn their gaze towards the shadows.

“Who’s there!” Shouted one of the men.

Something ripped through the air.

A cry rang out. A string of blood followed. “Aaah! The bastard!”

Mayur glanced up.

An arrow dug into the man’s side.

Oh god. Mayur closed his eyes shut, fearful that the sight would make him barth once more.

“Who are you!” one of the men screeched. “Identify yourself!”

“Does it matter?” spoke the voice. “Get away from the Asmaani merchant! Now!”

“Damnit! Who are you employed by!”

“Does it matter?” he said again. “But I know the merchant families hired you.”

“It hurts brother…”

“Fuck it. Let’s go,” said the man. “He’s got a bloody bow, who knows what else he has.”

“Fine.” The voice then turned to Mayur. “And you… merchant. You better… leave this country… or we will kill you!”

With that he could hear the men withdraw slowly, their footsteps dissipating into the silence.

Hurried steps approached him. “Come friend.” Spoke the man, his footsteps creeping closer to Mayur. “We’ve got to get you to someplace safe.”

“Lord Gahkhar is willing to pay 2 silver a month to each man and woman who’s willing to serve Lohaan. If they die on the line of duty or retire, then themselves, or any of their widows or their parents are allowed 20 coppers a month for the rest of their lives.”

A sweat streamed down his cheek. If last week wasn’t bad enough, this week was worse. The pre-monsoon weather was scathing to the point whee even the ground had signs of cracking and weakness. Thank the Creator, at least there is a tree in the middle to give shade from this heat. Meethi glanced at the assembled crowd spanning the entire village square.

It seemed a few had some reservations.

“I’ve got a question,” asked an old woman at the front.

Meethi turned. “Yes?”

“You said both men and women. Are women also allowed this pension?”

“Yes. Lord Gahkhar deferred to the religous texts and sought the advice of the Custodian of the Grand Temple. Since men and women both have a soul composed of the same essence, they are demanded equal treatment as a result.”

“Where’s the proof!” shouted a man. “How can a woman —obviously weaker than a man— be allowed to fight? They should be tending to the farms and helping with the cloth washing! Why should they be allowed to fight on the fields when they have families to feed! How can they possibly fight against men, let alone those barbaric Afraaris?”

Parts of the crowd shouted their agreement and a few of the women scoffed too, raising their fingers and reprimanding them.

A woman rose up. “How dare you! All you do is sit and eat and complain, yet I have to sit back and do all the housework?” She spat at the ground. “I’m more Lohaani than you!”

Well, it’s a good thing Lord Gahkhar knew this sort of thing was coming. Meethi glanced at the local priest, who quickly calmed the growingly dissident crowd, and Meethi grabbed the Custodian’s letter from his pocket bag.

“I, Harmindir, Custodian of the Grand Temple in Surajpur, have determined that women are of the same status as a man. This can be determined if one looks at our history. The First Teacher had always preached that everyone had the same soul at birth, the only way it could ever become different is if an individual strode away from the righteous path. Furthermore, if we examine the history of the Fifth’s campaigns against the Simbaqs, we can determine that he never discriminated against women and even a significant portion of his army was composed of women initiated in the faith. Finally, it was a woman who convinced 300 men to fight to the death rather than desert their land and faith. As a result, women have and will continue to play a central role to the Sudhist and Lohaani struggle.”

Meethi gave the letter to the local Sudhist priest.

“It’s a genuine seal from the Custodian.”

Meethi turned to the rambling crowd.

“If anyone rejects the determination of the Custodian,” began Meethi, silencing the crowds murmurs. “Then you are not only going against the Creator, but Lord Gahkhar himself.”

The priest gave the letter back.

“Any objections?”

He saw a few men gulping down their saliva and others lowering their gaze. But besides that, nobody objected.

“Good.” He tucked the letter back into his bag. “These times are hard friends. We don’t have enough men to muster up a defense, which is why we need any woman who is willing to help in this struggle. Obviously, we know that women have limitations and there is a genuine fear that the Afraaris can commit the same heinous acts like they did 20 years ago, but that’s the reasoon why Lord Gahkhar is opening enlistment. If you do join, you’ll not only have a wage, but also skills to defend yourselves and impart to others.”

The voice of summer rang from nearby, the sound from the nearbby cicada giving Meethi the focus to stare the crowd in the eyes despite the worsening weather. He could see their silent nodding, accepting the facts that he and Lord Gahkhar laid out for them.

“Good. Lord Gahkhar also wishes for a registry of the people living in this village, from the elderly to the newborn. He wishes only for the name, gender, marital status and age. Nothing more.”

“And for what?” asked the elderly village leader. “What do we get in return for proviidng such information?”

He’s pretty blunt for his age. I’ll give him that. Meethi smiled.

He turned and gestured towards his two warriors standing guard by the carriage. One placed a wooden board to act as a ramp. They then scaled onto the carriage.

“What is that… screeching noise?” asked the elder. Indeed, incessant screeching came from the shadows hidden in the carriage, but within moments a piece of hardware was lowered to the cracked dirt. It consisted of a wooden frame and an iron piece at the bottom, presumably for clearing the soil to create gaps for planting crops.

“What… what is this?” The elderly man said, confused. “It looks like a… a plough.”

“That’s because it is,” answered Meethi. “Lord Gahkhar refers to it as the Small Plough.”

A few children ran up to the device to give it a good look, twisting and turning to capture every last detail.

“The Small Plough?” one of the children asked. “There’s nothing small about this at all. It’s larger than what papa uses.”

Meethi chuckled. “Small is the last name of the man who invented it.”

“Who’d name themselves after a size?”

“Yah and the smallest size too?”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lord Gahkhar said he knew the man one way or the other.”

An old man stepped forward.

“Why is the iron so curved?”

“Lord Gahkhar had it designed using mathematics rather than simple trial and error.”

The elder stepped back, probing the device from a far. “Can this really help us with farming?”

“Yes. Lord Gahkhar also has something else that might help. It’s called fertilizer.”

“Fertilizer? What does that do?”

“It makes the crops grow faster. You just need to add a little. Too much and the plant dies from fast growth and insufficient water supply. That’s what Lord Gahkhar said.”

“I see…”

Meethi waved at his warriors, signaling them to bring the machinery back. “Giving you these materials is conditional upon placing the names of the entire village into the registry. My men are bringing the registry now. Once everyone has written their information, we’ll have the equipment delivered after the monsoon season. There’ll also be warriors who’ll begin enlisting new recruits to be brought back to Gahkhpur.”

“But, how would we defend ourselves from an Afraari attack?”

“Do not worry, we will be deploying a force of trained men to handle the village garrison. We don’t want irregulars to die due to a lack of experience, now do we?”

The elder gulped, then made a suppressed frown. “Understood.” He then brought his hands together. “Thank you for coming here, sire. If a situation arises in the future, you can always rely on the men and women of this village. I swear it on my honor.”

He wants to curry more favor with us, huh? Meethi reciprocated. “We shall see.”

HAVING MADE HIS WAY BACK TO GAHKHPUR, MEETHI WALKED UP THE STAIRCASE AND ENTERED BHAGAT’S STUDY, FINDING A FAMILIAR SCENE THAT HAD POSSESSED THE ROOM FOR A GOOD THREE WEEKS.

“Damn it! Damn it all!” shouted Bhagat, screeching his chair aside as he walked in an uneasy circle. “Fuck them!”

Meethi raised a brow. “What’s wrong My Lord?” Were there new problems from Oodpur?

“Those fucking lords Meethi!” Bhagat grit his teeth. “They’ve rejected by proposal!”

Meethi took a step back. “They did? Why?”

Bhagat gripped his fists. “They want me to come to Surajpur myself to sign the treaty and then they’ll send their warriors in. Like hell I’ll do that.”

“What? Are you certain?”

“Yes!” Bhagat slammed his fist on his elaborate wooden desk. “Those idiots. Custodian Harmindir tried mediating the council and steer it away from that, but it seems it wasn’t enough.” He let out a few more curse words and then sat back down, his posture sloppy. “The hell do I do now? It’s already the end of Kapila. There’s one more month —no, scratch that— probably a few more weeks before the monsoons arrive. There isn’t much time left Meethi. Faran might have already made his move. If I leave now then our city is scre—

A warrior barged into the room, carrying a wax-sealed letter in-hand. “My Lord, for you.”

He handed the letter to Meethi and closed the study door.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” grumbled Bhagat. Obviously the letters coming to him nowadays weren’t to his tastes. “Lions eating the sun?” Bhagat scoffed. “That’s bold.”

“I believe that’s what the merchants use as a part of their association.”

“The merchant families huh?” Bhagat cracked the seal and unfurled the letter which accompanied a document.

“Huh?” Bhagat placed the document on the desk and gave the letter a classic read. “‘Greetings Lord Bhagat Gahkhar, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Blah blah blah, thanks for the ass-kissi—

Bhagat froze, his words hanging in the air.

“Is there… a problem My Lord?”

“A problem?” Bhagat bore his teeth like a lion trying to fend off against another beast of it’s station. “Yes, there is a problem. Those fucking bastards are the problem!” he yelled, his face reddening with insult. “They want a bribe to overturn their vote!”

Bhagat stood back up and dropped the letter. He then stomped on the letter repeatedly.

Meethi reached his hand out for Bhagat’s arm, trying to rein in his anger. “My lord, you shouldn’t do that wi—

Bhagat stopped, pointing at the now-crumpled letter below. “And what? Thank them for their cordial reception? Thank them for giving me an offer where I lose all rights to the salt mine that’s been in my family’s dominion ever since we first accepted title to Gahkhpur and Oodpur? No! Never!” He spat at the letter. “Fuck them.”

He then returned to his desk and clutched the document. “Those fucking bastards, they were even prepared for a yes from me.” He crumbled the paper up. “Fuck them.”

“My Lord, if you don’t accept their conditions, then how will we fight the Afraaris? The Confederacy doesn’t even consider you a part of their organization!”

“Fuck the Confederation!” shouted Bhagat back, his face reddened with humiliation and resentment.

“Fuck me.” Bhagat poured water from a jug and drank it. “This is a problem,” he said, resting back on his chair and tryign to get a grip on the situation.

“Are we really not going to rely on the Confederacy?”

The chair screeched again as Bhagat turned to gaze the dusk sky, folding his hands in contemplation. “My proposal was for a truce between the lords so that I could get help from both Vhaddawalia and Kahlon without them getting invaded by another lord. Now, it obviously failed.”

Meethi approached the desk, noticing a map of Lohaan drawn on paper. “So we don’t have that assurance, now do we?”

“Nope,” spoke Bhagat. “And I’m sure as hell not going to cede even an inch of my land.”

Bhagat took a deep breath. “I have a gamble, it might not work though so we have to assume we’re going alone in confronting Faran.”

“And what plan is this?”

Bhagat glanced up to Meethi. “We’ll have Dunda lead an army into my land. Kahlon and the Custodian will guarantee that Vhaddawalia isn’t attacked by anyone. Hell, even I’ll throw my guarantee. I hope this’ll stop Dhariwalia or the merchants from attacking him for enough time.”

“But won’t the merchants know? They’ll expect you to answer their letter and sign the document.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Bhagat put a hand to his mouth. For a moment it seemed like the plan would fail in Meethi’s eyes.

But Bhagat uncovered his mouth and got up, facing Meethi with an odd enthusiasm.

“Why are you smiling My Lord?”

Bhagat chuckled. “Get me the man in charge of making paper in this city. I want him to make the exact same paper as this document here. I’ll handle the re—

Again the door slammed open, the same warrior walking in with rushed breaths.

“My Lord…” he handed the letter to Bhagat. “News from before duskfall… to the east.”

Bhagat opened the letter and gave it a diligent read.

“Well,” said Bhagat. “Bad news. Faran is rallying is bannermen.”

“And what? There’s good news with that?”

“Of course Meethi.” Bhagat smiled. “Good news. It seems like everything is progressing much faster than I anticipated.”