Kaeto’s tent was filled with a seemingly ostentatious amount of books, but they all served a purpose for him. Currently, he was leafing through a copy of ‘The Cult of Lytash: Prophecies and Plots’, a truly remarkable book.

A rustle of canvas behind him made the prince turn in his chair, glancing over his shoulder at the entry flap to his tent. Adarelle stood just inside, head bowed, a book held close to her chest.

“Yes? What is it?” Kaeto asked, frowning at the steward.

Adarelle turned the book in her arms around, showing it to the prince. Kaeto squinted at the page of lines and letters, a ledger he realized, then remembered.

“Is it already time?” he said, tone a bit regretful as he set his book down atop his desk.

Adarelle nodded. “If you’d like to keep to your schedule, my lord prince, then yes, it is time. Should I get the birds ready?”

Kaeto sighed but gave her a half-hearted wave of his hand. “Yes, yes, very well. Have my bird saddled and ready to leave soon. Also, inform the shield of our leaving. He’ll want to send his last student along with us, and I believe this one may hold some potential.”

His steward nodded, backing out of his tent with her head still lowered. He sighed, rising from his chair to riffle through the spars wardrobe he’d brought along.

The prince changed before leaving his tent, selecting a somewhat wrinkled silk shirt and a gray vest. The sun hung low on the western horizon, bathing the scrubland in a faint morning glow.

Almost as soon as he’d stepped foot outside, Kaeto found the four army regulars they were bringing along on this inspection due to reports of elevated rebel activity in the surrounding region.

Kaeto mounted his bird, Djinna, with ease. The tawny moa was a gentle beast, had she had been since birth. The prince stroked the bird’s neck tenderly, careful not to cut her with the sharp iron nails fused to his fingers.

Lawthe’s man, Botaran if Kaeto remembered correctly, approached, holding his bird's bridle in one hand, sword staff in the other. He bowed low to Kaeto, silent and calm. The prince was never sure how to engage with this Jah Annan. Some days he seemed gentle as any child playing with butterflies. Other days he could smash the insects between his hands with no remorse.

“Rise,” Kaeto commanded, and the Jah Annan straightened. “You understand our goal for today? Lawthe explained it all to you?”

Botaran nodded, maintaining his silence. Honestly, Kaeto thought, some of these Jah Annan took the whole stoic warrior far too seriously.

“Good, mount up, and we’ll be off. Adarelle, brief me on the intelligence we have while we ride. You four, get in line. You're soldiers, not constables.”

The liveried men stopped their playful bantering and straightened into a formal line, each man bowing and muttering “yes my lord,” before mounting up. Adarelle smiled at him before mounting her own bird and retrieving a sheaf of papers from one of her saddlebags.

Their destination was an hour's ride away, the furthest out of all the plantations in the western regions. Botaran rode close to Kaeto’s bird, Adarelle at her usual position on his left while the regulars rode behind, powder rifles held at ease.

A few minutes out of camp, Adarelle finished skimming through her notes and politely cleared her throat. “I have the report ready for you now,” she said.

Kaeto nodded, signaling her to continue. “Of all the plantations, Herendarn has seen the largest spike in rebel activity over the last few moons,” his steward began. “The regulars have reported several instances of rebel indoctrination resulting in gin riots, crop sabotage, and the murder of the previous land master and his family.”

“Master Kardyn?” Kaeto asked, and his steward nodded. “Shame. His son and I used to race moas when we were younger. Who is the current land master then?”

“Land Master Lajir. He was appointed at the last full high moon. Due to security concerns, they’ve doubled the plantations private guard force and moved their manor higher up in the hills.”

Kaeto stroked his long red goatee. “What do we know of this Lajir?”

Adarelle thumbed through a few more pages before giving her a reply. “Not much beyond official records, unfortunately. He’s a born and raised freeman from the province and obviously well respected among the local lords to be granted the plantation. Other than that, there isn’t much to be found except for he’s not suited for kar manipulation.”

Kaeto snorted at the last bit. “Of course. The blood outside the capital has grown too weak to gather and hold the starlight.” Kaeto himself could only move the smallest bits of kar from his blood, enough to occasionally light a candle but not much more. One of his father's greater regrets was that Kaeto hadn’t been starborn, and the prince couldn’t help but see it as a personal failing. “Do you have anything else on the man? Closest assoiates or freinds?” He asked, moving on.

Adarelle shook her head. “There's nothing solid, just rumors.”

“Rumors?” Kaeto asked.

“Yes,” his steward said hesitantly. “A few rumors say he’s invited haetnellian rebels into his manor. With due respect, my lord prince, it is nothing more than wild speculation. Some go as far as to accuse him of working with the rebels to murder land master Kardyn, but there is no evidence to back the claims. In fact, Lajir rescued Kardyn’s youngest daughter from the corrupted gin.”

Frowing, Kaeto said, “I thought you said they’d all died.”

“Yes, they did. The daughter died two days later from smoke inhalation. There was nothing anybody could have done to save her, not without a starborn.”

The prince scowled. “That's… unfortunate,” he said, managing to reign in his temper. “Do you have anything else for me then?”

“No, my lord. That is everything.”

Kaeto turned to Botaran. “Acting shield, do you have anything to add? I understand part of Lawthe’s teachings includes leadership. Surely you have something to say.”

The Jah Annan maintained his stoic silence for several long moments as they rode on, then surprised Kaeto by speaking. “If I might say, my lord prince, I mean no disrespect to lady Adarelle, but I believe disregarding the rumors would be a mistake.”

Kaeto raised an eyebrow at the Jah Annan. He didn’t think he’d ever heard this one talk before. “Explain,” the prince said.

“Well, my lord prince, as your steward said, we know very little of this man. I believe it would be better to keep the rumors in mind when you speak with him. There may be no truth to the rumors, but it would be dangerous to discount them entirely.”

The prince nodded. “Wise words, Shield. You already show more promise than either of the other two.”

With that, the party marched on. As the sun rose above the scrublands as they approached the hernandarn plantation, the heat was more oppressive than the hottest forges in Jael. They were ushered inside the walls the moment the guards made them out. Land Master Lajir approached with open arms, sweet already dampening his fine clothes.

“My lord prince, we welcome you to hernandarn. You’re earlier than we expected,” the land master said, giving Kaeto a wide grin that the prince struggled to read.

After dismounting from Djinna and handing her bridle to one of the plantation’s few gerin grooms with a stern look full of meaning and promise, Kaeto approached the other man. Behind him, Botaran and Adarelle did likewise, but the livered soldiers had been bared entry at the gates as was customary.

The acting shield to his left, draped in billowing black cloth, sword staff in hand, and Adarelle on the prince’s right, Kaeto gave the land master a shallow bow. Lajir returned the bow, deeper than the prince’s had been, a sign of his subservience.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Master Lajir. My apologies. We didn’t mean to surprise you. We simply made better time than was expected,” Kaeto said, tone as flat and formal as he could make it, a slight smile on his lips.

“Of course, my lord prince. No need to apologize. Would you care for refreshments before beginning your inspection?”

Kaeto eyed the man critically. He seemed genuine enough. The prince took a moment to glance around at the plantation, surprised by how organized and calm things seemed. Every other coffee plantation had shown an air of chaos, but hernandarn was strangely quiet.

“Tell me, Master Lajir is it always so quiet here. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that there wasn’t any real work happening on the grounds,” Kaeto said.

Lajir just smiled. “No, my prince, there is certainly work happening in the fields. In fact, I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised by our projected production for the season. As I’m sure you know, the manor was rebuilt higher up on the hills, so we don’t get much noise pollution from the gin below.”

Kaeto nodded. He’d forgotten that during the increasingly hot ride, but it didn’t matter. “Thank you for the offer of refreshment, but I believe we would be best served by a quick and clean inspection, don’t you agree?”

Lajir bowed his head. “As you wish, lord prince. Please, follow me then. Oh, and don’t mind my guards. They’re simply for show. Wouldn’t want any of the gin getting strange ideas now, would we.”

The land master chuckled, and Kaeto raised an eyebrow. “Do your gin often have strange ideas?” he asked, which made the land master laugh harder as he led them away from the manor down a path covered with a thick canopy of trees.

“Not since land master Kardyn died, my lord. I believe we exterminated the bulk of the corrupted gin after that unfortunate night.”

Kaeto nodded, then glanced at Adarelle, who was taking detailed notes. “What exactly was your relationship with Master Kardyn?” he asked Lajir as they walked down into the hilly coffee fields.

Lajir shrugged. “He was my mentor. The previous land master had no male heirs, so he took me in, intended for me to inherit the plantation, I believe. It was only luck that after his death, the local lord decided to award the land to me.”

Frowning, Kaeto asked, “But Land Master Kardyn did have a son, Kyrdle. We used to race birds around the capital when we were younger.”

Lajir nodded. “Yes, Kyrdle was his heir until he had an accident while out riding. His bird broke its ankle and felt, crushing him beneath it. It took a week to find him, and by then, it was too late for a proper burial. They had to burn him instead.”

“Mito’s zenith?” Kaeto asked, and the land master nodded again.

“They found his corpse shuffling around the upper hills, nearer the mountains. By that time, the cursed thing had claimed several other victims. I doubt you would have heard of it in Jael. It was quite embarrassing for Master Kardyn.”

That explained a lot for the prince. The undead were not an uncommon occurrence, especially around Mito’s zenith, but amongst the high-born freemen, it was considered shameful to have one's own be resurrected by the cursed star.

“I imagine you must have been close with the young master to earn Kardyn’s favor then,” Kaeto said after a moment, the words more a question than a statement.

“Yes, I suppose you could claim as much,” Lajir said simply.

Kaeto wanted to pry further but only said, “My condolences.”

The tree line around them broke, and suddenly Kaeto found himself bombarded by the noise of hard labor and coffee bean refining. They’d come out of the trees near the storage barns, where larger-scale equipment was housed.

As the prince watched on, a massive machine plodded along between the rows of coffee trees, plucking cherries and feeding them into a de-pulper. A large crowd of gin followed behind the machine, picking the de-pulped beans from the ground.

“I forgot you were granted use of the harvester this year,” Kaeto said, impressed by the efficiency of the thing. He himself had never seen the machines in action before, but now that he had, it was indeed a marvel.

Lajir laughed. “Yes, it was quite kind of the high council to grant us the equipment. My financial advisor believes we might be the largest producers in the region this year thanks to the machines.”

Kaeto raised an eyebrow at the man but stayed silent. They’d see soon enough whether or not it was simply blustering. Lajir guided them further into the plantation, past the gin and the harvester and towards the drying beds.

“It will be close this year, but once we harvest the last of the cherries, we might have to build more beds to dry the beans. As you can see, the ones we have are already overfilled as it is,” Kajir said.

Kaeto did see. The raised drying beds were overlaid with beans at various points in the drying process. Gin workers ambled about from one bed to another, occasionally glancing up to stare at the prince and the land master as they passed. With a glance at Botaran, he noticed the Jah Annan gripping his staff in a tight fist.

He took another look at the gin, this time purposefully critical. He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious.

“Is there something wrong, my lord prince?” Lajir asked, pausing as he looked back at Kaeto. Across the drying yard, a small handful of gin looked up from their work, then quickly shuffled away from the drying beds.

“What are they doing?” He asked, pointing to the group with one finger, the iron fingernail fused to his flesh glinting dark in the sunlight.

Lajir looked and frowned at the sight. “I’m not sure, my lord. Perhaps one of the gerin ordered them elsewhere. We are quite busy at the moment. Orders change quickly as the wind.”

Kaeto stroked his goatee. It made sense, but the way Botaran was acting made him uneasy. “Very well,” he said. “Shall we continue then?”

Lajir guided the prince’s party through the plantation for the next four hours. They inspected the orchards, more drying yards, and the roasting houses. The higher the sun grew, the more tense Botaran seemed to become, and more and more, Kaeto noted the gin and gerin acting strangely.

At least one group of gin would leave the area whenever Kaeto’s group entered it, and the gerin kept far away, occasionally flashing shifty glances in their direction.

As the sun neared midday, a time where Kaeto would rather be sleeping, Lajir finally led them towards the gin and gerin quarters. Unlike the previous plantation two days before, hernandarn kept their slave quarters clean and organized.

There were fully fleshed-out residences built into the hills, with a dining hall and sleeping quarters for all the workers. If Kaeto was being honest, it almost seemed as if the land master was spoiling his gin.

“Why treat them so well?” He asked Lajir as the man led him into the large dining hall. The stone was simple gray rock but well cut and sturdily built. It must have cost him much to build.

Lajir shrugged. “I find they work harder if they live better lives. A happy gin is more productive and less likely to betray you.”

Kaeto nodded. It did make a sort of sense, he supposed, but still, this seemed a bit much. Botaran was still holding onto his staff with a death grip to his left, and Kaeto found his hand instinctually wandering to the dagger at his waist.

“Where are the gin now?” Kaeto asked, realizing that midday was usually when the plantation land masters fed their slaves. The hall was empty, silent as a crypt.

“They’ll be here soon,” Lajir said, then gestured towards one of the long stone tables. “Would you care to sit? I can have the manor chefs prepare you refreshment if you’d like.”

That was another thing that made Kaeto uncomfortable. The gin quarters were unusually close to the land master’s manor.

Ignoring the man's offer, Kaeto asked, “does it make you uncomfortable, living so close to your gin, especially after Master Kardyn’s unfortunate demise?”

The land master shrugged again, a lackadaisical gesture that was beginning to grate on the prince’s nerves. Kaeto forced himself to relax, drawing his hand away from the dagger and taking a step towards the land master.

In one quick flash of movement, Kaeto lunged forward, grabbing the land master round the neck, the fused iron on his fingers digging into Lajir’s flesh, drawing blood.

“What are you doing?” Kaeto asked the man, pinning him down onto the table. Behind him, the prince heard the flutter of fabric as Botaran fell into a defensive stance. Then a bang and the dining hall doors burst open, a mass of gin armed with farming tools storming inside.

Lajir gurgled beneath Kaeto’s tightening grip, managing to get out, “Glory to King Norodim, death to Galdrin the fool!”

Kaeto scowled, then dug his iron nails in deeper, ignoring the way they pulled painfully on his bones and tore the land master’s throat out. Arterial blood sprayed from the man’s neck, and he died in a matter of moments.

The dining hall was quiet again, save for the clatter of wooden poles against stone as the gin surrounding them shifted.

“And?” Kaeto called to them, voice full of measured calm. “What will you all do now? You might be able to strike me down. There are hundreds of you, it seems, but my shield will certainly kill you all.”

Botaran flourished his staff, and the gin shied away from the long blade. One daring slave stepped forward, and the Jah Annan became a blur to Kaeto’s eyes. One swing of Botaran’s staff and the man fell to the side, his head rolling away on the stone floor.

Two more gin stepped forward then, eyes full of fury, and again the Jah Annan’s weapons blurred, and with a single slash, both men fell in a mist of spraying blood. No more stepped forward after that.

Kaeto strode towards the dining hall doors, and the gin parted before him, Adarelle and Botaran following after him. They were all silent as they left the hall, and the silence continued as they made their way towards the plantation gates.

Twice more, they were stopped and twice more did Botaran’s blade drink. At the stone gates beside the manor house, Lajir’s guards stood in formation, fifty armed soldiers ready to fight.

The prince had seen Jah Annan fight, he’d seen them kill, but he’d never seen them slaughter before. Botaran became a whirlwind of death, cutting through the men with an air of elegant brutality that made Kaeto shudder.

Men screamed the crack of powder pistols split the air, and in moments the fighting was done. Blood soaked the stone pavers and the dirt, flowing down the hill, following the narrow path. The Jah Annan stood at the center of the carnage, still as a statue, showing no sign of exertion.

Kaeto knew the man had been lucky, that if Lejir had armed his men with rifles, the Jah Annan would be dead, but he couldn’t help but be awed by the man. The way the man had moved seemed so simple, so fluid, kind almost, but every swing delivered quick death.

Botaran crouched down for a moment to clear his blade of blood, then rose and returned to the prince. “Well done, acting shield. Lawthe will hear of your valor today. Your actions shall not go unrewarded.”

Botaran bowed deeply. “I thank you, my lord prince, but a Jah Annan’s duty is to serve, to kill. I need no reward for doing my duty.”

Kaeto nodded. This one would indeed make for a great shield. The prince noticed four corpsed along the large stone wall and felt a small knot form in his chest. The four liveried men who’d accompanied him laid dead against the stone, black tabards stained darker with blood.

A flash of panic ran through him as he glanced towards the stables. Keeping his calm air, the prince strode forward, pushing open the large wooden doors. Relief washed over him as he spotted Djinna in one of the stalls.

He stepped towards her and gently stroked the bird's neck, whispering comforting words to the moa. The prince refused both Botaran and Adarelle when the other two offered to saddle the birds for him, instead doing the work himself. He found comfort in the small action, and it helped ease the tension building in his shoulders.

The trio left the plantation behind, riding back towards the camp. “Adarelle, this was the last inspection, correct?” Kaeto asked his stewards.

“Yes, my lord. Would you like to send a raven notifying the council and king of what occurred in hernandarn?”

Kaeto nodded. “Yes, and as soon as we return, have the men pack up camp. We return to Jael with all haste. There are things I must discuss with the council in person as soon as possible.”