I could be considered rash, even a bit hotheaded, but to slap a man for muttering a curse—even a heinous one—wasn’t like me.

  It seems the day has gotten to me.

  I looked around, sensing that the place had gone deathly silent. All eyes were on me. I recognised a few faces from the crowd, schoolmates and important clansmen—high society in general. There were also a lot of foreigners mixed in there.

  The waiter held the side of his cheek, his eyes wide in shock. I wanted to apologise, but then a voice—dripping with venom—sounded to my right.

  “If it isn’t our adventurous Yomon, causing a commotion as usual,” the voice said, coming from a boy who approached with two men.

  The boy who had spoken was none other than Pot, son of Ekhan—the elder whom my father suspected as the traitor. He was flanked by Tuffah, son of Rumman, on his left, and on his right was a huge man with golden plate armour with intricate carvings, flowing golden hair, and an orange mane—that one looked fierce, especially with a golden sack strapped to his belt and a long sword hanging on his back. Pot and Tuffah were wearing the same Hanshin clothing as the rest.

  I thought Purposers didn’t use mundane weapons, especially such an unhandy sword. Is it for show?

  “What? Shocked to see me here?” Pot taunted as he got too close for comfort. He stood at the same height as me and was the same age, too, but that was where our similarities ended.

  I scanned Pot’s group before turning to face him, locking gaze with the prideful boy. Tuffah didn’t say anything; he only nudged for his employee to go away before continuing to stare at us behind his glasses, although he looked a bit scared—his feet fidgeting in place.

  Not going to make his man apologise? Too bad for him.

  The golden man, on the other hand, had a small smirk—he seemed to be enjoying the confrontation.

  “I’m more surprised at how low this establishment had stooped,” I said, careful to only mention the restaurant and not the elder patron, as that would be going too far. Still, I knew this would cause problems down the line, which was unfortunate, but they had started it. When their waiter had disrespected me, he wasn’t only disrespecting my person, but the chieftain, too.

  “Don’t you guys feel stupid wearing these clothes? I mean, it must be unbarebly hot inside there, and your… must be itching from how tight it is.” I moved my gaze down at Pot’s crotch before continuing. “Well, Pot doesn’t have one, so there’s no problem there.”

  The kid’s face seemed to turn beet red at that. “You!” But then a snicker came from behind—from the golden man, cutting Pot off.

  “I, too, don’t like the Hanshins attire. Anyways, aren’t you guys going to introduce the gentleman?” The man’s voice was one of the nicest voices I’ve ever heard; it was almost feminine. He also didn’t have any accent whatsoever.

  Tuffah stepped in quickly. “T-this here is Yomon son of Khalad, the current chieftain, Sir Ozman.”

  “So this is him, huh?”

  Tuffah nodded his head meekly.

  The current chieftain?

  Pot looked as if he was about to explode, but he stepped aside when the man came closer for a handshake—the boy really respected the man if he postponed our confrontation. I looked at the man’s extended hand: a golden gauntlet with carving of swords, knights, and horses.

  Who the heck is this guy? Ozman… Aha!

  I shook the man’s hand; his fist’s strength was tremendous, but being used to such domineering shakes, I didn’t back down. Our eyes locked; mine defiant and proud, his cold and calculating, contrasting against his faint smile.

  This man is dangerous.

  After long heartbeats, the man released, giving me a curt head nod.

  “I’m vice guild master Hananu. Nice to meet you, Brother Yomon. Oh, and please don’t mind my armour, it’s part of my Class, or as you guys call it here, Purpose.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Brother Hananu. And I don’t mind the armour, it’s actually very… cool. By the way, are you related to Elder Heler?”

  Hananu’s smile widened, his wrinkles deepening at his eye’s corner. The man wasn’t young, probably in his forties.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Of course, he’s my father. He hasn’t been too much of a burden, I hope?”

  Your father? Wait a second…

  “No, of course not. Elder Heler is welcome to stay indefinitely. Brother Hananu, if I may ask, why didn’t you come join your father and stay with us?”

  Hananu’s smile became a bit awkward; his eyes darted to the two heirs of the clans on his left and right.

  Those scheming old hags.

  The elders, in their treachery and greed, had probably argued against the guild’s master and vice staying at the chieftain’s place, as that would give him too much leverage with the newcomers.

  Tuffah looked uncomfortable at the man’s imote, while Pot was still glaring at me.

  Weirdly, he’s staying silent.

  The Pot I knew wouldn’t have left a chance to belittle me. It was so unlike him to stay put and watch me talk without jumping in.

  What are they planning?

  “…I understand. Well, if the spirals aren’t comfortable anymore, you can consider my house yours.”

  “You’re too kind, brother Yomon. Don’t worry, the elders are treating me very generously. And I like to train with the warriors there. Although no one has been able to best me in a duel.”

  I was surprised and a bit intimidated at that.

  No warrior has been able to best him? Surely he’s joking.

  Although the man’s serious expression and the heirs’ not denying his words led me to believe he was serious.

  Our Khahandarian warriors were the strongest and fiercest in all of the Bara tribes. We were hired by many for the difficult missions. There was a saying that one warrior from Kahandar equalled two from other tribes. Even foreigners who came here were impressed, and he was telling me no one had managed to beat him.

  But how? We have peak-rank-one warriors.

  “That’s impressive. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your rank, brother?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m rank 2.”

  I tried to keep a passive face, but was deeply shocked inside. This was the only man, other than my deceased grandfather, who had reached such a high rank. Most warriors were stuck in the initial phase. With strong or old ones reaching the mids of rank one. Only clan elders and some exceptional men like Amidus reached the late stage.

  “Anyways, how about we continue our conversation inside? We are hindering the gathering, and the food is almost prepared. What do you say, brother Yomon?”

  This caught Pot’s attention, as he stopped staring daggers at me and started to drill a hole in Hananu’s back. Even Tuffah knitted his brows.

  Tuffah… you’ve always been the more normal one. What happened?

  “Maybe another time, my family is expecting me.”

  “As you like, Brother Yomon. Until we meet again.”

  ***

  My mind kept wandering about what had happened the whole way home, but thankfully, the second my head hit the pillow, I was in a deep slumber.

  I awoke earlier than usual on the second day, washed my face, and had a shower. Even though Heler had advised against it, I couldn’t help but do it.

  As I waited for the copper bucket to fill, I got a closer look at my wound’s scar. It was a four-finger-wide pink area. Unlike usual scars, it didn’t have spiky edges, being fully mended without stitches.

  A cold shower later, I dressed in the usual Bara garb, taking a moment to express my gratitude to my ancestors for creating such comfy clothes before heading out.

  No way I’d wear Hanshin clothes. Those were made for them, and these for us.

  Passing by the guard quarters, I could hear the earily wakers’ sword clashes. Father’s office door was open, and I hesitated in giving him a quick summary of what I had seen yesterday, but decided against it in the end.

  He probably knows about the party.

  I crossed the wooden bridge, then marched through the straight street towards the gates. Some early vendors had already started opening their shops, organising their merchandise, or sweeping some of the accumulated sand off the streets.

  The gates had no one passing through them, but there was a guard with mail armour standing there. I greeted him, but didn’t salute—this guard wasn’t under our group.

  He still saluted upon seeing me. I returned it.

  He’s probably from Clan Kinana.

  Clan Kinana’s warriors were known for their chivalry. Their elder too was an… honest man. He was the second most famous person in the tribe after my father. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any male heirs.

  Passing the gates, the Red Mountain reached for the skies on my right, while four spirals were spread sporadically on the left. I headed for the farthest one.

  “Pst, kid, this is clan Humus’s zone. If you're playing your games, I’d advise you try to escape from another turf.”

  I ignored the guard, continuing on my way.

  “Hey! I’m speaking to you,” the man shouted after me.

  “A Khahandarian can walk anywhere on our lands. Even Father’s island isn’t off limits.”

  That seemed to get the man to shut up.

  I moved next to Clan Humus’s spiral. Spirals were built by my grandfather to show his gratitude to his friends, the current elders, for their help in defending the tribe. They were made of red stone and rose for about five stories. Although each clan had made tweaks to theirs since then.

  The Humus Clan had changed theirs the most, replacing its red stones with imported marble. They had a low fence and a garden surrounding it, with fountains and noble stone statues of different creatures. They also had a huge insignia of a soaring eagle with a red background fixed above their gates—an idea they had imported from foreign nobles, I had heard.

  Those businesses must be making them filthy rich.

  Each clan had a speciality, and theirs could be said to be foreign trade, and they had lots of businesses inside the tribe.

  The second spiral was for Clan Trtors, led by Elder Ekhan. They had erected a tall wall around it, with sentries stationed on it. Their speciality was the military aspect.

  The third spiral was for Clan Muharib—the only clan led by a female. She had been my grandfather’s wife before they broke off, and she went to make her own clan—she currently didn’t have any heirs. Their spiral didn’t have any change from the outside, but having been inside of it, I knew they had made serious changes; it was coloured pink. Their speciality was creating different strings for clothes.

  The final spiral was where I was headed; it was owned by Clan Kinana. Their spiral had no changes, neither from the outside nor the inside. They specialised in assassinations and gathering information.

  I saluted the guards standing at the huge gates; they returned the salute.

  “Yomon, son of Khalad, asks for entry!” I announced at the closed gates. After a heartbeat, they squeaked open.

  “Long time no see, Yomon,” Judy, heir of Clan Kinana and daughter of Elder Sambousa, welcomed me.

  Judy was the only clan heir I liked, with me tolerating Tuffah—no more, and disliking Pot—we kinda had a revivalry. She was 25, with conservative ideals—her white clothes fully covered her. Although that didn’t mean she was any less than other girls. She was smart, beautiful, and strong. A sack was strapped to her side.

  “Judy!” I smiled at her, and she smiled back—her pearl white molars showing.

  “Come on, let’s have a chat inside with some coffee.”

  Finally, a normal person!

  I walked beside her. The insides of the spiral were a maze of narrow tunnels with vaulted ceilings, slits for windows, and regularly stationed guards.

  “So, how’s your father?”

  Judy glanced up at me. “Have you grown any taller?”

  “Ah, maybe?”

  “Okay, don’t grow any longer, or I might have to start training my neck to speak to you.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that, but Judy’s sudden expression shift made me stop mid-sentence.

  “What’s up? What got you so gloomy all of a sudden?”

  Judy sighed before answering. “I just returned from a mission, that’s why I couldn’t visit you. I’m… sorry”

  “That’s it? Don’t fret about it; it was just a scratch.”

  Judy stopped walking, turning to face me with her grave brown eyes. “We’ll catch her.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll catch Kamala and everyone who helped her, that’s a promise in front of God. We Khahandarians don’t renegade on our promises.”

  I stared at her for a second, her fiery gaze making me doubt my resolve for a second.

  You’re the man, not her. So, man up!

  I just nodded—a serious nod.

  We continued, coming across a variety of turns, staircases, and guarded doors.

  If she leaves me now, I’d probably lose my way.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we stopped in front of simple wooden doors.

  “So, aren’t you going to open the door?”

  “Yeah, but there’s something I need to tell you first…”

  What is it now?