“Akayan is perhaps the most confusing nation on our continent,” Oras began his explanation. “Not only are its borders quite scattered, it also technically is not Akayan.”

  Celia shot him an unappreciative glance. “May I ask you to be precise, Master?”

  “You may, but this is genuinely difficult to explain.” The Dragonblood tapped twice on the much smaller country tucked away in the east coast of Akayan’s southern chunk. “This here, Erdibeli, is the actual ruler of Akayan.”

  “Another fracturing empire situation?”

  “Quite the opposite. The joined realm is known under the title: ‘the Merchant’s Republic Erdibeli and its Territories of Akayan’. It is a prosperous and, somehow, united realm.”

  “Somehow?” Celia asked.

  “Yeah, we ain’t getting how it works,” Theria weighed in. “Oras can stop me if I get anythin’ wrong, but the rundown that I remember goes like this: the original Akayan territories, the ones on the Elephant Peninsula, were totally wild. Like, Kumsyurt is wild but Akayan was way worse. They didn’t have any central authority, but what they did have is a reliable trading partner in Erdibeli. The merchants essentially… bought the sovereignty of the territory bit by bit to stabilize trade or something like that.”

  “That is the gist of it,” Oras confirmed. “The Akayanese lacked the coordination to build and maintain the roads the Erdibeli wanted to keep lucrative trade flowing. Plus, the merchant’s republic is dependent on the inland for the massive amount of ships they build every year.”

  “It’s a ship-state!” Theria declared.

  “The term is thalassocracy,” Oras corrected.

  “Mine’s clearer.”

  “I prefer thalassocracy,” Celia weighed in. “Let me summarize: merchants bought overlordship and Akayan continues to accept this?”

  “They are left independent enough to be treated as their own name on the map,” Oras said. “Though Akayan is less its own nation than a loose confederation of baronies and small duchies that all swear allegiance to the merchants of Erdibeli.” The leader of the party gestured north. “The story of the south repeated itself in the north. As the Empire of Strings collapsed, Erdibeli merchants came in as mediators. Their ships patrolled the coasts, preventing monsters and pirates from taking advantage of the chaos.”

  “Way we kept being told about it, it sounded like they didn’t even want the extra land,” Theria added. “They just kinda got stuck with it, because it was either they integrated it or they’d lose their trade routes.”

  “What a peculiar way to end up with a nation,” Celia said.

  “You can see why I had trouble explaining it.” Oras took a sip from his mug of water. “Any further questions?”

  “Is there anything further of interest to know?” the doll woman asked in turn.

  “Not that I am aware of.”

  “Then no.”

  ______________________________________________________________________

  Weekdusk, 27th of Octavius, 11th Year of the Stringless Era

  The Dragonhoard party arrived early at the meeting spot. All of them were early risers. Theria and Oras had grown up on a farm, where one rose and slept with the sun. Work was often plentiful and hours of light limited. Even on days that they had gotten time off, one did not move about in the jungle at night. Some foolish children may sleep in a tree hollow overnight, but that was a different matter.

  As for Celia, she was programmed to be awake before her Master. By the time Oras had peeled out of the sheets, the maid had already prepared a bucket of clean water and a rag for them to clean themselves. She had also made some sassy remarks about sleeping in a different bed.

  ‘Soon enough,’ he thought, treating his eyes to the view of the ancient doll woman’s profile. In the side view, the swing of her bubble butt and thighs was all the more apparent.

  Hinges squeaked lightly as the door of the mansion was pushed open. The clacking of a walking step reverberated lightly, the man holding it refusing to put more weight on it than he needed to.

  Romas Ehrman, the venerable as Karlos liked to call him, was immediately recognizable. Though a fair amount of men made it to 70, few could claim to be in as good health at that point. His recent crippling had not resulted in a diminishment of his warrior’s physique yet. He had broad shoulders, covered by his undecorated monk’s robe. A long, red sash was integrated into the traditional article of clothing of the faithful, no doubt a signifier of his militaristic order.

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  He had long hair, every bit of colour faded from it years ago, that he wore in a low ponytail, and a long beard. Though his face was marked by wrinkles and age spots, the blue eyes in the shadow of his knitted brows seemed to almost glow with determination.

  Romas Ehrman AI Picture:

  “You are early. Good.” The old monk mustered all of them like a captain did fresh sailors. “Oras, Theria, and the discovered ancient, Celia?”

  “Yes.” “Yep.” “Affirmative.” They answered in turn.

  Karlos appeared behind Romas, carrying a sack of provisions. Just by the size of it, it would be more than enough for a single person. “Making a proper first impression,” the jolly member of the Cult remarked. “Come this way, please.”

  The group respectfully remained behind Romas as he moved along. For a man with a cane, he was swift on foot. ‘Can he keep that pace all day?’ Oras asked himself.

  “You must wonder how much I will slow you down,” Romas said, his voice deep and gravely. “You’ll find the answer to that in our destination.”

  They turned a corner and Theria squealed. “Nooooo waaaaaaay, bro!”

  Karlos had guided them to the stables. Horses shared the space with a small number of elephants. Low-ranking and young members of the Main Cult had the honourable task of scrubbing the sides of the magnificent animals with rough brushes on long sticks. One of the herd was being prepared with a harness, a small cart positioned to be drawn.

  Approaching on swift feet, Celia and Theria got as close to the elephant as the workers let them. While they engaged in their fully justified appreciation of this holy creature, it dawned on Oras just how venerated the man they were accompanying truly was. The Cult did not offer an elephant carriage to just anyone.

  The herd of the capital was not owned. Elephants were too smart and powerful to be pets like rats or dogs. There were times when the herd was led out of the city and given the opportunity to roam or even leave. They had, at times, but they had always come back. It was a symbiotic relationship that the Cult had with the elephants that Nature had entrusted them with.

  They certainly were not beasts of burden. Elephant carriages were reserved for honourable processions. To lend one out to bring a man home was the utmost show of respect.

  The carriage itself was quite simple compared to the holy beast drawing it. In fact, Oras was pretty sure it was a hastily adjusted handcart, given a roof and some cushions to make sitting in it for hours a little more bearable. Romas regarded even these luxuries with a critical eye.

  “You are treating me too well,” he criticized Karlos. “Enlightenment is found through pushing through discomfort.”

  “You’re always welcome to shuffle the pillows aside,” Karlos responded simply.

  Romas snorted, a sound between amusement and annoyance. “I will miss our conversations.”

  “...As will I, venerable monk.”

  Oras watched the exchange with quiet interest. He did not dare weigh into what could likely be the last conversation between them. Romas would make it home, that was his test and he would make it through. After that, a 70 year old man with a bad knee would not see much of the world anymore. If ever they met again, it would be because Karlos made the trip all the way north.

  There was a bittersweetness to watching them interact that Oras could understand, though only as a faint echo. He had not suffered the loss of any relationship like that in his life. There had been village elders that he had known since he was little that had perished at the hands of time. Those had not been such close bonds.

  One of the caretakers of the herd approached Oras, focusing his mind on other things.

  “I would like to introduce you to Subra,” he said.

  “It would be my honour.” Oras followed the caretaker to the elephant. Now that the harness was all in place, most of the workers had retreated, letting him and his two women step up to the elephant. “A female, right?”

  The caretaker was somewhat surprised by the question. “You have a good eye for sizes,” he complimented. “We don’t typically have males draw carriages over long distances. There’s always a slight chance they pick up the scent of a female and go tail chasing.”

  Subra reacted to their approach with a playful wave of her trunk. The grey tube of flexible muscle moved up and down in front of them, the nostrils drawing in air. Theria gave her a well-meaning poke. The elephant returned in kind. Celia stood next to their little wrestling competition, a hand half raised, mouth open, looking for an opening to join.

  ‘The blessings of nature,’ Oras commented mentally on the scene. It was wonderful to live in a world where they could stand next to a magnificent creature like that. As a young adult female, Subra stood at over two metres tall and five long. If she wanted to, she could have bodied them quite easily.

  “Subra is very well behaved, but this will be her first long distance journey without any of us,” the caretaker informed them. “This will be a learning experience for her. I’m relying on you three to guide her well.”

  “We will,” Oras assured the man. “Assumedly, you want to tell us some tips to communicate with her?”

  “Indeed. Generally, if you call her name urgently and point her at something, she’ll get the idea to walk there or support you with something. She’s skittish when it comes to murky water, so if she stops in the middle of the road, check if there’s puddles and just show her there’s nothing in them. Provisions wise, there’s feed for her on the carriage, but that’s for emergencies or if she’s being unusually stubborn about something. Just let her forage when you do your meals. She knows to come back to where the cart is parked.”

  “‘Course she does, she’s a big, smart girl!” Theria was now all but hanging off of the right tusk of the animal. Celia had managed to endear herself enough to put a hand on the blessed beast’s leg.

  “That she is,” the caretaker said proudly.

  Romas stepped into the conversation with an underlining clack of his cane. “If all is ready, let’s not dally any further.”

  That was the final signal everyone needed. The old monk climbed onto the cart, refusing the help of those around. The belts and ropes of the harness and cart were checked one last time. Everyone watched as Subra tested the weight on her, then carefully turned the corner to the street. The animal walked at a relaxed pace, easy to follow for the young adventurers.

  While they rolled out of the city, the Dragonhoard party was silent.

  They did not wish to intrude on the thoughts of a man who saw his holiest of sites for the last time.