Two weeks.

Two weeks traversing the mountains on foot. Fourteen nights, sleeping on damp earth, or hard rocks, with only a few furs to stave off the cold. With only Gaori for company.

The only reprieve was every couple of days, they would come across a small camp with a guest house. They would be offered warm milk and honey and sleep under a roof for a night or two.

They fell into a steady rhythm. Upon leaving the guest house early in the morning, they would be in good spirits, climbing the mountains with the speed of beasts. They would reminisce about their childhood games, and startle the birds with old songs. When night fell, they would find a suitable place to settle down and start a fire. They would carefully ration the supplies they had picked up at the camp, and stay up late talking and laughing.

The next morning, they would have rediscovered just how cold the wilderness could get. From then on, jokes and songs came less naturally, and they would trudge along in increasing silence until they saw the smoke of the next camp rising above the trees.

This was the last camp before they met their destination. It was at the base of Saoshak, the Shak’s mountain. The next day, they would climb about three-quarters of the way up and arrive at their final destination.

In some of the camps they visited, the “guest house” was more like a dilapidated storage shed. Holes in the roof, missing doors, a pile of unwashed blankets in a corner.

The base of the Shak’s mountain received foot traffic from all sorts: the Shak’s people hunting in the surrounding forest, visitors from other clans paying tribute, and even the occasional caravan of plains or desert peoples. For this reason, it had facilities more befitting of its position.

“Woah,” Gaori said, when the lacquered wooden building came into view, “they have enough room to host our whole clan,”

It was built on stilts, not as tall as the ones in Camp Kaolin, but nearly twice as thick and numerous. This was because they supported a vast building, towering four storeys high. The bottom consisted of common areas and a kitchen. There was a sloping bridge that led down to bathing pools adjacent to the river and the upper floors were set aside for guests to sleep in.

They weren’t the only ones passing through to the Shak’s camp. Word travelled fast, even to the most isolated camps, of the Shak’s sudden passing. Any camp that could spare someone, would send an individual, carrying two tributes, one to the late Shak, and one to his successor.

Rae and Gaori’s efforts to maintain a low profile had been successful. Rae had never let his guard down whether in a camp or deep in the forest and had yet to find any evidence of assassins tailing them.

To maintain their unassuming facade, Gaori asked for a small room in a quiet corner of the guest house. It had a bed, big enough for two, a dresser, and a veranda overseeing the river that served the camp.

“We’d better go get some food,” Rae said, with hopes of roasted pheasant or rabbit, “it looked like it was getting busy down there,”

Busy was an understatement. A dance troupe was spending the night at the inn and had agreed to perform in lieu of payment. Crammed into the guest house were all the excess guests that were passing through at that time, as well as a couple hundred residents of the camp. A stage had been set up in the main courtyard, and the kitchens were turning out large quantities of grilled meats, sweet buns, and fine wine.

Gaori and Rae got some food and sat to watch the performance. Dance troupes sometimes stopped at camp Kaolin, and there were even some local girls who could put on a decent performance, but the Shak’s mountain boasted more polished talents.

The performance was rowdier than most Rae had seen before, and Gaori’s attention was solely on a buxom girl in a coral dress. She twirled her skirts and kicked her legs in a way that almost defied modesty, but held back just enough to remain enticing to any hot-blooded young man watching.

During this display, Rae realised that now would likely be the best opportunity to go take a bath in relative privacy. It had been four days of trekking since he last bathed, and he didn’t feel like sharing the bath with the section of the crowd who were hooting and hollering at the girls with the most low-cut dresses.

He tried to tell Gaori this, and his cousin smiled and seemed to encourage the idea. The crowd was too loud to hear exactly what might have been said.

When Gaori made no moves to stop him, Rae went back upstairs to fetch his spare change of clothes. Unassuming things, brown trousers, an undershirt, and and a green tunic.

When he reached the main staircase, Rae was stopped in his tracks by a man standing on the steps.

At first, it seemed he had stood there to get a better vantage to view the show. But as Rae drew closer, it became clear the man had noticed him, but he showed no interest in moving. He shifted his weight so he was no longer leaning against the bannister, blocking even more of the walkway.

He was towering, dressed in fine violet silk, with a brocade overcoat. His expression wasn’t quite as arrogant as Gaori’s but there had to be a proper word to describe it… Smug?

“Wonderful time to be in town, eh?” he said with a smirk. Rae settled on a word. Punchable.

His hair was sleek and shiny, and tied in a neat topknot. He didn’t look like someone who had been on the road for days, perhaps a young master from the camp.

“You’re blocking the way,” Rae said, shoving his way through the gap between the man and the wall. The man didn’t move at all, but his torso wasn’t so broad as to block the entire walkway, and Rae was lithe and nimble.

Rae made it past, but the stubborn bastard had grabbed his cloak. When Rae tugged at it, he soon let go.

“Is that the crest of Kaolin?” he asked.

Rae’s mind was blank for a moment before he realised the man must have seen the clasp on his cloak. Dread pooled in his stomach, before he reassured himself that the Kaolin was a large clan and any member from the lowest servant to the Duke himself, had the right to wear the same crest.

“Yes, it is. Excuse me,”

Rae hurried up the stairs, he could hear footsteps behind him. Best to end this while they were still in a public space.

“Young master, I’m not free to talk right now,” he said.

“Young master? Are you a servant?” the man asked, expression open and trusting.

Being a servant was safe. Unassuming.

“Yes, my master is watching the show,”

“And what are you doing?”

It wasn’t too strange for an errant young master to take an interest in a servant. If the comfort and luxury of a good background ever got boring, they were a form of entertainment that was never far away.

Rae wasn’t sure he wanted to visit the bathing pools anymore, for fear of anyone else getting too chatty.

“We’re setting out tomorrow morning, so I’m going to get some rest,”

“Ah, best let you go then. Rest well,” After all that strife, the man had backed down quite easily. Rae looked over his silk robes a second time, scanning them for any clues as to his origin. As if he noticed Rae scrutinising him, he tucked a stray hair behind his ear.

“Are you from this camp, young master?” Rae asked.

“No. I’m passing through, just like you. I might leave tomorrow too, if you’re also ascending the mountain, I could join you and your master,”

That wouldn’t do.

“I’m afraid my master isn’t so friendly,” Rae replied, coaxing a chuckle from the man, “where have you travelled from?”

“I’m Ven Ashem, from the Ashem camp. Have you heard of it?”

Heard of it? Rae’s veins were full of ice. Ashem. That name was… The very sound of it turned Rae’s stomach.

“Now, now. I know the Kaolin don’t care for my kind, but I mean no trouble,”

Like hell he did. A young master Ashem had the means, the motive, and free access to Rae with no more than a lovelorn Gaori to protect him.

Ven Ashem smiled like a wolf. Worse. Wolves killed to survive. Ven smiled like something possessed by a witch. Something that only knew evil.

Rae was about to turn on his heels and run when a friendly face appeared at the foot of the stairs. Gaori had opened his mouth to ask a question when Rae cried out.

“Young master!”

Gaori was stunned to silence, but upon a pleading look from Rae, cleared his throat and spoke.
“I thought I told you to go back to the room,” he said, casting a disdainful look at Rae and then at Ven. He was playing his role so well, that Rae didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Ven muttered some apology, before retreating into the crowd.

“You okay? I thought you were going to the bath?” Gaori said once he was sure Ven was gone.
“I was until he started harassing me,” Rae said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“What was his problem?”

“He’s from camp Ashem,”

“Ah,” Gaori said. He opened his mouth to say something, probably some optimistic platitude, but seeing Rae’s face, he didn’t.

“The drinks might be cheap here, but since we’re amongst enemies, I’ll show some restraint tonight. Let’s stick close together from now on,”