Hutch did not sleep well that night. He wasn't haunted by his usual dreams and his nightmares brought him no comfort. What addled him that night was something new; surfacing regrets that tore at his mind and pierced at his heart like tiny daggers, causing him to wake, startled and covered in sweat. He'd fallen from a cliff and could have sworn he'd hit the ground. He was all too familiar with how that felt, and had no desire to relive it, even in his nightmares.
His room was still black, the bright red digits of his clock telling him it was little passed three. Pushing off his covers, he sung his legs out of the bed, and sat on the edge, with his head in his hands. His brow was sopping, and his fingers were trembling. He was exhausted but feared what awaited him, if he went back to sleep. Lowering his hands, he stared at his palms, flexing open his fingers, his sweat red from the light, appeared as blood upon his skin, an all too familiar sight.
"Why now?" he wondered, forcing himself from his bed.
Making his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a washcloth and turned on the sink faucet, running the water until it was as cold as it could get, before drenching the cloth and wiping at his brow and neck. He welcomed the drips of cold water as they cascaded down his chest and back. He welcomed the discomfort they brought, and languished in it, as he continued to wipe his sweat away. Rising and wringing the cloth whenever it felt too warm in his hand.
He didn't feel better, when he was finished, just cleaner. The layer of salt and sweat now gone. Drying himself off, he returned to his room. If not for another day of school ahead, he would have dressed and run. He would have run every forested foot of that one-hundred-acre estate, even if his toes froze and his lungs burned. But even then, there are just some things he knew he couldn't run away from. The memories, and all the doubt they now contained, the questions they left unanswered, the guilt they left to linger. The possibility that he'd been so incredibly wrong, about so much, that he'd allied himself with the Outlaw King of Cheph, and gone so far as to lead an army into war against Salvador, had begun to eat at him. Because he could no longer justify his decisions. He could no longer see how he ever believed that Ensaso Sar'Basirak, was better than King Casimir Salvador.
On Illimev, you either became a king by right, or you were made a king by force. And like Salvador, Sar'Basirak was a king born of conflict. Cheph was a nation cut from Qur'loam to the west by mountains and connected to the rest of the world by the sea, and a long road south into the nation of Can'marou. Cheph was lawless, run by pirates, outlaws, and slavers, a breeding ground for criminals beneath the gaze of Folanola, the Scavenger Goddess, and each faction had their own King.
Those of Cheph had come to revile Salvador as much as Hutch, after he collapsed half a mountain to seal the only pass between the two nations, shortly after he'd come into power. Having outlawed slavery in Qur'loam, his actions seemed justified; not wanting those of Cheph to move their 'merchandise' through his country. But all actions have consequences, and for the people of Cheph, the ramifications were harsh and felt within weeks. The loss of the pass had crippled the nation, not just the criminals, but the people who relied on the trade with Qur'loam to survive, and in the wake of the falling mountain, many would not. However, for those who did, their struggles would give them strength.
As they rebuilt their country, they found new trade routes, and made new agreements with other countries, but they also found new ways to do as they pleased, by being what they were, and doing what they were good at.
Decades after Salvador had taken power of Qur'loam, a new king butchered his way to power in the Outlaw faction of Cheph, and from there, he lorded his will over the other factions as well. Ensaso Sar'Basirak, was a man of violence; brutal, and ruthless. He was a beast, without a leash, free to do as he wished, and no one dared to cross him. While no one would doubt his care for his country, they also knew he wouldn't think twice about cutting anyone of his countrymen down if they got in his way. He used fear, intimidation, and brute strength to keep his power, and even the other kings, bowed their heads in subordination, for he respected few, and trusted none.
Hutch felt sick as he recalled the first time they had met. He remembered the scent of the salt on the air, and the dark haze that hid away the sun. He, Kahlala, and Ghan'dono, had been in Cheph for more than a season by then; keeping to themselves up in a mountain valley, having found a small clearing along the shore of a babbling brook, whose waters tasted of sulfur. It was a small price to pay for solitude and survival, and together, they had managed to make that spot, something of a home. It had taken more than a month to build their small house, having to fight against roots, and stones as they dug out their foundation.
When their earthen home was finished, with Ghan'dono's help, Hutch had spent the previous two weeks, expanding the clearing beside the house, stripping away the brush, and trees, pulling up roots, and clearing the debris, hoping the ground was good enough beneath to keep a garden in the coming year. But that was a small matter, if they couldn't survive the rest of the year or the winter to come, requiring them to make a thirteen-mile journey down to the nearest village, which had no real name. Known to the locals as Blue Rock, for the enormous blue hued boulder that sat in the center of the park next to the village square, like all the villages in Cheph, it was identified by its most distinguished landmark or structure requiring most outsiders to rely on a map, given the abnormal number of replicated descriptions.
For instance, twenty miles up the road was Large Tree, and ten beyond that was also Large Tree, with each village saying theirs was the largest, while on a map the second village was known as Large Prayer Tree, giving the braided prayer ropes that had been wound around it's trunk. To the east, eleven miles, was Stacked Stones, but to the southwest was Stacked Rocks, and while on the map, stones and rocks are written with a distinctive character, verbally they are pronounced near identical, one being rah, and the other rha. And twenty miles beyond Stacked Stones was the Village-by-the-sea, of which there were at least four stretched up the coast, with the capital city five miles north of the first, called The Ship Port.
Blue Rock, in comparison, was small, out of the way, and pleasantly peaceful, lacking the younger, criminal element of The Ship Port. Blue Rock had become a village for the retired, Pirates widows and their children, and those who simply wanted to live a better way. Traders on their way to Large Tree, would stop in Blue Rock along the way, allowing the small inn to prosper, and making goods easy to obtain. While a weekly market run in the square during the summer and fall offered the residence, who were mostly farmers, to sell off what vegetables and preserves they had to spare.
Knowing they wouldn't even make it through the winter on only what they could hunt and forage, Hutch and Ghan'dono, had decided to make the trip down out of the mountains, on that chilly, overcast day, never expecting what awaited them in that small village below.
They had loaded their cart the night before with the charcoal, tallow, dried meat, and bones, they'd been producing and gathering, hoping to make enough to purchase what vegetables they could, and in the morning, despite the ominous look of the sky and the distinctive scent of the ocean hanging in the air, they harnessed Spikey, and began to make their descent.
Three hours later, having avoided the rain, they arrived on the outskirts of the village, to the sight of a caravan of ten men, using oxen like beasts known as diazhuam to pull their carts full of Sajomei, men, women, and children, bound in chains.
"Keep your eyes down," Ghan'dono warned, as they pulled up the hoods of their cloaks.
"We should turn back," Hutch whispered, as they slowed their pace, suddenly grateful for the overcast day.
"We can't. If we've been spotted, they will give chase. It is best if we continue and pay them no mind. We will go about our business and let them go about theirs. But Hutch, do not leave my side. You are not a soldier here, you are my son, and we are nothing more than mountain men come to sell our wares."