Ona slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the bright rays of the sun peeking through the thatched roof above her cot. She took a deep breath of the earthy air, letting it out in a resigned sigh. Though she had been told she was a "guest" in this remote village, she knew better than to believe such hollow platitudes. She was effectively a prisoner here, her movements restricted and her every step watched.
Still, she had had to play along for now and gather as much information as she could about her confinement. Sliding off the cot, Ona made her way outside, squinting against the harsh sunlight. The dusty street was already alive with villagers going about their daily routines.
A couple of children raced by, shrieking with laughter and kicking up small clouds in their wake. Ona couldn't help but smile briefly at their carefree innocence. As they drew near, she stooped down with a warm expression. "Hello there. Would you mind telling me what games you enjoy around here?"
The children eyed her warily at first, but her friendly demeanor seemed to put them at ease. "We don't have many toys," the younger one said. "But we play a lot of chasing games through the crooked alleys!"
"I see," Ona replied with an understanding nod. "And where do those alleys lead? Anywhere interesting?"
The boy opened his mouth to respond, but his older sister nudged him firmly. "We shouldn't talk to strangers," she stated, giving Ona a distrustful look before ushering her brother away.
Undeterred, Ona continued down the street, zeroing in on an elderly man tending to the glowing forge outside a ramshackle building. The blacksmith, by the look of his soot-stained clothing and calloused hands.
"Morning, sir," Ona said respectfully as she approached. "Might I ask about your work? I'm curious what goods you craft here."
The grizzled man gave her a toothy smile, seemingly pleased to have an audience. "Well now, I forge all manner of blades and tools we need for life here on the rim," he replied, using a set of tongs to pull a glowing blade from the coals. "Everything from cookware to farming tools to weapons for the guardsmen."
"The guardsmen, you say?" Ona asked, keeping her tone casual but her eyes alert. "How many are stationed here to...keep the peace?"
The blacksmith opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment a portly merchant wandered past pushing a cart stacked high with woven baskets. "Aliko! Aliko, you foul snake!" he shouted jovially at the blacksmith. "When am I going to get those tapping spiles I ordered for my palm wine brewing?"
The blacksmith gave Ona an apologetic shrug before turning to bellow back at the portly man. Their banter continued, but Ona was already moving on, not waiting to be shooed away again.
Her gaze landed on the palm wine seller, and she quickly changed course to intercept him. "Sweet brewing supplies you've got there," she said with a friendly smile as she fell into step beside him. "I'll wager your wine is the best in Kebo. Do you brew it all yourself?"
The merchant gave her a skeptical look but seemed to find her approachable manner disarming. "Well now, it's more a community effort, you might say," he said after a moment. "Got brewers scattered all about who bring me their batches to bottle and sell..."
As the portly man prattled on about his wine trade, Ona listened intently, filing away any potentially useful details about the village's layout, key facilities, and comings and goings.
As Ona delved deeper into the mysteries of Kebo, she stumbled upon a revelation that left her feeling dismayed. Despite its impressive stronghold and bustling population, Kebo was eerily self-sufficient. The warriors and their people relied solely on what they could produce within their mountainous borders, never venturing beyond their isolated haven to trade or acquire external goods.
Ona's mind raced with the implications. No imports or exports meant no caravans, no merchants, and no travelers passing through. The only people who entered Kebo were those who shared the warriors' blood oath, and the only ones who left were those who had earned their freedom – a rare occurrence, indeed.
The princess felt a pang of disappointment, realizing that her initial plan to escape via trade routes or disguise herself as a merchant was now nothing more than a pipe dream. Kebo's isolation was a double-edged sword, protecting its people from the outside world but also trapping them in a bubble of self-sufficiency.
Ona's thoughts turned to the warriors' leaders, the enigmatic figures who had brought her to this place. What secrets lay behind their piercing gaze, and what drove him to maintain such a strict isolationist policy? The more she learned about Kebo, the more questions she had, and the more determined she became to uncover why she was abducted.
Ona proceeded to embed herself deeper among the insular community of Kebo over the following days and weeks. She smiled warmly and made small talk with the villagers she encountered, actively listening for any snippets of information that could shed light on the shroud of secrets enveloping the stronghold.
In the village square, she complimented the vibrant handicrafts of a wizened weaver, initiating a conversation about the ancient textile traditions passed down over generations. As the elderly woman's eyes misted with pride, Ona deftly guided the discussion toward inquiries about resources and trade, making careful note of any helpful details that slipped through.
On another day, Ona struck up a friendly rapport with a trio of young warriors returning from a hunting expedition, applauding their prowess with the bow. As they regaled her with tales of pursuit and conquest, she adeptly steered the dialogue toward the surrounding territories and whether other villages laid beyond the mountains. Their responses were vague yet tinged with unease.
Slowly but surely, Ona began mapping out a rudimentary understanding of Kebo's isolationism. The villagers clearly revered their self-sufficiency and ancestral ways, seemingly indoctrinated to be deeply distrustful - even fearful - of the outside world. What's more, their words implied the presence of some palpable threat, real or imagined, that served as justification for Kebo's reclusive existence.
But the more Ona probed, the more maddening contradictions emerged regarding the village's rigid policies and the motivations of their paramount leader. It became a tangled web that grew more convoluted and enigmatic with every turn.
Then one evening, a chance encounter brought Ona face-to-face with a grizzled old scout returning from a long patrol. With his perpetual squint and ebonydark, leathery visage, he had the look of one more attuned to the wild than civilization. As Ona struggled to coax information from him about the world beyond Kebo's borders, he fixed her with a penetrating stare.
"Make no mistake, princess," he rasped, his voice bone-dry from decades under the scorching suns. "What lays past those mountains is a darkness that would consume us all. Count yourself fortunate to have found sanctuary here."
With those ominous words, the scout turned and melted back into the dusk, leaving Ona feeling more unsettled than before. What twisted horrors lurked out there that could petrify even the most seasoned wayfarer?
For all she knew with certainty, the people of Kebo harbored monumental secrets - secrets that could either save them or doom them once unveiled.
Ona felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as a smooth, deep familiar voice sliced through the thickening dusk behind her.
"Well, well... if it isn't our delightfully inquisitive little guest."
She whipped around, eyes blazing with hatred as they locked onto the towering figure of Tij, the man whose ironclad grip had brought her to this wretched place. His lips were curved in an infuriatingly smug smirk.
"You!" Ona spat, fists clenched. "Have you been spying on me, you grotesque warthog?"
Tij threw back his head and guffawed, the sound like stones being ground together. "Spy? On a scrawny bird like you? Don't flatter yourself, princess."
He advanced with a nauseating saunter, looming over her diminutive frame. "Though your adorable interrogations of the villagers have been quite the comedic diversion these past weeks."
Ona felt her face flush hot with indignation and embarrassment. "I was not interrogating! Merely...conversing to gain understanding."
"'Gaining understanding', she says!" Tij crowed, slapping his knee theatrically. "Do you think we're all addlepated fools here? Your pitiful attempts at subterfuge are about as subtle as a rampaging bull-rhino!"
"Why you...you..." Ona sputtered, scouring her mind for the most blistering insult. "You unkempt, malodorous, beetle-brained hyena!"
Far from being offended, Tij actually looked delighted by the creative vitriol, throwing his arms wide in a mocking shrug.
"My, such horrid words from those honeyed lips! Should I be hurt or...hungry?" He waggled his eyebrows grotesquely.
"Ugh, you're positively repulsive!" Ona turned away, flustered and fuming, when Tij's large hand clamped onto her shoulder.
"Listen well, your worshipfulness," he said, his tone becoming stern though his eyes still danced with mirth. "Your ceaseless machinations to unearth whatever 'secrets' you think are hidden here are as fruitless as trying to squeeze water from desert rocks."
Leaning in uncomfortably close, he gave Ona's shoulder a condescending pat. "So why don't you do us both a favor - stop wasting your time and settle in? This is your world now. No amount of adorable interrogating will change that."
With a final contemptuous sneer, Tij straightened and swaggered off, leaving Ona to fume amidst the reddening twilight. She wanted nothing more than to hurl her most biting rejoinder, but stifled it, glowering after his retreating form.
She would not be deterred so easily. For every insolent mockery from the likes of Tij only stiffened Ona's resolve to expose whatever truths still lay cloaked in Kebo's isolationist shadows.