text: I let Alessia lead the way along the shorefront. Crowds milled around. The residents walked in hurried paces, arms swaying with momentum as they walked. “Out the way!” I turned around to see a man pulling a cart. He walked towards me, showing no sign of slowing down. I managed to take a step back just in time as he flew past me, the sea of people parting as he went. I found myself tucking in my arms close to my body, trying to remain as thin as possible as we continued to weave our way through the town. I looked at the buildings as we passed. Wide windows gave a perfect view of the insides. I could see the electric bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Not a single room had a lantern for light. The desks inside the offices were made from polished wood and welded metal. Men and women sat in neat rows, their faces buried in their work. Many were still working with pens and paper, but in the background I could see people pushing buttons on a machine, printed paper emerging from the top. As we continued, the glass windows gave way to a thick stone wall. High above, painted on the side of the building was a wide mural overlooking the main thoroughfare. The image stretched the width of the structure. It was a painting of a woman. She had long, brown curly hair tied in a ponytail at the back, with round cheeks and olive skin. The painting had a soft, caring smile, but her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed. Underneath read a caption “Tima Voreef thanks you for all you do.” Underneath that was a signature. “Joan Moreno, President.” As people walked by the mural, their eyes would glance up at the painting. As they stared upon the president, her firm but encouraging smile bestowed upon them, they seemed to gain a moment’s energy. Tired backs straightened, the pace of their footsteps increased by a beat, as they continued about their resolute task I turned my attention back to Alessia, beginning to fear I might lose her in the throng. “Where are we heading then?” “Main trading hall. It’s where you’d go to buy what they had.” “Won’t there be a hundred different sellers there?” I replied, my arms and legs glancing off people. I found myself persistently raising my hands in apology. “Every sale made in that place gets approved and recorded centrally. The stuff they sell ain’t exactly fruit and bread.” Alessia turned a corner and headed to the large doors of the trading hall. As soon as we walked in, we were greeted by two tall men. They wore black waistcoats and loose white shirts. Their tall frames acted as a solid wall, blocking our passage. “What’s your purpose?” one of them said. “Inquiring about a previous sale,” Alessia replied. “Are you a resident of Ruthogrey Landfall?” “No.” “Have you ever lived on Ruthogrey Landfall?” “No.” Have you ever traded or had any business activity with any associates of Ruthogrey Landfall?” “No,” Alessia replied a third time, a hint of irritation in her voice. The man grunted. “Can you confirm you are not currently carrying any weapons or explosive materials on your person?” “Correct,” Alessia nodded. “Fine. Sign in here.” The man pointed to a book. We filled in our names and islands of birth and headed down the corridor into the trading hall. As we opened the doors, the large market sprawled out before us. The support columns marked individual selling areas. A series of rows stretched out in each direction across the cavernous space. Some were shops with shelves of merchandise. Others were open areas where you could get up close and inspect the items on offer. Some were a mere kiosk with a person behind waiting to take your order. Though there were many styles of presentation, none of them seemed unkempt or hastily put together. The market at Ringatoy Shires was a chaotic web, a thousand sellers acting independently to accidentally form a beast bigger than any one individual had conceived. But here, everything felt controlled. Some greater power made sure that no store encroached on the aisles, that the signage was consistent, and that each seller spoke at the same volume. Of course, the other key difference between here and Ringatoy was the products. Ringatoy sold knowledge. Tima Voreef sold death. I walked past an open space with large mortar shells standing on tables, the domed roofs pointing to the ceiling. People walked around them, leaning in, inspecting the metal container and the small placard of information beside it. Next to that people inspected racks of pistols. Buyers picked them up, feeling the weight of them in their hand, lifting them to eye level so they could stare down the sight. The market didn’t just sell arms. Boats, engines, electrics and an array of other innovations and inventions were all for sale. They were by-products of the coming war. Ideas that extended beyond their primary purpose of being bigger and faster than the enemy. We continued through the hall, passing the bazaar of bombs, machines, ammo and guns until we reached a large snaking queue near the northern exit. There was a long row of desks, numbers hanging over them ranging from one to fifteen. Behind each, sat a worker, their eyes buried in books in front of them, pouring over documents handed to them by the customers. One-by-one, people would walk up and present their receipts for inspection. Then, their details would be taken, and their goods delivered directly to their ship for safe travel. We waited in line for over an hour as the queue slowly cleared. As we approached the man behind the kiosk he was still scribbling down notes on the previous sale. The book in front of him was a wide ledger. A series of columns ran across the top: buyer, items purchased, quantity, island of origin, and buyer’s ship. The man held out his hand without looking up. “Receipts,” he said with an already irritated tone. “We don’t have any. We’re not buying,” Alessia replied. “We’re here to inquire about a previous purchase.” The man looked up with an arched brow, closing the book in front of him. “Do you know when you made the purchase? I’ll have to get the correct records.” “We didn’t,” Alessia said. She had a large smile on her face, one that showed teeth, where the corners of her mouth were pulled unnaturally upwards. It was a smile I had not seen from her before. An ingenuine emotion. “We were hoping to find out about a sale made to someone else, would have been approximately three months ago. It would’ve been a very large sale, large quantities of ammunition and explosives, maybe even some ships...” “If you aren’t the buyer I can’t give you that information,” the man replied flatly. “We don’t need to know the full itinerary of what was sold. We just need names and an island. That’s all.” “We don’t give out information on our customers. Confidentiality is important to our buyers,” the man’s voice did not waver. Alessia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The smile wavered slightly before she wrenched the corners of her lips up once more. “Look, the people who you sold those items to are dangerous, they aren’t using them for protection but to hurt innocent people. We need to find out who they are. Then we can be on our way.” “I’m not able to give you that information. It’s policy.” The simper cracked. The corners of the lips falling to a flat line. Alessia leaned in and spoke with a whispered rage. “Listen. I know you have your policies and your nonsense, shit reasons for not telling me, ‘cause you’re worried I’m gonna use it to hurt you or your business in some way. But the people you sold these weapons to went and wiped out an entire island. They need to be stopped.” The man leant back in his chair. “I know you may feel we’re responsible for whatever happened, but in war there are casualties on both sides...” “Oh, this wasn’t a war. It was a massacre. A whole island, not a single weapon between the whole lot of them. Then your customers rock up and kill them all, murdering the livestock, burning the crops, shooting kids as they run away. This isn’t about revenge for some war, it’s about stopping some killers who are wiping out islands with your weapons.” I looked up. At the far wall I could see a thin man. He leant back, one leg raised so that the sole of his shoe met the wall. His arms were crossed, and his head tilted back so that he inspected the world by staring down his nose. I could see his eyes turning, catching us in his peripheral vision. “You will have to leave I’m afraid,” the man behind the desk said. “I’m not going to give you that information.” “This is...” Alessia cut herself off. “Can’t you see that this is more important than whatever rules you have in place?” I stepped forward, trying to give Alessia time to breathe. “Isn’t there someone else we can talk to? Someone else who would have the necessary authority?” The man held up his hands. “As I say. You will have to leave. If you want to talk to anyone else, you can try talking to people at the headquarters. They have the same records as we do here. But I’m certain you will have no luck. The policy is what it is.” “No one here I can talk to?” Alessia said, her face red. “No.” I tapped Alessia’s shoulder. “Come on. We’ll find another way.” Alessia peeled herself away from the desk, refusing to give up eye contact with the man until we were well away from the booth. We sulked to the exit and stepped outside into the early afternoon. I couldn’t help but notice how far the sun had transitioned while we were in line waiting for useless answers. “What now?” I asked. Alessia rocked her head. “We can go see the other people, but I don’t fancy our chances.” She looked back to the building, gritting her teeth. “How do you feel about theft?” I took a step back. “Surely we should exhaust our other options first. Let’s go to the headquarters, see what they say...” I was interrupted by a voice behind me. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion inside.” I turned around to see the man who had been leaning against the wall behind the kiosk. No longer slouching, I could make out his tall, stick-like frame. His skin was so pale it seemed almost translucent in the bright light, and except for long gray hair at the back of his neck, he was otherwise bald. “We were after information about a purchase a while back.” “Yes. We don’t normally share that kind of information...” the man said slowly. “Uh huh. Your friend inside made that pretty clear.” Alessia folded her arms. “*Normally*,” the man added. “Certain exceptions can be made for cooperative individuals.” “Cooperative individuals?” Alessia repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Yes. I would be able to procure that information for you.” “And you are...?” Alessia asked. The man smiled with teeth less white than his skin. “My name’s Runar. I work with the government here on Tima Voreef. I’m not in the cabinet, you won’t see my name on any documents, but I have the ear of the president herself if needs be.” “If you can get the president to allow us to see who made that purchase...” I said. “Oh. There’s no need to bother the president herself with this. She would have no problem with me giving the information to you. Especially after you are willing to do us a favour.” Alessia let out a cackle. “Yeah, I assumed that was coming. What do you need?” “I assume you came on a ship?” “Uh huh.” “What type?” “Small trading vessel. B class,” Alessia said, taking a step forward. “Ah, perfect. Perhaps you could walk me to it. So I can see.” Runar pointed behind us down the quay. “This way?” He began walking along the promenade slowly. Alessia and I followed him through the crowds. “And what do you want with my ship?” Alessia asked. “Oh, I don’t think we should discuss that here. Too many ears.” Runar waved a hand at the crowds around us. “Let’s see your ship first.” I looked at Alessia, uncertain what she wanted to do. She shrugged and turned back to the man, following him. After a few minutes’ walk, Alessia pointed to her ship and we walked over. I expected the man to merely stand on the edge and peer down. However, he turned around instead and climbed down the ladder to the boat, unencumbered by his age or formal-fitted clothes. Alessia opened her mouth to protest, but by the time she could muster words, he was already descending towards the boat. “Yes. This is a lovely ship you have,” he said stepping on board. Alessia arrived a couple of seconds after him. “Well it’s not for sale,” she said through slitted lips. “Oh no. I don’t need this boat. We have plenty.” He pointed to the giant ship I had seen when we first landed. “No. I want you to make a delivery for us.” “There are a lot of merchants here. You could pay anyone to make that trip,” I said. “Indeed. But sometimes there are better currencies than mere money. A favour for money doesn’t feel right. A favour for a favour seems like a much better trade.” “So what? You want us to deliver cargo you can’t get a normal merchant ship to send. This is all unofficial?” Alessia said. “Correct.” “And why’s that?” “Because you’ll be making a delivery to Ruthogrey Landfall.” Alessia burst out laughing. “Fuck off. There are more guns and cannons pointing across that stretch of ocean than anywhere else in the world. I’m not crossing that.” “Oh. I can assure you that no one from either island will harm you. You will have documentation to pass any checkpoints on both islands.” I cocked my head. “But why is Tima Voreef sending a delivery to Ruthogrey Landfall anyway?” “Sometimes, in order to stave off war, you must make certain compromises. We return to them something they want so that we may avoid conflict.” I waited for Alessia to respond, but she was still chuckling in disbelief. I shook my head. “You could be sending anything. It could be a bomb. You let us get there and then blow them and us up.” “You’ll be able to see very clearly it’s not a bomb.” “So what is it then?” Alessia interrupted. “What is it we’re taking for you to your sworn enemy?” Runar looked around, ensuring no one had stopped by on the promenade to listen in. Satisfied, he leaned closer. “You’ll be returning a prisoner.” \ Next chapter released August 19th.