Ran Orlo had been too young to understand what happened to his mother and why his uncle left. He'd heard the rumors over the years, but even now, the elders shut up whenever he walked into a room. His father had been clear that he didn't want anyone talking about the situation where any of the children could hear, and his punishment had been swift and unrelenting whenever he'd caught someone doing so.
Ran Orlo was the last of his name now. His mother's bloodline only lived in his siblings, his uncles, and him, while his birth father's only lived in Ran and his siblings. They had been great bloodlines once, Beng Shai had made sure Ran knew that. Taking time he didn't have to spare to teach Ran their histories. His uncle, the only one he knew, didn't have the patience to teach him that. Kai Low carried so much rage and sadness over his mother's death that it was more dangerous to talk about it in front of him than in front of Ran.
And Ran had never been very interested. Too young when it happened, and now that he was old enough, there was so much else to worry about. So many other things to do. They needed to rebuild, they needed to plant and harvest and hunt so they didn't starve in the coldest season. He needed to look after his younger siblings because now both their parents and their uncle were gone. Their aunt had taken Beng Shai's place and now had even less time to look after them, and many of her own siblings had died in the fighting and then the fire. It seemed that even the great Bandri, masters of the northern plains, were on the verge of dying out. Though the elders refused to admit it, Ran had overheard some of the younger warriors talking about just how many had been lost. Whole families that were missing and would never be found. The tribes of the borderlands had been decimated, used by two foreign kingdoms attempting to destroy one another, but the only ones who'd actually been destroyed were the tribes. Song and Snow had lost a good force after the fire, but not as many as the tribes. And the army from the stone fortress named after a flower had lost even less.
It seemed only the tribes were destined to suffer in these times, and it made Ran angry and confused and a bit lost in a way he didn't like. Not for the first time, he wished Beng Shai had survived. The father who had raised him had never hesitated to answer Ran's questions, not even the silly ones. He'd even been proud that Ran had so many questions. The elders didn't feel the same way. They hated being questioned by anyone, even when Ran simply wanted to understand and wasn't questioning their motives or actions at all.
Beng Shan answered them, too, but she just didn't have the time. Standing at Beng Shai's tomb together was the first time they'd managed to see one another in days.
The song on the wind had come with the desolation after the fire, but Ran only heard it at the tomb. The elders were calling it a sign of Beng Shai's divinity, and while it had everyone else in a tizzy, Ran didn't understand why it was important that Beng Shai was divine when he was already dead.
It wasn't like he was going to dig his way out of his own grave and come back to life.
What use was divinity?
It was an abstract idea that the tribes had picked up from trading partners and had little to do with everyday life, and Ran didn't have use for anything that didn't directly affect his daily quality of life. In his experience, life was hard work in the dirt, food over a fire, and the people around you, and nothing else. He didn't understand why people felt the need to waste their lives searching for more than that.
"I'm sending a letter to the stone fortress." Beng Shan said to Beng Shai's grave.
Ran Orlo glanced at her, unable to stop himself.
"We'll need supplies for the winter. The prairie will not recover in time. It seems unavoidable that we'll be in debt for a while." She paused and couldn't help but smile. "But I think that would please you. You were always so desperate to find a way to tie us to one another. If things continue this way, we may end up tied so closely together that we will never again be separated."
Ran frowned. "What do you mean, Auntie?"
Beng Shan gave him a sad smile. "We will not be able to survive the winter without them. And we have no way of knowing how long it will take for us to recover enough to live without their help. It is entirely possible that most of our people will have left to live in the villages or the stone fortress before then. If we loose to many, there will not be enough of us to survive on our own. It takes people to harvest, to hunt, to build." She sighed. Ran knew how many they'd lost.
"They will not leave. This is their home." Ran insisted. Why would anyone want to leave?
But Beng Shan shook her head. "Some will leave. Life is different in the stone cities."
"Worse," Ran said automatically, and frowned when she didn't immediately agree.
"Different." That was all she said, and before he could question her further, someone cleared their throat, and they both turned to find a man they didn't recognize watching them.
A few of their remaining warriors stood around him, tense and watchful.
The man smiled. "Greetings, Beng Shan."
She raised an eyebrow, curious. "Greetings. Who are you?"
"I am from the Camelia."
"I can see that. It does not answer my question."
He smiled. "I have a message for you."
Beng Shan sighed. "Which I will not hear if you do not tell me who you are."
He frowned, brows drawing together.
Ran had seen plenty of men try to intimidate his aunt. He'd never seen any of them succeed, and this stranger from the stone fortress wasn't going to be the first.
Beng Shan turned away when the man didn't speak. "Escort him back to the border."
The warriors seized his arms; they wouldn't risk the peace or Beng Shan's wrath by hurting him, but they weren't going to risk him getting loose either.
"Wait! Wait!" The man scowled and tried to fight their grip as they pulled him away. Ran could see the moment he realized there was nothing to do but answer Beng Shan's question. "My name is Seiza. I serve the most illustrious of the noble families of the Camelia."
Ran rolled his eyes. "That means nothing to us."
Seiza scowled. He was fragile looking man. Features soft, hands soft. Ran wondered what kind of work he did to have hands that pale. "My benefactor sent me with a message for you."
"Seiza." Beng Shan tried the name out on her tongue and decided it was true enough for now. "What is this message?"
Seiza smiled, and it made Ran recoil. Too dark and sharp to be pleasant. "If you want justice for your brother, an opportunity has arisen. Send a handful of your swords to the Camelia in two weeks, have them approach under the moon, and they will find their way to the one responsible."
~ tbc