A Tica'Ma Welcome

After a few days’ decidedly tense travel, we arrived at Tica’Ma. I’ve flown over the Green Sea before en route to my various assignments, and the sight of it never fails to amaze me. Sweeping waves of grass like the windswept fur of a great beast, a roiling, emerald forest. Who knows what wild secrets it conceals within, what untold mysteries have been choked by the verdant waves?
 
Tica’Ma itself is a bustling industrial city state, its position between a number of world powers making it a hotbed of activity and technological integration. These advancements follow the flow of capital, though—the ingenuitive tram only chugs around the center of the city, where the wealthy residents live, and the northern reaches of the place are marked by a sizable four-pronged prison; the Oprishniki have their own active presence here, and I would not be surprised to see their people crawling about the place. I was sure to draw a sketch of the place as we wheeled overhead.
 
I was glad to see a place where Seela and Crayvon, as I learned their names to be, might be deposited. The Nagimi are a people with webs of familial support all over Embarial. I should know—many of them are Blades informants! Surely they will be able to locate some friendly faces and proceed from there. I still have justice to wreak upon the foolish mayor who set us upon their caravan to begin with—but this is a start. Seela, the woman, attempting adamantly to refuse a sum of money I offered, but my insistence paid off: they ought to have a little over a week’s worth to manage. It’s the least I can do, for repentance; payment may secure the state of the body, but it achieves nothing for the soul.
 
Upon getting closer to landing, we discovered that the docks were quite full, a swarming hive of activity. I wondered if this was the norm for this place, or whether the hustle and bustle was unusual. No matter, I thought—it offered the perfect chance to circle about and surveil the city from above!
 
Upon doing this, I got what might be an answer from Azon to my previous question: the buzz about the city was for a certain show taking place, “Kur’Dil and the Mystery Child.” I am not much one for the mundane arts, but Azon’s tone of voice seemed to indicate this show is quite the event! Perhaps I might even watch it someday, if given the opportunity; for now, I had far more pressing matters to attend to.
 
More so than I thought, apparently, for in that moment the ship jolted and a glance out the window revealed a dire threat: another fell murder of crows, fanatical in their attack on the airship. Kyliko took the wheel from the dead helmsman as the vessel shuddered again, and I saw a slain crow crumpled at his feet. There was no saving the ship from plummeting. Kyliko told me to go, and I was torn for but a moment before realizing there were innocents to see to safety.
 
In the drop hangar, the 3rd Drop Corps had already mobilized and begun to evacuate in midair with their flight suits. My path and Azon’s collided as we escorted Seela and Crayvon through the decks.
 
I needed no flight suit—heights ceased bothering me long ago. But such technology would be useful for ferrying civilians. I watched Azon root through the storeroom as the airship began to plunge. He withdrew a flight suit in moments, but I watched a look of confusion come over his face as he threw it back in and retrieved another, then the same for another, and another:
 
They had been sabotaged! My stomach dropped as I realized most of the Drop Commandos had already jumped ship, anticipating the technology of the flight suits to aide them. I sought desperately to gather myself as thoughts swarmed my mind of them attempting to activate a faulty suit as they fell, waiting for a breath of wind that would never come…
 
Focus! One path forward, then. I would see Crayvon to the ground, and Azon would use the rappel cables built into the ship to do the same with Seela. Without another moment’s hesitation, I took the boy in my arms and hurled myself from the ship.
 
The wind roared in our ears and mingled with his cries as we fell through the open air, before the familiar pneumatics of my magitech cable hissed and my line found purchase in the roof of a nearby building. We pendulumed back and forth for a moment before I swung to the ground, sticking the landing. Perfect technique!
 
No time to waste, though—I watched the airship careen into the Green Sea, swarmed by crows and burning smoke marking its wake. Kyliko was still in there! I told Crayvon to meet me at the nearby church if he was able, leaving him with a guard upon the Green Sea’s outer walls. These folks seem to always expect a fight; the thick walls were heavily patrolled, and marked regularly with crank guns, growling, multibarreled things which can spew a river of bullets in a matter of seconds. I chose to take their presence as a point of comfort, and vaulted over the walls of Tica’Ma into the Green Sea.
 
My mind raced as I rushed through the thick grass. Had the mark on my body brought the crows upon us? Could they still see my movements now? Had I brought death upon this crew?
 
Who had sabotaged the suits?!
 
So deep in thought was I that I barely noticed the grasses curling themselves around my body, seeking to suffocate me! Cloudpiercer blazed about me as I cut a swath to the fallen airship. The grass was not my only enemy, though—when I reached the ship in its burning clearing, I saw swarming about it a chittering mass of giant ants! The realization of why the crank guns speckled the wall hit me like a wave. I was not too late, though; inside, I heard the sounds of struggle. Kyliko’s voice! Hardly daring to wade through the fire and mandibles—my dying here would just about mean both our deaths—I instead called for him to use his ice breath to clear a path and tame the fires somewhat. Wether he heard me over the din or his own ingenuity struck him in that particular moment, a blast of ice shattered the bridge’s window and doused some of the fire for but a moment. That opening was all I needed! I shot my grapple towards him and he clung on as I wrenched him from the wreckage. I heard him yell as he emerged from the ants’ clutches, and looked to see his legs mangled and bloody. Escape would prove to be very difficult.
 
Behind us, the tide of ants began to close in. In the distance before us, I heard a klaxon and shouting on the wall. Such a commotion I could hear it over the fire and the clicking legs! I couldn’t make out their exact words, but I realized with a start exactly what they were saying when the crank guns swiveled our way. I leapt from the wreckage of the ship, Kyliko in tow, just as the crank guns roared to life. The Sea was cut apart by the deluge of bullets, the dirt pulverized as if by a relentless rain, the giant ants torn limb from chitinous limb.
 
Jarred as I was by landing with both myself and the injured Kyliko, I could not bring my sword to bear now as the grasses closed around us, and I felt it swallow us as if it were alive, and ravenous. I saw now not blades of grass, but a million snakes hissing and undulating in the wind, eager to squeeze the life out of us.
 
And then the world was dark and silent. I felt Kyliko stir beside me, similarly restrained by the grass—but alive! Despite our current situation, I had managed to deliver a young boy to safety and pull my traveling companion from a deadly wreckage. My feats today were nothing short of astounding.
 
Still, pride is difficult to muster in such dire straits. Who had betrayed the Drop Corps, sabotaged the suits? Had any of the soldiers survived the fall? Great Spirits, would those guards on the wall even have seen our escape and come to rescue us?? What seemed like an eternity passed, and I remembered one particular lesson of Izem’s.
 
My master constructed a gauntlet of obstacles he enjoys pitting his students against, a sort of agility course. One day, as a young buck who had just completed my Ceremony of Steel, I arrived at the course with more swagger than ever, making it farther than ever! I felt the wind at my back and fire in my heart as I scaled the oiled wall, skipped across the river stones, danced through the swinging pendulums. I crossed what I assumed to be the finish line with a puffed chest and outstretched arms… before I realized the finish line was in fact a snare trap which strung me up before I could even shout “Victory!” Izem’s lesson was clear: a battle is not won when I have proven myself worthy and accomplished feats to write poems about and written my name in the history books. A battle is won when the enemy forces are destroyed. A fight over when it is over, and not a moment before. And this fight, now, it would seem, is not over.
 
As if to confirm my suspicions, a soft voice could be heard overhead as Kyliko and I, still cocooned, were lifted from the Green Sea, the grasses hissing behind us as they saw us go…
 
May the Great Spirits watch me through the gleam of my sword, enlighten me in the hidden places of the world, guide me in the words of the strangers I've yet to make familiar, and bless me in the light of sun and moon. May they walk in the stride of those I walk amongst, and touch the world through the hands of my companions. May their deeds echo in my actions and their will echo in my wishes. May I honor them in the paths I follow and the waters I tread and the mountains I climb. I am but a transient pilgrim walking the tracks of this past and future world, my blood the blood of my lord and my father and my people.