Mornings in Aradack were quiet. Most hushed were the mornings like this, after a night of a Kariao when everyone stayed on their beds, still drunk, full, and smiling. Only the roosters crowed on the lands as the winds breathed life into the rising light.

But Jiro's hut was an exception. Nana Ricka had woken him up to help with the chores before the sun rose.

Despite the thumping headache, Jiro had been obedient, getting out of bed and sitting in the kitchen for breakfast.

Nana Ricka set a bowl of soup in front of him. Salty tinola made from the shoulder of the nouse he'd hunted.

"You're like your father." Nana Ricka laughed, the sound filling the hut. "He was also a bad drunk. Couldn't hold his ramka."

Jiro's head throbbed as he dipped his face into the warm steam of the soup and took a sip of the salty broth. "I saw the Eskolar last night," he said after swallowing. He remembered the odd encounter, how he had stared at the woman's burning gaze, rooted and enchanted where he stood.

"The Kariao was for them. It would be strange as bright skies with rain if the Eskolar or the Maestra weren't there." Nana Ricka was already doing her daily work, taking her winnowing basket and setting herself at the table across from Jiro. She poured some rice grains into the basket and started to flip them in the air, then catching them and doing it again over and over until she could see the whites separated from the chaff.

"She didn't look like an Eskolar. She wore our clothes and was barefoot like an Aradacko," Jiro said after taking another sip.

Nana Ricka set the woven basket on the table and picked at the grains. "I saw the thread of bones she wore when she arrived yesterday. She's Darish."

His brows rose. "You saw that?"

Nana Ricka nodded. "A Maharlika becoming an Eskolar in Kazima. At the Ozaro Palace. And she's very young too. That's a good sign."

Jiro pursed his lips. Darish were like the Aradacko, having the same culture and blood, born to be warriors. It wasn't rare for a Maharlika to become an Eskolar, but a Maharlika being an Eskolar in the Ozaro Palace meant more. Not so many years ago, the Maharlika were seen only for their strength, better fit to be soldiers or guards. Only in the last three years were they accepted to become learned, and Eskolar Kida was a sign that they were getting the respect they deserved.

"She looked at me," Jiro said, remembering the morning when the Eskolar and the Maestra arrived. The younger woman had gazed at him, had given him a look of familiarity, the same way she did at the Kariao. "She stared at me."

Nana Ricka looked up. "Maybe she's cursed you." Then she smiled, teasing.

"Mama!" Jiro scowled, the hairs on his arms rising.

Nana Ricka laughed, flicking a pinch of chaff in his direction. "When your father was your age, he also thought that all girls, even older women, looked at him."

Jiro's mother didn't believe him, and she might be right. Maybe he'd only imagined it all. He sighed, leaving it at that and finishing his tinola.

A rap came at the door, and they both looked up at the same time.

"See who that is," Nana Ricka said.

Jiro stood and walked out of the kitchen, passing the woven tapestry in the hallway. When he opened the door, Amaku, a boy Jiro's age, stood behind it.

"Jiro," Amaku said. "Beautiful blue skies, Nana Ricka." He looked past Jiro and peeked at Nana Ricka, who followed from the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Jiro asked.

"The Kavisera asked me to tell you that he wants you to be at the Maestra's tent today at noon."

"Do they need help carrying things again?" Jiro asked. "Can't anyone else do it? I'm not feeling well."

"You should go, Jiro," Nana Ricka spoke from behind him, and Jiro turned to see her wiping her hands with a rag.

"I'm heading to Hako's right now," Amaku added. "He and his father are invited, too. They can probably do the work if you're not up to it, but I don't know why the Kavisera wants you there. He only said that you should come."

"Jiro will go," Nana Ricka insisted. "He'll be there. Thank you, Amaku."

"Alright," Amaku inclined his head in a casual nod. Then he flew off the veranda without waiting for Jiro's protest. "See you around, Jiro," he shouted back when he was already in the air.

"I don't want to go, mama." Jiro turned to his mother. "I've already helped in carrying those heavy barrels yesterday. My shoulders are sore, and my head hurts."

"You'll be fine by noon, and it's not what you think."

"What do you mean?" Jiro asked. He recalled how his mother spoke with the Kavisera last night, they whispered in low voices, and he hadn't heard anything from their conversation. Could it have something to do with that?

"Go, and you'll find out for yourself. It's something that will bring you honor. It will make me proud, and if your father were alive, it would make him proud, too." Nana Ricka smiled and said nothing else, returning to the kitchen to continue her work.

✧

Jiro flew down to the valley below when the sun was hot and high. He walked to the Maestra's tent, a temporary shelter of fabric and poles. Two guards in green uniforms flanked the entryway, bolos hanging at their belts.

Jiro stopped before them. "Beautiful blue skies," he said.

The guards looked at Jiro, but they didn't answer. One of them turned and walked into the tent. After a moment, he came back to stand on his post.

The Kavisera peeked out. "Jiro, come inside." He waved for him to follow.

Jiro hesitated, glancing at the guards before he followed and entered the tent. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw others seated in a circle on bamboo chairs.

Hako and Tata Ero were there, wearing only their trousers and armbands. They shared a seat on a wooden bench across from the Maestra in her red karkan and the Eskolar in her baro't saya, cream top, and dark brown skirt.

"You're late," Hako glared at him.

Late for what?

Jiro raised his brows, confused. He expected laborious work, but as he observed them, the expectation faded. The setting reminded him of a time before he became a tracker when he attended study sessions, and all he had to do was sit all day and listen.

"That's alright. Come and sit so we can begin." The Eskolar gestured. "This is Jiro?"

The Kavisera nodded. "Yes."

When Jiro looked at the Eskolar, her eyes were no longer fiery as they had been the night before, and there was something different about her gaze today. It was not as mesmerizing or as enchanting as it had been. It didn't root Jiro to his spot. There was something soft in how she watched him, making him feel comfortable, trusting.

The Kavisera sat down first, and Jiro found an empty chair beside him.

"My name is Kida," the Eskolar started, a bandage wrapped around her finger, which Jiro hadn't noticed before. "I am an Eskolar from the Ozaro Palace in Kazima. And this is Master Hatari, Keeper of Knowledge and Keeper of the Head. By order of the Kahani, we're here to hire hunters and trackers to find a person."

"A person? Why not hire a mercenary or a bounty hunter?" Tata Ero asked.

"We require people of principle, trustworthy of the knowledge we are about to impart," The Maestra answered. "Your Kavisera assured us that you are." She pressed a hand to her chest where woven vines curled below the neckline of her karkan.

"We hunt animals, not people," Tata Ero said.

"Yes, but we believe your talents may be applied here." Eskolar Kida edged on her seat, raising her chin to match the men's towering heights.

"If you think otherwise, you are free to leave before we share more specifics." Master Hatari mirrored the Eskolar's posture.

None of the men said a word.

The Maestra bobbed her head with approval. "The Kahani wants you to find a soldier lost during the Sulunese War."

"Why?" Hako said.

"The Kahani would like to commend this soldier for her heroism," Master Hatari said.

Hako gave the woman a humph, a breath between snort and irritation. "We fought during the Sulunese War." His face twisted with annoyance. "Many of us died that day on Kimracka. We've received no commendation from the Kahani or the Kaharaza."

"Hako." Tata Ero's voice was stern with a warning, but his son ignored him.

"You're telling us that the Kahani wants us to look for a bastard soldier so that she can praise her? You Maginoo must think we're stupid. That's not the reason why the Kahani wants to find this person," Hako continued.

Jiro thought the same. Did they think the Aradacko would believe such a lie?

"My brother died in that war. He was never acknowledged by any royal shit from your high royal Maginoo palace in Kazima." Hako's voice grew sharp.

Frustration took hold of Jiro. His father died in the Sulunes War, and his body burnt in Kimracka. Many of the Rakitt Maharlika never came back from that trip. A pang of resentment came, and he, too, wanted to voice out his emotions, but he clenched his jaw and held his tongue. Hako had already said enough for all of them.

"Don't raise your voice at our guests, and don't speak ill of the royal family," the Kavisera said. Though his tone was calm, his silver eyes gave caution.

"It's alright," Eskolar Kida said, gesturing a hand for Hako and the Kavisera to stay calm. "I share your sorrow. I ask that you can find it in yourself to forgive this failure to acknowledge your great service and sacrifice for Daracka."

The Maestra raised a graying eyebrow at the Eskolar, but she said nothing.

The younger woman continued. "For that, I offer you this." She reached for the pin at her throat, the golden flower with smooth green stones—the insignia for the Eskolars.

Hako glared at her when she stood and offered the jewelry. When he didn't move, his father left his seat to accept it. "Thank you. This will honor my son's death," Tata Ero said, taking the pin and sitting back beside Hako.

Eskolar Kida bowed to him, pressing her right hand to her chest where her heart was and bending low to show much respect.

Jiro felt the silence in the room. A woman of high status showing great regard to a Maharlika was astonishing. Though, like them, she was also a bridge between classes—Maharlika and Masters. Jiro raised his head, grateful for her action.

"We should proceed then," Master Hatari spoke, bringing them back to the conversation as Eskolar Kida returned to her seat.

"Wait!" Someone outside the tent shouted. The fabric of the entryway ruffled, and a woman came charging in. The guards who stood on their posts were now rushing to follow her, grabbing her by the arms.

"Mariko!" The Kavisera exclaimed. "Let her go," he said to the guards, standing from his seat and toppling his chair. But they didn't obey him, and they continued to drag her.

Everyone else, including Jiro, stood at the disturbance.

"It's alright," Eskolar Kida said, trying to calm everyone. "Release her," she ordered the guards, and they obeyed.

Mariko shoved forward, almost stumbling with her momentum, but she righted herself and stood steady.

"What are you doing?" The Kavisera asked Mariko.

"Why didn't you choose me?" she said, out of breath, short hair tousled over her face.

"What?"

"Why didn't you choose me? I'm as good as any of these warriors. Why didn't you choose me?" she repeated.

The Kavisera blinked and looked baffled, losing his words at Mariko's questions.

"The Kahani asked for hunters and trackers," the Maestra was the one to answer. "We're not looking for warriors, Gat..." she hesitated with the name, "Mariko."

"I'm not a lady, not a Gat. I am a Maharlika. If you want my qualification, I can claim that I'm a Rakitt Maharlika, and I'm the fastest flyer in this tent," Mariko told them, her eyes passing over all their faces, challenging.

"Why would we need a fast flyer?" Eskolar Kida asked.

"Isn't that why you're in Aradack?" Mariko said. "To hire flyers. Otherwise, you'd be elsewhere. You said it yourself; our talents may be applied here."

"You were listening?" Tata Ero noted.

"I have good hearing, too." The side of Mariko's lips curved up.

"Do you vouch for this woman, Kavisera?" Eskolar Kida asked.

The Kavisera gave Mariko a long regarding look before he nodded slowly. "I do."

"Then I don't see why not," the Eskolar said, already returning to sit down.

Mariko grinned. The Maestra looked annoyed but agreed anyway. Tata Ero, Hako, and Jiro stayed silent and returned to their seats. The Kavisera offered Mariko his chair, and he remained standing.

"Very well," the Maestra said, composing herself. "The Kahani wants to hire you to find a soldier who served during the Sulunese War. She fought on Bickra and survived."

"Survived?" Finally, a word escaped Jiro's lips, and everyone turned to him. "The stories tell that no one survived on Bickra."

"You mean the soldier escaped the island before the Brilliance?" the Kavisera asked, and it dawned on Jiro that even the man didn't know the particulars of the task.

"You mean she abandoned her comrades?" Tata Ero added.

"A deserter!" Hako cried. The scar on his nose wrinkled with his cringe.

"No," Eskolar Kida answered. "The soldier was on the island when the Brilliance happened. She survived."

"But how?" Jiro asked. It was impossible to have survived the Brilliance, the blast that obliterated an island and ended the war. He hadn't seen what happened to Bickra with his own eyes, but he'd heard the stories many times. All the descriptions were vivid—the island itself had died. Everything on it turned to blackened ash—even the lakar in its soil was extinguished.

The Maestra didn't answer the question. "This may be difficult to comprehend, but the Kahani would not order this if it were impossible. Do you not trust your Kahani?"

No one spoke, and Jiro knew they all thought the same thing. A small part of him wanted to say that he didn't trust the Kahani and that the last time they gave faith to someone from the Ozaro Palace had made them lose too much. And this story of a girl surviving the Brilliance was difficult to believe. Confusion masked their faces.

Only two other people in the tent didn't look surprised at what the Eskolar said, the Maestra and Mariko. As soon as Jiro noticed, he continued to observe Mariko, stealing glances at her whenever he could.

"The soldier's name is either Arana or Zahara," Eskolar Kida continued. "They both served with a company in Bickra under Kapitan Garvan."

"Why two names?" Tata Ero asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There were two soldiers," the Eskolar answered. "One survived while the other died. We don't know which one."

"Why look for her only now?" Tata Ero sat taller as he asked the question.

"We can't tell you why," Eskolar Kida said.

"You will only know what we wish you to know," the Maestra added.

Jiro became uneasy with all the secrecy and doubted if he wanted to be a part of this.

"The girl should be around the age of six years over her first decade," Eskolar Kida continued.

Sixteen? Jiro's brows shot up. Two years younger than him. The Sulunese War ended two years ago, which meant that she had only been four years over her first decade when she served as a soldier—only a child.

Masks of bewilderment covered all their faces except for the three women. Mariko's jaw clenched, looking more angry than confused.

"When you find the soldier, you will escort her to the Ozaro Palace in Kazima. Look for Master Kazuri. You will receive a reward of five hundred heds," the Eskolar explained, and everyone seemed to have held their breaths. Five hundred gold coins were enough to buy an island.

Who was this soldier they were looking for? Why was she this important?

"Why do you think we want money? What will we do with it?" It was Hako who asked the question, the same bitterness coiled in his voice.

It was true. The Aradacko didn't care for money. They traded goods and lived on what they could take from the land. Five hundred heds meant little for them.

"It's five hundred heds," the Maestra repeated.

"We are not like the Maginoo, Maestra. Money is only valuable off this island, but here, we live on our abilities to survive," the Kavisera explained, shifting his weight to one leg as he stood beside Mariko's chair.

"Then perhaps a position in the Keepers Council will interest you," the Eskolar offered.

"What are you doing?" the Maestra said.

The Eskolar turned to the older woman. "The Kahani wanted us to do what was necessary." Then she turned back to the Aradacko. "A position in the Matu's Court when he comes of age to be the Kaharaza."

Master Hatari's face turned grim. She disagreed with Eskolar Kida's offer, but she didn't contradict it.

Jiro saw Tata Ero's lips part as if he was about to say something, but Mariko spoke first. "So we're all going to be a part of the Kaharaza's Court if we find this soldier?"

"No," Eskolar Kida said. Then she looked at Jiro, and something bright flashed in her eyes. "Only one. The one who will deliver the soldier to the Ozaro Palace."

"You expect us to work by ourselves?" Hako asked.

"My son and I will work together," Tata Ero said, meeting Hako's gaze. "And I will bring my youngest with us," he added, then looked to Jiro regretfully.

"The purpose of asking only a few of you to take this task is to keep things discrete," the Maestra protested. "You cannot bring another with you."

"He is my son. He will know otherwise," Tata Ero said, meeting the Maestra's glare.

"It should be alright," Eskolar Kida said. "But your Kavisera had given funds to provide only three nyxes."

"I'll pay for two more." The Kavisera glanced at Mariko, and she gave him a simple nod.

"Very well, you are all given time to think. Once you have decided, you may leave immediately," the Eskolar told them. The Maestra huffed an irritated breath but gave no argument, seeming to comprehend that this was how they would get the Aradacko to take the task.

"We don't need to think about it," Tata Ero said with determination.

"Nor I," said Mariko. "But I will need time to prepare before I leave."

None of them asked other questions, and Jiro kept his inquiries to himself.

How will I find this soldier with so little information? Only two names, her age and her captain's name.

Am I capable of finding a person?

Where will I even begin to look? But this last question was already answered by one of his own tracking rules; start looking for tracks in the place where the animal was last seen. In this case, the soldier was last heard of on the island of Bickra.

Everyone looked at Jiro, and he realized that they were waiting for his response. He swallowed.

Accepting the task meant that he would leave Aradack, which he had never done before, and he would need to leave his mother behind. But she told him of this and the honor it would bring him. It would make her proud, and he remembered how she had spoken of his father. It would make him proud, too.

That was what he needed and wanted to give them, and all doubt inside him faded. "I accept the task."

✧

After leaving the Maestra's tent, Jiro flew home to tell his mother what happened. Though the Eskolar had told them not to share any details of the task, he would impart it with Nana Ricka. He expected that she already knew. After speaking with the Kavisera the night before, she should have already known.

"Mama?" Jiro called as soon as he landed on the veranda.

He came inside and found her mother cooking in the kitchen. The smell of roasted meat played in his nostrils, and his stomach growled.

"Well?" Nana Ricka looked at Jiro, holding a two-prong fork slicked with oil.

"Did you know about it?" Jiro asked, standing in the kitchen a few steps from his mother.

"Not all. The Kavisera came to me last night. He asked for my permission and said that the Kahani is looking to hire trackers, and you are the best one he knows. At first, I didn't care for it. After what happened to your father—" She shook her head. "Why should I let them take my only son from me? But I think this will be a good opportunity for you to do something more. To achieve more." She glanced at his armband, where a single feather fluttered with a soft wind that came in through the window. Beneath the zarok cloth, his tattoos aligned in parallel lines, crawling over his upper arm. "Did you accept it?"

Jiro nodded, and she grinned, but he didn't return the smile. He was still confused and maybe even a little afraid of leaving the only home he had ever known and the only family he had remaining.

"What's wrong?" Nana Ricka asked, studying his face. "You don't want to do it, do you?"

"I do," Jiro answered, finding some truth in his words. "I just... I'm not sure if I can do it."

Nana Ricka stared before she began to nod with comprehension. "You're afraid."

A shaky breath escaped Jiro's lips, a sigh. "I am," he admitted.

His mother turned a skewered meat on the fire to cook its other side. Oil bubbled on the flesh and dripped on the coal, sizzling on impact. The smoke carried the rich roasted aroma, invading all corners of the small hut.

The inside of Jiro's mouth watered, and his belly grumbled, but he ignored them, keeping his attention to his mother.

She set aside the serving fork before she looked back at Jiro. "I want to show you something." She crossed the room and, in two strides, reached a table pushed up against the wall.

Something hid among the bowls of freshly harvested vegetables—something Jiro had not seen immediately. Nana Ricka picked it up, weighing it in her hand—long and wrapped in fabric. She held it close to her for a moment before raising it to him.

He took it, feeling its hefty length. He unwrapped the cloth and revealed a blade, a knife he hadn't seen for two years and thought he would never see again. Intricate vines and thorns were carved on its green jadeite handle. He unsheathed it and exposed its delicate, sharp end. Though aged, it was flawless. It was a kampit, the weapon of a Rakitt Maharlika.

"Father's knife?" Jiro's voice cracked in his throat.

Nana Ricka smiled sadly.

"I thought it was lost in Kimracka." His voice was a whisper, and his breath came heavy.

Nana Ricka shook her head and watched Jiro. "Your father didn't take his kampit when he went to war. He left the knife with me and told me to give it to you someday." She sighed with a heavy breath. "It was like he knew he wouldn't come back." She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips, trying to control them.

Grief took over like a wave. Learning that his father wanted to give the kampit to Jiro made him feel undeserving. All his worth slipped through the cracks on the bamboo flooring, falling off the cliff, and he wanted to drop too. To hide away his shame and cover his cowardness.

The Rakitt Maharlika had always been the protectors of their kingdom, even as their numbers dwindled. They were more than warriors, more than fighters who could soar above the mountains and beyond the clouds, and more than soldiers. They were Maharlika, the true blood of Daracka.

Jiro was a Maharlika by birth but was no warrior, not even a hunter—only a tracker. He couldn't live up to his father, who had been one of the best. Even now, with a simple task to find a soldier, he was scared, doubtful, and unsure of himself.

"I can't take this." He pushed the blade back into its sheath. "I'm not a Rakitt Maharlika."

"I know," Nana Ricka said, and Jiro looked at her face, soft and caring. "It's not what you want. And just like your father, you know what you want. He was your age when he dreamed of being a Rakitt Maharlika. He became one after only a year. One of the youngest." She raised her chin proudly. "On the night of his acceptance, he asked me to dance for the first time. He told me that he had always been brave and motivated enough to become deserving of his kampit, but it took him months to find the courage to tell me that he liked me."

The image of his father being afraid of courtship made Jiro smile—an almost laugh escaped his lips, and his mother mirrored the expression.

"When he left for Kimracka with the others, I have never seen more fear in his eyes. I didn't want him to go, but it was his duty. He told me he wasn't doing it for the glory, not even for the kingdom. He was doing it for us. For you, Jiro." The smile fell away from her face, and her silver eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "Your father had many fears, but he always found his courage. You are like him, my son. I'm sure you will find your reason when you're ready."

Jiro searched his mother's face for that bravery. He believed her, but he couldn't find the boldness that would allow him to take on the task.

As if Nana Ricka heard Jiro's thoughts, she spoke, "You don't have to take the Kahani's task if you don't want to."

He looked at the kampit again, memorizing the design of the stone hilt. "It's beautiful," he whispered as his eyes traced every curve of carved vines and thorns. "Thank you, mama." This time, he tucked the gift into his chest with gratitude. He gave her a tight embrace, squeezing her shoulders before letting go.

He had made his decision: I will withdraw from the task.

Nana Ricka frowned. Deep lines formed between her brows as she pressed her hand to her chest.

"Mama?" Jiro placed the kampit on the table and held his mother by her shoulders to keep her steady on her feet.

Nana Ricka coughed. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm fine. I—" She tried to speak, but she coughed again into her palm, and it came away with blood. The expulsion of air from her lungs made her croak, and without warning, she fell forward, her eyes dropping closed.

Jiro caught her before she hit the floor. "Mama!" he cried, cradling her. "Mama!"

.