Until today, the farthest I had ever traveled was to a trading post to the east, further down the Maiu Hatun, when I was less than a dozen solar years younger. The purpose was for a mundane affair, and audit conducted by my father, Suntu, inspecting the fortress and collecting the quipus that cataloged what was stored there. My brother, Anaimi, and I would play in the nearby river, or race through the rainforest. I would look across the waters of the Maiu Hatun to the south, and an insatiable curiosity burned within me, beckoning me towards unseen lands and undiscovered people just beyond our reach. An explorer's spirit yearned to break free, shattering the boundaries of my existence... whatever it truly meant to be an adventurer.
Knowing the status of my father and family, I knew that was next to impossible, as they would never allow a girl of my position and stature to ever put herself in risky, life-threatening situations. Therefore, the idea of traveling to the capital city would have filled me with unparalleled excitement any other time in my life. However, having it thrust upon me seemingly out of nowhere left me confused and angry. It seems like a calculated move by my father, a way to cast me aside and teach me a lesson for daring to challenge his authority. As I mull this over, a mischievous chuckle escapes my lips. If he truly intends to quell my rebellious spirit, he will soon discover that this journey only ignites the flames of defiance within me, growing stronger the further I get from home.
Since the start of our trek, Anqatil has not said a word to me nor the elderly woman; the last she spoke was in the presence of my father and the nobles back in Chopaqte. Anqatil looks unamused by the entire experience of the journey, and doesn't appear to be deep in thought about anything particular. She just looks... bored, appearing as though this trip is entirely beneath her — quite literally for most of the trip, I might add — and that she'd rather be anywhere else, with anyone else. I squint, as if narrowing my eyes and concentrating will aid me in figuring out what is going on inside her head, but as you might expect, my attempt is unsuccessful.
As the palanquins weave through the winding valley and approach Qapauma, however, all of my outrage and indignation melts away in an instant. The city feels as if it was built for giants: The walls, made from enormous, gray boulders the size of a few tapirs, are easily two or three times the size of the walls in Chopaqte, giving the impression they touch the sky. As if that weren't tall enough, several buildings lord over the walls and rival the height of the nearby mountains. It takes me a few beats to realize they're guard towers, containing several men clad in simple orange and red tunics of the Tapeu colors, containing very minimal patterns in the design. Even with the monotone stones used in all construction, the city has a preternatural glimmer in the setting sun, giving it a transcendental presence. I can't tell if it's the altitude or the architecture — or that this means we've reached the end of the long journey — but the sight takes my breath away, enhanced by the evening glow or my exhaustion from the travels.
The people of Qapauma clear the wide road to make way for the procession of palanquins parading through the gates. I assume such a spectacle must be a common occurrence because hardly anyone acknowledges our arrival. With the towering buildings several stories high, they are like ants scurrying around their mounds, all more concerned about carrying on with whatever chore or activity they were engaged with before we interrupted them. For citizens of the capital — and being Tapean, to boot — their outfits are surprisingly plain: Unlike my people back in Achope, hardly any of the commoners wear any jewelry or other embellishments, primarily sticking to eggshell white or beige tunics and long dresses with plain leather sandals.
Several narrow passageways jut out from the main road, which is wide enough to have multiple wagons pass by one another and still not be disrupted by the people bustling about. Slowly emerging into view is a larger-than-life stone building adorned in orange-and-red banners with purple and gold trim. The guards here also have tunics made of orange and red, but they wear bronze helmets adorned with red feathers, the polished metal reflects the sun's bright rays, and I imagine the headwear must be too heavy and cumbersome to be anything but decorative. As the building grows in size, I observe several more wide roads leading to it from different angles and directions. These must be other main roads that lead to more key locations, but I can't be certain of the precise destination. I attempt to ask Anqatil about the reasoning behind the city's layout and the guards' outfits, but she only continues looking ahead onto what I am left to assume is our destination.
YOU ARE READING
Revolutions
FantasyAt long last, the oppressive rule of the titans has ended. We are finally free, thanks to the sacrifice of The Eleven, who unified a fractured land and used their supernatural powers to defeat the Timuaq. There are many like myself who have only kno...
