Revolutions

133 - Inuxeq

Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.

Staring down the points of so many raised makeshift weapons, I fear that any sudden movement, or even breathing too loudly, will set these Aimue farmers off into a frenzied fit of fighting. Even more piercing and threatening are the glares I receive from everyone collected here. With the smoldering city behind them, the situation feels dire and grim, as if battle will begin at any given moment.

Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.

I try to take a slow, calming breath, but it catches in my throat. Every instinct screams at me to act, to draw my weapon and defend myself. But I hold still, watching the man tighten his grip around his crude spear. One wrong move, and this could erupt into violence neither of us can afford.

"Wait!" I shout, louder this time. My voice feels raw as the words scrape my throat. "There's been a huge misunderstanding. We didn't attack you."

"A misunderstanding?" one of the Aimue scoffs. "The warriors behind you wear the colors of the Qantua, do they not? The same colors that laid waste to our fields, looted our supplies, and killed anyone who resisted. Now you come back to finish us off?"

"Was it not enough," another Aimue adds, her thin face covered in soot and ash, "to pillage our homes and wipe out our stocks from the harvest the first time? Did you already deplete the foods you stole from us?"

I'm baffled by their accusations. The only time we set foot in these lands was during a chance encounter with the Eye in the Flame, and discovered their plans to travel to Qapauma after fighting them off from this place. Why, then, are we being confused for attackers?

My frustration rises. This wasn't us! I want to shout, but I try my best to keep my voice steady—and likely will fail in the effort to do so. "These warriors are Qantua, yes, but we've only been through this region once—over a moon cycle ago. We came here to help, not destroy."

"Help?" The woman laughs bitterly. "You expect us to believe that? Do you think we are fools? You Qantua are all the same. Your warriors came through, wearing the same colors, and left us in even greater ruin."

I glance back at the warriors behind me, who, like me, are bewildered. No matter what I say, the Aimue farmers seem convinced. "You keep saying we attacked," I press, my frustration mounting, "but it wasn't us, I assure you. You need to be clear: when did this happen? Who led the attack?"

"You ask as if you don't know," a woman with tear-streaked cheeks spits. "Bore the same cursed symbol—a twelve-pointed sun! Came in the night like thieves, they did. They came and took everything. Our food, our water... whatever little we had left to rebuild."

The mention of a twelve-pointed sun makes me pause. We bear no such thing. Should I know of this symbol? It sounds familiar, but I can't place where I've seen such a sigil before.

"A sun, you said? Did you see it clearly? Describe it to me."

Still holding his makeshift weapon threateningly, the man scowls. "Clear as day," he says. "A twelve-pointed sun, with a face at the center—its eyes cold, unfeeling. They carried it as if they were gods, as if we were beneath them."

Another farmer speaks up, his voice cracking. "They came with fire in their eyes, claiming they were the new rulers of Pachil. The sun marked their armor, their weapons." He spits on the ground toward my feet. "They promised they'd crush anyone who stood in their way. And you wear the same colors. How can we trust you?"

'New rulers of Pachil'? That sounds like talk from the Eye in the Flame. But they say we wear the same colors as their attackers. Are there Qantua who have joined the cult?