The beginning is the best place to start – that is a maxim.
It is a maxim, but it is easier said than done.
The realm of Reigina, after all, is a strange and storied land, and no matter at what point we choose as our beginning, it would appear as though we were leaving something vital out.
Whether we were to pick, just as an example, the much-concealed history of the Astral Plane Wars or the ludicrous happenings during Great Coup Festival (where power changed hands from despot to despot no less than 7 times in a three-year period), we could scarcely fit enough in our narrative.
Nevertheless, as we must start somewhere, we will start where we left off.
12 years after that night of a strange birth, a sleek but old bright yellow and green omnibus[1] suddenly jerked and stopped moving.
The large rectangular beast of a machine, panelled in its bright but dust-covered lacquer, now stood inactive on the side of the dusty road. Observing it, the conductor and driver saw that contact with a nasty pothole had damaged the rim of the wheel.
"Did you grab a spare?" one of the passengers asked from his position in the vehicle, overhearing their diagnosis.
The conductor didn't speak, avoiding his inquiring gaze.
"It wouldn't help even if you did," the driver spoke up, his usually threadbare though clean uniform covered in dust from his inspection of the situation. "The axle is damaged too; even if we managed to replace the wheel, the axle would just further deteriorate and cause a worse accident down the line."
"I guess it can't be helped," another passenger said with some regret.
Most of them had descended from the two-tiered vehicle at this point and were looking around for suitable shelter, with only a few staying close to ensure that their luggage was safe. Luckily, this route was chosen because of its isolation from the roaming beast hordes that plagued the lands between the provinces in this realm, so, although they were very annoyed by the inconvenience, they weren't anxious over their safety. Still, if something wasn't done quickly, placid annoyance would turn into unappeasable anger.
"What do we do?"
"I'll send someone ahead to intercept one of the omnibuses ahead and follow them to the closest checkpoint to get help."
He noticed the ugly expression of the conductor at this.
"It'll take a long time, but our only other hope is if a blacksmith or mechanic with their gear just happens upon our predicament."
"I'm a blacksmith, sir."
The sudden declaration came from a small voice a little distance from them.
The shocked driver nearly jumped out of his skin, but turned to see a child with a large load of luggage on his back.
He hadn't been there a moment ago.
The conductor reached for his rustic yet trusty sidearm but was restrained by the driver.
"What are you doing?"
"It could be an evil spirit," he whispered back. The combination of his sudden appearance and bright yellow eyes seemed to support this seemingly wild supposition. The only thing more abundant than the myriad races of this land was the number of dangers at every corner.
At this query, though, the boy dropped the stacked backpack he was wearing on the ground. The dust that was stirred up in the aftermath basically confirmed that he was tangible and not an immaterial evil creature (although one could never be too safe as far as these things went).
"Regardless, you know what he is," he insisted, looking at the child's uncut tangle of hair and ragged clothes with contempt.
In Reigina, this combination was generally reserved for one thing, and though it wasn't as bad as an evil spirit, it was certainly not a welcome or auspicious presence.
The driver waved him off and gave the young boy a once-over before turning back to the conductor.
"How long would it take for someone to reach the nearest checkpoint and get someone over?"
"A few hours probably," the conductor admitted, still uneasy about the child in front of them.
"Can you fix this in that time?"
"It'll just take a few minutes, sir."
The driver was incredulous but also piqued.
"And in exchange?"
"I'll get a free ride, sir," he said with a smile, pointing to the top of the omnibus, "with the luggage on the roof so I don't make your customers uncomfortable."
"How impetuous," the conductor raged, walking up with a koboko (cowtail whip), that he carried about with him almost without fail. Several brutal lashes landed in succession without warning. "How dare a creature like you make any demands?"
The driver frowned but didn't stop what happened; it wasn't like he was the conductor's superior and many didn't treat osu with even this level of dignity.
He did however note with interest that, although struck forcefully, the mysterious boy didn't flinch but instead kept his head low and bright yellow eyes pointed to the ground as though the assault had little to do with him personally.
The perpetrator seemed to tire of the action himself and relented soon enough, returning to his colleague's side.
"What are you doing here all alone?" the driver asked, observing him and his luggage.
"Just trying to get home, sir."
"Home being?"
"The Lowlands, sir."
That was their destination.
"So you were travelling alone and decided to try and hitch a ride with us?"
He nodded respectfully.
"How can you be travelling alone?" the conductor asked, clucking his tongue afterwards. "It's far too dangerous for you."
"I heard there were no beasts on this route, so I decided to use it. I also have a map so I don't get lost."
"That's still unacceptable, it's way too far."
He had no reply to that and merely shrugged.
"It won't hurt to let him try it out," the conductor finally said, an unexpected softening of the heart taking over him. "It's not like he can do any more harm… If any luggage goes missing, I won't take responsibility, though."
The driver seemed to have no issues with this and gestured with his head for the child to get going. Nothing was truly surprising in this land of monsters and evil spirits, and if he had never seen a ten-year-old fix a broken axle in a few minutes, it just meant that he hadn't lived long enough.
Kneeling before the defective wheel, he began to feel about and smell it instead of pulling out his tools.
The damaged metal broke apart into small granules akin to pencil graphite as he ran his hand across the fissure.
"Cast iron," he said absentmindedly, mostly to himself, "I didn't know they still used that for omnibus wheels."
"It's an old model, and it keeps it cheap."
He smiled but said nothing more.
Obscuring his work from the sight of the others with his body, he suddenly bit into his finger.
The checkpoint, much overdue for some sort of renovation or refurnishing, was the last hurdle to enter the Great Tin Lowlands Province (known simply as the Lowlands) and the driver and conductor of the large vehicle subjected themselves to the routine search, document inspections and bribe negotiations with the lazy and reserved ease of people who had become comfortable in a habit.
As they chatted idly with the soldiers during this process, one of them suddenly let out a small yelp, calling the attention of his comrades to the top of the bus.
As was common practice, the excessive luggage was harnessed to the roof of the vehicle so as to not waste any space, but besides the expected luggage, a young boy sat in the middle with his legs crossed, almost in a lotus, his eyes closed in rest.
It wasn't long until he noticed that he was the reason for the commotion and he opened his eyes promptly and aimed the innocent smile of childhood at the khaki and armour-wearing soldiers who surrounded him.
The candid smile did little to put them at ease, though, as they noted his dark and tangled hair and raggedy clothing, their hands reaching for their waists and backs where their weapons were prepared.
"My ogas," the conductor said hastily, trying his most placative smile as he gestured for everyone to be calm. "There really is no need for that; he's just another one of our passengers."
The soldiers looked at the man inquiringly, prompting him to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly before continuing his explanation.
"He's just a student, and since he offered to only take the room on the roof and pay extra for his luggage… I didn't find a good reason to say no."
Stealing a glance at the boy's rough hair again, one of the soldiers chastised him, telling him that there were many good reasons to say no.
"It's fine," one of the older soldiers said, placing his hand on his young comrade's shoulder, before giving a slight smile. "Osu are people too, after all."
"We're all people," he replied animatedly, "but they're given over to the gods. Interacting with them normally is like inciting the wrath of the gods against ourselves. Which one of you is prepared to fight Ani?"
"Not necessarily," the man said in his cool manner. "From the beginning, the gods have allowed them to eat and travel like the rest of us. Land, titles and marriage are their only real restrictions from the divine. The people have just dealt with them more harshly because of perhaps misplaced devotedness."
The boy bowed his head to hide the small smile on his face. He was quite familiar with the type of person that soldier was – once bribes were involved, old foxes like him suddenly became theology professors. Even Ani herself might find herself at a disadvantage in a debate. If they detained him here, a superior would most likely need to be summoned and that meant less profit for everyone present.
The face of the young soldier twitched in irritation, but, being quite aware of his own sharp tongue and its propensity to get him into trouble with his superiors, he decided to swallow the words in his heart and instead give a weak "All I know is that it does not sit right with my Chi." (Different from Qi).
"Littas are more important than Chi," the man said with a smile as he walked closer to the boy who had managed to keep a neutral face throughout the period his fate was being discussed by dangerous armed men.
"Boy," the man said, his yellowed teeth appearing wolfish through his sharp grin, "where are you coming from?"
"Learning Crocodile Province, sir," was the respectful reply. "I'm a student there and am coming home to visit my parents."
"I see," he said thoughtfully.
The action prompted the boy to throw a thick rolled-up parchment towards the man, who caught it very deftly and heard a slight chiming sound as he did. Unrolling the document discreetly, he saw three penannular rings of a rich red copper colour, each about half a palm in size.
These were manillas[2] and were the official coinage of Reigina.
The man let out a small smile, and by a rather dexterous motion, pocketed the rings and returned the document (which he had barely looked at) to the boy before waving the bus through the checkpoint finally.
The young man kept the polite smile on until they were well past before heaving a sigh of relief. The idea of being held up at the final boundary between home was genuinely bothersome.