Not Fit For Shelter
"Your men and their comfort are your concern, Ragone."
Moments after Inahtuu meets with Geralt in his room he takes a trip down memory lane.
“I a’fi I miss the kita more than I should…”1
The words hung at the top of the otherwise empty page as they did in Inahtuu’s mind. Geralt’s interruption had been welcome, though now that he’d left there was little else for Inahtuu to do but drift back to his thoughts. Back to his regrets, his remorse, his attempts at recompense.
What was there to miss? The camaraderie, the lifelong bonds forged, their faces… all gone. He should've relished his solitude by now, with all this time spent traveling alone.
Inahtuu laid down his quill and journal on the bedside table with care. The memories contained were best unexamined for the rest of the night. As for the ones currently populating his mind, those were better left unwritten.
As he stood, the idea of following Geralt back downstairs came over him. From the sound of the voices below, Inahtuu gathered that many of the patrons had remained at The Bard’s despite the day’s tussle. While he’d done his best not to show off too much, Inahtuu was certain that these folks were in their cups enough to make a celebration of it. In his room he’d stay.
He couldn’t afford carousing. The guards who escorted Geralt’s senseless, gruff attacker out of the inn cut their eyes sharply in Inahtuu’s direction just as they exited. A look he was used to. A ro’kita may go unnoticed to a civilian, but to a man or woman of arms, they had a recognizable signature.
Now pacing with ya’rosa2 in hand, Inahtuu began to twirl the weapon as if it were a child’s plaything.
Who was the man? Inahtuu swung his ya’rosa around his head, then drove it towards the ground in a slashing motion.
Were he and Geralt acquaintances? Recovering quickly, as if his ya’rosa were an extra appendage, he drove the pommel up with enough force to knock his invisible opponent unconscious.
What of that sigil? A fiery hand, was it? With a flick of his wrist, Inahtuu sent the snarled head of his ya’rosa screaming toward his foe’s neck, as he’d done countless times before. Hundreds of targets had been at the opposite end of Inahtuu’s extended grasp.
This form, the first a ro’kita learns, was ingrained deeply in Inahtuu. He often found himself flowing through it. Not out of a need to practice, but to ease his nerves. He felt safe in it, at home.
Inahtuu froze, ya’rosa parallel to the ground in front of him. He stared at the opposite wall as the first tenet filled his head. “I ngi’a ‘kilo’ is ‘rongi bi ‘Faha, ‘gavoki vi ˈfawa.”3
The memory he’d tried so hard to avoid came rushing in after it.
A ro’kita was sworn to serve Kavana, and by extension, Mother. Inahtuu’s most recent service to his homeland, one which would also turn out to be his last, brought he and his company to Tivewen.
Nestled just north of the channel of the Esran sea most known for smuggling, Saldia’s southern principality, the Principality of Sran’ Ji, was home to its greatest export. Poppy was found in abundance here. The ripe poppy seed was freely traded all across Amashik. It was the milky white substance cut from the unripe seed that was forbidden.
Inahtuu and his band of ro’kitas were sent to help solidify Tivewen defenses against maritime assaults. Ragone, the head of the governing triumvirate, held his seat there. As was the Saldian custom, Ragone had forgone his surname long ago. His features, broad shoulders with wide-set hips, naturally curved nose, thick brows, and brown skin indicate that this man was originally Horaghian. As would his brash demeanor.
“You sneaky bastards. You built that?” Ragone guffawed as he slapped Inahtuu on the shoulder.
Inahtuu kept his wits and didn’t react to the man’s unwelcome touch. “Many and more.”
“You’ve been in my company for weeks, as have the rest of your dogs. Well, at least the fair one with the big hips has. I’ve had my eye on her, you know. How’d you do all this?” Ragone pointed at the well-made fortification hidden in the canopy high above their heads.
Inahtuu replied with measured respect. “We have our ways.”
How Ragone came to be the head of the Sran’ Ji triumvirate baffled Inahtuu. He’d had to stop himself from gelding the man a number of times over the last turn.
“So what’s the plan, then? My men aren’t going to up and leave the comfort of their homes for these… these huts,” Ragone said, tone sharp this time.
Inahtuu’s voice was stern now. "Your men and their comfort are your concern, Ragone. Mine? Making sure you can protect your poppy from the marauders who somehow slip past your coastlines time and time again.”
“Watch your tongue, boy. You forget yourself?”
Inahtuu lifted his hand, fist clenched. Seconds later a dozen or so arrows landed feet away from where the two stood. Ragone jumped backwards and grunted in displeasure. Before he could gather himself to rebuke, Inahtuu spoke.
“These are not fit for shelter.”
After a time, Inahtuu leaned his ya’rosa back against the wall of his small room. His final campaign as a ro’kita stuck with him for many reasons. Ragone’s brashness. The odd timing of the triumvirate’s request. Inahtuu’s intuition that none of it made any sense.
For years it had been clear to any who’d been paying attention that Saldia’s principalities had benefited greatly from the unripened poppy trade. They skirted the rules, yet out of the Blue Expanse they wanted help protecting their borders from those who were likely their best customers?
I should’ve known better.
Head hung low, he picked up his journal and flipped through the pages. Spotting a line here, a sketch there, not stopping to look at anything in particular. In moments like these Inahtuu was thankful to have experienced as much as he had during his ‘ngi’a ‘kilo’. His time spent with his band was the best of his life - it was his life. And to think of how it was all ripped away only made its absence worse.
Inahtuu followed Ragone into Tivewen. They wove in and out of several tents that made up the “pavilion city.” Each larger tent was connected to the next by smaller ones. Shops. Craftsmen. Parlors. If you could think of a place to spend your coin or sell your wares, it occupied a tent in Tivewen.
In the heart of the cloth metropolis lay Ragone’s home, a beautifully decorated space with no interior walls. On one side was a large bed atop a platform, with loose nets hanging from the ornate columns standing at each corner of the dais. In the center was a fire pit, ringed with small benches and tables for setting food and drink. And on the far side, where the group was headed, was a massive wargaming table. An odd sight for a man who had but a household guard, and a few soldiers to garrison his city.
The table was long enough for each of the group to line its sides with a comfortable distance between them. On the right stood Ragone, Tigre, the head of his household guard, and Michonne, the master of coin. Tigre’s fiery red hair drew the eye, while Michonne’s stature - nearly a head shorter - belied her importance. Directly across from Inahtuu was a brooding man he hadn’t seen before this meeting.
On the left were Inahtuu, Taza, ‘Mapiki, Ngo’miyi, and Pa. These four were among Inahtuu’s most trustworthy ro’kitas, and they rarely left his side. Over their years of service they’d also become like a family. Taza stood between Inahtuu and ‘Mapiki, the young man Inahtuu considered a younger brother. ‘Mapiki had only recently come of age and begun his ‘ngi’a ‘kilo’. Standing side by side at the opposite end of the table were Pa and Ngo’. She stood stoically, eyes locked on Ragone’s easy posture and the two blades he’d sheathed at his ample waist.
There was a tension in here that made Inahtuu uneasy. The layout of Tivewen made it an improbable place to escape from in a hurry. Each time they’d come here it felt like the set-up was slightly different. As if it were purposely rearranged to throw off any who weren’t from the southern principality.
Ragone leaned over his table as he spoke, licking his lips at Ngo’, and all Inahtuu could think of was how Ragone had said he’d had his eyes on her.
“With your help, we’ll have these little huts lining the coast from here to Grytbia. Horaghian widows help me, we might even get the bastards to pitch in and help build some.” Ragone and Tigre both laughed.
“We’ll have our pay and be out of your hair,” Ngo’ said.
“Aye. In time. Though I’d rather pay you to stay, love. What do you say? Would you like that?” Ragone attempted reach across the table and place his hand on hers. Ngo’ simply stepped back and out of reach.
“Whores pay for the right to bed me, I’ll have you know.”
“Enough,” Inahtuu said firmly, and turned to the master of coin. “Lady Michonne. We’ve done our duty. When can we expect what is ours?”
She addressed Inahtuu directly. “I’ll have it to you tonight. You all can make your leave in the morning.”
Ragone was obviously not used to being told no. The man wasn’t ugly, though Inahtuu doubted he’d ever been called handsome. He made his way around the table. Had the table been of a normal size, Inahtuu may have been able to stop what he could see was about to happen.
As Ragone made his way towards Ngo’, Pa quickly stepped in between the two. Although he wasn’t as tall as the head of Sran Ji’, he was as wide. The two stood silently as Ragone licked his lips yet again and looked Pa up and down. Ragone went to touch Pa’s shoulder and before he could, Pa’s hand shot up and grabbed Ragone by the wrist.
Twisting it outward, turning his palm towards the sky, Pa drove Ragone’s forearm back into the man’s chest. Pa drove him backwards as Ragone groaned in pain. Without a word, Pa steered the man towards the benches that sat in a circle around the fire pit in the pavilions center. With a shove he sent Ragone toppling over one of them. The big man tumbled, legs in the air, and hit the ground hard. Ashes from a days-old fire puffed up in a small cloud around his head.
What was unease had quickly escalated to something much worse as Tigre rushed to his master’s side while the unknown man made his way between Pa and the rest of them who remained at the table. Ragone and his men had their hands on their weapons, signaling what was to come. Michonne, the only one of them that was unarmed, moved towards the center of it all.
“We will not have this. Not here.” Michonne looked intensely at Ragone and continued. “They’ve done what was asked of them, you go too far.”
“Don’t undo your britches yet, you ox. The bed’s on the other side of the tent.” In spite of his attempts at humor it was clear that Ragone’s demeanor had changed.
“Come. I will guide you back to your camp.” Michonne said as she gestured for Inahtuu and his companions to follow her.
Ragone’s men stayed put as they made their leave. As he watched each in his charge exit through the mouth of the pavilion a deep sense of dread came over Inahtuu.
Inahtuu could feel that same feeling even months removed from that evening. But with his head on a pillow for the first time in weeks, he’d have to play the rest out in his dreams. Would it be different this time?
With his eyes leaden, he thought he could see Ragone standing over him. Would fate rethink its cruelty?
Hoping for peace, Inahtuu gave way to sleep. Would it be enough to quiet the guilt?
Loosely translates to: “ I fear I miss the hunt more than I should.” In Kavana they speak both commons and a derivative of Nazola. To them, it’s known simply as “Kavanian.” Due to their extensive travels across Amashik many Kavinians speak multiple languages, though they typically write in their native tongue. Inahtuu is trying to teach himself to write in fluent commons, he’s getting close!
Standard weapon of most ro’kita’s. It is an in-universe name for a mancatcher. A weapon designed to capture not kill.
Loosely translates to: "Your obligation is first to Mother, then her heart."
I love this flashback story and dive into the background of Inahtuu! His past experiences and troubles Clearly drive him forward. It's so cool to dive into his training and time campaigning, seeing a different side than the current character. And I remember the inn sequence very well from the first issue so this fits right into the storyline nicely!