159 Turning Winds (1/2)
”I would prefer if we did not have to wear these,” Wacoca said, as he tugged at his new Chutwa clothes. To the prince who was so used to the freedom of the open sea, the dark robes that covered most of his body must have felt restrictive.
”You don't want to be lynched in the streets, do you?” Corco grinned as he wondered what would happen if the verdant prince walked the streets with the clothes of the pirates who would always raid these shores.
”The people stare at us either way. It appears they have been aware of our identity for a long time.” With his neck tugged between his shoulders, Wacoca stole glances around.
”They're staring because you're so fidgety. If they knew who you are, you'd be long dead. Don't forget what my sister told us: Here, the Verdant folk are considered a vicious plague. That's why we're walking around in disguise... well, it's one reason.”
All around them, Corco could feel the foreign nature of the Chutwa. Instead of the open style of Medalan houses, everything in Chutwa was more private. The few people they saw on the streets were either hurried workers who carried supplies from one place to another or white-robed scholars, who sauntered through the streets and discussed their scriptures. With their closed-off nature and inherent bias, Corco thought their disguise might open a few of these closed doors for them.
Even though Hueatlan was a port town, Corco found very few fishermen. Though how many could there be, with the coast almost devoid of buildings. Centuries of raids from the sea had made the people in this area careful.
”How is it our fault they cannot protect their own possessions?” Wacoca asked in a tiny voice.
Even as the prince spoke, the two walked past a huddled group of beggars, the only city dwellers who would spend all their days outside.
”...let's just agree to disagree on this one.”
After a short stint of uncomfortable silence, Corco tried to steer their conversation in a different direction. He was aided by a small group of people in gaudy, bright orange robes. Although they wore swords, they did not wear the banners of Lord Huemac.
”People of Hueatlan,” one of them shouted, ”Great Swordsaint Tlaloc asks the greatest doctors of the lands for their assistance! Any successful doctors awaits great honor and wealth!”
”Who are they?” Corco asked, confused at the pompous performance.
”They appear to be a young sect master and his entourage. The Chutwa have a strong sect culture. These sects often possess their own powerful cultivation techniques, so at least here on the edges of the empire, they may even compete with the local rulers.”
”Weird how they allow some lawless bandits to rule over them.”
”These are the laws of the Chutwa,” Wacoca replied with a sour face. ”Since the local lords have little authority in the face of the great Central Heart of the capital, many are powerless in front of these organized forces. Even worse, some have been known to be in cahoots with these local sects, to exploit their people and steal the wealth of the capital.”
While the prince explained himself to the king in a small voice, the loudmouth of the sect member was still as active as before.
”Not any doctor may try his fortune, oh no! Only the greatest shall be worthy to gain favor from the great sword saint!”
”Looks like they have the same goal as us. Let's try and keep contact to a minimum.” While the verdant prince lowered his posture even more, Corco smirked. To him, these sects were a real danger now, but not one he had to deal with. These antiquated structures would be weeded out by time, all on their own. As soon as productivity, rather than manpower, became the decider of wars, the sects would disappear. Thus, he left them to their shouting and looked for his own doctors.
Soon after, Corco and Wacoca found their way to the edge of the town's market, and right away they saw the first object of his desire: On the market's corner stood a tiny stall with a bearded man behind it. In their strange, boxy font, the letters on the banner atop the stall distinguished the man as a doctor, although his appearance would suggest otherwise. Despite his beard, his clothes weren't in the white of the scholars, which meant he probably didn't have the allowance to wear them. Considering the sorry state of his cart, a proper scholarly education seemed unlikely. How could a real scholar ever appear so poor after all?
If only he could recruit some good doctors from the Chutwa Empire, it would solve a lot of his problems. Ever since he had taken over the south, Corco had been trying to invite scholars from all across Medala to join his cause. First among his targets were the doctors, to make sure a tragedy like the death of his uncle Sonco would never happen again.
However, he underestimated the stubbornness of the established order. To the wise men of Medala, Corco's methods were too extreme, an upset to the traditions of the ancestors. Rather than join his new academy in Saniya, most had turned north, to Amautu's lands. If he didn't want to wait years for his new students to graduate, he had to find doctors elsewhere. As stopgaps, the Chutwa doctors would be perfect.After all, they were considered the best physicians in the world. Already, he was excited when he saw the large banner with the Chutwa symbol for 'medicine' drawn on it.
In fact, Corco only became happier when he saw the man's state. Although he carried a beard, it was long and thin, not clean-shaven like the scholars would carry them. Although he wore a long robe, it was a rough and muddy brown, rather than their clean and soft white.
The 'teachings' of the Way taught students how to bend and break language, so as to better indoctrinate people and rulers. What would they know of actual medicine? Corco didn't need a charlatan, he needed the endless generations of accumulated knowledge Chutwa had to offer. As such, someone with no connection to the western cult was much more to his liking.
”Good evening, master,” Corco spoke in proper Chutwa. Although a bit rusty, he had refreshed his childhood knowledge a bit with his sister. Still, it seemed like it hadn't been enough, as the man's eyes narrowed in suspicion right away. However, the doctor's business sense overcame his hostility and drove away the frown.
”Welcome, dear guest! What is that ails you? This great Doctor Itzali can heal anything from cough to gout!” A smile formed on his face. Somehow, the man reminded Corco of his first meeting with Ronnie. His first impression reinforced, the king sat on the small stool for patients in front of the man's stall.
”Is that true, you can heal any illness?” Corco asked.
”Of course! As a student of the great master Yolotl, this doctor has been blessed with only the best education. A great physician of the chutwa faith, this doctor has traveled the country far and wide and seen all manner of suffering. Only a man who has seen the dark can speak of the light!”
”The Teachings of the Way,” Corco said and just about managed to suppress a frown as he did so. ”You didn't look like a scholar.”
For a moment the king saw the doctor's own frown return, before he answered in a lowered voice.
”This doctor is not,” he said, short-bound. ”However, it is a surprise to find a young master from foreign lands understand The Way.”
”It was that obvious, was it?” Corco pretended a pained smile. ”I thought my accent was good.”
”Please excuse this doctor's forward manner, young master. This old master did not wish to uncover any secrets. Years of travel have merely created an excellent judge of character. If young master wishes to keep his identity a secret, he may do as he wishes. For any great doctor, one patient is the same as any other.”
In reaction to the man's last words, Corco's eyes lit up. Wasn't this exactly what he had been looking for?
”It's not really much of a secret,” he replied. ”We are merchants who have traveled here from the northern provinces.”
*What an arrogant name to use for their tributaries,* Corco thought. As expected of such a giant country with no natural enemies, the Chutwa had no respect for anyone outside of their 'eternal empire'.
”Oh, then you are foreigners indeed?” the doctor rubbed his hands together. Somehow, Corco felt like a lamb to the slaughter. Maybe this doctor was glad to treat foreigners who wouldn't know the going rates of normal medicine in these parts.