The Case of the Commandery Princess and the Prime Minister’s Narrow Escape
Chapter 19
Five years of not knowing compounded in a wave, and Azula’s tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched the considerable number of Sura people approaching him. It had been so long since such a happy event had occurred; he could barely dare to believe it.
“Azu, they are real,” Sennin said, laughing next to him.
“It’s unbelievable,” Wolfe said, his voice caught between awe and surprise.
Azula laughed, too, when the first of the men reached him and pulled him into a tight hug. Azula sank into the joyous, sun-warmed warmth as more people came to hug them, crying and laughing at the same time. Azula could barely get a word out, laughing when he was kissed on his cheeks, eager hands touched his unbraided hair, and his shoulders were patted.
Then the group parted to let an older man, who was walking with the help of a cane, come through. Azula took a good look, and he let out a happy shout, rushing the man in a frantic need to hug him.
“Torak!” Azula wrapped his arms around his father’s trusted attendant.
“Torak, they said you died,” Azula cried, holding him tight but carefully. “They said you died.”
“Azula,” Torak said, his voice hoarse with emotion as he held on to Azula, too.
Azula closed his eyes, burying his face against the old man’s shoulder. The familiar, comforting scent of dried tea leaves enveloped him, anchoring him to a childhood he thought had been erased. Torak had taken care of his father all his life, and he had been Azula’s fiercest protector when he was a boy. Whenever his father’s scolding words had cut too deep, Torak was the one who would quietly slide a bowl of sweet nut pudding into his hands and sit with him by the edge of the lake, staying until the heavy silence lifted and Azula could smile again.
Now, holding this living, breathing miracle, a profound wave of euphoria crashed over Azula, making his chest ache with a fierce, beautiful happiness. He squeezed Torak tighter, feeling the older man’s frame tremble with the same overwhelming emotion.
“Mom was most regretful about you,” Azula managed to say between breathless, tearful sobs. “She wanted so badly to see you married and blessed with children. She cried at the thought that you had passed without sons. Oh, it is so good you’re still alive!”
Torak’s chest heaved, and then he let out a booming, joyous laugh that instantly catalyzed the crowd around them, setting off a chain reaction of bright, ringing laughter.
“He has a wife now!” Oren called out, clapping his hands in pure delight. “Lady Lasma won’t have to worry about him anymore. Torak, look at what you’ve done to our lady! At least you met Belle and have two children now. Otherwise, our lady would still be weeping at the thought of being a matchmaker for an old man.”
Azula finally stepped back, his hands resting gently on Torak’s shoulders as he beamed, drinking in the sight of him from his weathered face down to his sturdy boots. Despite the new walking cane, Torak looked radiant and healthy.
“The fates are kind,” Azula declared, a breathless, ecstatic laugh escaping his lips. “They have been so incredibly kind. I have no words for this joy.”
Feeling a sudden pull, his gaze shifted across the clearing to Raithion, who stood tall and steadfast at the edge of the vibrant crowd. Catching his eye, Azula let his heart overflow into his expression, softly mouthing to him, “Thank you.”
Raithion smiled and nodded his head once.
****
Raithion watched Azula mingle among his people with a sense of excitement. He smiled too hard, which had Haedor tilting his head to look at him with a teasing glance.
“You look happier than Prince Azula, whose eyes have turned red from crying with happiness,” Haedor said.
Raithion ignored him and crossed his arms against his chest. His gaze fixed on Azula, who was busy listening to Orin and Torak with interest. An endless update had begun as the two men shared news from the past five years, supported by their people, almost talking at the same time.
Knowing this reunion would take time, Raithion moved to settle on a large root under the shade of the baobab tree. It would take some hours before they were all caught up. And, there was still one more thing to show Azula.
Raithion was adjusting his boots when a hoarse, harsh cry filled the clearing. He stood, worried Azula had received some terrible news. But it wasn’t Azula who cried; it was Wolfe, the man Raithion had come to understand was Azula’s fiercest protector. Wolfe knelt on the grass, holding a five-year-old boy. His eyes were filled with tears as he stared at the boy, and then up at the young woman holding the boy’s shoulders.
“Suli!” Wolfe said. “How?”
“I—” Suli broke off, her cheeks colored red. “Remi and I, we were together. He asked me to marry him the night before he died. We were to seek your permission and meet with Chief Marius for our marriage ceremony. I—I didn’t realize I was pregnant until two months later.”
Wolfe stared at the boy, his eyes wide, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “He looks so much like Remming when he was a boy. It’s like he’s back to life.”
Raithion sat down, relaxing as he watched Wolfe stand and then lift the boy into his arms, hugging him tight. Then he pulled the woman he called Suli into his arms and held them both, his tears endless.
Sennin was also having an animated conversation with an older woman and her family, their features animated as they held on to each other. It looked like it was a series of reunions for everyone.
Azula extracted himself from a group surrounding him and walked toward Raithion, a smile lingering on his lips.
Raithion tried to steel himself, but looking at Azula now, he was irrevocably lost. A profound, aching warmth bloomed in his chest, a yearning so intense it made his pulse race. Azula looked radiant, his face illuminated by pure, unadulterated happiness. It was impossible not to love him more in this moment.
Azula stopped right in front of him. His hands at his sides, fingers flexing with nervous energy before he curled them into tight fists and drew a deep, steadying breath.
“Raith,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“You don’t,” Raithion countered softly, desperate for Azula to understand the depth of his devotion. “Their lives are my penance, Azula. There are those I couldn’t save; their lives still weigh heavily on my conscience. This isn’t a debt. This is simply giving your people what they have always been owed.”
“I don’t—”
“I am just so happy that you are happy,” Raithion interrupted. “This is all…Please, don’t thank me, Azula. Just accept it as it is.”
Azula searched his eyes for a long moment, swallowed hard, and then glanced back at the boisterous, celebrating crowd.
“I want to stay among them a little longer,” Azula admitted. “Torak has invited me to his house. I want to see it and meet his children.”
A sudden, sharp spike of anxiety hit Raithion’s chest. “Are you going to remain here then?” he asked, terrified that Azula would choose to stay in the village for the rest of his time in Draeya.
“No,” Azula said, his smile widening with reassurance. “You’ve protected them in secret for so long. If I stay, your efforts might be compromised. Besides, we came to Draeya for another matter. I just… I want to be among them for a few more hours. Do you understand?”
Relief washed over Raithion in a sweet, intoxicating wave. He held Azula’s gaze, nodding gently. “We’ll talk about the rest when you return to the manor.”
Azula agreed with a nod. He lingered for a heartbeat, holding Raithion’s gaze, before he turned and practically sprinted back toward Torak. It was a light, carefree, ecstatic run that made Raithion’s heart soar.
Torak threw an arm over Azula’s shoulders, and the entire group began to move together like a joyous wave, bound for Torak’s home. Raithion knew the place well; he had watched the Sura gather there for years, sharing communal meals, weathering hardships, and celebrating marriages and birthdays.
Just as Raithion assumed he and Haedor would be left behind in the clearing, Oren broke away from the group and hurried to his side.
“Draeya Prince,” Oren said, his face flushed with excitement. “Torak reminds us that you often honor his table, and now you have brought our chieftain back to us. Please, you must join the celebration.”
Raithion’s instinct was to decline to give them space, but the earnest, pleading look in Oren’s eyes, coupled with the sheer euphoria of the day, won him over. He rose from the tree root and turned to Haedor and Sharian.
“Shall we?” Raithion asked, unable to mask the profound happiness vibrating in his voice.
Oren offered a grateful grin before rushing back to flank Azula.
“Look at you, absolutely elated,” Haedor teased, falling into step beside him. “You’re grinning as though you’ve never tasted a single meal in Torak’s house before.”
“This meal is different,” Raithion said. He left the horses in Sharian’s capable hands, his chest bursting with a rare lightness as they followed the laughter of Azula’s people on foot.
Haedor let out a booming laugh, but for once, Raithion didn’t care about his right-hand man’s teasing. His eyes were fixed on Azula, and his heart had never felt so fulfilled.
****
A spontaneous celebration began in Torak’s compound. Savory food was cooked, children played, and anyone who wished came up and entertained Azula, Sennin, and Wolfe. Whether it was embarrassing, heartfelt speeches or stunning, soulful songs from talented ones, it was all received with enthusiasm.
Azula refused to make a speech when it was time to eat. Instead, he urged Wolfe to make the toast on behalf of his son, Remming, who had gone to the beyond but had left behind a beautiful boy, a surprise gift from fate. Everyone drank to the toast with misted eyes.
The afternoon was spent talking and drinking together. Then, as the sun started to slide below the horizon, the clan members drifted back to their homes, and Torak invited Azula into his house along with Wolfe, Sennin, Raithion, and Haedor. Oren also stayed behind, as it seemed they managed the affairs of the clan together.
Sennin was the first to give an account of the island’s fate since their return.
“Azula led the procession for the twenty-eight clan members who died with Chief Marius,” Sennin said, his tone solemn as he narrated the funeral details. “We offered carnelian stones and dust to ease their path to the next world. Alise was injured and expecting Yemin’s child. So, Magnus and Lady Lasma asked Azula to step up and take on the mantle. He did, and so became the mourning chief he is today.”
“What about you, Torak?” Azula asked. “I want to hear about you. What happened to your leg? Why did they say you died with my father? I thought you were—”
“I’ll answer all your questions, Azu. Take a breath,” Torak said with a laugh.
Azula sighed and sat back on the couch, looking around the room with a small smile.
Torak sat next to him, his leg stretched out to ease the day’s pains. His wife and children were in the kitchen, talking to Wolfe’s grandson and Remming’s wife.
Raithion sat in an armchair in the corner next to Wolfe, their strange silence oddly interesting to watch. Azula found their awkward interaction interesting. Wolfe made several attempts to start a conversation with Raithion, stopping each time with a wince. Azula bit back a laugh as he remembered the extent of Wolfe’s serious annoyance with Raithion before. Well, this would be an interesting period.
Azula dragged his attention back to Torak, astonished that his gaze kept seeking out Raithion, even at this time.
“The night your father was arrested, he asked me to help everyone leave the capital,” Torak said, his words drawing all of Azula’s attention. “The officers from the magistrate’s office came and took charge of him and the men they found in the Doriel manor. I focused on making sure Alise, Lasma, and all the women made it out safely with the family chests, making sure they went out of the city first. By the time I returned, the officers had already taken the men away. I followed them and managed to pay off a prison guard so that I could see Marius in the cells.”
Torak sighed and met Azula’s gaze.
“Your father knew what the magistrate’s office was going to do by then,” Torak said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how until later.”
“What do you mean?” Azula asked. “How could Dad know what would happen to him?”
Torak pulled an old envelope from his pocket and held it out to Azula.
“He gave me this envelope to give back to your sister,” Torak said. “Since you’re Chieftain, I think this should go to you.”
Azula frowned, glancing at Raithion for a second before he opened the envelope to find an old paper carefully folded inside. It was a note.
It read: The charge is treason, like Black Cove. Save as many of your people as you can. The capital is no longer safe for your clan. There is no way to escape what is coming.
Azula frowned, as the note was not signed.
“Who sent this?” he asked, glancing at Torak. Torak smiled, knowing Azula understood he had read the note.
“The one who wrote the note was Thanir Maenaer, Marquis Draeya at the time,” Torak said. “His warning allowed us to start evacuating. Whoever was saved first is thanks to that note.”
Azula’s heart skipped, holding the crinkled note with care. He could not have imagined such a thing existed. He returned it to the old envelope and slipped it into his pocket.
“But why would he write such a warning?” Azula asked, turning to Raithion.
“I was surprised to discover your father was acquainted with mine,” Raithion said. “The relationship was distant, only enough for a warning, but my father always offered his counsel when Chief Marius requested information.”
Azula nodded, adding to himself that Marquis Draeya was also someone he needed to know more about.
“As for how I broke my leg, it happened during our own escape from the city. When I heard what happened to Marius, I tried to get everyone into plain carriages headed for the port,” Torak said. “Marius had asked me to retrieve Remming Silverberry’s body. The boy was lynched, then taken to a morgue on the outskirts of the capital. We managed to find him and had to outrun a group of mercenaries on the way out of the capital. One of them got me with an arrow, but we managed to drive the carriage out. Oren and I.”
“On the way, hoping to reach the port, we ran into the Draeya Prince’s legion soldiers,” Oren said. “They told us the last Sura ship had sailed a day before. So, they directed us into Draeya County and to safety. From there, we started collecting everyone left behind and brought them here. Some we saved in time; others we could not.”
Torak nodded and reached out to take Azula’s hand. “Those who could not make it, we brought back anyway. We buried them in a plot just a ways from our settlement here,” Torak said. “Lord Raith has been very generous and has supported our community for five years now. We are very grateful.”
“This is one story of the many you’ll find among our people here,” Torak said to Azula. “I may have hurt my leg, but others lost family and friends in the mad rush to Draeya County. We tried to reduce the loss during the purge, but the Lyrian people only needed to see the color of our hair, and the charge of greedy silver forgers was placed on our heads. Prejudice is an unforgiving master. ”
Oren nodded in agreement, shaking his head at the memories of the past.
“We’re happy to find out that the island survived,” Oren said. “That our Chieftain is strong and has found us. We are grateful to Lord Raith for looking after us all this time and bringing you to find us.”
Azula looked away, his chest tightening as a heavy, suffocating wave of grief crashed over him. He knew the agonizing pain of loss and the gnawing rot of uncertainty all too well. Hearing Torak’s and Orin’s stories tore open an old wound inside him, one that pulsed with a fresh, sharp ache the moment he allowed himself to feel it.
He pictured the desperate rush to the port, the mercenary arrows, the lynching of young men, and the graves just outside the settlement, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. For a brief, terrifying second, the sheer weight of his people’s trauma threatened to pull him under.
He suddenly missed his father terribly. Marius always knew what to say or do.
But he was their Chieftain now. He couldn’t afford to break, not here.
“Alright, the past stories will have their time,” Azula finally said. His voice trembled slightly before he forced himself to swallow down the thick lump of sorrow lodged in his throat. He blinked rapidly, grounding himself in the present, taking quiet comfort in the warmth of the small room and the reassuring existence of the surviving. “Then, I’ll tell you what I’ve brought with me. You can help me plan our next steps.”
Torak nodded and squeezed his hand tightly.
“Good,” Azula said. “On the island, the families with missing members registered their names on a list. Sennin will get the list tomorrow, and we can go through it together. This way we’ll know who has been found and who is still missing.”
“We also have a list,” Torak said with a happy laugh. “It should help finish the task much faster.”
“I brought a whistle that will call homing pigeons. We can use them to send messages to the island,” Azula said. “This way, there will be messages from families. Obviously, all this should be done with Lord Raith’s permission.”
“Thankfully,” Torak said. “Aren’t you worried about exposing our presence here?”
“I am,” Azula said. “But this worry should not last. I’m on the way to the capital to find a way to resolve our clan’s fate. I have a guard that—”
“Your guard should go with you to the capital. Don’t leave them here,” Raithion cut in then. “This village is well protected, and the legion officers stationed here to guard belong to me. The village is safe.”
Azula met his green gaze for a minute, then nodded. “Trust in Lord Raith’s arrangements.”
Torak glanced at Raithion, then back at Azula with a small frown.
“So, will you sleep here?” Torak asked, drawing Azula’s attention when he took his hand.
Azula shook his head. “Wolfe should stay. Let him spend time with his grandson and daughter-in-law. Sennin, too. He has found his aunt. I’ll head back with Lord Raith to keep up appearances.”
There were murmurs of protest at Azula’s plan, but Azula was quite skilled at extricating himself. Raithion stood, and Azula followed suit.
Everyone in Torak’s house walked them out, making Azula promise to return the next day.
Azula left Sennin and Wolfe, then mounted his horse. Raithion urged his horse next to Azula’s.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep over?” Raithion asked.
“I’m sure,” Azula said as he turned his horse away from Torak’s house, heading out of the compound. “Being among them makes me want to forget what my goal is in Lyria. They make me want to ride back to port to make sure they sail to the island to meet their loved ones. But that doesn’t solve anything. In any case, you said we need to be careful.”
“Yes,” Raithion said, urging Haedor and Sharian to join them with a glance. “No one will notice we returned two short now that we have Sharian with us.”
Azula urged his horse forward, and they started the journey back to the manor.
****
Sui Writes 
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