"Such single-mindedness isn't a good thing, Kerri."

"Maybe not, but we do have craftsmen and workers, same as any other nation, Zak. Actually, we're a bit more advanced than the human kingdoms, but we don't trade or transport our technology off of Wikuna. Well, except for our pact to trade gunpowder to Shace in exchange for the sulphur they mine from their volcano. We have gunpowder and cannons, muskets and other things. you'll see them when we get to Wikuna. We just make our living off trade, and to trade, we have to be able to sail." She glanced at him. "But hey, maybe we'll branch out," she said with a toothy grin. "Maybe it's time for Wikuna to stop sitting on its high horse, and share with the rest of the world."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea," the human agreed, looking at the land. "Pretty coastline. What's it like there?"

"Hot," she replied. "The hurricane's wind has cooled things down, but it gets hot down here. The main staples of this region of Wikuna is rice, sugar cane, and they also have good ship-quality timber."

"How big is Wikuna?"

"Well, the island is more like a continent, Zak," she replied. "Wikuna is just about the size of western Sennadar. Everything below the Skydancer mountains, and from the coast to the Sandshield. Wikuna is just a bit larger than that."

"Wow. A single kingdom owns as much land as the entire West."

"Alot of it is uninhabited, though," she admitted. "Wilderness dominates the inner regions. We've populated all the coastlines and moved inland a good distance, we populated the Island of the Heart and the Sea of Crowns, but the heart of Wikuna is mostly unexplored."

"Guess there are no seas there," he chuckled.

"I think that may be part of it," she agreed with a grin.

"It would be fun to explore it," he said dreamily. "To brave the unknown, to trek into dark lands and find out what's there."

"Why Zak, you sound like you have the soul of an adventurer."

"When I was a slave, I used to dream of running away, to some place they'd never find me," he said quietly, wanly. "Slavery is boring, Kerri. You spend your whole life in one place doing the same things over and over, and the entire world is denied to you. I guess a part of me will always look for someplace never disturbed by a man's boot. When I escaped from the arena, it made me flee west, and then it made me petition the Knights. They go all over the world, they get to see and do new and interesting things. Now that I'm free, I just want to go see what's behind the next hill."

The Princess cozied up to the huge human, grabbing his massive arm in her delicate hands and leaning against it. "Someday, Zak. Maybe some day, you'll get that chance."

"Maybe someday," he agreed. "But for right now, I'm content to stand with you."

"I'm glad to have you. So is Miranda. She really likes you."

"She's a bit wild, but I can deal with her."

"Both of us are a bit wild," she winked. "She's just wild in different ways, that's all. I have a temper, but Miranda loves to play games with men. She's a born heartbreaker."

"Don't you ever think of playing games with men?"

"Maybe later," she smiled. "Right now, I have more important things on my mind."

Though little was read into their conversation, the gist of it spread through the ship quickly. It wasn't often that the sailors heard the Princess speaking in such an informal and calm manner.

The ten days in sight of land passed quickly, until the massive city of Wikuna appeared on the horizon. It was the oldest of all Wikuni cities, said to be the first city of their kind, full of old stone buildings of ancient appearance mingled in with newer architectural designs. The jewel of the city was the huge Royal Palace, built on top of a hill at the center of the city, allowing the golden dome of the main structure rise above all and amaze the spectator with its majestic might and power. The city was far to the north, and the steeply sloped roofs of the city's buildings demonstrated the need to have buildings capable of shunting off the weight of snow. The hightlight of the city was the huge, deep harbor, protected by three massive coastal fortresses and with a single large island right at the center of the outside edge, allowing the two channels into the harbor to be heavily defended. Those channels were narrow and restrictive, allowing no more than one ship at a time to pass through them because of the daunting stone walls built out from the central island to narrow the entrances. The city had no walls to protect it from a land attack, a fact that a visitor from Sennadar would certainly notice quickly. But what it lost with a wall, it gained in sheer size. The city was huge, was probably home to nearly a half million Wikuni, and it sprawled out from the harbor and the Palace like the gray blanket of a god, dominating the land in every direction from the Palace.

The sailors assembled on deck when the ship docked at a private quay used only by the Royal Family. It stood at the end of a wide avenue that ran straight through the city, straight to the Palace itself. Fifty mounted Marines waited at the end of the quay with a large covered carriage. A footservant stood by the carriage, waiting for the High Princess to take her leave of the ship and return to her former life.

There was little fanfare in it. The Princess and her four companions walked down the gangplank, across the quay, and entered the large carriage, a carriage brought with the Vendari in mind. And then it and its escort trotted away.

The sailors had no idea what had just occurred. They had no inkling of the significance of the event when Keritanima's feet stepped back onto Wikuni soil. They went back to their duties, relieved beyond measure to have the volatile Princess off Sailor's Pride and out of their fur.

They had no idea that her dainty feet setting foot on Wikuni soil would create shockwaves that would shake the world.

It was all so strange, yet so familiar.

Keritanima walked along extravagantly decorated hallways, wide and spacious, the hallways of the Royal Palace. She never dreamed that she'd be there again, to stand in the hallways where she used to play as a child, hallways that had lost their innocence when Sabakimara crusaded to drive Keritanima mad. Hallways that had heard many secrets, had seen many murders and assassinations. If only those walls could talk. She had never dreamed she would see those hallways again when she last looked upon them, even had convinced herself that her father wouldn't go through with it and bring her back when they were on the ship. But there she stood, staring up at a massive portrait of Thalos Eram, the first Eram king in the current Eram dynasty. Her grandfather, six times removed. Seven kings of the Eram house had sat upon the throne of Wikuna, the seven kings who had increased the stakes of politics in Wikuna by killing and blackmailing to hold the throne. Thalos Eram had been the first, the first to teach the house of Eram all about the advantages of murder in politics, the first of a long line of bloody monarchs who killed any who challenged their rule.

Five hundred years. Five hundred long bloody years, five centuries that degenerated Wikuna from a monarchy to a totalitarian state. There was no longer a king in Wikuna, there was an overlord. Damon Eram was the master of this land, and he ruled it with an iron fist, with no regards to the people he destroyed or the lives he annihilated to maintain his crown, to increase his power, and to enhance the fortunes of both himself and the house of Eram.

There was quite a bit of pain wrapped up in that simple portrait. And not all of it was just hers. The house of Eram was responsible for the slaughter of thousands, from nobles to workers to innocents, killed to further the aims of the house. That was quite a bit of blood to be responsible for. It was part of the reason she had run away from her home, from her first family. She had never told the others about the extent of the savagery of her house, of her family. She had been ashamed of them, of her past. It was a deeply personal pain, a pain not even Miranda could feel. To know that she was descended from murderers and cold-blooded monsters was a sobering epiphany. She herself had proven to be little better than them. She had been forced to play their games to survive, to fend off the attacks and plots of her three sisters. She had tried hard not to do any permanent harm to them. But then, after the Brat was born, Jenawalani managed to kill Sabakimara and put Keritanima at the head of the line. It was a brilliant move, she had to admit, to place the one daughter that looked insuitable to rule in the role of High Princess, to get the other noble houses to help kill her off to prevent an incompetent from taking the throne. But Jenawalani had underestimated her. So had all the others. She had played their games, played them and beaten them time and time again, beaten them while continuing to pose as a scatterbrained shill.