Let’s level with each other- not everything we write makes it into our writing. It’s often for the best, but the decisions regarding what to cut and what to keep get harder the more narrowed down drafts become. Below is the last full chapter cut from A Place I Have Never Been, only a couple weeks before The State in the South was published. The logic behind this decision will be explained in subsequent post(s?), but for now you are welcome to read below.
Everything that follows could technically be considered canon, as it did happen in universe even if it remains in a state of unedited despair and without updated names and places. Take then that I’m only somewhat proud of this… as it was cut material after all. This was set to take place in the upcoming (gasp) Part III! Be on the lookout for more news about that in the coming weeks.
Memories
Midchannel, The Commonwealth of the River’s Bend; Telgora
5:19pm, 3Amek-Amek. 309.
Hako loved Northstate in the springtime. Winters were harsher here than anywhere else in Telgora. But the second the snow melted from all but the peaks of the mountains, life returned to the state. She loved to watch the grass regrow and the birds return. Her family’s estate lay set into the western part of the Nordkeiten Range, almost in Markeit. The wealth of copper in this part of the mountains had bought her family’s immense success. Because of that, she was able to study at Cobra’s Hood University. That was, of course, where she met him.
Zhaesha Koramakeisha Talapatrek.
Zhaekota.
He was no one. But he was a smart, funny, slightly eccentric no one. They shared a history class together, and he always ranted about how important the strength of the Telgoran people was through the country’s history much to the chagrin of the professors and students. His family, as opposed to hers, was nothing, in that he was an orphan. He had no personal wealth. No name. It was simply his drive and intelligence that placed him where he needed to be in order to meet Hako.
She couldn’t be happier about it.
Hako smiled as she thought about when they had first met as she looked out across the long drive that led to the front of her family’s white, columned mansion; Slass Skatten. They were off on the spring break, and that meant Hako had to return to her family’s estate to prepare for the day when she, as their sole heir, would inherit the mining company that defined the wealth and power of the Palatashee family. Zhaesha stayed in Cobra’s Hood, working at a small newspaper as a translator for one of its subsidiaries that printed in Fangbay.
But she smiled wider. He was coming up for a visit today.
They courted one another for nearly a year now, and her parents demanded to meet him. So, after she paid for his train ticket north, he took off work and would arrive at their estate sometime in the next twenty minutes. She waited outside for him, reading through reports of the tense delegations between Telgora and Acktine. The talks dragged on for years with intermittent violence.
Her parents were now diehard Confederates. Their house flew the red and gold banner of the party under Telgora’s national flag and Northstate’s flag. Their symbol was a large, golden flower with sixteen petals; one for each state. It was a young party, but it was going to be good for their family.
A horse-drawn carriage appeared on the horizon. Hako rose and ran down the steps to meet it before the house. Her boots crunched on the gravel pathway before clunking along the paving stones. The driver, a Nordkeiten man with the given Telgoran name of Zhutsheila, waved back, and slowed down.
“A pleasure to see you today, Kae’Hatekpa’shee,” he said, tipping his hat. “There’s a young man in here I’m sure you’re very pleased to see.”
Zhaesha climbed out of the carriage, and adjusted his black hair carefully in the reflection of the glass. He was short, thin, and wore a tailcoat in the newest style with somewhat-shined shoes and a slightly wrinkled white shirt. He had no tie on, which was common among younger men, but was noticeably clean-shaven. His face was narrow, and his gunmetal eyes were lively. His smile, as he turned to face Hako, was a smile that nearly stopped her heart. The two jumped the final few steps between them to embrace each other.
“How are you doing?” he asked as he let her go and reached back into the carriage for his bag.
“Much better, now that you’re here.”
“Why’s that?”
“Father’s been insufferable lately. He insists I should drop out of school and just focus on running the business instead.”
“I thought he’d let that go months ago. That’s disappointing.”
“Yes, but don’t mention that to him. I imagine you would get off on the wrong foot if you did.”
“What, me? The son of two nobodies from the big city here to steal their precious mountain gem away from them? I can’t imagine they’re too fond of me already.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“My, for all the class you might possess you have a mouth.”
Hako smacked his face lightly, and giggled. She played with his hair without having to move her arm much at all. Zhaesha shrugged her off and fished out his bag and a walking stick that bore a bronze cobra’s head.
“That’s new.”
“I bought it in the city just for today. I think it makes me look more… distinguished.”
He posed with it, like a heroic soldier.
Hako giggled.
The two of them locked arms, and walked towards the house. Hako’s parents stood ready and waiting at the door. Her father was a large man, but not necessarily because of muscle. His belly protruded from underneath his flowing green tailcoat and was constrained by obviously suffering buttons and cummerbund. He had large mutton-chops that spread out of his head like a cobra’s hood and his eyes were tiny, but radiantly blue.
Hako’s mother, on the other hand, was several heads taller than her husband. She wore a light blue, floor-length dress and a necklace of copper wire and sapphires. Her head seemed disproportionately small in comparison to her body, and its features had reminded Hako since childhood of a hawk. Her eyes fixed on the man Hako now walked with, and Hako saw her say something aside to her father.
“Greetings, people of the earth and sky,” Zhaesha said when they reached the foot of the stairs. He bowed low and removed his hat to reveal sleek black hair.
“May light fill your heart and darkness keep your mind,” Hako’s father said. “I am Ka’Treknapa’shei and this is my wife…”
“Kae’Fezhutpa’shei,” Hako’s mother said.
The two of them bowed back to Zhaesha.
“My name is Ka’Zhaekota’shee,” he said. “I am a classmate of your daughters and currently a translator at the Southern River Times. Thank you for having me as a guest in your home.”
“It is our pleasure,” Fezhutpa said, “We were very interested to meet the young man that our daughter speaks of so highly. It will be of note whether or not you meet those high expectations.”
“I hope so as well.”
“I don’t think so,” her mother said. Hako and Zhaesha exchanged nervous glances.
Hako sat alone in a side room off of their antechamber. She clutched the letter in her hands, but refused to read it anymore. Her mother stood in the doorframe. She sniffed to announce her presence.
“I’m happy to hear of it,” she said. “He wasn’t suitable for us.”
“It doesn’t say he’s dead…” Hako whispered. She tightened her fist around the letter.
“Casualties in Frozen Bay were high,” her mother said. “Don’t get your hopes up. We’ve sent word out to the other noble families in Northstate. It’s time you were married.”
“We’re Telgoran, not Nordkeiten,” she hissed back. “You don’t have the right to do this to me.”
“You are our daughter and you will respect our wishes!”
“I will not!” Hako stood and forced her way passed her mother. The air outside of her house was thick with the heat of summer. She walked along the gravel paths through her gardens and looked at the blooming flowers. There was a peace here. Her solitude. She read the letter again.
Kae’Hatekpa’shee,
We regret to inform you that this morning there was an attack by the Shinarian fleet on the Acktinian capital city of Frozen Bay. The attack was a surprise, and we were not able to inform and clear our embassy before it occurred. We have not been able to contact them since. The whereabouts of Ka’Zhaekota’shee, who designated you to be informed in case he fell during his service, are unknown. I apologize for any discomfort this news might give you. We will continue to update you as we know more.
Kae’Latashee’shei
Minister of War
She threw the letter down onto the ground and clutched at her side. Zhutsheila ran to her side, and patted her back.
“Is everything alright?” he asked. Hako shook him off and fell to her knees. He reached down, and read the letter on the ground. “Oh…”
“He’s going to come back…” Hako wept. “I know he will…”
“He will, Kae’Hatekpa’shee. He will…”
“He has to…a”
Hako stood on the train station in Cobra’s Hood. Her face was wet. It was hot. The train just pulled into the station. Steam and smoke gushed around her. She coughed. He wasn’t there.
“Hako come on.”
Her father pulled at her arm.
“A few more minutes.”
“He’s not coming.”
“Why isn’t he?”
“He’s a failure,” her father said. “We knew that the moment we met him. You’ve had a few good years but come on? Running for office at his age? It’s preposterous. Especially in Cobra’s Hood. I’m surprised the party ever nominated him. He won’t come, he can’t show his face.”
“Zhaesha would still come…”
“He’s ‘Zhaekota’ to you, now.”
Hako turned. Her mother was already on the train and waved impatiently at the two of them. Hako gripped her father tightly and sobbed. They hadn’t even waited for the election to end. Her mother decided they were leaving the city to vacation in Cressentalia for a year or two.
“I’m not leaving. Not yet.”
“This fanciful dream cannot go on anymore. He’s not going to…”
“Stop!”
They both heard the cry. The sleek black hair of Zhaesha appeared in the crowd. He waved his walking stick. The bronze cobra’s head shone in the fading sunlight. He wasn’t even wearing his tailcoat.
“Come on, Hako!”
“No! Dad no!” she broke free and ran towards Zhaesha.
The two of them hugged with all of the joy of their first encounter. He spun her around, and was laughing like a maniac. When he let her down, he was so excited that sparks flew from his hands. A few of them singed Hako’s dress, and he laughed some more before waving his hand and extinguishing them. They kissed, and she ignored the taste of whisky in his mouth.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Her father asked. He stepped between them, and unhooked the hidden sword in his cane. “You should be nowhere near my daughter.”
“Boy? Well I’m sorry, sir,” Zhaesha responded. He ignited his right hand but stayed at a distance. The wood of his walking stick slammed into Hako’s father’s blade. “I’m afraid you will have to address me as ‘Respected Councilmember.’”
“You won?” Hako squealed and ran past her father. The two of them hugged again.
“Impossible,” Hako’s mother said, having run off the train when Zhaesha had appeared. “How did you win anything?”
Zhaesha laughed at her, and bowed.
Hako sat behind her father’s desk in Northstate. A white veil was drawn around his picture on the wall. The curtains behind her were closed. A bottle of some nondescript liquor Zhaesha sat beside Hako’s right hand. She sniffed slightly as she reached for it again. In front of her sat her father’s open will, including a contract that would make Hako the leader of her family’s mining operations.”
“I didn’t want this.”
“I know.”
Zhaesha sat on the opposite side of the table. His hat was off, and his hair askew. Over his trench coat he wore a large, black cloth that hung to his wrists and the middle of his front and stomach; a traditional mourning garment for the Telgoran.
“I’m not ready.”
“You are. You’ve always been ready.”
“I’m not ready because I thought, when it happened, there’d be more time.”
“There’s never enough time, you know.”
“Must you always have an answer for everything?”
She threw the bottle at him, and he narrowly avoided it. It shattered against his chair and he stood to stop himself from getting soaked. Hako took out a cigarette and placed it in her holder. She fumbled for matches.
Zhaesha walked around to the other side of the desk and held her. He reeked of alcohol, but whether that was from him or from the broken bottle, she didn’t know. Quietly, he extended his hand to the end of her holder and snapped his fingers. Her cigarette lit, and she took a long drag before pushing him away.
“You don’t have to do anything alone anymore,” he said.
“I’ve always been taught to do things alone.”
“We’re a team. Now and forever. I’m not going to leave you.”
“Please don’t.”
“I promise. This is all just a nightmare right now. Sooner or later you’ll wake up.”
Hako sat beside her husband in the Central Council. Confetti in the Telgoran national colors of red, white, gold, and black rained down from the ceiling. Applause filled the room. Zhaesha stood at a podium. His energetic, lively voice boomed through the chamber. He spoke of the glory of Telgora, of how honored he was to be where he stood. To be the Chair of the greatest country in the world.
He turned around, and extended a hand to Hako. She took it. It was warm. His hands always got warm when he was excited.
“None of this would be possible, of course, without the love and support of my wonderful wife!” he exclaimed to the assembled politicians.
Again, applause filled the chamber. Hako blushed, and tried to refuse Zhaesha’s attempt to have her stand. He smiled down at her, and eventually she consented and stood at the podium beside her husband. She was stunned by the flashbulbs of photographers as she waved to everyone assembled. Zhaesha came up behind her, and they kissed before the nation. She was happy. She never wanted this to end.
Hako’s eyes opened, and pain wracked her body. The sounds of small machines, bustling movements, and moaning patients drowned out the fading memories of Zhaesha’s election. She was confused, and turned her head despite the burning feeling in her neck.
Next to her sat Zhaesha in an uncomfortable looking chair. His hair was messy, and streaked with flecks of grey and thin patches. His clothes were dirty and rumpled, stained, and disheveled. His face was covered in stubble, greyer than his hair. It looked like it itched beyond measure. When he saw she was awake, he bolted from his chair and grabbed her hands. His hands were cold. She could hardly remember a time when his hands had been cold.
“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice broke. His eyes fixed intently on her own. He did not appear to blink.
She tried to speak, but her mouth refused to open. Hako suddenly realized that her lungs burned with every breath, and wheezed enough to drown out her own thoughts. She wiggled her fingers as best she could, and Zhaesha squeezed her hands even harder. Tears formed in his eyes, and dripped down his nose to land on her face. He gasped softly to himself and tried to brush them away. When he exhaled, she smelled the unmistakable odor of his favored, inexpensive whisky on his breath.
Hako tried her best to turn her face into something resembling a questioning glace. Zhaesha’s expression mirrored hers, attempting to figure out her point. Then his glance softened.
“It was a bomb,” he said. “We don’t know who.”
Her look persisted.
“We’re going to get to the bottom of it, I promise. Very soon. I uh… how… how are you doing I…”
Zhaesha gagged on a sob and rested his head on Hako’s chest. She eyed him, and then placed her hand onto his head. She struggled to speak.
“It’s… alright. Don’t… lose…con…”
“I won’t… I promise. I know, what you mean…” Hako groaned, and Zhaesha lifted his head. Their eyes locked. She questioned him without moving, scanned his face and managed a grimace. Zhaesha looked away. He squeezed her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I compromised. But it will be okay. I promise. I promise… It will be okay. I’ve handled it…”