CHAPTER VIII: Innocent Blood

K'rar was shattered. He had never considered that this was in Garrera's playbook at all. Lady Esella couldn't even move from her tent. An entire village, and he still had the nerve to ask one survivor to find the procession and deliver the shocking news. But that was not the only problem for K'rar and his men. They had just learned that Garrera was already within striking distance. For his men this was the more immediate problem, and that is why Ashdud had not left K'rar's tent since the young man from Ursa came with the news and the ultimatum from Garrera. Three of his other men were stationed outside waiting for his instructions, but all knew pretty well that this meeting would take much longer. The stakes were more than just the fact that the war was closer to them than they had hoped. This now involved the card of K'rar's mother, and they knew that this would be at least one of the most important factors in this crisis.

Ashdud, Lady Esella, Kanga, Mongoose and Pliny were locked up inside K'rar's tent, assessing their next move. K'rar had not said a thing since the meeting started abruptly half an hour ago. He just sat in the middle of it, brooding and holding his head in his hands. So now everyone sat in the tent quietly, waiting for him to make a sound. He at long last said something, after a long silence of about five minutes.

'Garrera already had my mother in custody, so he knows I am less concerned about that than what he did to that village.'

'He's drawing us into the war. He knows the country will call for revenge, and they want you to give it to them,' said Pliny.

'No. That isn't it, Pliny. He's turning the population against me. Anywhere we go, Garrera will use the same threat, and the people will not want to have me within their walls.'

'Then we will stay away from populated areas, as we have been,' said Lady Esella.

'We were never in Ursa, though, Your Majesty.'

The discussion went on for about twenty minutes, and there was no answer given for the reason why Ursa was massacred other than the fact that Garrera was trying to instill fear in his own people, which had no connections with K'rar or his group because as Lady Esella had said, the camp was staying away from populated areas unless it was inevitable. They concluded that Garrera was actually trying to draw them out into an engagement for revenge, which they would definitely not do. The royalists were a little bit greater in numbers, but a lot of them were just a bunch of vagabonds whom K'rar's men had picked randomly and trained for hit-and-run, ambush tactics, not for conventional head-to-head battle. The best chance K'rar had was to march north and meet up with Hone forces waiting there for him.

But they couldn't be more wrong than they were. The meeting was still being held when a soldier interrupted them with the news that another Ursan, a survivor, had arrived at the camp and had a message for K'rar from Garrera. K'rar immediately got up,

'Bring him in,' he said. And Yorgi was brought into the tent. Yorgi did not need introductions to tell that K'rar was the king, being the only boy in the tent when he came in. Yorgi immediately set about staring at him with hateful disdain and fury. K'rar and his companions didn't miss it.

'Will you not pay your respects to the king?' Pliny implored the young man, who didn't even bat an eye.

'Why should I?' Yorgi snapped, 'you are the reason why my village was massacred. I lost all my friends.'

'How dare you…'

'Let him be,' K'rar said to Ashdud, who was about to smack Yorgi with his fist, 'let him be. My friend, why do you say I am the cause? Did you not see whose soldiers attacked your village?'

'I did. But if you weren't out here hiding like a coward, if only you saw that you have lost the throne, perhaps I could still have my friends with me.'

K'rar looked around him, and said,

'Give us the room. Lady Esella and Ashdud, stay.'

They cleared out the room.

'This isn't the message you had for me is it?'

'No,' said Yorgi, 'it's from the General. He has your mother. If you have not surrendered by noon the day after tomorrow, the king will execute her. He says it doesn't have to end that way. Disband your forces and surrender by noon the day after tomorrow at Magherita. Then your mother can live.'

'Screw him,' Ashdud swore.

'If you do not show up at Magherita after tomorrow, you know how this ends,' said Yorgi, indifferent to Ashdud's passions, 'you don't have enough men nor experience. This is non-negotiable.'

K'rar knew that it was now impossible to escape Garrera's forces. The nine miles between them were short, and now it was obvious Garrera was in no magnanimous mood. The gruesome actions at Ursa would also have reached the ears of the rest of the group, made up mostly of noncombatants happy only to be gallivanting this way and that with the king, but not having their families executed in return. He had exterminated an entire village, and was now calling for Queen Mother Noor-shan's head.

'Does Garrera really think killing an entire village will endear the country to him?' K'rar was baffled, 'and how come you are gladly working for him after what he did?'

'He didn't kill them. You did. You lost the throne, sir. Constantly holding on to your past glory is costing your kingdom. If you really care about us, then perhaps you should be considering what's best for the nation, and that doesn't include you continuing this rebellion.'

'So I should just hand over myself to be killed?'

'The General knew you'd ask that. It appears your mother has been appealing to him on your behalf. I do not know the details. He will tell you himself, after tomorrow, Magherita.' And Yorgi stood up to leave.

There was a lot of discussion after that, and still K'rar maintained his quiet, contemplative attitude as his advisors said all sorts of things. They were, however, sharing his view, which was to ride north and meet up with the Hone forces there, and hope for the best. But no one was ready for what he said next.

'I will go down to meet him.'

The shock in the tent was almost its own physical presence, shutting up the inmates of the tent immediately.

'To meet who, Your Majesty?' Lady Esella asked, more for clarity than for confirmation.

'I need to see my mother,' said Ashdud, 'Garrera's given us two days. That is a truce, isn't it?'

'Forgive me, Your Majesty, but that is a bad idea. He just killed 300 villagers, you cannot really trust that he will just let you go if you pay him a courtesy visit.'

'No, but Garrera was a good friend of my father's before he was corrupted by the Goldorans. And, he hasn't killed my mother after all this time. I am going down.'

'My lord, let me go instead. Let me go ahead of you and acquire safe passage, please,' Ashdud pleaded.

'They will certainly slit your throat.'

'His second, Lankh, was my brother-in-arms. If I meet him secretly and deliver your request, he will deliver it to Garrera.'

'And he will not kill you for his master?'

'It's better for me to die than for you to be captured, my lord. Lankh will not kill me. He owes me his life. I saved him all those years ago in the Moon conflict.'

K'rar conceded, and Ashdud immediately set about preparing his journey to Magherita. Garrera's camp was stationed just outside Magherita city, facing westward on flat terrain. The face of the mountain that harbored the constabulary was facing them, and for a keen eye the Ursan ruins were visible from the camp. They had chosen a large spot, for the accommodation of the incoming throng of Goldoran soldiers. They had also chosen to place it right in front of Magherita to send that city's denizens a stern message. The nation had to accept that Garrera was king one way or another, but as long as their rightful king was still breathing, Garrera knew that even a reign of terror would not be enough to force it down the guts of these highly nationalistic peoples of Korazin.

At dusk Ashdud set off with Pliny and another soldier. On horseback they would get to Magherita within three hours at full pelt. Most of the way there was simple, as they took the dust road, until they crossed a culvert over the river, and then took on the hills and a snaky road. It darkened quickly, and there were constant mild thunderclaps overhead, which intensified as they closed in on Magherita. The mountainous winds were blowing cold, carrying with them that ominous whisper. The men didn't stop once until they came to a slope overlooking the small city. There were dim twinkling lights emanating from the city. The other lights and fires from Garrera's camp were also visible, and the three men could make out some of the tents. They remained stationary at the ridge for a moment to study the lay of the area, and Ashdud said,

'How sad that we didn't see this coming. That son of a bitch.'

There were about five sentries at the entrance of the camp, two of them goofing around, when Ashdud showed up, under a hood. He instructed the third soldier he came with to hang back and gallop back in case anything happened to him, while he and Pliny approached the ramshackle perimeter of the camp of the Goldorans. The sentries saw them and immediately readied themselves for an altercation.

'Halt! Who goes there?' said the lad sentry to them, while another hoisted a torch to reveal the visitors' faces.

'My name is Ashdud.' Ashdud said to them, and jumped off of his horse to draw closer, at which he added, 'I seek audience with Lieutenant Lankh, the General's second.'

'The king's second, you mean?'

'He isn't my king,' Ashdud said quickly and as bluntly as he could. The sentry's look revealed he wanted to cause a hullabaloo out of this, but his conscience defeated him, and he said,

'You are from the boy's camp aren't you?'

'You are a Korazite, idiot. The boy is your king,' said Pliny.

'I will take my chances,' said the sentry, 'wait here. I will go summon General Lankh for you. Who shall I say seeks his audience?'

'The same. Ashdud.'

Lankh came out quickly. He and Ashdud were on hostile terms, but their past required a high level of civility between them. They had both fought for the Moon Province when that nation called up arms against Goldora for its complete independence. The larger part of the Moon Province had been under Goldoran administration for close to a century, although the Province had achieved independence, officially, after the first war just over a century ago in which Korazin sided with the Province and helped them to win, under K'rar's great grandfather's reign. That was until their own nationalists grew tired and called for total independence, which was swiftly denied so that they had to take it by force. K'rar's father had just become king when the second independence war began, and he had been advised to fight for the Moon Province, the easternmost nation on the Moabian promontory. This decision had worsened the already belligerent relationship with the Goldorans, and in the aftermath of the war, the Southern Frontier Division was recommissioned and stationed with clenched teeth along the southern border. The independence war had lasted a year and a half. Ashdud and his dear friend Lankh had sailed there to fight for the Province as youthful soldiers, and at the end of it had both made a name for themselves.

Lankh was about six feet eight inches tall, easily the tallest man in Korazin, if not the entire continent. He always wore a long, black cloak and heavy boots that accentuated his height, and carried his sheath on his right side, being a left-handed soldier. Lankh had sustained a session of torture from Goldorans that left a permanent laceration scar across his left cheek, which had gutted him so bad because he was a man who minded his looks. It was a dark mark on his face now, conspicuous even from a distance. The two men stood some meters from each other at first. Lankh was wearing a wry face, while Ashdud maintained a look of disbelief. After a minute Lankh pointed to a tent of supplies, which would be a quiet place, and began walking there. Ashdud directed Pliny to follow closely, as he caught up with Lankh's huge steps.

'I thought you had some honor left, Lankh. You are now just like them,' Ashdud said to him from behind as they went into the tent and stood next to a consignment of rice wine. Pliny stationed himself outside to watch eavesdroppers or hostiles.

'You're not going to try and make me feel remorseful about the village are you?' Lankh said to his old friend.

'Even the Goldorans were never this wicked, Lankh. An entire village!'

'The way I see it, it appears to have sent our message. I suppose you are here to negotiate the terms of surrender, old friend.'

'I can't tell if it's you who corrupted the General or the other way around.'

'Does it matter?'

'It does. The Goldorans gave you a permanent scar, and because of it you lost your betrothed. Yet you work for them.'

'Ashdud, that was close to 30 years ago. Things have changed since then. Including my priorities.'

Ashdud dropped his face and scoffed,

'Did you really believe that killing the entire village will make the nation bow to your king? You have fought in a revolution before. You know more than anyone that the heart of the nation is its people. You and your king will not last after what you did.'

'Who said we did it?'

'What?' Ashdud said, 'what are you…oh, no.'

Ashdud had completely missed it. They all had. The new realization was so profound it made his insides churn. His old friend resumed his sinister smile, and added a sarcastic chuckle. He leaned back against something to wait for Ashdud to swallow that very bitter pill. It took Ashdud almost two minutes to regain his strength and stand upright, but the devastated complexion did not change. He said, sotto voce,

'My king wishes to speak with his mother. He knows she has no future, so I came to ask for safe passage and a temporary truce.' Even for Ashdud his words made even more sense. What he had just realized would give Garrera all the rights to execute his king's mother.

'A temporary truce?' Lankh laughed, 'how can you be sure we will not strike him down the moment he sets foot in this camp? Besides, you have until after tomorrow. There's your truce.'

'Garrera hasn't killed his mother yet. The king's family were good to him…'

'Wrong. He hasn't killed her because she's not the prey. As I think you know, we cannot let the boy live if we must have a smooth transition.'

'But Garrera is a soldier. So on his soldier's honor, ask him to let the boy see his mother at least before either he or his mother is killed. We are only eight miles away, and you have the upper hand. What have you got to lose? Let the boy meet his mother without incident. After all you have given him two days to surrender.'

'Because we think he will actually surrender? We both know how this ends.'

'Still, what have you got to lose? Let him through, and if he doesn't surrender, then, may the best man win.'

Lankh leaned back from his slouching posture and came closer to Ashdud, looking down at him like a dwarf.

'I will put your request in tonight. But you should leave now. If he agrees, I'll send a man after you.'

The General's second escorted his old friend to the exit and saw him off into the dark with his men. He didn't turn around until he was certain they were a safe distance away. He immediately walked to Garrera's tent at the back of the camp. The General was by himself, reading some documents he had received that evening. There was no need to look up to know that it was Lankh who had come in, his height was discernible from the corner of the General's eye.

'Turns out my wife is handling herself well,' he said without looking down from the content he was reading.

'Sir?' Lankh said.

'Updates, from Chaldea,' said Garrera, holding up the letter he was reading, 'there was bad blood between her and Maldab. She won.'

'Oh. Well, when the cat is away…'

'She had the Royal Forces march into the Korah, apparently to teach Maldab a lesson in humility.'

'Really? Wow she's got guts.'

'And I like it,' said Garrera, smiling, 'so what brings you here at this hour?'

'We had a visitor.'

'A visitor?'

'The deposed king wants to meet his mother. He wants a temporary truce before the time expires day after tomorrow.'

'He was here? K'rar was here?'

'No. His men were. It was Ashdud.'

'Did he have to use back channels?'

'He trusted me not to have him captured or killed.'

'His mother has been pestering me about him,' said Garrera, 'hmm. What makes him think I will not kill him the moment he sets foot in my camp?'

'You initiated the truce. Soldier's honor.'

Garrera paused to ponder for a moment.

'I'll have 50 men await them at the entrance, armed and armored.'

'We might not even need that. Kaputska and his forces will be here by morning. That should send them the intended gesture.'

'Good. That is good.'

Ashdud was galloping back north with more urgency than when he was riding south to Garrera's camp. But even after assessing within himself what their next move would be, he couldn't conjure a good answer. He was now hoping on the young king's perspicacious mind to do that. Garrera had leaped into the ascendancy now after being behind them for over a year. The strategy of turning the nation against its own king was the ultimate magic move, and Ashdud knew that the king was up against something that he may not be able to undo.

Ashdud and his team arrived at their camp sometime past midnight, and he jumped off the horse without tethering it to run toward K'rar's tent. The men guarding it wanted to tell him the king was asleep, but he brushed past them like a hostile wind. To his relief K'rar wasn't sleeping. He was wide awake under his blankets, unable to catch any sleep, and when Ashdud walked in he sat up straight and asked for the result of the trip.

'We will receive word shortly, Your Majesty,' said Ashdud gloomily. K'rar didn't miss it.

'There's more than that. What is it?' he wanted to know. Ashdud remained reluctant to explain, 'Ashdud what is it?'

'The Ursa massacre. We missed the motive. They are saying we did it, and that's the story going around the nation.'

K'rar did not fully comprehend the meaning of this until Ashdud explained that K'rar and his camp had been turned into the rebels now. The nation would now turn on them. K'rar dismissed Ashdud and curled himself up again. For about a couple of hours the boy recalled the events that had unfolded during the last year, and with each thought, a large tear formed and cascaded down his cheeks. All the good moments were insignificant, including the swift victory at Magherita Constabulary. All he could remember was the last moments with his father, when the old man was about to leave the burden of a shattered nation on his shoulders, and the strife that followed shortly afterwards. K'rar had figured out that there was a plot against his father, but he couldn't calculate the magnitude of it, or how the plot would severely corrode his own reign. The boy wept, at first silently, and then his weeping transformed into audible sobs. In the adjacent tent, Pithadia's ear was attentive for any sound emanating from this tent, and as K'rar had feared, the young lady came around to his tent, but not because she had heard him sob. He did not want to be found weeping by her of all people, but he couldn't muster up the courage to dismiss her, so she sat next to him and attempted to comfort him. She was successful in that he quietened up, and sat up next her, still clutching the frocks of his covering.

'I am out of options, Pithadia. Garrera has turned my own nation against me.'

Pithadia remained silent, knowing very little about the dynamics K'rar was talking about. K'rar went on,

'If I were in your position, I would be better off.'

This time Pithadia shook her head to disagree.

'No, my lord. Don't say that.'

'Why not?' K'rar said between sobs, 'I have lost my father, my kingdom, my home, my people, and my mother will soon die at the hands of the same enemy. What did I do to deserve this?'

'But, my lord, you have men who believe in you, and many friends. They will die for you at any time. In my position there is no such luck.'

'That's my point, Pithadia. Why must these men lay down their lives for me?'

'Because you are the king,' said Pithadia in simple terms.

'Am I? Am I the king?'

K'rar drifted back into sleep slowly, and then Pithadia began to weep in his behalf before she returned to her own tent.

K'rar's depression was written all over is face by morning. Lady Esella had come into his tent while he slept, and seen the remnant of tears on his face. K'rar had been turning in his bed as though he had a stomachache. His hair was disheveled and disorganized, and he looked to have fallen off of the bed during the night. Lady Esella wanted to deliver the news that Garrera had honored the ceasefire and allowed K'rar safe passage to Magherita to see his mother. But she let him sleep off until he awoke, so she and some of K'rar's other high officials remained outside of his tent. K'rar heard them speaking when he did wake up. As usual Pithadia was inside the tent with him, and was readying his water, his garments and his meal. K'rar snatched the garment only, wiped his face down with a wet towel, brushed past her without a word to meet those outside. Ashdud, Mongoose, Ossus and Lady Esella were sympathizing with him. They ceased immediately, when K'rar came out, and all made their bows. K'rar was much the opposite of last night. He was high spirited and vibrant. He said,

'Let's go. I want ten men with me, and ten men in a reserve team following closely behind.' He knew that the truce was on.

'Your Majesty, they've set up the meeting in the city. Do you still want to go there?'

'Yes.'

'I don't trust them, my lord. It could be a trap,' Lady Esella was saying. It appeared this is what she'd been discussing with the men, 'Garrera never cared about honor, my lord. He is likely to double-cross you.'

'Then we make our own leverage. That young man whom they sent here. He knows the truth. We capture him, the tide turns in our favor.'

'Capture him how, my lord?'

'Ashdud, you lead the infiltration team into the camp, after we go into the city,' said K'rar, 'meantime I need Kanga to lead the rest of the camp on the trek north. They can't wait for us.' K'rar's men knew he was employing the same strategy as he did against Magherita constabulary just days prior.

'Yes sir,' Ossus went away to relay the commands to Kanga, which meant that Ossus himself, higher up than Kanga, would be coming with K'rar. K'rar and Ashdud hastily organized themselves, preparing thirty-one men to ride with them in two teams. K'rar wanted to be disguised for most of the way to avoid any surprises along the way, and he would travel with just two men, Ashdud and Pliny, at first. They were unlikely to encounter any hostiles along the way, but both K'rar and Ashdud always emphasized that it is better to be ready than to be sorry. Like the night before, the gallop was swift and quick. But along the road to the east of the village of Ursa, K'rar stopped his horse, and turned it to face the village. Even from afar it seemed lifeless. They had not only slaughtered the villagers, but also burned down their houses. And, the dead in it couldn't save him from the nation by crying out the truth about what happened to them. K'rar was unsure of his own feelings. He couldn't tell if he was angry or sad or both. He directed someone to check what had been done with the bodies, and went on his way. Magherita was less than a few minutes' ride from Ursa. They got there in just over half an hour, and as they approached the open city, they could make out a horde of people converged in one place, seemingly cheering or protesting something. The thirteen men had detoured toward Garrera's camp to capture Yorgi, led by Ashdud, and K'rar had taken Pliny with him to the city with the rest.

'What is happening?' K'rar asked Pliny.

'Let me go ahead and find out, my lord,' Pliny said, and K'rar agreed with a nod. Pliny took just one other man with him, and came to the entrance of the city. Magherita was not a walled city like the capital and Cockroach, neither was it fortified like most southern towns and cities. Pliny went in through the mouth of a food market, which was depleted because several vendors had joined the mass of people drifting away toward an open space some blocks away from the market. Pliny approached one of the few vendors, mostly ladies, who had remained behind tendering their stalls, and asked her what the heck was going on.

'It's the new king. He is taking Queen Noor-shan to the gallows for execution. Can you believe the king turned on his own people? Executed an entire village!' the woman said.

'I do not,' said Pliny, 'now what do you mean by executing the Queen Mother?'

'Oh, I thought you live around here? The people want her head to pay for her son's sins.'

'What the fuck!' swore Pliny, 'the king did no such thing! Do they have any evidence implicating her?'

'Well they have one of the rebels. He confessed before the whole city,' said the woman, 'you almost sound like you are one of them.'

Pliny looked down at his companion, and nodded to him an inaudible order. The man mounted his horse and made as if to leave, but Pliny waved to him to wait.

'Lady, what do you mean one of the rebels, where did they catch him? Where is he? Where is Garrera?'

'Garrera?' mimicked the vendor, 'I'll be damned. You are one of them. The rebel is at the square too. He will be executed with the queen.'

'Fucking traitors,' Pliny was furious, 'now they're even fabricating evidence!' while he rode on toward the square to see for himself, his comrade rode back outside the city to appraise K'rar of the situation. Pliny stuck his horse into an enclosure of an inn somewhere and threw some kori to the steward he found there, and told him he wanted to use his roof. Some of the houses, like this one, had flat roofs. On this roof Pliny could see the whole procession and make out some faces, and the first face he made out was the tall figure of Lankh. Next to him, as always, was his king, riding a horse in the open, pretending to be indifferent to the madding crowd cheering and chanting slogans. Behind him were the horses pulling the wood cage in which Lady Noor-shan was, with the alleged witness. The esteemed lady had not been harmed, and it looked to Pliny as if the crowd had spared her from its expected usual behavior in such a situation, which involved throwing projectiles at her. An entourage of nearly 60 men was with them, armed to the teeth, some guarding Garrera, some around the cage, and others watching for any misdemeanors. Pliny raced back downstairs and snatched his horse from the enclosure, but he had hardly cleared the distance back to K'rar's location when he encountered him and his entire team racing toward him, looking very stalwart and apoplectic.

'We're going to get my mother,' K'rar said without the slightest of a stammer, and then began pumping the plan into Pliny's head. K'rar had known, as had Ashdud and Pliny, that Garrera was bound to try something out of the playbook, and they'd just found out what it was. He had agreed to K'rar seeing the Queen Mother, but he had said nothing about the venue of this reunion. While K'rar didn't expect to be put in a small room with flowers and fruit and drink, he wouldn't have imagined, in his wildest dreams, that Garrera would parade the Queen Mother before the whole city to execute her. K'rar had immediately called off Ashdud's secret mission by sending a man to the camp to retrieve the rest of the men. He was planning on concentrating all their height and power here to try and get his mother out. Pliny immediately disagreed with the plan.

'My lord, there's too many people and too many soldiers. We cannot get her out, not without exposing you in the process.'

'He dishonored the agreement, and he's going to have my mother executed.'

'Permission to speak freely Your Majesty.'

'You're going to explain to me how we're playing into his plans?'

'There's that, my lord, but no. Garrera wants you, Your Majesty. Not your mother. He knows that you'd try a heroic move to try and get her, so he'll be more than ready for us. He knows you'll show up, and this is all just an elaborate show of force. He will not execute her until you make an appearance. And he knows we cannot try and steal her right from under everyone's noses, and that's why he's doing all this.'

'Then what if I do not show up?'

'Then…' Pliny was reluctant.

'He'll hang her. And, if I show up, he's going to make me try and trade my life for hers, which mom wouldn't agree with, which you do not agree with.'

'Yes, Your Majesty. It is better if your life is not jeopardized at all. Queen Mother knows this, and…' it was the sound of approaching hooves from the direction of the city. Garrera's men were coming toward them. Everyone armed themselves, and planted themselves in front and around K'rar. Lankh was leading the procession that came, a team of about 20 horsemen, also ready to draw their weapons. The two sides faced off with each other on the open road, as if sizing each other up. There were few other souls lingering around, as almost the whole city was packed up like a school at the scene of the pending execution. Lankh rode his horse closer to Pliny's, who was the closest to him.

'You took too long. The king is waiting. Let's go.'

'Go where? You dishonored your own truce agreement. We aren't walking into a trap.'

'Your king will not be harmed, man,' said Lankh in the most condescending of tones, 'we broke no truce. The deposed king's mother is still alive, and if he wants so much to see her, and even save her life, now is the time. Who the hell are you anyway? You aren't Ashdud.'

'What the hell is this? We never agreed…'

'What we never agreed on was the time and place. Your deposed king was missing his mother, and we've arranged a meeting. Now make up your mind boy,' he directed the last words to K'rar, even though he was shielded by his men, 'you either come along and see the king and your mother, and make a deal. Or stay here and she's dead. Then we'll hunt you down too and kill you. You know your chances of escape are short, so we're not worried about honoring the truce because we'll catch you anyway. You have three minutes.'

An entire minute of that deadline passed, and there was only silence and tension. And then Ashdud and his men showed up. Ashdud immediately began yelling insults at Lankh,

'You fucking traitors! Isn't it enough that you have snatched the throne, exiled an innocent lady, now you have to humiliate another innocent woman?!'

'And whose fault is it, huh? Why are you whining like a nanny? The throne is not yours, and you have no capacity to take it back, but we have the capacity to do whatever the hell we want!' Lankh spat back, 'you have a minute now.'

Ashdud was out of control, and would have begun a swordfight if K'rar hadn't ordered him to stand down. K'rar himself came forward, engaged in a faceoff with Lankh, and said,

'I will not come down there. Go and tell your king that I am coming for him,' and he turned his horse around.

'Very well, then,' said Lankh, 'good luck meeting up with the Hones. I hope they're there, at the plains of Dura.'

K'rar and company had just been hit with a double whammy with those words, but none of them could catch a glimpse of the man's triumphant face to scrutinize it, because he had turned around and began galloping back.