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Apostle
Blood of the lions

Blood of the lions

Splendorous in its glory Mesou was one of the great three oasis city-states of the Karim kingdom. Second to none in Horei, it was the capital of various arts and learning institutions. Historians and common men agreed Mesou was worthy of being the crown jewel of Karim.

A circular city surrounded by a massive reinforced mud brick wall, Sentries roamed just outside. A myriad of huts and buildings surrounded the massive land mass in the center of the city. Dazzling blue crystal clear waters of the aquifer Atoma blessed the city with formed a moat around the landmass. A raised brick road went from the iron gates of Mesou to the top of the first layer of the landmass.

Known as the dwelling of the Aziz, the landmass had four consecutive layers, with steps leading to the next one. At the peak laid the home of the reigning family, the next layer the home of the smaller nobles, second to last the various learning academies, and finally the major healing and agricultural facilities.

Three guard towers had a smaller raised road leading to the academics and streams of water flowed throughout the city, carrying filth to the wilderness outside whereby dusk Atoma would spirit them away.

The lovely singing of the Aaira Peacebringers welcomed esteemed guests, and the drums of the Aaira Wardancers applauded the victorious warriors arriving home.

One day, both choruses greeted the tanned figure dressed in gold and drenched in carnage. An inviting song and hot-blooded drumming welcomed the second son of the lion.

Walking forward with purpose, a muscular behemoth of a man strode up the stairs of the mountain with purpose, uncaring for the mashed brains and shards of bone falling from his figure with every step.

Matted hair fell to his shoulders. A brown gaze tinted with yellow around the iris behold the world and found it lacking. The lion’s sun’s robes left part of his wide chest exposed, proudly displaying various scars.

The brute ignored the rabbles of the locusts making their racket around him as he made his ascent. The sheer distance needed to reach the mountain peak discouraged the unworthy from arriving at the heart of Mesou, but for the lion’s son, the trek was as simple as breathing.

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Within half an hour, he had reached the peak of the mountain, and the modest home of the Aziz, starkly contrasting the more grandeur homes of the lesser nobles below. To the patriarch of the Aziz family, those in power did not need to flaunt status like some shabby chieftain.

The might of their power should speak for itself.

Paying no heed to the saluting guards or the putrid smell of the sun beating on his blood-covered form, he pushed open the looming doors engraved with various symbols and went in.

Immediately, the lion’s sun focused on the stone seats in the back of the circular hall. The middle seat had various furs lining it and was the most imposing. There a man similar in looks to the brute sat, eyes closed and listening to his scribes recountings of various issues. He had a slimmer physique than the younger man and was shorter by half a head. A necklace of copper beads adorned his neck. A bronze signet ring displaying a singing serpent laid on his left ring finger.

Like his son, his tanned skin had scars decorating it. Black facial paint went down from the corners of his eyes to his jaw in jagged lines. One such line extended from his chin to his lower lip. His torso was bare and he wore a simple black skirt with a yellow sash.

Stopping a few feet away from the seated man, his son settled into a bow on his knees and his hands resting in front of him.

“Lord father, I have returned victorious. The heads of the enemy lie on pikes for the maggots to feast on”, Kader said with a booming voice, its sound echoing throughout the room.

The seated man simply hummed in acknowledgment and waved for the scribe to dismiss themself.

One brown eye tinted with yellow opened to regard the knelling behemoth as the seated man, Hamza Aziz, addressed his son. “So you have. Yet I see your time away hasn’t taught you decorum, my child. Nor when to quite yourself” he chided, idly gesturing towards the gore Hazar left in his wake.

Raising his head, Kader smiled in such a way it appeared to be the leer of a beast. “Decorum is for elder brother father. As the second son, I’m free to wage war and drink the finest wine. The sands are my land.”

Closing his eye, Hamaza simply said, “As of today, that is no longer true. While you and that foolhardy brother of yours were gallivanting around Horei, I thought it prudent for you two to learn proper responsibility. Have you yet forgotten your dancing instruction?”

Kader raised a brow. “My dancing instruction?”

Hamaza nodded. “It’s time for you to be married, Son, and strengthen our ties to the lesser nobles. If my flesh and blood were incapable of performing the ceremonial rites, our family’s legacy may as well be of lame fools.”

Thoughts of reputation were the farthest from Kader’s mind. A future peacefully at home tending to his beasts, teaching his sons and daughters warfare, and resting in the flower fields with his wife filled his mind.

Anguish filled his heart and tears spilled from his soul.