The time was 7:26 pm. The day was Saturday.

Narvari stood before a manor in the suburbs of Transu. It had taken her a three-and-a-half-hour bus ride from Sharmandi to Aburusa, the capital of Dorben, then another thirty-minute ride in a taxi to Transu.

Before leaving her home, she had gone to see Motongo. The death of his family hit him hard, and he was completely depressed. Seeing Narvari had brought a little light to his eyes, but it still broke Narvari’s heart how much pain the boy was going through. She couldn’t believe she had almost given in to her cowardice to not go and see her only friend. She was glad Dawuli had changed her mind. Thankfully, Motongo’s father had survived. At least the boy still had someone. Of course, she wished none of this had happened. But there was nothing she could do about it.

Afterward, Narvari had gone to see Governor Andaga because she needed information about Tsalaga Nokubenda. Since Tsalaga worked for Stein, Narvari believed he knew how to find Stein. So as soon as Governor Andaga gave Narvari the address of the minister, she didn’t waste any time traveling all the way to Transu in south-western Dorben.

Narvari glared at the opulent home. It looked exactly like the place Tsalaga Nokubenda would live — a massive house surrounded by beautifully trimmed hedges, and a red Mercedes-Benz parked in the driveway. Narvari frowned when she didn’t see Tsalaga’s white Rolls-Royce.

Was the man not home? Or maybe he had another car. Narvari moved closer to the house. She was surprised there was no security around. The last time Tsalaga came to her home, he did so with a whole entourage. Maybe Tsalaga’s bodyguards had gone out with him. Or maybe she had the wrong address altogether.

“Can I help you?”

Narvari turned to see a well-groomed man in a black suit, with an intercom, tucked in his left ear.

Narvari sighed. “Is Tsalaga Nokubenda home?”

“You mean the Honourable?”

Her grip around the straps of her backpack tightened. There was nothing honorable about that piece of shit. Also, how many Tsalaga Nokubendas lived here? Suppressing the sarcasm dying to pour out of her soul, she simply nodded.

“What do you want with him?” he demanded.

Narvari found herself growing more annoyed by the second. What had she expected though? That she could walk into the house of a minister of state so easily without any interference? Actually yes, she had expected that. But she had also come prepared.

“I’m an envoy from Sharmandi.” She showed the man her ID. It was too bad she had already turned in her badge after stepping down as captain. “I’m Narvari Shar, Captain of the WPU in Sharmandi. I have an important business with the minister.”

The bodyguard narrowed his dark eyes. They were full of suspicion as he stared at Narvari. He did not in the least look convinced. Narvari sighed. Would she have to waste her time here convincing this guard that the youth were encouraged to take up leadership roles in Sharmandi?

Narvari might have been the youngest person to pass the Captain’s Test at thirteen years old, but she wasn’t the youngest to have applied. Moreover, more than fifty percent of Sharmandi’s government was below forty years old, with five percent being between the ages of eighteen to twenty-five years old. She was not an anomaly as a teenage captain of WPU.

So why was this guy overreacting like that? All she said was that she was the captain, not the freaking governor.

“Ruben, is everything alright?”

It was a woman’s voice. And it came from behind Narvari.

“I’m sorry, Madam, but there’s a trespasser here.”

Narvari turned to see a beautiful middle-aged woman in a yellow floral dress. Narvari immediately recognized the woman. She had seen her a few times on TV by Tsalaga’s side. The minister did like to show off his wife. Narvari could see why.

“Mrs. Nokubenda,” said Narvari. “Is your husband home?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Narvari Shar. An envoy from Sharmandi.”

“Oh my. A Shar from Sharmandi,” said the woman, scrutinizing Narvari up and down. She nodded as if approving of Narvari. “Come with me, young lady.”

----------------------------------------

“So, you’re an envoy,” Mrs. Nokubenda said once they were settled in one of the white sofas in the large living room. “You work with the government?”

“That’s right, Madam. I am the captain of the WPU.”

Well, she had stepped down now as the captain, but her resignation had not been officially approved yet.

“Please just call me Martha.” The woman smiled, “So you’re the captain of the famous WPU, huh? You look so young. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Ah. So what they say about Sharmandi is true then.”

“And what do they say about Sharmandi?”

“Well, good things, mostly.” Martha chuckled. “They say you have a seamless blend of traditional and modern values. Some day I shall visit and experience the Kirriba culture for myself.”

“Isn’t your husband Kirriba?”

“Half Kirriba, yes. But his Kirriba side is not from Sharmandi. He’s from Majibi.”

“In Eastern Hill Province,” said Narvari, finally understanding why Tsalaga was so quick to turn on the Kirriba in Sharmandi.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“That’s right. He’s Dorbenese Kirriba.”

No wonder he sold us out. That bastard. “Where is he?”

“I’m afraid he’s not home. You know how busy politicians are.”

“Oh, I know all about it.” She laughed without humor. “When is he getting back?”

“He has an interview on DBC. He should be home by 8:30 or nine.”

Narvari looked at her wristwatch. She would have to wait another hour for the man. “I can wait.”

“Of course,” said Martha. “Well, I’m a little bored right now. I can keep you company if you want.”

Honestly, Narvari would love to be alone right now. But talking to Martha might speed up the time until Tsalaga returned. So she accepted Martha’s company, and the latter seemed rather interested in knowing more about Sharmandi and what it was like.

The conversation then geared back to Narvari’s family and eventually the great Erasmus Shar. Martha seemed shocked to hear that Narvari was the granddaughter of Erasmus Shar. The man was very well-known due to his connection with Dorben’s independence.

Before long, Narvari heard a car pull up in the driveway. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed. It was nine minutes to nine.

“Thank God, he’s here.” Martha beamed.

About damn time.

The front door opened and in walked the colossal son of a bitch.

As Martha excused herself to go meet her husband, Narvari discreetly removed the gun from her backpack and shoved it into the gun holster around her waist. Dorben had strict laws on firearms so she couldn’t just parade her guns around as she did in Sharmandi.

Narvari glanced at Tsalaga who was hugging his wife and smiling fondly at her. So he did have a heart after all. She almost didn’t want to kill him. Almost.

Martha pulled herself from his embrace. “You have a visitor from Sharmandi.”

“Sharmandi?”

“Yes. That’s her over there.”

The smile on Tsalaga’s plump face froze as soon as his eyes fell on Narvari. Narvari’s face remained neutral, but inside, an inferno ravaged her. Her hand hovered dangerously close to her gun. She would love to empty all her bullets inside his potbelly. But then he would be dead and she would not get the information she wanted.

Be calm, Narvari. Be calm.

“Miss Sh- Narvari Shar,” Tsalaga said, quickly masking the horror on his face with a smile too wide for comfort. “I didn’t know you were in Dorben.” Tsalaga clutched his walking stick and swaggered towards Narvari.

Narvari stood up, grabbing her pink backpack and carrying it on her right shoulder. She folded her arms.

“Martha, this is Narvari Shar,” Tsalaga smiled widely. Anyone who saw that smile would not realize the nervousness behind it, but Narvari would not be fooled. “She’s with the WPU. She’s here on urgent environmental business.”

Martha nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”

The smile suddenly vanished on the minister’s face the moment his wife disappeared.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Narvari clicked her tongue. “You should check that tone, minister. I am this close to blowing your brains out.”

“You dare threaten a minister of state in his own home?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Narvari in a tone that suggested she was not sorry at all, “would you rather I threatened you at your workplace?”

Tsalaga pointed his walking stick towards the door. “You know my guards are right outside.”

“Please call them. I bet they will be dying to meet me. Literally of course.”

“Little girl, do you think this is some kind of a joke? You may be all that in Sharmandi. But you are in Dorben now. My country. My house.” He tightened his fist around his walking stick while doing well to lower his voice. “Your title as captain of WPU means nothing here. You better leave before I call the police.”

“Sure. Go ahead. Call the police.” Narvari was in Tsalaga’s face. Her tone was even lower. Dangerously lower. “Maybe, we can both explain to them how you screwed with the Kirriba Treaty. I’m pretty sure your country, your house, would love that.”

Tsalaga’s eyes wavered. “What do you want?” Though he sounded more humble now, it wasn’t as humble as Narvari wanted. “You refused my offer and I left you alone. So what do you want from me?”

“Offer?“Narvari laughed. “Don’t you mean bribe? That’s okay, I’m not judging. At least, not for that. I’m here for something else.”

“What?”

“I want to know who sent you. Who was responsible for those raids on our plains? Who was after the bazwu? I want to know everything.”

“This is not your business, little girl. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Okay, first of all, call me a little girl again and I will slap you so hard you will lose all that weight. And your teeth, of course. Secondly, this is my business and I will stick my nose wherever the hell I want. Now start talking.”

Tsalaga paused. He shook his head. “I can’t tell you anything. He will kill me.”

Narvari drew the pistol from her hip and pressed it against Tsalaga’s belly. Tsalaga froze, his face contorting in shock.

Narvari glared at him. “I don’t think he would have much to kill if you’re already dead. Won’t you agree?”

“You won’t shoot me.” He tried to keep his words steady, but his hasty breathing betrayed him.

The expression on Narvari’s face did not change. “The man you’re working for sent demons to attack Sharmandi a week ago because we refused to give him the bazwu. Many people died in the process including my grandmother and my best friend.” She tightened her grip on the gun, digging it harder into his belly.

Tsalaga’s face paled. “Sharmandi was attacked? I never heard about that.”

“That’s not the point here, minister,” Narvari snapped coldly. “The point is that you are partly responsible for what happened to my people and our bazwu. The only reason I haven’t spilled your guts all over your fancy carpet yet is that you are the only one who can tell me where I can find that monster. Keep pissing me off and poor Martha would end up a widow.”

Tsalaga dabbed the sweat on his face. “I didn’t think he would send his men after you. I mean, he said he would handle it himself, but…” He gulped, probably after seeing the hateful look in Narvari’s eyes. “Okay.” He sighed in resignation. “I’ll tell you everything. Please, just… just put the gun away. Okay? Please.”

Narvari paused for a moment then put the gun away. She didn’t need one to kill this bastard anyway.

“We can’t talk here,” said Tsalaga looking around. “Come with me.”

Narvari followed the man into another room. It was an office with a large painting of Dorben’s presidential palace on the lemon-green wall. The picture of Dorben’s president, William Ntikoko, was on the opposite side of the wall.

Not waiting for Tsalaga’s invitation, Narvari sat. “Who is Stein?” She went straight to business.

Tsalaga gaped. “How do you know that name? I never mentioned it to you.”

“So you do know him. You’re working for him, aren’t you?”

“Was,” Tsalaga said quickly, raising his hands. “I admit, he paid me and some of my colleagues to give him access to Kirriba Plains but I don’t work for him anymore. The man tried to kill me, you know.”

“What do you know about him?”

The minister told Narvari that Doctor Hubert Stein was a chemist from Germany. He came to Dorben to find bazwu for his research. But Tsalaga didn’t think the man was an ordinary scientist.

“That doctor… he’s strange,” said he. “He really scares me. The last time I went to his place, he invited me into some kind of laboratory. But there was something off about the place.”

“What?”

“This might sound crazy, but I think the man may be into occultism or something equally dangerous. I don’t know. There was something evil and dark going on in that lab. I am sure of it.”

Maybe two weeks ago Narvari might have thought this was crazy. But after everything she had experienced in the past week, this wasn’t strange at all. On the contrary, it explained Stein’s connection to demons. The demon had called him master. Was Stein himself a demon disguised as a human? She didn’t understand much about demons. But if Stein were indeed a demon, then she would not be breaking any rules if she used her savaz against him.

“I understand if you want revenge for what he did,” said Tsalaga, “but the doctor is very dangerous and you need to stay away from him. That man isn’t afraid of anything.”

“Hmm. I will soon give him something to fear.” Narvari took a small notebook from her backpack. She slid it across the table towards Tsalaga. “Give me his address.”

Tsalaga hesitated for a while, but he eventually grabbed a blue pen from his table and started writing.