Doctor Hubert Stein punched the brick wall. Clenching his bruised fist, he snarled at the useless army before him.
“What the hell am I paying you men for?” The rage pulsating within him wanted to set everyone ablaze in the compound. “You’re telling me a group of spear-wielding nobodies chased you out while you had guns. That’s what you’re telling me?”
How could these men be so useless?
“Sir, they were not spear-wielders,” one of the men protested. “They were like… demons. We couldn’t even touch them. We can’t — ”
Stein struck the bulky man on the face, sending him toppling to the ground. “Stop trying to cover up your failures, you idiots.” He shook his hand vigorously at them. “Useless. You are all useless. I paid you good money to get me the bazwu and yet you failed me. Again. You are a bunch of useless fools.”
“Sir, if I may — ”
“You may not.” Stein glared at the short mercenary.
“But sir, we — ”
Stein fired a bullet right in the center of his head. The mercenary slumped to the cold hard floor in his own pool of blood. Stein’s furious gaze swept over the small army.
“I said you may not,” he growled, glaring at the dead man in disgust. “Anyone else has anything to say?”
Their faces were a mixture of shock and fear, no one daring to move or speak.
“Doctor Stein.” The voice came from behind.
Stein recognized John Clarke’s gentle voice. He turned to face him. “You’re here.”
Stein replaced his revolver on his belt holster. He buried his hands in the pockets of his khaki overcoat and sauntered towards the bespectacled man.
John glanced at the dead man. “Bad time?”
“No.” Stein shrugged. “Just dealing with failure. How could they be beaten by a group of spear-wielders?”
“Well, Doctor Stein, that’s because the WPU is not a group of spear-wielders.” John adjusted his spectacles. ” It’s Sharmandi’s finest warrior with top-of-the-line weapons. It doesn’t matter how many people you send there, the WPU will defend their home with their lives.”
“Then they will die trying.”
John smiled. “Or you will die trying.”
That made Stein halt. He respected John’s view for the most part since the English anthropologist had played a big role in helping him acquire bazwu from Dorben. But clearly, John didn’t know Stein at all. The younger man had no idea what Stein was capable of.
“And what makes you think that?” asked Stein.
“Sharmandi is not Dorben,” he said. “Unlike Dorben, Sharmandi cares about protecting its bazwu population.”
Stein raised a brow. “What are you talking about? Dorben gave me the permit to hunt in Kirriba Plains. Sharmandi can’t stop me from getting what’s mine.”
“Dorben gave you a permit?” John narrowed his eyes.
“Of course. I bought my way into Kirriba Plains. Those greedy idiots will sell their own children if you pay enough.” Stein chuckled in disdain.
John paused as if considering something odd. “That can’t be right.”
“Do I look like I care about the morality of it all?”
“You misunderstand my words, Doctor Stein,” said John. “I meant Dorben doesn’t have the right to grant anyone permission to hunt in Kirriba Plains.” The confusion must have been visible on Stein’s face because John sighed in frustration and said, “You do know that Dorben and Sharmandi are two different countries, right?”
“Look, I don’t care about such things,” said Stein. “That’s what I hired you for. What I want is my four-tusk elephants and I’ve already paid for them.”
“You paid off Dorben, not Sharmandi.”
“Same thing.”
“Not at all.”
Stein clenched his jaw. “Were you not the same man who said Sharmandi is one of the eight provinces of Dorben?”
“I think you misunderstood me, Doctor Stein,” said John. “What I said was that Dorben and Sharmandi share such a strong bond that the Dorbenese affectionately refer to Sharmandi as the eighth province of Dorben. They may be one island, but they are still two different countries.”
Stein frowned. He had been so obsessed with getting his hands on the four-tusk elephants that he had not had time for these things. Besides, Dorben and Sharmandi used the same currency, had the same official language, and freely traveled across their territories without any travel documents. It was easy to assume that Sharmandi was a province in Dorben, especially given how tiny Sharmandi was in terms of both size and population.
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Stein glanced at the small empty compound, his eyes falling on the armed men quietly following every word of their conversation. “Clean up the mess,” he instructed, nodding at the dead body sprawled on the ground.
“Come with me, John.” Maybe it was time he knew better about the people standing in his way.
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Inside Stein’s living room, the cool breeze from the air conditioner was a welcome to the blazing inferno coursing through his veins. People not giving him what he wanted always got on his last fucking nerves.
“What do you know about Sharmandi?” Stein’s gaze would not leave the dark-haired man.
John Clarke smiled. “Doctor Stein, are you familiar with the village, Kirrimandi?”
This man and his cryptic ways, Stein thought. After working closely with John for a few months, he knew that the anthropologist always had a good reason for bringing up seemingly irrelevant things. Stein would just have to play along.
Burying his impatience, Stein shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“It literally means Land of the Kirriba,” said John. “In the 1800s when Europe raced to get a piece of Africa, many wanted this kingdom. Like most of Africa, Kirrimandi was a land of vast natural wealth. They had water resources, vegetation, mineral deposits, and flourishing wildlife, most of which cannot be found anywhere else in the world. Like the bazwu.”
Stein raised a brow. Was Kirrimandi referring to Sharmandi then? Or was it Dorben? These were the only places in the world where four-tusk elephants existed.
“The Kirriba were brave warriors who fought fearlessly to keep their home free from invaders,” John continued. “But bravery is not enough if your enemy wields a gun and all you have is a spear.” As if he had remembered an inside joke, John laughed. “Yes, Kirrimandi was made up of a group of spear-wielders, Doctor Stein.”
“What happened to them?”
“Well, long story short, Kirrimandi became a British colony,” said John, “and it was renamed South Rodenshire.”
“Right.” Stein narrowed his eyes. “But I do not see the point of this history lesson, John.”
John gave one of those smiles that showed that he knew something no one did. “1942,” he said. “Everything changed in 1942.”
Stein Scoffed. “Let me guess. They achieved independence but still rely on everyone else for everything just like the rest of Africa.”
“You’re half correct,” said John. “In 1942, South Rodenshire did achieve independence. And that was thanks to the action of one man. Erasmus Shar.”
Stein tilted his head. “Erasmus Shar? I think I know that name.”
“Of course you do, Doctor Stein. Everyone knows the name.” John laughed. “You know, the Kirriba don’t have last names so it’s not clear if Erasmus Shar was Kirriba or not. We know nothing about him except that he was an engineer and an explorer who changed the very lives of the Kirriba.” John rested his head in his palm. There was mirth in his hazel eyes as he spoke. It was like his historical lecture was giving him a lot of pleasure. “Many of the accounts about the man seemed to be inflated but what is common among all of them was that Erasmus rallied the Kirriba to fight back their oppressors. He was like an army of demons conjured from the fiery pits of hell itself.”
“How poetic.”
“I assure you this is no poem, Doctor Stein. Those were the very words of Governor Luke McLean when he described Erasmus Shar. The stories say that Erasmus alone crushed the entire British army as though they were nothing but termites under his feet.” He shrugged. “As I said, some of these stories are inflated.”
Stein was lost in thought. He was like an army of demons conjured from the fiery pits of hell itself. He rubbed his forehead. Could it be that Erasmus Shar was actually a demon then? If he defeated an entire army by himself then that could explain where his strength had come from.
“Was he a demon?” Stein asked although he doubted a demon would help humans out of the goodness of his heart.
“Perhaps his fierceness put fear into the British army. Obviously, they overstated what really happened to make Erasmus seem something more than human. You know, maybe to console themselves for their defeat.”
“I’m asking you if he was an actual demon from hell.”
“Demon from hell?” The look on John Clarke’s face expressed that he had heard the silliest thing in the world.
“Never mind.” Stein was not in the mood to get into the whole concept of demonology. The less John knew, the better. “What does your little story have to do with my plans to hunt the four-tusk elephants anyway?”
John regained his composure and adjusted his square-rimmed glasses. “Under Erasmus Shar’s guidance, the Kirriba recovered all their ancestral lands from the British. The people unanimously installed him as their new king. With his expertise as an engineer, Erasmus rebuilt the broken kingdom. He taught them to fight and defend themselves. He built schools to educate the people and he taught them to harness their natural resources to support themselves. Let’s just say that he completely transformed a formerly exploited nation into a wealthy self-reliant one.”
John paused. He usually did that. And it was rather painful.
“That’s a lot of achievement for one man,” said Stein. “I guess you’re right. They must be nothing but stories.”
“Maybe,” said John. “But the progress of the people of Sharmandi is proof that Erasmus Shar did transform the nation.”
“Sharmandi?”
John nodded. “Erasmus changed the name of South Rodenshire back to Kirrimandi. But the people insisted their new country needed a new name.”
“Sharmandi,” Stein whispered.
“Absolutely,” said John. “And do you know what Sharmandi means?”
"Hmm..." The doctor paused thoughtfully and then whispered. “Land of Shar.”
“Exactly, Doctor Stein. And believe me when I tell you that nobody messes with the Land of Shar.”
John further explained that in 1965, three years after Dorben gained independence, Dorben and Sharmandi signed the Kirriba Treaty. The Kirriba Treaty was an economic pact that made it possible for Dorben and Sharmandi to collaborate seamlessly like one country. Perhaps, the most important aspect of the treaty was that Kirriba Plains, which extended into both countries, would be designated as a natural reserve for the bazwu. Hunting in Kirriba Plains was strictly prohibited according to the treaty. This meant that Dorben had violated the treaty by giving Stein a permit to hunt there.
Stein could not care less if Dorben had broken any treaty. Those greedy bastards had already taken his bribe. Now it was time for him to collect what was his.
“Sharmandi will not let this happen,” John eyed him sternly.
Stein clenched his jaws, his chest pounding in fury. He needed the tusks of the four-tusk elephants urgently for his research. He was on the verge of a breakthrough — a breakthrough that would prove what he had always told the Vessels. The Vessels had stubbornly rejected his ideas but they would soon come back to their senses and then they would be restored to their former glory. Stein was not going to let the Kirriba stand in the way of his success.
“We’ll see about that.” He clasped his hands together.
John grinned. “Oh. What do you plan to do?”
“I’ll talk to the minister.”
“You don’t think Sharmandi will listen to him, do you?”
“For their sake, they better listen.” He was done playing nice. If there was a chance that Erasmus Shar was a demon and had trained those people, then sending in more mercenaries would be a waste of time. He would have to fight fire with fire. He had been hoping to put his experiments to the test anyway.
Sharmandi wouldn’t know what hit them. They would wish they had given Stein all their precious bazwu without question.