“Unfortunately, I’ve never heard of a person by the name of Thoj. I’m sure my parents would’ve known.”
Kwazhak contemplated her words as Tsuchiya and him raced along with the morning moon. Tsuchiya recovered, and now led Kwazhak to the location of his residence. Weaving through skyscrapers and alleyways, it seemed that Tsuchiya knew the city like an entire weiqi board.
“How did one know that thy family is in trouble? Intuition?”
“My wife has a knack for saharic telepathy. Think of it as more like a radio, but with the particles,” he replied briskly, coming to a stop. “We’re near, my house is just down the road.”
The two of them peeked from the katsura fence. Armed men, numbering in the single digits, stood right outside the front door of the Azu minka. At once the militant force forced the door open with a thrust, and filed inside.
“Yabai, let’s go after them, Mr. Laoyuang!” The duo ran after them into the Tsiishch'lli Estate. Kwazhak took out his handfan and opened the door, walking casually. Unfolding his fan, he observed the delicate papyrus walls and expensive furniture, while the men were quick to aim their guns at him. The wife and two daughters hid in the darkest corner of the room, the mother shielding her children from sight.
“Hanan! Are you three alright?!” Tsuchiya hugged them, bringing their faces close.
“Well, gentlemen, care to explain who and why this well-knitted family is being incarcerated,” The prince waved his fan to cool himself off from the Zurgaa heat. One of the shorter men lowered their weapon, and scratched their head.
“Uh, we were given orders from the KWKK-”
“Baka! We’re not supposed to tell him!” Another man behind him smacked him in the head.
“Sorry, I- I’m not used to this job-”
“We are conducting the detainment of Nyebvůkshå Tsiishch'lli and his family. Now if you please, exit the building,” The tallest one kept his weapon pointed at Kwazhak. The prince held his arm up to the ceiling. A few of them staggered back as they noticed the black device on his wrist.
“It appears thou hast ordered a muqatil? If one truly respects thy code, turn a blind eye and leave,” Kwazhak commanded them, letting his voice be heard. No moved in the wake of deadly silence. They conflicted between orders and faith, leaving them petrified. A man clad in bushi armor stormed into the minka. The steel samurai brandished his bold naginata, an Azu spear that bore a blade the length of a sword.
“Muqatil have no say in this matter,” the bushi hummed through his helmet, “Ute!”
Kwazhak closed his shan, “That leaves no choice.”
He brought out his shan just in time to block the flying bullets. Pushing his way through, the bushi swung his spear around and cut a lock of Kwazhak’s hair. The prince kicked a soldier out of the way. He gestured for Tsuchiya and his family. Urgently they all hopped out the side of the building.
“Laoyuang Kwazhak!” Tsuchiya said under the chaos of it all, “I owe you one, dear friend!”
“Thine priority is to exit this predicament!” Kwazhak brought his handfan to his side.
He gracefully spun in a pirouette, his fan colliding with the spear. “Swinging a naginata in a house truly takes some skill.”
“And you, muqatil, who uses a fan to shield bullets. A Laoyuang indeed!” The bushi’s glave rotated around and around, stomping his feet on the tatami floor. Kwazhak ducked under a table. The yellow projectiles poked holes into the walls. He couldn’t take them while holding a sword, given his brace and the restriction of sahar. Then an idea flashed through Kwazhak’s mind. Guizu Arcana.
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He focused his might into conjuring swords with their blunt side facing downwards. Multiple swords appeared above them. Kwazhak let them fall from the air. Hearing clanks sound out, three men collapsed onto the floor. It went quiet. No gunfire, no footsteps. Once he thought it was clear, Kwazhak stood up.
A naginata soon aimed at his neck, while a sword hovered above the Tasdahan bushi. A single drop of sweat came down Kwazhak’s face, feeling his skin intensify to the sharpness of the spear.
“Stop, stop, stop!” Another peculiar man briskly walked in. “Lai, I’ll be taking this one with me.”
It took a brief moment before Kwazhak recognized the Chief Director of the KWKK.
The KWKK headquarters was a modern work. Everything in white, symmetrical patterns that appealed to the masses. The empty lobby had streams of hologram screens, each displaying countless blocks of texts and detailed graphs. The building reeked of the factory scent that all corporations used. Kwazhak followed the Chief Director, Qiemi, with careful steps as they ascended across several stairwells, feeling the clunk of the linoleum flooring with each foot.
Eventually they entered the main office on the third floor, a clean room with papers arranged neatly in binders, shelves of records that rivalved the great archives. However Kwazhak dismissed them as mere business tapestry.
“So, Laoyuang, let me get this straight,” Qiemi searched the sea of binders, putting his finger on each one before pulling a black one into his hands. “How many of your idiotic plots have failed this time?”
“To call them idiotic, is quite the misrepresentation.”
“‘Tav twenty-first, an attempted assassination of Al-Wa CEO Thiệu Addja perpetrated by Kiyomiya Lojuno and second prince Kwazhak Laoyuang was subjugated by Thiệu himself’,” the Chief Director began to read off the file compiled by Tsuchiya, “‘Tav twenty-eighth, an attempted escape from officer Tayang al-Qarakh perpetrated by Kwazhak Laoyuang was subjugated by Nyebvůkshå Tsiishch'lli’. ‘Zurgaa first through third, a second escape attempting to destroy the Saharic Negation Net was reported by champion Ayai Toya and was therefore subjugated.”
“Does reading the archive matter?” Kwazhak turned his head, as Qiemi shut the binder aggressively.
“It does matter, ‘second prince’. You’ve failed several times in several obvious ways. So the next time you and your loons try anything, it won’t work.”
“Perhaps. We exercise the need to rid this world of the Dineh Kazaàd.”
“The tournament has been the tradition of our people since the last millenia. To rid of it means to destroy the Dineh culture.”
“To rid of it means to destroy thine own coffers,” Kwazhak stepped forward with an attitude, “No amount of gold can repay for the loss of human life. That’s why we must end it.”
“You still haven’t learned your lesson. Secular thinking has made this world rotten.”
“Then one could say the same for one’s greedy thinking.”
Qiemi slammed his hands on the table, rattling the cabinets and drawers open. Kwazhak didn’t speak a word after, as the Chief Director struggled to hide his anger. For now, the prince kept a neutral face while the Qiemi regained his composure.
“We will make a deal,” He picked up the fallen objects and returned them to the desk. “I’ll choose your next opponent for the Major, and in turn I’ll let Tsuchiya off the hook, just this once.”
“Chiyo, no matter how one thinks about it, I shall die some way or another. I refuse to accept these fragile promises.”
“Did I ask you to accept it? You have no choice,” He sent two pieces of paper flying to the ground. When Kwazhak leaned over to read the contents, it contained the archives about Suruj and Saya.
“Now which one of them would you hate to kill? One way or another you’ll get your hands dirty.”
“I’ve already taken the lives of two comrades, therefore I am already a murderer,” Kwazhak waved the two pages in Qiemi’s face. “Besides, doesn’t this violate the tournament rules?”
“For the Azazeru no Mikoto and the Accordance, exceptions can be made.”
Kwazhak clutched the two files with both hands, the sweat coming down his neck. He didn’t know how long he could keep up with his own foolish theatrics. He didn’t know Qiemi ‘Chiyo’ Khaylshad. Even so, Kwazhak picked up a ploy, staring at Qiemi’s devious glare.
“If thou art choosing, I urge thee to pair myself with Suruj.”
“Suruj Zundui? Izdaha Saya it is then,” the Chief Director swiped the papers from Kwazhak’s hands, before dumping them into the recycling bin. “You must want to team up with that Buhang, is that right? I’ll give you the easy route, the one that is the most obedient,” he continued, “Mahou Suimin.”
Kwazhak entered into a fighting stance, only to feel dizzy at the chant of a spell. He saw the white ceiling swirl above, collapsing onto the floor. He could only think of how sorry he was for everything, but everything was set. Kwazhak was nothing but fragile promises.
In the faint view, someone passed by the window.