“Don’t worry about my brother,” Kuraban said. “He will call you back, ask more questions, and change his mind again. It’s always the same.”

Standing by the window and with eyes fixed on the patio below, Macha sighed. “I don’t worry about the Oksar.”

Kuraban crossed arms over his chest, mimicking Macha’s posture with his enormous body. As he checked the outside, he also sighed.

Outside, the man called Issanu was leaning against a column of the cloister, right behind some flowered bushes. Fully aware of being watched, his demeanour dripped with affected boredom, even exuding a certain arrogance. He idly plucked a blossom from the bush, smelled it, and raised it towards the office windows as a weird salute.

A soldier announced his presence as loud as were his steps as he entered. “My lord,” he said, lowering his tone and easing his moves. “Papiku has clearance. He still holds a golden seal. And it’s a new one.”

Kuraban raised a hand to his chin, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. “He has access to everything, then. Only my brother or the administrator of affairs give out golden seals. So it must have been who took Kumar’s place.”

“Vega,” Macha’s voice couldn’t hide his worry. “Does that mean he knows about our plans? Why try to kill me and Sandree?”

“Maybe he knows,” Kuraban said. “But I assure you, if a Krait has orders to kill you, you’d be dead. He said he wanted to talk. Maybe it’s just that.”

Macha turned and stomped to the door, giving a brief glimpse of his revolver resting on the desk.

“Hey, hey!” Kuraban yelled. “Just because he wants to talk doesn’t mean he won’t drag you out of the royal compound and slit your throat afterwards.”

“I’ll be fine. If I disappear and don’t come back, you know what to do. Let’s find out what we’re up against.” Macha gave another look at his weapon, much longer this time. It was a Bandanii made artistry, similar in design to the one Em’s used to carry, but newer. An accurate, well crafted six round revolver which had only been out of its holster twice. Both for practice.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kuraban said. “The only ones allowed to carry weapons are the guards. Iksil, take a couple of your men and accompany the Count. Papiku knows well the grounds of the Rajah are sacred, but I need eyes on him to avoid tragic accidents.”

Iksil stood firm and hit the talons of his boots before shooting out the door. Macha, spurred on by his protector’s energy, followed.

The midday sunlight fractured through the tall trees of the cloister garden, painting with light and shadow the colorful mosaics below. The air, heavy with the scent of jasmine and frangipani, hung heavily, increasing with heat to discomforting levels. Graceful columns, carved with the entwined forms of mythical creatures and flowering vines, lined the covered walkway. A calm, enjoyable place to rest from the tribulations of the country. An idyllic corner broken by the malevolent presence of a Krait.

Papiku got up from the column to give a bow dripping with mocking deference. Macha, escorted by two towering soldiers and Iksil, stood at a short, yet safe distance. “You want to talk? Let’s talk,” the count said with confidence.

“Beautiful new arm, little mouse.” Papiku checked the bodyguards with calm and confidence. “Is my new boss who wants a word. He has important matters to discuss with you. And with you alone.”

“They come with me, whether or not you like it.” Macha stepped closer, and the two soldiers followed suit. “If this charade is all about talking, then you won’t mind, do you?”

Papiku shrugged, raising an inviting hand toward the door of the Royal building. When he realized Macha would not move first, he took the lead, but stopped shortly after he noticed no one followed. “What else?” he grunted.

“Be a good Krait and give me some safety reassurance.” Macha said.

The krait snapped his teeth. “These are sacred grounds, brat. I’m not that stupid. Neither is my new boss.” Macha remained motionless, like one of the fountain statues behind him. “All right,” Papiku continued. “I give you my word. I swear neither I, nor Vega, nor any of his minions will do any harm to you in these pretty, blessed buildings.”

With the oath released, Macha and his party followed Papiku to the main building. The housing of the most important state dignitaries was less crowded, although more closely guarded. The presence of guards at every corner, however, gave Macha no ease of mind.

“Vega, huh?” Macha said. “How does a good lad like this one end up working for such a man? Utterly shocking. Right Iksil?”

The soldier raised a lip. “He must pay an awful lot to have someone of such talent for a mere messenger.”

Papiku stopped midway up the staircase to give a pronounced brow. “He pays really well indeed. Good enough to be a lap dog for him. Would you rather prefer me to be a wolf?” Iksil and the other two reached for the pommels of their daggers. The Krait chuckled. “I see. How about you all shut those humorous comments and just follow me in silence?”

The stairs led to a wide hallway with windows overlooking the royal gardens. They approached a double door, well-adorned and sturdy, where Papiku knocked. “The guards remain outside. With my oath on you, you are as safe as he is.”

A voice from inside called them in, and Macha entered, followed only by the Krait. The office, which most resembled a library with its many shelves filled with books, was spacious and well-lit. In the middle stood a large table with just one seat at the front and another on the opposite side, where a man in a pristine uniform sat. He was deep in his pen and the papers piling in front. “Please have a seat, Count Izan.” he finally said, eyes not rising from his read.

Macha sat down and glanced first at him. Vega had pronounced features, tanned skin and calloused hands and, still, he gave off an aura of a man who has lived inside a royal palace for all his life. He was neither scrawny nor muscular. His streaked gray hair hinted at experience, while the black patch over one eye transformed a face from the crowd into one of ruthlessness.

Facing the man who killed Em turned out more challenging than Macha expected. His fist tensed under the table as his teeth grinned inside the mouth. His gaze scouted the room. The shelves first, then the exterior wall and its half-open windows. Then the table. In one pot, alongside writing pens, rested a letter opener. A small, weak-looking man standing at Vega’s side cleared his throat. Vega ignored him. The clerk, who seemed to notice Macha’s rage growing, would be no obstacle. One brief rush, a little jump. A stab to the neck. Only one problem between his revenge and death.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Papiku sat on the table edge, right next to him. He clicked his tongue and crossed arms like two snakes embracing each other. “What a disappointment. I thought you were smarter.”

Still tense, Macha leaned on the back of the chair to appear he backed up on his desires. Vega continued his writing while Macha prepared to speak, but a raised finger silenced him. Vega scribbled a bit more, pleased with the time he was taking from everyone else.

“Well, well,” he finally said, setting aside the paper and picking up another stack to read. “It seems someone found some letters from those fools in the Guild of Gents. Letters that not only revealed their intentions to overthrow Kumar but also implicated them in treacherous activities against the Kingdom. These same despicable traitors secured me protection contracts, opening the doors to other endeavours in this corner of the world. What will the Rajah’s uncle think about that? Naturally, he’ll believe I had something to do with it, am I wrong?”

“Don’t you?” Macha asked, challenging with little fear.

“Then, the same snitch appears and starts buzzing around, claiming he can handle the protection of the southern plantations. Ready to steal Tampra’s golden islands from me. Threatening to bury my aspirations in the south. What do you think a man in my position should do?”

“Your rambling is annoying and tedious,” Macha snapped. “Get to the point already; I’m busy.”

Vega raised his eyes for the first time, fixing him with a threatening glare, a vein bulging on his forehead. He lifted his hand, signaling to his clerk, who quickly rushed to the other side of the table. The man efficiently arranged a stack of papers before Macha, placing ink and pen at his side.

“Very well then,” Vega hissed, moving back to his feigned reading. “I’ll be as brief as someone like you deserve. You will sign the contract Mr. Bosk presents. It confirms our deal: one hundred thousand crowns for an equally shared partnership in your contracting business. The other documents are letters you sent me long ago, letters that show our supposed friendship and trust. And the last is your will, in which you leave your business shares to me should anything happen to you.”

Macha tried to rise from his chair, but Papiku forced him down with a firm hand over the shoulder. “Guards! Guards!” the Count called out, but as no one answered, Papiku revealed his rotten teeth.

“You will sign,” Vega continued, his eyebrows raising towards the window, “Or you’ll learn how to fly pretty soon.”

“Threaten me all you want,” Macha said, holding a mixture of despicable feelings chewing his insides. He forced a chuckle and glanced at Papiku for a moment. “You think I’m not so smart? Well, your boss isn’t either. To kill me in your own office? What a foolish treat. The last I checked, the city troops outnumber you five to one. Go, break the sacred rules and show Atharv what kind of cockroach you are. It’s exactly what I’m here for. Not to sign any paper.”

Vega squeezed his pen and blew slowly. Then, wiggled a commanding finger towards his clerk. From the pile he was holding, Mr. Bosk moved a file to the top, and from it he quickly took out a document.

“I said.” Macha clenched his teeth furiously."I will sign nothing!"

“We understand,” Mr. Bosk said. He raised the paper towards Macha’s face and cleared his throat. “Is this the copy of the contractor’s contract of Illans and Sahan?”

Macha checked his signature at the bottom, next to the Oksar’s. “So what if it is? There are more. Destroying a docu-”

The Count’s words faded into a whisper as he realized he was drifting in the wrong conclusion. The documents, amongst others, were all either in the Oksar’s office or in his brother’s. They could have taken one, of course Vega was capable of such deed. But why take such a risk for just showing it to him? Why take a document that was of no use to them? Reason struck like a bolt of lightning. That was not one document Macha had signed as Count Izan: Vega was playing the same games as Robert.

After a loud huff and a hint of amusement to Macha’s reaction, Vega spoke. “Get this idiot out of the premises.”

Papiku pulled Macha’s shirt up and, with little care, dragged him out of the office. Outside, Macha’s blood froze. Iksar and his two guards were missing. No trace of fight. The three men, all safety taken for granted, banished. “I told you Vega pays really well.” Papiku said.

A terrible push put him towards a lateral door, leading down a secondary, hidden staircase. Macha fought back, but against the Krait's skill, he felt like a child fighting a tiger. Papiku held a grab on his neck and squeezed. “Stop playing, you idiot. I’m just taking you out.”

“You swore not to harm me!” Macha mumbled.

“Does this even hurt? Come on, scared mouse. You know pain, don’t be disappoing. I’m just taking you to the gates of the Great Uka. Vega would have preferred you to sign the papers officially, but it doesn’t matter. Come on, don’t be a coward. Put your tail between your legs, go to the Siga peers and find a ship back to the Red island. Do it like a man and I won’t do anything to that pretty ebony-skinned girl.”

Macha ended his struggle. His muscles froze, his steps faltered. Compliant but hesitating, he let the Krait guide him, prompting Papiku’s hand to push him down the stairs every few steps. “Faked signatures won’t work.” Macha said. “ The Scribes of Akendu are the best. No human hand can cheat them.”

Papiku grinned. “Little secret I want to share: Vega doesn’t care anymore.”

Reaching the ground floor, Papiku made Macha enter a side corridor leading to the western entrance, a large hall mostly filled with city guards. The entrance led to an outside garden, next to which was a door to the Rooms of Complaints: a public space filled with people and contiguous to the secondary building. To Kuraban’s office. Macha halted, and so did Papiku, who leaned to reach Macha’s ear. “I promised you I wouldn’t do anything to you, right? Do nothing stupid. Go to the docks without making a big deal in front of all these people or I swear I’ll drag you out that gate and break your neck as soon as you are outside.”

Macha’s legs moved forward, tense and slow. He took a few, then turned. His body pretended not to answer, just as Papiku had to believe. But the krait couldn’t read his mind, and Macha made it work at the speed such a moment required.

“Vega wanted to make me sign a will,” Macha said. “That means he has a fake one already. Same as the letter of friendship. Why? Because he doesn’t really want me to share. He wants me dead and take it all. You have promised to keep me alive in the Royal grounds, but you insist I go to the Port, and not any of the seven points, but you said specifically the Siga. Why do you care what I do now? Why did you mention that one? Because as soon as I go out, I can be killed. And what a better place to murder someone than the dangerous Siga peers.”

“You’re a clever rat, I’ll give you that.” Papiku said. “I actually said Siga for no reason. It doesn’t matter which one you go to. Come on, don’t make it more difficult. I’m giving you ten minutes ahead.”

Macha took two hesitant steps backward. He mustered all his skills to show in his face the terror he should have felt. To the performance, Papiku rejoiced; his wicked games thrilled him. He wasn’t giving Macha a chance. Just pushing him as far as he could to make a deadly accident more believable. “Why should I trust you?” Macha mumbled. “You’ll kill me as soon as I step outside.”

“Don’t make a fuss. It’s embarrassing. Come on. Go. I’m a Krait; we never lie.”

“Kra-Kraits don’t lie.” Macha made his eyes water, his words trembling. He took one more well-controlled, though hesitant, step backward, full of fear and doubt. “Kra-Kraits don’t lie. And Kraits never break a promise, do they? Pro-promise me you won’t give me a chase! Promise you won’t take a step from there in ten minutes!”

Papiku shushed and turned his head around. “Boy, lower your voice, damn it!. Yes, I said. You helped Kumar in that prison. I owe you that, at least. I swear to what you said.”

“Good boy. Ten minutes!” Macha grinned, the confidence he had made disappear returning in all its splendor. But instead of heading outside, he turned right. As his hastened strides put him back to the path of Kuraban’s office, he heard the Krait let out a curse, then a loud laugh.