The guards couldn’t help but feel disturbed at the serene smile blooming on Arka’s face. Where was the weakling cowering at the very sight of their weapons?
“I accept your challenge. But, I’ll not duel you,” Arka stated.
“Huh?!” exclaimed both the guards.
Arka only smiled in answer, infuriating the guards.
“Do you have a knight or bodyguard secretly hiding in your luggage?” The first guard gave a dubious look towards the three heavy bags Arka was carrying. “Someone, ready to fight in your stead?”
“I find it hard to believe anyone would be willing to sacrifice themselves for a cowardly Buvanesian,” stated the second guard, the cynical one who had predicted his ‘death’. Still, the second guard warily held up his weapon, as if expecting someone to lunge up and attack him.
“None whatsoever. I fight my own battles,” Arka answered, still maintaining his smile.
In reality, Arka’s serene smile was only a mask to hide the anxiety he was feeling at the sight of weapons. Not even reciting the Doctrine of Peace could calm his racing heartbeat.
Arka observed the two guards in their 30s, whose Maya glowed intensely with aggression. They were well-built and seemed to be adept at using Maya. The numerous scars adorning their skin were a testament to their battle prowess.
Quick to anger, revelling in the thrill of battle, waiting impatiently for any opportunity to unleash their strength-these were some prominent qualities Arka had observed in both the guards. Even if Arka agreed to fight the guards head-on, there was no way he could win against the intense barrage of their attacks.
“My oaths dictate that I can’t engage in any violent confrontation-” Arka started. The guards opened their mouths ready to mock Arka again, uncaring Arka continued, “-but I can engage in a challenge that doesn’t require me to take up weapons.”
“Wrestling?” asked the first guard, while the second guard chirped “Boxing? I’d love to punch that smile off your face.”
“Racing,” answered Arka and elaborated, “Whoever crosses the distance of 100 Danusas and reaches the Bumi city gate first wins.”
“That’s child’s play!” laughed the first guard.
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“Be ready to face the humiliation of defeat,” warned the second guard.
“Sure,” he smiled, “-although you have to carry one of my bags on your head, balancing it without the use of your hands.”
The impatient guards roughly grabbed each bag from his hands, ready to show Arka his rightful place beneath them.
“Every time you drop my bag or use your hands to balance it, you have to restart the race from the starting point,” said Arka.
“Fine,” groused the first guard.
“Can we start already?” grumbled the annoyed second guard. “Or do we have to listen to your list of terms and conditions all day?”
“Be my guest,” Arka smiled, “as long as you follow the rules.”
“We aren’t cowardly Buvanesians to rely on dishonourable ways,” the second guard sniped back.
3.. 2.. 1 and the race started.
The two guards rushed on the mark as soon as the count ended. But soon both of their bags fell due to the speed of their movement. Their intense aggressive Maya only managed to destabilise their balance. The more times the bags fell, the more they got frustrated and made mistakes.
True to their word, they didn’t engage in any foul play. Each time they failed, they restarted the race.
Meanwhile, Arka walked slowly, perfectly balancing the bag on his head. Before his days as a diplomat, Arka had been a mere personal assistant to an official back in Buvanes. His days involved rushing from one place to another and delivering numerous missives without damaging them. To save time he would often balance 40-50 missives on both his hands and on his head.
This kind of balance exercise demanded patience and steadiness, which both the aggressive guards severely lacked.
Thus, despite walking at a snail’s pace, Arka was the first one to reach Bumi City.
He waved at both the guards to indicate his victory.
“I won,” Arka announced with a serene smile.
Both the dissatisfied guards threw the heavy bags towards him. Arka dusted off the bags, silently applauding himself for buying Maya-infused bags with damage-proofing.
“You cheated,” stated the first guard and his Maya sparkled dangerously around him.
“There is no way a weakling could win against first-grade soldiers of Rakt Battalion!” exclaimed the second guard. “We should punish you with death for your dishonourable ways.”
Soon enough, Arka found himself flailing in the air as he was held by the collar.
Arka sighed, defeated. Why did he ever think they would gracefully accept their defeat? They were barbarians after all.
“Now, now, don’t be dishonourable in defeat,” a voice interrupted Arka from his dejected musings, “Please release Diplomat Jivitasa.”
Arka was startled at the sudden appearance of the officer from the Immigration Office. He had been keeping an eye on the surroundings to ask for help. How did the officer get here without him or the guards noticing?
More importantly, why was the officer helping Arka?