Published at 9th of September 2025 12:39 pm

Book 5: Chapter 29 A Heart to Heart [Part 1]

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In the hush of the mindful spirit, one discerns the seed of wrongdoing: it is that which sows discord within and among us, warping our compassion into malice. The vigilant soul does not banish darkness by force, but by the gentle illumination of self-reflection. Let each step in enlightenment be also a step in kindness, lest we become that which we resist.

The proud heart that shuns reflection draws breath from its own illusions, birthing corruption in every act. Therefore, let us be guardians of thought, watchers of action: for if the smallest cruelty is left unchallenged, it sows a harvest of sorrow.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

I matched pace beside Larynda, making a somewhat grim procession—a battered warrior in battle-scarred black-and-gold armor, a young mage in soaked robes riding a giant donkey, and an unconscious elf draped over a pack animal. Occasionally, Patches gave out a bray of protest, requiring a tug on the reins to keep her moving.

We had trudged a few hundred paces when the young girl’s shoulders drew taut. Lifting my gaze from the muddy ground, I saw a band of Al-Lazarian soldiers riding atop their reptilian steeds out to greet us. They fanned into a loose semicircle, led by Captain Tikirit, who anxiously twirled his oiled black mustache. He halted some yards away. I caught the strain on his face; it spoke to me of worry, shame, and reluctance.

“We saw the eagle riders withdraw,” he said stiffly, his voice tight. “We’ve come to escort you safely inside, First Tamkar.”

First Tamkar of Sultana Aelayah, a hollow title. The words sounded bitterly empty coming from his mouth—like the Sultana’s own power, so very hollow. Anger coiled in my chest anew, but I forced it down. There was a war on, but unfortunately, unreliable allies were better than no allies at all. The time for revenge would come, and soon.

A feeling of déjà vu came over me. I had seen this scene before. Or a variant of it. Had these thoughts… or at least something like them.

“Well, Captain,” I rasped, my voice raw from my latest realization. “I appreciate the gesture. How very brave of you.” The sarcasm hung in the air like a drawn blade.

Tikirit’s men exchanged uneasy glances. A few looked shame-faced; others dropped their eyes, refusing to meet my glare. Larynda let out a contemptuous sniff but held her tongue.

“Our intelligence on the elves’ capabilities was… is incomplete,” the Captain offered, clearing his throat. “Direct intervention seemed ill-advised.”

“And you think doing nothing was the better choice?” Larynda snapped, surprising me with the heat in her voice. She waved a hand at us. “We nearly died out there!”

She had said what I was thinking, so I kept my stony silence. The Captain’s mouth clamped shut, and with a curt wave, he directed us to follow.

Tikirit’s mouth tightened, but he did not answer. Instead, he waved for us to follow as he turned his horse around. The soldiers fanned out around us, forming a protective escort. I found it almost laughable, given how belated this help was, but I clenched my jaw and kept moving. I had bigger priorities than humiliating Tikirit here and now.

Al-Lazar’s towering walls loomed nearer, ramparts made slick by the artificial rain that trickled over the battlements. By the time we reached the main gate, even with my high Constitution, my limbs felt leaden. My entire body needed rest.

As we passed under the portcullis, I saw a number of the soldiery gather around us. Some stared with a mixture of awe and dread at the battered elf woman on Patches’s back. Others looked at me with wide eyes, the foreign black menace. I offered them no reassurance.

Larynda slid off the donkey, nearly stumbling, her knees buckling from general exhaustion. I steadied her with one hand, though I nearly lost my balance as well.

A pair of City Guards approached gingerly. “Shall we take the prisoner, samasa?” one asked, eyeing the unconscious foreign woman warily.

For a moment, I contemplated accepting. But, this hostage was battle-prize mine, not Al-Lazar’s. “I will take her to whatever holding cells you have, and you will guide me there. These are orders from the highest authority, namely myself. Do not gainsay me if you wish to live.” My voice was low and menacing, carrying the weight of threat.

Yes, I had said something like this before. I shook my head, trying to shake off these errant thoughts.

Tikirit raised a hand, looking as if he wanted to say something, but shook his head.

I had had enough. “You wish to say something, Tikirit?” I challenged, eschewing the use of his rank. “You would do well to remember that you, and your men, owe your lives to me.”

His men looked guiltily again at each other, looking small even atop their fierce mounts.

“I will not fight you on this, Gilgamesh,” he said with another shake of his head. “Show the First Tamkar where the cells are, so we can secure the prisoner. We must salvage something from this day,” he commanded wearily.

The guards nodded hastily, gesturing for me to follow, but I ignored them. That was it, I had truly reached my limit.

I did not throw Zariyah; I merely touched the flat pommel of the magical dagger. The vessel weapon flew from my hand, straight and true. It stopped and hovered a hair’s breadth away from the Captain’s eye.

He stood frozen as I made my words known to these rats who walked like men. “I am First Tamkar of Al-Lazar, and you Tikirit are nothing more than a mere Captain. And, if I say you are to die, none will deny me,” I uttered coldly, my voice flat and as cold as winter.

Inspiring me, a sharp notification glimmered in my mind’s eye;

You have gained 10 experience points.

Other rats, it seemed, were busy.

“If I order you and your men to walk upon fire, you will do so gladly with joy in your hearts, for to do otherwise would be to invite calamity. Am I clear?” I threatened.

Tikirit’s jaw worked furiously, whether from rage or terror I could not say, nor did I care. “Clear, First Tamkar,” he ground out, voice tight. It really was a shame. I expected him to lash out at me.

“Then you and your men are dismissed. Report to the Minister of War that I am safe, the abilities and disposition of the enemy, and that I have a valuable captive. Well, what are you waiting for?” I barked, making them move to carry out my orders as I called my dagger back to me.

I heard muttered accusations of sorcery and dark arts as they departed—fools, ignorant of what true power is.

The elf on Patches groaned, half-conscious. She spat a few slurred words in her melodic native tongue before collapsing again.

“And you two,” I said to the City Guards, pointing at them in turn. “One of you will lead us to a secure place for the prisoner. The other will fetch a healer—and a skilled questioner.”

For this, too, I had demanded.

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