Chapter 12: Envy and hate

Roar!

The expedition force had intercepted four izzia grunts of the oni category. They managed to kill one of them before the other three raised their ugly heads and howled loudly. They made a sound like elephants, and they resembled grotesque humanoids with heavy, hammer-like fists and tusks the size of spears protruding downwards from their thick red skulls.

"Steady yourselves, don't let them split up. The oni grunts in particular can't fight well in tight formations," advised Jayaza.

"Neither can we, unless we want to turn chaotic," said Fagan.

"Just follow the usual four-man formations!"

The rain, cold enough to crack teeth, poured from above in interweaved curtains of water washing over the rocky ground. Dark clouds roamed the sky, turning everything obscure and clogging vision.

"Here they come! Remember the formations and don't let them split up!" yelled Shan.

Watching the izzia oni grunts regrouping for battle, the nanza-cats could only raise their spirits and rush to intercept them, aggressively engaging in battle.

An oni grunt jumped abruptly to the side and it swung its heavy fist, aiming for a female nanza near the right side of the nanza battle formation. Her heart skipped a beat, her pupils shrunk into thin slits, she could only hear the eerie whistling as the massive hammer-like fist swept through the air at her.

"Dead…" was all she could mutter.

She had no time and reaction speed to dodge, and taking the hit would crack open her skull like a nut.

But at this crucial moment, a hasty shadow overcame her position and the female nanza-cat felt the world spinning and tumbling all around her. When she finally recovered, all she saw was Ssyba taking the hit and was shaking violently, while Sibaud vaulted from behind to sever the oni's arm with his scimitar.

The female nanza's expression dimmed, how could Ssyba block such a vicious attack without turning into meat pulp? Only by sweeping her gaze over the battlefield and seeing Ran did her heart fill with amazement, gratitude and aye, even slight jealousy. In the animal kingdom, some simply surpassed others, disparity was as natural as leaves falling.

The female nanza-cat, named Tidja, simply stood there on the ground, squinting with envy and doubt, thinking about Ssyba:

"No matter what the reasons are, her strength is too much. Not even our males can face up to these oni grunts. This Ssyba, there is a great secret about her. Maybe a different breed, beyond nanza and elven-cats?"

But where the rest noticed Ssyba to be a naturally powerful beast, alongside specimens like Ran and Zioz, Sibaud was the exact opposite. He battled and killed ruthlessly and unashamedly with his metal weapon, but his unmasked aggression has gained him the appreciation of the expedition force leaders. His reputation was improving and with the expedition still a ways before the end, there were many more opportunities for growth. Fagan Stabs had already established terms of contact with Sibaud, Sielo, Bulion and a few others.

With a fleshy thud, the last oni grunt fell on the ground. It opened its massive mouth wide, its eyes lost focus and it finally died. On its body there were cuts and injuries all over, making Yamsoor shake his head in disbelief.

"Why couldn't we formulate a plan to limit losses? The skin of oni grunts is good for durability potions and we know the hives don't like to throw too many grunts at us."

"Derdal did not want to use the lightning fang gaze yet, it can not be helped," sighed Jayaza, throwing a cold glance towards Derdal.

Yamsoor called it a day and kept whatever he could save, but felt heartache due to this. If he could have kept these three corpses intact, together with the four-swords lean stalker, the materials that he planned to sell would have awarded him a net gain of about ten red tokens, after paying Jayaza his due. He planned to purchase a set of potions when he returned home after this expedition. This naturally required a great amount of tokens, but also he wanted to keep Jayaza and his masters close. Getting cheap on due payments would be a loss, he needed to gain the trust of those higher ups so he could reap more benefits in the future.

The rain continued to pour, the ground was muddy with wet dust and diluted blood. Some nanza were standing beside the butchered oni grunt corpses, taking deep breaths as the fur on their bodies was drenched by the rain.

"Finally."

"These ones were aggressive, it was too difficult."

"Good thing for Sibaud's scimitar."

"I'm flattered, but if not for your defensive maneuvering, I wouldn't have been able to attack so relentlessly," said Sibaud politely, wiping blood and rain water off his face.

The others looked with masked disapproval towards him and his much too human temper, but it seemed that he was very effective in combating the izzii.

"Compared to you, I'm feeling old already," joked another elderly nanza.

The others laughed together. Only after Sibaud left did their expressions change rapidly, turning bitter and solem. It was truly hard to accept a nanza-cat using tools for making battle, it was even worse than males nanza-cats used by human females as bed attendants. But fighting together with him, they could feel his heartlessness and wicked battle style and when thinking about it, they felt threatened. Everyone was quick to applaud Sibaud but nobody dared to voice their opinion to his face.

Did they not hate the fact that he used a weapon?

Let's see, the nanza-cats are a solitary beast with no support system in place for protection and nothing to ensure their survival and nurture in the world of humans. Because of this, each and every single nanza-cat had to rely on their own strength as well as on the thickness of their blood relations. But one aspect worth mentioning is that the big cats (of the nanza variety in our case) are apex predators and have been on the top of the food chain for as long as they have existed. On the surface, the nanza-cats are possessed by an exaggerated self-importance and sense of pride, but what goes deeper than that is the treatment that they suffer under human's rule. What does it mean for a predator to be prey? It means shame, deprivation and mental pressure. But it's invisible, subtle, most can not even feel it until it builds up. It starts from the restrictions of basic necessities: food, shelter. Those nanza-cats who are considered wealthy are only used as tools and they give their claws, furs and bodies willingly.

Deprivation of time also plays a role and it affects those elites like Fagan Stabs, who command influence. They don't need to work on the outskirts of the polite world, but directly within it. Doing this and that, running errands, completing tasks or finding those who can complete missions, this was all for attention and favor.

If one can not see it and deal with it, the sentiment of being suppressed grows into resentment.

Everyone knew that the nanza are self-reliant and martial traditionalists to a fault, and this Sibaud was proving to be an exception. He was flashy and a contrarian, talked like a human, liked to end the fights too quickly, he was the worst nanza out of all. When he fought, not only did he not use the fangs and claws, feet and even tail, but he also preferred to parry attacks instead of dodging, proving himself to be quite skillful in armed combat.

"Haha…" a shrill voice laughed from the side, interrupting Ssyba's train of thoughts.

It was Tidja.

"What do you want?"

"You took a fancy to Sibaud?" she asked, while pointing with her thumb at Sibaud, who cleaned his scimitar of blood some distance away.

"No," said Ssyba.

"Don't pretend, we're both females, I can recognize just by looking at your gaze."

Ssyba rolled her eyes upwards. Out of habit, she had actually scanned Sibaud's mystical gate for signs of mana or vraja potion reactions, but her inspection revealed nothing to her.

"Say, say, big sister Ssyba. Isn't he quite pleasing to look at? But he's strange, at least to me. I like panthers but that sword of his, it frightens me."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of big, long swords now," said Ssyba while slapping Tidja's hip.

"Why you!"

Ssyba shrugged.

"Yes, I must admit, Sibaud is alluring in an uncanny sort of way, like a strange fruit. But I'm not yet interested in settling down."

"Do you think," started Tidja, but hesitated for a split of a moment. "Do you think he'll try to undermine others in order to gain the favor of the expedition leaders?"

"What do you mean?"

"Say you've noticed how Sibaud is never the first to enter the battle," frowned Tidja.

"That's the sign of a smart cat," said Ssyba, but regretted her words even before she could speak them out loud.

Tidja's frown deepened.

"What's more, he seems to be waiting for somebody to get in trouble before striking, never actually taking initiative. Is that how a true warrior conducts himself, now you tell me."

"Is that what it looks like to you?" inquired Ssyba.

"Is it not?"

"Speak plainly Tidja," sighed Ssyba profoundly, already feeling tired.

"Hehe, this Sibaud is too vexing. If he isn't taught a lesson, he'll just climb over everyone's heads with his cursed sword. We made a plan."

"Oh, we?"

"Yes, Zioz got Spill and a few others who've found him too unsympathetic, look at his attitude. He is clearly looking down on us even though he's using a metal weapon."

"Right," said Ssyba at length, quickly coming to a realization:

Ever since Zioz had been humiliated by Sibaud in the battle against the izzia four-swords lean stalker, his heart was filled with indignation. He had wanted to find trouble with Sibaud, but was instead oppressed by the threat of the scimitar, knowing full well the dangers when facing metal weapons. In this, he could not rely on himself to take revenge, deepening his hatred. Zioz could thus only count on the pettiness of others, making use of his already established connections and fanning the other nanza-cats' emotions of offence against Sibaud. For Tidja in particular, Zioz must have used his dominant male glamor to persuade her into his plot.

"What are you guys thinking?" plainly asked Ssyba.

"We want you to lure him away the next time we make for rest. Give him a good time, do you understand? Hahaha…"

Tidja's habit of snickering and laughing in between words and sentences was getting tiresome. Her voice dripped full of disdain and malice.

"In the meantime you do this, we'll steal his scimitar. Then as his senior, Zioz will put him in order, hehehe."

Ssyba's mind brightened with comprehension.

"Spill and the others are a bunch of savage beasts. Nothing good can come of it," she murmured.

Tidja looked at Ssyba and grinned full of teeth and fangs, saying:

"If Sibaud is a human pet and doesn't know the rules, we'll just have to properly teach him."

***

The expedition force eventually resumed its journey, piercing ever deeper into the south but making sure to simply skirt the nearby mountains that emerged menacingly like a monstrous jaw. They instead picked to run eastward on the country's border.

"Attention!" called Jayaza.

Yamsoor stepped forward and instructed the expedition upon the situation:

"We have entered Efayan territory, the remaining journey is all wasteland, mountains and valleys inhabited by izzia swarms and very few human settlements. Beasts run free here and there's no chance to meet or expect reinforcements from Yasha'Lafiq now, so whatever else we decide to do, we're on our own. From now onward, everyone has to place full attention on the surroundings and not stray beyond thirty paces away from the rest of us."

Everyone nodded in agreement. This was the most dangerous segment of the expedition's route. Once they passed this relatively straightforward portion along the northern Efayan foothills, they would finally reach the tomb of Ba Busal.

"Alright, next we will establish the new rules and defensive measures," Jayaza continued.

An hour later the discussion ended and the expedition returned to travel.

Dark clouds filled the southern sky bringing forth a solemn atmosphere and signs of heavy winds. The planetary collision storm emerged voluminous and magnificent above the rocky horizon, mountain spires lost in all that breathtaking desolation.

The expedition force walked diligently in file, each member tied carefully at the waist with a rope as to not lose one another in the dusty winds. It was a treacherous undertaking and several times Fagan expressed his opinion, but the leaders ignored his calls for a break.

The only times they untied themselves was to intercept incoming stray izzia scouts or grunts, as they traveled ever east. Derdal and Yamsoor made sure to use every bit of resources they had, and not even once was the expedition taken by surprise. And after every assault, Yamsoor gathered the useful materials with a solemn demeanor.

But the set of precautions they've taken allowed them to limit their losses and fatigue, Derdal's scouting methods gave valuable insight to Yamsoor, who in turn relayed the information to Jayaza, who in turn ordered Fagan to fittingly organize his troops.

Every once in a while they were attacked by packs of two to six izzii monsters of the oni grunt category, but also a couple four-swords lean stalkers, rock-jaws and even one behemoth, for which Derdal and Jayaza had to intervene and use valuable potions and mana resources. One nanza-cat named Kure died and a couple others were injured and required immediate healing. In the end, they did not kill the behemoth but simply chased it away, much to Yamsoor's heartbreak. Some close friends of Kure chased the behemoth for revenge, but couldn't catch up to it and they didn't dare to venture deep into the mountains. The anguished nanza-cats could only stare fixedly at the retreating wounded monster.

"Such a fruitless encounter, damn it all!" shouted Yamsoor over Kure's corpse. This attracted the gaze of all the nanza-cats in his immediate vicinity and together, they stood there overlooking their fallen comrade.

Who knew what possessed the izzii to attack so frequently and to move ever northward? Perhaps the swarm overmind saw an opportunity and decided to pierce through, or maybe they all fled the incoming storm, hoping that the north could protect them.

The behemoth's attack made Jayaza and Derdal realize the danger they were in. The longer the delay, the greater the chances of being completely engulfed in a sea of izzia swarms. That very morning of the sixth day, they decided to speed up and leave northern Efayan foothills as quickly as possible, even risk matching during the day.

"After this trip ends, I'll retire and enjoy my life!" complained some nanza.

"I have been traveling all across Alyriam for many years and this was the most challenging incursion into Efayan," informed Yamsoor.

He meant to hearten the others up, as if to damn their unfortunate luck, but his words only muddied the atmosphere. Some sighed, some were downhearted, some were hollowed by the most recent death. The size of the expedition force was decreasing slowly, the nanza-cats no longer cared about having a good time and hunting for small game. They started to sense that their very lives were on the line. Some izzia assassins tailed the party for almost half a day, adding to the mental pressure, some grunts attacked outright and some only harassed the expedition, attacking and retreating at will.

The leaders did not stint on mana expenditure this time. Derdal used his lightning fang gaze liberally, scything through rows and rows of izzii as if through grass. Jayaza used his metal discipline potions to clash side by side with the strongest in the front line, while Yamsoor offered support through various spellbinds, whether enhancing the claws of the battling nanza-cat with various effects, or magnifying their endurance, durability and fighting prowess.

The setting sun dyed the spear-like mountain tops in blood red.

The scale of the expedition force was now already thinned. In total, four nanza cats had died since the beginning, but after going through this cruel elimination and sharpening, the expedition force now showed signs of an elite group.

***

"One more step and I'm dead!"

"No matter what, the payments need to be re-evaluated once we get back…"

"If we ever get back, hahaha."

Gradually, the morale of the entire expedition force sunk to an all-time low, many have lost their will to move on after walking for a full night, a full day and half of another night without stop, all while being attacked continuously by izzia packs. The nanza-cats began raining down curses, and some dared to talk back, disgruntled at the expedition leaders.

Yamsoor even willingly abandoned some of the less valuable materials to speed up their travel and show a hint of righteousness.

Fagan couldn't help but keep gritting his teeth in frustration, as his pace continued to become slower. He had doubts in his heart and these emotions turned into a fog that couldn't be dispelled unless they rested and talked.

"Lord Jayaza, I'm requesting we stop."

But Jayaza continued to walk.

"Lord Jayaza, it wasn't a question of approval, but a request."

"The way ahead is cleared, there is no way we will face any izzia or predators," explained Jayaza after a moment of silence, though without turning to acknowledge Fagan.

"I've heard this for the past three encounters. The nanza are tired and they aren't aided by sorcery like you are!"

Jayaza looked surprised back at Fagan.

"Did you expect this expedition to be a stroll to the fishing market?"

Suddenly, a cold light flashed across Fagan's eyes and his pupils shrunk to thin lines. He stopped on the spot, his mind filled with darkness.

"How do you know there won't be any izzia?"

"Derdal has detected some company just ahead. Humans, a badawin caravan most likely but we can't be sure."

"This…", muttered Fagan lowering his head, covering the killing intent flashing past his cold blue eyes.

Jayaza was already marching ahead, gently tugging at the waist binding for Fagan to swallow his pride and follow.

Eventually it turned out it wasn't a badawin caravan at all, but an efayan assemblage of refugees, running north to escape the storm. They were all hunched and lean under the strains of their provisions, and would have resembled skeletons marching if not for their jovial demeanor upon meeting the expedition force. An elderly man at the head of a narrow carriage filled with goods was the leader of this refugee band. He was short and stocky and would remind one of a kindly grandpa.

Jayaza walked ahead together with Yamsoor, and the leaders of both these parties greeted each other.

"May I ask the distinguished warriors what lies ahead the way you came, before we move on?" dared the elder.

"The way has been cleared last night with great sacrifice, so it is safe passage all the way to Yasha'Lafiq."

The elder man's face brightened at this news and he heaved a sigh of relief, his face clearly loosening up.

"Old man, but you are clearly some way from home, what has happened to you?" said Yamsoor, sizing the passing refugees up and down and inspecting their cargo with some nonchalant interest.

"We were forced to leave our town at the foot of the mountains due to heavy rains and lightning strikes. We haven't any knowledge of such floods in the last couple generations."

"That is the planetary collision storm and it's coming, don't you know this much, old man?"

"Watch your tone, Yamsoor!" Jayaza intervened. "My fellow here wants to tell you that this is not a natural weather phenomenon. You should head northwards to Yasha'Lafiq and seek shelter there."

"I have overheard that we are really within days of bright Yasha'Lafiq?" asked another one of the refugees with a thick southern accent, with some vigilance in his gaze.

"Yes," said Jayaza, heaving a sigh. "We have been expecting refugees from all over Alyriam at this point, but see if anyone is willing to offer shelter, otherwise you will purchase your place with work and whatever supplies you have to spare."

"So everyone is suffering nowadays," the vigilance in the other man's eyes lessened.

"In these times, can there be a free meal?" said Jayaza with melancholy.

The elder narrowed his eyes and said no more.

After finishing these introductions, tidings and information were then shared back and forth between the parties. They also traded supplies, arsenal, vraja potion ingredients and recipes. Ssyba silently cursed herself for not bringing some tokens along, though she couldn't have possibly guessed that they'll meet a caravan of foreigners on their way. Yamsoor also traded his looted izzia ingredients for some basic goods.

"Wouldn't they fetch a better price at the warehouses in the city?" asked Ssyba with some initiative.

"Yes, but restocking on our provisions is more useful right now."

"I feel enlightened," marveled Ssyba as if witnessing some shard of divine wisdom. "It's worthless to drag all those ingredients in hopes of a better price later. Besides, they might even be discarded on our way to the tomb."

"Exactly, you are right," said Yamsoor with a jolt of shock at her intrusive wit.

However, Ssyba had more than once expressed her passion towards vraja potions and she even worked with a brewess of healing potions. It was not strange at all for Ssyba to have accumulated knowledge of trading along the way, so his vigilance disappeared, blaming this unusual tension on the sudden meeting with the refugees caravan.

"Young Ssyba, wouldn't you happen to be looking for work after this expedition is finished?"

"Marduni willing we all get back safely," laughed Ssyba, and Yamsoor felt a little silly for having had any incertitude in her.

"Yes. I was hoping you were, because I am hiring. Just leaving the offer for you, I have some higher up connections and hoping to get into some real business soon."

"Are you sure, lord Yamsoor?" Ssyba asked.

"I am. In my opinion, you are wasting yourself in this brutish line of work, there are things far more suitable for your cleverness," further offered Yamsoor, to which Ssyba agreed completely. In her heart, Ssyba's attention was already beyond limiting herself to helping Fagan achieve his dream.

"It depends what my gains are after this expedition and whether I'll continue to work under Fagan next," admitted Ssyba.

"Understandable, but keep my offer in mind," said Yamsoor, winking at her.

"I will," said Ssyba with a smile.

Soon after that the winds calmed and the sky cleared, so Jayaza had finally called for a break, officially at least, because nobody was in the mood of continuing to travel at this point anyway.

As always when strangers meet in the wilderness at a resting place, they gathered 'round and turned from trading to storytelling, to simple talk of life and family, to tales about the unending threat of the desert and its inhabitants.

"Did you guess already what got into these izzii bastards?" asked someone.

"Our elder believes it must be because they are also affected by whatever destroyed our village."

The elder acknowledged these introductory words with a mood free of agitation, saying:

"The izzia swarms have been driven up the valleys by these odd flash floods. With their burrows and underground hives destroyed, they ravaged the country and are moving northward day by day."

"Makes sense, they are running from the storm as would any living beast. How did you escape anyway?"

"My eldest son, Simirum, saved us with his array of earth and roots vraja potions, quickly building a strong defense and a safe way out, otherwise we wouldn't have survived."

The one named Simirum quickly stepped forward and puffed his chest, declaring how he had battled fifty izzia soldiers all at once. It was all in good spirits and everyone's mood gradually brightened.

"Brave warriors, this road you're taking is more dangerous than the open desert up north, from where you come from."

Jayaza's lips curled up in a smile.

"We are searching for the tomb of Ba Busal," he said, but most of the refugees present shook their heads.

"To you, the name Ba Busal might tell nothing, but what about Busel'ek, or Busal Akl?" intervened Derdal, making his expertise in history and mythology known.

Derdal was always quiet and solemn, rarely speaking. Even when he spoke, his tone was cold and indifferent, brusquely clearing any subject and making his will known. In sooth, Jayaza had picked Derdal more for his knowledge and research of the tomb, not for his aptitude as a reconnaissance specialist, for he had a pick of many other mercenaries and adepts.

Still, the refugees shook their heads.

As Derdal began talking, it turned out none among those present had ever heard of the name, not even the efayan elder. In such a rich and cultural city like Yasha'Lafiq, even fewer had any semblance of authority on the subject: The Tomb of Ba, the catacombs of Ba Busal, the mausoleum or the lost ossuary were all placeholders. Everyone seemed to have made their own lore regarding these ruins, the legendary tales of today having once been nothing more than candlelight speculations and eccentric theories. The actual truth was, as odd as it might sound, even more fantastical than the fabricated stories.

"These ruins were once part of the treasurehold of Na'calial," elucidated Derdal as the rest of them successively gathered around him. "The civilization before Alyriam turned into a desert was prosperous and powerful, these lands were filled with lush greenery, sparkling waters, wildlife and strong people."

"I can hardly imagine there to be forests in place of this desert," admitted one of the nanza-cats, to which many nodded in support.

"Envision a desert oasis surrounded by trees, and stretch all that image over the whole land," said the elder, humorously petting the nanza's head. The nanza squinted his eyes and seemed to ponder.

"It was more than that," said Derdal to all the faces watching him attentively. "Alyriam was extremely rich and its borders sacred. It was a whole unified region of our world, it had mountains, rivers and lakes, fertile plains and beautiful woodlands. There have been many legendary and mythical figures in the past and many civilizations have had their roots here. It was only after, that this whole region turned to dust, flattened by the planetary collision storms over millennia of elementals grinding against one another, and its power waned."

More and more gathered around Derdal as he explained the history of the land to them. It was almost comedic: savage and predatorial nanza-cats, some renowned killers, poor refugees who barely owned the clothes on themselves, elders and youth alike, all watching him with wide eyes and a childlike attitude.

"What caused these storms?" finally somebody asked the question that no one else dared.

"It was due to the glory of that era. Today we are diminished and dwindled, but in those days, kings were gods, much of the lands that we tread upon and the weather have been modeled in the antique history. Can you imagine the ten princes of Yasha'Lafiq mortally overshadowed? That is what king Na'calial could do."

The gathering began discussing the tale with a chorus of voices, each giving their impression in a dramatic display. But when your eyes are dazzled by those bygone magnificence, do you bend the knee and acknowledge? Do you bow your head in reverence, and only dare mutter the words? Or do you feel envy?

Dispossessed as an animal ought to be so that balance in the Yada to exist, for Ssyba it was envy. She coveted the treasures and power of Na'calial, her beastly mind already wandered far beyond her impermanent limits. Ssyba wanted to be immortal, to be feared and revered as the shadow that follows, to make offense of nobles and princes and force them to look over their shoulders, to become a bloody demon, calm with violence and deep in honor, indifferent to the perishable ethos of mankind.

In the end, it all came to the same conclusion: war between self and circumstance.

"I've heard these stories," ventured Yamsoor. "This is why planetary collision storms hit Alyriam at set intervals. It was a punishment for Na'calial's ugly whim."

"What story?" asked Jayaza.

"It was a story about the frailty of men that I once heard. In it, the king overstepped his boundaries and tried to seduce the dryad queen for the secret of immortality. Outraged by such pretense, the dryads incited the beasts of the earth against Na'calial. But they couldn't war against his power and so they were slaughtered and enslaved. In response, the dryads collaborated and created the planetary collision storm, which eventually did destroy old Alyriam. Apparently, even the heavens joined against Na'calial."

"Talk about shitting the bed," mocked one of the nanza-cats, joined by an ensemble of hoarse, animalistic laughter. Anything that the nanza-cats could latch on to make themselves feel superior to humans and their insatiable lust.

"Indeed," murmured Derdal. "Only much later, aeons later in fact, did the sage Busel'ek, also known as Busal Akl, come into play although his story is much more popular."

Derdal then described the legend of the sage Busel'ek, whose love for his soulless tso-woman wife was great enough to commit countless atrocities in the name of research. Almost a thousand years ago, Busel'ek was the vizier to a minor lafiqi noble, and the tso-woman was merely a soulless creation of the Guild of Constructs, as all tso-men were. They fell in love at first sight and although Busel'ek commanded much influence and had control over vast resources, he couldn’t grant a soul to his beloved. His experimentation led him to cause many sacrifices and delve into the formidable and widely prohibited necromantic arts.

After the other nobles discovered all the atrocities enacted in secret, they attacked and hunted him down. The tso-woman uncharacteristically fled her masters, the city, and braved the desert all on her own. Under the play of destiny, she found Busel'ek and together they hid away in the mountains of Efayan, legends have it, where they managed to live as sages.

This story of emancipation, although controversial at the time, spread far and wide in Alyriam and gave the non-humans some much needed confidence. The tso-men eventually rebelled and fled, founding their fantastical city, creating a culture beyond the eastern borders, and many animals and non-humans secured liberty.

Derdal's mood became solemn:

"The tso-woman fleeing the city was akin to treason and Busel'ek was already considered a wanted criminal. Eventually their hideout was discovered and besieged, though nobody could truly penetrate its defenses. It time, it was believed that Busel'ek died there, together with his tso-woman."

Ssyba listened without comment, both fascinated and dismayed at the profundity of their history and the boundlessness of the world just beyond the comforting walls of her city. Magical constructs, forgotten tombs, tragic tales of love and death. Like most nanza-cats in Yasha’Lafiq, she had never once stepped outside of the confines of her own ignorance yet ventured to look at the world with an arrogance only an animal could amass.

Not anymore.

From that day onward, out of those moments of comfortable companionship, tale and gossip, Ssyba developed a curiosity and a strong will to school herself and learn all that could be learnt about the greatness of the world and everything on earth and heaven. And for the first time she understood: she had no real comprehension of what the world had to offer.

***

Day turned dim faster in this region, and with all the arrangements and the cacophony of the two parties bumping into one another, the decision to camp together for the remainder of the night has been made, not without controversy. Derdal had nothing against it as he claimed he needed to meditate and sleep in order to recuperate mana. He was justified by the fact that he had wasted too much mana beforehand when using the lightning fang gaze, and how mana-intensive reconnaissance in general was. Yamsoor argued that it was the seventh night already, and tomorrow they'd have to hasten the march and risk facing the tomb fatigued. To his impotent exasperation, nobody seemed to give a damn.

The clear night sky was studded with ripples of multicolored bright stars. Around a campfire some distance away from the main camping area, seven nanza-cats were sitting in a circle and conspired in muted tones.

"Boss, we just couldn't find Sibaud's sword no matter how hard we looked," reported one of Zioz' underlings, daring not to look into his eyes.

Zioz revealed an irked expression, then turned displeased at Tidja.

"What the hell did you even do? Didn't you tell Ssyba to take care of Sibaud?"

"I did, I did, but it seemed to me like Yamsoor is holding her occupied," Tidja meowed pitifully.

"Again, with that degenerate!" Zioz roared, eyes wide opened and so wild that even Tidja jolted. Before she could scamper back, he reached and grabbed her by the chin and dragged her closer.

He licked his lips as if he readied himself to devour her like a rodent.

"Speaking of Sibaud, where is he?" asked another nanza in a futile attempt to pacify Zioz.

The campfire quieted down as everyone looked around for their enemy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"See, even if she wanted, Ssyba couldn't keep him occupied because he is gone," miserably whined Tidja under the painful pressure of his squeeze.

Suddenly, a pair of bright eyes regarded the group from just beyond the edge of darkness. Immediately after, a wide and eerie metallic smile flashed.

It was Sibaud unsheathing his scimitar. He stepped into the light of the campfire.

"It's him!" hissed Tidja.

Everyone was stunned, the target of their fiddling scheme had unexpectedly appeared directly in front of them. This bold act of revealing himself made them all feel concerned and upset. Did Sibaud learn of their plot and alerted Jayaza? No, Shan would have said something, thought Zioz.

A nanza male named Lorgo jumped straight to his hind paws and nonchalantly walked up to Sibaud, speaking with a sinister smile:

"If you know what's good for ya…"

He hadn't finished saying what he wanted to say, when Sibaud raised his leg in one instantaneous moment, sending him flying back. For some reason, Lorgo had anticipated that Sibaud might attack and he was prepared to parry his blade or his left paw's claws. What he didn't appreciate was the angle of the kick as well as the force. Sibaud veritably smashed right through his blockade.

"Courting death!"

Immediately, all the nanza jumped forth and roared as they charged at Sibaud. He raised his scimitar and held them all back at sword point.

"You waste your fur!"

"Fight like a true nanza, coward!"

"Despicable, actually using your weapon!"

Their insults rumbled like a raging tide, but they all held back and slowed their advance.

"You're looking to be skinned alive!" shouted Lorgo.

His left brow was already so swollen that it shut his eye, but he stood up gritting his fangs.

"I'll fight Zioz in a duel!" Sibaud shouted over the others. "I won't use this blade if you all stand your damn ground, but I won't hesitate cutting you nasty scumbags."

Surprised and angry, the group began roaring furiously but were silenced by Zioz' reply.

"You have guts. Fine!" he said while flexing his neck, shoulders and arms.

Zioz waved his claws open and pounced upon Sibaud without a second thought. They battled for a time, kicking, slashing and dodging, before Sibaud spun and crashed his knee into Zioz' nose, breaking it instantly. Blood started flowing copiously. This attack did not go unpunished as Zioz swept his claws horizontally, sending Sibaud's face to the side. When he turned back, three gruesome cuts stretched from ear to mouth.

He screamed in pain and rage, however Zioz quickly lunged forth and was already on him, kicking at him. Sibaud ducked and tried to attack with his claws at the belly area. Zioz expertly brought down his heel mid air like a descending sledgehammer, cracking unpleasantly on Sibaud's head. His forehead smashed on the hard ground. Zioz did not react in time, Sibaud's paw reached and pulled him off his feet. He climbed over Zioz and began asphyxiating him.

"How… I hate… your kind!" grunted Sibaud with his saliva and blood flying all over.

Zioz abandoned all thought of breathing, battled only to keep his carotid and neck from collapsing. He managed to slide his arms under Sibaud and cleared some distance, then kneed him in the crotch.

"Ouu…!" Sibaud grimaced and jumped straight to his feet, but was savagely slapped back on the ground by the one named Spill.

As blood from the cuts began to pool under, Spill walked over and muttered maniacally, unsheathing his frightful claws. His fur was white and gray with a few darker spots, his eyes were wide and psychotic. He was born with a mutation and a mental deficiency. His claws have always been unnaturally long and sharp, and his precarious mental capacity did not allow him to do much besides killing. He wasn't even capable of dressing himself and would have died, had Fagan not discovered him many years ago, wild and starved as a cub. He had taken care of this beast ever since that day, training and tempering his mind and body into that of an assassin.

"Don't do it! He's mine, I was winning!" crawled Zioz back on his feet with the help of Tidja.

He put his paw on Spill's shoulder to stop him, but Spill merely shrugged him off. He paced from Zioz back at Sibaud, who was curled on the ground grasping at his face and making muffled sounds. He unpretentiously raised his massive claws, closed his fist until only his forefinger pointed at the fallen nanza, and stabbed at Sibaud's ribs.

Sibaud screamed in pain.

"Hey hey, don't be like that, come up and fight us and cut us," said Spill with coolness, but that made him all the more spine-chilling.

He grinned then, taking joy in this grisly sight.

"Make way, ratbags!"

"It's mister Stabs, give way!"

"This isn't good! Stop at once!" somebody walked over from the main camping site.

It was Fagan, and everyone else scuttled back as if to deny their involvement in this scandal.

Straight away, Spill dropped on his knees, lowering his head.

"Lord Fagan Stabs, I continuously pray for your good fortune!"

"Never mind that, but what has happened in this place?"

"It was my fault," admitted Zioz, limping forth from the back of the group.

Fagan's anger surged to the skies, he decided to teach all these nanza-cats an unforgettable lesson. But seeing both Zioz and especially Sibaud's poor state, he forgot his rage and asked:

"Why did you look for problems with Sibaud?"

"He had dishonored me first, and the use of a blade only added to my injury," plainly replied Zioz as he wiped away his tears.

Fagan's disappointment in him brought more pain to Zioz than all the battles and all the insults ever could.

Sibaud slowly recovered his senses and upon seeing Spill kneel on the ground near him with his head lowered, in that thoughtless moment he rushed with his scimitar out in one precise motion, ready to decapitate him. All time slowed down to its infinitesimal limit and he would have succeeded if not for Ran intervening, who parried the blade. Sinaud wordlessy recovered and spun on his knees for a low angle counterattack. Ran raised his claws ready to parry but was taken by surprise when the blade flashed past him. Sibaud actually tangled his tail around his leg and pulled Ran on the ground. Then, in a fluid sweep, he regained his footing and mercilessly brought down the point of his sword towards Ran's chest.

This time he was stopped by both Fagan and Ssyba, and was subdued on the ground.

"This has gone too far, son," growled Fagan with the intensity of a wild monstrous beast.

"Son? The slaughter I could have unleashed!"

Smack!

Fagan slapped Sibaud despite his cuts and injuries.

"That's quite enough. Ssyba, take away his sword!"

"Give it back before…"

Slap!

This time it was Ran who slapped him, hard enough to silence him.

"We can't let this go on," continued Fagan as he walked over every nanza involved, giving several tight slaps with an open paw as he passed by them. There could be no greater insult in the nanza world than bowing your head and being slapped.

Fagan's expression was ugly and with each word of scolding and each resounding slap, he turned even more gloomy and scary. The once warlike nanza were now covering their faces in pain and shame. As he did this, Shan simply grabbed Spill by the arm and dragged him away from the turmoil, walking alongside Ran who carried Sibaud.

Then he turned to Zioz:

"You are getting more and more out of control, you even dare causing a scene behind my back. I won't ask them to heal you," darkly spoke Fagan as he pointed at the humans, who could use vraja potions to instantly heal others.

Zioz and the rest were stupefied. They knew what battling izzia monsters implied. An injured, slow or otherwise ill nanza-cat would simply be the first to die.

"Mister Stabs, what are you doing?" shouted Tidja, the one who nearly died during an izzia assault.

However, Fagan barely moved to acknowledge her presence when she fell down to kowtow, mewling pitifully. He had nothing against bullying among the nanza in particular. On one hand it would suppress the arrogance of the more fiery ones, like Zioz and a few others, on the other hand it promoted harmony between them all, with the strongest on the top easily controlling the weaker ones.

But this time the bullying went too far, they nearly risked death and thus, the success of this entire mission. What difference was there between them and hired bandits?

Each nanza involved received a few slaps, none dared to speak up in fear of Fagan's authority. They could only clench their fists and grind their fangs in shame and anger.

"Get to sleep, I will settle accounts with you tomorrow when we resume the journey. It'll be a long hike and I'll make sure you carry the weight of your sins," shouted Fagan.

The nanza didn't dare go against his order, but before leaving all of them angrily looked at Sibaud, engraving his image in the depths of their hate-filled hearts.