Chapter Text
The training grounds were sticky and humid, the sun beating down upon Lata's back as he swung his sword in repetitive, up-and-over motions. A hundred reps, Vice Commander Aureville had demanded, and though the boy was not more than seventeen, he had both the physical prowess and the fancy noble title to back up his influence. Rumours were even beginning to spread that he would be promoted to Knight Commander in the not-so-distant future.
Lata did his best not to pay the matter any mind. People were of not much interest to him; though most of his fellow knights were affable enough, he felt he had little in common with them, save for chivalry and their shared knowledge of swordsmanship. Indeed, most of those in the knights’ circle now were discussing an upcoming soiree at the Aureville family estate, an event Lata was determined to wriggle his way out of - but likely had no hope of doing, given that he had nowhere to be and no believable excuse to turn down the invitation.
It was times like these that made Lata ever the more convinced he was making the right choice in leaving the knights’ circle, and all the related ties to nobility. He had made his decision months ago, having promised the current Knight Commander Koff to stay until the end of the summer, a few weeks from now; groups of fiendish bandits and raiders had been threatening villages and robbing carriages nonstop since the weather had grown pleasant, and the knights could use all the help they could get. A twinge of guilt flickered in Lata's chest each time they were called in to fight; he had been proud to serve his kingdom, and to do so well, but he could not see his future here when he looked ahead.
Reps finally finished, Lata sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow. He kicked up some of the dirt underneath his boots; crouching down, he ran his fingers through the dusty earth - something caught the light of the sun, and after a bit of digging Lata proudly retrieved the glistening stone from its home in the ground - seddenstone, that was what his book on mineralogy had called this. He dusted it off, tucked it into his tunic pocket for later inspection, and set off for his lunch break.
Lata was not surprised to see groups of fellow men gossiping to one another about this topic or that in the dining hall, and had every intention of eating alone at a solitary table near the back of the room. But the disconcertion in the knights’ faces caught his attention; indeed, most of them seemed to be on the verge of panicked.
“...don’t want someone like that here, watching my every move!” one of the knights was muttering between bites of food. Someone like that. Who could he mean? Admittedly curious, Lata chose a secluded seat near enough to the ensuing discussion, intending to eavesdrop as he dined. He didn’t have to listen long before the clues came together.
“Shinsu Jiran - he’s the future head of the family, they say,” another knight was mumbling in hushed tones. “Those inspectors…”
“I thought he retired after the King and Queen’s wedding?”
“Well, obviously not, because he’s headed here!”
“No doubt if he comes here, he’ll be reporting back every misstep of ours.”
“Surely he has better things to do.”
“Does he, though? Those who had the misfortune of meeting him say he’s impossible to get along with.”
Lata had to chuckle at that. “Impossible to get along with” - he’d heard that comment uttered about himself many a time. He knew only a little about the Jirans; merely that, as the other knights had stated, they were inspectors for Clarines and that their son, Shinsu, was known to be reclusive and difficult. Was he coming to Elsignia, for some reason? Why? But before he could contemplate potential reasons, Lata shook himself. He was getting ahead of himself; he had no reason to worry, let alone care, about Shinsu Jiran or why the man was coming to the knights’ circle here.
People did not interest him, after all.
The collar to Lata’s overcoat felt as if it were choking him further every second he spent in this densely-packed hall. Sweaty, inebriated bodies danced and laughed and gossiped, making a right racket of noise that bounced off of every finely-decorated wall. The dessert platters and fresh wine were of little consolation to Lata’s mood, even as he stood in his finest clothes pressed up in the most isolated corner of the room. He deeply regretted not fumbling his way out of this soiree, away from the noise and crowd and inane conversations he had no desire to partake in.
He needed some air.
Lata slipped through the door, up a floor, and onto the balcony, which appeared, from the outside, to be mercifully vacant. The night air was blissfully cool against his skin as he stepped out, leaning against the railing and gazing up at the stars, sighing as the quietude finally enveloped him.
He should have realized he was not alone; his knight’s training should have made him more perceptive. But Lata had been too eager to get out, and had missed the fellow escapee situated on the other side of the balcony - the stranger's arms crossed as he rested up against the wall. “I wasn't aware anyone else knew about this spot,” the man trilled, obviously displeased.
Lata didn’t blame him; he, too, would have been less than happy about his seclusion being interrupted. As it were, however, Lata’s mood was already sour from the earlier barrage of festivities, and he tsk-ed, wishing the stranger would be the one to go away instead. “Clearly, nor did I, because I wouldn’t have come if I’d known someone else was already here.”
“You’re welcome to leave.”
“And go back in there?” Lata retorted. “If you’ve come here for refuge as well, you should understand why I will do no such thing.”
“I rather enjoy the peace and quiet,” the man explained simply. “It’s far away from the nonsense of small talk and drunkards.”
Lata clicked his tongue. “You speak as though I am fond of either.”
To Lata’s surprise, the stranger chuckled. He stepped forward, until the light from the oil lamps of the mansion illuminated his face. He was not much older than Lata, with pale choppy bangs that curtained his delicate features, and tired blue eyes that seemed just as exasperated with the evening as Lata was. Had his spirits been better, Lata might have found that fact a bit comforting - that he was not the only noble incapable of bearing the banality of dinner parties.
“You’re in the knights’ circle, correct?” the man remarked. He nodded to the sword sheathed at Lata’s belt.
“Correct,” Lata echoed, “though I’m not sure why that's relevant presently.”
The stranger only shrugged, turning to leave as he did so; to his surprise, Lata couldn’t tell if he was pleased about the man’s departure or not. “Who knows. Since you are, however, perhaps I will be seeing you again soon,” the stranger mused, and before Lata could reply he had disappeared back into the mansion.
The newfound peace and solitude should have been a blessing to Lata, but the exchange had left him puzzled. It was rare, downright unheard of, for someone to share his rather uncouth dislike of others’ company (or at least, to admit so aloud). Most of his fellow knights enjoyed an evening of food and alcohol and socializing; Lata could have done without the latter of the three, and that very fact often left him a pariah. Ironically, upon reflection, he would have been partial to further conversation with the stranger to see what else, if anything, they had in common.
Lata blinked back his surprise over his desire to actually socialize with another person, and stared at the door, as if waiting for the stranger to return - though if he were anything like Lata, he never would.
Wait.
The man’s comment about the knights’ circle; about “seeing him again”. And his obvious disdain for his peers - for the nonsense of small talk and drunkards . It brought back a memory from the day prior, the murmurs between anxious knights over lunch.
Those who had the misfortune of meeting him say he’s impossible to get along with.
Lata shook his head and gaped at the door.
Had he just met Lord Shinsu Jiran?
The rest of Lata’s weekend was spent in peaceful solitude: in his quarters, sorting his assortment of rocks and gems, reviewing some mineralogy texts he’d managed to get his hands on. It was a much-needed reprieve from the festivities of the banquet, and Lata returned to the knights’ circle the following week feeling refreshed and energized.
The training grounds were unusually quiet today; there were few, if any, knights actually training - indeed, most of them were huddled in groups, whispering to one another. Lata frowned, puzzled, but the closer he drew to the center of the crowd, the more he understood.
It was the stranger - no, not the stranger, Lord Shinsu Jiran , standing between the commander and vice-commander of the knights’ circle. Lord Jiran regarded his fellow knights impassively, with much the same expression he’d worn when Lata had had the misfortune of encountering him at the ball. It was almost humorous how ostensibly terrified the other knights were of the man; as if he were afflicted with some sort of deadly ailment.
Lata sighed and was fully prepared to go about his usual business - training with his own company - until Vice Commander Aureville began barking at his men. “Show some respect, you fools! We have the great privilege of welcoming help from Lord Shinsu Jiran, with the hope he will get to the bottom of this latest increase in petty crime around the town. He is just as finely trained as a knight as all of you, and I’d be grateful if someone would offer to show him just how skilled we all are.”
Rolling his eyes, Lata glanced about the grounds. The vice commander may have been young, but he had a constant edge to his voice that typically had people jumping before he even said how high. Yet this time, nobody moved a muscle. Nobody spoke, or would even dare glance in Lord Jiran’s way.
The man managed a thin, amused sort of smile, Lata noticed. It stirred something in Lata that had him marching forward before he could think twice about it.
Hand on his sword, Lata pushed his way to where Lord Jiran stood, maybe ten feet apart from one another now. “I’m up for a sparring match, if you so please,” he said, picking up a wooden training sword from the benches surrounding the dusty training grounds.
Lord Jiran raised a brow - that amused look still on his face. He took a step towards Lata and cocked his head. “Your swordsmanship must be quite good, if you have so much time to train instead of attending soirees.”
“I suppose you’ll find out,” Lata replied drily. He wasn’t anticipating the man finding it funny, but Lord Jiran chuckled anyway, retrieving a wooden sword of his own. The commander and vice commander both retreated to the sidelines, and Lata noticed that the knights had taken to encircling the sparring grounds with curiosity piqued. He scowled, more than a little displeased with the attention and already regretting his decision to offer a match. “What do you want if you win?” Lata asked under his breath, out of earshot from anyone else.
“Ah? What do I want?”
“Well, you clearly hold a grudge against me for intruding on your space at that banquet,” Lata muttered. “So, if you win, I shall compensate you in some way.”
Lord Jiran paused and thought for a moment. “I’ll consider that. But what do you want if you win?”
Now it was Lata’s turn to think. He hadn’t actually expected the man to entertain his ridiculous request to make things even between them; after all, he did not know how good Shinsu Jiran’s swordsmanship skills were (although he could hazard a guess, given his family line of work) and Lata had no idea if he would win - or instead, get to fulfill that mysterious request of Lord Jiran's. And he didn’t want to ask for something too outlandish, lest someone in such high standing find him spoiled and materialistic.
So Lata settled on, “A meal in the marketplace.”
At that, Lord Jiran smiled - a real smile this time, the corners of his lips reaching his eyes. “You don’t ask for much.”
“I can’t say the same about you, as I don’t know what you want.”
“Well, I don’t think it will matter,” Lord Jiran replied evenly.
“Oh?”
“I think you can win,” he explained, giving Lata a once-over. “You have a certain…determination in your eye.”
Before Lata could reply, though, Vice Commander Aureville raised his hand to start the match. “Lord Forzeno, Lord Jiran - the first to admit defeat will end the match. Go!”
Maybe it was Lord Jiran’s words, or just the man’s keen eye - but Lata did feel determined, darting forth with all his might and speed. Advance, parry, retreat, block, strike - over and over, dodging and swinging with an equal mix of offense and defense. Yet his opponent dove back with perfectly matched stamina, parrying Lata’s training blade once, twice, three times over for every offensive tactic Lata attempted. At this rate, the pair of them would simply tire one another out.
After yet another fleury of action Lata retreated, stepping back, trying to contemplate his next move - all while Lord Jiran regarded him in much the same way. And Lata realized something important: Lord Jiran wasn’t just waiting for him to strike; he was studying him.
It both unnerved and fascinated Lata.
At last Lord Jiran advanced, sword raised and at the ready. But the way he had tried to read Lata rather than rush towards him had given Lata an idea…to do much the same. How had his moves been up to this point? His defense was good, exceptional even - but it always came from below. If he could feign striking from that direction… giving it a chance, Lata deflected Lord Jiran’s swing of the sword, pretended to land a blow below his waist - and changed course midway, the wooden blade of his sword hitting Lord Jiran in the side.
Lord Jiran hissed, but didn’t drop his sword; still, he staggered back, clutching his middle with his free hand. Lata said nothing, even as Vice Commander Aureville announced his victory and their fellow knights watched him in awe - he’d dared defeat a member of the Jiran family in combat, as if! Instead, Lata prepared to leave and resume whatever task he’d been planning to do before this whole charade had begun.
Once he was comfortably situated in his secluded little corner of the training grounds, however, a voice behind him made Lata stop. “You fought well,” Lord Jiran commented. “So, where do you wish to dine?”
Lata frowned. “In my quarters, alone,” he replied flatly. “I only asked for a meal.”
“Perhaps I want to discuss your skills in more depth over said meal,” Lord Jiran countered.
“Perhaps I wish otherwise.”
“The commander warned me you were difficult,” the man said suddenly, crossing his arms. Before Lata could voice his irritation, though, Lord Jiran added: “You are , however, one of the most interesting people I’ve met in town so far.”
Lata shrugged. “All the better for you, then, I suppose.”
“A meal with you would be most intriguing,” Lord Jiran pressed again. “If you oblige, I’ll forgive your interrupting my peace and quiet at the banquet hall.”
Lata was fully prepared to tell Lord Jiran that such a request was abhorrent and ridiculous; he was not ‘interesting' , and he had no trouble denying the invitation altogether. But he couldn’t entirely deny that the match had been, at the very least, enlightening; he’d never had an opponent take in and learn his movements so quickly, so accurately . It wasn’t as if it would matter in the near future, what with Lata planning to depart Lyrias in a month’s time…but Lord Jiran had proven an entertaining conversationalist thus far, and the allure of free food was just enough for Lata to make up his mind.
“Alright,” he agreed at last, giving a single nod. “Breakfast, first thing in the morning, in the marketplace.”
Trying not to yawn - or question why he had agreed to this at all - Lata rubbed sleep from his eyes and walked towards the center of the Elsignia marketplace. There was a large, ornamental fountain in the heart of downtown, and Lord Jiran had promised to meet Lata in front of it. It was still early (too early for Lata’s liking), but the promise of a delicious meal had won him over, and he was going to make the most of it.
Lata would not admit to himself that he, too, was curious to learn more about this peculiar Shinsu Jiran.
The man was right on time, awaiting Lata by the fountain and checking his pocket watch. He nodded as Lata came into his line of sight, though Lata couldn’t tell if he was content, displeased, or something else entirely; he really was a challenge to read. “You came,” Lord Jiran remarked plainly.
“You did not expect for me to be a man of my word?”
“I have come to expect little of other people,” was all Lord Jiran responded. Without elaborating further, he pointed to a nearby cafe. “The locals speak encouragingly of that place over there. Shall we, then?”
Lata only hummed in reply, and the two of them walked to their destination in a taut silence. An overly-chipper server showed the two men to a table near the back of the establishment, poured them both some steaming hot tea, took their orders, and scurried away.
It had been ages since Lata had actually sat down at a restaurant across from another person…by choice, anyhow. And, well, though this was not exactly his first choice, he wasn’t opposed to it - though he was growing uncomfortable by the way Lord Jiran was inspecting him. “Is something intriguing to you?” Lata asked at last.
“You don’t intend to stay in the knights’ circle, do you?” his companion inquired suddenly - as a statement of fact, not a question.
Lata was stunned. “Who told you that?”
“You aren’t denying it?”
“I have no reason to deny something you cannot prove in the first place, Lord Jiran.”
That amused smile was back on his face. “Is that how you address all of your fellow knights in the circle, Lord Forzeno?”
Lata clicked his tongue and sighed. “Lord Forzeno is my father, Sir Shinsu. Do not listen to the Vice Commander’s forced niceties.”
“So you do grant me permission to use your first name?” When Lata grunted his assent, Lord Jiran continued, “Then be at ease. You don’t strike me as the type to be intimidated by titles, so there’s no reason to act like it.”
The rumours, for once, had been true, at least; the man was obviously more than a tad perceptive when it came to other people. There was a certain irony in the fact that his interests lay where Lata’s did not - Lata could not have cared less about analyzing one person’s motivations or another’s. Yet here the two of them were, ordering breakfast , a curious type of banter flowing back and forth between them. It was riddled with angst, yes - but there was no malice in either man’s tone.
“Tell me why you intend to leave,” Lord Jiran - Shinsu - asked as the server brought them their meals. “After all, your skills were nothing short of formidable. You’re quite the asset to Clarines.”
Lata was more interested in digging into his eggs on toast, and was not ready to hear another knight barraging him with questions and pleas for him to stay - but a thought came to his mind; that if anyone would understand why he was leaving, it would be the enigmatic Shinsu Jiran.
“I intend to study in Lyrias,” Lata said simply between bites of food. “I am not suited for the circle of nobility.”
“Ah.” Shinsu sipped his tea. “Thus your escape from that banquet last weekend.”
Grumbling over the reminder once again, Lata set down his fork and gazed at his companion. “You, too, were on that balcony as I recall. So, does the circle of nobility not suit you, either?”
“It’s not that.” Shinsu shook his head. “It’s rather…that others in general do not suit me.” When Lata blinked his confusion, the man continued, “I’ve seen the way people lie, and conspire, and collude. It’s prevalent in the nobility, more than we like to imagine.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“So why stay as a knight, or as an inspector, if you are so disillusioned with the nobility?” Lata countered. “I thought I’d heard you retired from all of that.”
“Her Majesty herself allowed me a chance for a mission here after the knights' circle reached out to my family,” he explained. “Sitting about in a mansion, doing menial things…it’s grown tedious. As for my disillusionment, well…often the worlds of nobility and commoners are intertwined, you see. Nobles speak ill of commoners, and vice versa, but it’s not unheard of for nobles to hire outsiders as assassins or spies for instance. The two groups aren’t as separate as those of higher status have us believe.” Shinsu sighed and gazed out the window. “And someone always needs to stop evil at its roots.”
“I’m well aware,” Lata said, a tad annoyed at being lectured in such a way. “And that is why I intend to get away from it all. Those in Lyrias are there solely to study.”
“Ah, but do you really believe those scholars will overlook your noble title in favour of celebrating your achievements?” The smile Shinsu offered him was bittersweet but knowing. Lata bristled; of course , they would overlook it - wouldn’t they? They would notice his achievements, at the very least. Not like here, where all his fellow knights wished to discuss was training and women and whatever other gossip abounded.
Or perhaps Lata was merely deluding himself. Everything else Shinsu had said, he knew too well already….so… “I would hope so,” Lata said in the end.
Shinsu picked away at his food once more, still smiling thinly. “I want to hope so, too.” Something about the way he spoke felt light and pleasant in Lata’s chest; that at least one other person, brusque and pessimistic though Shinsu Jiran might be, wished for him to succeed.
“I want to know how you were so sure that I was departing the knights’ circle,” Lata asked suddenly.
“It’s not as complicated as you seem to think,” Shinsu chuckled. “The vice commander merely informed me, when he mentioned you and your eccentricities.” He tilted his head, curious. “You want to study mineralogy, is that it?”
Lata nodded, no longer surprised over what Shinsu knew or didn’t. Reflexively, his hand went to his pocket, which housed one of many interesting stones he’d found along his walk to the marketplace. He was overcome with the desire to show it to his companion, for no other reason than he felt the man would, if nothing else, appreciate Lata’s deviation from the noble norm.
And so he did, before he could think twice of it, wordlessly proffering the stone over to Shinsu across from him.
He accepted it gingerly, and Lata noticed (and deeply appreciated) the way he wiped his hand on his napkin before doing so. The stone glistened in the light peeking through the cafe’s window, its pearly luster catching the sun’s rays in a pleasing way to Lata’s eye. A faint purple hue coloured the stone through its deep earthy tone, and Lata was itching to return back to his quarters to identify it properly.
“You collect these often, then?” Shinsu asked, handing the rock back to him. Lata nodded and tucked it back into his pocket, wondering why the topic was so interesting to the man, but Shinsu nodded in response, apparently understanding. “It’s good you have something to find joy in,” he said simply, in such a way that had Lata wondering whether Shinsu Jiran found joy in anything at all.
The two finished their meals in relative silence; though this time, the quiet was far less strained, Lata noticed. It was still by no means comfortable , but Lata felt he had a better comprehension of the man before him: a man who had also grown weary of the nobility, but had also seen the grief caused by those outside of it. What had he witnessed that had scarred him in such a manner that not even Lata could match his misanthropy?
And why did Lata want to soothe that scar?
When Shinsu paid for their meals and the two left the establishment, he turned to Lata and paused. “I hope I did not deter you from traveling to Lyrias,” he said.
Lata shook his head. “You didn’t,” he assured him. “If I am not welcomed by others, I will merely do my research alone.”
“I have merely been exposed to the lowest depths of humanity, and I suppose I have no desire to trust others any longer,” he continued, and had Lata not known better, he’d have said Shinsu sounded…saddened. But when he turned on his heel and prepared to head off to the knights’ training grounds, he offered up a polite wave and added, “Still… our breakfast was admittedly quite pleasant. Perhaps we shall do it again in the near future - before you leave for Lyrias, of course.”
Eyes widening, Lata gaped as Shinsu awaited a response; Lata, for his part, could barely form one. Whatever Shinsu had said about finding Lata intriguing , the latter had certainly not been expecting the man to offer to dine together ever again.
Yet Lata was, for some reason, far from opposed to the idea.
At last he met Shinsu’s eye and nodded his assent. “Yes,” he said, hand slipping into his pocket and smoothing the crystals resting there, “we shall.”
The next week or so passed by uneventfully. Lata continued his training and patrols as per usual, never diverting much from his day-to-day routine. His weekends, meanwhile, were spent in his quarters for the most part - devouring one book or another, and making slow preparations for his departure to Lyrias.
More than he was expecting, however, Lata found himself replaying his breakfast with Shinsu Jiran. He was also surprised when he realized he truly did wish to have that second meal with him. But the opportunity had not yet arisen; the two were often in different sections of the training grounds or the neighboring fortress, tending to different tasks on different schedules, and the opportunity to meet up again had yet to present itself.
Lata contemplated, in passing, various ways in which such a scenario could present itself. He could write the man a letter, have Knight Commander Koff deliver it. But the commander had never really taken a liking to Lata; he found the latter odd and unchivalrous, a poor excuse for a knight and noble. Lata did not necessarily disagree (though he would argue about his supposed lack of chivalry), but it also meant that he was in no position to ask Koff for any favours.
He wanted to know more about Shinsu. He wanted to ask him what had gone so astray in his life as to make him so disdainful for others; whether he had any pastimes that could mirror Lata’s own; what other restaurants he had in mind, if any, for where the pair of them could dine again.
But that would never happen if Lata couldn’t actually find a way to speak to the man.
He ran through his options on his stroll through Elsignia that morning, during the few hours he had before his training and patrol started up again for the week. There was a trampled path through the deep woods, a good kilometer from the marketplace’s edge, and Lata often walked along it for both the tranquility and the assortment of stones he was apt to find. He strapped a satchel around his shoulder, packed himself a canteen of water, and headed off.
The woods were usually deserted; there were insects in abundance (much to Lata’s chagrin, though the rocks made it worth his while) and the ‘trail’ as it were was littered with roots and fallen branches. But the deeper Lata walked, the more convinced he became that he was not alone this time - amidst the occasional tittling bird, a branch snapped in the wind and mumbles of voices echoed through the forest.
Lata’s suspicions were proven true when he rounded the corner and found himself maybe twenty feet away from a group of four raggedly-dressed men. Some of them wore scarves around their noses and chins, ostensibly to mask their identities, while a couple had hoods pulled up over their heads. Lata could also make out the distinctive outline of a sheath strapped to every man’s leg - they were armed . Luckily, they hadn’t noticed Lata’s presence yet; he could defend himself if he had to, sword strapped to his belt and at the ready, but he had no idea what these men were capable of or who they were.
And then something - or rather, some one - caught his eye.
Knight Commander Koff, speaking to those four men as if they were having nothing more than a pleasant conversation.
Lata wasn’t interested in people. He should mind his own business, leave and pretend he had never seen a thing. But instead, on a whim, he inched closer to the group, hiding behind the wide tree trunks, until he could overhear their conversation.
“...next time. Don’t mess around with the men Aureville’s trained; they’re ruthless,” the commander was grumbling. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
“What’s this I hear about one of the Jirans being at the knights’ circle?” one of the men asked, and Lata’s stomach turned at the sound of Shinsu’s name. What did these people want with him? “I don’t want to get involved if you’re just going to be ratting us out to those inspectors.”
“Nobody is ratting anyone out. Have I let you down before?”
“You send your men on us every damn time,” one of the others spat.
“Would it make sense if I kept them from patrol?” Koff barked back. “You guys know how it works - you get the stuff, I make sure nobody gets killed, we split the goods in the end. We’ve done it all summer, now.”
‘All summer’?
Was the knight commander …behind the latest string of thefts and attacks?
“I’m tired of nursing my wounds for petty cash,” another of the men balked. “That Aureville bastard is no joke, and with Jiran there too, I’m not taking my chances anymore.” A few of the other men mumbled their agreement. “You’re the one who said Aureville is starting to get suspicious, anyway.”
The commander kissed his teeth. “Fine. Be that way. But I say, one last run, on Seeker’s Bay, and we’ll call it.There’s a ship supposed to be docking there with a horde of nobles tomorrow night, so there’s sure to be the whole nine yards on board. We meet there at nine PM sharp. Deal?”
Slowly, the men reluctantly grunted their assent, but it was when one of the braver ones spoke up that Lata’s blood ran ice cold - and it felt like a searing pain had struck him square in the chest. “If one of the Jirans is there,” the man asked, “do we have your permission to kill him?”
And Knight Commander Koff, without missing a beat, responded, “You have my blessing . One inspector less in Clarines is all the better.”