I Am The Truth II

Chapter XII: Populists of Benghorn

"Maxwell," The customs officer repeated. "There are a handful of Maxwells in Cydonia. Be more specific."

"Maxwell Zelazna Kura," Borgen said. "I uh... haven't heard from him in a while."

"Hmm," The customs officer only said.

The two of them were in the holding cell. At least he hadn't been handcuffed, but honestly, there wasn't much to be happy about right now. Malakai would have his head if he failed.

"Why don't we call your friend then?" The man began. "You two can have whatever conversation you want, and then you'll be sent back to K' Arthen."

"Oh," Borgen stammered.

"You know the policy around here," The officer stated. "We don't let Magnorites inside our borders, unless one of our citizens has a relation to you. That's just how things are, and for a good reason too."

"What if he bails me out?" Borgen asked.

"Then perhaps you will be allowed inside," The officer answered.

His eyes were narrowed however, making it clear that it was unlikely given Borgen's West K' Arthen accent and the fact that he didn't have a proper job history.

"Maxwell Zelazna Kura," The officer repeated to himself, exiting the room. "I'll have him in a day's time."

"Thank you sir."

Borgen watched the door close and then stared at the floor. What would happen if Maxwell didn't want to talk? The officer was keen on getting him booted out fast.

"Doesn't matter if you make it into Cydonia," Someone in the cell next to him suddenly stated. "Too many humans. They'll kick your ugly ass out in no time."

"Not if I kick theirs first," Borgen replied in his agitation.

There were stone walls between the cells, but Borgen was straining to look out of the bars of the cell door. He couldn't see too far down any of the corridors, but he could hear the customs officers talking to various travelers and others who failed the identification requirements.

He slumped against the bars of the door, unsure what more to do.

Nearly a day later, a sudden bang on metal issued behind him, followed by the door swinging open. A different customs officer returned, followed by another man. Right away, Borgen was taken aback.

"This is the one," The customs officer said, gesturing at the Magnorite. "Claims you are an acquaintance of his."

"I know," Maxwell replied. "I got the call yesterday, and I thought I'd see for myself."

Borgen was still agape. This man was wearing a suit, with polished shoes and a fountain pen in his coat pocket. Malaki wanted money from this guy?

"... Maxwell? I was expecting a call, not a personal visit."

"M. Z. Kura," Maxwell replied. "As I am formally known. But Maxwell is fine."

The customs officer left after making sure Borgen was firmly bound so that he could not lash out. Maxwell grabbed the only chair in the cell and placed it directly in front of Borgen before sitting down. All was silent for a few moments before Maxwell gestured with his hands.

"Well?"

"What are you, a corporate tycoon?" Borgen demanded finally. "You look like someone from Crown Peak."

"Don't worry, I don't have anything to do with the Crown Peak elites," Maxwell replied. "I found that oil is in high demand down south, and I struck it rich. Good thing I left West K' Arthen."