REALMS OF DISCORD

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He sat in a dimly lit room, his left hand running through his thick white dreadlocks that were tied in a low ponytail. With his right hand, he held a short glass of chnag'aa on ice, the neon green lights casting an ethereal glow on the dark floor. Absentmindedly, he scratched his head, toying with a lock of hair that fell to the side of his face. He sighed, leaning back into his black leather chair and taking a sip of his drink. His gaze traced the ceiling marks caused by a leaky roof, reminding himself to have it fixed someday, once again.

His gaze shifted to his right, where a picture of two smiling boys captured his attention. Their toothy grins were infectious, and they were dressed in worn-out dungaree shorts with bare feet. The red soil caked on their feet up to their knees was a true mark of an ironblood. One of the boys was leaner and taller, holding a long stick in his hand, while the shorter one had his hands resting on his lap. He chuckled at the memory of how Otich would get upset when people pointed out that Abua, despite being younger, was taller. He ran his hand over his face before taking another sip of his chnag'aa.

"Where are you, Otich?" he muttered, his upper body slumping onto the desk, burying his face in his hands.

The door swung open, interrupting his thoughts, though he didn't lift his head. "You better have a good reason for barging in without knocking," he calmly addressed the familiar presence before him.

A newspaper was dropped in front of him, prompting him to sit up again, his eyes immediately drawn to what Oche, his right-hand man, couldn't wait to share. The cover featured a story about Sato's coronation, but Oche pointed to the sub-headline at the bottom left of the paper.

"SOME OF THE REFUGEES WHO LEFT KRINGA ARE NOW COMING BACK AFTER THE EMPEROR'S TALKS."

"What am I supposed to do with that?" he asked, bringing the paper closer to his face as if reading from a distance was difficult.

The door opened wider, and a middle-aged man entered. His beard and head were mostly white, with a few stubborn black strands clinging to his scalp. The signs of age were visible on his neck, and his hands, wrinkled but still showing the veins and scars of his youth. He carried a cane in his right hand, the handle fashioned into the head of a cobra, adorned with black crystals. The cane itself was wrapped in golden stripes around the dark wood, matching the small, barely visible stud he wore. Behind him stood two imposing men, their dark skin reminiscent of coal, and their eyes as cold as the depths of the ocean. They wore dark brown leather vests that showcased their muscular frames and scars, which they wore proudly, paired with black pants. Their shaved heads glistened like their bulging muscles. One carried a quiver and a bow and arrow, with seme hanging from both sides, while the other had wrist knives tucked into sheaths and a spiked rungu hanging from his left side. The two men stood behind the averagely tall middle-aged man, giving them an almost giant-like presence.

Abua remained unfazed, sitting back in his seat as he addressed the newcomer. "Uchao, son of the blowing wind, what can I do for you?"

The man took his seat opposite Abua, with his two men positioned directly behind him. He picked up the newspaper and brought it closer to his face. "I can see that Sato, the golden blood, has finally

been crowned emperor," he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of significance.

"We all knew it was only a matter of time. Bato has been missing for twenty years now," Abua remarked, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and concern. He gestured for Oche to pour Uchao a drink. "I'm surprised they waited this long to finally name her the emperor." Oche positioned himself behind Abua, discreetly keeping his hand on his weapon.

"Now, tell me, Uchao, why are you here?" Abua leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"I believe you've seen that the refugees who left here fifteen years ago are coming back," Uchao pointed at the headline featuring Abua.