War of Elysium

Chapter Ten: The Traitor.

        The tent flap whipped gently in the wind. The warden of the East paced around his strategy table. He was alone, vulnerable. A bombing raid had rubbled a section of the perimeter wall and his personal guard had to be sent to reinforce it. The explosions hadn't let up, though they came from rifles and grenades rather than artillery. He must have assumed them to be a distraction tactic while the Alliance prepares an assault on the breach. 

The tent was almost silent within, the quiet hum of an old style radio and the mumbled voices within it echoed from the wooden pillars holding the dirty roof. 

A shadow grew from the door, though Hosun didn't notice. He buried himself in plans and maps as explosions rained in the distance. His ornate uniform, more fit for a ballroom than battlefield, had creased down the middle as he slumped down. The only part of his garments that betrayed the clean white - military - style was his gloves. Kevlar knuckles, the index and middle fingers manually cut out. Dirty and frayed from a long life of war. They ill fitted him, his hands much to large to fit within them. Though, kevlar hadn't been used since his youth; it seemed possible that he had once worn them as a much younger man, a much slimmer man. 

"You've gotten fat." A dark voice whispered from within the tent. Hosun's head jolted, his eyes scoured the dim room for whoever dared insult him.
"Gardener?" He called, knowing full well that Jack Gardener had left the field of battle. The accent was right, though. A man from the undercity?
"Who's there?" He called out again. He rose from his chair but didn't shout. A part of him had accepted what would come next, he wouldn't resist. There wouldn't be any point. "Boy?" He whispered, his voice indignant. "Step out." He ordered.

"Where is Akemi?" The dark voice demanded from nowhere. 

"Look me in the eyes, boy. Have respect." 

"Respect?" The voice spat. 

From the corner of his eye, Hosun spotted a lively shadow. It danced back and forth, cast by a candle. He hadn't lit any candles? He turned to look for the source of light but was met with a figure in the darkness. Not quite a face atop not quite a body. It was barely discernible from black that surrounded it, aside from two beady eyes looking deep within Hosun's own.

"Where. Is. Akemi?" He repeated. His voice came from all directions, it dripped with vitriol and malice. The urge to call for help built within Hosun but what would be the point? The boy had been trained by Akemi, he had probably poisoned Hosun hours ago. His guards were probably already dead, his camp in shambles. 

He straightened up and clumsily twisted the little lamps power valve. A new light flooded the room and the long shadows grew slim. What would have been a face was now empty air. His hand shook and unconsciously edged closer to his holstered pistol. Reality caught his nerve and he cupped both of his hands behind his back as he stood proud, ignoring the bead of cold sweat crawling across his brow. He blinked it away once it reached his grim eyes and, with a quick scan of the room, he readied to speak.

"I will not converse at a disadvantage, boy. All will be told once you stop cowering in the shadows." 

A creak behind him caught his ear and he swiftly span on his heel. The motion blurred his vision for but a moment, after which the boy was revealed. As tall as Hosun though much slimmer; his face covered entirely in matte black paint. In the pale brown light of the flickering lamp, all of his features blurred together into one. He was inches away and yet Hosun doubted he would recognise the man should they meet again in the daylight. A glint of light marked the boys threat, a blade - held close to Hosun's belly. Much longer than any blade Akemi would have taught him to carry. It seemed, in the darkness, inscribed with strange runes. He didn't take Reese for a superstitious man, nor the kind of man to carry such an impractical weapon.