Naci marches down the wide corridor leading to the Western Bureau's offices, her boots tapping a brisk staccato on the polished marble. Temej trails just behind, scanning the halls with wary eyes. Lanterns flicker overhead, casting swaying patterns on the walls—shadows that mirror Naci's restless energy.
A guard steps into their path, brow furrowing. "State your business—"
Naci waves him off with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "Census records," she says curtly, grabbing Temej's elbow and pulling him around the guard before he can argue further.
They manage a few more paces when a second guard appears from a side nook, halberd raised. "Halt! Where are you—"
Naci points at Temej without missing a beat. "My cousin forgot his letter of recommendation. We're retrieving it, urgent matter." The guard, flummoxed, stammers something about regulations, but Naci breezes past him, Temej in tow, leaving the guard blinking in confusion.
A third set of guards stands before the final stretch of corridor, arms crossed over lacquered breastplates. "Who gave you clearance?" one demands, clearly suspicious.
Naci cocks an eyebrow. "We have direct orders from Eunuch Sima." The lie flows smoothly, and Temej muffles a cough of surprise. "Check your rosters if you doubt me. I'm sure Sima won't appreciate your interference."
The guards exchange uncertain glances, then step aside. Naci steps forward with a small victorious smirk, Temej struggling to keep a straight face at her rapid-fire excuses.
At last, they reach the double doors leading into Sima's domain. The Western Bureau's antechamber is oddly quiet, only a couple of junior officials hunched over scrolls, evidently clocking in late hours. The pair glance up from behind tall stacks of parchment, eyes widening at Naci's determined stride.
A young assistant leaps to his feet. "Forgive me—these offices are closed for the night. You must—"
But Naci's gaze has already landed on the second, smaller door at the far side, presumably the entrance to Sima's private office. Without hesitation, she strides over. The assistant yelps, "My lady, wait! He's indisposed—"
Naci tries the handle. Locked. She huffs, eyes flaring with annoyance. "Sima can explain that himself," she declares.
Temej opens his mouth to urge caution, but he's too late—Naci draws back and delivers a swift, powerful kick to the door. Wood cracks under the impact, and the door swings inward, revealing a small office lit by only a couple of oil lamps.
At a broad desk stacked with ledgers sits Sima—his posture half-turned away—and pressed against him is a startled young eunuch assistant. The assistant squeaks, nearly tumbling off the desk, while Sima whirls with a face that blazes red.
"By the Emperor's whiskers!" Sima sputters, eyes darting between Naci and Temej in horror. His usually immaculate robe is ruffled, and the eunuch's broad sleeves are in disarray. "H-How dare you break into my private—!"
Naci plants her hands on her hips, flicking a stray splinter from her boot. "How dare you lock a door when I need answers," she counters. "Don't blame me; blame the craftsmanship. That lock was a joke."
The young eunuch assistant clutches Sima's arm. "Master Sima... should I—?"
"Liang! Zhang!" Sima barks toward two other aides who appear from behind a tall screen, evidently trying to hide. "All of you, out, out!"
But Naci darts sideways to block their path, arms spread wide with a wry grin. "Oh, no. I'd hate to deny them this enlightening conversation. And I do have some questions of my own."
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The Winds of Tepr
Historical FictionIn the vast and volatile lands of Tepr, the Jabliu and Alinkar tribes, long-standing enemies, have forged an uneasy alliance. The price of peace? A union through matrimony between Naci, the fiery and ambitious daughter of Jabliu's chieftain, and the...