Discussions - XIV

“Hello.”

“It seems you have something you want to say. Very well.” He gives a gesture of his head. “Go ahead. Make your point known. I’ve got all day, but I’d still prefer if you hurried along, all things considered.

He looks at me, smiling. As do his two guards.

“Do you know what you’ve done this evening?” I ask.

“Possibly. But I’m more than willing to hear it from your mouth.”

“You cost a man his life, Okuri.”

“How so?”

“In an effort to stall, delay, or otherwise kill me, you planted an evil thought in your guards. That they could gain an advantage by abusing my morals. So they did. And they held one of their own at knife-point, and slit their throats.”

“Hm.” He mumbles, seeming a slight uncertain. “That is unfortunate. How young was the one killed?”

“Young. Too young.”

“Well, there’s a silver lining at least. At that age, it stands to reason he might not have gotten married or produced children yet. The compensation for such a young bachelor is considerably lower, you know.”

Okuri puts on a small smile. Either an effort to wound me, or of genuine greed. Either way, I don’t look fondly on it.

I cross the room and grab him by the neck. His two companions stand, but he waves them down, causing them to sink with a concerned look.

“Such righteous power, Gamoun. The stories about you are every bit as true as I’ve heard,” he says, with a choked sound. “If only you’d protected Prince Jasi with the same amount of strength…”

“Talk, Okuri. I don’t have all day, and my patience is wearing thin. Why did you send me to Alemi? You must’ve been trying to get me off your tail. Talk.”

The wolfman laughs. A suffocating but powerful laugh. “You really know nothing, do you, Gamoun? Foolish, headstrong, hero…”

“I don’t. And I’m tired of being played the fool this evening. So, either you speak up, or—”

“Or? Or you’ll cut off a limb? Break a few bones? Come now, Gamoun, we both know what you are, and aren’t capable of.”

“Is that so?”

I eye the table on the ground. With its gold-decorated rim and expensive-looking cups atop it. With a turn of my body, I slam Okuri into the table. It crumbles under his weight, shattering at once, as pieces of it fly across the room.

“Y..you…”

I lift Okuri back up, and moving a few paces, slam him against a cabinet. The glass on it breaks, tumbling to the floor in sharp, shiny pieces. With my other free hand, I then rip a chunk of hair off him, stuffing it in my pocket.

“Start talking, Okuri. Or I’ll use your body to break every piece of furniture in your establishment. After which I’ll move on to you.”

“You… wouldn’t kill me.”

“I wouldn’t. But I can make you an example. I can break every bone in your body. I can make you a cripple. A man unfit to command this establishment, let alone the respect you so desire.”

It’s that which harms him. Which strikes the man to his core. And puts something approaching concern in his eyes.

I loosen my grip on Okuri’s neck. “So, how are we feeling now?”

“...A bit more agreeable, I must say. Very well, what is it you wish to know?”

“Are the White Hands responsible for Prince Jasi’s murder?”

“That, I cannot say—or rather, I do not know.”

“What do you know?”

“I simply housed meetings for the White Hands at my establishment. Yes…”

I hear something in his voice. Not quite a lie, but a sense that something is being omitted.

“What else, Okuri? I doubt you’d be shaking in your boots if it was just that. Are you sure they didn’t ask you for any favours? Any at all? You’re a powerful man, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ve got the ability to pull more than a few strings to let things happen…”

His expression is still worried. But the pride has returned to his eyes, even if a little.

“I did help, yes. But not with the murder itself. I never had any idea such a thing would happen. Truly.”

I release my grip on Okuri. “Go on.”

“Shall I start with the beginning? I think I will. Yes, I think that doing it from there would make a whole lot of sense as opposed to starting in the middle and filling in the spaces.”

The wolfman takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes as if in contemplation. “I knew Alemi by association. One of his companions was a frequent visitor of this establishment, and we became somewhat… acquainted.”

“Why? With the White Hands of all people?

“Hatred is a strange thing, you see. It’s not a wholly reasonable concept, after all. They hate Lagnitians because they killed their loved ones. But that doesn’t mean they can’t make exceptions, or make use of them when they arise.”

“That, and you’re not quite a Lagnitian, are you?”

He smiles. “What makes you say that?”

“Your accent. Your inability to notice the tracks you leave. The fact that you motioned to shake my hand instead of smelling me. You’ve all the tell-tale symptoms of a Lagnitian raised abroad.”

“An excellent observation. But yes, you are correct. I was born in Ineo, to merchant parents fleeing persecution in Lagnitia.”

“Persecution? Yo─”

“Yes. You must know, as a Lagnitian yourself. We’ve a hundred different tribes in a land packed and small. Some have scaled wings. Others breathe poison. And some, like myself, have white spots, and black fur.”

Okuri pulls up his sleeve. Along his arm are spots of white, resembling a spiral shape. It’s not a common trait, but not one wholly strange.

“I’m afraid this is not a trait wholly familiar to me.”

“I can’t blame you. Lagnitia is big, after all. Much too big for a lone man to see all off. Much less, remember every tribe and people in. But still, you are familiar with the Province of Allyoun?”

“That I am.” I take a moment to consider. “I have been there myself, though not during the recent war. I suppose you must have escaped during the conflict, and came here as a mere pup. Setting yourself up in the process.”

“No, actually,” he says. “My departure from Lagnitia is unrelated to war. It was a happening on a scale much smaller. Hardly grand enough to even be called a battle.”

I match Okuri’s gaze, thinking of what he means. “So,” I manage after a moment. “A pogrom then? Some manner of persecution, which forced you out by appearance alone?”

“Indeed,” he replies, as if pleased at my guesswork. “There was a prevailing belief at the time. Dubbed by historians now as the ‘Matter of the White Spots’. It was thought that those born with white spots and black fur were demons. Made of darkness. Sent by some misbegotten god whose name I don’t wish to remember, to burn the lands, and turn its people to evil.”

I don’t know Okuri’s precise case. But I know the matter he’s discussing. Yes. Very often, conflicts stem from the most superficial things. And very often, people murder each other based on it.

There are more than two hundred different tribes in Lagnitia. And it’s said that just a few hundred years ago, there were double that. Compared to Ineo, or many other countries which have a handful at best, it is a stark contrast.

“It is a shame you had to undergo such troubles, Okuri,” I say, remaining firm. “I take no issue with hearing you out, but I hope you’re not trying to curry sympathy for what you’ve done.”

Okuri pauses. “Sympathy?” He smiles coolly. “I’m not saying what I did out of a desire to curry some small affection from you. I’m just doing it because you’ve won, and I have nothing better to do.”

“That so?”

“Winners may continue the game. A loser has but to present their cards, and withdraw. That’s all I’m doing now. Withdrawing. With dignity, and good grace. Waiting for the other players to stake their claim.”

I hold my gaze. “It seems to me this is your attempt at justifying your cooperation with the White Hands.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It stands to reason you feel little love for Lagnitia, seeing what happened. So, it would justify why you find it so easy to make merry with the White Hands. Soldiers, and mercenaries who want little more than to see that country fallen.”

“Possibly. Though I can’t quite say. I suppose, at the very least, that I don’t have any issues with going against Lagnitia, or whatever my perceived homeland might be.”

That makes sense. When you’ve been subject to a perceived wrong by your country, the chances you’d act against it in the future are larger.

“Well then, Gamoun. I suppose that’s all I have to say on the matter. Now, will you be on your way, or should I expect another table to be broken?”

His voice is quick and to the point. Spoken with a degree of hurry. As if trying to get me to move on.

But I don’t.

I think about it a bit longer. There’s something about the situation that doesn’t quite add up. While it’s true Okuri might dislike Lagnitia, I can’t imagine the same applying to its people.

To my understanding, a great portion of his staff are Lagnitians. Was this the fact he was trying to get me to avoid? A topic he’d rather push through, and not draw attention to?

“Okuri.”

“Yes?”

“It seems to me you make an extended effort to hire Lagnitians. The majority of your staff, hired swords excluded, seem to be beastkin. I wonder why that is.”