Has a thought ever grinded at your mind, slipping in and out of your conscious thought with a constant unending frequency? That
was what Mwanza had running around in his head, the thought of the Asikari had become like the air around him. He breathed it, bathed in it and he could not escape it.
Not even finally getting to see Erik again had helped, infact it just further intensified it. The two spoke and shared a laugh about what had happened with words of no hard feelings to clear the air, but as Mwanza sat looking at the blue Asikari uniform which Erik wore, he could feel a resentment that had settled into the depths of his heart peck at him like a particularly bold or rather irritating bird.
His mood was not helped in anyway by the nightmares which flooded his mind at night with things that he could never properly explain. How else was he supposed to explain having dreamt of a churning ocean of nebulas that danced in a disruptive symohony of chaos, until he came in the form of a titan with shackles of order at the eldest's command. The dream was constantly cut shot when a Lion came with a golden sun and roared in defiant challenge.
Who could he tell this to? Certainly not his parents, they would probably chain him up and never let him see the sky again. All he could do was bottle it inside even as he got closer and closer to bursting.
He grunted as he thrust his arms forwards and with a long practiced motion he raised his shovel that was filled with bones, vegetable remains, and some other things that he could not identify. The pile of garbage was directed to the open pit in the room and sent down the chute.
Mwanza again raised his shovel and stabbed the shovel into the pile of garbage like a spear in flesh. He continued the motion of shovel, lift and down the chute routine over and over again until he was like an automaton, all of his conscious thought dedicated to not the physical world but that of the mind.
"You know, every damaged piece of equipment has to be recorded." the not so amused voice of Edgar snapped him out of his hypnotic state.
Mwanza looked back to the source of the voice where the portly head chef stood with hands folded and face fixed with a scowl. Mwanza didn't understand why Edgar looked so cross with him until he took a better look at the tool in his hands which had been bent and twisted at its head.
Mwanza looked around and he saw that the garbage was cleared out of the room. He had done his job so well that judging by the multiple marks of deformed steel and chipped concrete on the floor, he had kept shoveling even when nothing was present.
"Oh..." Mwanza didn't know what to say, he slumped his shoulders in embarrassment and cursed himself.
"Something is on your mind, boy?" Edgar asked as he descended into the room and placed his hand on Mwanza's shoulder as he inquired. "Who is she and how long has she been pregnant?"
Mwanza almost choked on his own tongue; he could not believe what he had just heard. The thought of him and a woman doing... making... no, no, no, it was preposterous and also kindling of a hunger that he had not known to be there.
The creeping thought was banished by him shaking his head furiously and attempting to compose himself. He took in several deep breaths before he sent a pointed facial expression at Edgar.
"No need to get so upset." the portly man put up his arms in mock surrender. "Its just that when young men behave they way you are it usually means two things, money problems or their dalliances with a woman have ended rather poorly. You can forgive me for finding one more likely than the other in your case."
"There is more to life than money and sex." Mwanza countered.
"Maybe, but I quite assure you that many young men in your age group think otherwise."
"Most young men don't know any better." Mwanza retorted and the portly chef gave a snickering laugh in response before saying.
"And seeing as you are a young man the same applies to you."
Mwanza tightened his grip of the shovel until he began feeling the steel slowly deform underneath his palm and fingers. He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves and chase off the surge of Mwari inside him just begging for release.
"Are you just interested in talking to me in circles?" he asked Edgar in a voice lacking any sort of humor. The chef for his part did not appear bothered at all.
"It depends, will you tell what is actually bothering you? Because this garbage disposal unit can't take any more of your general misery." Edgar now walked forward and placed a comforting hand on Mwanza's shoulder. "In full honest my boy, it is just to tell anyone rather than keeping it locked inside. It can inspire you to do something stupid, if you allow it to fester inside. Trust me, I should know..."
Mwanza bit his tongue and lowered his gaze, the earnest face of Edgar was too striking for him. His heart and mind danced in a duel of choice, could he tell Edgar the truth or could he simply brush it aside with some made up excuse. It would be so easy to simply lie and yet there in lay the problem for Mwanza, it felt cowardly.
He took in a deep breath as if readying himself to unload a physical burden and to his second only friend, he spoke. "I want to see the Asikari fixed."
"Fixed?" Edgar was naturally taken aback by Mwanzas proclamation.
"I mean helped in someway." Mwanza clarified. "I saw something a few days ago and the more truth I learn about it the sick it makes me. I know that corruption is always going to exist where two or more people are gathered, but I didn't think it was that bad."
Edgar eyed Mwanza with confusion giving way to deep thought upon his old face. The man ran his hand through his greying beard for a few more minutes before he finally responded to Mwanza's question. "That's a bit of a tough question, the Asikari have separate branches and those branches are all scattered. The city one's are obviously more corrupt than their rural cousins... I am sorry my prince, but I am stumped on this one. Maybe if you had someone in the Asikari."
"Of course, thank you for your honesty." Mwanza forced a smile upon his lips.
Edgar's answer had without question solidified what had been brewing inside of him. The best way to fix the Asikari would mean having to become one, like Ishtar had become a Mushirikari.
XXXXOOOOXXXXX
As soon as he was finished with Edgar Mwanza began walking to the throne room. His mind was made up and he would not be moved from his position, even if it meant facing his mother's anger.
He was reaching the final corridor that led to the gates of the throne room when he found his way blocked by a familiar gold and scarlet armour. Mwanza tried keep a smile as he met Thia eye to eye, the elf's face remained a picture of granite stoicism.
"Goodmorning, madam Thia." he said trying to cover up his strained smile.
"Your grace." the Vortiguard responded in dull monotone voice
"I would like to see my parents." Mwanza tried to wheel around her but found his way blocked by her axe.
"You can't pass." Thia stated. "Queens orders, she said that you should be in bed."
"And what if I have something important to tell them?"
"Then you can tell em in your room whilst you rest." the Vortiguard's stance was clear, there was no way around her... at least the conventional way.
"Fine." he gave her sickly sweet smile as he stepped away. "And you could do with being a bit more sociable."
"That's not my job, your grace." Thia responded as Mwanza left her.
XXXXOOOOXXXXX
There were other ways about the palace, some more forgotten and Mwanza knew them all like the back of his hand. There was any to get him directly into the throne room but there were others to get him within the final layer of rooms and corridors to the gates of the throne room and importantly past Thia.
Rounding a corner for where the route was, he encountered two guards on patrol. Each guard carried a spear and had a sleek, obsidian black firearm strapped across his back. They were deep in conversation but instantly fell silent upon seeing him. One of them raised his right hand, palm covering half his face while the tips of his fingers touched his forehead in a crisp salute.
"Your Grace." The saluting guard said in a firm voice.
"Mvula and Banda." Mwanza replied with a genuine smile, clasping Banda's hand in a friendly greeting.
The short and stocky Fainzi presented a stark contrast to his fellow Asikari, Mvula, a lanky figure with brown skin and a face so thin it gave him the appearance of someone suffering from chronic hunger.
"How is the madam?" Mwanza asked with a mischievous grin, and Banda returned it with a knowing smile.
"As loud as ever." He replied with a wheezing laughter.
"And the other one?" Mwanza pressed.
"Driving me right up the wall! These young women have far too much energy. I swear I don't have the stamina for it anymore, these Earther girls know things you wouldn't believe." Banda responded with a hearty chuckle, which Mvula joined in on. Mwanza found the joke distasteful, and he didn't particularly care for these two guards, but he had no choice but to force a laugh alongside them. He needed these two out of the area before he slipped into the hidden passageway.
"I'm sure you do. She must have some grand plans for your birthday today," Mwanza said casually, the last part calculated to sow confusion.Banda paused, a look of genuine bewilderment spreading across his face.
"Your Grace, my birthday isn't for another four months."
Mwanza adopted an expression of faux surprise with practiced ease. "Really? My mistake. I've already ordered you four bottles of that Scarlet Bay whisky… Can't let it go to waste now, can we? I already had someone take it to your locker."
Banda's face lit up with absolute joy at the news of four free bottles of rather expensive whisky. The two guards shook his hand and Mwanza smiled for real now. He had them were he needed them. "You can go and get it from the kitchen stores, just tell Edgar that I have sent you."
He waited until their footsteps faded, then with a practiced ease, he slipped into a barely visible seam in the stone wall, a hidden passage that led deep within the palace's forgotten network. The air within was cool and damp, carrying the scent of ancient dust and a faint, earthy aroma. He moved swiftly, his steps echoing softly in the confined space, a phantom in his own home.
He navigated the twists and turns with an intimate knowledge, his fingers brushing against rough-hewn stone, a silent promise of direct access to the heart of the palace. In other areas he scaled the wall to avoid the still waters which flowed in some other sections.
The passage opened into a dimly lit antechamber, mere meters from the grand double doors of the throne room. Mwanza paused, taking a deep breath, his heart thrumming with a mixture of anticipation and determination. He was about to push open the heavy doors, to confront his parents, when the thick smell of ozone filled the room as a flash of brilliant blue lightning arced across his vision. Before he could react, a figure materialized directly in front of him, clad in the striking gold and scarlet of the Vortiguard.
"Well, well, well." Chilufya's voice was smooth, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I thought that I had smelled a thief and yet I find a prince sneaking about his own house like a rat." He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a cocky grin playing on his lips. His eyes, electric blue like his element, twinkled with mirth.
Mwanza rolled his eyes, a fond exasperation coloring his response. "Chilufya. Always a pleasure. And what brings the fastest man in Valon to lurk in dusty corridors? Did old Justinian put you on gate duty again?"
Chilufya chuckled, a low rumble. "Whst can I say, its not my fault that the old man dosent know how to have fun."
"Well, I shall leave you to your mandatory..." Mwanza tried to reach for the thronerooms gates and in the blink of an eye, Chilufya was in front of him, almost as the concept of distance did not exist to him.
"Now let's not be too hasty." Chilufya flashed him a grin than Mwanza wanted all too desperately to punch away. "I am very interested in finding out why Thia let you past her."
Mwanza could tell him the truth or a lie. The truth would mean let another know about what he considered his only advantage at home, the hidden passageway and a lie would easily be exposed and tie him a greater knot. Mwanza looked Chilufya in the face, whilst he was a Vortiguard, it made his parents man and Mwanza knew what his parents wanted above all.
" She didn't let me through, I went through her." It didn't make much sense but it was a half truth.
Chilufya clearly didn't think the same and he asked perplexed. "And how did you do that?"
"I am a clever boy." Mwanza responded with a shrug before changing the conversation. "Are my parents expecting a royal interruption?"
"They're in a rather… intense discussion, actually." Chilufya admitted, his grin softening slightly. "Something about Unar Empire and Ocean Lord ships getting a little too chummy with our borders. Sounds like it's just the right time for a prince with a fire in his belly to make an entrance. Go on, don't let me stop you. But try not to break anything, yeah? The paperwork is a nightmare." He stepped aside, a clear invitation.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Mwanza replied, a genuine warmth in his smile. "Thanks, Chilufya. You're a good man, regardless of what old Justinian might say, I think he likes you."
"And you're a good prince, even if you do sneak around like a common theif!" Chilufya called after him, a friendly laugh following Mwanza as he pushed open the massive throne room doors.
The throne room was bathed in the soft, golden light filtering through stained-glass windows.
His parents, Mwami Undi and Queen Natasha, stood before a largemap of Valon composed of sand. The map was moved and shifted by invisible hands that reflected what his parents spoke about. Their faces were etched with concern. Justinian, ever the silent sentinel, stood nearby and his the first to catch a glimpse of Mwanza and yet he remained silent.
"....and their ships are practically dancing on our coastal waters!" his mother was saying, her voice laced with frustration. "The Ocean Lords claim it's a pursuit, the Unar Empire calls it a strategic maneuver. It's a provocation, is what it is!"
"They test our resolve, Natasha," his father responded, his voice a deep rumble that echoed in the vast chamber. "But to have them so close… this is unprecedented. It hints at a larger coordination. They are not working together, however someone on the inside is going through a lot of trouble to help them."
"No need to beat around the bush, Asthor isn't exact hiding it." his mother countered.
Mwanza stepped fully into the room, drawing their attention. "Mother, Father."
His mother's eyes widened slightly in surprise, quickly followed by a look that was a mix of exasperation and relief. "Mwanza! What are you doing here? You should be resting."
"I couldn't rest, Mother," Mwanza stated, walking towards them with purpose. "Not with what's happening. I overheard… the ships. This is exactly why I need to join the Asikari."
His father sighed, running a hand through his beard. "Son, we've discussed this. It is too dangerous for you to gallivanting about."
"And if it is really becoming that dangerous then I shouldn't be in the capital." Mwanza countered, his voice steady, his conviction clear. " Besides I've seen the rot, the weakness within the ranks. I want to be part of the solution, to fix it from the inside."
His mother stepped closer, her golden eyes earnest. "Mwanza please, we don't have time for this."
"Will you both actually listen to me for once!" Mwanza snapped a little louder and angrier than he had intended, stanning them both. "I am not getting younger mother I need to do something with my life before I end myself in this parody of existence. We can both get what we want, me finally doing something and safe from the capital and all the other things that you would never tell me."
A long silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft hum of the shifting sand. His parents exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, his father nodded slowly. "Lets say we do that, how can you be safe if everyone knows that you are with the Asikari?"
"Who said that they need to know." Mwanza grinned. "No one here in the capital, not even the Mushirikari knew that Ishtar was training with them as a recruit."
The two mornachs looked at one another as their patented silent conversations followed, the type in which a single facial expression said a thousand words and Mwanza could decipher none. He could only pray that what he wanted happened.