The rest of the trip to the Salaqa Manor was quiet and uneventful. No more assassins attacked the carriage, but that was always the case for about two or three days after Zora repelled one—when there was one assassin, there were usually more lurking around, and they could all see how pointless it was trying to get the jump on him—so he wasn’t really complaining. He had more time to enjoy the cushion on his back.

  Eventually, the driver yanked on the reins outside and pulled the carriage to a halt. The door he’d destroyed to his left was still letting in cool evening winds. Outside, an estate spread wide—without waiting for Kita to invite him off, he cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and climbed out of the carriage himself.

  He heard the faint rustle of carefully tended gardens. Leaves brushing softly in the wind. The trickle of water from multiple fountains around him. The open courtyard before the Salaqa Manor was quiet, but not lifeless. Guards shifted in their places, ant chitin armour clinking faintly as they patrolled the garden. The gargantuan Manor itself loomed right ahead, giant columns framing the entrance with carvings of giant bugs biting and tearing into each other. The roof was layered, the edges bristling with what he felt were probably spikes or decorative teeth, giving the building a jagged silhouette. Behind the double front door where two servants stood in waiting, he heard even more servants at work—feet shuffling quickly and hands setting dishes or tools into place.

  They were all putting up a nonchalant front, but they probably had no idea just how sharp his hearing was. The guards may be stoic, not showing any worry; the servants betrayed their efforts by frantically working inside the manor.

  “... A dragonfly’s shimmer is lost on closed lids, hm?” he mused, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood by the carriage, waiting for Kita to climb out.

  Kita simply gave him a puzzled look in response.

  “What did you say?”

  “A dragonfly’s shimmer is lost on closed lids—”

  “No, I heard you the first time. What does that mean?”

  He twitched an eye, putting up a fake smile. “It means if I could see, I’m sure I’d find the colours in the courtyard quite pretty.”

  Kita blinked pointedly. “I… yeah. Father likes our courtyard in perpetual autumn colours, so our gardens and hedges are all brimming amber and gold. Why not just say that, though?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The Attini Empire is particularly insular when it comes to the culture of the rest of the world. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone here who understands sayings and expressions like that.”

  “But that wasn’t a… oh, nevermind.”

  He waved the topic away, sighing in disappointment. His bug-related adages were mostly needlessly complicated, anyways—he’d only started saying them to get his kids in Amadeus Academy active and engaged in his classes—so it stood to reason a seventeen-year-old would only find them tedious and irritating.

  As Kita bowed and waved the driver away, he craned his ears and found the bustle of the city rather far away—unlike most Regional Lord households, the Salaqa Manor was at the very edge of the city. It had to be quite inconvenient for those living here to have to take a carriage out every time they wanted to grab a quick bite, but… if they had forty servants and just as many guards running around every hour of the day, he supposed they could make do with never having to leave apart from official, important noble duties.

  A small army of servants trudged down the short flight of stairs to meet them by the carriage roundabout, their dresses and tunics plain but neat, their chest brooches marked with the Salaqa Lord’s crest. Most of them had ant mutations to boot: chitin-covered arms, short antennae hardened like horns, and black compound eyes that bulged slightly out of their sockets. The head servant leading the group, though, was a pure human. Zora tilted his head and scanned the young lady up and down. Her embroidered shoulder wrap and capelet showed she was probably of a much higher rank than the rest of the servants, but she couldn’t be much older than Kita herself.

  he thought, staying behind Kita as the two ladies exchanged curt bows. He would’ve cracked his neck in irritation again if every single servant started paying their respects to Kita and wasted his time, but to his surprise, the head servant suddenly opened her arms as though inviting Kita in for a hug.

  For her part, Kita practically dashed into the servant’s arms and hugged tightly back.

  “I heard you encountered a bit of trouble on the way here?” the head servant asked, a worried smile creeping onto her face as she pulled away. “Would you like the assassin captured and interrogated? I have a small regiment of forces ready to move at your command. Give the word, and blood shall flow—”

  Kita shook her head vehemently, casting a glance back at him.“It’s fine. Our guest does not wish for blood on this merry night.”

  “... Is that so?”

  Then the head servant stepped aside, clasped her hands before her, and bowed at him. The rest of the servants followed suit.

  “I am Machi, Steward of the Salaqa Hearth. It is a great honour to be able to meet the Warlord of the Northeast,” the head servant said, pulling herself upright with a cordial smile. He shrugged casually. He’d give her points for pretending to like him when she very clearly didn’t. “It is good to see you both in good health. However, you have both arrived earlier than expected, so the preparations for dinner are still underway. Would you like to freshen yourselves up first and change into more comfortable attire?”

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  Kita rubbed her jaw as she stepped past the corridor of servants, heading straight for the open double doors with her hand on the hilt of her blades. “I will take you up on that offer, Machi. And about the guest room for the Warlord—”

  “It has already been prepared.” Machi stared straight at him, cocking her head slightly. “Please follow me, Warlord of the Northeast. I will show you to your room.”

  “Sure,” he said, walking past her as he looked each servant over briefly. “As long as I am here, though, I have one request to make of all of you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Call me the Warlord of the Northeast one more time, and I will show you the Warlord by destroying this manor.”

  The heartbeats of all but one servant quickened. Machi’s face remained cool and steady as ever, so he knew she knew: it was a hollow threat, barely even a warning. He wasn’t going to destroy the manor no matter what, but he wanted most everyone to think he would.

  He entered the manor with Machi abreast, his head swivelling around. The walls of the foyer were solid and smooth, carved from volcanic stone, with deep reliefs of ants and soldiers clashing in swirly patterns. Columns rose toward the ceiling supported by wooden beams. A giant woven tapestry on the wall above the doorway depicted a happy family of four, but Machi didn’t waste his time standing around. She led him up the stairs by the side of the foyer immediately, the sound of everyone’s sandals on the smooth floor mapping the grandiose space for him—he could hear plates clinking and stoves burning just beyond the door at the end of the foyer, but he’d enter the dining room later.

  For now, Machi led him to his guest room on the second floor. A low, wide bed stood in the centre, its frame of dark wood even more patterned than the walls of the foyer. More scenery tapestries that dampened sound hung around the room, and no doubt they were there to prevent him from listening too deeply. A simple writing desk and chair sat near the window, the faint rustle of leaves outside hinting at the garden below. It wasn’t regal as some of the rooms he’d been given by other Regional Lords, but it was welcoming and only slightly restrained.

  He couldn’t help but smile softly. This was the Salaqa Lord making his first impression, too.

  “This wall,” Machi said, voice measured as she stepped into the room after him, gesturing to the wall on the left made out of alcoved bookshelves, “contains the Salaqa Lord’s personal selection of books for esteemed guests. Histories, philosophies, battle records, all preserved for those with an appreciation of knowledge.” Her nails lightly trace the shelves, the polished wood humming faintly as she eventually reached and sat upon the desk. “Your writing desk, should you wish to send correspondence. The view overlooks the eastern garden, though I understand you may not require it. The bathing chamber at the back has cold water running all day long, but warm water can be brought upon request, and regarding your change of attire—”

  “No need for that. I’m plenty comfortable in my cloak.”

  Machi scrunched her nose, nails tapping the desk she was sitting on. “It is indispensable you present yourself before the Regional Lord. With thirty minutes until dinner, I would suggest a quick bath and then a change into the household robes—”

  “I’ll have the bath, but my attire is hardly dirty. Though the windows aren’t open, isn’t it quite windy in here?”

  The spell rippled out, his physical sound waves shoving off all the dust, ash, and blood flakes from his cloak. As Machi flinched and braced her face with her arms, he whispered “cinders”

  Humming, he ran his fingers through his hair and tried to feel for any dirt and soot still left behind. There weren’t any. He’d still have to wash off his sweat and grime in the bath, but now Machi was staring at him looking quite anxious.

  And was a more fitting reaction.

  “... I am no emissary of any faction, but a simple man on a mission,” he murmured, straightening the collar on his cloak as he stepped towards the bookshelves, fingers tracing the embroidered titles on the spines. “I know what you’re trying to do by getting me to wear your household robes, so I will make this clear: I will wear no crest of any noble household as long as I am alive. We may work together, and we may share the same roof, but to believe I am under the Salaqa Household would be nothing but a failure of indistinction.” Then his fingers paused over a particularly interesting book; the embroidered words stuck out to him. “I am the Thousand Tongue, and I serve no lord. Force me to bear your crest, and I do what I promised I’d do.”

  He wasn’t lying this time, and Machi’s heartbeat became deathly still—so much so he worried, for a second, if he might’ve pressed the poor girl a little too hard—but then she let out a soft chuckle, plucking a small brooch from the drawer she was sitting right next to.

  “I am glad we are both wary of each other, then,” she said, tossing the brooch at him. He caught it without looking, and the shape of the brooch felt more than familiar in his palm. “I shall be honest with you: I think my lady and the Salaqa Lord are making a mistake by establishing contact with you. You are a known and wanted enemy of the empire. Just housing you here is sure to bring scrying eyes upon my lady, and that is the last thing I wish for her.”

  He twirled the brooch in his hand, smiling wryly. “So this thing…”

  “Is something I had custom-made for you,” she said plainly, shaking her head slowly as she headed for the door. “My lady and the Salaqa Lord may think otherwise, but I do not want you bearing the household crest. Should you attract too much attention to yourself, we need to be able to cut you off quickly and make it clear to the Capital we have no relation to you whatsoever—so do put on our robes, and do wear our brooches. Wear that one instead.”

  “And how does a mere servant know this is something I want to wear?”

  Machi stopped. “I do not know. It was my lady who told me to go with that design.”

  “Oh?”

  “She has been utterly infatuated with you for the past two years. Half those books, journals, and records on that wall are related to you, Amadeus Academy, and the three-night infestation that ended with the death of an Insect god,” she said, glancing around briefly as she put her hand on the doorknob. “My lady designed that brooch herself, so I do hope you will accept her gift with great appreciation for her efforts.”

  He twirled the five-pointed star-shaped brooch in his hand for only a second longer—the symbol of Amadeus Academy—before pinning it onto his right sleeve, grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “It will be my pleasure.”

  “Then please enjoy yourself in your room,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I will return to bring you and my lady down for dinner in thirty minutes.”

  With that, the head servant left him alone, and he kept his finger on the spine of the book for only a moment longer before plucking it from the shelf.

  He couldn’t very well read any books, being blind and all, but he could feel the words spelling ‘Incendiary Incident’ on the spine—and now that he had time to think, he remembered clearly where he’d heard the Salaqa Household name before.

  Sound Bug Facts #48: In some species of carpenter ants, specific workers stay close to the queen, feeding her, grooming her, and removing waste. These ants ensure that the queen is clean and well-nourished so she can focus on laying eggs, kinda like her personal maids!

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