Tama Foyrilmang

  “What zhe puck!” Tama screamed as she tore apart Lord Vor’s office. One by one, she pulled down portraits depicting generations of the Vor family line and shredded them with her bare hands. Starting at the faces, then the bodies, then removing every strip of canvas possible and snapping the frames into pieces.

  It had been four days since Lovu Yelma had escaped. Her soldiers – at least, the ones she had left – had spent every waking hour combing the mountains around Kamvor. By the end of the first day, they knew they had lost him and the Scar who helped him escape, but Tama refused to let up. At the end of the second day, they found traces of a campsite just outside of the city, but it was long abandoned and there were no tracks leading away from it. She even sent Honors out to canvas the nearby villages for any information, but if anyone had seen them, they were intent on staying silent.

  The sun had nearly set and time was running out.

  Emperor Gongphaha had issued an imperial decree that she be informed immediately when either Akil Vor or Lovu Yelma were apprehended. As soon as Tama had Lovu inside of the estate, she sent a messenger back to Lavote. On the Highway, it took three days of travelling at a normal pace to make that trip, but she ordered the messenger to ride full speed through the night until their mount gave out, then buy as many fresh mounts as necessary along the way to avoid stopping. They should have been able to make the trip within a day and night like that, which meant that she’d be receiving an answer soon. With all hope, she’d simply receive a messenger in response, but the twisting sickness in her stomach told her she would never be that lucky.

  “My Lord,” a shaky voice said from the door to the office, snapping her out of her rage. Like flipping a switch, Tama straightened out her hair and clothes before opening the door to look the “Honor” there in the face. Despite her silver armor, she was only a Scar from Foyrilmang that Tama had recruited for the attack on Lavote.

  “What is it?” she said as evenly as possible, but even that made the Scar flinch away.

  “We just received word that the Emperor has entered Kamvor. Her convoy will arrive at the old-city gates at any moment.”

  “Thank you for informing me,” Tama said calmly, but her heart was pounding too loud to hear her own voice. “I will greet her at the estate’s entrance.”

  Hurrying outside, she gathered her most trusted guards. They stood in front of the huge gates at the top of the stairs connecting the estate’s walled compound to the old-city below as a signal announced that a cart was hooked up to the winch and was ready to be pulled up. Wood creaked and gears turned as the servants she brought with her hoisted it up.

  It was agonizingly slow and with every strained sound echoing against the towering walls surrounding them, Tama winced at the discomfort in her mouth. As a child, she had developed an unfortunate habit of grinding her teeth under stress. While the Advocates in Lavote had set her jaw and salvaged what teeth they could, they couldn’t restore the teeth that had fallen out. Now, the uneven gaps in her mouth stung with every movement as she ground her still-healing gums raw once again.

  The creaking stopped and the footsteps of people dismounting rang out on the other side of the gate. On her signal, the guards pulled it open to reveal a group of about thirty people. Although they all looked like competent soldiers, none wore Honor armor. Instead, they carried banners displaying a war hammer over a blazing sun – the mark of Phakfi. The only difference from the emblem originally created by Emperor Awiye were the bundles of viwa on either side of the hammer.

  At the head of the group, standing expectantly in front of the carriage she was meant to be riding in, was Emperor Gongphaha.

  Tama met her briefly in Lavote before the insurrection. At the time, she moved hunched under cloak and hood, hiding her body from prying eyes. Now, she stood straight in open light, draped in delicate clothes and adorned in golden jewelry that subtly distracted from her most notable feature – her size.

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  Emperor Gongphaha stood well over six feet tall, larger than any of the warriors who attended her. Her body was full and stout, a wall of meat cultivated not through laziness or inaction, but through brutal training. The robes she wore had a low neckline and she wore sparse necklaces, all drawing attention to the jagged scar running across the length of her neck. Among the “civilized” warlords of Kiwokiti that escorted her, she appeared less like a leader and more like a wild beast, barely held back by its handlers.

  “Your majeshty,” Tama said, as she bowed as deeply as possible, sweat beading on her brow as the Emperor approached. “I hope your-”

  “Where is he?” the Emperor cut her off, a surprisingly gentle voice betraying her appearance. But no matter how softly she spoke, the words slammed into Tama like waves threatening to drown her.

  “I am… berry shorry to report that Lobu Yelma eshcaped our-” again she was interrupted, this time by a hand closing around her throat. The Emperor lifted her up onto tiptoes with one hand, forcing her face upward until their met eyes.

  “You informed me that you had him securely in your possession. Did you lie to me?”

  All that came in response was the sputtering of Tama struggling for breath. Her teeth gnashed, opening new wounds and flooding her mouth with blood that flowed out and down her chin.

  “I should kill you for wasting my time,” she said, the grip tightening further. Tama felt her life flashing before her eyes as she tore at the meaty claw holding her up, but it yielded no ground.

  Her family had always struggled. Despite being Lords, Foyrilmang was barely even worth considering a fiefdom. It was swampy marshland with a smattering of fishing villages spread across it and nothing else of note. According to her father, it hadn’t always been that way. The swamp that her family now controlled had once been split between five separate Lords – each holding a small piece of it while also controlling more fertile and bountiful lands beyond. Back then, the title of Voice was still passed between houses, settling on whoever was most worthy to lead Hangkiti.

  However, 250 years ago, Vungyo Yelma became Voice and claimed the title for her family alone. Once she did, she redistributed the other Lords’ territory, giving those who she favored their pick. Tama’s ancestors had opposed Voice Vungyo’s claim to the title while their neighbors bowed to her rule. Over the course of a generation, her and her successor slowly stripped Foyrilmang of everything they had. Even the ancestral seat of her family – Lifoyril – now rested in Lord Fingtu’s territory instead of their own. They had spent the last 200 years living in squalor, barely able to care for their citizens, let alone afford the luxuries befitting them as Lords.

  Her father had tried everything under the sun to stabilize their house, including marrying her into Lord Fingtu’s family to reunite their lands. It would have meant all but giving up their seat in the Lords’ Council, but they were willing to do it if it meant saving their people. But then her father died and the Voice stopped the marriage, denying her the ability to even end her family line in dignity. Voice Engteng would sooner see them slowly waste away than have an honorable death.

  So, she had thrown herself in with Kiwokiti. Every Lord was forced to learn the history of Phakfi and the threat they once posed to the world. She knew the risks involved, but how could she sit there and do nothing. Best case scenario, her family would be the founding members of a new golden age. Worst case scenario… well, she’d end up choked to death by her new Emperor.

  This failure is mine and mine alone. At least remember what I did and treat my people fairly…

  No amount of struggling would break the grip, so Tama resigned herself. Her hands fell to her side and she looked Emperor Gongphaha dead in the eyes, hoping that she would hear her final plea.

  “You are lucky I am merciful.” Just as quickly as her throat had closed, Tama dropped to the ground, hoarsely sucking air into her starved lungs. Without paying any more attention to Tama, the Emperor turned to the closest Honor escorting her. “You. Relay all information you have on Lovu Yelma’s current whereabouts to my advisor. Rebel forces are gathering in Ngop lands and threatening to march on Lavote. We cannot waste any more time here.”

  Without another word, she turned and walked back to her carriage while her attendants exchanged details with the Honor. Before the Emperor reached the gate, Tama forced herself back to her feet, still coughing for air.

  “I. Won’t. Fail. You,” she choked out between ragged breaths. The Emperor turned just long enough to meet her gaze and offered a nod in return before stepping back up into the carriage.

  As she watched the doors close between them, a wicked grin spread across Tama’s face. The Emperor had already granted her a second chance at life when she declared her intent to overthrow Hangkiti. This third chance was a luxury she didn’t intend to waste.

  Akil… I don’t know what the fuck you did, but I am going to enjoy feeding you and your little twink to her whole.