Before he suddenly blurts out something he might regret, he manages to make his face take on the look of confusion. "I've not recovered most of my memories yet… so I can't even remember who leads the Third Division…"
Jenkins subtly raised an eyebrow at that remark, but kept his composure. "Is Hercule there? If he's not there, then it's Cleo."
He might've had doubts, but since this man had Erikson's personal communication talisman, whom he trusted with his back, he's either a trusted friend, or he's a big shot that needs the Seekers' protection.
***
A few minutes earlier.
Old Jenkins confirmed that this particular talisman was Erikson's, based on the peculiar hand carved lamp carving on it. He was surprised that he was still alive and kicking somewhere in this world, and had managed to hide his presence away from the other Seekers, and the human authorities.
I wonder how that owl bastard does it?
Without any further ado, he filled the talisman with his mana… and slowly a voice appeared inside his head…
"Old friend, please help that lonely soul find his way to the Third Division safely." A resolute, yet familiar voice requested. "Don't ask questions. If you're still as sharp as I remembered you being, you'd see through that guise. Also, that annoying little bugger you call your son, tell him to stop hiding and join the fight."
The message was clear.
"Tell Gen the Seekers are in dire need of his unique abilities. It's not the time to chicken out." Erikson's voice was cold as steel.
Jenkins knew what followed the sender's final words. He always hated explosions, but he had to see through it until the end.
A small shockwave blew away the bits and pieces around Jenkins, including a portion of his clothes, and his pants. The communication talisman slowly shattered into fine dust and vanished into thin air, until it was no more.
"Until I see you again, sworn brother…" The last fibers of the exploded talisman sent ripples down the old appraiser's spine. There it was, that cheeky owl with his last minute theatrics once more.
"Until I see you again, sworn brother."
***
"Oh. I don't know where Hercule currently is, but maybe he's with the bulk of them." Harambe told Jenkins what he remembered.
"One question before you go." Jenkins had to know for sure who he's helping. Guessing won't do him any favors, knowing that he's lost his touch a little bit. "Who exactly are you?"
"I am Crown Prince Harambe II of Ubwiza, son and heir of Harambe I."
"Fuck it… really?" His son almost killed the guy, what luck! Jenkins got down to his knees. He really was old and slow now! "Please forgive the misunderstanding my unfilial son had with you earlier, he's just a bonehead that does whatever he wants, and not some naturally vile person!"
Harambe couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the man. He wondered what the original Harambe would do in a situation like this.
Would he end the man right here for their transgressions? No, that's too needlessly murderous and bloodthirsty, considering this man helped him a lot.
Or would he just laugh it off, and buy everything he has for sale? Hmmm… an intriguing option, considering how brash and reckless the prince actually is.
Maybe there's another great option.
"I'll forgive every transgression…" Harambe started talking, giving hope to the shocked Jenkins. "If you answer my one question."
"Anything I can answer, my grace."
"Royal father never told me anything about this, so I wanted to know. Are the Seekers really what they say they are?"
All of a sudden, Jenkins could hear their Boss' favorite music. It was involuntary, some kind of a reflex, that he despised to the core of his being. But even in his olden years, he will not forget even a second of it until the light of his lamp finally dies out.
The old King Harambe would never want his son to hear what the Seekers actually seek.
"I refuse. You can do whatever you want with my life now." Jenkins would've answered any other question than this, but Harambe's father, the late king, one of the current generation of Seekers' biggest benefactors, wished them not to do so.
Inside, Harambe didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He just wanted an answer to one of the questions that hounded him in his two lives. He'd killed an indeterminate number of Seekers, however he had always been intrigued at how their entire system worked.
What do they actually want to do?
The Legion told him it was anarchy. That's what he believed for the longest time. The Seekers were an organization that wanted to take down the establishment, and end the negative prejudices against shifters.
What will the Seekers tell him?
A pang of regret welled up from inside him without him knowing.
"Rise." Harambe turned his back to Jenkins. "Live well, old man. I promise that your son will return safe and sound."
Jenkins believed that Harambe's son was as magnanimous as he was, but him sparing his life, made him a little emotional.
Once Gen had returned from his food hunting foray with a bunch of different street grub, he was curious to see why his old man was kneeling like that.
***
The Where throne room was a massive, grand sight. The ceiling was painted with beautiful, albeit brutal sights of warfare, and battles that shaped the country in its history. Observers would say that it was out of place in a regal place such as a throne room, but here in Lupus IX's hall, it was something he always looked up to.
On a normal day, courtiers, imperial advisers, and councilors shuttle in and out of the grandiose hall and its refreshing green wood walls.
Today, the hall was a desolate place.
Save for the King himself, whose massive, out of shape frame was sleeping on his throne, without a care in the world.
The silence was deafening inside the hall, with the country's ruler breathing in calm, rhythmic patterns.
Creak...
It was then that a courtier wearing the standard green robes, entered the royal hall and kneeled at the spot designated for kneeling.
"Your Majesty!" She kowtowed on the red carpet.
With a yawn, the Where majesty propped himself up from his silver throne. He usually doesn't care about whoever's kowtowing in front of him, because to him, every single one in the high court was a bastard.
No point in knowing someone who wants to plunge a dagger down your throat.
But, this woman seemed different, based on her voice.
"Speak."
"I… am just a lowly administrator, but I'm here… to relay you… a message…" The woman's voice was nervous, barely able to say what she was going to say correctly.
"Drop your pretenses, imposter."
"But, my liege…"
"Whatever organization you belong to, you should be fired." The king had a nasty smile. "You can't even gather intelligence properly."
He started walking down the steps of his throne, maintaining eye contact with the now exposed imposter.
"What eunuch is a female?"
"Fuck! That's why I haven't seen a female in green robes! I should've taken that seriously!" The woman blurted out her thoughts, and scratched her head. She removed the annoying headdress and threw it on the pristine flooring. "Okay, my bad, but I'm still here to take you away."
"What gives you the idea, that I, Lupus IX, would under my volition, follow whatever it is you're attempting to do?" His eyes were pure of curiosity, but his smile was that of a wild animal, about to bare its fangs.
"Nothing substantial really, let's just say I know you. I know how that head of yours works."
"Bold. I can't fault you for that." Lupus heartily laughed at the casual manner the woman spoke with him.