The young Lord had been in too deep in the search of the Great Spirit's resting place. Unlike others, the Great Spirit's body wasn't performed with the old cremation tradition as a form of burial. Only, their bodies would be hidden away from the world, in hopes they could never be found again.
Whilst still searching on the map he was holding, he was suddenly rushed by anger, feeling failure nearing.
"How are we supposed to-" his complaining was disrupted by a sudden gap, hope, or maybe an opening.
"Young Lord," one of his generals questioned the glimpse of glitter in his eyes wondering if they had missed something.
"The Second Prince of the Crystal Kingdom, Tumaini," The two generals remained silent not knowing if they followed.
"What about him?" They asked still confused.
"He is the most benevolent, spending most of his time training and disciplining the recruits in his camps," he explained whilst pacing slowly in his dark lodging place.
The two generals found themselves chuckling in deep music, amazed by their royal Highnesses intelligence.
"I understand young lord, I'll take the Troops tonight," a young lad said whilst kneeling to receive the assignment.
"No," Lwazi interrupted with a disapproving look.
"I shall carry on the assignment with you," he explained further.
Of course, why did the two generals not think of that. He liked completing his missions himself, getting his hands dirty was a rest base for him. He liked to lead by example, and all those he led liked that about him.
The clouds were hanging over the sky, that night, covering most of the moon that was supposed to illuminate the dark night.
"God is on our side," The other lad had whispered when he found the clouds gathering at the stars hiding any sort of light.
An elite troop of fast soldiers had been collected over the course of the evening. They were fast, disciplined, ruthless, and killed enemies with their huge axes.
Their horses had been galloping through the mist of the night, setting to make their way to the second Prince's camps. They had been set out further away from the capital, the best place to carry out with their mission.
When they had neared the river, ready to cross the bridge, Lwazi had demanded them to come to a quick halt.
The soldiers stopped as quickly, asking the general what was wrong.
"The bridge is the most watched by the city gate guards. We shall swim to the other side." he explained.
The Warriors did not question the young Lord anymore. They got off their horses and led them to a nearby forest making sure no one would find them.
They ran their way to the river and their young Lord was the first to jump, trusting them to follow in que. Immediately, they jumped not caring about the amount of height, or if they might make it.
When they had tried to swim across, some of the elites were struggling to get across, and Lwazi had to jump back to pull them back.
After they had crossed to the other side, they had rested to catch their breaths before they stood to wait for orders from him.
"As it was planned, do not break the formations." he commanded, with a threatening voice. He hated the most those who broke a formation or ruined the plan.
In que, the women warriors went in their own formation going straight to the front gate of the camps, whilst the men went around.
The women had killed the guards as swift as wind, without a single scream being heard. Women had always been faster, the most ruthless, and just knew how to kill without breaking off a scream with their short knives.
Their built allowed them to jump as high as they could, their long nails gave them an advantage of being able to cut the wind pipe before their enemies could even react.
The Men had already held all the recruits in hostage, as Lwazi entered at the front gate after the job was done.
"Tumaini," he called out as soon as he neared the camp of the young man.
Tumaini had gotten out and was shocked to find his men in black clothing, held hostage, by men in white ones. Just then when he took a few steps down to confront his enemy, the moon suddenly came out as if on que for him to be face to face with his enemy.
His tongue was getting choked on his throat, finding it hard to speak when he found the appearance of the man holding him hostage.
High nose, rhombus eyes, dark dusty brown skin, dreadlocks in a pony tale, small golden earrings were slipped almost graciously on the men's ears. Whilst the tip of the ear had a bead earring as a signature of his title. Some of his dreadlocks were cut on the sides, as another signature of nobleness and title. An imperial descended of the great spirit, but he was from the Wolf territory. By his thick accent, and it was most visible.
But why did he look so much identical to his older brother Moti, even his air held arrogance. The only difference were his eyes, his eyes seemed so cold and distant. As if you could never know what he'd do next, and that there's nothing he wouldn't do to get where he wanted.
"Lwazi?" he questioned not knowing if it was truly him.
"Great, my reputation has made the introduction for me," he got closer, threatening him with his steps, as he neared slowly.
"Where does the Great Spirit lie?" he questioned.
"And so this is what this is?" he came to a realisation, just starting to see how absurd the Wolf prince truly was.
"and if I don't tell you?"
Lwazi smirked at this challenge, wishing to see just how far the boy would go. He didn't talk, he just raised his hand, signalling the quarter of his army to go for the killing.
Those signalled, kicked the men down, and placed one foot on top of the recruits' back, just so they could have a great display of the neck.
The recruits being held down, knowing what was to come. They cried begging his highness to save them.
However, Tumaini was too stunned to speak, and didn't realise just how ruthless his foe really was.
With a split second, Their heads had been rolling to the floor, and half of Tumaini was covered with blood.
"hence, I suggest you speak," Lwazi spoke just after the heads were being rolled to the floor.
Tumaini didn't speak, he turned from the scene, hoping the dead could forgive him.
"I hate it most when people don't take me seriously, hence, with every five words you speak, I'll burn fifty of your men if there aren't any explanations telling about the direction of your maternal grandfather's grave,"
"you have no heart," he told him, sadness clogging his throat.
"Careful what you say next, that's four words," Lwazi teased enjoying the moment. Did he like seeing him in pain? Yes. Did he enjoy hearing those words of him lacking a heart? Even more so, yes. It meant he was living up to his reputation.
"Blue Valley," Tumaini finally gave in, not wanting to see more of his men die.
Lwazi raised his hand again signalling his team to burn ten of the men in their hold.
Out of anger and shock Tumaini stood up to face Lwazi,. "stop killing my men, I told you of his remains."
Screams eradicated the place, and a smell of burning meat started to fill up the place. "That was for wasting my time when I was being reasonable," Lwazi explained as if it was the kindest thing he did to burn those men. As if he was being wronged. As if he deserved to know of the Maternal State Grandfather's grave.
Maybe he had been wronged somewhere in his childhood. Because somewhere in his life, he had been afraid of the sight of blood. He couldn't stand killing and all he would do was hope everyone beside him could be happier. Yet now, all he seemed to enjoy were those screams of the men being burnt alive.
Something in him rejoiced and he felt fulfilled. Maybe it was because the pain that had been hurried in him could finally be played out. Maybe it was because all those cynical horrific nightmares could finally come to light and everyone could bear witness.
Tumaini had angrily jumped to hold Lwazi by the neck but as fast as his actions came to light, Two of the female warriors held the young boy back, not wanting him to grab even the slightest clothing of their master.
Tumaini was in great disbelief and shock, more than he hoped to feel angry, he seemed to wish for clearance more. Who was this man in front of him with this strange familiarity as if he should know him somehow. His features of his older brother and his bearing carrying so much sadness.
Tumaini started shaking his head in sympathy before he uttered, "you're so pathetic."
That raised something within the only imperial grandchild. Fire, hate, a question at the pit of his stomach, if had would ever be as worthy, he hated that, those questions that never seemed to end. Hence he started yelling, "Kill them, kill them all!" Barking such venom as if those human lives were nothing but animals. But he had been planning to kill every men the moment he walked in those training camps. He took a firewood close by that was burning with fire, throwing it at Tumaini's tent, he went close to his ear and whispered, "how's that pathetic for you?"
"No! No!" Tumaini screamed out, rushing to the tent.
Lwazi's team had held down all the recruits and cut of their heads with the axes.
A few seconds later, Tumaini went out of his burning tent holding an eight year old boy in his arm.
Luckily he had been unscathed and Lwazi ran a quick once over to the boy finding him to look horribly familiar. Of course he was the only son of the State Uncle.
He took out the nearest axe and put it on Tumaini's head, "let this be a warning to your Queen," he uttered out, "Word by word you tell her," he leaned in slowly to whisper a few words, as if time had stopped, the interaction seemed to be recorded by the heavens.
Whilst the second prince was still in great fear and shock after hearing the message.
Lwazi had quickly taken the young boy into his arms, forcibly dragging him along. Even though the boy kicked and cried, he held him close.
The Crystal Kingdom would call it as kidnap, maybe? Curse him for taking the only direct descendent of the state Uncle. They would say he was playing with fire. But fire was all Lwazi ever played with. That's all he knew.
Because of this, some would think of him as ruthless, but yet, Tumaini remained sitting at the grass near his burning tent, with all those corpses near him. He was supposed to hate his foe, with all his heart and might, yet, all he ever felt was sympathy towards him.