The Purging

Coalition of the not so Willing

CHAPTER 12

Finally recuperated after his painful ordeal in Kenya, Jean Charles is summoned to Bashina's throne room. The visit promises to be entirely unpleasant. His empress does not take too kindly to being defied, and his antics in Nairobi were anything but obedient. Echoes of her infuriated growls can be heard in all corners of the palace. Striding up to the throne room doors, he runs across Bashina's youngest son, Sanjit. Less than pleased to see Jean still breathing, Sanjit steps in his way, “I see sleeping beauty has decided to rise from her slumber and rejoin the fun. Shall I tell mother you're here or would you prefer to run headlong into the door howling at the top of your lungs?” As charming as ever, Jean thinks to himself. If the situation were different he'd teach the spoiled brat some manners but he could ill afford to further aggravate his benefactor:

“Spare me your petty antics Sanjit and open the doors. I have important things to discuss with your mother.”

The young tiger crosses his arms and goes on the offensive, “Oh yes, things to discuss like your knack for screwing up a simple job? Or maybe how you managed to get every single member of mother's personal guard killed in a single day? Those would both be excellent topics of conversation. I had friends on that squad wolf, several in fact. If you could keep you head straight in a crisis everything would be different.” The little rat was right for once. Waves of guilt assaulted Jean's senses. His fists clench so tightly that his palms trickle blood. It takes all the self control he has not to kill the boy for bringing it up.

“I was their commander. I feel their loss more than anyone else. I don't need you to remind me it was my fault. If you think you can do better as field commander, then feel free to replace me. I'll take over for you as the palace bellboy. Now quit wasting my time and open the door.” Sanjit steps forward so he is face to face with Jean.

“No. Mother is talking to a representative from the eastern block of night kin right now. She doesn't want you in there until they're done negotiating terms of an alliance. So you can just sit down and wait for your turn.” The hairs on the back of Jean's neck rise at the thought of a muck leech in the empress' chambers. A sniff at the door yields a profoundly unfortunate fact. He knows the vampire envoy, and he does not have fond memories of her. Sanjit smiles and lets out a self satisfied titter.

“That's right wolf. Your personal favourite vampire is here. Try not to froth at the mouth while you wait, alright?” Pacing furiously for what seems like hours, he replays the events from Nairobi in his mind. He can't decide if it was a failure of strategy or entirely his own lack of poise. How was it that Ahmu was able to so effectively direct the movements of the mongrels? They should have simply run wild and attacked anything that moved, but they were calculated and coordinated. There was a strategy to what they did, a method to their madness. Mongrels hadn't had focus like that since he was in command. Ahmu must have found some new, powerful alphas to use as proxies.

“Alright, they’re ready for you. Behave yourself dog.” A dozen cats some streaming from behind the opening doors, hissing and swatting at Jean’s feet. The sweet aromas of white plum blossoms and cinnamon hang in the air. Hand woven Persian rugs are spread out across the marble floors, and golden idols in a multitude of animals shapes are arranged about the room. Bashina and her visitor stand in front of a gigantic golden throne.

Natsuko Masamura is exactly as he remembers her from a century ago. Long black hair, tied into one tightly wound braid ending just above the waist. Still donning the same dark overcoat with armour plating woven into the shoulders, chest bearing the insignia of her father’s clan. The scent of her perfume hits him again. White plums. Why would such a bitter person surround herself with such a sweet smell?

The twin katana strapped up across her back send shivers down Jean’s spine. Just looking at the blades brings back unpleasant memories. He makes sure to stand a few feet outside the effective reach of her swing. Natsuko turns about to greet him, “Ah, Fido. There you are. Mommy dearest was just regaling me with tales of your exploits in Africa. Sounds an awful lot like what happened when you and your mongrels tried to invade my territory. A whole lot of growling and jumping up and down, but absolutely no forethought.” He would dearly love to make her pay for the comment, that would only result in Bashina tearing him in half. Jean would have to wait for another venue to maul the fanged bitch. Biting down on his lip, he remains polite.