Chapter 122
Their voices were not loud, not enough to draw the attention of the Holy Beings in the distance.
But they were clear enough to be heard by all the soldiers standing guard around them.
They conveyed the same reason, word for word, with the same tone, like a choir that had been perfectly trained.
That there was urgent news, news that could not wait, news that had to be delivered directly to the ears of the High Satanist Officials who were currently gathered under the Banner of Zhulumat.
Not to the captains, not to the ordinary soldiers, but directly to the highest officials who were sitting in a meeting with Zhulumat Katamtum.
They did not mention what the news contained, nor did they provide the slightest hint to satisfy the soldiers' curiosity.
They only repeatedly emphasized that this was a matter concerning interests far greater than mere border security procedures.
"The map seemed to be a form of compensation, a kind of ticket that would allow them to meet you directly, Your Excellency Zhulumat Katamtum."
Apathy continued his whisper, and this time there was something different in the way he delivered those words.
There was a deeper, heavier tone, as if what would come next was the true core of everything that had happened at the border.
He told Shaqar that those envoys, when they refused to retreat and when they stated their reasons, did not come empty-handed.
They brought something, an object that immediately caught the attention of all the soldiers guarding the area.
A map, neatly rolled, tied with an unfamiliar dark-colored cord.
According to the envoys, that map was compensation, an entry ticket, the reason why they had to be allowed to meet Zhulumat Katamtum.
They claimed that during their journey to the outermost border of Thalyssra, both when entering the territory and when preparing to return to their place of origin, they had mapped something.
Something invisible to the ordinary eye.
Something that had not been detected by the observations of the captains who had spent hours sketching entry routes on paper.
The map, they said, contained information that could only be delivered directly to the highest leader.
Information that would change everything that had been planned so far.
The soldiers on guard, including Apathy and Shaqar's eighteen subordinates as well as the entire forces from the other captains, exchanged glances when the map was shown.
They were not ordinary soldiers.
They were people who had gone through enough battles to distinguish between bluff and genuine conviction.
And what they saw in the envoys' eyes, in the way they held the map, in the tremor of their voices as they explained, all led to one conclusion.
That the object was not a trick.
Not a tool of deception.
But something real.
Something valuable.
Something that might truly be worth the risk.
Yet at the same time, their soldierly instincts remained intact.
They stayed alert.
They did not trust easily.
So after a brief discussion that took place only through exchanged looks and small nods, a decision was made.
Not an easy decision.
Not one without risk.
But the most reasonable decision amid uncertainty.
Apathy explained to Shaqar that they chose to agree.
To allow the envoys to meet Zhulumat Katamtum.
However, that permission was not given without conditions.
Not without supervision.
Not without safeguards to protect them from the worst possibilities.
Several individuals were appointed as representatives from each subordinate of the captains of Team Xirkushkartum, directly commanded by Zhulumat.
Soldiers selected for their speed and sharp memory.
They were to depart immediately to meet their respective captains and report what had happened at the border.
They would run faster than the wind.
They would slip through the shadows.
They would reach the meeting circle in the shortest possible time.
Carrying news that uninvited guests had arrived, bringing a map that claimed to hold crucial information.
Meanwhile, the rest, most of the soldiers on guard, would remain at the border.
Their eyes would not blink.
Their weapons would not be lowered.
Their surveillance over the envoys would be layered and multiplied.
Leaving no room whatsoever for suspicious movement.
"Respect to the Lord of the Satanists, the Most Exalted Zhulumat Katamtum."
Slowly, like water receding after reaching the highest line of the shore, Apathy began to pull his face away from Shaqar's ear.
The movement was not abrupt.
Not sudden.
But done with full awareness that the moment of whispering had ended.
That the information had been delivered.
That it was now time to return to the proper position.
Around the meeting circle, a similar scene occurred repeatedly.
The representatives who moments earlier had leaned toward their respective captains, their mouths moving in secret whispers, now withdrew one by one.
The distance that had once been so close that breaths mixed together, that vibrations of sound traveled directly from lips to eardrums, began to widen.
Creating small spaces that had not existed before.
Faces that had nearly touched returned to their normal positions.
And for a brief moment, the air within the meeting circle felt lighter.
Even if only for a few seconds before a new weight replaced it.
After the distance between them and the captains returned to normal, after there were no more whispers to be conveyed, Apathy and all the representatives from each subordinate of the captains made the same movement almost simultaneously.
Their bodies, which had been slightly bent from whispering, straightened.
Their shoulders were pulled back.
Their chests slightly expanded.
Their heads lifted, with their chins neither too high nor too low.
Then, with remarkable uniformity, they slightly turned their bodies, directing their faces toward a single point.
Toward Zhulumat Katamtum, who still sat at the center of the circle.
Silent like a statue carved from the hardest stone in the world.
Their right hands were raised and placed on their chests with open palms.
While their left hands rested behind their backs with fingers straight and aligned.
It was the highest form of respect in their tradition.
A gesture reserved only for the supreme leader.
A gesture that spoke more than a thousand words about recognition of hierarchy and respect for command.
Five seconds.
Perhaps more.
Perhaps less.
But for those who witnessed it, it felt like time had frozen.
Like a painting that came to life for a moment before returning to stillness.
In those five seconds, nothing moved within the meeting circle except the rise and fall of breaths and perhaps the involuntary blinking of eyes.
The captains who had just received the whispers sat with unreadable expressions.
The High Satanist Officials of the Banner of Zhulumat watched with a mixture of curiosity and vigilance.
And Zhulumat Katamtum himself, the center of all that respect, remained silent.
With the same expression as before.
Showing neither acceptance nor rejection.
Perhaps thinking of something entirely different.
Seconds passed in perfect silence.
A silence filled with thousands of unspoken questions.
Thousands of possibilities yet to unfold.
Thousands of decisions still waiting to be made.
When those five seconds finally passed, when the silent count in each of their minds reached its end, Apathy was the first to move.
He turned his body.
Turning his back on Zhulumat Katamtum.
Turning his back on the meeting circle.
Turning his back on all the familiar faces.
To be continued…