Hostile Takeover
Weeks had passed since Mamir and Ennui set out across the Aldorrian Desert. The trek had been tireless and on numerous occasions the two managed to skirt danger, avoiding bandits, giant scorpions, and creatures of the night. Day after day they had rested in the covered wagon, each of them taking turns to ensure nothing untoward woWeeks have passed since Mamir and Ennui set out across the Aldorrian Desert. The trek had been tireless and on numerous occasions the two managed to skirt danger, avoiding bandits, giant scorpions, and creatures of the night. Day after day they had rested in the covered wagon, each of them taking turns to ensure nothing untoward would occur.
Their arrival in Sidi had been marked with ill-fated weather, dust storms rose from the west, blowing harsh red sands across the white painted walls of the city. The houses are covered in thin layers of sand, appearing as though they had been colored with powdered rust. Mamir and Ennui keep to themselves, avoiding guards and city watch alike. It is not until their arrival at the Zeybek Estate that Ennui realizes something is truly amiss. A dark cloud seems to hang over the once vibrant estate. Guards surround the estate, their unwillingness to grant her an audience rousing her suspicions. When Mamir inquires about the welfare of Lady Aleyna, a sense of unease grows within the guards. Ennui and Mamir leave notice for the guards to inform Lady Aleyna of their arrival, though Ennui knows better than to expect a summons.
A small inn, blocks from the estate, acts as their temporary home. Ennui and Mamir spend the better part of five days plotting a way into the estate and possible escape routes. She is aware that what she had planned would be dangerous, and that the potential for things to go awry is quite high. Despite that, without knowing the allegiance of the Sidian guard, the best course of action is one that was swift and final.
Mamir sits on the colorful sheets on the floor. The small room barely fits the two of them and the supplies they had packed. Mamir looks up, his brow pulling together while he turns to Ennui.
“You bloody well expected this,” Mamir grumbles before he returns to fletching the lengthy arrows.
Ennui smirks, one leg draped lazily over the other as she lounges on the bed. “Did not.”
Mamir scoffs, shaking his head. “This sounds exactly like you. Marching in, ready to take on an army. I should’ve known the moment I saw what supplies you took.”
Ennui inspects her nails with feigned disinterest. “Does not. I like things clean and efficient. As you are well aware…”
Mamir looks up from his careful work, threading another arrow into his quiver. “Don’t think you can make this quick or efficient. M-maybe—just maybe—we can get some guards on our side.”
Ennui chuckles, voice dripping with mockery. “Yes. ‘Dear guard, Lady Aleyna Zeybek is being held captive by her husband’s men—would you be so kind as to aid us in her liberation… and subsequent slaughter of your fellow guards?’”
“You always make me sound stupid,” Mamir groans, hunching over his work.
“Well, I mean… it’s not far off—”
“Shut it!” Mamir snaps, shoving an arrow deep into the leather quiver. He shifts on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position before exhaling sharply. “Are you seriously expecting me to take on this many mercenaries?” His voice tightens. “Ennui… it’s Ziad Zeybek. Emir Ziad Zeybek.”
Ennui bites her lip, her voice questioning. “I have faith in you.” She clicks her tongue, taking a slow breath. “We’ll be fine. If things go wrong, you can leave me. But you better run the fuck back to the north and go back to being the gods’ bitch.”
Mamir’s glare sharpens. “Right then,” he mutters. “Shall we run through the plan once more?”
Ennui’s tail flicks atop the bed, betraying her annoyance. “Right, so—you’re going to kill everyone at the—”
“What?! Ennui, seriously—”
“Fine,” she sighs, slipping a dagger back into its sheath. “I’ll climb over the eastern gate and open it from the inside. If there’s anyone there… I’ll incapacitate them. Then, I let you in. From there, we make our way to the courtyard… then to Lady Aleyna’s room.”
Mamir narrows his eyes. “And if she’s not in her room?”
Ennui grimaces. “Well… then they all die, I guess,” she shrugs.
“Good enough.” Mamir sighs, flopping onto his back. He stares at the ceiling before muttering, “Ennui, this is hells of a lot more than I signed up for. I don’t think I’m ready to die.”
“You’ll be fine,” Ennui snaps. “You’re not the one putting your ass in the middle of a courtyard filled with mercenaries.”
“Assuming you can even get in,” Mamir murmurs, running a hand through his beard.
Ennui watches the low flickering flame on the desk, pulling another dagger from her boot. Mamir glances at her curiously before turning back to his pillow. She settles the sharpening stone in her lap, dragging the blade’s edge across the oiled surface with slow strokes.
Outside, the dust storm howls against the mudbrick walls, rattling the shutters. Curtains billow inward, the room.
A long silence lingers before Mamir speaks again. “What if we can’t save her? What if she’s already dead?”
Ennui doesn’t answer immediately. Then, flatly, “She’s alive. The lion spoke with her through some magickal nonsense.”
Mamir’s eyes grow wide. “That is shocking. Experienced clerics or learned priests are the only ones capable of such a feat.” He pauses and hums aloud. “Then again… if he is the Saint of Flames that may make more sense.”
“Yes, well, perhaps Khimi should’ve brought his ass here before running off with the little lion,” Ennui mutters.
“If we had a saint with us, the sanctum might actually listen—”
“Mamir.” Ennui interrupts sharply. “We’ve discussed this. You are not to expose Lumi’s nature to anyone.”
Mamir shrugs. “He should claim his right and start a following,” he argues. “The longer he hides, the worse it’ll get. If people find out he’s been hiding in the shadows…”
“Khimi is going to stab me for ever mentioning this to you,” Ennui groans, rubbing her eyes. “Just… don’t mention it again.”
“I keep my promises,” Mamir replies. “I just think it’d be a hell of a lot easier with him here. With the gods’ gifts, don’t you think he could make the journey here quicker with the gods’ gifts?”
“No,” Ennui snaps. “And Khimi will be twice as pleased knowing we did this without his help.”
Mamir rolls onto his side, bow in hand. “Tonight or tomorrow?”
“Tonight is as good a night as any, if not better. The dust will work in our favor.”
Mamir nods. “Then prepare yourself—”
“Prepare myself?” Ennui scoffs. “I should be the one telling you that.”
Mamir blows air through his lips and reaches for the bow at the edge of the bed. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”
Ennui rolls her eyes. “After sundown, then.”
“Get a bit of shut-eye,” Mamir whispers, turning away from Ennui. He curls up against the wall with the bow in his arms. “It’ll be a long night.”
By the time the sun sinks beneath the dust-choked horizon, the red dust clouds block out the fading light. Ennui awakes from her shallow slumber, a loud group of travelers crowd into the common room of the inn. Their laughter and drunken shouts echo through the mudbrick walls of the building. Ennui sits up. She pushes aside the curtain, peering out into the marketplace. The swirling storm has turned the sky a deep crimson, the buildings bathed in the murderous glow of the setting sun. Mamir stirs beside her, wasting no time. He bends his short bow against the ground, shaping it harshly to attach a new bowstring. Ennui, mirroring his quiet preparation, checks each dagger as she slots them into their hidden sheaths.
A few moments later, they slip out the window onto a narrow balcony, pulling their linen cloaks tight around their mouths to block out the swirling red dust. They move swiftly, shadow to shadow, slipping through alleyways until they reach the outer wall of Zeruhan. The once-pristine white walls are peppered with dust, blending into the night. No patrols in sight. Perfect.
“Ennui,” Mamir whispers, testing the tension in his short bow. “Be careful,” he insists outside the side gates.
Ennui looks back, tightening the cowl over her horns. A confident smirk curves on her lips. “Observe.”
With care, she draws a dagger, sinking it into the wooden post of the gate. Testing its hold, she hauls herself up, scaling the wall. The garden beyond is shrouded in dust, the flickering light of a distant brazier barely visible through the red haze. With a silent drop, she lands on the cobbled path, checking her surroundings before unlatching the gate. It groans against the build-up of sand as it swings open.
Mamir slips through, nodding his approval. Together, they dart across the length of the courtyard, pressing against the coarse walls as they near the arched hallway leading to the inner estate. The distant thrum of music and raucous voices spill from the Great Hall, muffled by the storm. Pressing their backs to the wall, they slide against the gritty texture, snagging against their linen clothing. Ennui eyes lock onto a lone guard stationed near a pillar, face obscured by a scarf, his posture lax. She flicks her gaze toward the hedges along the base of the wall lining the courtyard wall. Mamir positions himself behind, ducking. He catches on immediately, slipping low and crawling along the base, disappearing into the cover of the leaves. Ennui exhales slowly, shifting her weight on silent feet. We begin.
Ennui whispers a word Samael once taught her. Shadows curl around her feet, pulling her forward in a dark tide. In a blink, she reappears in the darkness beside the central fountain, crouched and poised. We’ll at least have to kill that one. Her eyes settle on the lone guard, his back pressed against a sandstone pillar, hands resting on the hilts of his twin scimitars. Would be nice if we knew which room was Aleyna’s… She exhales, rubbing her temples in slow circles. Well… that bloke is fucked either way.
Slipping forward, she melds into the shadow of a wide palm near the courtyard’s entrance. The guard remains still, oblivious. Ennui watches him for a heartbeat longer before drawing her gladius. The hilt is warm in her grip, a familiar comfort. With a final breath, she vanishes again. She reappears behind the pillar, fingers gliding along the rough sandstone as she edges closer. The brazier’s flame dances wildly, casting long, flickering shadows that mask her approach. Her fingers drum against the hilt—one, two, three. Then, in a single fluid motion, she brings the gladius up, both hands steadying its weight. She strikes. The blade plunges deep, slicing through shoulder and into chest. The man gasps, legs stuttering beneath him. She catches him before he collapses, lowering him to the ground as his body slackens. With a soft grunt, she wrenches the blade free, the wet pull of steel against flesh barely audible beneath the distant laughter of drunken revelers.
Festive voices echo from the main hall as Ennui drags the corpse into the brush. A trail of dark flecks marks her path. Sloppy. She wipes her blade on his tunic before darting toward the hedges. Mamir stands on his toes, peering into a curtained window, his stubby fingers gripping the ledge. She approaches, looking into one of the adjacent windows facing the courtyard. In the darkness, she can see in tones of gray. The room remains empty and dark, wrinkled linens lie on the floor, the room is in a state of disarray. Mamir clicks his tongue, nodding his head towards the next window along the wall. Ennui quickly follows, lowering herself and moving behind the hedges.
“Heard somethin’,” he mutters as Ennui approaches. His dark eyes flick to hers. “Think I heard cryin’.”
Ennui straightens, peering over the windowsill. The curtain shifts just enough for her to glimpse the silhouette of a woman curled on the bed. “Could be her.”
Without hesitation, she hoists herself onto the windowsill and slips inside, her movements silent as a wraith. The scent of perfume lingers in the lavish chamber—gold-trimmed silks draped over ornate furniture, a pale oil lantern casting weak light. Near the bed, a woman sobs softly. As Ennui nears, her crimson gaze meets a pair of wide, terrified eyes. Shit.
“Don’t scream,” Ennui whispers, raising a finger to her lips. She tugs the scarf down from her mouth.
Recognition flashes across Aleyna’s tear-streaked face. “You! You worked for Ziad!”
Ennui winces. Fantastic.
“Shhh,” she hisses, motioning for Aleyna to be quiet. “That was a long time ago. I’m here at your son’s insistence.”
Aleyna clutches the scarf over her head, obscuring the bare, jagged stumps where her horns once were. “Khimi?” she breathes, voice breaking.
“Your son,” Ennui confirms with a sigh, watching Aleyna’s shoulders ease at the words.
Despite her ragged state, Aleyna is stunning. Ennui remembers catching glimpses of her in passing years ago, back when she was under Ziad’s employ. Over the course of the years, Aleyna had hardly changed, her gentle appearance still remains. The softness of her features have barely changed.
“W-why did he send you?”
Ennui rolls her eyes. “The aslan knew you were hiding something. Something in your voice… Good thing, right?”
“They’ll kill you,” Aleyna murmurs, wiping at her nose with the sleeve of her silk kaftan.
“Can you come with us?” Ennui asks, ignoring Aleyna’s words. “We have a path secured out of the window and through the garden.”
Aleyna dabs her cheek with the linen sheet. “No. They have my handmaid.”
Ennui exhales sharply, tail flicking in irritation. “This really isn’t the time. We’re here to save you, not—”
“Absolutely not,” Aleyna snips, looking up from the mattress with an angry scowl. “Maza has protected me. She has suffered because of me.” Her voice cracks as fresh tears spill over.
Ennui places her palms over her eyes, her tail wriggles behind her impatiently. Godsdamnit. She stalks to the door, pressing her ear against the wood. Laughter and heavy footfalls carry from the hall.
Grinding her teeth, she turns back. “What’s the plan, then?”
“Save her.” Aleyna clasps her hands together. “I’ll pay you—whatever you want.”
Ennui sighs and crosses the room to the window. She really is Khimi’s mother. Reaching out, she extends her arm into the night. A callused hand grasps hers. With a firm yank, she pulls Mamir through the window. She turns back to Aleyna, whose startled face gives Ennui a sense of joy.
“It’s just us,” Ennui deadpans, brushing dust from Mamir’s shoulders. “We can’t take on a damn army of mercenaries,” she mutters through her teeth. “Mamir, did you hear what she said?”
“It just isn’t possible, Lady Aleyna,” Mamir says respectfully and offers a gentle bow before closing the curtains to the room. “I know you want to save your servants, but they’ll understand.”
“Maza is family,” Aleyna interrupts. “She’s the only one who stayed.”
Ennui scoffs while she crosses the room. With her ear pressed to the door, she can hear the sounds of loud conversation in the hall. “I guess we’re killing everyone, then.”
Mamir’s grip tightens on his bow. “Bullshit,” he grumbles. “Ennui, we need to leave. Knock her out if you must!”
“Please,” Aleyna begs, rising to her feet. “I know what you’re capable of. I know what you did for Ziad. I know the things you’ve done…”
Ennui scratches at her horns. “Well… that was then. The situation is a bit different here. I have to somehow keep you alive,” she whispers. “How do we do this, Mamir?”
“Why’re you asking me?” he hisses. “Can I not be part of this madness?”
Ennui smirks. “She’s might be your employer soon, might as well make her happy.”
Mamir’s face contorts in frustration. “I knew you planned this.”
Aleyna straightens the silk kaftan. “Mamir is it?” she asks, hurrying to Mamir’s side.
“Aye,” Mamir says, his cheeks turning red while Aleyna kneels before him.
“Please,” Aleyna begins. “I beg of you, save Maza. She is… very important to me,” she adds.
Mamir averts his gaze, his dark cheeks brightening with color. “If she’s like family… then I suppose,” he says stiffly.
“Thank you,” Aleyna whispers, placing a hand on Mamir’s shoulder. “Am I to expect your talents rival that of Ennui’s?”
Ennui scoffs. “Hardly. He can shoot a bow. I guess.”
“You guess?” Mamir mocks, raising an eyebrow. “Ya know, I am bloody great with a bow,” he adds, giving Ennui with a look of reproach.
Before Ennui can retort, loud footfalls thud outside the door. Both she and Mamir scurrying. Ennui pushes her back against the wall, her hand immediately grabs the hilt of her bloodied gladius. Mamir hides behind the curtains, his hand resting on the hilt of his dirk. A single knock strikes the door. Then the door swings open, slamming against the wall. A pale-skinned ashva hay-colored hair stands in the doorway. She jostles a plate up and down, then strides in, a half-eaten chicken carcass sliding across the greasy plate.
Her eyes narrow at Aleyna. “Why’re you up?” She tosses the plate to the floor with a smirk. “What’re you up to?”
“I-I had to use the privy,” Aleyna stammers, averting her gaze.
The mercenary snorts. “Use the chamber pot.” She turns her back with a laugh, rifling through a ring of keys. “Guess you’ll just have to stay locked up then.”
Aleyna turns to Ennui, her eyes pleading for help as the mercenary begins to close the door behind her. Acting quickly, Ennui sprints towards the door and with a powerful movement, rips it open. The mercenary freezes in shock, her mouth gaping open. In one swift motion, Ennui plunges her gladius into the mercenary’s throat, silencing her screech. As she gurgles and thrashes, Ennui sticks her fist into the woman’s mouth to muffle her dying sounds. With intense focus in her eyes, Ennui reaches for her dagger before the mercenary finally slumps against her body, lifeless. Cursing under her breath, Ennui withdraws her blade, blood spilling over her boots. She uses all her strength to drag the woman into the room before closing the door behind them.
“Ennui!” Mamir hisses from behind the curtain, his voice sharp with disbelief. “We’re actually doing this?”
Ennui shoots him a withering glare. “Shut it, dwarf.”
Aleyna, still trembling, watches in horror as Ennui crouches beside the mercenary’s corpse, rifling through her belongings without any sense of hesitancy. “Is that necessary?” she whispers, her voice unsteady.
“Oh, she won’t be needing any of this,” Ennui replies smoothly, lifting a small leather pouch from the dead woman’s belt. She tosses it to Mamir without looking, already searching for anything else of use. Coins jingle as Mamir catches the pouch, but Ennui barely hears it—her focus is on the mercenary’s pockets, her sleeves, her boots. A few blades, some useless trinkets. No maps, no orders, nothing to suggest a bigger plan. She exhales sharply, tossing a final dagger onto the floor with a scowl. “At least we have the keys,” she mutters, slipping the heavy ring from the woman’s belt. “It’s best if you hide, Lady Aleyna.”
Mamir tosses the pouch onto a nearby desk. “Maybe the wardrobe?”
“I’ll wait here,” Aleyna whispers, wringing her hands. Her breath shakes as she steels herself. “Maza is a young ikati, in case you need to know. She has sandy blonde hair, an-and she—”
“We’ll find her,” Ennui interrupts, voice clipped. She wants to sound reassuring, but even she isn’t convinced.
Mamir crouches beside the dead mercenary, pressing his fingers over her lids to close her vacant eyes. “We’d best begin, then.” He stands, adjusting his bowstring with a grunt. “Don’t get shot again.”
Ennui flicks her tail in annoyance. “I won’t.” She drags her palm across her thigh, wiping off invisible dust.
Mamir tests his bowstring once more before stepping toward the open doorway. “Let’s get this over with.”
Behind them, Aleyna clasps her hands together. “Please be careful,” she whispers. “If I could… I would aid you.”
Ennui’s lips curl into a wry smirk. “You can aid us—by staying here and staying alive.” Her tail flicks again, betraying the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She exhales, closing her eyes for a brief moment. There’s a weight in her chest, a flicker of something she can’t quite name. Nerves? Doubt? No, neither fit. It’s something deeper, something she hasn’t felt in a long time. A prayer. The thought strikes her like a blade to the ribs. The instinct to ask for something, to seek favor from the gods—something she hasn’t done in years. Her lips part, hesitant, the words forming before she can stop them. Watch over me. It’s foolish. She curses herself under her breath. What am I thinking? The gods have never listened before. Why should they start now? She knows what she is—what she’s done. Whatever light they offer, it isn’t meant for her. Not after Samael. Not after everything. The memories press in, thick and suffocating. Blood on her hands. Whispers in her ears. The weight of promises made to something far older and crueler than any god. She clenches her jaw, shoving the thoughts aside. No divine intervention is coming. No salvation. Just her—just steel, shadows, and a sharp edge. With a final breath, she steps over the mercenary’s body, gladius in hand.
“I have an idea.”