The Life of Koru, Chapter 49
(you can donate to https://donate.nifty.org/)
"Suh Umbralith, I'se have a friend called Mulo. He alive or in the netherworld?" Peon said.
"There are a lot of Mulos in the world, boy! You have to be more specific!"
"He a good bud, a very good bud!"
"Now this narrows it down a lot!"
"He like to bottom a lot!"
"Oh, I think I heard of him! Mulo! One thing I can say: a lot of mortals want him dead, but he is far from being so!"
"Thank ye, suh Umbralith suh!"
"De nada!"
"You're a solid rower, boy!" Duskwraith noticed. "I should take you with me to the netherworld!"
"Suh, I'se can't, suh! I'se a slave of Massa Reginald!" Peon said. "I'se must return to his plantations!"
He had been rowing on Duskwraith's boat for hours, but he still insisted about his "loyulteeh".
Meanwhile Master Eamon and Miss Amara discussed about all the wonderful memories that tied them together, father and daughter reunited after an awful tragedy.
At a certain point Miss Amara told Peon:
"I am sorry for you, boy, but you have to let go! I know that you love Massa Reginald and you also love Lil Massa, but they are both evil morons!"
"No, this not true, Missuh!" Peon said, incredulous.
"Let me tell you my story, boy, so you can judge!"
Once upon a time, she was a girl of only 18, brimming with the kind of hope and innocence that could light up the darkest corners of the world. Miss Amara, with her black curls and radiant smile, had captured the hearts of many, but it was Vincent she loved the most.
Vincent was a handsome Black man who was always in the company of Sir Julian, the notorious prankster also known as Lil Massa. He often partook in Lil Massa's schemes and escapades, but he seemed to have a gentle soul and always showed interest in Miss Amara.
Amara, blinded by her love for Vincent, believed his affections were genuine. They had shared countless evenings together, whispering sweet nothings and making plans for a future she longed for. But Vincent, under Sir Julian's influence, saw her as the perfect mark for their most audacious prank yet.
On a warm summer evening, beneath the twilight sky and surrounded by flickering candlelight, Vincent presented Amara with a small, ornate box. Her heart raced with anticipation, believing it to be a proposal. She opened the box with trembling hands, expecting to find a symbol of their love--a ring that would bind their hearts forever.
Instead, a jack-in-the-box sprang forth, its grotesque clown face leering at her. Amara's heart sank as Lil Massa emerged from a bush, his laughter ringing through the night. Vincent joined in, their cruel mirth echoing around her, shattering her dreams in an instant. Humiliated and heartbroken, Amara felt the sting of betrayal cut deep.
But the prank took a deadly turn. The jack-in-the-box, crafted by Lil Massa, released a smelly fart that was also highly inflammable -- something Lil Massa, in his stupidity, didn't think through. As the gas mixed with the flickering candle flames, a sudden explosion rocked the serene evening. The blast was powerful, consuming Vincent and Amara in an instant. Lil Massa, standing at a safe distance, watched in horror as the flames devoured his friend and the girl who had only sought love.
This was the sad story of Miss Amara, and now she only wanted revenge.
"Eamon, open up! By order of Master Reginald, you are to be detained for questioning!"
Still, there was no answer, only the continued silence, as if the tower itself held its breath. Chief Mazi exchanged a glance with his subordinates.
"Break it down!" Mazi ordered, his voice resolute. Two koru slaves stepped forward, hefting a sturdy battering ram. With a synchronized heave, they swung the ram against the door. The first impact sent a tremor through the heavy wood, and after a few more powerful swings, the door splintered and gave way with a resounding crash.
The Black overseers searched the entire tower but found nothing to suggest where the goldsmith and his apprentice might have gone.
"Fugitives!" Chief Mazi snarled. "We are dealing with two fugitive slaves!"
"Soldiers, we'se must fight! Today we'se cross the Linuh! Today we'se show the world what we'se made of! The Caulifate will tremble! Today, we'se gonna show 'em the power of the koru! We'se serve the Black Lords! Glory to the Black Empire! Glory to the Emperor!"
"Hip hip hoorah! Hip hip hoorah!" the slaves yelled.
Mulo was not very skillful at delivering speeches. He just spoke from his heart about what he believed regarding the war. He knew it was his responsibility to encourage the troops and be a good leader.
Not everyone recognized him as a leader though. Gryf called him a "prissy ass rookie faggit whose only purpose should be to sit on a cock". When Mulo respectfully explained that he doesn't identify as such, Gryf spitted in his face and said:
"Ye should wrestle me in the sand, boy! Fightin' with machetes is for faggits!"
"Shut up, soldier Gryf!"
The troops started marching -- line after line of naked koru soldiers in neat formation, their footsteps synchronized, with Mulo and Sleaze at the front. The talkie in Sleaze's hand communicated an important message from Captain Toure:
"Good luck, apes! I know you will need it!"
They were heading towards Qamar Al-Khafa, a famous well which marked the road to Oasis Bigguh. It was an important outpost. So many soldiers had died in battle defending it that it was said the well was haunted by thousands of souls. What made it the worst place in the Sahara however, was that no koru in the Black Empire could pronounce its name.
"Kwamakwafuh! Kwamkakafufuh! Kwamafafukwamafufukwah!" Mulo struggled to pronounce.
What sort of magic was this language? He couldn't wait to conquer that place and change the name of the well to something more straightforward, such as "Well".
The day was extremely hot but the soldiers had adapted to live like creatures of the desert. Their copper brown tanned hides blended well with the sun-drenched hues of the desert, offering some natural camouflage. They were experts at managing their scarce water resources, knowing never to gulp too much water in one go and discerning exactly what level of thirstiness really needed replenishment. And when they didn't have water, they drank their own piss.
"What will'se we do after we'se finish this battle?" Sleaze asked Mulo.
"Dunno!" Mulo said.
There would always be another oasis to conquer. Deeper and deeper into the desert they would go. No soldier knew how large the Caliphate was and where it ended. But Mulo knew one thing, that if they fight well enough, the "Caulifate" will get scared and will capitulate.
When they approached Qamar Al-Khafa, a distant ridge came into view, marking the location where their foes had amassed. The air was thick with tension, and the warriors tightened their grips on their machetes, ready for the imminent clash. Mulo, at the forefront, raised his weapon high, signaling the charge:
"ATTUUUUCK!"
The cry went up, echoing across the barren landscape, as they surged forward with a burst of speed.