Desert Company: Retrospective

An explosion rocked the prince’s eyes open. Unable to move, the sand covered him in a heavy blanket. The sounds of gunshots and conjuring spells blared in his ringing ear. Like a siren was inside his head. Looking around, the buggies were buried on top of each other, toppled over. They were plunged into the steep dune. He heard a familiar voice.

“Kwazhak! Kwazhak!” Saya ducked under as a projectile barely missed her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He responded to her voice of concern, “Has conflict finally revealed itself?”

“It’s really really bad outside,” She said quickly, pulling him out of the sand. “Mr. Khouw is fighting Tayang all by himself while we’re dealing with the other units.”

Mr. Khouw was fighting Tayang? Kwazhak had to enter as soon as possible. He came out from the wreckage. Khouw fired with his sniper rifle. Tayang deflected the shot with a shield. The bullets returned back at high speeds. Kwazhak ran to Khouw’s side. He touched his forehead, wrought with blood.

“M’lord… Why art thee here?” Khouw questioned, loading another into the chamber.

“I’m here to fight, Mr. Khouw,” Kwazhak panted, with a worn smile.

“Thou dost not need to fight while I am here-”

“Dihu Baohu.”

Kwazhak blocked an incoming shot from Tayang. Unfazed, the captain began to reload with another clip.

“Thy father has commissioned me when you were but a tot-”

“Let us fight this through this strife together,” He insisted, without looking back. “We’ve been through brick and brimstone. So Brother Khouw, I shall fight alongside thee.”

“...”

Kwazhak and Khouw had their backs facing each other, while the prince looked towards Tayang. He had never dealt with a firearms user before, only having a repertoire for bladefights and sahar skirmishes. He remembered his father’s lesson on dealing with projectiles. Multiple archers would shoot at him with dull rock arrows, as he swiped them out of the air with his sword. However, these were bullets, not arrows. They could fly hundreds of li per second. Kwazhak held out his hand. A sword appeared to his command, a titanium blade. The first flying ball of steel approached him. Time froze. The rotating bullet carved into the wind, and Kwazhak lifted his sword. Taking a deep breath in the milliseconds, he waved his blade downward. A small ding thudded into the sand.

“...”

Tayang noticed that the bullet had never reached its target. He flicked a switch on his submachine gun. A rain of steel slugs hurled towards Kwazhak in a flurry of flashing flickers. Sounds of ricocheting metal intensified, as he swung his sword at a fast pace, calm as ever. Straight, left, right, cross, angle, left right, he shot multiple shooting stars through his slashes. Flashes of sahar surrounded him. He stared directly at the captain without taking his focus off. Undulating his sword, the bullets bounced from each side of the blade. The sands reverberated like puddles of rain. If his mind was clear, they would come at him relatively slowly. His own hand tensed up. Kwazhak formed a shield that absorbed the rest of it. Then the projectiles stopped coming for a second. Followed by a stray that the prince deflected with his blade. The bullet split in two mid flight. Tayang lowered his pistol, still hissing smoke.

“Now.”

Khouw appeared from Kwazhak’s back and squeezed the trigger. The yellow projectile dashed and took the captain’s ear. The soldier let out a yell as he fell to his knees. Falling to the ground, Kwazhak stood holding his sword to the side.

“It’s over, Tayang,” He walked towards him. “This resolute solidarity… carries L’s will.”

“Corporal Conghuong!” The captain yelled, as the grunt rushed over to him. Khouw lifted his rifle, only for Kwazhak to sway his head.

“Yessir. Dihu Kaifuk,” Conghuong healed his officer’s wound. Still off balance, Tayang stood.

“Kwazhak Laoyuang. You’re a rat playing with fire,” He spat, cocking a pistol. “All high and mighty with your lofty ideals of overthrowing the tournament. Ya eyes are high. Do you really think that getting rid of the Dineh Kazaàd is a good thing?”

“It will end a thousand years of massacre and turmoil. Innocent lives shall be saved.”

“Hah. This world will always have problems. Terrorism, human trafficking, mass assault, illegal brothels. This world is stuck in the past and future. Whether you overthrow it or not, do you really think the Dineh people would go through with it? The KWKK would never allow it.”

“This world one speaks of may be full of problems, but we are approaching the future,” Kwazhak argued back, “Abolishing the Dineh Kazaàd is one step towards ending cultural bloodshed. People around the world are realizing the nature of Yahmajô̗ Alą̧̄utl. The media is a gatekeeper that deceives. We’ve left precious lives, corrupted by dreams of glory, parish.”

“Typical Laoyuang. Speaking of ending a problem in foreign country rather than focusing on our own issues in As-Z̆onghu̐a.”

“What art thou going on about?” Whatever it was, he needed to end this.

“The Laoyuang House never gave a shit about the Al-Qarakh House. After the fall of Silla the Laoyuangs promised the two Houses of the nation were supposed to be equals.”

“Oi, Pri- Captain Tayang…” Conghuong stood up slowly. “Even with our history-”

“Raise your weapon if you want to keep your job,” Tayang raised his voice at him. “The ‘Li Ngùe’ we have here is merely a façade. He was in cahoots with the fighters, looking to help them escape.”

“Y- yessir,” The soldier hesitantly aimed his gun at Kwazhak. The rest of the fighters soon clustered around the Prince.

“Kwazhak. We can win at this point,” Saya tugged his sleeve.

“Prince Tayang al-Qarakh, I am not the man you know,” Kwazhak voiced out, tightening the grip on his sword. Something was wrong. But it was too late. He couldn’t think about it. Kwazhak’s eyes widened. He tossed his sword at Tayang’s head.

“Then you don’t know about me,” The captain smiled with such animosity. From his back he took out a handheld transceiver. Kwazhak’s sword missed. A gunshot sounded through the area. The captain was stalling the entire time. Kwazhak never realized it until now. He cursed his dull intuition. He averted his eyes. A body collapsed to his side. Slowly he turned to his side to see Khouw. With a hole through his head. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

The Yeow Khouw that had served him ever since Kwazhak had first spoken. The one that stayed by his side for yesteryear, who had witnessed his first Guizu Arcana. The man lay dead in his arms. He didn’t even want to process what had happened. All Kwazhak could do was shake his head, his heart forlorn. The blame was on him. If he had been a better leader, then he could have…

“What the hell, Tayang!” Conghuong came running over, confused. “This wasn’t a part of-”

He was met with a barrel to his forehead. He fell to the ground.

“Death to traitors,” Tayang licked the blood off his gun, “Even though I had orders from Thiệu himself not to harm you people, I’m a bit unlike those dipshits who work for the money,” His grin knew no bounds, having no regard for human life. “I actually enjoy my job.”

“You…”

Suruj tackled Tayang at full speed. Knocking Tayang on the ground, the Buhang pummeled his face punch after punch, hit after hit, the blood staining his bones. While Kwazhak stared on, holding on to Khouw in his arm. Everything was a blur. Everyone’s voices, all those sounds, faded out into a harsh loop. Surely Suruj must feel the pain, Kwazhak thought. He knew that Suruj’s family was killed on Prince Tayang’s orders.

“Why would you do this!?” Suruj exhaled as he slammed another into his face.

“Y- you can heal him, right?” Hyun-woo asked Kwazhak, who stood silently.

“While that is a bright idea, saharic particles may repair major organs but only the brain is something that even the divine element cannot fix.”

Everyone turned their heads to a short man that appeared in the midst. Wearing a Dineh turquoise headband and an white-checkered Azu haori, the presence of him caused everyone to stop.

“Ah, it appears that I have made a sudden exclamation. Nyebvůkshå Tsiishch'lli, the Kazaàd-Wiepàzh Keena Kalepa Spokesperson for the Al-Wa Kazaàd Company International. In short, the KWKK Representative for Al-Wa. I believe Prince Tayang al-Qarakh is in need of my assistance,” He snapped his fingers, as a layer of guards surrounded the area. “In order to make sure your arrival is not delayed any more, we will be transporting you all personally.”

“Just… Who are you?...” Suruj lowered his fists, as Tayang broke free. “I’m done with this. If you don’t let us go then I’ll blow this place to oblivion!”

“I don’t think so. My friends and I have some stun guns that can prove to be a bit… shocking if you approve of that pun,” Nyebvůkshå spoke with a leisure voice.

Toqemur grabbed Suruj’s shoulders, “Suruj, that’s enough. There’s no way out,” She shook her head slowly. Sure enough, he lowered his guard.

“Well that’s a wrap. As for Laoyuang’s son, I deeply apologize for your loss,” The advisor put his hand over his heart and bowed sincerely. But Kwazhak was already too far gone to notice.

“I was indecisive. Illogical in my planning… I thought I could be responsible, however I learned that I’m no leader,” Kwazhak, a young man, asked himself, “Father, brother Zhen… what should I do?... L… What shall I do?”

He embraced Khouw with all he could; his faithful number two motionless in his grasp. In the body’s hands, laid the rifle Khouw had mastered. Boring scratches etched with sand, the last smoke from the warm barrel floating into the sky. Kwazhak’s sword in the sand, the one that had missed, began to fade into nothingness, bit by bit, particle by particle. He could hear them yelling for everyone to drop on their knees, nothing short of a daze.

What was resolute solidarity?