They weren't vultures anymore; they were now the victims they created.
Whilst the seagull still held onto the window outside, some of the crowd watched with crossed arms and averting eyes. Some cheered for the man who held the blade.
Awan sat with his knees hugging his chest, and he turned around, thinking.
I have to do something. If not, it'll be on me.
He stared at the scene, waiting for the perfect chance.
Meanwhile, Malik looked down upon the victims and guffawed at them.
They proposed the motion, yet they were forced to continue on with him.
Zayne watched from behind, noticing the tattooed sigil on Malik's arm.
I thought that was a birthmark this entire time. Guess I'm wrong about a lot of things when it comes to him.
The sycophants were obligated to view the tattoo up close. They avoided touching it as if it would lacerate them.
Hence, they were careful, like delicate prey washing the teeth of an impatient beast.
Their movements were jagged, and Malik told them to hurry up and get on with it. Sweat dripped down their foreheads as they didn't want to proceed with it.
They turned around to Guan Sui, begging to let this one go. Instead, the crowned subordinate shook his head. He inaudibly mouthed, "You reap what you sow."
Even the silent Asem, who sat in his high throne, was pleased with the way they were being handled.
Crushing, the air around the council's lungs felt wrapped by a thread of blue and gold, yet Guan Sui hadn't moved a muscle. He was merely enjoying the show.
Laughing, some of the golden crowd began to mock the victims that kneeled before Malik. Even the darker portion of the crowd felt embarrassed watching their council submit like this.
Malik noticed their hesitation and tilted his head. "Are you having trouble inspecting someone like me? But you guys didn't seem to have trouble with her, so what gives?"
He paused, staring at their frozen expressions. "Fine, I'll do half of it for you."
Slowly, Malik grabbed the back of his collar and lifted it off his body. Taking it off, he raised it in his palm like a blade for everyone to see. Then it slowly fell like a feather. He dropped it on the red carpet of organs as blood seeped into the fabric.
He stood proudly, avoiding the eyes of the crowd locked onto his back as he waited for their reactions.
Are they going to feel bad for me, or are they going to gain a twisted understanding of why I'm able to do what I do?
For a second, their awe took over. Each of them looked to the person on their left and right to make sure they were all seeing the same thing.
Simultaneously, everyone gasped at the sight. They had all questioned to themselves what kind of man could sustain such injuries and move so freely. What kind of beast mauled him, and what kind of beast was he able to escape the jaws of?
They were surprised, and they felt that staring at it too long would permanently mark their skin.
From silent murmurs and wide eyes, Malik expected this to happen. He kept his focus on the council, as they had to witness it up close.
A plethora of raised scars formed into webs on his upper body. Each scar told a different story. One that would be told by Malik, and the other would be told by the bayonet.
Then, from the astonishment, came one boy who understood.
"I told you he was hurt!" Nodin shouted, high-pitched.
The people looked at the boy with raised eyebrows. Then, when they looked at Malik again, they used the same lens the boy did.
Their perspective changed, and their awe quickly softened to empathy. Malik heard his words and stored them.
I really have to give that kid my thanks sometime.
As the inspection continued, the majority began to silently ridicule the council under their breath.
Malik felt their decrepit hands glide with friction across his body. The sycophants closed their eyes as they gulped.
"I'm afraid you'll find more scars than wire," Malik said.
With shut eyes, the council wanted to insult him, but they kept their words sealed behind their lips.
Slowly, their hands shifted downward, and they had to feel everything else. They gagged, thinking they would feel another blade.
Malik felt their pathetic attempts to get it over with.
"Tell me if you feel any authority when searching somebody that can bite."
They didn't respond. They only hung their heads as they gradually shifted down to his ankles, finding not one wire.
Ultimately, they finished. They wiped their hands on their leather robes with grimaces as they crawled toward the crowned subordinate.
In unison, the remaining council silently muttered,
"He's clean . . ."
Guan Sui softly clapped with less reverence than usual.
"Very well, sycophants. Was that so difficult now?"
They covertly nodded their heads, angled low enough that Malik wouldn't be able to see it.
The darker spots in the crowd that remained began to bleed gold as they too complained about the council they once revered. They're a husk of the righteous humans they used to be. Now they're hypocritical vultures to them.
From behind them, Zayne saw an opportunity to speak.
"So, is it my turn to be inspected now?" he asked, concealing his smile.
Malik turned his head and gave him a smirk.
He looked down at the shirt, covered in the blood of the previous victims. Then he remembered their helplessness as he grabbed his blood-stained shirt and put it back on.
Suddenly, the council who once stood now crawled on all fours.
They barked,
"No! That scarred thing was enough!"
Zayne shrugged his shoulders as he and Malik hid a giggle beneath their expressions.
The air gained a sense of warmth again as the council stared at Guan Sui for the next step.
Suddenly, the crowned subordinate stepped forward. He had the same look on his face Malik and Zayne had, but why?
Slowly, he clapped in admiration.
"I'm very pleased with this court session . . ."
His long smile faced the crowd.
"What do you say, people? Who do you believe was the one that was righteous? The man who held the bayonet, or the council who accused it?"
Only spots of dark remained as the gold began to light up the courtroom on all floors.
The thread of his words reached their ears, but they didn't listen past a specific word.
Bayonet.
Their eyes and teeth gleamed a golden spectacle as they cried that word with all their hearts.
"Bayonet! Bayonet! Bayonet!"
Each of the men, women, and children had grown a golden spark and sung that word repeatedly.
Their tongues were sharpened with the blade's words rather than the council's reasoning.
Guan Sui heard a lot more bayonets than council, but he couldn't blame them.
He expected it, but he still kept standing tall. He had allowed the council to be seen as shorter, but he couldn't allow himself to be in that position.
Patiently, he waited until their cheers died down.
When he heard the final utter of the word Bayonet, he finally stepped closer to the blade itself.
He didn't look Malik in the face. Instead, he looked at the sharpness of what he held in his palm.
He waved to it and then gazed into Malik's face.
Without any hesitation, he spoke.
"The people seem to love the blade. Unfortunately, the law does not forgive based on notoriety."
Staring deeper, he uttered,
"It doesn't matter whether you're a spy or not. What matters is the very crime you committed before us. We didn't need any proof, as you handed it to us without any remorse."
Malik's eyes widened. He realized what the crowned subordinate meant.
". . . The matter of fact doesn't change. You mutilated your prosecutors like a rabid beast. You have effectively proven the idea that every visitor we get is another problem we have to face."
. . . .
No. I didn't mutilate them. I did what I knew I had to do. If I didn't stop them, who would've done it if they proceeded further with her?
The crowd heard the conviction, and in gold they shouted in disapproval, whilst the dark that remained stayed silent.
Guan Sui heard their outcry, but he ignored them.
Instead, he stared at Asem, who held an unsure look on his bearded face.
He whispered, exhausted,
"You and I both know they got what they deserved."
He pointed his shriveled finger at Guan Sui.
The crowned subordinate shook his head.
"Me and the people always come first."
Asem felt the thread and quietly sank back into his chair.
Meanwhile, Malik's hand trembled. He felt the bayonet speak in his hand, but he muffled it as he stored it in his pocket.
He spoke directly to him.
"You would've done the same eventually."
"Only a fool would give their opponent ammunition," Guan Sui responded without even facing him.
Facing the chief, he proposed,
"Say, Asem, you've seen him maul right before your eyes. Wouldn't you say that's enough to execute our visitor and his blade?"
The chief felt the thread and weakly held the gavel in his hand, raising it.
Guan Sui turned, grinning.
"Well Malik, your friends are in the clear, but you and your bond aren't."
Malik couldn't speak. He knew Guan Sui was right. He drove himself into a corner to be crushed by a golden gavel.
The people roared as Asem raised the gavel and insulted the motion. Deep down, they knew Malik had done what they should've done a long time ago.
But there was nothing left. No logic, emotion, or convincing could change what the eyes had seen.
Asem lifted the gavel, his arm shaking with its weight. He wanted someone to interject, but his arm descended under the hammer's sheer conviction.
As it neared the sound block below it, it wouldn't change trajectory.
Silence fell as the air let it travel gracefully to its path.
Malik closed his eyes, as now he had no more weight to bear.
His pocket stayed silent.
At least I got them out of this. I guess we both couldn't get away with it.
Inches away, the gavel nearly kissed the wood.
Until—
"Wait!"
. . .
The gavel was knocked off its path and tossed aside on the table.
Asem and everyone else followed the sound of the voice.
The voice marched, its mouth open. A golden light poured out and flowed like smoke in the air. It lit the path of where it was going. When Asem saw who held that strong voice, he couldn't help but smile. Zayne tapped Malik's shoulder, and when he finally turned around, he couldn't believe it.
With tan skin and golden threads forming in the air, Awan was the one to step forward.
"So, spears are allowed to massacre people in the name of tradition, but a bayonet isn't allowed to punish those who do wrong?"
He spoke confidently; the nervousness in his voice from before had dissipated.
He ignored Guan Sui. Instead, he stared Asem dead in the eye.
He held his breath and uttered, "If we execute them now, that does nothing but prove we are afraid of visitors and of the outside itself! These are not the visitors like you imagine! These are people, people that fight for what they believe, not what some wicked realm tells them to do!"
Hearing this, Guan Sui interjected, "But haven't you seen these people are capable of killing others? Who's to say they won't direct it to our people—"
Slam!
Asem slammed the gavel on the table, bearing less weight this time.
"Silence, Guan Sui! Awan, continue," the chief asserted with a golden light in his eyes. He leaned forward to better hear his proposition.
Awan shouted, "We have to prove to our visitor of Nawra that we are not like his tribe, where they fearmonger those to death! We are not like the tribe of grief, Penthos, where we kill, then grieve afterward! We are not like the tribe of forgiveness, Selicha, where they forgive all crimes!"
He continued, "We are the tribe of joy, Marah, where we do not forgive so easily, nor reward so easily! We accept and welcome all with bright smiles; that's a lesson that every land should take!"
"But that doesn't mean we aren't flawed! Anything that wipes off the smiles of our people shall be expurgated, and Malik has done just that, getting rid of the very council that damages our integrity and agreed to the rituals in the first place!"
The crowd heard the tribesman's words, and the golden light brought a smile to each of their faces. Each bit of darkness had begun to subside at the sound of his voice.
Guan Sui saw their faces, and he felt his very threads loosen, out of his control.
He began to lose his composure. "He killed the people's fathers, brothers, and fatally wounded the council! What more do you need to prove that he isn't as welcoming as we thought?"
The golden smiles sneered at the subordinate's attempt to argue against it. Asem nearly laughed at it as well.
"Liar! He was placed in a ritual that you and your council collectively created! He was simply a man who wanted him and his friends to survive! If he sacrificed his own reputation so that he could preserve the smiles of his friends, doesn't that fulfill our tribe's purpose?" Awan argued.
Eyes silently judged Guan Sui from all floors.
He scanned through possible words. "Then they should be exiled back to the tribe they came from! A punishment befitting of killers who entered our homes!"
Awan spread his arms out. "There are times where killers are necessary! They have the strength to do what most can't and can cleanse the wrong in this world! You of all people should know that there are things in this world better off removed!"
He stepped forward, speaking to Asem and the crowd. "If you will go ahead to exile them, then I will exile myself along with them! Because joy doesn't isolate itself on its own; it welcomes its neighbors! Exile me! I dare you to!"
"The land of Marah is here, but presence walks alongside me no matter where I go! If that isn't joy, then what is?"
Awan exhaled as his hand held onto his heart. The gold that floated in the air resonated with everyone.
Suddenly, an applause emerged.
Each clap felt liberating for Awan. He held his arms up for full display, and so had everyone else.
Malik, Zayne, and even Asem raised their arms. Asem held the gavel up high, but held it like it weighed as much as a feather.
Then the chief sat upright in his rightful throne and laughed in pure delight. "Spoken like a true man . . . son. It appears these visitors have shaped you more in days than our tribe has in years."
"Whaaaaaaat?!!"
All this time, the lonely tribesman boy they knew was the chief's son all along?
The word was repeated multiple times within the crowd, but Asem nodded his head to confirm their understanding.
He cleared his throat. "I will respect your wishes, Awan. You were able to read a room, but never write in it. Now you have proven me wrong and shown that you can think for yourself. That's the best joy a father could ever ask for."
Awan smiled. "Thank you, father. I—I mean chief."
Asem chuckled. "No worries, boy. You don't have to hide it anymore. You are the true vice-chief."
He lightly tapped the gavel on the sound block and pointed it to the door.
Guan Sui barked, "They killed, Asem! How can you just let them—"
"Guan Sui!" Asem barked.
The subordinate glanced at him as he felt his threads weaken.
"The crown. Give it to the rightful owner," the chief ordered. "Next time refer to me as Chief Asem. Maybe then I'd consider your gilded words."
Guan Sui hung his head; some staples snapped off his smile. He slowly tore off the gold-plated headband on his forehead. Holding it, it felt heavy, nearly dislocating his shoulder.
He hesitantly walked toward Awan and handed it to him.
Gleefully, he wore it proudly and moved weightlessly.
Awan motioned for Zayne and Malik to follow him. Kaya and Adirah had left the washroom as the applauding transpired.
Kaya was tired. Her eyes were open, but she seemed oddly liberated. It was as if she had let out a burden she carried for far too long. Now it was released.
Together, they all walked down the velvet carpet. It felt less like organs this time.
The crowd roared at their victory, and they averted their eyes from the once-crowned subordinate.
"Vice-Chief! Bayonet! Vice-Chief! Bayonet! Vice-Chief! Bayonet!"
Their shouts of both names resonated within them.
Malik patted Awan's back. "Looks like you got some fans, huh?"
"I can say the same for you, dude." Awan grinned.
The door opened for them. The palace had become golden, and the darkness had died out.
The only darkness that remained staring at them was Guan Sui.
He completed his mission, but the people weren't applauding for him anymore. They had ignored him, tossed him aside.
Awan turned around, facing him, and didn't say a word.
He only stuck his tongue out at him, wearing the crown that was once his.
Guan Sui wouldn't forget it. He laughed, not in victory, but in emptiness.
As the calm of the storm's light entered through the door, they were heading to the tribe of fear, Nawra.
Awan led the way, as Malik, Zayne, Adirah—who was holding Kaya—were moving on.
They met a new light outside. The eyes on the gavel had closed, and the spears which directed them faced away from them.
Adirah spoke, carefully holding Kaya. "I have a grandson who lives in that tribe. Noam. He's a quiet boy, but he'd gladly invite you."
The rest of them nodded, and they kept looking forward. They ignored the spears, the gavels, and any remaining darkness.
Onward, they traveled with gold hugging their hearts.
To a new land. A land that spikes fear.
But what power did fear hold when joy was all that persisted in their hearts?