Chapter 9: The Orange Rider and The Tablets of Ram

The Age of peace was destroyed when mankind polluted the soil with its sick and twisted thoughts and feelings. Now the age of Discord must be lived through in order to bring harmony once again to the world. Mortem commanded this, and in so we must obey it. But beware. In these dark times, evil and hideous things will rise from the ashes and try to sink its claws into peace again, killing accord. Beware those who you put your trust into. Without the proper knowledge or understanding of that being, it may lead to our own demise.  

-The Tablets of Ram 

The once decimated world ruled by the harsh aristocracy of the Zakaz, has now begun to bubble with life for the past few months. While the Archers were searching for the Riders, the lords of smaller provinces began to revolt against the main empire. No one was sure why this was happening, mainly because communication across the lands were difficult then. The Archers Zinc and Argon were ready to march on Bakea, and they assembled their army, with the Overlevas right behind them. A scout, a fast-little chameleon, caught up with Zinc and Argon on their route. It shined with different colors of yellow and green and purple to express its exhaustion. It explained to them that the lords have started to revolt, and that he found out the reason why. 

“I am from one of the cities in the North, and this is what a fellow Zakaz told me,” the Chameleon said. “Apparently a strange figure entered the city one day and began preaching in the central sqaure. It said that the Archers were the cause of their suffering, and that by only revolting against them would they have peace,” the Chameleon blinked its big eyes of couple of times to rub out some dirt that attracted in his eyelids. “Now preachers are normal to see a lot now, but this is where the problem is. Everyone agreed with the preacher’s words and began attacking the main house.  They proclaimed sovereignty until a true leader will emerge,” the Chameleon continued on has bits of red and orange began to appear on his scaly skin. “This is also happening in the other provinces as well, and it’s growing like forest-fire. What should we do?” 

Zinc and Argon just stood there for a moment, they had no idea what to do. Zinc’s scales shook a little in the breeze, and Argon began smacking his sharp teeth up and down. First, they lost one of their best friends Radon to the Shaman. Now of course, the Overlevas promised they took care of the Shaman, but refused to allow them to see him. The sight of Radon’s body opened like a zipper-bag was a devastating sight, and the two were still suffering a bit of trauma from it. They’ve seen corpses before obviously, but this one was different. The body, even though it was already rotting, looked like Radon was still screaming in pain. His eyes showed terror, the remainder of the muscles in his body were frozen in a position of struggle and agony. The way his rib cage was split upon was as if the Shaman lifted one rib at a time, so we could make a perfect opening into the guts and intestines. To the two Archers, it was too painful to even look at, it scarred them. While they didn’t want to talk about it, it did affect their decision making.  

“We can’t take care of these insurrections right now,” Zinc said is an emotionless tone. “We need to focus on getting to the city of Bakea.” 

“Agreed,” Argon said in a rumbling and raspy voice. “We will take care of them after the battle but thank you for telling us this little chameleon. You are free to leave.” The Archers then just walked away back into their tent, and left the little chameleon standing in the grass alone. 

As the little chameleon walked away, he wondered if the Archers are actually not fit to rule now, based on how they are. One is dead, two are indecisive now, and the other two haven’t been seen for months. Tungsten the Snake and Boro the Turtle haven’t been heard for so long, that he thought they were dead.  

This was not the case. No one has heard from Tungsten and Boro for months, but they were surely alive. The other Archers, busy with retaining order and control in their providences while also searching for their part of the ancient texts, had a blind eye to the sneaky serpent and mysterious tortoise.  

“They’re fine,” Zinc and Argon would constantly tell each other during the long nights that they couldn’t sleep through. “They are still warriors and can handle anything.” 

The fact though that two of the most powerful and recognizable beings were nowhere to be found in months, was extremely odd.  

What really happened with Tungsten and Boro, was that they were doing nothing but steadily hiking and looting stray villages on their way up to the White Mountains like the Oracle said they should go to. Boro decided that they needed supplies in order to make the climb up the icy slopes, and suggested they build up their rations before making the hike. Tungsten agreed, but something seemed strange to him about Boro. The once calm and friendly turtle turned rather sour, with angry outbursts followed by long moments of silence. Tungsten asked him multiple times along the way if he was alright, and Boro just responded with slow head-nods, and they continued. 

They left a trial of gore and mystery along their way; people wondered who did it, why they did it, but then the realization came to them that is was obviously the Archers. Maybe this was the tipping point to all of those people, but all of the villages the Archers raided up toward the white tower, led to them revolting against the empire.  

Tungsten realized this, but wondered why they did it. It was a stupid decision, but Boro was pushing for them to do it. 

“These will be the coals to our fire,” he kept saying in a mela tone voice every time Tungsten suggested they leave a village alone. The attacks were unnecessary and poorly taken care of, but Boro kept pushing him.  

When they finally reached the bottom of the mountains, they set up a little camp for the night. Tungsten, conflicted for the past couple of days, thought know would be a good time to question Boro’s strange decisions recently.  

“Boro, I musssst assssk you ssssomething. Why did we raid all of thossse villagesss?” Tungsten asked Boro through the flames vertical to the turtle.  

“Just…wanted…to…be…prepared,” Boro said in his original slow and mela tone voice.  

“I guessss, but Boro, I must be honest, you have been acting so sstrange recently,” Tungsten said, with an emphasis on the strange.  

Boro looked up, slowly with an expression of blank empty emotion. The face of no empathy.  

“Like…how..?,” Boro asked with a rising yet still slow voice.  

“Ever ssince the Oracle told uss that vission, you have become rather stressed. Yess?,” Tungsten questioned with all the concern and sincerity that he could muster at the moment. 

“Yes,” Boro said.  

“But why?” Tungsten questioned, “We raided all of thossse villages for now reasson. You knew we had enough ssuppliess, but you wanted to do the attacksss. Do you think something iss going to happen?” Tungsten asked.  

Boro was silent for a moment, then spoke with a bit more speed in his voice, something that doesn’t happen that often. “The Oracle gave us a vision of our fates, but I do not believe we are capable of filling the picture.” 

“I’m not following. Are you ssaying we are not fit to rule?” Tungsten asked.  

“Yes,” Boro said. “The warning The Oracle gave us was no more than a fact to exemplify our crimes in some way. We are supposed to go out to find these texts, in order for our downfall to be solidified.” 

Tungsten was perplexed and astonished but Boro’s statements. He had no idea what Boro was talking about, and he needed to get to the source of his conflict.  

“What makes you think all of that?” Tungsten questioned, “Isn’t that a bit irrational right now?” 

“Not at all,” Boro said. “The signs explain everything. The chaos in our providences due to our own lack of communication with the sleazily captains, is leading to our own kind resenting us. The Metal Mountains are gone, and one of our own is dead.” 

“Dead?” Tungsten asked. 

“Radon is dead. Dissected and cut open by forces of evil,” Boro said.  

“How do you know this?” Tungsten questioned.  

Boro sat there for a moment, and then took out his bone scepter. It gleamed and reflected shadows in the orange flames beside it.  

“Tungsten, have you ever heard of  Shili?” Boro asked as he picked up his scepter, twirling it around while keeping his eyes on it.  

“Yesss. I remember from our earliesst of travelss a long time ago,” Tungsten hissed. “We met an old Velu hermit. A coyote wass he right?” 

“A wolf,” Boro said corrected him, “he was just very small and bony.” 

“Yess, yess, I remember now,” Tungsten exclaimed.  “He invited uss into hiss tent, and began telling uss sstoriess of the beginning. He explained how after Mortem was unleasshed, a sspiritual essssence  sspread throughout the world, and it ssinked in the bodiesss of all living thingss.” 

“I enjoyed that belief at the time, the idea that we are all now connected through this essence, “Boro said, “but now I believe it is more of a virus then cure, a radioactive virus. Based on what we have seen throughout our lives, and if this hermit was correct, this virus spread with disorder. Certain beings somehow got more shili then the others,” Boro lectured as his eyes began moving up and down across the scepter. His licked his dry beak, while he shook his scaly head in response to the cold wind.  

“What makesss you think this?” Tungsten questioned. He started to hiss, his tiny tongue shaking rapidly also in response to the cold wind. His snake-like body shook and curled up, with his tail started to shake like a rattle-snake does. Molded pieces of skin that should’ve fallen off, still was attached to his body due to the cold.  

Boro shifted upward, and his ancient and tattooed shell adjusted with him, as tiny specks of frost flew off the points and sharp edges of his shell. “Why do we hate the Shamans?” 

“They are arrogant,” Tungsten said back with agitation in his voice, “They believe that ssince their kind ruled before Mortem arrived, that they sshould have divine right to rule in the next life. They picked up the Sshamans from their masssess to led them in their sselfissh goalss.” Tungsten hissed very loudly at the end of his sentence, the mere thoughts of the Shamans made him angry.  

“I don’t think the people chose them,” Boro said, “I believe they were chosen naturally, due to this Shili. I believe that the reason we hate the Shamans are on a spiritual level, due to the fact that they absorbed more Shili then we have. It enhanced their senses, gave them visions of the past, present, and future, and made them the wizards of their kind,” Boro explained.  

“That iss interessting, but what made you come to that conclusion?” Tungsten asked. 

“My scepter,” Boro said as he lifted it to its full height, his arm extending right over the fire. “The Shaman woman I killed, I still feel her presence in her bones. The bones are still scented in the Shaman’s high levels of Shili. Close contact with the scepter has allowed me to absorb some of this radiation as well,” Boro explained as he lowered the staff into the flames. Tungsten was confused on what he was doing, but when Boro lifted the staff out of the fire, he was surprised. The skull head-piece of Boro’s staff was glowing in a yellowish color.  

“The scepter has given me the visions. It has told me things, as it helped fix my slow speech. Ever since we saw the Oracle, it has been speaking to me, telling me the future,” Boro said as the yellow flames in the skull’s eyes began to fade away, and the light from Boro’s face darkened as well. 

“What sshall we do?” Tungsten asked. He was so surprised by this discovery, that he was now fully invested in what Boro was saying.  

“We continue up the mountain, and destroy the Tablets. Then when we arrive in Bakea, we destroy the Texts as well,” Boro explained. “Maybe getting rid of them will prevent our own deaths. We will then resign from our positions, and run off into the Waste Lands,” Boro explained.  

“But there iss iss nothing in the Wasste Landss. We would not ssurvive out there. Are you ssure about this,” Tungsten questioned.  

“My scepter told me, it told me that an Archer would survive the Waste Lands,” Boro said as he slowly but the scepter back beside him, and his arms began to retract back into his shell a bit. Tungsten stood there for a moment, his snake like body moving back and forth a little bit, while his tail waved around a little. He started to hiss quieter now, and shook in response to a colder wind coming northward. 

“You have put a lot of thought into thiss Boro,” Tungsten explained. “I’m not really ssure about thiss, for I have never experienced what you are experiencing, but if you really believe we need to do this for our own ssurvival, then I trust you,” Tungsten said with sparks of empathy and sincerity in his voice. 

Boro looked back a smiled the same sympathetic smile he used to make. “And I trust you,… my… friend.” The two then slept calmly for that night, before the chaos that would take place on the mountain soon. 

The next morning, the icy breeze turned the air from decent to freezing. It was so cold, that the air you breathed out turned to frost later the ground. The Zakaz had protected layers of skin, naturally built in through survival experience and evolution, and so the cold didn’t really impact the two. This wasn’t the case now, and this frigid atmosphere did give the two Zakaz the shivers and chills.  

Boro wanted to go right up the mountain in the middle of the day, in an immense blizzard that was forming on top of the mountain.  

“Boro,” Tungsten said, “we cannot go up there now. That weather would be impossssible for uss to fight back in if we find anything up there, and the Orange Rider would ssee uss.” 

“Exactly,” Boro said. “If the Orange Rider sees us, it would try to run or either pick a fight with us. In both ways, we would be confronting the Rider, either taking it out or chasing it off this mountain. Or, we can catch it off guard, and then strike. Either way, this weather gives us an advantage.” 

“That’ss very risky,” Tungsten said as his tail began shaking again. “Sshould we really take it?” 

“We have come this far already. We can’t fail now, or we will all die,” Boro said in a voice of desperation, as if it’s still the only option left. 

Tungsten didn’t know how to respond, his tongue hissing and shaking in reaction to the weather. He was growing more skeptical of Boro’s mysterious decisions, but his nervousness lowered when the Tortoise explained himself. Boro would go in a rise in his speaking, getting your attention, and then settled down with his rational explanations. Tungsten understood now that Boro is experiencing some radiation poisoning of some kind, but the true problem is how it would affect Boro on the mountain. Tungsten didn’t want Boro to get hurt, but he agreed with him as well, they needed to get on this mountain as quick as possible.  

Boro just stood there patiently. He shook off the layers of snow starting to pile on his carved shell. He smacked his dry beak-like mouth to the dry-cold air. Most of Boro looked calm, except one thing, and this concerned Tungsten. 

Boro’s limbs would quickly flinch back into his shell, and then quickly come out. This is usually a sign that the turtle fears something. Boro’s claws were also twitching a lot, and his once lazy eyes started to shake more. Boro was hiding something, it scared him, but what scared Tungsten was that he wasn’t telling him. Whatever it was, Boro didn’t want to tell Tungsten.  

Despite these strange signs, Tungsten ignored them, believing the true threat was only his irrational thoughts. This may be the case usually, but in this it wasn’t, and Tungsten’s thoughts were rational. What is about to occur on those Mountains will change everything, for the good and the worse. 

The climb began. Up through the oceans of white snow and jagged uproots of glaciers, the two climbed up the mountain. No trails to guide them, and no destinated stops to rest. Everything that happened here must be up to Boro and Tungsten’s own survival instincts.  The sudden snowstorms hit them, a blizzard that never sleeps. It blasted them on the walls of rock and ice as they climbed on it, spreading through every molecule of their bodies, freezing them to the walls. No matter what though, they must continue on their way up the ice peaks. For days the climbed vertically up the mountain, hoping and crouching along the pieces of ice and rock. One bright morning, the two crossed through the dark clouds, and reached a large slope of snow that led to the tallest peak. It was surrounded by towers of jagged rocks, and it was packed in by deep snow. They moved through the mounds of snow up to their chests very slowly. By nightfall, they reached the entrance into the peaks.  

They took a stone pathway through the tall walls made of stone, until they finally saw it. In the center of the rock walls, there was the giant peak. It was a long tall structure made of hardened rock and ice. There was a bit of a decline of elevation inside the stone walls and at the bottom, there was a small cave-like entrance into the peak.  

“Do you think the Orange Rider iss in there?” Tungsten asked Boro. 

“Yes..” Boro said. “Now it is time to see if the prophecy still has us in its favor. Now, it is time to see what our fates will be.” 

The two descended into the small trench from the stairway they took, to the entrance to the frozen pike citadel. The floor on the bottom was ice, frozen water so solid it could be just stone. Planted across the circular landscape, dead bodies were buried in thick layers of snow, waiting for their tired souls to be taken somewhere better. Some had frozen eyes, closed shut by frost and snow, or frozen wide-open, with their pupils expressing horror and fear. The bodies were purple, with blue veins popping out. Boro saw out of the corpses, a couple of rare types of seeds. Zakaz, but these weren’t any ordinary group of Zakaz, these were apart of Platoon 77. 

Platoon 77 was one of the elite Zakaz squadrons out of the whole military. There were trained to be perfect and matched in skill to the Archers themselves. There they were, all 12 of them, maimed and hacked to pieces all over the snow. These killing blows looked different from the other soldiers, these were done by no made weapon. The pieces looked ripped and teared apart like some animal did it, and the pieces looked fresher compared to the other corpses. Boro was concerned, but no scared either. 

“What could have done thiss to ssuch as powerful group of warriorsss?” Tungsten exclaimed astonished. He knew this platoon was more secretive then the others, but he thought they could handle nearly anything. Apparently, this was too much of a threat, which also concerned him. 

Boro looked at the remains, at the scars on the bodies. They were rugged and quick and deep cuts. He knew what did it,  but instead of saying anything, he left it as it was, shocking but confusing as well. 

Tungsten and Boro approached the entrance to the cave. There were bones ad skeletons scattered across the ground. They approached the opening when they heard deep breathing, and snarling. The snarling turned to growling. Tungsten’s eyes opened with surprise, and Boro’s eyes remained shallow, with a grim smile.   

…….. 

The Purple Rider was climbing up the same slope, when it heard a sharp howl from atop the peak. The Rider began running forward. The Rider has been following Tungsten and Boro ever since it left the Desert. The Rider ran up in a panic, because it knew something was wrong. 

While traveling, the Rider hid on a small hill while watching Tungsten and Boro camp. Tungsten and Boro went to sleep, and so the Rider decided to go to sleep as well. When the Purple Rider woke up, Boro was standing a couple of feet from it. Boro looked displeased, extremely weird for someone finding a intruder, but Boro then just walked back down to his camp. The Purple Rider then realized something, something bad.  

The Purple Rider, despite his powers to deflect mental manipulation, has been moved around like a chest piece for some unknown player. The Rider started to realize this over time, when he felt weaker in the presence of the Archers and got lost very easily.  

This was no ordinary disorder or manipulation; a particular entity was forcing the Rider to remain dormant in reality. The only thing the Rider could do was follow the two Archers, to try to find out the game-plan of this unknown entity. The Purple Rider finally realized who was the player, the Cult of Ram. The Overlevas were using their dark powers to win the battle in their favor, and Boro was their self-aware king piece, yet even Boro seemed separated. The Purple Rider understood the natural levels of emotion and reason to perfection, but Boro still seemed foreign to him. As if Boro allowed the game to flow, but he could do what he felt like, like a independent chest piece.  

Boro was planning something, and the Purple Rider knew it. The plague on the Rider’s body was removed, either because of the far distance from the Overlevas’s lair, or maybe some divine intervention (possibly the Velus’ spiritual crafts), but the Rider was strong again. Purple ran up the slope, onto the rock-steps into the rock walls.  

Purple was concerned about Orange Rider. The two were born with no gender, no powers, no inheritance, only to serve and protect the world. The two worked together to see the world grow out of Mortem’s devastation, and the fallout that tried to strike back. They were siblings, and one can not live without the other. They are connected, they feel and think for each other. Now, Purple can only feel the fear running through Orange’s mind. The Purple Rider dashed of the steps, down into the trench toward the Peak’s cave.  

Purple ran to the entrance, when the growling it heard before grew louder and louder.  

A giant beast lunged out of the cave, and strike at Purple, causing the Rider to jump to it’s side, and fall down into the trench. Purple looked up. 

Right before the Rider saw the ancient beast of terror, the Kinzhal. The Kinzhal has the head of a wolf, the body of a lion, and the wings of a hawk. The Kinzhal were known as the spreaders of fear and terror during Mortem’s campaign, and after the destruction, Mortem ordered them to all return to his realm, except for one. This one was supposed to be the sentinel to remain on the world, to make sure its creatures fulfilled its promises to Mortem. This Kinzhal was the Exception. The Exception had strange looking eyes, as if it were blinded by some strange magic, and then re-programmed to obey a certain master’s demands. Purple then realized that Orange possibly brainwashed this creature to guard the entrance, but now Purple wondered why the Exception was attacking it. Then the Rider realized that the Archers came first, and that Boro had his Shaman Staff. Boro corrupted this creature to distract Purple in order to get the texts.  

The Exception lunged at Purple again, and Purple rolled to the left again, causing the creature to slide down the ice, and crash into the rock walls. The Exception ran back at the Rider, its claws scratching and slipping on the ice, and tried to take a bite out of Purple. Purple jumped onto the creature’s back, and onto one of the ice peak’s ledges. The Exception opened its wings and started flapping up toward the Rider. Its claws tried to snatch the Rider, causing it to slash the layers of ice that made the peak. The Exception grabbed the Rider, pulling it of the ledge, and throwing it to the ground.  

Purple turned around to see the beast lunging at it again, and this time the Rider reached for its sword. Purple strike the beast, causing it to howl out in pain, and a line of blood started to drip from its body. The creature then smacked the Rider away with its tail, causing Purple to flip up into the air, and grabbed Purple and shoved it into the ice.  

The Exception went to take another bite out of the Rider, but Purple jabbed its sword right into the Exception’s hand. The creature roared out in pain, grabbed the Rider in its jaws, and started to shake the Rider around like a ragdoll. 

In this moment, Purple quickly used its blade to pierce the beast’s eye. The Kinzhal dropped Purple, as it began moaning in agony. It tried to reach for the blade, but immediately fell. Purple was breathing heavily. The Exception ripped through its clothing and bit right into his chest. He could feel the blood starting to pour out of his body, and some bones crushed from the creature’s jaws. Purple slowly and shakily got up and began running into the cave.  

…….. 

Boro and Tungsten walked through the large hallways made of ice. After Boro hypnotized the Kinzhal, the two went searching the caves. Until finally, they entered the main room. It was a large room that covered the entire peak itself. There were many jagged uproots of ice rocks scattered about, and on top of the tallest one a figure stood. This figure was holding something in its hands. It was a small chest, that was glowing with a bluish greenish color. 

It was the Orange Rider. 

“Orange Rider,” Tungsten yelled to him, “You have caussed too much trouble thesse passt few monthss.” He reached for his double-bladed staff. “Now, it iss time for your death.” 

The Orange Rider placed the chest on another peak, and slowly stood it again.  

It leaped off of the peak straight at them, and halfway through the air, Orange took hold of its ax.  

The three engaged in a combat. Tungsten and Orange were flying around each other, clashing with their weapons. Boro stayed stationary, made calculated moves, and delivered hard blows to the Rider. Orange was able to take a slice out of Tungsten’s skin, causing him to hiss in response. In retaliation, Tungsten pierced Orange’s robes, starting a trail of blood along the ground.  

The three moved up onto the rocks. Tungsten and Orange lunged at each other on the peaks while Boro stood stationary on the ground, knocking some of the rocks down along the way. Tungsten roared and slithered quickly toward Orange. Tungsten swiped at Orange horizontally, causing Orange to leap down and clashed into Boro. Orange tried to pierce Boro’s backside, but its sword couldn’t pierce his shell. Boro grabbed Orange by the neck and slammed the Rider into the ice.  

Orange retaliated by ramming into Boro, trying to stab Boro in the eyes, but right when Orange was about to do it, Boro lifted up his scepter again. Orange went black for second and started to become nauseous. 

Tungsten leaped at him and began wrapping his body around the Rider. Tungsten quickly slithered around the Rider as fast as he could, and then finally stabbed him right in the chest, straight out of his back. The Rider fell instantly, its blood started to color the white ice under them.  

The two heard footsteps coming.  

“Take care of the Rider Tungsten,” Boro said as he looked to the peaks, “I will get the Texts.” Boro quickly started to walk toward the peaks and began climbing them, while also taking a quick glance at the Orange Rider laying on the ground. 

Purple ran right into the room, to see Orange lying on the floor, and Tungsten lunging at him. The two began to fight, as Boro slowly climbed up the rocks to reach the texts. 

Purple went to grab Tungsten by the neck, to strangle or even break the snake’s neck, but then Purple realized something. His blade was still in eye of the Kinzhal. Purple realized in that moment, right as Tungsten began rapping his body around him, that the curse placed of him didn’t go away. 

Tungsten used one of his blades to slowly pierce through Purple’s mangled wounds, causing Purple to cry out in pain. Until finally Tungsten plunged his entire weapon straight through Purple.  

Suddenly, Tungsten heard a groan from Orange, but right before he could react, he heard Boro slip and began clinging onto the rocks. Tungsten slithered toward him to try to help him.  

When he moved forward, the Orange Rider quickly got up, and stabbed Tungsten in the chest. Tungsten reacted by grabbing Orange, and biting down on his head with his fangs, killing Orange instantly.   

All three fallen, while Boro just got back up casually. He looked back with a squint in his eyes and grabbed the chest.  

Purple with the remaining strength he had left, crawled toward the remains of Orange. Tungsten was still right beside him alive, but Purple didn’t care now. He just needed to get to Orange. 

“Brother,” Purple began, “I’m sorry that all of this happened. We were supposed to protect the world, but I guess we aren’t fit any more to do it. The devil lurks among us, and corrupts all that is sees, but don’t worry. I have found someone to see that light is brought back to this world. Believe me brother, believe me, and I will shortly be with you.” Purple finally let out a sigh of relief as his lifeless body fell on Orange’s. 

Boro slowly walked over to Tungsten. 

“Boro, I’m dead,” Tungsten said. “Pleasse, don’t fail the prohecy you told me. I’m ssorry, I’m sso ssorry this happened. I won’t be with you to the end my friend, but pleasse, let me ssee it.” 

Boro put the chest on the ground and opened it. The blinding greenish light surprised both him and Tungsten. Tears started to flow down Tungsten’s eyes. 

“That’ss I. We fought a lot for ssomething sso little.” Tungsten said as his eyes slowly closed, and the cold air from his body ceased.  

Boro stood there for a moment, his eyes now in a relaxed but squinting manner. 

“I agree my friend,” Boro said as he locked up the chest again and began walking out. 

“That is why the Zakaz must fall.”