Masquerade by O.O. Sangoyomi

Author:O.O. Sangoyomi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

15

The Gilded District was in the southwest part of Ṣàngót. It was the capital’s wealthiest neighborhood. Glimmering gates guarded the sprawling compounds of Aláràá aristocrats, and the trunks of palm trees were wound in spiraling gold. The entire district seemed to glow as bright as the blue sky that arced over it.

The Gilded District was especially radiant today, as it was on fire.

Thick smoke obscured the area. A cacophony of clashing metal and screams came from beyond the entrance gates, marking the battleground that the district had been reduced to. The perimeter seemed secure; soldiers stood along the gates, charged with containing the chaos within.

Groups of men stationed outside broke their huddles to watch our approach. Àrmọ, who was at the head of our formation, leapt from his horse. My dismount was much less smooth; the long ride from the royal city to the edge of Ṣàngót had been my first time on a horse, and with my legs aching and my hands cramped from gripping the reigns for dear life, I hoped it was also my last time. I would have sooner marched on foot with the hundreds of soldiers who had followed behind us.

I did not know if it was Àrmọ’s confident gait or the dual axes hanging from his belt that gave his identity away, but as he walked up to the men, they snapped into salutes.

“Report,” he demanded.

A man with his arm in a sling immediately stepped forward. “Around dawn, the city guard received complaints from nobles who were having issues with their slaves. I had a few soldiers go in, make a light example out of one, and we thought that was the worst of it. Later, we realized while that was occurring, other slaves scoured the district, recruiting more to their cause. By the time we realized the full extent of the situation, it had escalated into a full-on revolt.”

“And my people?” Àrmọ prompted. “Where is my wife?”

“Er—well, I admit, I cannot answer that with complete conviction. But,” he stammered hastily as Àrmọ took a menacing step forward, “as far as we know, we successfully evacuated all the nobles who were present at the time. The only thing left now is to put down the rebels.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, my king,” another man added. A cloth was tied across his face, covering the eye with his Aláràá tribal mark. “The slaves were as organized as soldiers going to war, and more bloodthirsty too. We’ve managed to keep the situation from spreading to other parts of the capital, but the city guard was unprepared for a disturbance of this severity. We do not even have enough weapons for all our men. I’m not sure how much longer we could have resisted had you not arrived.”

Looking around, I realized the city guard was not just out here as scouts—they were also patients. Makeshift triages were dispersed throughout the grounds. Soldiers’ bloody wounds were attended to by men who were hardly in any better condition themselves.

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