Luneshale Pass fifty-first

Akhtar saw her moments before she began to speak.

Ashikaga. He knew her face, though not as much as he had known Siptah, as he had known Makono. And the words that left her mouth?

Akhtar cursed an internal stream of blasphemies to every god he’d ever known and then some. He asks for a normal, non-bloodshed party, and he gets a laugh in the face from fate. He squeezes so hard on the sweet morsel in his mouth that it pops out the other side, making the poor Fellahin serving him squeak in surprise.

He put on his best smile.

Excuse me, for a time? He slipped out of sight, into the darkness outside of the party. Out of earshot.

Then, he fell to his knees with a high, howling cackle.

For the rest of the party, he could be found grinning like a loon, giggling beneath his breath.