Lion Head Mesa blood-gift

The king had braced an arm to the wall on the side of the red man’s face, leaning in closely with a pierce, probing gaze.

“Amani,” was whispered with doubt, as if the realization could not truly be trusted. The king held his stance.

“What would take you away from my brother’s kingdom?” He crossed. Akashingo had called for soldiers. This Tanutamani was not, for he was regaled for a much more refined set of skills; an occupation which made him distinctly difficult to part with.