". . . WHAT!?" roared the great Sumtagus Bogudus, king of Imasicia. His hand was gripped about the armrest of his chair so hard Masinissa wondered with an idle corner of his brain as to whether he shall break his hand first, or under the pressure begin to warp the very wood from which the rest is made. Judging by the king's rage, he suspected the latter. The spirits were a powerful peoples, and are attracted to the tempting emotions of anger and fear. They provide the man who is given to such feelings with unfathomable strength, and steal away his mind, turning him into a machine built to create death. That is the sort of humor the spirits revel in, cruel and uncaring are they, unless tempted with sacrifice. If the king were to lose his mind . . .

"As I say, Excellency," chirped the censor. He adjusted the glassworks about his eyes, humming in delight as he did so and jotting down some more notes in his ledger. "Shall I repeat the figures again, Excellency?"

"Yes. Do," Bogudus said. Masinissa simply stood there, under the enflamed gaze of his sovereign, hanging his head. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, his child self calls to him, commanding him to just concentrate on the king's shoes. Perhaps if he stared at the shoes hard enough, the man above them would disappear. With a little more wishful thinking, perhaps the entire court would just vanish into mist, absolving him of his public shaming. 

"Legii XLVIII through LVIII have gone missing, Your Excellency," said the censor, reading off the book. "Legii L and LI are partially depleted, in combat against the barbarians of the west, the rest have last been ordered into reserve, and thus theoretically should be in full condition." He shoots a withering stare at both Tingitus Gauda and Inumedigus Guba, both of which return their own. "Thus, the manpower currently missing in action totals . . . forty seven thousand . . . hmm . . . seven hundred and . . . let's see here . . . apologies, Excellency, the logistics are never so precise . . . eighty two."

"Ten. Whole. Legions." Bogudus said, enunciating each word. He stood up suddenly, throwing the chair behind him as he did so. It flew back with the harsh creaking of wood meeting with wood. In that moment, despite Masinissa being the taller of the two, he felt very small indeed, and the form of Bogudus grew in his eyes to rival the pillars themselves. "Praetor Masinissa?"

"Excellency?" Masinissa squeaked. His voice could barely be heard. The court's eyes were locked onto him, covering him in their judgement. 

"As of this moment, by my decree, you are dishonored. You have betrayed your command, as well as your kingdom. You are lucky you once served with distinction. Most traitors I behead." Bogudus' eyes shone dark in the bright room. Light itself seemed to be absorbed into his pupils, dark voids tugging, tugging at Masinissa's soul. "Now GET. OUT. OF MY SIGHT." Masinissa dropped to a knee, resigning himself from a lifetime of banishment from the court, and perhaps the city. By the sun, the moon, and the stars, he would consider himself fortunate to even remain within the kingdom. Then, a centurion burst into the room, panting like a dog.

"Apologies . . . Excellency . . . I have . . . a message," he says, between breaths. Two house guards rush to him, helping him to the meeting table. He plops down on a vacant chair with little regard for ceremony in the presence of his king.

"Go on then," Bogudus says, seeming to have completely forgotten his earlier judgement. They wait in silence as the messenger relaxes, and begins to breathe normally again.

"We have encountered Legatus Fesus Badis on our border," he said. "He bears grim news, and is recovering from his long travel. He tells us that the Surabhi have sent us a threat. Either surrender Praetor Masinissa or face the wrath of Surabhumi." If Bogudus was angry before, his face revealed to the entire court just how much angrier he could become.

"So, Surabhumi thinks they can send us threats!?" he shouts. "Surabhumi, who killed my grandfathers, and their grandfathers, and their grandfathers as well!?" The courtiers look at each other, fearful of what the king might do to them should they dare to enter their sovereign's line of sight. "You . . . find someone. Return a message to the cow-kin. They will not have as much as a single hair upon any Imasician's head. Should they come with their armies, we shall meet like with like tenfold. GO!" The messenger sprang up and rushed from the room. Bogudus then turned his eye on Masinissa. "And you . . . go into the forests. Take ten days labor, and seven days to seek the spirits' wisdom. Then, I want to hear everything you have seen of the Surabhi battle strategy. From you and your uncle."