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He dragged his teeth along the bone as he sucked off the last bits of meat. His teeth tapped a knuckle as he dragged them and slid open his mouth just enough to compensate. Most of his kind didn’t much care for fingers, feeling that the meat wasn’t sweet enough to warrant the time it took to peel it from the bone. Magistrate Nagumo disagreed. The flesh was just as tender as one could hope for. The work was easy; you simply had to be smart about it. Don’t pick at it in little bites; consume it sequentially. Start closest to the hand and see it through to the end. That was Nagumo’s philosophy in all things.
Nagumo set the fleshless hand in a pile with the rest. He dabbed at his mouth with a blue silken kerchief and laid it upon the table. He stood from where he knelt and strode to his closet. He slid aside the paper door he had installed on his own and assessed his wardrobe. Something practical would be best. Several arrangements for the festivities tomorrow still had to made. The meat still had to be prepared, guards reassigned, and the human populace readied for the carnival.
He picked his blue kimono, the one with the ghostly gray and black coral print decorating it. It went nicely with his scales and was loose enough that it afforded superb freedom of movement. Nagumo slipped it over his shoulders and flipped his braided mane outside the kimono. He tied his sash tight and slid his twin katana between it and his side.
Nagumo had spent hours last evening disassembling his katana and cleaning their blades. He had never been one for bonsai. Their maintenance was without a doubt soothing, but he preferred more practical approaches. His katana were in far greater need of tending than a small tree. Magistrate Nagumo had never been terribly fond of vegetation either.
“Magistrate.”
Nagumo turned to face the quiet, feminine voice addressing him. It was Angela, his personal assistant. She was an impressively loyal and well-mannered Repentant. Nagumo wondered if the regular humans would have found her attractive. Angela was no more than five feet tall with short brown hair, and exceptionally thin. She adjusted her glasses and bowed to Nagumo. He bowed in return.
“What is it Angela?”
“The teams sent to capture Jack Lorenz failed. The terrorist’s den was detonated and we lost almost the entire complement of Mediators. Only four have survived and they are in critical condition with severe burns. They were taken to The Shoreline Center to be treated there.”
“Do you have the names?”
“Yes sir.”
“Please extend our condolences to the families of those whose lives ended. Send something pleasant to the four survivors and extend an invitation for them to come meet with me after they are healed.”
“I’ve already begun preparations should that have been your decision.”
Nagumo smiled faintly. He always looked best smiling. The curve of his mouth would align the black and royal blue stripes that trailed across his splendid scales, and bring harmony to his features.
“Very good. Today we need to begin preparations for the carnival that will begin tomorrow. There will be three days festivities for all humans, not just Repentant.”
Angela frowned softly.
“You hadn’t mentioned this previously.”
“I just received approval from Consular Mako last evening. I hadn’t been willing to wake you. The first two days festivities should be light and joyful. Something they will appreciate. You are at liberty to do whatever you feel will accomplish this. The third day there will be a gathering and a great feast, composed of the most recently collected terrorists. They are being seasoned today and will executed the day of the feast for the freshest taste…”
Angela smiled. She had begun to understand.
“…and to allow Mr. Lorenz time to arrive if he hadn’t already.”
“Precisely.”
“I will set myself to work at once sir. If you need anything, please do not hesitate.”
She bowed and Nagumo bowed in return. Angela departed just as quietly as she had come and Nagumo sighed. The next few days would dictate the course of the occupation. Rascal Jack needed to be stopped and soon. Far too many had died at his hands already.
Nagumo drew his blades and turned them in the light. They shone like the sun across the waters of the bay. Rascal Jack struck from the shadows at turned backs. It could not be allowed to continue. Nagumo would not allow his people to be the targets for a foul dishonorable monster like Rascal Jack anymore. He drew a slow two inch long cut across the backs of each hand with his blades before sliding them back into their sheathes.
His katana would taste blood soon if the seeds he had sown bore fruit. Nagumo supposed it was like tending a bonsai, of a sort.
And the pruning would be most delightful.
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