“I’m not your errand boy,” said Gohvis. “If you want Jackson dead so badly, go kill him yourself.”
Vanderberk’s face flashed with annoyance. “It must be humiliating, having to follow a man who can’t even protect his most valuable assets.”
“The only thing that would humiliate me is working with a man who thinks himself my equal and yet still wants someone else to protect him.”
This time, anger arrived on Vanderberk’s face and stayed there. “This is not productive.”
“Then go and fetch your Salesman. I am not stopping you.”
Vanderberk only stood there.
“You fear the Sandlords,” Gohvis observed. “Admit that to yourself and then go find Jercash. I’m sure he will hold your hand for you.”
Rather than responding, Vanderberk’s eyes just glossed over, and he looked from Gohvis to Emiliana to Ibai.
The Monster didn’t seem to have anything more to say, either.
Unsurprisingly, though, Ibai did. “Hey, does anyone know where we are?”
No one answered him.
“I only ask because that valley over there sort of looks like the Valley of Peace, so it would be kind of ironic if you guys decided to fight here.”
“Who are these two?” asked Vanderberk.
“Not your concern,” said Gohvis.
“Well, apparently, you consider your business with them to be more important than rescuing one of your most valuable allies. So perhaps they are my concern.”
“I am not going to tell you again,” was all the Monster said.
Vanderberk nodded and took a deep breath. “I understand. This relationship of ours won’t be able to move forward until I adjust that attitude of yours.”
And Emiliana watched the sky darken.
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two: ‘Resound! Thy swelling regard...!’
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Hector certainly had his hands full over the next few days. Due to the almost complete destruction of Dunehall, along with Moaban’s geographical isolation, the city had been deemed unfit for civilians, and the Sandlords had issued a mass evacuation. More than three hundred thousand people were in the process of relocating south to Egas.