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If only he’d been able to convince Domingo to design military uniforms for him. What a colossal disappointment that meeting had been.

Ah well.

Even if the man hated him with a burning passion, Dozer did not intend to stop wearing his clothes. If anything, it made him want to keep buying them out of spite.

Next came the white button-down. He rolled up the sleeves and picked out a silky black tie. He forewent the jacket. Jaskadan was too warm for that.

Next should have been socks and dress shoes, but he wasn’t in the mood. Oddly enough, he rather preferred the idea of sandals, at the moment. They weren’t battle attire, either, but honestly, nothing really was. He’d most likely end up barefoot by the end of the fight, either way.

Then he was done. Fully dressed. But still no attack arrived. He eyed himself in the mirror, not really looking and instead just thinking. Waiting.

Curious. Did these assassins have cold feet? Or were they perhaps hoping for some sort of backup to arrive first?

Or was this all just in his head? Had he finally gone senile and lost his mind to paranoia, as so many were already proclaiming?

That might’ve been amusing, were it true. Made things simpler, perhaps.

Well.

He couldn’t yet tell where they were, whether they were near or far, inside the room with him or out. He only knew that the threat was imminent. That a clash of souls was soon to occur.

But if they wanted to keep giving him time like this, then he supposed he would just have to force their hand. Unless they stopped him, he was going to go back outside and start giving new orders to his men. The attackers wouldn’t want that, surely.

He made for the door.

Then he felt it. The presence. They were in the room with him now. Had they been there all along? He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t be sure. His eyes still couldn’t see them, but he had a rough idea where they were. On the other side of the room, behind him.

He stopped and waited, still undecided about how he wanted to handle this.

Clearly, these assassins were not the usual sort. They’d waited for him. And even now, they still weren’t attacking despite having every reason to. Perhaps they wanted to talk, first. If so, he intended to hear them out.