Once the droning had faded, Kalakia appeared from around the corner and walked toward his Generals. The five men stood silently for a long time in a state of heightened tension, until Kalakia moved to open the door to the upper-deck cabin. He held it in place while Lau, Lessio and Limbaba entered the luxurious space, each of them giving him a firm look on their way in. Scheffler paused before following, first glancing nervously at the fast disappearing coastline as the yacht headed toward the open Atlantic.
The interior was what Scheffler expected from a luxury yacht. The gigantic space had a loaded bar, enough leather-seating to hold a decent congregation and a round meeting table with leather chairs. Beneath his feet were timber floorboards and above were two chandeliers surrounded by a series of downlights scattered in a suspended ceiling. He joined the others at the meeting table, followed by Kalakia, who closed the door behind him and took his seat.
“This was your plan the whole time?” said Lessio immediately. “You should have warned us, dammit!”
Kalakia stared blankly at him.
“This is exactly what happened to The Council,” said Limbaba, shaking his head. “Do you not trust us, Kalakia? Are we expendable, like them?”
“You are walking down a dangerous path,” said Tamju Lau. “And you are taking us all with you.”
The Generals’ frustrations had festered for the entirety of the tense helicopter ride. Kalakia had startled the organisation with his latest stunt, acting with unprecedented impunity. As Generals, the four men could not tolerate such blatant disrespect. It was not passivity that had brought them this far. They lived in a kill or be killed world. It was into this world that they had now released their resentment, which hung thick over the table while the Generals cautiously awaited Kalakia’s reaction.
The table remained motionless. The Generals knew they had lashed out against a man who ordered people killed for far less. They remained frozen between the opposing pressure of their exasperation and their fear of their leader.
Kalakia looked at each of them one by one. When his stare met with Scheffler’s, his pupils looked terrifying, having expanded enough to fill his eyes. Fear shot through Scheffler’s heart, causing his jaw to tense and his body to lift off the chair. He scanned the area briefly and realised that he had not seen any members of Supreme Force on arrival. Kalakia’s protectors had not left his side once since Stirner’s betrayal. Was this it? Were they hiding, ready to storm the room and terminate the Four Generals the same way as their predecessors?
“You question my authority?” said Kalakia with a low voice, maintaining eye contact with Scheffler.
“We…” began Scheffler, his throat thick and lumpy. He was having difficulty drawing air, expecting a violent outburst at any second.
“I did not reveal my plan because you were unworthy of it,” said Kalakia, not waiting for Scheffler to complete his sentence. “And I shall tell you why. Each of you had an opportunity at the council of war to demonstrate your wisdom and insight, but only your lack of imagination showed.”
Scheffler shuffled in his chair while Kalakia turned his attention toward Tamju Lau.
“Tamju, you rightly stressed caution, but did not provide a path forward. Your scepticism cripples you. It must be tempered with decisive action.” Kalakia turned directly to Marco Lessio. “Your hunger for conflict continues to blind you. So far I have seen no sign of the cunning man whose wit drives his enemies mad, and whose love for his men earns their unquestioned loyalty. How carelessly you sent them into battle without a second thought.” Lessio’s face blushed as he bit his lower lip and looked away, while Kalakia shifted his focus to Daps Limbaba. “Daps, your loyalty and strength are powerful assets, but you continue to crave an outer voice to direct you. I know that you grieve your father, but you must let him die once and for all. Slaughter him, and feast on his remains, so that you may become him. His wisdom lives on inside you, but only if you dare to claim it. Or do you not trust yourself?”
Limbaba’s eyes watered up at the mention of his father, meanwhile Scheffler already knew what Kalakia was going to tell him. He looked down at the table to escape his leader’s all-seeing eye.
“Vincent,” said Kalakia, waiting for Scheffler to look up at him. “You have impressed me of late, but your self-doubt and impatience continue to sabotage you. Be mindful of them, and remember what I told you.”
Scheffler frowned and nodded. Kalakia looked over each of his Generals again one by one.
“You want respect?” he said, now raising his voice. “Earn it! Do not come to me with your wounded egos. Your position does not guarantee you your rights — you must earn those rights by proving yourselves worthy of your position. I acted alone because thus far not one of you has proven his capability at this level.”
A deep sense of shame washed over Scheffler, forcing his head to drop. Looking around, he noticed that Kalakia’s harsh yet magnanimous words had surgically and thoroughly deflated all of the Generals.
“You are here because you are the best,” continued Kalakia. “I hope you will put aside such pettiness and rise to meet the upcoming challenges we will be facing.”
The table remained silent for a long time. Each person escaped into their own mind, their stares vacant and contemplative. Kalakia said nothing further, as though daring someone else to step up and speak. Scheffler
