Nguvu was gathering his great sword, his massive Silhouette body still humming with residual, destructive Ase. He felt invigorated. The Wood-Griot had been a threat, an agent of Iku, and he had removed it.
"Warrior!"
The voice, belonging to Ekon Amamihe, was sharp and resonant, cutting through the forest air like a drawn bowstring. She approached the scorched earth of the Western Courtyard, her steps firm and deliberate. Imani was riding on her shoulder, the Sand Cat's tiny form vibrating with disapproval.
Amamihe's Indigo Aura was churning, clashing violently with the smoky Blue Aura still clinging to Nguvu.
"Cultivator," Nguvu returned, his tone flat and defensive. "The perimeter is secured. I neutralized a Wood-Griot. It was a corrupted Fable—a danger."
"A danger that you provoked!" Amamihe stopped a foot away from the blackened soil, her eyes, the color of rich earth, blazing with controlled fury. "Look at this, Nguvu! Look at the violation!"
She pointed a furious hand at the crater where the cryptid had stood, the surrounding grass withered and grey.
"This is not a diplomatic victory," she spat. "This is an act of carelessness. You killed a living thing, yes, but you did so with such overwhelming, focused power that you left a scar on the land. That residue you left behind is Iku, pure entropy. It will take me days to cleanse the Ase here!"
Nguvu bristled. "My duty is to secure the State! My Role is to destroy that which is consumed by Iku! I used the Djed-Hedj to minimize the risk! Would you have preferred I wrestled it for an hour and let its corruption spread?"
"I would have preferred you followed the tenets of our faith!" Amamihe's voice rose, losing its Cultivator calm. "Our religion is Ubuntu! It is a direct and horizontal relationship with your neighbor. Nguvu, the earth beneath your feet is your neighbor! That Wood-Griot, however corrupted, was part of this ecosystem! You treated it as an obstacle, not a partner!"
She pointed a finger at the scar in the earth, then at Nguvu's own chest.
"You speak of Durability and Tenacity, but where is your Agape?" she challenged. "You cannot possibly love your human neighbors unconditionally when you treat the very Ase that connects us all with such callous disregard! That destruction was selfish, Nguvu! It was for your release, not for the security of the land!"
The accusation hung heavy in the air.
Selfish.
Nguvu's massive hands clenched around the hilt of his artifact. He felt the cold shock of Green Huenergy (Anxiety/Fear of inadequacy) mixed with his dominant Blue Aura. She had found the one philosophical weakness in the Warrior's code—the necessity of destructive force versus the imperative of communal love.
"My duty is to protect the people, not to philosophize with decaying foliage!" he retorted, throwing his sword onto the ground. The blade struck the earth, burying itself up to the guard. "I am a Warrior, Amamihe! I have a primal urge that must be expended! I cannot contain my existence without risk to the fragile structures you cultivate!"
—'He speaks the truth, little pillar. His heart is a drum of frustration. Tell him to apologize for the mess, not the principle.'— Imani's thought was clear.
Amamihe stepped back, taking a deep, calming breath. She saw the genuine anguish in Nguvu's eyes, the conflict between his Warlord nature and her moral indictment.
"I understand your need for release, Nguvu," she said, her voice dropping back to a frustrated but reasonable volume. "But you cannot solve our domestic tension by destroying the neighborhood. We are trying to build something here—a truce, a home... a marriage. You cannot build anything on Iku."
"Then show me how!" Nguvu exploded, his powerful voice echoing off the trees. "Show me how a Mass Monster with the weight of two clans on his shoulders is supposed to coexist with a garden-goddess who can grow trees through the bathroom floor! We are too much for this small house, Amamihe! We are two pillars forced into a single, fragile foundation!"
Amamihe looked at the blackened earth, then at the Warlord, his frame trembling with frustrated Ase.
"Then we will find a non-destructive compromise," she stated firmly. "No more killing Fables for stress relief. From now on, when you feel the need to destroy something, you come to me first. I will provide you with a target."
Nguvu blinked, amused and confused. "A target? What kind of target?"
Amamihe smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips.
"The Evil Forest is full of things that need weeding, Warlord. I will point you at the most invasive, rapidly reproducing, and morally corrupt patch of weeds I can find. You can destroy them, and I will be there to cleanse the Ase. We will turn your rage into fertilizer. Are you up for that, Ekon Nguvu?"
Nguvu stared at her, seeing a terrifying partner in both creation and controlled destruction. He felt a different kind of spike—not frustration, but a sudden, dizzying admiration.
He grinned, his white teeth flashing in his dark skin. It was the first genuine, unforced expression of joy she had seen from him.
"I am up for it, Ekon Amamihe. When do we start?"
Amamihe turned, walking back towards the house, towards her Atrium, leaving the Warrior alone with the smoking crater.
"Tomorrow,"
She called over her shoulder. "Right after you help me move some of the heavier ornamental stones for the fountain. You are, after all, my husband."