"What's going on around here?"
The commanding officer approached Malik, about to ask him who he was, why he was here, did he have clearance for whatever he was requesting from his people, but those thoughts died the moment he met Malik's gaze.
Golden.
Burning from within.
The man's throat clicked.
"S-S-S-Sor—"
"Check your archives for a Khamal, an Inquisitor."
He swallowed fast and backed away with a stammer.
"Y-yes, my Lord. One moment, please!"
He vanished through the back, the sound of keys jangling behind him.
Malik waited, and the station carried on, or at least tried to, constantly pausing to stare at him; even the criminals in chains seemed to do the same, somehow knowing of him.
Whoever was in charge of his smear campaign was good.
They knew how to do their job, and quite fast at that.
'...Roya's the one.'
A minute or so after that thought, the commanding officer came back, his breath shaky as he held a thick book.
