prince-wen·:
.
“Karim!” Wen said, quite forgetting his manners in the face of his surprise. He had not know Karim was here – in this church, or in Paris at all. It seemed foolish not to have realised, since he was aware that at least some of Cordoba would be in attendance, but he had had a lot on his mind so hadn’t devoted much thought to Karim.
He wasn’t sure if he would call Karim a friend, exactly. Rather, Wen got caught up in the current of his wild adventures and wondered bemusedly how he was fortunate enough to have the company of someone so bold, so charismatic. There was a quiet voice in his head that suggested that the likely answer was simply that Wen never said no, but he tried to ignore it. Karim’s time in China had been brief, but memorable. “What are you doing here? I hope you have not decided to convert. This Western religion seems quite violent.”
From what little he knew of Karim’s religion, it seemed a far more peaceful belief to hold.
the surprise in wen’s voice made the corner of karim’s mouth turn up wryly, the tone not unfamiliar from the usual way wen addressed him. if yicheng was the hard, silvery scales on the back of the ming dynasty’s dragon, wen was the soft underbelly, coddled and coveted by the chinese. he’d been easily swept up into karim’s much stronger orbit during his time in china, usually following at his heels always ready to take a sharp jab from the cordoban’s barbed tongue. “well, I suppose I am doing much the same as you. loitering to the best of my ability and seeing where they keep that key to the blood of christ.”
a wicked smile spread across karim’s face as wen’s retinue cringed at his words. if there was one thing karim had loved the most in all his travels, it had been making the chinese nobles uncomfortable, breaking every rule they had and flaunting it just because he could. “what, do you not want a taste of the blood of a god?”














