Secret Stronghold of Fu Manchu
Somewhere in southwestern China, Pan-Asian Empire
March 21st, 1940
In the dark throne room, lighted by flaming torches and adorned only with tattered old war banners of a hundred wars, the black-clad dacoit kneeled before the throne of Fu Manchu.
‘Master, I… I don’t know how to say this…’
‘You should know by now I do not punish those who bring me bad news,’ Fu Manchu almost whispered, his voice silken but terrible. ‘So have you erred in some way and this is your pathetic attempt at avoiding punishment?’
‘No Master! I just do not know how to explain this matter to you and not seem deranged!’
‘I suggest you try. Now. You’re testing my patience.’
‘Yes Master! I was with one of the perimeter patrols, high in the mountains beyond the northern valley. As we passed by an ice grotto, a… a thing, a monster came out and attacked us! We fired, of course, and I think we hurt it slightly, but it still wiped out the entire patrol except me. It went to some pains to disarm me without killing me, and then it.. it spoke to me! It said that it was a messenger sent to parley with you, Master, and that it would wait for you on the agreed upon place! Then it sent me on my way! I’m telling the truth, Master, I swear it!’
‘I do not doubt it, except for one thing – you fired first, then this monster attacked. Is that not so?’
The dacoit seemed to concentrate, trying to remember. ‘I… yes, perhaps. But Master, this hideous thing suddenly came at us, we assumed it was attacking! Are you saying it wasn’t?’
‘I take it this monster was a bit like a giant spider, and yet not a spider at all?’
‘Yes! Yes, Master! You do know of these things then?’
‘I do. You have done well, slave, and will be rewarded. Now leave me!’
As the dacoit backed away, Fu Manchu clapped his hands sideways, in order to not entangle the long polished nails. A black-robed servant, the Mayor-domo of the stronghold appeared from behind the dark red curtains at the back of the room.
‘Yes Master?’
‘Prepare my sledge and an armed party. I must travel urgently to the Shrine of the Gates of Leng.’
The Shrine of the Gates of Leng
The Mayor-domo shuddered, but bowed his head. ‘Yes Master!’ After a few seconds, he dared ask ‘…but why would you wish to visit that cursed place, Master? I worry for you!’
Fu Manchu arched a long, thin eyebrow in amusement. ‘You’re like a mother hen, old friend. Do not worry. I travel there to meet an old ally – a very old ally who apparently needs to speak to me urgently. I will be in no danger… or not much, anyway. I cowed them once, and can do it again if needs be.’