LOVE, LIVE, DIE | A TREASURE HUNT STORY

British Cabin, Coffee, and an Order

"He's dead." He said as he walked back towards his camp. Cliff was feeling quite unwell. It was evening time, torches lit the camp with slow, heavy whispers of soldiers. Grey clouds were slowing forming over them.

He sat in his cabin, drinking his coffee. The cabin was well lit too, a mixture of yellow lights shinning on blue walls and red carpets.

"Sir may I come in?" Brian asked Cliff. He nodded as Brian entered. Various paintings of kings and queens of England painted, hung in the wall. A set of vases were placed on some stools. They matched the blue color of the cabin, mixing well with the coffee like dizziness.

Brian played with the red carpet while waiting for Cliff to finish his coffee.

"One of our newest camps, you like it?" Cliff asked as he noticed Brian looking over a painting. Cliff stood up placing his coffee on the table, sending away the guards.

He stood beside him facing the painting. He sensed a confusion on Brian's face as he said, "This would be..,"

"Colonel Robert Clive, a true Colonel of the British Empire."

"You seem to be knowing much about him." Cliff said. He was impressed by his knowledge, not many soldiers know of the British History.

"Thank You Sir, but I was wondering why was I called."

"Ahh yes, have a seat please." They both sat opposite each other with the table in between.

"Drink a coffee," Cliff said as he called one of his soldiers and motioned him to bring one. The coffee came back in a minute. The soldier bowed and exited the room.

"I'm sending you Brian; I would like you to do a work for me." Cliff said as he pushed the coffee slowly across the table, "Drink it. Maybe the last coffee you'll ever drink Brian." He said as he leaned back.

"Sir I already drank my last tea when I came here to work for the British, so thank you but sorry sir." Brian said as he slowly pushed the coffee back to Cliff.

"Love your attitude Brian." Cliff said as Brian gave him a small smile. Attitude.

"What is this work sir...?" Brian asked.

"You along with the soldiers that Major had himself selected and send, will go out there to find the group that we have had information of leaving Sangla in their search for the treasure."

"A group from Sangla? The village we burned?"

"Yes, to create the fear. But it created the courage we didn't want and that courage," Cliff said leaning forward, "may harm us."

Brain stayed quiet for a second. "What would you wish to do with the group sir?"

"Kill them, keep one as a survivor. One you think that will be most beneficial to us and easy to break."

Brian stayed quiet for some time again, thinking it all over. A few days ago one of their soldier was found dead on the forest; he was not afraid of dying, but worried.

"Do this," Cliff said, "and I'll complete my promise."

Brian looked up. He saw seriousness in Cliff's eyes.

The promise. For which an Indian left all his life, everything and started working for Cliff. Not the British, not the Company but only Cliff.

"Are you sure sir you can find her?" Brian asked.

"I promised you Brian when you came to me. To find her if you serve under me till I ask you to. Consider this my last wish Brian, a last order," He said as he stood up and walked upto him. He placed his hand on Brian's shoulder and said, "the last thing standing between you and your sister. Complete this and wherever she is in all over India or on the Tibetan region she was last seen according to you, I'll find her. I know what it feels like."

Brain looked at him with utter seriousness. He has to complete the mission now.

"Brian... Don't fail this mission please."

"Yes Sir." The only two words he spoke. He got up to leave.

Cliff patted him on his way out, "I'm proud of you Brian. And thank you for what have you done."

Brian was on the edge of leaving when he turned and said, "That means a lot coming for you."

He bowed and went out. All his surroundings seemed to blur, seemed to clear off. He didn't care whether the treasure would be found or not, his smile clearly said the words he wanted to: I would finally meet her.

Its when the skies float slowly, grass below our feet flitter without our notice, rivers, trees, all of it pausing little by little in his experience. What does it take to pack your bags on a violet evening, leave the yellowness of torches to ride towards the brown-greenness of the forest. Either a straight up order, or acceptance that he may die. And strangely Brain was okay with it. Either death or his sister. Within the next few days, he will be closer to one of them than ever.

That's the way he left the camp with soldiers following his lead.

The grey clouds on violet skies didn't care, they kept floating.