Himal Gold: Murder and Intrigue in the High Mountains

By Ray Porter

In 1953, English journalist Graham Peters is sent to Nepal to cover the attempt to conquer Mt Everest. Kathmandu is full of foreigners, including two textile merchants, who upon reading of the successful ascent - and the New Zealander who has "knocked the bastard off" - do some exploring of their own.
Unfamiliar with the area, they misread their map and get lost. Stumbling through a valley, they find fragments of wreckage from a crashed plane, a German cargo plane.
In hospital they are visited by Peters, who sees their hapless story as a good background piece for his Mt Everest article. During the interview, they describe the wreckage they had found.
The article is published around the world, and is of interest to a lot of people, none more so than the German SS officer who led a Tibetan exploration team in 1938. Now living in Argentina, Kraus (aka Richard Smyth) sees this as his opportunity to regain the plundered treasure of Nazi gold that was lost on that fateful flight.
Back in England, Peters researches why a German plane may have crashed in Nepal, and begins to uncover the truth. He returns to Nepal to find the wreckage, to right the wrongs of the past, and to expose Nazi atrocities perpetrated in Tibet just prior to WWII.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ray Porter
• Release date: May 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463855027

Ray Porter

Raymond A. Porter: born in New Zealand in 1960, he grew up living on farms.Coming from a transient family, as a young boy he spent a lot of time on his own, exploring the farms and surrounding countryside. His time was spent climbing hills and tramping in lush native forests, which may account for his vivid imagination that has led to his writing career.Up until recently, he divided his time teaching martial arts, writing a regular column in a local newspaper, and writing manuscripts and screenplays. Now, he focuses on writing books, film scripts, and producing and directing films.

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HIMAL GOLD

Raymond A. Porter

Copyright © 2018 Raymond A. Porter. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the publisher.

Silver Ghost Productions

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my friend Laxman Basnet, who lives in Kathmandu, for challenging me to write this story.

And a big thank you to Graham Saunders who helped bring the story to life.

Prologue

The year 1938 was memorable in many ways, marked with many notable accomplishments and discoveries. The first ascent of the north face of the Eiger, Howard Hughes set a new record by completing a flight around the world, in just ninety-one hours. Oil was discovered in Saudi Arabia and DuPont announced the name for its newly developed synthetic fibre – Nylon. It was the year that comic book hero Superman made his first appearance, Daffy Duck made his animated film début, and Walt Disney's ground-breaking Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was released in the US. In the arts, the ballet Romeo and Juliet, with music by Prokofiev, made its first full performance at the Mahen Theatre in Brno, Czechoslovakia.

But, 1938 was also a year of darkness, as fascism was starting to spread its doctrine across the world. The bloody Spanish Civil War continued at a fast pace, as Alicante was bombed by rebels. The Imperial Japanese Army largely overran Canton, and Mussolini took power over the Italian military by being appointed 'First Marshal of the Empire'. That year, Adolf Hitler was Time magazine's Man of the Year. The civilised world gasped in horror as the Führer established the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, giving him ungoverned control of the German military machine. It marked the start of the Holocaust with the so-called 'Kristallnacht', the night of broken glass, as Nazi activists and sympathisers, encouraged by their Führer, openly looted and burned Jewish businesses. In the same year, Hitler threatened to unleash a European war unless the Sudetenland, a border area of Czechoslovakia containing an ethnic German majority, was surrendered to Germany. Even the most remote places on the planet were not immune to this twentieth century blight as the fascist disease spread its poisonous tendrils across the planet.

Little more than a dozen years later, with the Second World War over, 1953 was also a notable year across the world.

Joseph Stalin died following a stroke and the Korean War ended with the Korean Armistice Agreement. The Soviet Prime Minister, Georgi Malenkov, announced that the Soviet Union had developed a hydrogen bomb, Cambodia became independent from France and the European Economic Community held its first assembly in Strasbourg.

In the world of science and technology, Crick and Watson discovered the molecular structure of DNA, the Douglas D-558-II Skyrocket, piloted by Scott Crossfield, became the first manned aircraft to reach Mach 2, and a little slower, but more accessible, the first Chevrolet Corvette was built at Flint Michigan.

In the world of entertainment, the first James Bond novel, Casino Royale, was published and Hugh Hefner unveiled the first issue of Playboy magazine, featuring a centrefold nude photograph of a certain young lady, by the name of Marilyn Monroe.

For Britain, the year was perhaps notable for the end of sugar rationing and the British team finally conquered the highest mountain on earth. It was also the year of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II.

Chapter One

Unnoticed by most of the world, a sparsely populated region to the southwest of Baidang in Tibet had attracted some unwanted interest. To the south, on a clear day, the snow-capped Himalayas could be seen rising into the sky like a blurry portal to the heavens. The day in question, was however, by no means clear. The first heavy snowfalls of the changing season were not far away, and a cold mist had coiled over the dusty landscape waiting for the watery sun to eventually dissipate it. There was a small building, drawn from the landscape as if an invisible hand had modelled the cabin from the scattered schist in a moment of absentmindedness. Its original purpose was uncertain, possibly a shelter for the goat herds, or an outbuilding of the monastery that stood on the high ground overlooking the valley. For the present, the abandoned wind-blown building housed a group of German soldiers. They had driven across the bleak terrain, uninvited but without resistance, and now huddled from the cold for a brief break in their journey.

The sky was leaden, filled with something more than a natural gathering of storm clouds. It was as if the skyscape knew what work of infamy was about to unfold. To the north, a narrow rocky road wound its way across the barren land until it disappeared silently into the mist. Inside the shelter, the peace was disturbed by a snarl of wind, as it forced its way through the gaps in the stonework. Sebastian pulled his army greatcoat round his shoulders, the collar pulled up to his ears. If he closed his eyes and let his imagination run, he could almost grasp the lost days of his childhood. Days when he could lay in bed, waiting for the school day to begin, with the seductive smell of bacon tempting him from his slumber. A youth of just eighteen, his mother had sent him a package of home baked Lebkuchen biscuits, and he passed them round among his comrades who greedily shared the welcome bounty. The young men had little understanding of why they had been sent to this god-forsaken place, but the Lebkuchen represented a moment of comfort, a sweet reminder of happier times.

The infantry squad was one of a number of such expedition groups, scattered over the area. The Nazi regime had plans to create an empire and for that, the need to annex the Asian continent and to find access points of strategic stronghold was of great interest to them. Perhaps of more immediate interest however, was the need for a means of financing their current activities in Europe. In short, they had an interest in gold. Over the centuries the Tibetan monasteries had accumulated notable wealth, and it was this prospect that, for some, sweetened their surveying.

Sebastian held his tin cup of bitter coffee to warm his hands, while the sharp wind whistled about him. He looked up through the rising steam of his mug as an officer entered via the half rotten timber door. By a reaction that had now become second nature, the men stood to attention as Hauptmann Weiss leaned his weight against the timber frame and forced the door shut against the biting wind.

Finish your coffee… sit, sit. You have five minutes before we have to go.

Weiss was middle-aged, he had family links to the German military that stretched back to more honourable times. He had been destined to be a soldier from his birth and had accepted his lot with a measure of patriotic stoicism, rather than any real enthusiasm. Weiss knew what was likely to be in store this late morning, but it was his duty to follow orders no matter how distasteful. With a somewhat hooked nose, bitter mouth and dark eyes, that seemed to be tunnelled into his skull, he looked almost sinister. What he had endured over the past year was engraved on his features.

Five minutes and assemble by the truck, there is work to be done, and never forget that it is for the glory of the Reich.

He clicked the heels of his polished boots in a fashion that seemed to echo a different age, when chivalry was still not an outdated concept. He left his men, boys really, and returned to the wind and feathering snow that had just started to pirouette down from the heavy sky.

Very well men, you heard what the Hauptmann said… drink up…

But before Unteroffizier Gunther Scarff's words could be finished, they were drowned by an ungodly howl that seemed to echo from every direction at once and filled each man with dread.

"Was zum Teufel?" Vincent swore, as he spilled hot coffee into his lap.

There was no answer until Gunther suggested that it was just the wind.

There's no fucking way that was just the wind…

You have a better explanation perhaps?

Vincent did not and no one else spoke, but the sound of the howl was etched into their memories. It was almost the sound of a tormented animal, it might have been a wolf, but no man had heard such a sound from the throat of a wolf. It was deeper, more menacing. But, something much more than that… there was something primal, something almost human that echoed in the bone chilling angst of the sound. It was a sound that had the power to bring a grown man to his knees.

The officer burst back in through the door. He was pale and shaken, and spoke with a tremor in his voice:

"Come along men… Wecken sie sich… it's time to go."

Sir, what was that sound?

Weiss had no answer, he was no less troubled than his men, but as a Wehrmacht officer could show no fear in front of his men. He paused before answering, and then said simply:

There was no sound, soldier.

He spoke with a conviction that almost seemed plausible, if not for his bloodless face and trembling fingers.

Now move, before you are all put on a charge.

The men exchanged nervous glances and exited the dilapidated building with caution, not sure what abomination might be waiting for them. There was nothing there, nothing to have made such a howl.

Hauptmann Weiss had hurriedly made for the truck's cab and was already seated, apparently studying a map. His driver joined him, sliding behind the large wheel while the other men clambered into the canvas covered rear of the 3-ton Opel Blitz. They found seats on the empty packing crates that filled half the truck's floor space. While the last soldier pulled himself up wearily, the truck jerked forward as the driver dropped the clutch in his hurry to leave the place behind him. If not for Sebastian's strong young arm, he might have been left behind. As he glanced back, he thought he saw something, the blur of a figure, white against the rocky skyline. But, he could not be sure. Whatever had made the howl, man or beast, flesh or spirit, it was out there somewhere, and the sooner they got away from that place the better.

The Opel truck bounced along the narrow rocky road that was barely wide enough for the vehicle. It had been cut into the cliff by the Chinese, whose sovereignty over Tibet was still held in dispute by many Tibetans. One side of their road stretched up to a steep cliff face, and a merciless drop fell away on the other. The driver kept in low gear and made slow progress, churning up a cloud of dust that swirled with the dancing snowflakes.

Inside the back of the truck was general disquiet, the men were bounced about on the hard suspension as the Blitz cautiously made its way across the rutted track. A packet of cigarettes was passed around, but no one seemed interested in smoking. From the front, over the sound of the truck's engine, they could hear the officer's muffled voice directing the driver to watch for the edge.

"Gott im Himmel, take care you fool."

The men could detect something in the tone of the officer's voice, an apprehension that the perilous journey was doing nothing to soften. The men picked up on this and glancing at each other, found their already heightened tension growing. All except for Gunther. Nothing seemed to faze the man. Tall, strong as a bull with blond hair and deep blue eyes, he was the archetypical Aryan by appearance. But, his manner was one of jovial good humour. He was in his mid-twenties, originally from a farming family until the Depression ate away at their income. The father borrowed to keep their heads above water, but ultimately, the mortgage payments could no longer be met. Bit by bit, over the years they sold down their assets until nothing of value was left. They lost everything, the head of the family, the father, took his own life in a last desperate act and the remaining family, mother, sisters and two brothers, were scattered across the country to stay with distant relatives. Both sons eventually joined the military. Gunther Scarff joined the army, while his brother, Hanns, was accepted into the Luftwaffe. Gunther had already been promoted to the rank of Unteroffizier and his advancement in the army seemed assured. Gunther found the life of a soldier a relief after the pointless and soul-destroying struggle to make a living from the small family farm. He made every effort to make a success of his army life and sent what little he could afford, back to his mother and sisters. He stubbornly held on to a goal of one day, being able to buy the family farm back, and restore his family's fortune.

Without warning the truck suddenly hit a rock, the soldiers in the back lost their seats as the driver fought for control. The rock was one of the many that fell down from the cliff edge, especially after the heavy monsoon rains. Lodged in shadow and hidden by the swirling mist, it was unseen through the truck's grimy windscreen. The rock was hardly bigger than a decent sized loaf of swartzbrot, the sort that Sebastian's mother would bake three times a week. It was big enough, however, to lift the truck on its stiff suspension, unbalance the heavy vehicle and send it careering towards the drop. The driver stomped hard on the brakes, causing the truck to slither sideways, he wrestled with the steering wheel as he fought to recover control of the Blitz's momentum.

The truck finally came to rest with a rear wheel hanging in the air, over the drop. Hauptmann Weiss was almost in hysterics as he shouted orders to the driver.

"Scheisse, scheisse. Reverse away from the edge… schnell, schnell!"

With a noisy grinding of gears, the driver eventually rammed the lever into reverse and let out the clutch. The free wheel spun in the air, but there was no drive to the wheel that might have been able to pull them free.

Stop, stop, you idiot, you're making us slide closer to the damned edge.

Weiss cautiously looked from his side window, what he saw was of no comfort to him. The truck was now precariously balanced over the edge. Looking down, all he could see was a precipice that would have them all rolling to their deaths into the mist shrouded valley.

"Everyone out, schnell, schnell! Try not to rock the truck."

Weiss banged on the rear of the cabin, but the men had already found their feet and had jumped from the truck. The driver eased his way out and the Hauptmann followed. His own door would have opened onto a free-fall of 50 metres or more.

White and shaken, Hauptmann Weiss stood on solid ground, trying to regain his composure. He knew it was vital not to show weakness in front of his men, but his mind was a blur. Clear thinking was not really a possibility, but he had to say something to reassure his men.

Very well men, we find ourselves in a small predicament, no need for concern… Does anyone have a suggestion on how we might recover the truck from the edge?

It was Gunther who spoke first, he was not unfamiliar with having to free vehicles that had become stuck in the heavy wet clay that plagued his farm in the winter months. Often, he was able to utilise the muscle of one of the village Shire horses, but if that failed… there were always other ways.

Sir, if I may speak?

What? Yes, yes, if you have a suggestion Unteroffizier Scarff.

There is a block and tackle and ropes in the truck, sir. We could attach the rope to that rocky outcrop and pull the truck back onto the road.

My thoughts exactly. Good, good, I was wondering who else would spot the obvious solution first. Very well, get on with it Scarff, organise your men, we have little time to lose.

Weiss brushed the dust from his uniform and edged his way past the truck until he was out of sight of his busy men. He pulled a small hip flask from one of his voluminous buttoned pockets and took a mouthful of Schnapps. He leaned back against the rock of the cliff and looked up, into the sky. The clouds still hung heavy and ominously overhead. As he lifted his eyes, he saw a pair of Himalayan vultures that had strayed a long way east from the Lhasa River watershed. They circled the truck, as if it might offer something of interest. Their huge wingspan gave them easy lift in turbulent air, and a graceful elegance on the wing. Up close, he knew the vultures were ugly creatures, foul harbingers of death.

For Weiss it had been a troubling day; a too early start, the close call with the cliff edge… the bone chilling call of something too strange to be acknowledged. Weiss prayed that whatever had made that howl, had been left far behind. He took another mouthful from his silver flask and put it away out of sight. The alcohol burned his throat but gave him a little courage. The day was not over yet, and he knew, as an honourable officer with pride in his military heritage, that the worst of the day was yet to come. The man he was scheduled to rendezvous with was known to him, his reputation stretched far and wide.

It took the men the best part of an hour to winch the truck back onto the road. Luckily, apart from a little cosmetic scuffing, the truck was undamaged. They all clambered aboard, and the Blitz continued along the road at an even more cautious rate. After a few miles, they reached the top of a small incline, and laying before them stood a scattering of buildings that was, according to Hauptmann Weiss' map, the long anticipated village of Sachri.

The road was wider now as they approached what passed for civilisation in these parts. The truck cautiously gained speed, as they closed in on the village.

Stop here for a moment, Weiss ordered.

He pulled out his field glasses and peered down through the windscreen. Somewhat separated from the main village, he could see the rather modest looking monastery, the flash of a brightly coloured banner whipping in the wind, looked almost welcoming. Parked not far away, was an M12 Stoewer staff car bearing SS insignia. Painted in glossy black, and from the distance of a half kilometre, Weiss thought the car resembled a stag beetle that had scuttled out from some filthy crevice. There appeared to be two non-ranking soldiers, a senior officer, whose arrogant bearing could be seen even from this distance. Accompanying them, was a bedraggled local man seated in the rear of the open-topped car.

Down there, Grenadier, park the truck a little behind the staff car.

Yes, sir.

The Opel Blitz eased to a stop, through a cloud of diesel fumes, with squealing brakes. Weiss got out of the truck and marched up to the waiting staff car. He saluted the SS officer in the prescribed manner. Even out here, beyond the edge of the civilised world, the influence of the Führer was as inescapable, as it was annoying, to a man who had little sympathy for the politics of the Nazi party.

You are late Weiss; do you have any idea how long you have kept us waiting in this god awful place.

I apologise, SS-Obersturmbannführer. We had a little difficulty on the road.

It is a Sunday afternoon drive Hauptmann, if you can find difficulty in that, then maybe you have chosen the wrong career path.

Weiss clicked his heels and stood to a stiff attention.

SS-Obersturmbannführer Kraus was a stern man, his cheek was adorned with a scar that popular opinion lay at the door of a duel, fought with sabres like the hussars of old. Kraus had clearly survived the incident and he said nothing to deny the voracity of the gossip surrounding the incident.

It will not happen again, SS-Obersturmbannführer Kraus.

Kraus sniffed and got out of the car. He addressed one of his accompanying enlisted men.

Bring the local peasant.

Yes sir.

The soldier pulled the Tibetan man from the car, he seemed a rather reluctant participant, but was unable to summon any resistance. It was clear that he had been systematically interrogated until his spirit, along with several fingers and a rib or two, were broken. His face was swollen and bloodied, and he moved with obvious discomfort.

Kraus spoke in English. He was an educated man and had spent some pleasant months doing post graduate studies at Oxford. English was already becoming something of a lingua franca, and due to the long term British presence in the area, some of the more educated Tibetans could understand the language. It made the job easier for Kraus. Extracting information from someone, with whom one shares no common language, can be a tiresome business.

You… peasant…

He took the local man by the arm in an unnecessarily strong grip. His gloved fingers leaving further bruising on the man's slender arm.

You are certain that this is the place you told us about?

The Tibetan avoided eye contact with the SS-Obersturmbannführer. He looked up and saw in the distance a gathering of villagers who had come to see what was happening.

Answer me, you snivelling dog.

The man turned his gaze back to the dusty ground, he gave a simple nod of his head.

Good, your cooperation has been of considerable value to the Reich. You will be pleased to hear that your service with us is now completed.

The man could hardly believe his ears, was he to be released, able to return to his wife and six- month-old son? Able to resume his duties teaching at the small school he had helped build in the next village? He allowed his eyes to lift and saw SS-Obersturmbannführer Kraus make a nodding motion to one of his men. Kraus indicated with a jab of his finger, a position to the side of the cobbled path that led up to the monastery.

The SS soldier marched up from the staff car, saluted Kraus and took the unfortunate man by the arm, leading him to where the SS-Obersturmbannführer had indicated. Kraus had already turned his attention to the monastery before the crack of a P08 Luger echoed across the grounds, and the man fell silently, leaving a brief pulse of crimson blood to stain the dust, before his heart stopped forever.

Chapter Two

SS-Obersturmbannführer Kraus took the execution of the local man as if it were an everyday occurrence, of little significance, simply a trivial matter to be dealt with efficiently and then instantly forgotten. For the young soldiers who piled out of the Opel Blitz, such a scene of total disregard for the life of an innocent man was beyond their understanding. A couple had seen a little action in Spain, but most were still naive and 'unbloodied'. Weiss brought his men to attention and, with a grey face that seemed drawn with premature age, addressed them:

What you have just seen may appear shocking, but you must understand that the acts of the Reich may from time to time appear callous. Understand this…

Hauptmann Weiss paused, as if searching for the right words. He rocked back and forth on his heels, but knew in his heart that there were no right words.

You must accept, that what you have seen is just a small part of what is taking place. Only the senior officers have the full picture. We must accept their wisdom and follow their orders to the letter. This is what is expected of every patriotic German in the Wehrmacht. Nothing less than full loyalty to the cause of the Reich will be accepted. We are entering a period of great change for our Fatherland. What you have seen over the past few years, is just the beginning of our glorious resurgence as a great nation-empire. Our Führer has an understanding of these things that goes beyond the normal foot soldier's wit. We must believe in him and his senior officers, for only they know what must be done. It is their mission to make Germany great again, and if a few peasants must fall, then the sacrifice will not be in vain. Be proud and do your duty. Your duty is simply to obey your orders to the best of your abilities… Germany asks no more, and no less than that.

Kraus had paused on the cobbles that led up to the monastery grounds and had heard some of what Weiss had said.

Hauptmann… join me for a moment, he called across the immaculate, yet simple garden to the courtyard, where the squad was assembled.

An ancient iron bell stood suspended on a wooden frame, it was rocking almost imperceptibly in the wind. Weiss marched up to the SS officer, like a puppy called to heel.

You wish to speak with me Obersturmbannführer?

Hauptmann Weiss, I feel you are treating your men with kid gloves. They require no explanation of what we as officers of the Reich are doing. What you said was true, but the enlisted men of the Wehrmacht must simply follow orders, or face the consequences… do you understand?

Yes, Obersturmbannführer, I was just…

Or face the consequences, Hauptmann.

Weiss fell silent and came to attention.

Good… so, bring your men to the monastery, we have important work to do.

The two walked together up the path and then crossed through another small tranquil garden and into the monastery. Through the entrance, the monastery seemed embraced in stillness. There were a few monks seated cross-legged in silent meditation. A distant bell was sounding a deep and sonorous tone while the air was kissed by the delicate aroma of incense. The meditating monks appeared to take no notice of the soldiers; they seemed unwilling to lose the tranquillity that held them connected to the edge of Nirvana – the state of perfect quietude, freedom, happiness and liberation from Samsāra, the repeating cycle of birth, life and death.

The two Nazi officers looked up at the large plaster Buddha and might have felt like intruders in a place of holy sanctuary, if their sense of self-importance had not been so inflated.

This must be the place, Kraus said. Bring your men in and let's see what treasures we can liberate for the Reich.

Weiss marched back across the ornately tiled floor, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. He waved to his squad.

This way, Unteroffizier Scarff, assemble your men in here.

The soldiers marched up and fell silent as they entered the monastery. SS-Obersturmbannführer Kraus lifted his voice as he addressed the men.

I want this place searched thoroughly; I am reliably informed that there is much gold to be found here… Especially, I understand, a particular golden statue that is worth a considerable amount of money. Be careful not to damage what you find… some of the gold items will have greater worth as relics than their bullion value if melted down.

As the Obersturmbannführer's words faded away, the Lama appeared from an antechamber. He approached the officers with a bow and a serene, gentle smile. Beyond the smile, there was disquiet behind his dark eyes; the infamy of the Nazis had not failed to penetrate the seclusion of even his remote retreat.

Do you gentlemen speak English? I am afraid that my simple mind has not yet learned the intricacies of the German language.

Kraus looked at the monk with contempt. He pulled out his pistol and fired a single shot through the monk's head. He turned to his own men who stood protectively at his shoulder.

Deal with the others.

He nodded towards the other monks who had been meditating but had suddenly lost their serenity and were now standing facing the soldiers in a defensive posture. Their ultimate transcendence lay just seconds away, as machine gun bullets tore apart their flesh and maybe, opened a door to their next reincarnation; just another step on their infinite journey.

Get to work searching… anything of value… don't just stand there you morons.

The men moved forward, all except Gunther. He was outraged by what he had just seen.

We are good German people not monsters… how can you do such a …?

The SS-Obersturmbannführer turned to his own men.

Take him prisoner, a soldier who will not follow orders is simply a liability… take him outside and guard him until we are finished here. If he moves, shoot him.

He lifted his voice and it echoed across the monastery with a warning.

Are there any further dissenting voices?

No one spoke; the men did exactly what they had been instructed to do. Weiss's troops were having a lesson in being under the direct command of the feared SS.

Hauptmann Weiss turned to the Obersturmbannführer.

With all due respect, sir, Gunther Scarff is one of my best men. He was instrumental in salvaging the truck on the mountain pass… I trust he will be dealt with fairly.

Kraus seemed to ignore the Hauptmann's plea, he was looking round at the ancient building and waved his gloved hand in a dismissive gesture, as if he were batting away an annoying insect. Weiss's words went unacknowledged.

You know Weiss, these temples are almost impressive…

He took a few steps and tapped his knuckles against the large plaster Buddha.

Nicely made, but ultimately worthless. These people may be primitive, but their naive manner is not without charm. I can see no point in destroying more than is necessary to obtain what we need.

He turned on his heel and walked towards the door. It was colder outside, and a few delicate flakes of snow danced in the air, lifted by the wind that rose up from the valley. In the distance, as he turned his arrogant gaze, he could see a group of villagers gathered under the shelter of an old Chirr pine tree. They seemed to be assembling, disturbed and agitated by the sound of