Thirty-six days. That’s how long it had taken to travel from the colony, through the Bear Tribe, along the Western Road to the great mountain pass at the mouth of the Dragon Tribe border. While legends spoke of another, secret path through the mountains to the north, this was really the only entrance to the Dragon Tribe. The pass itself was wide and clear of obstacles, but the massive wall spanning its width from the side of one mountain to the other was intimidating. Only one of several portcullis gates were open, soldiers within checking travel documents and searching the people seeking entrance. As an outsider, it felt like they were entering a high-security prison.

  Rogue glanced at Commander Rapax, taking his cues from the seasoned warrior. Rapax’s lips had formed a tight line, his narrowed eyes scanning the gate ahead, the towering wall, and the manned battlements above. He was concentrating, preemptive counter-strategies formulating where survival instincts met suspicion in the creases of his forehead.

  Perhaps Rapax wasn’t the right person to take his cues from. Rogue looked around for new inspiration to find that Gravis was maintaining closer proximity than usual immediately behind him, and Moro and Adjutus had flanked him on either side. It was impossible to mistake the commanders’ defensive postures and the way they all passed information through brief moments of eye contact and the silent nodding of heads. By the time they’d reached the gate, all five of the commanders had moved into a tight, defensive, arrowhead formation around him. No words had passed between them. Rogue wasn’t sure if this was a planned strategy or simply an instinctive one, but it was suffocating either way.

  He sighed and decided that it was probably best to maintain a delusionally unconcerned smirk while holding his chin high and shoulders back. After all, it was the soldiers’ job to prepare for the worst while it was his job to present well.

  He snorted. Present well? The thought was honestly laughable. He was wearing one of three changes of clothes he’d brought on this trip; all of his clothes were exceptionally plain, and the journey here had been rough on them besides. This outfit simply had the least obvious stains and patches. Plans were in place to rectify their wardrobe situations once in the Dragon Tribe, but until then, this was what he had.

  “Papers?” a bored soldier demanded, and Rapax wordlessly procured a neat stack of documents from a waterproofed pouch. The soldier began a lazy scan and then frowned, rereading more carefully. “Which of you are from the Lion Tribe and which of you are from the Bear Tribe?”

  Rapax tipped his head to the dragon soldier and turned to his men. “Company, left face! March! Right face! Halt!” Rogue was shoved left as the lions separated from their twenty-five Bear Tribe counterparts that tribe leader Recht had absolutely insisted on sending with them under Captain Spahen’s command. “Lion Tribe, Bear Tribe,” Rapax declared which group was which.

  “You’re soldiers?”

  “Most of us. We’re escorting Qiangde Yudha from the Unified Colony, specially requested by His Majesty, King Ekata.”

  “Who?” the soldier asked, his frown deepening. Rapax sighed, taking back the documents to rifle through them until he found the relevant invitation from the Dragon King. The soldier clicked his tongue while reading through the letter, his eyes pausing on the seal beneath the king’s signature. “Which of you is Qiangde Yudha?”

  “Me,” Rogue declared himself with a low-commitment wave.

  “Uh-huh…. And the reason you’re being escorted by a bunch of lions out of military uniform and a bunch of bears in uniform is…?”

  “That’s just how things worked out,” Rogue said with a shrug. “The lions in our party are currently members of the colony — we don’t have a formal military, and the bears are here courtesy of tribe leader Recht.”

  “Right….” The soldier ultimately shrugged and returned the papers to Rapax. “Well, everything seems to be in order, but I need to speak to my lieutenant. Step to the side to wait.”

  Rogue witnessed the loaded eye contact between Rapax and his fellow officers and then another nod between Rapax and Spahen before being swept to the side, the soldiers around him maintaining their tight formation.

  “Moro?” he whispered to his left.

  “Hm?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Not sure,” came the distracted reply. Moro’s fingers were testing their grip on the hilt of his sword. Rogue decided it was best to not ask any more questions, but they didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. At least, his untrained eyes didn’t detect anything suspicious. The Dragon Tribe soldiers were still vetting travelers, standing at attention at their posts, or ambling along the wall walk between crenets above. The over-abundance of caution was premature… he hoped. Rogue exhaled a deep breath and shifted his weight idly.

  And they were kept waiting for a while. The soldier who’d checked their documents had returned to his post long before their company was acknowledged again.

  “Sorry for the delay,” a deep, booming voice sounded from somewhere behind them, and everyone pivoted to search for its source: a salt and pepper man who, for what he lacked in height, made up for in breadth. Barrel chested with thick ropes of muscle wrapping around his arms, shoulders, and down his legs, the man wore a uniform with three marks above his left breast. “I’m Captain Santaree. My lieutenant informed me that you arrived with an invitation to the palace. May I see it?”

  Rapax produced the paper in question, and the captain squinted at the words and seal at the bottom before carefully folding it and returning it to Rapax. “With a request like this, we are obliged to provide you with an escort directly to the palace,” he said and then raised his fingers to his mouth to let out a loud whistle.

  “We were hoping to do some shopping before heading to the palace,” Rapax informed Santaree while an assemblage of Dragon Tribe soldiers fell into formation nearby.

  “I don’t recommend it,” Santaree rejected immediately. “Not in this political climate. You’re walking into a kindling box. The mere suggestion of a spark will set the whole thing on fire. No. Whatever you need, it will be provided for you at the palace.”

  “What’s the situation, Captain?” Rapax asked.

  “Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” the captain dismissed, turning to inspect his own men.

  Rapax side-stepped in front of the Captain to insist. “If it’s not even safe to shop the markets, then I require tactical information. We need to know what to be prepared for.”

  Santaree took a moment to size Rapax up through narrowed eyes, eventually breaking into a sigh. “Surely you’ve heard the rumors by now.”

  “Only that the Dragon Tribe is experiencing civil unrest.”

  “That’s a kind way to put it. More like teetering on the edge of civil war.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “One of the military bases was overrun last week. Weapons, armor, supplies, everything: ransacked. They’re preparing for war. The signs are not subtle, but we can’t localize the rebellion without violating laws surrounding the search and seizure of private property. The population is polarized about everything, including modifying laws to allow the military to search the homes of citizens. Pretty grim. Everyday we are receiving new demands, new threats. I think those of us in uniform are all just holding our breath for things to… become violent, not that we’re looking forward to it. After all, we’ll be fighting against our own friends and families.”

  Rogue felt the bottom of his stomach drop as Rapax continued his discussion with the captain. Sure, he’d know he was coming here to try to prevent a civil war, but perhaps he hadn’t fully considered what that meant. War was always ugly, but civil war was particularly cruel. He couldn’t imagine a cause important enough to him to take up arms against his friends, or worse, his family… his wife. Perhaps it was ironic that once, years ago, he had met Callida on a battlefield. Remembering the incident made him smile, and Rogue realized after the fact that he probably shouldn’t be smiling given the current circumstances and conversation.

  “... on guard. My men will deliver you to the palace directly. The walk will take the rest of the daylight and all day tomorrow. Lieutenant Ishaara, the Doosara Aashray, I think, will make a good target for tonight,” Santaree was saying.

  “Yes, captain.” The lieutenant accepted the orders, arm snapping up in a salute.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Right. You’re losing daylight. Off you go.”

  Lions on one side, bears on the other, dragons surrounding them all, Rogue felt a little claustrophobic as the company was guided through the mountain pass and admitted through a second portcullis in yet another great wall on the other end of it.

  Through it, the pass opened up into a vast valley, the likes of which Rogue had never laid eyes on before. He wasn’t the only member of his party to stop and stare. From the mouth of the high mountain pass, he could see the entire valley (a fact that made the tribe seem much smaller and cozier than it actually was) with mountains forming the perimeter to the east behind them, distant west in front, and north to the right with an ocean to the south. Rogue had never seen an ocean before, and it was difficult to fathom a source of water so vast that it met the skyline before finding land again, and yet, flecks of sunlight reflected back at him all the way from the edge of the world. Equally foreign to him were the ports docking massive ships of unknown utility. Were this a tourism trip, Rogue would spend it on the beach exploring those ships.

  The pocket in the middle of these natural features was hardly less impressive: a single, tight metropolis, towering buildings in the densest areas — vertical architecture where there was no more room to expand laterally, great terraces carved into the mountains, a staircase for giants, to make room for lush crops and to support the crawling expansion of the city.

  The descent into the valley began, and the company was quickly swallowed by the city. Cobbled roads reached up to greet them, guiding them through a residential area with small houses and big gardens. Soon, the formula had reversed — big houses with little gardens, the space between each residence growing tighter with each step they took until the houses squashed together into giant complexes.

  By the time they were out of the foothills, the homes had all but disappeared to make way for a compact commercial area. Rogue wasn’t sure if it was the fading light or the political tensions, but the markets were almost spooky as streets that should be bustling with life passed by with only the sounds of their own footsteps for company.

  “Through here.” The Dragon Tribe lieutenant directed the group off the main road and down an alley that became a single-file dirt path shielded on either side by the unlit, windowless backs of two-story buildings. Lieutenant Ishaara skipped up a pair of stairs to knock on an unassuming wooden door, and a peephole slid open.

  “State your business.”

  “I seek the refuge of Dooshara Aashray that I may rest and live to honor my oath on the morrow,” the soldier breathed quietly.

  “Name?”

  “Kar Ishaara. Rank: second lieutenant to captain Santaree. 81st battalion.”

  There was a pause followed by the squeal of hinges to reveal a man in plain garb holding a worn book. “How many in your company, lieutenant?”

  “One hundred of my own men and eighty-three guests.”

  “It’s gonna be tight. We had another unit arrive not twenty minutes ago,” the man sighed. “We’ll manage somehow. Better come in.”

  They were led one-by-one into the tiniest of entryways that was really more of a landing for a downward flight of stairs than a foyer. Rogue had to duck under the short doorframe, Gravis bending almost in half and entering one shoulder at a time behind him. Following the stairs, the air became progressively colder until the space opened up into a great underground room that gave Rogue repurposed cold storage vibes where a military bunker had had a baby with a cafeteria.

  “Rogue, Gravis, over here.” Arum flagged them down, indicating a cluster of beds tucked in a back corner. “We’ve claimed these four bunks. Rogue, that bottom bunk in the corner is for you, Gravis you’re above him, the rest of us will fill these bunks. Hey, Rapax, should we invite Spahen to take the leftover bunk?”

  “He’s probably bunking with his own men, don’t you think?” Rapax said and then flopped face first into the pillow on his top bunk with a groan of satisfaction. “You can ask him if you want,” he mumbled through the padding.

  “Ok,” Arum shrugged and shuffled off to locate the bear.

  Meanwhile, Rogue was testing out the mattress of his own bunk, his back decompressing by degree as he stared up at the wood planks that would hold Gravis’s weight — or at least attempt to. Rogue smirked to himself in amusement at the intrusive thought of those boards failing in the middle of the night. It would be significantly less funny if they actually failed, but they appeared sturdy enough.

  He sighed and rolled to face the wall made of a cold hard material — some sort of concrete probably smoothing otherwise rough stone edges — while his mind wandered aimlessly and his fingers picked at a patch where the painted concrete was crumbling a little.

  Thirty-six days. Over a month of traveling, and they still hadn’t even arrived at their destination yet. He was tired. He could only imagine how tired Callida probably was. Thirty-six days was a long time to be left alone with five small children. It was also a long time to shoulder the leadership burden of an ever-expanding colony by oneself. Rogue sighed, rolling again to stare at the boards above him while regretting for the millionth time that he hadn’t more firmly insisted that at least one or two of the commanders stay behind with her.

  Not that he was particularly worried exactly. Callida was a survivor with enough willpower alone to manifest just about any outcome into existence. No support? No problem. By the time Rogue got home in however many more months, she would probably have a new small army of officers trained up and taking on the roles left vacant by the men he’d brought with him.

  But he missed her. And it was hard not to feel guilty leaving her on her own while he was practically drowning in support.

  He wondered about his sons. Did they miss him? Would they even remember him? How big would they be by the time he got back? What new things are they learning in the meantime? He hated that he was missing this time with them. Having lost both of his parents at a young age, that was one thing he’d never wanted for his own kids: absent parents.

  A twinge of guilt pressed on his heart and pricked at his eyes before Rogue found the motivation to stand up again and wander the underground bunker. Something smelled… edible, so Rogue followed his nose to where the cafeteria section of this subterranean inn-mess-hall abomination was set up. It was the combination of spices that most caught his attention. He was unfamiliar with Dragon Tribe cuisine, but the more the strange aromas mixed, the more his olfactory sense was satisfied and the more he salivated. Dinner was going to be a welcome distraction.

  While food was being prepared, Rogue strolled aimlessly around the crowded room and wove between the support columns holding the stone ceiling up.

  “Where are we, exactly,” he overheard Commander Baca ask one of the Dragon Tribe soldiers.

  “Dooshara Aashray. It’s part of a network of safehouses for personnel caught between military bases after dark.”

  Baca blinked a few times, processing. “Safehouses? Safe from what? Your people?”

  The soldier’s melancholy sigh served as a response.

  “So… so, wait. You’re hiding from your own people down here?”

  “There’ve been a few incidents. The higher-ups have done everything they can to cover them up, but a few soldiers were killed a couple months back. Just on the road. On patrol. Minding their own business.”

  “But… why?”

  The soldier shrugged and began picking at something on his fingers. “It’s pretty messed up. Orders to terminate nighttime patrols in favor of sheltering in these hellholes came after they had three attacks in one week. They don’t want us to become targets, they said, but I think they’re more worried about things escalating. You can only cover up so much, you know?”

  “Dang,” Baca muttered.

  “I’ve got a brother that cut me off shortly after this whole thing started. He’s never been especially happy with our tribe politics, and he definitely didn’t like it when I joined the military. I could see him supporting the rebellion, maybe even fighting for them. If this blows up….” The soldier trailed off, his eyes staring darkly at something on the floor.

  “I’ve got an older brother,” Baca related quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “And three little sisters. Well, they aren’t so little anymore. Two of them were married last I heard from them. Maybe the third is too now, for all I know.”

  “Been a while since you heard from them, huh?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

  While the two soldiers stood in solidarity, Rogue moved on, pondering as the weight of his mission bludgeoned his mind even more fully. He soon found himself on his claimed bunk again, sitting in the corner with his knees loosely tucked in front of him, just staring into a void somewhere in the direction of the bed next to his.

  “You doing alright?”

  Rogue startled, brown eyes jumping to where blue eyes were watching him thoughtfully. “Fine.”

  Captain or Councilman or whatever-Spahen nodded knowingly and helped himself to the other corner of Rogue’s mattress, leaning casually to stare into the same void Rogue had just been studying, a frown slowly darkening his face. “It’s sobering, isn’t it. I wasn’t sure what to expect when we got here, but all of… this is pretty hard to swallow.”

  “Yeah….”

  “We’ve got our work cut for us, it seems.” Spahan slapped lightly at Rogue’s knee and chuckled humorlessly.

  “We do?” Rogue frowned, confused, back at him.

  “Certainly. Once we get to the palace tomorrow, I figured we’d speak with King Ekata and possibly his court together so we’re all on the same page. If I were King Ekata, I’d hope to create a unified front between me and you and show my people that we’re on the same team to invalidate their demands to overthrow me. He’ll need your declaration of support at a minimum, and some sort of statement condemning violence wouldn’t go amiss. Of course, that’s just the beginning. I’m anticipating that you might have questions or require counsel, and it might be wise to prepare certain types of statements in advance. I’m at your disposal, whatever you need.”

  “Thanks.” Rogue glanced with new appreciation at the bear’s profile and smiled to himself. Spahen’s head, eyes closed, had tilted back against the wall behind him. He looked tired, so Rogue let him be.

  Callida really did have the coolest friends. Rogue didn’t know Spahen particularly well, but a councilman and military captain all rolled into one made for an incredible resource. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was his wife or the Bear Tribe leader (likely both) who’d ultimately orchestrated Spahen’s appointment to this mission for this very purpose. Always one step ahead of me. Even here, now, in this place, his needs had been anticipated weeks in advance, and he’d been set up for success. It was humbling, and Rogue did his best to take courage from the foresight of those much wiser than he.

  I am striving for a once a week on Wednesdays schedule while I warm up ye olde writing machine. Thank you, truly, for your patience.

  Trish