Darkness covers the sky, and the city that used to never rest turns off its lights to sleep through the nightmare of war. Ever since the threat of the Dogs became evident, it didn’t take long before we fortified the city. Every major street has checkpoints, and some homes and businesses are marked with a red X. Meaning the place should be burned down if the Dogs breach the walls to make fighting them in the city easy. Underneath, people work tirelessly building underground tunnels and vantage points to engage the Dogs in case they have the bright idea to tunnel into the city.

  Gone are the days of colours and culture, for the people of this city will forever live in fear of a potential siege. Merchants are fleeing the city and moving up north to set up shop to protect themselves as well as their stock. Even my father sold my childhood home and moved his shoe shop to Dalgina. It hurts to know your parents are running away from the home they made just to survive.

  From here, standing outside my room and looking out at my creation. I wonder if the smell of pastries, the lively music, and the sounds of joy will ever return? Or did I do the irreversible and kill the good that is derived from our capital? Doing more harm than any siege or war can ever do. The murder of our unique culture.

  I enter my quarters to find Olivia finishing up her art piece while packing up her art supplies. It seems she is nearly done with her portrait of me, though from the design she gave me a full set of hair and a fixed nose. A polite gesture on her part, I hope. The piece looks more stylish than the typical realistic approach most Cinari portrait artists take when they are painting. The eyes on my face look bigger, while other features are smaller in comparison. Giving me more of an innocent appearance.

  I dare say I am impressed with what a kid can make. The more I look into the portrait, the more details I can pick out. The smudge of dirt on the lower left cheek, fire being reflected from my eyes, my left hand forming a fist. Though what is incomplete is the position of the right hand and arm. From the sketches, it seems Olivia struggles to find something appropriate for me, a symbol that represents me as a General and as a man.

  Olivia smiles as she looks up and notices me. ‘Master Regali! How’s your day been?’

  ‘Just call me Volas,’ I correct her. She frowns, upset like she made a simple mistake. ‘Tell me, how is the portrait turning out?’

  ‘Well, I think it looks alright. It is hard to finish, though.’

  ‘Alright?’ I say with confusion. ‘It may be unfinished, but so far it looks spectacular.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She looks away with a soft smile; it seems my compliment, though small, means a lot to her. Maybe those are rare where she came from, which comes to think of it. They most likely are.

  ‘Tell me, what are you struggling with?’

  ‘I don’t know how to finish it, it’s just I don’t know what to do with your right hand.’

  ‘Why does it matter?’

  She pauses, thinking of an answer that makes sense to her. ‘Because it carries meaning. Your left hand means intentions, while your right means spirit.’

  ‘What kind of spirit?’

  ‘You know, your soul, I think. Ma would tell me that the right hand in paintings tells you a lot about the person.’

  I sit down on my bed, ‘really now? So why do you struggle with my portrait?’

  ‘Because I don’t know you.’

  Silence deafens the room. I don’t really know how to reply to that. Not like I blame her, we only know each other for a few days at this point.

  ‘You’re not like other Cinari,’ she continues. ‘You’re not mean… but you’re scary.’

  I chuckle at the reasoning, finding it slightly cute that someone will find me remotely scary. ‘Really, is it because I have long claws and sharp teeth?’

  ‘No, you talk when you sleep.’

  ‘Oh,’ I mumble to myself. ‘What do I say?’

  She shrugs, ‘Ma says it is bad to listen to people talk during their sleep. She told me you’ll have their dreams if you do. Good or bad. Mostly bad.’

  ‘Your mother is wise; it’s best to follow her advice.’ And for you not to hear what I say, it will be best if that is left ignored. ‘Still, you are doing a good job. You’ll even put some Cinari artists to shame.’

  Olivia smiles and shouts in glee. ‘Really!? Does that mean it will be hanged in the palace?’

  I rub her head, scruffing her hair. ‘It sure will, kid.’

  A knock on the door startles us. Olivia continues with her work in silence while I open it. To see Huson standing there. He glares at Olivia in disgust before returning his eyes to mine. ‘Let’s talk outside.’

  Hearing the seriousness of his tone, I step outside of my room and close the door behind me. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘The leadership of the North is falling apart, people are being pushed back, and they need to figure out what to do next.’

  For the love of the Gods! What is their problem now? ‘Ross, Toph, Smith, and Anderson can figure something out. I don’t see why they are having problems now.’

  ‘Anderson is dead.’ Huson hands me a scroll, which I can assume is the casualty report that confirms his death. ‘Ambushed while he was scouting, or so that is what the report will say.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Huson glances around before gesturing to me to walk alongside him. ‘Anderson is known to be a hard-ass, overly strict, and has a habit of enforcing discipline at a moment’s notice. Anderson even has a reputation for sending his soldiers on high-risk, but high-reward missions.’

  ‘He’s good, that is why I got him the job.’ I reply, unsure of what Huson is hinting at.

  ‘Well, that got him killed by his own men, and because of that, the other Commanders don’t want to step up and take his place.’

  I stop so I can lean on a wall; they can’t be fucking serious. There is a factor every General will have to grapple with, which is soldiers killing their own officers. It is an act of treason, but it is almost always impossible to incriminate anyone for that kind of murder. They are always pre-planned, and it is common for every soldier to not speak up or go against the murderer if the officer is hated or unpopular. If justice can be served, I have to put every soldier under Anderson’s command on trial. With how this war is going, it is unlikely and a waste of time and resources. We need them to fight this war.

  ‘So, let me guess, I need to set things straight and make the Commanders and the soldiers?’ I say to Huson.

  ‘They are scared shitless, and the soldiers are refusing to do anything until something is done. They demand a better Commander.’

  Of course, and it needs to be done now more than ever. Without a Commander, the defence of the North is severely weakened. If something has to be done, I need to straighten out the problem myself.

  ‘Send a message to them that I’ll go there and elect a Commander personally. The soldiers need confidence, and I need to enforce my authority. Them not fighting will only doom our operations. Write up some orders to make sure the roads are safe for my arrival.’

  ‘I’ll think of something. But that isn’t all of it.’

  I groan, anticipating the worst that will come. ‘Alright, Huson, what is it?’

  ‘The qwells of Ocinia have arrived, two hundred of them have just settled in Thalic.’

  Two hundred! That is about a fifth of their total military force, here, on this island. I’m not sure if I should be shocked or happy about the news. ‘That’s good. Is there anything else I need to know?’

  ‘Well,’ Huson pauses, unsure how he can phrase it. ‘The Qwell Commander is coming here in two days, and they are going to do it through the webgate.’

  Ah shit, a possible problem. The webgate between Thalic and Balborus is the last surviving portal connecting the two cities. I just hope they don’t break it while they walk through.

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  ‘I’ll meet the Commander before we head off, thanks for the heads up.’ I tiredly say before I head off.

  Huson waves his goodbyes, but I can tell that he seems worried for me. Perhaps my fatigue is becoming more obvious by the day, and I just hope it doesn’t get worse.

  Another day, another stay in the office. This time, with orders for soldiers stationed in Dalgina firmly in my hands. I rub my thumb along the necklace, its magic humming in my palms. Tomorrow I’ll do two things: have these orders sent out, and meet with the Qwell Commander. Both make my hands cold.

  But the orders I hold close, there is a lingering doubt over them. Perhaps I can win the council through other methods; maybe I don’t need to send those soldiers to their deaths. I just need to find something to prove my point.

  With a simple knock, Olivia opens the door wide enough so she can poke her head through. ‘Volas, Mistress Traya would like to see you.’

  While she is a painter, I do have the Dog conduct other simple jobs that Huson used to occupy. Simple jobs such as being a secretary and seeing who wants to meet me. However, as the war demands his attention to be elsewhere, be it to coordinate my soldiers or to find rest and solace with his companion. Huson needs to be sharp; I can’t have my best soldier get fatigued when he is needed. Especially since I need him to prepare the road ahead when I eventually meet my unwilling soldiers. I just hope he and Jack don’t conduct business in my carriage. Olivia, on the other hand, can guard my door and keep people out unless it is important. So far, she is doing well.

  ‘What does she want?’

  She listens to the woman from behind the door before answering. ‘She says it’s something about courier and messages.’

  Ah, I guess that might be worthy of my attention. But really, it will be a good distraction. I need to divert my attention away from this guilt. ‘Bring her in.’

  An eighty-year-old woman walks into my office. Her hair is short and greying, her suit finely made with the most expensive of materials. She carries a wooden folder. Clearly, she didn’t skip any expenses on filling out her paperwork. It’s funny to think that last year, most of our important documents used to be in scrolls. It’s the sort of rapid change, and blink and you miss it sort of deal. But far preferable and easier to store or carry around. But at times, I yearn for the unravelling of a scroll.

  She gives a subtle smile before introducing herself, speaking in a tone that is very formulaic and unnatural. ‘A pleasure to meet you, General Regali. My name is Beck Traya-Disivia, I’m the owner and representative of the Cinari Postal Service.’

  ‘The pleasure is all mine.’ I reply out of formality, ‘is there anything I can do to help you?’

  I suppose she came to me to ask me to defend her estate, to ensure mail can be delivered safely and securely to everyone across the island. I bet she will be bitter when she finds out that I have no one to spare. Most rich folk are like that, wanting to bribe me with wealth just so I defend theirs.

  Traya grins, ‘not at all, General. I came to offer you, let’s say, a deal of cooperation.’

  I lean back into my chair, ‘I don’t have much to trade, so business is going to be very limited.’

  ‘Far from the truth,’ she offers herself a seat after placing her folder in front of me. ‘You most likely know my reputation, I’m a businesswoman with drive…’

  ‘And the dedication to force competition out of the market.’ I finish her sentence, seeing that she is trying to sweeten the deal and perhaps our partnership.

  ‘Exactly, but this isn’t the case this time. We can both agree that the Dogs are a threat that needs to be dealt with quickly. Not just that, but I personally would like to stay in business and live to see my great-great-grandkids' tenth birthdays. So, our potential partnership is very personal to me.’

  ‘Okay, so what are you suggesting? So far, I don’t see anything of value to me.’

  She taps the folder, ‘this will give you all you need. A majority of my couriers are either ex-soldiers, mercenaries, former criminals, or anyone who is capable of fighting. You can say they are combative.’ She brings out her pipe and gestures if she is allowed to smoke inside. I wave my hand to give her permission. ‘The point being, they can fight, and I made sure they are equipped with the necessary tools to escape, evade, or kill if they need to. So far, they are really good at it, but there is an issue.’

  I raise a brow, ‘you need more people to run your operations?’

  She chuckles after taking a puff. ‘Oh no, I have a lot of money, General Regali. And there will never be a shortage of sell-swords in the world. Most of them are human to begin with. Granted, they will have to keep their helmets on to cover their ears and eyes every time, but that is a minor issue for the amount of pay they get. No, the issue I am dealing with is a safety and logistical one. Legally, my couriers cannot enter a military fort; we just can’t. Even if it is the best place to resupply and rest. In the end, my army of mailmen is limited to going to towns and cities. With how the war is going, it isn’t ideal.’

  ‘You want me to just give you access to my forts and outpost, so you can have an easier time delivering mail?’

  She nods, ‘well, yes, that is the idea. But that will be a one-sided arrangement, I think we can agree on that.’

  ‘That it is.’

  ‘So, this is what I propose. We will be your couriers. We won’t just deliver messages or packages to civilians but also to other military personnel. I will also make sure packages from the army will always be the highest priority and will be delivered first, no matter the cost or distance.’

  ‘There is a catch, isn’t there?’ I point out, unconvinced with what she is offering.

  ‘There is no catch,’ she admits. ‘I may have voted against Bill-285, but I was an adamant supporter of the defence initiative. We do have a lot of fundamental disagreements on a lot of subjects and politics, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter when we have our slaves knocking on our front gate. This partnership does give me control of the delivery of information and flow of messages, but it also means you have more boots on the ground to fight the vermin. Be it from your soldiers, or from me.’

  When she puts it that way, it doesn’t sound like a bad partnership. ‘Are you expecting any money out of this?’

  She shakes her head, ‘I’ll cover my own expenses. You just focus on winning the war.’

  ‘That deal is too good to be true.’

  Traya giggles, ‘darling. I have a lot of money in the world. More than you can dream of. Giving you my personal mailmen to assist with the war for free is a temporary expense on my part. I like making money, but I want to make money with us in charge.’

  ‘When you put it that way. It’s a deal then.’ We both shake hands to make it all official.

  Traya smiles at me after they smoke their last embers from their pipe. ‘Glad to do business with you, General Regali. If you have doubts or further questions, the folder will tell you everything you need to know. It will provide you with names of my employees, statistics to show how effective we are, and what is to be predicted if we do or don’t work together, among other things. I’m sure you’ll appreciate what I can offer.’

  I glance back at my desk to see the orders I’ve written up. While this new partnership can open up new avenues, it doesn’t mean I am still not at a disadvantage. What this interaction proves is that good things can come around, but just because they can doesn’t mean they will. In the end, I believe Tillous is right about what I need to do. Even if it will forever damn my soul.

  ‘Before you leave,’ I stop Traya. ‘Since we are now working together, I do have orders I would like to be delivered to the soldiers of Dalgina.’

  She grins as she takes the orders from my hands. ‘Will do, General.’ She says before exiting my office.

  Just like that, it was that easy. To pass those orders to someone else without a second thought. I even say it so casually. I stare at the door. I can run off to stop Traya from delivering the message. There should be another way to prevent their deaths and pass my bill. By the Gods, there just has to be another way!

  I clench the necklace tightly around my fingers. My legs are ready to spring into action to stop what is morally reprehensible. No, I can’t. I have to let it go. There is only one thing that is important in my mind, even if it damns my soul. Victory must come at any cost.