Sea Fortress N3

  Five days after the message reached Legion 23, a supply caravan finally arrived at Sea Fortress N3—the informal name soldiers had given to the massive stone fortress guarding the river bridge. That central command had chosen to adopt. The structure loomed like a blunt spear driven into the earth, its walls weathered by wind. Below it, the river flowed wide and steady, more like a lake than a river, reflecting the pale sky in dull silver.

  The caravan rolled forward slowly, wagon wheels creaking as they crossed the reinforced bridge. At first glance, everything seemed ordinary—too ordinary. That alone was enough to raise suspicion.

  “Hey, Rik,” Nick muttered from atop the gate wall, squinting down at the approaching wagons. “What’s that on the back cart?”

  Rik leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “That?” He paused. “Looks like… a cage.”

  Nick blinked. “A cage? Did they catch another goblin for the researchers? I thought Central already had more than enough of those.”

  Rik shook his head slowly as the caravan drew closer. “No. That doesn’t look right. It’s too tall for a goblin.”

  Now that he could see it clearly, the object made his skin crawl. It wasn’t the iron-barred pens usually used for captured monsters. Instead, it looked poorly constructed, hastily assembled from dark wood and metal brackets. Tall and narrow. Almost like a coffin—standing upright. A small grated window had been cut into the front, just high enough for a face to peer out.

  “Caravan, halt!” Nick called loudly, his voice echoing across the stone. “Inspection for goblins and contraband!”

  “No problem at all,” replied the caravan leader easily.

  The man guiding the lead wagon hopped down with the casual confidence of someone who’d passed through dozens of checkpoints. He was dressed like a typical traveling merchant—leather vest worn smooth with age, sleeves rolled up, hair streaked with gray. Not rich, not poor. Just someone who survived by moving goods from one place to another.

  “Hey—Nicolas?” Rik called out, recognition lighting his face. “That you? It’s been a while.”

  Nicolas grinned. “Rik! Thought you’d be stationed at Fort Two by now. Heard the assault advance slowed down.”

  “Yeah, they needed hands here,” Rik said, hopping down from the top of his guard post. “What about you? I heard you got reassigned.”

  “Was true,” Nicolas replied. “But then I got handed a… special delivery.” He nodded toward the cage.

  Rik glanced back at it. “So what is that? I saw it earlier, but it doesn’t look like it’s meant for goblins.”

  Nicolas scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know the whole story. Orders were simple—don’t let whoever’s inside out, keep them gagged, feed them protein bars and water, and deliver the package straight to Central Command.”

  He leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

  “You didn’t hear this from me,” he whispered, “but rumors say a messenger pissed off a legion commander. Badly. Got himself arrested.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Rik’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait—seriously? The commander actually did it?”

  Nicolas shrugged. “That’s what people are saying.”

  Rik let out a low whistle. “Well… those bastards usually have it coming. Acting all high and mighty just because they answer directly to Central. But still, are you sure you want to deliver him? You know why those people get those jobs.”

  “I know,” Nicolas said quietly. “But they sent one of their own messengers with us to receive him. Should be fine.”

  From behind the wagons, Nick’s voice rang out again. “All clear! Open the gate!”

  The massive doors of Sea Fortress N3 groaned as they swung open. As the caravan passed through, Nicolas heard murmurs from the soldiers lining the walls.

  “Hey, Rik, what’s with the cage?”

  “Yeah, heard about that—wait until they’re inside, I’ll tell you.”

  Central Command – Strategy Wing

  The caravan stopped before the inner gate leading into the section of the fortress housing Central Command’s field offices. Nicolas jumped down once more and walked toward the rear wagon, where a woman stood beside the cage.

  “Well,” he said, clapping his hands together, “this is as far as I go. I’m not stepping foot into that mess.”

  He patted the woman on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

  She sighed. “Yeah… didn’t exactly volunteer for this.”

  Silvy adjusted her uniform, straightening her jacket and smoothing her hair before stepping forward. Whatever was about to happen, appearances still mattered. With practiced composure, she approached the gate and announced her identity, her unit, and the purpose of her arrival.

  Grand Marshal’s Study

  Grand Marshal Herman Merz was already tired when the knock came.

  “Come in,” he said, not looking up from the reports spread across his desk.

  Supply caravans had been disappearing—routes between the fifth fortress and the front-line defenses had gone quiet. Some commanders believed it was a trap. Others argued it was simple chaos. Herman knew better. Chaos didn’t erase tracks so cleanly.

  His aide, Rian, entered quietly.

  “What is it?” Herman asked, finally lifting his gaze.

  “We’ve received a formal request from Legion 23,” Rian said. “They’re asking for a military trial for a messenger we assigned to them. Charges include breaking a sealed report and ignoring standard military procedures.”

  Herman frowned. “That’s… unexpected. Didn’t we select those messengers ourselves?”

  “Yes, sir. Every nation appoints one per legion. That’s why this is unusual.”

  Herman stood, the years no longer weighing on him the way they once had. A year and a half ago, he’d looked like a frail old man. Now, though still seventy, he stood straight, eyes sharp, presence firm.

  “Let’s hear it directly,” he said. “I want the full story.”

  Rian nodded and followed as Herman made his way toward the strategy room.

  Whatever Legion 23 had uncovered, Herman suspected it wasn’t just about an arrogant messenger.

  And whatever was happening along the supply lines—

  It was only the beginning.