The aroma of a calm morning dampened up the room, as it was poured into a cup. It wasn’t much in the way of comfort, the room was little more than a box of stone bricks, cast in dim candle light. No windows in sight, only gray depression. The aroma had no way out: within a minute, with both cups filled, the room teemed with it.

“Well gentlemen, here it is. Tea made from the finest forest fruits of Whitestream. I hope you’ll enjoy it,” Heidi said.

Gallie raised an eyebrow, a shady look on his brow. “Forest fruit? No mint of any sort? That is not how one treats their be-” A hand flew before his face.

“Forest fruit’s my favorite, actually.” Over seventy years of age, and he still hasn’t got the faintest clue of manners. How in the abyss that bastard managed to ascend to general, Justitia alone knows.

Heidi smiled. “I’m very glad to hear that. We’re still new to this whole tea business over here, after all.”

Sanctullator leaned over the table. “One of Justitia’s gifts to the people of this world. Enjoy it as much as you can. It wouldn’t be fair if we had kept it for ourselves, would it?”

A suppressed chuckle came from the corner of the room. “If that is what passes for a gift, then I’d hate to see what she’d consider a punishment. It tastes like hot water.”

The brown-bearded general groaned, raising the cup at his side to his lips. “Ignore her, will you? The point is, our nations are far more alike than you might believe. Justitian or Lokahnian, we’re ultimately not much different from one another, and this wonderful drink is one of many examples. It is actually quite amazing how rapidly your country has adopted it.”

Heidi bowed. “Thank you, General. There’s not many left who haven’t had a taste of it yet. Unfortunately, it is quite expensive to bring it in, which is why we’ve taken to producing some ourselves. It was quite a lengthy process to get the recipe right, though.”

Sanctullator wiped his mouth and beard down as he placed the cup back onto the table. “But it was certainly a worthwhile process, if you ask me. That is some damned fine tea.”

Gallie groaned. “I suppose it is not so bad, for forest fruits that is.”

“Hey, correct me if I’m wrong on this, but I thought we were here to discuss last week’s fighting, not to piss in the wind about tea.” Bellona drummed her fingers on the table, eyes fixed on the bridge of Sanctullator’s nose. “Is this seriously the crap you three keep yourselves busy with all day?”

“Yes, yes, you impatient brat. We’ll get to now, alright? Just a few more minutes, you’ll be on your merry way to the front, be patient.” Sanctullator buried his mouth under his cup. And Justitia almighty, will we both be ever grateful. “Have a seat please, Heidi. General Gallie, go ahead.”

The white mustache cleared his throat, brushing a few specks of dust off of his uniform. “Last week has been uneventful, to say the least. The front was all quiet here, a few skirmishes here and there notwithstanding. Our forces are well supplied and well motivated to face the enemy, should they ever dare break out of their mountains. Our men are well and capable of halting any such attempts, until the emperor sees it fit to send the Elite Legions over.”

Heidi raised an eye. “Elite Legions?”

“The best and brightest forces our empire can muster,” Sanctullator answered. “Doesn’t matter how tough the battle or how terrible the odds, they always manage to find a way. I’ve been at their helm quite a few times.Memories I will cherish for as long as time continues ticking.”

Heidi nodded along, a hand on her chin. “Interesting. How does one go about joining these Elite forces, though? I assume it must be an arduous process.”

“My audience, would you please-”

“You’d be mistaken,” Sanctullator said, shaking his head. “We judge based on proven prowess. Every conflict our country has tipped its toes into has seen new heroes rise. New heroes who bolster the ranks. Who knows, once this insipid heresy has been sent back to the dirt, we may just see the birth of a Whitestream Legion.”

More snickering came from the other end of the room, along with the rustling of someone fiddling with a roll of parchment. Sanctullator pretended to not hear it, signaling to move along with a waving hand. Just a few more minutes, Sanctullator… “Right then, quiet week so far. Is there anything else to mention, Gallie?”

The other general sighed. “Yes, that is what I was getting to. The calm of last week will likely not hold. Our Spectres have reported that the cultists are preparing for a new attack, and it will come soon. We must be on guard for it.”

The room fell silent. All four of its inhabitants were as silent as a mouse, motionless as onlookers at a public funeral. Eyes kept themselves busy studying the walls, or getting lost in the tea as it let go of its warmth. Candles flickered, a faraway bird crowed at the onset of the wind.

“Is that it?”

Sanctullator reached out for his tea, awaiting a response. Gallie bit his lip. “I’m afraid I have little more to say on the matter, General Sanctullator.”

“Come on now. There has to be more to work with. Do we have a timeframe for this supposed attack? Where it’ll take place, who will be at the helm, or any clues as to what we should expect?”

A dribble of sweat made its way down Gallie’s red forehead. “N-no. We have nothing to work with. There’s rumors of renewed fighting spreading through Westedge, and several training camps have been discovered in the Occident, so our Spectres say. But we know little more than that.”

Sanctullator set his cup down with ear grating force. “Damn it.”

Bellona shook her head. “Sounds to me like this offensive’s not so close after all, is it, old man? Just when I thought things were about to get exciting again, what a wonderful turn of events this is.”

Heidi bit her cheek, slight bits of a smile seeping through. “That is wonderful! Winter celebrations are only a few days away now, and our people desperately need a little break from all the doom and gloom hanging over town these days! I’m sure all three of you could use it as well.”

“Ugh...” A frown appeared on Bellona’s face. “Not a chance in the abyss, sister. My country needs me, and there’s dragons to slay. Far more enjoyable than baking cookies!”

Heidi had none of it. “Hey now… no need to be so crude!”

“Ladies, ladies,, no need for pointless squabbling.” Gallie got out of his seat, and walked in between the two. “For all we know, the Spectres might just-”

“Out the way, old man! You’ve wasted my time enough as is, now you want to get in my way t-”

“SILENCE, FOOL!”

The old man’s face flared. The insignia pinned to his chest wasn’t to be taken so lightly. The once indomitable Bellona flinched, as did Heidi a meter away. Sanctullator watched on, awestruck. Justitia almighty, didn’t think the old man had it in him. And goodness if he couldn’t have picked a better person!

“Step over the line again, forget about whatever excuses you got lined up. Corporal punishment would be a dream compared to what I’ll have done to you.” Oh, I bet it would…

“Yes, sir-”

“Say that again?”

“..yes, General.”

The old general retook his seat, the red draining from his wrinkled face. “There. My apologies, some situations are a little more… exhilarating, if you will.”

Here goes… Sanctullator corrected his posture. “Right, getting back on track here… You said the enemy’s planning an offensive. Yet, we know no details on the matter. They’re training. Our men are training all the time, that doesn’t mean much of anything, does it?”

Gallie shook his head. “No, I understand, but I’m afraid there’s little else to work with here. There doesn’t appear to be a concentrated buildup anywhere. Definitely not around Westedge, the lone stretch of civilisation in those forsaken mountains.”

Sanctullator sat back, and folded his arms. “That’s odd, though,” said Heidi, assured enough to break out of her silent prison, “I do not know where else they would attack. Lokahn’s west isn’t exactly home to a large population, not that I know of. Anywhere else, they’d spend more time fighting the wilderness than us.”

“All the better, I’d say. Let whatever beasts are out there do a number on the bastards, that’s less work for us.”

“But what if they do succeed? We’d end up surrounded!”

From the corner of his eye, Sanctullator witnessed a frustrated yet silent Bellona leave the room to little fanfare. None of the guards had the tongue to question it.

“No need to worry about that, miss Goodsprings. The finest cloudbusters are on our side. As are the finest men, the finest magic, the finest leaders, the finest strategies. No dragon’s passing through our skies anytime soon. We’ll lure em away from their hidey holes, where we’ll land the killing blow! There’s no chance of defeat!”

Alright, enough of this. Sanctullator groaned loud enough for the candles to flicker. “Indeed, no chance of defeat, General. Which is precisely why they won’t be falling for it anytime soon. The fact there’s no form of army gathering speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

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Gallie looked off to a wall, arms resting over his vitals. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking of, General.”

“Well, have you ever heard of an army materializing out of thin air?”

“No.”

“There you have it. What chance is there of this army-”

“It could still be out there somewhere. Our Spectres are doing the best they can, but damn me if those cretins haven’t given them the fiercest resistance. Perhaps those that made it back never got to see the slightest glimpse of it.”

Sanctullator shook his head. “There’s no other place an army could form out there, Gallie. Hadn’t Heidi already said something similar just now?”

The local leaned over the table. “Yes, I have. And I’m sure of it.”

Gallie let out a sigh. “Sure, that doesn’t sound far off into the realm of outlandish. But I honestly find it hard to believe. How else would they hope to get past our men, exactly? Even fiends such as them must understand that they would be throwing their lives straight down the abyss, do they not?”

“You underestimate the enemy. There will not be a grand battle, or anything of the sort.” Sanctullator paused to refresh his throat with a sip. “They’ll slowly creep their way through the forests to engage our hardpoints. They’ll try and open up routes to the east of the old kingdom again. That is what we should be preparing for.”

“Pardon me,” interrupted Heidi, ”correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t that accomplish little? Those ragtag bands roaming the countryside weren’t much more than a nuisance for our volunteers here in Whitestream, let alone how they would hold up against your men, Generals.”

Sanctullator held out a hand, eyes half closed. “Again, this is not about battles. This is about slathering their insurgency over the whole of Lokahn. They want to bring those troublemakers out east. Any man’s a good man by their book, I suppose.”

Gallie turned his nose up and away to the walls. “Stefan, you never said anything about troublemakers! This is-”

“...not such a huge issue, Philip.” Sanctullator stared the white mustache dead in the bridge of his nose. “Listen, the inquisition’s doing a fine job stamping out this insipid cultist zealotry amongst the reasonable, and the Civil Defenses are busy with the thugs. Don’t assume I haven’t been busy these last few years, yes?”

“...Understood,” said Gallie, cheeks a nascent pink.

“So, those bastards are relatively harmless. While they’re cut off from the main force, that is. Of course, we’ll have to work to keep it that way. Our men must be prepared to combat this kind of warfare, and we’ll have to start sending patrols through the wilderness. Heidi, if you could get your people to prepare for the task at hand, it would be appreciated.”

Heidi nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Sandtullator said. “General Gallie, I suppose you’ll be in charge of sending out the order?”

“As always.”

“Alright, that settles things, then. I’ll pass on the news to that witch myself, Justitia knows where she’s run off to. Well then, have a bright day.”

The meeting room emptied out. Sanctullator, feeling a bit exhausted, headed for the comfort of his office. Another hike through the dusty halls of Whitestream’s court. The light was dim, his soles were heavy. He didn't let loose so much as a hello to whomever's path he stumbled across on his way to sanctuary.

Here we are, home sweet home… ugh. “Guards, leave me, please.”

“Aye, sir!”

The guardsmen marched off, leaving their odour hanging by the door. Sanctullator shook his head, holding in his breath until the final screech of the door had been silenced. Here he was in his little rectangle, an old desk and a rickety bed as his lone company. Spare the occasional footstep, it was dead silent.

The general sat down by the desk, and fiddled with the stack of papers for a little while. Old reports, various letters from subordinates of all stripes and distances, all competing for his attention. Attention he didn’t have. He slouched in his chair, clearing his nose a few times. Oak leaves. At least they brought me my favorite candles, how lovely… Just a few more days, Stefan. Just a few more days.

Without much thought, he reached out to the smaller pile on his desk. A whole bunch of documents bearing seals of various ministries. On top lay a scrap, which Sanctullator picked up. No seals, no signature, no name of any kind. The handwriting wasn’t the best, either. But its place on the table was no error.

“Papa”

“Mama has taught me how to write. She says I am really good at it alr

eady, and that I make her and you proud. I’m writing to you for the fir

st time because I’m happy, papa. I hope you will come home soon. I

miss you.”

War had an inherent chaos to it. It was akin to being lost on a stormy sea, a piece of driftwood as a lone refuge from choppy waters. Wave after wave, one had little time to spare for anything but frantic wave sprang forth next. But there were moments. Precious moments, few and so far, never lasting all too long. Those cherished little moments, that reminded as to why they had descended into the chaos to begin with. Sanctullator covered his eyes with a single hand.

I miss you too, pal. I miss you too.

A knock sounded on the door. The general pulled his fingers away, tucked the little scrap onto the pile, sat upright in the chair, and laid both arms onto the table. “Come in.”

The door opened. It was Heidi.

“Hello there, General Sanctullator.”

The general raised an eyebrow. “Heidi Goodsprings? Why are you here?”

A sigh was returned. “I just wanted to see you, general. I’ve been a bit under the weather these last few weeks, if I were to be entirely honest.”

“Well what’s the matter? And why are you bringing this to my desk? I’m a busy man, you know that,” said Sanctullator, the corner of his eye affixed to his bed.

“It’s just… this whole mess has been wearing me down. When I first took a stand against all the thuggery, I didn’t expect to be sitting in your presence a few months later. It’s been so long since I could spend a few days with my family. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I was wondering if you could understand what I’m feeling right now, it’s all very strange for me.”

Sanctullator tilted his head up. “All too familiar for me. You ought to count your lucky stars you still get to see your family at all. I don’t have such a luxury.”

Heidi’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.” Sanctullator folded his arms. “They’re about a few thousand fields away in the Core, while I’m out here. The only way I’m hearing from them is through letter. Or rare vacations. Got three children myself. Youngest is barely four years old. Didn't get to see his first steps, nor hear his first words... You have no clue how much that gets to you. But someone had to do it. We’re serving a greater cause, Heidi. Remember that.”

Heidi remained silent for a while. “...Yes, I will.”

“Good. Is there anything else you wish to bring up?”

“No.”

“Farewell for now, then.”

Hanging her head, Heidi left the room. Sanctullator sighed, pulling a file from the large pile. Thank Justitia that’s over. Someone’s bound to pull the wool away one of these days, I can feel it coming. He read the papers, hoping to spark a little excitement for what was to come. But reading turned to skimming, which turned to skipping. The file went right back onto the pile, the dust barely having taken notice of the disturbance. Sanctullator shook his head.

“To the abyss with it.”

It was then that the door of the room unexpectedly flew back open. “How’s it going, General Furface?”

Sanctulator scowled. “Damn you, knock on the door before you barge in!”

Bellona shrugged. “No need. Not when it’s important enough.”

With a shake of his head, the general bashed an elbow against his desk, sending a few papers on a floorbound journey. “What is it now? Hurry up already...”

“Here, have this.” Bellona slipped an envelope over the desk. ”Caught wind of some guards scolding some scrawny courier earlier. Wanted to join in on the fun initially, but since it was for you and sooo important, I refrained.”

The general eyed the paper with an intense glare. The seal of the Weapons Research Institute was on it, alongside a bright red *TOP SECRET* mark. “Oh, they’ve come up with something new, have they?”

Bellona scoffed. “Watch, it’s going to be the ‘Super Flash Bomb’ or something stupid like that.”

Slow and steady, Sanctullator reached into the envelope. There were two papers inside: A letter, and a drawing of what appeared to be a thin cannon. The handle was made of wood; Sanctullator shook his head. “The abyss is this? I’d be surprised if it wouldn’t fall apart upon the first shot!”

“What is it, even?”

“Some sort of portable cannon. The name they’re using for it is ‘musket’.”