Genys just couldn’t figure out why—there were too many unanswered questions.

As the Commander took some secret rest in her quarters, she couldn’t help but mull over why wouldn’t anyone from Tinaria answer her? Where was Pyrn’s letters, his guidance? And in that case, why hadn’t the localized governmental officers been in communication with the Capitol either? They seemed to be conveniently oblivious to any rebellion even as it clearly brewed on their doorstep. Didn’t they know that if things went bad they would be the first targets, Yarvans loyal to Tinaria, didn’t they at least have an ounce of self-preservation?

The answer to that question was a little more obvious. After another day in meetings, it was clear that the local leaders just weren’t out of touch, they were completely useless—old men and women blissfully unaware. They could talk about city planning and new street developments for hours, but they seemed to genuinely have caught not even a whiff of the boiling unrest. It would make sense that whoever pulled the real strings of power had orchestrated the lack of communication as well.

Mindless, useless old puppets.

But her own messengers, where were they? She had sent various encoded messages, and not a single return report ever came. As a commander, it was almost claustrophobic. She was over a hundred centi-stades away from the rest of the militia, trapped in a native Yarvan city with a native Yarvan group of recruits and seemingly surrounded by native Yarvan radicals.

So why had the Senate sent her so easily to what obviously seemed to be developing into something of great significance, something potentially dangerous to the Republic? Why would they send her to an imminent struggle she was doomed to lose? Why would the Senate, the self-same Senate who ruled Tinaria and all its outlying states, send her to discredit its own positions of power and authority?

It made no sense.

As treasonous as it was to suppose, something wasn’t right. Genys had pushed the idea away for as long as she could, but it became more and more obvious that some malignant force high up was sullying the great name of Tinaria. But even then, a single plotter or a family line gone bad could be potentially understood. There have always been squabblings between the Senatorial families, but the idea of her simply being a pawn in these political games didn’t fit together logically whatsoever.

Tinaria’s politicians were lazy surely, but if the Senate were anything they were absolutely devoted to the expansion of their republic. Throughout more than ten generations, the diverse Senatorial families always agreed on one thing—that ultimate power should be held by Tinaria, and losing that power was not just illegal, it was sacrilegious. They might subtly vie for power amongst themselves, but they would never do anything to fundamentally undermine the source from which that power proceeded.

So why had all of them been silent? Surely if there had been a plot it would have been uncovered by at least one of the Senators. Genys tried not to remember how small she had felt standing on that mosaic floor under the gargantuan Senatorial seats. Their simple acceptance of her proposed mission had been perplexing then—now it tortured her.

And If I return to The Capitol? No, the thought could not be entertained, and not even because it would mean professional ruin and potential legal repercussions for her, but because Tinaria was the greatest Republic in all of history, and Genys would not accept that it had misstepped, she could not. If she was sent here by the Senate, it meant she was sent here for a reason beneficial to Tinaria, and she would not falter in the service of that great name.

And besides, abandoning Ullulia now would signal to the rebels that Tinaria could be struggling internally. It wouldn’t be true, but it would look that way. No matter what came, she would not position herself as that weakness. Jal Genys would not be the weakness of the Republic.

She could only continue her investigations, train and ready her troops, and hope Pyrn would be intuitive enough to recognize her silence and send reinforcements.

That is if something hasn’t happened to him.

Visions of apocalypse filled Genys’ mind’s eye. The Capitol breaking and burning—madmen in the streets—militia recruits being murdered and the Senators burning on pyres made of their own subjects.

She was quick to shake the images away. Her whole life she had been prone to nightmares, but they always dissipated as soon as she awoke. Her subconscious often seemed to assume the worst, and in fact, those very nightmares of chaos had been a determining factor in her joining the militia so young. She figured long ago that fears can be calmed by one thing and one thing only—power.

Something about these thoughts was different though. Ever since the night of the attack in the foothills, she had had visions of destruction—mental images of a fallen Empire. It was as if her nightmares broke their bonds and somehow gained the power to torment her during the daylight. It must be a side-effect of Thori poison, perhaps an intentional one. Waking nightmares were a much crueler weapon than a drooping eye.

That was the strangest thing of all—the Thori. Their economic involvement was almost certain. Every day Jik or one of her recruits brought her evidence that their weapons were connected somehow with the unrest in Ullulia. To what degree she couldn’t determine, but unless the Yarvan’s were suddenly masters in glitzcraft, it was obvious the strange enemies across the sea were more involved than they ever had been.

Which is another reason the Senate’s apparent inaction baffled her. The threat of Thori breaking to compact was not a light threat. Was it to hide it? Was the idea to bury any evidence of Thori involvement so as not to incite panic? Hitten certainly possessed the potential for delusion sufficient for a plan that ignorant, but the rest of the Senate came from tactical familial lines. They were plotters, and if there was any real evidence of the Thori acting outside the truce, they would send all power available to them to quash it, even if it meant doing so in secret.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

So again came the question, why was she here alone? What was she supposed to do? If she was a pawn what was the part she was supposed to play, and who was the one who had moved her into such a position?

No answer came to her. Nothing satisfied.

Yet, despite it, her course of action was clear. She could ponder motivations and intrigues all day, but her duty called her to a specific task and she could do nothing else but respond. Hopefully, Jik would discover something of additional help by the time he returned tomorrow.

Commander Genys groaned and lifted herself from the padded metal bench. Some of her muscles were still stiff from the disuse the poison had brought about. She stretched as best she could after such a short, unfulfilling rest and readied to go and move toward Ortni. There was something deep inside her that suspected it held the answer to all her questions, and that something grew louder and louder each passing day. At this point, it was really the only thing she felt sure of.

For some reason, it was not comforting.

----------------------------------------

Jik followed one of his companions through twisting Ullulian alleyways. Their route was carefully planned, and not a single soul appeared in any of the darkened doorways or in any of the dirty corners.

The idea was to get through the city and alert no one. Their group wasn’t small, but it also wasn’t sizable enough that any real commotion would be caused, still they wanted to keep their departure secret.

And they had weapons.

That was something Jik had wanted to ask more about, but he knew at this point he would be unable. He had strongly suspected Thori-made weapons were involved in the uprising, it had been a topic heavily hinted at by Genys, and the evidence found the morning after the attack had pointed toward it as well. Jik had established a few antecedent conversations in able to bring it up with some of his friends, but the moment never showed itself. Not before this operation was already underway. Either way, even without confirmation he was fairly certain.

Still, even knowing all that, Jik was surprised to see the gleaming, ivory glitzers pulled out of boxes labeled with fish and produce. It was almost like a dream. The suspicion of potential Thori infringement of the compact had been there for a while, but to see the weapons in person had had a different psychological effect altogether.

As soon as they were revealed, it was also glaringly obvious that he wasn’t going to get any information about them. As soon as the first box was cracked open the room went completely silent. There was a policy of secrecy here, even within this specific branch of the rebellion. He knew immediately that not hearing about it had been intentional.

Jik kept all his nervousness on the inside when they handed him one of the weapons. If seeing them up close had been jarring, touching one was borderline surreal. They were sleek and crafted in a way that suggested something organic—alive almost. Tinarian glitzers were rough, riveted, and not particularly pretty looking, the Thori weapons looked almost as if they had been grown into their current form.

And the mechanisms for loading and dispelling the glitz were interesting as well. It wasn’t the mechanical opening and rough slam to close that he had been trained with. There was a sort of elegant mechanical logic to these weapons. The way the glitz fit perfectly and the satisfying click of the hatch was something he hadn’t experienced before.

The glitzers were all he could think about as they walked through the city. He had, in his hands, the very evidence Genys and all the recruits had come down here to find. The one thing that would prove undoubtedly was that Tinaria’s greatest fears were realized, and there was nothing he could do but walk forward and obey orders.

Not until the opportunity presented itself to escape. But when would that be? How would he manage it? What kind of things would he have to do? Who would he have to betray?

Deciding to go along with this particular raid, or deal, or reconnaissance mission—whatever it was—seemed like the obvious action to take. Yet, now it felt like he was falling toward something fast, much faster than he had anticipated, and he didn’t know how to stop.

He knew they had kept him in the dark on purpose. They trusted him, but this was still a test of loyalty. Would he follow them not even knowing what he was following them to?

The group wound around a final street, and waiting there was an airship. It was small and thin, built obviously for speed and to avoid detection. The inside was old, and the smell of decades of glitz detonations and the lack of comfortable furniture affirmed his suspicions that this was one of the first flyers ever made. It probably had a new glitz engine under the deck, but besides that, stepping inside the crammed hold was stepping back in time.

This is one of the very ships that Tinaria used to subjugate Yarva. From these decks was dealt a death never before seen in the history of these lands. Hundreds of Yarvans mowed down by exploding glitz, blown to bits, and wetting the glowing grass with their blood.

No! Not subjugate, liberate, protect—provide for.

But as he looked around, Jik was finding himself harder and harder to convince. The men and women silently loaded themselves into place and clicked into the harnesses on the sides of the hold. It would be standing room only. Whatever this was, it was going to be more important than he first realized.

The doors slowly closed, and as they did the massive, ancient gears ground together. Pneumatics hadn't been invented until his father was about his age, meaning Jik’s suspicions about this particular airship’s age were correct. He was standing where the soldiers stood who had done what they did to his grandfather. The fact that it was real meant something. The cold metal under his feet… it made him somehow suddenly understand his father’s resentment.

No, he couldn’t have been wrong. The rebellion couldn’t hold the moral high ground. It was never that simple. What was national pride when it came to surviving? Life moved on, as it always had, and whether it was one government or another telling you what to do, what mattered in the end was that you were alive. Tinaria had provided for that more than most. Tinaria had saved infinitely more lives than it had taken. Tinaria was just, true. Tinaria was right…

Right?

But there was something else too—something in the energy around him. It was that same energy he had felt many times at the speeches and the meetings. There was something new, something worth fighting for, a group of people willing to give the rest of their lives as a sacrifice for something greater. It didn’t make any sense, so why was it starting to?

And then something happened. Something that blew all of the debate out of his head in one moment of paradigm shift.

“Hello, recruits. They call me the Shadow.”