Half her recruits.
That was what was left.
Half of them still with her, half of them defected.
What would Pyrn do? Genys found herself asking. If only he were here I could step back and… but she banished the thought as quickly as it came. This was not the time to show weakness anywhere, not even to herself.
Once again she was running through the chain of events of how she had found herself here. The Senators, the meetings, Chancellor Hitten—none of it became any clearer than it had been all along. The only clarity came from her certainty that today was definitive. It was the day to quash this rebellion or die trying.
They had arrived outside Ortni.
The commander was standing on the command deck of the largest airship. It was nearing the small field they had identified for the purpose of landing—mostly assorted grasses glowing in those peculiar Yarvan colors, and a bush or two that wouldn’t impede their landing. They were about two hours outside Ullulia, and she had decided to leave as early in the morning as possible to avoid suspicion.
It wasn’t far from the town of Ortni either, maybe a half-hour march. It certainly wasn’t a bad place to temporarily stage her depleted recruits, and if they were lucky maybe any potentially dangerous individuals would overestimate her numbers anyway.
Jik had spoken about rumors and whisperings he collected around town. She had been confident in trusting him, it had been him that confirmed the Ortni rumors. The trust itself wasn’t personal, nor was it impersonal, it was simply a tactical advantage she knew she could use.
But now his messages had stopped. He had warned her of this, saying previously that he potentially got the drop on a sensitive mission. He had reported to her that he was going to try and find out as much about it as he could, so hopefully his silence meant he was lying low, and not that he was found out or worse…
Defected.
No, she wouldn’t think that, not yet, not when there were so many other things to consider. Besides, Jik hadn't known about her last-minute tactical decisions. It was after he left that she decided to move toward Ortni. If he was truly going to betray her—which she heavily doubted—he wouldn’t have any pertinent information anyway. And even then, the only information he could have gleaned was that they were moving the recruits in Ortni’s direction, by now, despite her efforts, that was obvious to all of Yarva.
So what is Ortni holding? If anyone is waiting for me here, let it be a ragtag group of dirty, untrained Yarvans.
That she could handle, that wouldn’t be a problem. In those circumstances, she could rely on the effect of the threat of the full Tinarian army descending down on Yarva in force. Their uniforms would mean more than the glitzers probably would. No, the rebels didn’t scare her, what she really feared was something else—something more.
Something like the force that attacked her in the woods. That left her with wounds not just to her eye and nerves, but to her confidence, and it was something that would never be forgiven. The moment she was certain of Thori’s breaking of the Compact, it was back to the Capitol and then came a different kind of preparation—preparation for not just a skirmish or battle, but for a war.
If I make it back to the Capitol.
The Commander shifted her weight as the airship landed and took a deep breath before throwing open the small railing gate and hopping down into the grass. Her recruits quickly assembled themselves around her in a half-circle that immediately made it painfully obvious how many recruits she was missing. It was altogether too small for her liking.
“Orders,” she said, and her voice cracked embarrassingly. She didn’t want to admit to herself that her symptoms were getting worse. It seemed that the poison had affected her more than she initially thought, but she wasn’t about to let anyone find that out. “Orders are to simply patrol the city and establish ourselves as the main policing force. We will then conduct a simple search of all inhabitants, dwelling places, and any reserves or stores where we may find anything of suspicion.”
She didn’t say ‘anything from Thori’ but she was certain her recruits suspected, which wasn’t a happy thought because there was a chance some of them also suspected why half of their former comrades were missing. Genys had to make sure that suspicion didn’t turn into sympathy. She had to remind herself that these were the ones that chose to stay, and that meant something.
Should I tell them? Should I say it? They probably already know anyway.
“I cannot emphasize enough the peaceful nature of this operation,” Genys said. “I also wish to inform what you probably already suspected—that your identity as cultural Yarvans was a strategic decision by the Senate itself. There is no other squadron in the Militia with that particular characteristic, and that is why we are here. We want the inhabitants of Ortni to trust us just as they did in Ullulia. We want all of Yarva to trust us. We are not here to alarm or threaten, we are here to investigate only, and to avoid suspicion.”
There was a pause. “However,” Genys imagined herself growing a bit taller, it was something she did to drive home a point. “Any evidence of open rebellion will be dealt with swiftly and decisively. I will give my orders as I see fit and you will follow those orders, understood?”
They responded emphatically in the formal Tinarian salute. It made Genys wonder for a moment what the difference was. Why did some Yarvans defect and others lay their lives down for the Republic? What was it exactly that made such a psychological difference in recruits like these? She made a mental note to ask Jik about it in detail later.
Jik whom she hoped to see again.
“Forward!” she said, and the recruits obeyed. They had been well-trained, that was apparent. They fell in line perfectly and made their way through the faintly glowing trees toward the village.
Soon cloudy things would be clear. Somehow, somehow it would all be clear.
----------------------------------------
Jil had always wanted to be a bookminder. She didn’t remember a time she hadn’t loved books—or adored them more accurately. Ever since she was very, very small she spent countless hours in her room at the top of her family’s house reading. Her sisters would go outside and play at being airship captains or members of the republic militia, and she would join them, but really nothing was better than at the end of the day retreating to her own little stories in her own little worlds. Besides, every adventure possible was between two pages of some book somewhere. It seemed to her that you’d be much more successful in tracking down the book than trying to find the adventure in real life anyway, there was simply a higher concentration of it in literature.
Her obsession led her to seek out formal schooling in the Tinarian Guild of Bookminding. It was an old organization, so old in fact that it had previously been the Royal Tinarian Guild of Bookminding.
She had tried out the Public Academy like her sisters, but she seemed to have a different kind of brain—that’s how her parents had put it anyway. The mathematics and sciences and tactics classes just didn’t seem to stick. History was easier, but that’s because it was mostly stories. In the end, narrative was the only way she seemed to be able to learn anything about anything. She was glad her parents let her transfer to the Guild, and It was only a few weeks after the ending ceremonies that she had her first apprenticeship at a large bookshop uptown in Izutis.
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Of course, that was several years ago, and in those several years, she had made a rather big move. It had been controversial among her family, but she knew it was the right thing to do.
She had moved to Yarva, and it was because of the Ris-alan.
It was a subject of general distaste in the higher ‘more refined’ circles of the Guild. The Ris’alan was never treated as literature, in fact, it was rarely treated at all. A loose non-cannonical collection of Yarvan folktales had very little importance in the context of the Tinarin Rebuplic. Some political scholars even called it potentially dangerous and called for its cancellation.
But Jil was in love.
The volume was incredibly difficult to find in Izutis, mostly due to those same political scholars lobbying the Senate to effectually ban anything Ris'alan related throughout Tinaria. What Jil had managed to find were references, anecdotes—snatches of stories. It was all the most wonderful thing she had ever read.
Monsters and heroes and living mountains—words and phrases intertwined with meaning, and at the center of it all, a flowing universe-blood that held the present, past, and future in one hand and adventure in the other.
Her obsession didn’t go unnoticed. She had been dressed down quietly and then officially when she hadn’t listened. Eventually, she was cast out of the Guild and her name was stricken from the records. Her parents hadn’t even wanted to discuss it.
Which is when she faced the biggest decision of her life—conform to the Tinarian pressures, including finding a different non-book-related profession, or leave Izutis altogether. The decision had been easy.
And plus, moving to Yarva was legal for any Tinarian resident. It might have been rare, but it was something she could do. Sure, she wouldn’t have access to any of her family’s resources, but that was the trade she needed to be willing to make.
And now, years later, it was more than a fair trade.
She loved Yarva, she loved the Yarvan people and their language and culture. She loved the small town and the plantlight colors and the fact that she didn’t have to look at a Tinrian flag draped over every corner.
There were cons as well though. Because of her bloodline, she would never be able to travel to Livrik and see the actual Ris’alan. That was a spiritual experience preserved for only those of pure Yarvan descent, and though it was a disappointment, she respected Yarva’s hesitation at letting Tinarians into their most sacred space. Tinaria unfortunately had a long historical evidence of lack of respect for those sorts of things.
But she would at least have greater access to various translations and copied manuscripts. She was in the Yarvan homeland after all, and if there was ever a place to do research on the Ris’alan, it was here. And then there was that other thing as well… the strange one. The thing she never talked about.
She had a secret.
And she was confident that after all these years, if no one knew about her secret by now, no one would ever know about it, and that was what she wanted, to be left alone with her books and her research and never to have anyone bother her by knocking on her door and upsetting the course of her life.
Which is why it was very, very concerning when an extremely tired-looking, beat-up shorter gentleman and something even smaller made of brass and bronze did in fact knock at her door and started asking her questions. At that moment Jil knew she had been caught.
“Um, excuse me?” Jil asked, speaking through the narrow crack and putting on her most innocuous voice. “What was it you said there?”
“We’re looking for a certain uh… well a certain location,” the little thing said. His Yarvan was very fluent but he had a strange kind of accent.
“What are you trying to say exactly?” Jil asked politely and then switched to Tinarian. “Do you speak another language? Tinarian perhaps?”
“Ah, Tinarian I speak as well, yes” the little man responded. “I wondered if you were Tinarian, your accent says as much.”
“My accent?” Jill tried to see more of the small little creature without opening the door. What does he mean my accent? My Yarvan is perfect.
“We just had a few questions for you,” the creature said. “It’ll be quick, we promise.”
Jil avoided their statement. “So you’re from far away, coming from Tinaria?” She knew that wasn’t the truth but she wanted to see what they said first.
“Um, well no a little further than that,” the thing said.
“Hindle, Sparvata?” she asked diplomatically.
“Not… exactly,” the thing replied.
She pointed at the tired man. “What about him? Looking for a specific book maybe? I am a bookmider after all.” It was all she could think to say, to delay the inevitable. Maybe he would be less assertive. He looked like he might be less assertive.
“Well, yes,” the tired man said. His demeanor shifted. He began to look less tired and more intense, focused, and even almost suspicious.
Uh oh. He’s not less assertive.
“I do have a question, now that you mention it.” The man was a tad bit taller than Jil had realized. “Did you happen to notice the fact that my friend here is two feet tall and made partly of metal… and also only has one eye.”
Jil felt her face grow suddenly hot. “It’s rude to ask personal questions to people you just met,” she said dismissively.
The creature shook its head. “You don’t notice anything different about me? Even when we directly call attention to it?”
Jil laughed uncomfortably. “Oh, look at that, we actually close early today! What a shame!” She quickly jumped to swing the door shut.
The little man stopped the door with his metal hand. “I think there’s a very specific reason why you don’t notice.”
“No idea what you mean!” Jil said, throwing her entire weight on the door. It didn’t budge.
“I think maybe you do notice and you’re pretending like you don’t,” the creature said calmly. “Because you’re not acting like someone who hasn’t seen something like me before, you’re acting like someone who has.”
“I’m just polite! That’s all,” Jil said. “The way my parents raised me, what can I say?” The pressure on the door lessened and she slammed it closed. With trembling fingers, she bolted it as quickly as she could.
They found me. I knew it would happen. I knew someday they would.
Jil pressed her ear right up to the crack between the door and the frame and listened. There was some more muffled speaking, but she still couldn’t make anything out. It sounded like the two outside were exchanging a few phrases in a language she absolutely didn’t recognize. “I really appreciate you two coming by today,” she said through the gap. “But I’ve just realized how much work I’ve got to get done and—”
There was the sound of grunting and then of something else, something whistling, almost as if it was—
Flying through the air?
In a cloud of soot and ashes, the small half-metal man exploded from her fireplace. The one eye glistened out of the center of what was now a furry ball of inky blackness. “I don’t mean to alarm you!” It began.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?”
“I really must speak to you about—” the little man froze. Jil, who had always tried to be prepared, rushed to her side closet, retrieved a very large glitzer, and aimed it exactly at the little creature’s head.
He put up his two little hands slowly. “Please just listen to me.”
“Out. Of. My. House,” Jil said, punctuating each word with a forward movement of her weapon.
“Well,” the one eye swiveled around. “Technically it’s a shop, isn’t it? The house portion looks like it doesn’t start till upstairs and—”
“Get out!” Jil said. “I don’t care what it is, it’s mine and you’re officially excluded from being inside of it!”
The little man sighed and walked toward the door. Jil unlatched the bolt and let him out. When the door swung open and the other formerly-tired-looking man saw the barrel of a glitzer pointed at him he immediately looked like he had never really been tired at all.
“I don’t want to see either of you here ever again,” Jil said. “I want nothing to do with wherever you came from.”
“We have a page of the Ris’alan.”
Jil blinked. “What?”
“Original page,” the not-tired man said again. He pointed inside her shop. “Just let us come inside and you can have it.”
It wasn’t anything necessarily to do with him. It wasn’t even anything necessary to do with the entire situation. There had been supposed original pages of the Ris’alan floating around since she was an apprentice, but the thing was, Jil suddenly had a feeling fill her up to the very top. And try as she might she couldn’t get it to go away. It was that same feeling you get when you’re at a secondhand book seller, and you’ve already bought everything you wanted and a few things you didn’t, but on your way out you see a tattered old copy of some novel and it tugs at your heartstrings and no matter what you do you know you’re not leaving without it.
Jil lowered her gun and sighed. “Come inside.”