Jik’s world was upside-down.

Seeing High General Pyrn at the head of the Yarvan insurrection had fully thrown him off balance. He had always held Pyrn in high esteem—the highest. Being the head figure of the Republic Militia, all Jik’s feelings of loyalty and devotion for Tinaria had grown around the central image of the Grizzled, competent general. Pyrn had not only been his leader, but he had been a sort of celebrity.

It was Pyrn awarding medals in Jik’s daydreams, leading the glorious republic charges, and—even in the deepest and most hidden fantasies—it was Pyrn personally telling Jik he was a worthy soldier.

So to see him here, secretly—for who knows how long—not only participating in but leading the rebellion against the republic… it sat as an acrid weight in Jik’s stomach.

Jik remembered the words spoken by his father, and not merely a single time, “Pyrn is Tinarian through and through and I hate him through and through.” When the grandson of Hyriz The Butcher had been promoted to High General over the Republic Militia, Jik’s father hadn’t been quiet about his opinions. In fact, one of the reasons the young recruit had respected the general so much was partly because it was so contrary to what he had heard so repeatedly expressed in his first home.

And now here he was, standing side-by-side with his childhood hero, only to discover he was a traitor.

Traitor.

Over the proceeding night and then during the early morning march up the hill to Ortni, Jik was careful to let none of his internal whirlpool of emotion show. He made plan after plan, shifted thought after thought in his mind until it was all a jumble of misshapen pieces and none of them fit together.

How long has he been doing this? What treachery has he sown into the Militia itself? How many have died because of this treason? Treason! By every definition of the word that’s what it is! And for months—years I’ve been going along with this, I’ve been looking up to him, trying to be like him, and never suspecting. All along no one suspected. Could it be that the plot runs deeper? Who else is involved?

That last thought particularly concerned Jik, and when the sounds of a Militia transport were heard a few hours later, his anxieties increased.

Genys. That’s her. What will she do? Was she… no surely she isn’t involved. Though I was wrong about Pyrn perhaps I was wrong about her as well. She couldn’t have participated… but then why else were we sent here? Why was she sent here? Just to die? Were we all meant to die? Had she known all along and kept it from us?

The usual clarity of mind that he was so proud of was now muddled, and Jik remained quiet through it all.

And when the altercation finally happened—when Pyrn and Genys finally met in the street—his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. If a skirmish broke out now what would he do? Would he fight? Would he rush to join Genys? Either way, if he fired a glitzer today, it would be against friends, neighbors—comrades. Is that something he could bring himself to? Was his resolve really there? Would he shed Yarvan blood? Would he run away?

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Then Genys fainted. Her Yarvan recruits were taken hostage. Many immediately defected—revealing they had been ready to join the rebellion all along and were merely waiting for the opportune moment. Others seemed more indecisive. A few were guarded closely, and as the fighters prepared to settle for the night, Jik tried to find a seat near a fire with a direct line of sight to the small command center they had hastily constructed for Pyrn.

For an hour or two The General tried to rouse Genys. When she finally awoke, Jik readied himself for more tension. Unfortunately, as they spoke he couldn’t hear a word, but he could tell Genys was upset.

Good. She’s just learning of this. She wasn’t involved.

The pair continued to exchange words. Jik’s hand itched to move toward the sleek Thori glitzer lying at his side. When the commander lunged for Pyrn’s sidearm he almost brought his weapon up, but Pyrn deflected the commander’s attack and the two fell into a more hushed conversation. Try as he might, Jik still couldn’t make out anything they were saying.

And then something happened that turned his blood cold. Genys relaxed. Her furrowed brows shot up in surprise. Pyrn had said something significant, and whatever it was caused conflict in his commander. The conflict moved in waves across her face until finally settling into something else… something much worse.

Whatever Pyrn had said, Genys was convinced, and because of it Jik broke out in a cold sweat.

What happened? What did he say? What could he possibly have said?

He took a deep breath and turned to look around at the other Yarvan rebels. Most of them had also been watching the exchange, and he could tell Genys’ reaction had surprised more than a few. Any previous discussions about Genys had mostly conceded that the rebellion’s only option was to take her out of the equation. She could never be turned, she was too devoted, too far gone—or at least that’s what they had said.

So how was it Pyrn had effected such a transformation? Was Genys more susceptible than any of them had thought her to be?

And all in one moment, Jik realized he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He looked around at all the recruits—the rebels that had become his friends who held his squadron comrades at gunpoint. Yarvans fighting against Yarvans, and all because of the higher-ups, generals, and commanders who directed their lives according to their own minute decisions. They had always been treated like cattle, and whether it was his father or Pyrn, he was done submitting his life to the whims of those above him.

He didn’t care about Tinaria, somehow as insane as it sounded he really didn’t. It was never about The Republic, it was about a society that ensured peace because he also didn’t care anything for the rebellion, in fact, he resented it as much as he always had. Neither were good, neither could possibly insure what he had always wanted.

What he did care about were people—people who couldn’t live in peace because of the juvenile emotions of warmongering imperialists and rebels. Both sides were wrong, both sides created needless atrocities. His family has been destroyed and his friends were in constant danger all because human beings couldn’t learn to value human lives over their own selfish ambitions.

And that’s when clarity struck—that’s when everything fell into place in Jik’s mind. All the disparate pieces of his soul that had been vying for attention for years—unable to coexist in harmony—all settled into a singular realization. He knew precisely what he needed to do. There was no longer any doubt.

He turned back to Pyrn and Genys, a High General and his commander, sealing the fates of so many lives with the carelessness that bureaucracy always engendered.

Jik would kill them both with his own hands.