“How is Verum doing?” Rogue got the sense that Callida was asking the question more out of obligation than a real desire to know the answer, but he provided it just the same while grinding up a series of dried herbs to add to a salve he was making.

“Better every day. He’s in less pain, so he’s more awake and alert. And he’s no longer showing signs of infection.”

“That’s good,” she acknowledged his report distractedly, gnawing on her bottom lip.

“M’lady, is there something else on your mind?”

She seemed surprised to be caught so readily, and Rogue couldn’t help but smirk at the way her eyes widened. “I… yes.” Rogue waited patiently while she fumbled through an odd preface and a disclaimer that he took note of but didn’t really hear. “How would you feel if we… left?” That he heard.

“Left? What do you mean?”

“You know… left the Lion Tribe?”

Blindsided (he really should have paid closer attention to her prelude), Rogue spent a full ten seconds just staring at her while his thoughts swirled too wildly and too quickly to make sense of them. Leave the Lion Tribe?! Something deep within his gut began to bubble up — something excited. “Wait. Let me make sure I understand what you’re proposing. You want to move away?!”

“I’m thinking about it. I want your opinion on the idea.”

“Callida, does this mean you’re considering resigning as the Lion General? You’re thinking of quitting?”

“It would mean… yes. I’d have to resign and choose a successor.”

“And you’re ok with that?!”

“Well, I’m not happy about it,” she frowned. “Like I said, my presence here at the palace has created a security risk, which is, ironically, in direct opposition with my job. I am the biggest security risk to the palace right now, and I feel weirdly obligated to eliminate myself as a risk… even if it means resigning.”

“No, that makes sense. I just never thought I’d see the day when….”

“I want your opinion on all of this. There are two sides of this proposal, and both of our options are… rough. If we stay here, I’m a threat to the Lion Tribe government, the king, and his family, but if we go, Rogue…. If we go, we’re going to be followed, and there won’t be walls and armies to protect us from… from them.”

That excitement died all at once. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Rogue stared at her for a long while after that, finally understanding what she was asking. “If we were to leave, where would we go?”

“I don’t know. Rogue, if we are a threat to the Lion Tribe government because of the people who will follow us, then we’ll be a threat to every government. These people want a Great Unifier or at least the parents of a prophecy that will produce such a person, and regardless of what we say or do to dissuade them, they think they’ve found one in one of us or both of us or…. It doesn’t matter. The point is, if we leave in the name of protecting the Lion Tribe, we can’t just transfer that same danger to another tribe.”

“So you’re proposing starting a new colony?!”

Her eyes widened with surprise again, almost as though she hadn’t thought this through. Perhaps she really hadn’t. “That… that actually makes sense. I don’t know the first thing about starting a colony though.”

“Fortunately, I kinda do,” Rogue said with a thoughtful scowl. “I grew up in a colony of one kind or another as you might recall. It’s a ton of hard work, and we’d need to think about things like staking a claim on previously unclaimed land, resources, personnel, planting seasons….” Finished with grinding the medicines, he put down the mortar he was using and stood up, walking around the table to take her hand. “Callida, I need you to tell me honestly. How serious are you about all of this?”

“I’m on the fence, and I’m overwhelmed by it,” she admitted. “I’m having a hard time thinking through the logistics, but I’m stuck on this feeling that we can’t, in good conscience, stay here. Verum was nearly killed. I don’t want to wait around for someone else to do the job properly, but I also don’t have a plan for walking away. All I know is, we’ll be followed. Wherever we go, Rogue, we’ll be followed by these insane, determined fanatics. And I’m scared. This isn’t a life I want for me, for you, or for our sons. But I don’t know what else to do, and I need your help. This is your life too. This is our family, so this needs to be our decision.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Ok. Let’s take this one step at a time then. How determined are you to resign?”

“Give me a plan for where we’re going to live and how we’re going to provide for our sons, and I’ll quit tomorrow.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” She swallowed hard but held his gaze as he read her resolve.

“Then, it sounds like it’s time to make a plan.”

“Ok,” she nodded, becoming a little emotional.

“Before we do, though, Callida, do you know that I love you?”

Vaguely teary, Callida lifted onto her toes, easily closing the gap between them for a single, rallying kiss. “I do.”

***

She’d stayed up most of the night working on the beginnings of an actionable plan with her husband, but Callida was feeling better about her decision to resign. Step one: declare her resignation and get things moving so she could get her replacement established while she and Rogue plotted out the rest of the plan. Such a transition would take at least a month to complete based on some very loose projections. Hopefully, they’d be able to start traveling in time to arrive at wherever they planned to settle at the beginning of the planting season. That was the goal anyway.

Walking through the military base and palace felt different knowing now that she would be leaving it soon. For better or worse, this place had been the closest thing she had to a home for the better part of the last nine years — about a third of her life. Sure, she’d been deployed elsewhere for much of that time, but she always wound up back here. That didn’t seem likely to be the case this time.

A nostalgic melancholy accompanied her through the polished sandstone halls to the hospital wing. She grew nervous as Verum’s hospital room doors came into view. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Knock, knock.

She let herself in as someone called from within. Verum was sitting, propped up against a stack of pillows. His already brooding expression grew darker when he saw her at the door. “Well, don’t just stand there, Callida. I’ve been waiting for you.” She took the seat next to the bed and waited, inviting Verum to say his piece first. “I’m assuming you talked to Qiangde and you’re here to give me your verdict?” She nodded, and Verum sank more heavily into his pillows to stare up at the ceiling. “Do I get a say in your decision?”

“You’re welcome to present a case, but it probably won’t change my mind.”

“I suppose, before I waste my breath, it might be worth asking what you decided.” Callida hadn’t planned on getting emotional, but here she was, tearing up. Verum only had to look at her to know her answer. “Primordials, this sucks,” he eventually declared after a moment spent trying to clear a lump from his throat to limited success. “You know that I don’t blame you for any of this, right? You know this wasn’t your fault?”

“Does it matter?”

“I know that you have it in your head that leaving is the only honorable thing to do — the only way to protect me and my family, but Callida, have you considered that I need you here? I need you in council meetings. I need your common sense and alternate perspectives and unpopular opinions.”

“You’ve told me that you don’t really need me. You managed just fine without me while I was deployed.”

“But everything is so much easier with you here.”

“Except keeping your council happy. You and I both know how much they resent me,” she laughed through her tears.

“Yeah. I suppose that’s true, and for good reason. I don’t think it’s any secret that I’d dismiss the whole lot of them if it meant I got to keep you.” His face pinched, and Verum turned away from her to regain control over himself. “You’ve made your mind up?” She nodded. “So there’s really nothing I can say to persuade you against this?”

She shook her head and let it bow with the sudden wave of grief that washed over her for that decision, but the conviction that this was the right decision was already burning. It was time for a change; it was time to move on.

“Where do you plan to go?”

“We’re still figuring out the exact details.”

“You don’t have a plan?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“When do you leave?”

“I’ll train my successor, but after that.”

“Who’s your intended successor?”

“Commander Intego Rapax. He’ll do a good job. He’s clever and competent with a level, practical head, and he’s honorable. He’s not afraid to speak his mind if he knows he has permission to do so,” she added with a smile. “You’ll like working with him.”

“And you trust him?”

“He’s Probus’s nobilis. Yes. I trust him. I wouldn’t leave you with anyone I didn’t trust.”

Verum sighed at that, growing evermore resigned. “I suppose that’ll have to do.”

“I’m sorry, Verum.”

“Are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowned.

“Never mind. Don’t mind me, Callida. I’m just… bitter — bitter about your choice to leave. Even if I understand why. I’m bitter about the circumstances that lead up to this.” Another sigh. Verum seemed to grow heavy, his eyes closing tiredly as his head tilted back. “Dismissed, General… while I can still call you that.”

Without a word, Callida rose to her feet and bowed before leaving her friend to rest. As much as it hurt leaving old friends behind, Callida looked forward with cautious optimism, knowing that it was time to begin a new chapter.