Again, no word from Legosia. Something seems suspicious to me of this whole affair. He hasn’t reported back in so long it’s beginning to worry me.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 9th Note.

Galeon slid across the grounds of the camp, his feet scraping across the ground with every movement.

People turned aside, jumped away even sometimes, when they saw the young Afterburner approaching. Some even yelled after him, thinking it another one of Galeon’s antics. But this time, he wasn’t playing around.

Well, not entirely, he supposed. He couldn’t deny the thrill he got from skating across the ground as if it was slick with oil. But with every turn and brake, he grew a bit more comfortable with the movements of the sliding configuration he’d put his jets in. Smoother turns, faster stops, higher mobility.

He turned a corner onto an empty street, boosting himself forward. In that instance, an automaton seemed to move out between the tents, and Galeon blasted himself right to avoid crashing into its metal frame. He then blasted himself leftwards and back into the street, looking behind him at the automaton. The robotic creation barely even registered him, simply continuing with its task of sweeping the roads.

He could’ve flown over to Noviselle’s office, but he preferred it like this. So, when he arrived in front of the building that housed her, he almost felt a bit sad that he didn’t have more time to spend on the streets.

He shoved those worries into the back of his mind as he entered through the front doors. Passing by other soldiers and clerks at work, Galeon let himself into the young noble’s office, where she was clutching her hair and writing.

She looked up at Galeon and gave him a slight smile, one that he returned.

“You took a bit longer than you usually do,” Novi noted.

“Was trying something out. I’ve gotten the hang of it now, so it should be easy.”

“It better not have been another one of your pranks. I can scarcely placate the people who you’ve crossed before,” Novi replied, making Galeon cringe just a bit with embarrassment.

“Never mind that, are you ready to hear what I’ve got to say?” Noviselle asked him.

“Yeah.”

“We’re launching an attack on Latren. And we need you to lead a squadron,” Noviselle said, letting the statement hang in the air.

“Why me?” Galeon asked. He was by no means a leader, and she knew that best of all.

“Not my orders. It was Duke Clasken’s,” Noviselle replied.

“But why, still? There has to be better Afterburners out there,” Galeon reasoned.

“He says you’ll do well despite it. I assume he sees something in you I don’t,” she mocked offhandedly.

“What’s my part in this, then? Does he want me busying the enemy Afterburners?” Galeon asked.

“Something more unusual actually. We think that Ravenishtan might be hiding troops within Sanasira. If we take back the Stronghold, and their forces attack us from behind, we won’t be able to defend against it.”

“They couldn’t, though. Everyone knows that those ruins are supernaturally dangerous. If Ravenishtan did hide their troops there, the traps would take care of them before us,” Galeon told her.

“Troops could still be hidden there, Galeon. If not normal ones, then hallowmancers. Which makes the mission all the more important. You’re going to have to prepare yourself for that,” Noviselle told him.

“Fine… Where are the others who’ll be joining us?” Galeon asked. Noviselle handed him a note which pleasantly surprised him.

Emile and Isil are both going to be there? I guess there’s no one better that I’d rather have in a deadly ancient city. Galeon shoved the slip into his coat pockets, giving Noviselle a nod.

“I still don’t think I’m the right person for this, Novi,” Galeon said.

“You sell yourself short, Leon. Some of the older Afterburners are envious of how easy you make their powers look,” Novi reassured him. Really? Galeon thought, though the smile that Novi popped after had him reconsidering.

Perhaps she was being honest. Or maybe she was playing off of his nature. Whatever it may be, Galeon now had a mission, and he had to prepare for it. He looked down at his arms, shaking them.

Still need more practice with it… he thought idly, as he took to Novi’s windows once more.

“They might be weakened, Galeon,” Novi said from her table, not looking at him.

“What do you mean?” Galeon asked her.

“Don’t let them go. Please.”

A weight hammered in Galeon’s chest, but he jumped anyway. Flew right out of the office without a second word. He wouldn’t promise anything, no matter how much he wanted to.

****

Dolish arrived at Latren later in the day than he would’ve hoped. He had delegated most of the duties of managing his branch of the army to his subordinates. He would have to give Vaness thanks for that later, considering how much of it was now within her purview.

He landed in the middle of the stronghold from his carriage. The carriage didn’t wait for him to dismiss them, eliciting a grunt from the aged general.

Looking around at the fortifications, he was satisfied. The large thick walls of the Stronghold were in good shape, four towers at each corner solidifying them. On those towers stood ledges for Afterburners and Planars. Though strangely, those were devoid of their Bladeborn.

Stolen story; please report.

A colonel walked up and saluted Dolish, eliciting a grunt of approval. At least some of the men know proper etiquette.

“Where are the Afterburners, Colonel?” Dolish asked.

“Out on patrol, sir. They… like to take the scenic route around the mountains,” the man replied awkwardly.

“When next they come back, bring their leader to me. We can’t spare time for such frivolities,” Dolish told him, eyeing around the place once more and squinting.

“And the men?” Dolish asked.

“Nerves getting to them, General. They don’t much like the proximity to the ruins we have.”

“The city’s traps don’t reach outwards, as far as I was told,” Dolish replied.

“But stories still remain, sir. Several of the men would swear on their honour that they saw figures coming out of the city. Others say they hear heavy footfalls at night, as if giants are walking around outside,” the man reasoned.

“Hmmm… interesting. You can tell me more about this as we walk around,” Dolish told the man.

“Is there any orders you’ve for me to deliver, General? You needn’t exert the effort yourself,” the colonel asked, trying to sound accommodating.

“No, we just need to whip your men into shape is all. And that’s something I don’t need a subordinate to do.”

Dolish cracked his knuckles for the gruelling day ahead. And gruelling it was, as his voice was tired by the end of the long and tiring training session. Weapons were accounted and polished, beds and belongings were organized, and the men were taken outside in the middle of the night for their training.

Dolish worked the men as far as he could bear to. They’d need to get over their fears of Sanasira by themselves. He caught a few of them staring towards the mountains where the city was housed, a thousand span stare in their eyes. Dolish didn’t blame them, since he just as often would stare at the city, but for an entirely different reason.

It was there where the weapon lied. Or so the King of Thieves had claimed when he’d given them the information. No one would’ve believed him had it not been for the traps they encountered within the city.

Someone, or something, is hiding something in there. But why? Dolish shook his head and turned back to the men, focusing his attention away from the magnetic aura around the city.

When they were done, he set the men to sleep. They’d have an early morning tomorrow in store, and he needed to prepare himself for it just the same. He closed the door to his offices, walking towards the bed chambers that had been constructed especially for a commander. It was in a deeper part of the stronghold, hidden away from the front so as not to be accessible.

But when Dolish was about to enter, something caught his eye. A man at the end of the hallway, standing near an open window and looking outside. He thought he could hear the faint hum of a tune from the man. Nothing surprising about that, except for the fact that he seemed to be wearing an obscuring black cloak over his uniform.

Dolish couldn’t ignore it, given his nature, so he slowly stepped towards the man, keeping himself audible. The man never turned around to acknowledge him, however, even when Dolish grunted to gain his attention.

“You should take a spoonful of honey before bed, General. All that shouting must’ve wrung your throat dry,” the man joked, annoying the General.

“Not the time for jokes, soldier. What’s your rank and name?” Dolish asked.

“I suppose… Charlatan and King,” the man replied, turning around to show white streaked hair and amber eyes.

Dolish didn’t hesitate. A single moment later, the man’s throat was in his hands and he was held halfway out the window.

“You!” Dolish said, “How dare you show your face again! After what you’ve done to our people?” Dolish asked him. The man smiled through his grasp.

“What… I’ve done? Yes… I suppose I’m the one who’s been at war with Phasgoria for a year now, aren’t I?” the man chuckled, though it was strained. Dolish would’ve liked to crush his throat right then and there, but his words gave him pause.

He sighed and pulled the man inside, dropping him onto the floor. The King of Thieves coughed before standing up and pulling back his cloak.

“Monstrous strength like that is unfair to people like me, don’t you think?” the King asked.

“How did you get inside my stronghold?”

The man gave a sideways glance.

“You were running drills outside. It wasn’t that hard,” the King replied. Not for you, I suppose, Dolish thought.

“And why shouldn’t I turn a possible Phasgorian spy over to the Armon, so he could deal with you personally?”

“Because I’ve put myself in a compromising position only for a single reason. To help you!” the King smiled, making Dolish think that he should’ve defenestrated the man when he had the chance.

“Out with it, then. How are going to help us?” Dolish asked.

“Not going to ask what I’ll want in return?”

“No, because we’re not giving you a single thing.”

“I’ll just help myself, then,” the King smiled.

“If you’re just going to keep playing games, tell me now,” Dolish asked.

“Fine, fine. I’ll get to the point. I’m sick of seeing this conflict. It’s a stupid affair that’s taken too much of everyone’s time. And I feel partly responsible for it,” the King told him.

“You were the one to sell us the information about the ruins. So, yes, you are partly responsible,” Dolish spat the words, which seemed to actually make the King flinch.

“Yes… I didn’t think it would cause all this. All this for the sake of a weapon I personally thought didn’t even exist anymore,” the King explained.

“You came to us in our time of need and gave us something to work towards. I think you understood what would happen well enough,” Dolish replied.

“Those notes weren’t supposed to be that important, Venastian. I thought you’d make better headway than me, considering the size of your army and your number of hallowmancers, but you’ve barely scratched the damn place,” the King bit back.

Wind whistled in the night, cold seeping in through the window. Outside, one of the six moons hung undisturbed in the sky, shining down on the both of them.

“I thought… you’d get at least as far as I did. That by then, my notes would be useless to you,” the King told him.

“The traps in that city keep replenishing. And Phasgoria keeps interrupting the efforts. It’s not easy to make progress when you’re being attacked from two points.”

“Yes, well, if you did reach the point I did, that being the royal palace, you would’ve known something very important,” the King said.

“And that would be?” Dolish asked expectantly.

“There aren’t just ten notes. There aren’t even twenty. There are hundreds of them.”

“How does that matter? We know the last king of Elneshe wrote about his life and work. You just happened to grab the latest, didn’t you, albeit with one entry cut short?”

The King of Thieves shook his head.

“Those notes about Dephoni? Those weren’t the latest, Dolish. I knew there were more, scribbled all across the walls in some mad pattern. I just didn’t have the time to discover them. I was chased out by some hidden enemies, leaving me to only give you the ones I could recover,” the King explained.

Dolish grit his teeth. “And you didn’t see fit to mention this when you sold the Armon on a false promise?” he asked.

“You ever sell someone half a grain of rice? I thought it was harmless, that it wouldn’t matter once you were inside.”

But if what he had said was true, that would mean that there could be more clues inside. More that could lead to finding out the demise of the weapon, or even better, to the intact weapon itself.

The King coughed, getting Dolish’s attention once more.

“Now, I’m going to treat myself to some of your rations, if you don’t mind,” he said, stepping away so quickly yet without a single sound.

“I hope you’ve stocked up on something good. You won’t have to worry about Phasgorians if your own soldiers mutiny because of the food.”

“Why did you help us?” Dolish asked him before he completely turned the corner.

“Sentimentality, I’d say,” the man said, disappearing without another noise. Dolish walked after him, but he couldn’t find him. He would’ve chalked it up to hallowmancy, had he not known a single power that could do what the King of Thieves accomplished.

Pride was one thing Bladeborn had, and even Dolish’s hurt knowing that someone so normal had slipped past him. He looked once more out at the moon, and the mountain range it shone over.

In that city lied the truths Ravenishtan needed. And Dolish could be the one to get them. He clenched his hands against the stone window, a plan whirring in his head of how to get in.

And far away, under the same moon, an Afterburner was contemplating why he couldn’t stay in the skies forever, never coming down again.