Once the call ended, Zan rushed outside to the main camp with Jiehong. If Whiskey was on her way with an important new device, a piece of equipment the Wardens had been working on since the last time they were active, in another eon altogether, it was a device worth ensuring its safety through relentlessly being on watch. Zan didn’t even want to think about what would happen if their resource-intensive device was to break after making the long journey from the command center to their hands. Who knew how the soldiers in camp would react to a woman and a rebel like Whiskey, as Jiehong said, worrying over her safety.
Zan and Jiehong walked around camp asking about Whiskey. Most of the men thought they were joking. “Yeah! What about whiskey? I’ll take a glass!” Or “You boy sare too young for that.” When they shifted and asked about if they had seen ‘a woman,’ the response given was a riotous laugh; “Feck yeah, boys, bring the women on!” Eventually, Zan and Jiehong realized they had not seen the woman known as Whiskey.
“I doubt she is coming tonight,” Jiehong said. “Let’s get back to our tent and have that tea. I’m tired now, for real. Let’s go.”
Zan relented. “Let’s get up early in the morning to keep a vigil.”
“Sounds good, buddy.”
They boys returned to their tent. Jiehong put the kettle on the fire to boil the water. Once the water was ready, he placed a couple of sachets into a couple of tea mugs and poured the water over. The seam whooshed up toward Zan and cleared his sinuses right away. They waited for the tea to steep; doing so, Zan felt the pull of sleep bring unto him a dozy demeanor. He knew by the time he finished his tea; he would be asleep.
“Cheers!” Jiehong said.
“Cheers…” Zan said, thankful they drink he and his friend shared wasn’t alcoholic.
Taking a sup, the flavor surprised Zan. It was neither good nor bad. It was simply generic. Tasted like nothing.
“How is it?” Jiehong asked.
Should he lie? Jiehong didn’t seem surprised at the lack of flavor. Maybe he thought it was flavorful? He didn’t want to be rude.
Then again, Jiehong was his friend. Practically his brother. “It is bland.” Zan stated.
“Sure is… bland as the sand.”
Zan stifled a laugh. All this overthinking about tea and Jiehong is cracking wise about sand. He had to remember not to get so into his own head.
The boys finished their sleepy tea and were out of it before they knew it.
Despite the hard ground, Zan slept well. He dreamed of sugar-plump gods and radiant princesses with dresses made of stars. It was an odd way to experience a nocturnal emission, but not the oddest, per se; that strange honor came once from a night where Zan had dreamed of absolutely nothing.
Waking in the early morning, Zan got himself cleaned up. As part of his simple supplies, Zan had packed some rudimentary soap leftover from his village. He used it rarely. But today, where he might get his hands on a new piece of technology, and see Whiskey again, nevermind a mission assignment, warranted use of soap.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Zan scrubbed himself all over and thoroughly. Removing the stink from the previous day and night, Zan then cleaned his delicates. The process did not take very long. This wasn’t a luxurious scrub. Only an efficiency one.
“We both look clean,” Zan said to Jiehong upon seeing him finish his own washing at a different part of a nearby river the encampment used.
“We both have cleanliness on the mind,” Jiehong said with a wink.
“Or maybe I have cleanliness on the mind and you have Whiskey on the mind…?”
“Maybe! A man always needs to be prepared for romance. I’ll teach that to you someday,” Jiehong said.
“You’ve never been with a girl, though,” Zan said innocently.
“I so have! You’re not always with me, Zan! Grow up…”
Zan laughed. Then so did Jiehong.
“Let’s go see if we can’t find Whiskey,” Jiehong said, settling down.
Searching the camp again, this time asking for a ‘woman named Whiskey,’ the boys found nothing. Their search remained uneventful until, at the crack of noon, Whiskey arrived to great fanfare on her horse.
Whiskey rode in, carrying a white flag to show her peaceful intents. This confused the soldiers, as her attire clearly marked her as a rebel. Many soldiers from Zan’s province looked confused as, apparently, they were unaware there was a rebellion to begin with as their murmurs said such things as “Are those markings really rebel markings?” and “Wait… why is there a rebel… who?!” And Zan’s favorite, “Who the hell is that? A rebel from afar?” From afar? What did that mean? Zan wondered. Were rebels a single group worldwide? Whether that was the case, could rebel identification worldwide be stable and based on their insignias, no matter the locality? Questions for later, Zan knew. But questions which inflamed his curiosity.
Approaching Whiskey, Zan was going to shout a greeting, but Jiehong got to it first.
“WHISKEY! MY FRIEND!” Jiehong shouted, alerting everyone in the camp.
“Jiehong? Oh, Zan. Here you two are. I was afraid I would have to search up and down all of creation’s tendrils to find you,” Whiskey said, approaching the boys and giving them a quick and chaste hug.
“The Screen Master already filled us in on some details. He said you had a package for us?” Zan asked. “You’re not a parcel delivery woman now, are you?”
Whiskey burst into a short-lived laughing fit before she composed herself. “Delivery? No. My rebel band was on the move when I realized your command center was close. I popped in and ask you for some supplies. But those associates of yours, the Wardens? They talked me into doing them a favor. Speaking of which, here it is,” Whiskey explained before untying a large package from her back and handing it to Zan.
“What is it?” Zan asked.
“How would I know! I’m not the special ‘Ranger-Knight,’” Whiskey said, laughing in such a way as to remind Zan of how some girls in his village laughed during the long summer nights, where he and they would spend many an hour catching fireflies in their elaborate make-believe games.
“Fair enough. Let’s go back to our tent and open this bad boy up,” Jiehong said, patting Zan on the back and moving him toward their home-away-from-home.
Back at their tent, though hardly free of prying eyes and their wonder, Jiehong entered the tent and held it open for Whiskey. In her steps, though, was hesitation. “Are you not going to see what’s inside?” Zan asked.
Popping his head out, Jiehong asked, “Are you not staying?” Concern filled his voice.
“Uhh… I really shouldn’t stay,” Whiskey said. “My men are waiting for me and such. I supposed staying for a spell wouldn’t hurt, though. Everyone needs a break, right?”
“Of course. If you’ve been riding all day, especially. It would be inhumane of you to push yourself beyond the reasonable limit unless there was something truly worthy of hurting yourself over. So stay with us a moment, have some energizing tea, and let’s see what’s inside this thing,” Jiehong said convincingly to Whiskey.
Though the package’s wrap was functional, not practical, covering the layers of strange ultra-soft pebbles, was a colorful albeit thin layer of wrap which made crinkly sounds when Zan touched it. Zan tore the packing apart, happy to have something like a gift presented to him for the first time in his life.
What lay inside changed everything.