"It's getting late," Whiskey said. "We should turn in for the night."

No one argued with Whiskey. Jiehong sure as heck didn't argue. "What a great idea. We all could use some relaxation."

The trio returned to the mudbrick building which seemed to Jiehong almost like a second home. Zan barely was cognizant about what was happening. After the debate-debriefing with Winters, he collapsed onto Jiehong like a tuckered-out toddler after running amok through a harvest festival.

Jiehong laid Zan down to rest on his cot. He said to Whiskey, "Care to join me for a drink?"

"Sure. But only one," Whiskey said.

Noticing how many more vendors were now on the street selling local drinks and street food, Jiehong and Whiskey, of course, had more than one drink. By the evening's end, they had half-a-dozen. For their limited constitutions, it was more than enough to loop them silly.

Falling against the wall of a mudbrick building while on their way back to their complex, Jiehong burped, excused himself, and said to Whiskey something which had been on his mind for the last few hours but had not said anything least Zan take it the wrong way. "I am happy Zan took the deal," he said.

"Me too! Absolutely," Whiskey said, with hardly a slur to her tongue.

"Because, like... a leader needs to know and balance what is good for the group with what is realistic for the group. It's like, a balance, yeah?"

"Yes! Hard yes! Your friend sure knows how to gamble with his fortune. An autonomous title throughout the whole royal military? He was practically asking to be made a supreme general... if I know my royalist military structure. Which... I don't!" Whiskey said, giggling uncharacteristically because of the alcohol.

"W-what do you t-think he'll take for a reward?" Jiehong asked, stopping and starting his speech as he attempted to think of what to say through the intoxicated cloud.

"No idea... ugh, I'm dizzy. Bedtime, methinks!" Whiskey said as she set the pace and resumed walking back to the mudbrick flat.

The group returned to their room to find it packed with strangers and travelers passing through town. Despite the noise generated from the life of a dozen families, Zan remained undisturbed and still sleeping. Despite the roar, Whiskey and Jiehong turned in and found sleep easily.

When they woke, it was early morning. They did not get up, then, however. They slept in late, deciding not to rise until it was nearly the afternoon. They rose and had some water. Stale bread. Then more water. Rest.

Before they split into their own affinities, Zan, Jiehong, and Whiskey had lunch. It consisted of cabbage and kale soup seasoned with local spices meant to sooth the stomach. Each slowly finished their soup, their hangovers limiting their hunger. Zan was the first to finish and said he felt well-enough to return to Winters and finish up their discussion from the other day.

"Okay. Sounds fine. Before you leave, Zan, what shall we do for the day? Once you've returned, that is?" Jiehong asked.

"Uh, I don't know. I am not at a hundred percent yet. And the stuff today I have to do with Winters is probably going to drain me back to zero. Let's make it easy on ourselves. Have today, tomorrow too, be a free day. We can do what we will. Rest. Then we depart back to our province. Everyone in agreement?" Zan asked.

Jiehong said he was fine with the notion as did Whiskey. "Just let us know when you're done," Jiehong said.

"Will do. I will use the beetles," Zan replied before heading off to the barracks.

"What are you going to do?" Jiehong asked Whiskey.

Smiling, Whiskey said, "As if you have to ask..."

#

WHISKEY strode down the busy thoroughfare, deftly angling her way through the bustling crowd. Her aim was to find her scouts. She knew they would be near to the barracks. Before arriving in the city, she gave them explicit instructions.

Meeting her comrades in an alleyway which, although full of people, seemed nearly a ghost town compared to the horde in the main street, Whiskey found them easily enough, if she discounted the two-plus hours of battling the maddening crowd. Finding them near the back of a 'Smokery,' or a place where one could puff holy herbs in peace, Whiskey approached. "Friends. Sorry for the sudden abandonment. I found Jiehong and that led to a whole thing... I have news. I am joining Zan's Order."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Her scouts gave her a blase look. Part surprise, part confusion, they clearly were out of the loop. So, Whiskey explained to them the situation.

"So, you are going to just abandon the movement?" Pim said.

"No. I know it seems I am abandoning everyone, but I am not. I want to be clear on that point. I am leaving the proper way. I will buy my contract out and continue to support the rebellion but in my own way. This is my best course of action," Whiskey explained.

Taking more drags from their smokables, Whiskey could tell from the light odor what they were smoking was inexpensive, beginner stuff. She could hardly whiff the output from the herb's burning. Her comrades, then, were mostly sober. They asked her what she knew about the order and if it was really worth spending the money to buy her way out. "I've never heard of this 'Shiv,'" one of them said.

"It's because it is an ancient order. From the time before reliable records were kept," Whiskey said, not wanting to explain to them intricacies of the world which she could only grasp at.

The explanation was basic, but her Scouts accepted it, even so.

"We'll miss you, Whiskey. A strong female voice like yours is what we sorely need."

Whiskey commiserated with her comrades and partook in their puffery. Drinking and herb smoking. Aren't I just living it up? Whiskey told herself after taking a few pulls.

"I'll miss you guys. For sure. It was fun in the beginning, wasn't it? Standing up for ourselves, finding each other in the confusion, forming our group. Bonding... Come on, ladies, if this is where we part ways, let's have a night on the town. I have the day. You can steal some R&R for a moment, right? For old time's sake?"

Whiskey looked at her comrades-in-arms and personal friends. Pim, Pym, and Pem. Triplet sisters and who rocked Whiskey's world.

"Gah, who can say no to that face? For old time's sake and the trouble ahead," Pem said. "One day on the town."

Whiskey had a wonderful day. The festival was merely a small local tradition to celebrate the harvest. Though Hope-Ridge had only a small wheat basket to its name, its fields provided hope for many a small farmer who claimed the land as their own. Here, the situation was different from what Whiskey had known, where her community had toiled away for the benefit of a lord. From street chit-chat, Whiskey learned how in Hope-Ridge, something called a Peasant's Assembly held power; she also learned how because the assembly held power, independent farmers could control and sometimes own their land.

Thinking on the notion, it made Whiskey happy Zan had made the right choice and did not insist on his 'autonomous status' request. Crap land and more resources were what they needed now, not a pipe dream based on finding glory within some monarchial mythology handed down to you. While touring with her scouting buddies, Whiskey found it impossible not to think how ripe the conditions might be in Hope-Ridge for expanding the rebellion.

But how? Whiskey could not stay in Hope-Ridge. Her scouts, though, could...

Nearing the outer edge of evening, Whiskey held each of her friends in clutch, and whispered to them, "Have you seen the people, here? This place is ready for a new way of life..."

In turn, each of the scouts made their reply through veiled gestures meant to conceal their meaning from the ever-possible presence of royal spies.

"We've noticed it to. Wonderful weather... but what can you do about it?" Pim, Pym, and Pem said in their own way. Coded, of course.

"I'm but a humble woman on her way to ascetic grace," Whiskey replied. "Once my contract is sealed, perhaps an investment here might yield fruit?"

"Bountiful fruit. A place for consideration indeed..."

Hope-Ridge might be ready for revolution. Yet, ready or not, the spread of the revolution no longer required her explicit help. Whiskey's goals were larger, better. She would have to leave the urban conflict to others. Waving her friends by as they slid out the city gates and readied their return journey.

On a normal night, talking politics and movements with her comrades would have been enough. Whiskey would retire to her room or tent, if she was besieging a place, and muse on history and how to advance the local movement. It was never more than a couple of hours before she conked out and fell asleep. Tonight, though, was different. Whiskey felt different.

Sure, she had some papers to sign, her contract buyout. But that wasn't something she could do until later, once Winters gave her, her reward. For now, Whiskey was a free woman. Free from obligations and deeply held truths, sure, but free.

No longer shackled by behaving responsibly -- whether for her unit if not herself -- Whiskey felt no desire to return to some flat and (poorly) read a history or philosophy book. She had her future ahead of her. A future which would include radical politics and... what more? What else? That was tonight was about. Finding something which stroked her soul and made her feel a stirring.

Torches went up all throughout the city, marking the transition from 'family fun time' to 'adults-only.' The night scene began.

With a step, Whiskey began her march.

Sampling local wines and watching local street performers entertain for tips and handouts, none of it held Whiskey's attention. She wanted something more gratifying. Something with an art to it, a practice, and purpose, beyond mere scrap copper pieces.

Discovering a section of the city where the festival turned from consumption into socializing, Whiskey found booths and groups of people carrying flags. Each flag or booth represented a different ideology or belief of some kind. Most were not, in fact, political in nature, Whiskey discovered. Most were oriented spiritually and represented different heavenly sects. A minority were of a political bent and Whiskey enjoyed arguing with loyalists about some aspect of royal policy. Formal debates, though, was not something Whiskey had an interest in doing. She wanted something more abstract, where swaying people meant interacting with them on their own level as they went about their day.

Hearing a rumble nearby, then a loud noise, Whiskey thought a wagon crashed.

Whiskey rushed to help. If a wagon crashed, then a good number of people could be hurt. She had to help heal them. If others weren't too intoxicated, then the victims of the crash would be fine. If too many people were too intoxicated, however, and if there were many victims, then only the divines themselves would know how the wounded would manage. Using healing magic while intoxicated often did not produce the desired effects...

Arriving on the scene, Whiskey saw unmounted horses. Broken planks of wood. And then, piercing the darkness, a torch lit. Whereupon a man with ghostly skin stepped nearby and addressed the audience...