WHILE Whiskey waged an intellectual battle to determine how she would best live her life, earlier in the day, before Whiskey's scouts drained themselves off the proverbial stage, Zan encountered his own difficulties in forging his path to his future.

Leaving behind Whiskey and her scouts, and Jiehong, whom Zan wondered what he would get up to, Zan marched himself to the barracks while the sun still shone hot in the sky.

"It is good to see you well and rested," Simulacrum spoke into his ear.

Touching his earpiece, Zan replied, "I feel better. It was awful being so weak."

"I understand. Men of responsibility, such as yourself, place themselves under immense pressure. It is important to remember to take things slow at times. Take breaks when you need it. Healthy as you are, even you can be broken down."

"Believe me. I know," Zan replied.

The conversation ended there, but Zan knew the Screen Master and likely Sigma-Prime were watching through the headset even now. During the moments of quiet nothing, such as now, where Zan strode through a bustling city without anything of consequence happening, he wondered if the Wardens ever felt bored. Watching him as he went about his missions and purpose.

If they did, Zan told himself. They never admitted as much. I guess they really aren't human.

While walking to the barracks, Zan fought the crowd like everyone else. No one gave him a side-eye for being unattended. Yet, being in the city, wandering through the streets and taking the long way through, just to see how the urban folk lived, he always thought he would do this with his parents. Adopted or otherwise, Zan was a part of Jiehong's family. Had the war not happened, Jiehong would be preparing to enter the royal university. Zan always thought he would be there with Jiehong at university. If not as a fellow student, then perhaps -- formally -- as a live-in aide and roommate while he worked somewhere close to the university. Verbally rubbing his mind raw as he thought about the altercation some months back between he and them, Zan told himself a keyword: was. He was a part of Jiehong's family. Jiehong's parents were his, for better or worse. And now? Who knew. Nothing was ever going to be the same.

When Zan entered the barracks, his face must've been heavy, for Winters took one look at him and said, "What ghost has gotten ye down, lad?"

"Nothing," was all Zan could say.

"Break a smile for me, then, lad. Come on, get chipper and shake off this lethargy!" Winters told him with a smile.

Encouraging the lad by gently moving his arms up and down, suggesting he do some jumping-jacks, Zan gave a reluctant half-smile as he got some amusement out of a grandfatherly figure soothing his mood. Soon, Zan had done a dozen. Landing well on his feet, he gasped while sucking in fresh air and said, "Shall we get to it, then?"

"Eye, lad, we shall," Winters replied, leading Zan into the barrack's back classroom.

Entering the classroom, Winters led Zan to the very back, where his private office was located. Winters encouraged Zan to take a seat as he rumbled through his desks and scroll cabinets. Mumbling to himself, "Reward form, reward form, where is that reward form?" Winters eventually found the reward form he sought and placed an ultra-thin piece of parchment before Zan.

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Zan looked at the form. Words. Spaces. Lines. An emblem.

"I know you can't read, so I will explain to you this form. This is a basic reward form. By filling it out, it grants me the ability to grant you certain rewards based on services rendered to the monarchy. This form covers a wide range of possibilities. So, whether it be money or property or a combination thereof, I am empowered through this form to grant it. Before you arrived, I started filling the form out. Please give me a moment to finish writing in the specifics," Winters explained as he got right into the form with his feather-quill pen.

While Zan waited for Winters to write in the information, he stopped at moments to ask Zan specifics about his role during the battle. What he did, when he had done it. How he fought the figure calling itself 'Mentality.' Winters's questions covered everything from the battle at the villa to the destruction of the airship. He said the more information he could put on the form, the more of a reward he could justify in giving Zan and his up-and-coming Martial Order. Winters went on to say how the formation of Martial Orders were an important part of any war efforts, so with any luck, the larger-than-normal aid package Winters was preparing for Zan could retroactively be justified as the war drags on and as the king attempts to push back against the invaders. "No one's ever beaten the Expanse before," Winters said, talking more to himself than Zan. "All the more reason to get you guys as much resources as I can justify. If we lose, it won't matter what I give you. We're all in the same boat."

Nodding, Zan thought he understood where Winters was coming from. He hoped this would come back to benefit him in the long run. It sounded like it would. Though Zan knew how finicky the world could be with its will.

Minutes more passed. A couple of hours in total between the questions, replying, and writing the answers. Zan got jittery in his seat.

Finally, Winters said, "That will do it," he said, finishing filling out the form and sliding it back toward Zan.

"Apply your mark and a drop of blood," Winters said, pointing to a line near the bottom of the page.

Scribble. Prick. Smear. Done.

"Very good. Now, before we move onto what reward you would like me to grant, we need to go over one last thing. This next form--"

Strangled in his throat, Zan stifled a sigh. He was getting antsy. He wanted to stretch his legs.

What Winters went over with him next was a form detailing how his nomination as an 'autonomous general' would go. This was the beginning of the process, or so Winters said, on how his elevation from autonomous local commander to military wide-general would go. Winters once again reminded Zan about how slow the process would be and how much more would be expected from him should he be granted such a rare and high honor. Winters finished by saying he would deposit the form at the proper place when the time was right. Once he deposited the form, it would be a race. Zan would need to pile on the victories and show his closeness to the royal army, thereby justifying the power he wanted, and all before the Supreme Military Council made a decision. "This is actually partly why slowness is key," Winters said. "Because as great as your victories are, an airship here or a mutant mercenary fought does not make an autonomous general. You will need more honors under your belt, first."

Nodding as seriously as he could, Zan made all the right facial signs to show he was listening, and he knew how important this moment was. As such, he even added a few slanted 'yeses' on top of a couple 'of courses,' to show his engagement. "I'm here until the end," Zan said.

"I know you are," Winters said, finishing his spiel. "Okay. Now that understand the document, same procedure. Scribble. Prick. And smear."

Scribble. Prick. Smear.

"All done," Zan mentioned. "Now, about the reward?"

"Yes! On to the real reason we're all here. What do you need? Keep in mind, I want to do what I can for you. Yet I can only give you so many stars and moons for helping with a rescue operation. Noble or not, what you ask for here, as your primary reward, must be in line with what your contributions were. Now, with that said, do you have something in mind?"

"Yes, I do, sire," Zan said, switching to formal speech. "And it is not what you are expecting..."