Everyone turned to see who spoke.

Except the Screen Master. He remained projected onto the wall. Like always.

It was the lady who asked for his help in the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me she re-entered the building?” Zan asked.

The Screen Master replied, “She never left the building.”

Ugh. Was what came to Zan’s mind.

Turning to her, he said, “I thought you stormed off. W-wait, shouldn’t you have stormed off? Your family still hasn’t been un-enslaved, right?”

“Firstly, don’t tell me what I should or should not have done. Secondly, maybe I should have, but this place captured my imagination. I was actually on my way out when I overheard this little strategy ‘sesh’ of yours. I have some information you could use in your quest to protect the region. But I need help to rescue my family first,” the woman said.

Zan replied, “For the love of… lady, it isn’t you, it’s us. If we could help you, we would. But we can’t even ride horses. So, again — sorry!”

The woman looked at them sullenly. When she did speak, it was with hardly a whisper. “I am sorry for making fun of your riding abilities. Even if it is by foot, I desperately need fellow blades to help me. I might not know anything about you other than what I observed back in Thundervale, but I know this much about you, Zan: you’re trying to help people when hardly anyone can think of something other than saving their own hide.”

She let her words linger in the air. Zan truly had no clue what to say.

He wanted to help her. He really did. But didn’t he have…? Have what? He asked himself. He wasn’t part of the military. Not yet. Plus, the command center was not in contact with the Kingship’s leadership. He did not and, in fact, could not coordinate with anyone right now about how to wage the war. He was like a fish out of water, and Zan hated flapping about.

But Zan finally thought of something. Remembering how Sigma-Prime said transportation wouldn’t be an issue once the base was more repaired, then how he was not in contact with the Royal Army, Zan said, “How much time until the base is repaired to the point where this new method of transportation is up and running? Hours, days, weeks? Sigma said something about the ‘backroads’?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Command Center repairs will not reach the point of backroads availability for another week — according to the calender used by this nation. Since our friendly intruder has claimed to have knowledge of regional defenses, and you have time until the back roads expand your travel abilities, I recommend taking the stranger up on their offer,” the Screen Master said.

Looking for a time into the stranger’s eyes, Zan told her, “I think the same. I thought I had less time than a week. Being a hero and a warrior is all new to me. It will take me a while to think like a warrior.”

“I understand. I am not a warrior by profession, either. I was a huntress until a few days ago…” the lady said, a hurt in her eyes.

“I was a nobody in a nowhere village,” Zan replied.

“Do you have a name?”

She smiled. “Whiskey Minsk.”

“Put ‘er there, Whiskey,” Zan said, extending his hand for a handshake.

She took his hand and shook vigorously.

“Let’s go over the details for the mission. How many days are we looking at? Do you have any money for supplies along the way? How many weapons should we bring? Do you have a plan — sorry! My soul is burning with everything we need to do,” Zan said.

“We can go over the basics, but shouldn’t your friend be here? I overheard you’re in a fight, but if he is gong on the mission with us, and I think he should since he is another sword, then it would be nice not having to repeat myself,” Whiskey replied.

She made sense. It was just things still felt too soon. Too raw with Jiehong.

“How about I just explain everything to him?” Zan said.

“If that’s what you want, fine. What can you tell me about the border-zone?”

“It’s overrun, obviously. Swarms upon swarms of automotrons. Lots of defenses being built; every time the expanse takes over an area, they build a massive militarized border wall. Lucky for us, the construction hasn’t yet truly begun. But we will make due.”

“What do you mean ‘make due’? What strategy do you think will help us?”

Whiskey made a face and said, “Stealth. That’s my strategy. I know how to move unseen in both day and dark. I take it you guys don’t?”

“No,” Zan replied. “Why would we? Plus, Jiehong is a behemoth of a boy. Stealth for him will be much more difficult.”

“True… I sneaked up on you both easily.” Whiskey made more strange noises, a mixture of grunts and ‘ah ha!’ type noises as if she had thought of something.

As she thought and Zan considered the legitimacy of sauntering up to the enemy encampment, the Screen Master made a response. “Excuse the interruption, but I have an idea: Zan, although the Backroads are not yet operational, I have been working on getting other tools which will be of use to you during your missions. I am proud to report

Smoke Grenades are once again ready for use!”

“Smoke grenades? Sweet… I’m assuming its name and function are the same? So we would use them to beat a retreat?”

“Correct, Zan,” the Screen Master replied. “Smoke grenades are useful for when needing to retreat, change defensive positions without the enemy seeing, or when charging the enemy in a melee duel is the only option. When used responsibly, smoke grenades can very well save your life.”

“Sounds wonderful, Screen Master. Thank you for your help.”

Breaking out of her reverie, Whiskey asked, “What’s a grenade?”