Waking up early, as they agreed upon the night before, Zan woke from his bed.

Feeling peckish, he met Jiehong in the kitchen for a meal prepared by their personal chef. Same breakfast fare as always. But with a cup of herbal tea.

“Where did you get this tea?” Jiehong asked. “You don’t have any coins.”

“It was a gift from Whiskey. For helping her,” Zan said. Not wanting to see Jiehong become jealous, Zan continued: “Since it was for helping her, I guess half of it is yours. Take what you want.”

Thinking his words over, Jiehong appeared fine. He said, “Oh! That was nice of her… I think I will take a few choice bags. Thanks. I look forward to seeing her even more now, so I can thank her in-person for the gift. This was very nice of her.”

Sipping their tea in silence, neither of the youths wanted to chat about their interest (or lack of, therefore) concerning Whiskey. Zan thought it a pointless time sink. Jiehong likely thought the same, albeit in a different way, where the term ‘sink’ had different connotations.

“To Thundervale?” Jie asked. Zan nodded, smiled, and got ready in a hurry.

Zan felt better.

There wasn’t any other way to describe it.

It was a little of everything. The stress from battle, the frustration with Jiehong’s questioning of his leadership, even the situation with the family. As well, the tiredness, a constant companion. Zan did all that and now had a full belly after a long night’s rest. What more could he ask for, especially with his friend by his side?

Walking to Thundervale, the way seemed shorter. Must be all the walking, Zan considered as he placed one foot in front of the other repeatedly. Forever.

“Everything looks quiet,” Jiehong said.

“Yeah, it does… surprising, ain’t it?” Zan said back.

“Yeah, actually. I’m not complaining, obviously. It’s weird, is all, you know? I figured this whole area would be under constant assault and we would have to watch out back like it was ‘life or death’ every time we left the camp. Instead, a week into this full-scale invasion, and the road once clogged with enemy soldiers is now empty. Bizarre!”

“Or maybe it is not so weird… we’ve done our part, haven’t we?” Zan said.

Jiehong stopped walking and looked at Zan. “Yeah, we have done our part. That is a good point. A very good point! If it wasn’t for us, those enemy soldiers would still be here. Would be clogging up the road, still… we’ve done well.”

Looking away but happy, Zan said, “We have done well. But still lots more well-doing to do, with the rest of the country and all.”

“For real. Let’s do it, together,” Jiehong said, clasping Zan over the shoulders like they used to do as younger kids.

With bro-in-toe, Zan and Jiehong approached the walled gates of Thundervale.

Behind the town, the sun shone, the gods were high in the sky, and the Slipstream, in its incredible glory, shone brightly.

Banging on the town gate’s giant knocker, a soldier answered their summons.

“What business do you have with us?” the soldier asked.

“We are freedom fighters opposing the invasion of our homeland. We are recently back from a mission and wanted to do some patrols of the area to ensure everyone’s safety. Mind if we discuss the matter further with your garrison?” Jiehong said, ever more diplomatically than Zan thought he could speak.

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The soldier thought about it for a moment. Seeing the boys as a non-threat, he said, “Ah, alright. Come in… wait, you guys were here not so long ago, weren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Jiehong spoke. “We helped out with your lake-facing siege engine problem. Then rescued a bunch of people from a work camp.”

“It was you!” the guard said, impressed, and clearly starstruck.

“Tis us, for sure!” Jiehong replied, looking happy someone recognized them for their heroics.

The guard opened the door for them right away and brought them inside. Out of politeness, Zan and Jiehong made small talk with him. Only for a few minutes.

Saying “it was a pleasure,” but making it firm, they had to be on their way, Zan only had asked the guard where the rumor mill would be, though Zan and Jiehong both already knew the rumor mill would be the local tavern.

“Jeesh… finally free of our fan,” Jiehong said once they were a distance from the front gates.

“I thought you liked it? All the attention, I mean,” Zan said in good fun.

Jiehong said, “Well, I do like attention, but only to a point.”

The two shared a laugh but otherwise found the local tavern.

Being the middle of the day, they weren’t expecting many people inside, yet when they entered, they found dozens within.

Neither boy had long to wait on why so many people were crammed inside the tavern. Many were on sleeping tarps. Clearly, the tavern had a second purpose during the war as a place to house the displaced.

Walking to the bar, Jiehong remained the leadman for all conversation. This pleased Zan. Not only did Zan not like the conversation, he found it needlessly draining. Having Jiehong take point on these matters would also give him a sense of responsibility. Zan was fine with Jiehong taking on more to help the team… even if the team right now only comprised them, two inexperienced bungling boys.

“Barkeep!” Jiehong said.

The man came over right away. He looked happy to see someone who looked different enough to (maybe) be paying customers. “What can I do you for?” he asked.

Jiehong explained why they were in town. He then asked if he had heard anything regarding the war’ odds and ends; things like communities off the beaten path needing help or splinters of enemy forces causing trouble which the main royal army could not handle. Anything which the two main factions of the conflict considered lesser.

Giving them a face and then another, the barkeep considered their question. “I’ve heard lots of stuff, boys. Really, I wish I could help ya, but there is only so much—”

Jiehong did not let the man finish his sentence. “We get it. Give us each a drink and a portion of stew and bread for lunch. Here’s your coin. Now, words?”

Smiling broadly, Zan thought the man likely hadn’t smiled so cheerfully in a long time, considering the bleak scenario of the town. He now seemed happier than a mule on a labor day. He said, “Eh, yeah, boys, I know exactly what you are talking about! A couple of folks in town have been desperately searching for aid on a couple of projects. I dunno

if you can help them, but worth a shot, right? Let me get your food ready. While you eat, I can try to find them for you, bring them here?”

“That would be fantastic,” Zan now said, cutting into the conversation.

“Excellent!” the barkeep said before heading to the back kitchen to get their meal.

Finding a table near the window unoccupied by desperate people, it wasn’t long before refugees beset Jiehong and Zan.

Most of them asked for petty coin or asked for aid for their wounds. Zan had no medical experience, though he did what he could, using the magic he had absorbed from the Slipstream before they entered town.

“Get away, you dogs!” the barkeep yelled to the refugee folk.

Setting their bread, stew, and drinks on the table, Zan asked the man, “Why are so many of these people still injured? Don’t people here know how to use magic to heal?”

Although he smiled, the barkeep said, “Neigh, young master. City life makes these people weak. Most of them never learned.”

Leaving them be, the barkeep returned to the bar to order the drink bottles. Zan had questions. “I didn’t know that,” Zan said.

“Me either,” Jiehong replied. “I don’t think that is right. Magic is a free resource given to us by the gods. They expect us to use it. Learning it is not a privilege. It is a right. A spiritual and religious right. We should have words about this with someone, at some point…”

Trailing off, Zan said picked up the topic and said, “Not like they would give us the time of day anyway, though, right? We’re just a couple of kids playing soldier. So far, the only people impressed with us are that city guard.”

“True. I guess that means we will have to grow stronger. So, people, everyone, will take us as seriously as we take ourselves,” Jiehong replied.

Turning their attention away from the fair folk of the tavern, Zan and Jiehong eat in peace, enjoying the hearty stew filled with local vegetables and meat, while washing it down with a low-alcoholic mead.

“Excuse me, young sirs?” the barkeep said. “I have some people with me who need your help.”