What was going on? Zan did not know, but the closer they got to Feathervale, the more he thought all was not well in the kingdom.

“Maybe it’s the Expanse?” Zan queried, hoping it was the enemy using a new horse-oriented tactics instead of their own countrymen.

No.

Having approached the edge of the city at the crack of dawn, once Zan and Jiehong crossed a line, they saw nothing but rebel soldiers outside the city walls.

Walking among the rebels, though, none harassed them.

The city’s front gate remained unbarred.

In fact, near the edge of a modest moat, they saw the city gates open, and from within, a small caravan of farmers, perhaps headed for the fields outside the city, passed free from molestation. No rebel, in fact, even turned an eye toward the rickey wagons as they passed through the encampment.

“What is going on here?!” Zan wondered aloud.

“Good point. I don’t know, but we need to find out and—”

Zan interrupted. He said, “Do we?”

“What do you mean?” Jiehong asked.

“I mean, this isn’t our concern, Jie. Our Order is our concern, helping to end the war is our concern. But this? Is this our concern? The so-called ‘political situation’ of our Kingship?”

“I don’t see how it isn’t our concern. As Ranger-Knights don’t we have an obligation to protect and serve? It looks like people here could use some protecting and serving since they have a rebel force hanging outside their walls!”

“We don’t know that! What we do know, however, is what we have seen with our own eyes. Namely, the people who live here are not in any distress—”

“We’ve seen one wagon go free — that’s it!”

Zan and Jiehong continued their face-off.

Breaking it off, Zan said, “Let’s go inside. Ask around. We’re here first and foremost for a language expert if any exists. Remember, Jiehong…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jie replied, clearly confused already about their purpose.

Entering the city, the rebels outside the walls were still not so much as bashing an eye-lash at them. Inside, the two youths saw a completely average town.

“Where is the fire? The destruction and devastation?” Zan asked.

Jiehong said nothing. Though being fair to him, Zan remembered how Thundervale, despite it being under siege and bombardment from the invading enemy, had not suffered immensely. The town had its issues, sure, but they had liberated it in the nick of time to prevent widespread destruction. A jolt in Zan’s mind told him, ‘perhaps we will need to do the same after all? Who knows what could happen here?’

Walking along the city’s cobblestone streets, the evident style of this part of the country for any habitation with so many people, Zan and Jiehong continued to see nothing but a totally average town.

Until they reached the town square and saw loyalist and rebels screaming at each other. Divided down the middle of the square, all the loyalists were on one side, the rebels on the other, yelling like there wasn’t a tomorrow. Zan focused his attention on the nearest altercation.

“I’ve tolerated your shenanigans long enough! You rebel scum. Take your troops and leave and I won’t call on the king to end you filth once and for all!” a plump man dressed in blue attire said.

The plump man’s interlocutor, an indistinct rebel officer who looked like any other rebel except for a bright feather tucked away in their hat, calmly replied. “Your town is now within the territory of the Democratic Alliance. We will extend your parlay in another couple of weeks. Only for you to engage your citizens and—”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The blueberry wasn’t having it, though, and continued to scream obscenities.

“This isn’t helping us,” Zan said.

“Agreed. Though asking the fellow in blue might point us in the right direction,” Jiehong said.

“Assuming he doesn’t think we’re rebels and has us jailed… like last time,” Zan said, remembering when they first entered Thundervale and were promptly arrested.

“That is always a possibility…”

Thinking it over as they watched the argument devolve, eventually, the rebel reiterated his demands and left with his retinue.

Walking by Zan and Jiehong, Zan tempted himself to ask the rebel if he knew anyone with antiquated language skills but thought better of it. Catching the eyes of the mayor, though, he figured now was better than never. Zan approached the man in mayoral blue and extended his hand for a shake.

The man, however, only batted his hand away and snarled under his breath, ‘Bramble…!’

Not knowing what ‘bramble’ meant, Zan ignored the slight as he and Jiehong went among the dispersing crowd, asking people for help.

No one offered help.

The loyalists, apparently only interested in the screaming match, ignored the boys as much as the mayor did. Crowd mentality? Zan didn’t know, as usual.

“Can someone at least point the way to the tavern?!” Jiehong yelled, feeling the pressure himself.

Someone shouted a name. “The rusty dagger? Is that what he said?” Zan asked.

Jiehong shrugged. “The town is only so big. I’m sure we’ll find one.”

Of course, being the golden boy, Jiehong stumbled onto a bar.

Unlike when they visited Thundervale, where the contents of the bar matched the emptiness of the soul during the war, here in Feathervale, the bar remained full. Zan considered it the luck of a region not yet impacted by the invasion.

“Do you have any money?” Zan asked Jiehong.

“Some. From my parents,” he replied.

The duo made their way through the crowd to find a stool near the… bar.

With raucous music blaring from a band of bards, using strange, possibly magically altered instruments to make their instruments louder than normal, Zan had to place his mouth practically next to the bartender’s ear to make him hear what he said.

After several goes at it, the conversation went something like this:

“We’re travelers! We’re looking for an academic!” Zan shouted.

“What?!” the bartender replied.

“We’re looking for an academic!”

“You need an acrobat?”

“An academic — ACADEMIC!”

The bartender rubbed his fingers together. Zan did not know what that meant. Though Jiehong did and handed the man a coin.

“Library! Old man!” the bartender shouted before wandering off to help a customer.

Zan would have called it there, but Jiehong had other plans, plans which involved alcohol.

Jiehong wandered over to another part of the main section and ordered a couple of beers. He brought them to a table recently emptied and sat down. “Drink!” he told Zan.

“What are we doing, Jie?” Zan shouted, asked.

“Chilling! What does it look like?” Jie said.

“Like. We. Are. Wasting time!” Zan said in fits to emphasize what he was saying over the loud music.

“Come off it! We spent two days walking. Two days! We can have a beer and a bed, then continue our drudgery!”

Zan did not like the idea, especially since it was early in the morning, which made him consider why the bar remained so busy. Could it be, he wondered, the same party from the night before? Zan didn’t understand tavern etiquette, though. Jiehong somehow did, maybe tales from his parents? Frustrating not knowing anything, Zan thought, his face scrunched with aggravation.

Not wanting to anger his friend after Jiehong had paid for a couple of beers, plus the information, Zan relented and sipped his beer.

It tasted bad.

That was all he had to say about the beverage. It tasted bad and made him feel bad.

Even so, Zan drank the entire beverage.

After the beverage, Zan wanted to go to bed. He felt frustrated and wanted to sleep off the drink.

Jiehong, surprise-surprise, did not want to go to bed, and only had eyes for another beer. Then another.

About to order his fifth beverage, Zan prevented the sale. He inserted himself in front of Jie and the bartender and said, “He’s had enough. No more!”

The bartender smiled, not thinking anything unusual about the request.

“What the — heck, m-man?!” Jiehong said, hiccuping slightly.

“Pay for the beds. We need sleep now!” Zan shouted.

“FINE!” Jiehong screamed as he threw down a couple more coins on the table to a bemused barmaid. She clearly had seen similar scenes before.

The barmaid handed them a room key and Zan pushed him and Jie up the stairs.

With distance and walls between them and the noise below, the sound crashing against his eardrums faded. Zan found his room easy enough despite the bad-tasting liquor lingering on his tastebuds. Would’ve been nice to have something to eat, Zan thought with bitterness.

Although Jiehong objected the whole way up, Zan ignored him. Once they were inside the room, he locked the door; he pushed his friend to the bed and told him, angrily, to sleep. He put up some final resistance, but feeling the pull of dreaming after so much exertion, Jiehong fell fast asleep.

Sitting on his own mattress, looking at Jiehong, Zan only had a single thought in his head. ‘I can’t do this for much longer.’