“That went well,” Bravham said as she approached Uldar. The Shalemite woman mounted her horse with grace as she said her prayer of forgiveness. “Do you still want to do this?”

“Do you?” Uldar asked as he mounted his shaggy, dark-brown mare. He didn’t say any prayer asking the horse for forgiveness. Grundar didn’t have Bershalem’s notions about the divinity of horses. In all the time he’d lived there, he found Grundar had only one thing sacred: winning.

“The king of Grundar must be stopped. He’ll eventually be able to invade Bershalem. Plus, there’s no more work here. It’d be boring to stay in Sever singing all day,” Bravham said with a smile.

Uldar returned the smile as he turned to his gathering Reds. Bravham had been with Uldar for years, and he was happy she was able to come from the lower continent, not a short journey across the Ocean Bridge, and bring with her the dozen Reds from there.

A beautiful and short woman, Bravham sat low and rock-hard in her saddle. Her sandy-blonde hair was in a tail at the back and her round face seemed to glow with confidence.

The group of Reds was in the center of Sever, the capitol city of Severdom.

The city had grown from a small village to a bustling town. Ancient wooden buildings with chipping layers of paint mixed with magnificent stone structures, like the Sevens Prophets headquarters. The only thing bigger than the headquarters was the palace and castle. Both stood behind a huge but old and crumbling wall, the barrier of the city before it expanded beyond it.

Uldar saw the newly made flag of Severdom flying on Meric’s palace. It was the same as the old one, a blue eagle with its talons spread in front of red and white stripes. But now three lightning bolts crossed the flag. One yellow, one white, one red, making the flag seem ripped but still beautiful.

“When do we leave?” Bravham asked as men and women got on horses and tightened straps, cinches creaking as they did.

“Tomorrow morning. Give them one last night in Sever. Then we’ll march toward Meric’s wall, and Grundar,” Uldar said, and looked at the palace, hoping King Meric wouldn’t make a fuss about losing his favorite Prophet.

Bravham nodded, and put her hand on Uldar’s. He was clenching his reins so tightly his hands were white. When he felt her touch, he loosened.

“Meet at the square before dawn. Take care of whatever business you have now while you can. Until then,” Bravham said to the Reds, young and old gathered together behind the two leaders, and nodded in dismissal.

Some moved away grudgingly, grumbling that they wanted to start now. Some went slow, waiting to see if Uldar had more to say, or if the others would change their minds. Most simply took the dismissal without care, walking away as if tomorrow was nothing special.

Uldar watched them as they left. They took no notice of this, and merely went about their business. Bravham could see his concern. Her horse danced a bit, and she stopped him without even moving her reins. The horse nodded his head, his blond mane swishing over his eyes, and obeyed Bravham’s commands.

“They’re not sorry for what you did,” she said to Uldar.

“What?” Uldar asked, in a daze as he thought back to memories with the people he was watching.

“I said they’re not sorry. They all wanted to come today. And they all want to go tomorrow.”

Provisions had already been made for their journey. Uldar had not expected the other Prophets to agree with him, so he’d made ready to leave without their help. One hundred and eleven Red Sevens Prophets, all native to the planet Triumph, now knew what was ahead of them. Some were armed with swords, some daggers, some axes, some maces or war hammers but all were blessed with the Red Power.

“And everyone came. I still can’t believe you convinced Selin to shift the ones from the other continents, especially from Malica,” Uldar said.

“Like you said before, there are few nations out there, just towns needing defense against bandits. That’s Gold work anyhow. You just needed to be a little bit, let’s say, less forceful with your asking,” Bravham said, and laughed.

Uldar smiled but couldn’t laugh. “That is, we’ve brought all but one,” he said.

“What?” Bravham looked around.

“Ramis.” Uldar pulled out his dagger. Outside the headquarters, he could twirl a dagger without worrying people. “Ramis Drell, before he became a Prophet. He’s not here. I think he lives somewhere in Severdom, but he didn’t come.”

“He probably got held up, family business or something,” Bravham said. Uldar kept twirling his right dagger and looking at things, so Bravham quickly took it out of his hand. “You’re gonna drive me crazy with that.”

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“Do you think he doesn’t want to come? Is that the reason he’s not here? Because he knows that what we’re going to do isn’t worth the sacrifice?” Uldar asked, not caring about his dagger.

Bravham sighed and looked down at Uldar’s blade in her hand. “You tell me.” She handed back the dagger and rode off.

Uldar held his weapon and blinked as Bravham rode out of sight. He stood there thinking for a long time, his horse impatiently stamping her hoof.

The one hundred and eleven Red Prophets crossed the streets of Sever amidst joyous singing as the sun rose over Sever’s off-white walls and multi-colored buildings. The city’s people were vastly different from when Uldar first came there some fifty years ago. Then it was a warring people who cared only for conquest and glory, wanting to spread the greater good of civilization to the lesser cultures. Now there was singing.

As Uldar gazed at the newly built Sever College, he saw a fair woman with bright green eyes look up from her book to smile at him. It made him sad that he wouldn’t live to see this peaceful way of life prosper.

“Are they afraid?” Uldar asked Bravham. He looked at his fellow Reds. They seemed calm and ready for the journey.

“Stuff that talk, Uldar, I’m tired of it,” Bravham said. Uldar twirled his dagger. Bravham sighed. “Sorry, late night. Last time in Sever, you know how it is.” Bravham gave a weak laugh as they passed out of sight of the college. “Some are afraid. But we all trust you. And we believe in the cause. This is the right thing to do, Uldar.” She made a clicking noise with her cheek and her horse stepped around a small rock in their path that would have tripped him up. “I’ve thought that over a lot lately, more so last night, and I know that we have to send a big message to this world. We’re right. History will prove it.”

Uldar nodded.

They didn’t see any other Prophets. The Golds and Whites were sad to see them go, but wouldn’t shame themselves by waving farewells, and the common people did not yet know of their mission.

At the round-towered, high gates to the city, they met with an odd sight. Fifty of the king’s guard, their thick plate and scale armor shining in the dawn and glinting off raised pikes, along with two hundred armed soldiers stood on the walls and streets all around the gate. As the Prophets approached, Uldar could see the king of Severdom on a barded horse in the middle of this elite battalion.

Uldar did not slow. He knew, as well as the king, that he and his host could defeat this group. None of the mounted Red Prophets so much as raised an eyebrow as they approached. The king put out a hand in greeting as Uldar stopped his horse face to face with the powerful man.

“I cannot allow you to leave, Uldar Prophet of the Red Power,” King Meric said. He looked worried and not a little intimidated by Uldar. The newly fashioned ring of a crown shone on Halium Meric’s head. It was made of three golden lines with round jewels of ruby, sapphire, and diamond in three positions on its front. The crown gave a wise and powerful demeanor to the aging king.

“Step aside, King. I respect you and love your kingdom, but I must leave the city,” Uldar said, glancing at the crossbowmen now aiming at him.

“Grashic told me what you want to do. She said she could not change your mind. You should have seen her, Uldar. She nearly cried. I never thought that I’d see…” the king said in his rough, aged voice, laughing a bit then clearing his throat awkwardly. He reined in his nervous horse and softened his voice. “Uldar, you are my friend. You fought with my father and helped me bring peace here from the beginning. Why do you want to abandon me now?”

“I am needed elsewhere,” was all Uldar said.

“You are needed here. Why go to Grundar — we are safe from them. My wall will make sure that peace will be here forever, and keep those brigands safely distant. Haven’t we talked many nights about games on the square, and painting the Northern Forest?”

Uldar turned away, incredibly tempted to give in to the desire to stop fighting. “Your wall is not a barrier to keep them out,” Uldar said, and, determined, turned back to the king. “It’s an arrogant sign that will burn in their thoughts for centuries.”

“Please do not get philosophical with me again, brother,” Meric said, putting his bared hands up, pleading. “I am doing what is right for my people, not barbarians. And I am also doing what is best for you.” The king nodded to two thickly armored guards. They stepped forward with chains. “You must listen to reason, Uldar. And if not reason, force.”

Uldar sensed the urgency boiling in his Reds and raised his leather-gloved hand to stop them from unsheathing their weapons. Bravham drew her curved saber, but Uldar shook his head and she grudgingly put it back in its scabbard.

“I don’t like to fight others anymore, Uldar. Please go willingly,” the king pleaded.

The guards took the shackles and reached for Uldar’s hands, the metal clinking against their armor.

It all happened very, very fast. Right before the men with shackles reached his right hand, Uldar drew his two long daggers. Uldar threw one in the air over the heads of the crossbowmen. He smashed the hilt of the other on the head of one of the men with the chains. Then, using his free hand, he quickly pushed himself out of the saddle and leapt toward the line of soldiers.

Deflecting multiple bolts with his dagger, Uldar landed next to the crossbowmen and caught his other dagger as he landed. Immediately, his fast Red Power daggers connected with the heads of all the crossbowmen. He hit with the small, round pommel on all. Seeing three guards with drawn swords, he pointed his daggers and let loose the power within him into a small blast.

Quick beams of red light shot from the blades and went into the men. He was not as skilled in this power, and could only knock men unconscious, but that was all he wanted to do. Quickly, he leapt at the king over the fallen men before more could come. The king was wide-eyed in shock as Uldar pulled him off his horse.

Uldar put no blade to his friend. He merely held the man. But the Red Power had many uses. Uldar was one of very few ever from all of Triumph to be able to drain others’ energy. Many could do it to objects, but that rarely came in use on a technologically inferior planet such as Triumph. Uldar used his power to drain the king’s energy, but in a very controlled and slow way. The guards all knew Uldar could do this, and stopped short of attack.

Meric grew limp in Uldar’s arms.

“You have disbanded the Armies of Destiny and ended your wars, my king,” Uldar said, “so I have no quarrel with you. But you cannot keep me here. My quarrel is with the king of the land of my birth. I will stop him from becoming who your ancestors were.”

Uldar let go of the king and set him on his feet. “Now let us pass,” Uldar said.