The mix of green and red berries ahead of the doctor had his eyes transfixed upon them. A few birds chirping in the background elicited no attention from him as his cyan-blue irises peered through the bush, at the trellis; the leaves and little thorns on the brown stems everywhere.

“Just… a little more red will do just fine…’

He glanced over to the side, finding a cherry-red berry near the top of the bush. He compared it to the other berry in his hand, left and right, before nodding and plucking the fruit and dropping it into the basket on hand.

He stood up.

“Gai! How many did I say again?”

“I think you said 100?” Gai replied, her tied hair turning over as she faced her husband picking through the trellises.

Mang keeled over as he placed another berry into his basket. The sun burned hot, running through his blue skin as he continued to sort through the bushes and trellises, the intense light of the sun gazing down upon him. Peace and quiet ringed true as he slowly and meticulously sorted through each and every fruit ahead of him, picking out those he wanted.

The rays of the sun broke.

He stared up. A shadow with ginormous wings loomed over him, speeding by; another two shadows ballooning into the air. The images cast on the ground left him in darkness as the fabric parachutes came into view; the great black othala imprinted against a pine green background clear and obvious.

A little drop scurried down his face.

“Gai!” He shouted at his wife once more. “Tell the village! The X.J are here!”

Mang stopped at once, rushing to stand up and pulling his basket away with him, tossing it against the wall as the soldiers landed on the ground, their parachutes covering his trellises, stuck in the bushes. They scowled; then pulled out knives, cutting away at the bushes as leaves fell to their feet and the plants’ stems found themselves destroyed.

He grimaced. He gulped, before proceeding towards the men, his hands behind his back, eyes firmly fixed upon the blonde-haired long-eared soldiers ahead of him. Their armbands, the same othala symbol on them; their cloth uniforms tight-fitting, with thick coats. Soldiers in the Kura territories.

“Ah- sirs. You - you may want to take off your coats in this part of the count - colonies.”

“Any way out of this fucking bush?” One of them groaned, still cutting away at the plant. Mang scurried over, before bending down to the soldier’s feet. “Sir - uh - may I?”

The soldier shrugged before Mang pulled the stems of the plant out of the soldier’s clothing by magic; the thorns shrivelling out of the way and the bush curving out of the soldier’s possessions. The soldier stepped away while Mang floated his parachute over to the ground. “There you go - sir.”

“The Sergeant wants to meet you.”

“Sergeant - um, sergeant who?”

“He’s there.” The soldier remarked, pointing over at the dragon landing some distance away in a clearing towards the mountains, the person on top slowly spinning around and jumping off. “You know, The Menace.”

Mang stared at the soldier, who seemed to be grinning from ear to ear. His eyes widened.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. The figure in the distance only grew in size; other dragons landing behind the one stopped in the plain. A small cap on his head with a silver othala on top. Mang’s eyes only widened, trembling as the man came nearer.

The features of the elven that stood upon his soil, seemingly strutting over across his land, came into view. Fair, pale ivory skin, as per usual, the same long ears, yellowed hair, a stout posture as he walked over, hands in pockets. The uniform with bronze buttons, medals, and rank insignia; with a small pipe between his lips, the puffs of smoke flying out, he suddenly raised his hands.

“Good lord!” He remarked, staring at the soldiers next to the hacked bushes with a smirk. “You could’ve landed just a bit later.”

Turning to Mang, petrified, his pearly whites showed. “Do excuse them, my good sir - may I ask for your apologies?”

Mang tapped on the ground with his boot, while letting out a grey breath after taking out his pipe. “May I?”

“Ah - yes, yes, it’s - it’s okay.”

The Menace smiled. “Wonderful! May I invite myself into your - splendid home?”

“Uhm - yes.”

“It’s Kon, by the way. Urichsteza Hansile Kon. Call me whatever you want, I daresay I’m in your courtesy.” The smug look on the Sergeant’s face continued to give Mang increasingly uncomfortable expressions.

“Er, um-”

“Actually, I’d prefer if you just call me Kon.”

“Okay...’

Mang led Kon - or did Kon lead Mang? Into his large wooden plank-exterior home, the triangular shape of his attic covered in tiles carved out of stone, and the windows all with decorative wooden patterns adorning the windowsills. As they proceeded on Kon hung his hand around Mang’s shoulder as if he was a close friend before leaning in and remarking, “When did you build this home? Quaint.”

“Ah - before the w-war, sir.”

“And it survived? You are quite the hardworking man.” He strung Mang around like some kind of hanger-on.

“T-thank you.” Mang’s words turned more and more quiet as they got closer to the house, trembling inside.

And then,

Stop.

Kon held Mang to a stop and then coughed, “The door isn’t open, for an esteemed guest? Is that the customs of… the Five Colonies?”

“Um - er. GAI!” He hollered. “Open the door, we’ve got - we’ve got a guest!”

Silence.

He shakily turned to Kon, whose expression hadn’t changed. He snickered. “Don’t be so uptight, my friend, we’re all on the same side here.”

Kon put the pipe back in his mouth, and took a puff.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Unless you tell me you’re sheltering Akari in this village, that’s another ques- what the hell is that?” He stopped again, grabbing Mang, turning him to the side and pointing at a figure in the distance. “Akari? Really? What was it doing, littering the floor?”

Mang didn’t respond, staring at Kon with wide eyes.

“Come on, you can say. We’re in charge now. The right emperor’s in charge. Tell me what’s really going on. Is it robbing you? Is it trying to deface your beautiful home? Come on.”

“Nothing… Kon.”

Just then, the door opened.

“Oh! Valenze!” He greeted the blue-skinned woman at the door. “Great god, your wife. She looks beautiful.”

“Ah… I see…”

“You should be proud of that! Not every man gets one that beautiful.” He remarked, playfully jabbing him in the back. Mang continued to give a wide-eyed, mouth ajar - an utterly and completely horrified expression. “Tch. Not very talkative are you? What do you work as?”

“I… I am a doctor.”

“A doctor, you say? One of my men got bitten by a lo’ganpo, could you help him? Herbs and such?”

“I’ll see… what I can do.” He muttered as the two passed from natural light into lantern light.

The wooden floors were adorned with a light fabric flooring, a lantern strung above from the ceiling. A flowery smell brought out the very distinct scent of sweet fauna and Kon stretched out his arms, a marvelous grin coming upon his face. “BRILLIANT!” He exclaimed.

Looking at Gai, who stood still as she shot suspicious glances at the Sergeant prancing through their home, Kon suddenly stopped. “My lady,” He remarked, lowering his head somewhat, “would you mind giving me a glass of… water?”

Gai shook her head and scurried off.

“Beautiful. Utterly beautiful.” He remarked. “As for you, doctor. Show me to your… work-quarters, should we say?”

“I… I see…”

“By the way? Do you have any children?”

“Yes. Um… one daughter, one son. Both, babies...”

“Marvelous.”

The two proceeded to the end of the hallway and into a little room with a large entrance in the side; a small desk in the corner with some wooden files stacked next to it, the chair behind yanked open. The intense herbal mixture that greeted the noses of both men emnated from the large holding-shelf of drugs and medicine on the side of the room, a large stone block in the middle with little bits of equipment placed on a smaller table to the side.

“Show me your register.”

“What?”

“I said what I meant. Show me your register.”

“No. No, sir, no. This is village-only. We don’t give this to outsiders.”

“Oh, I see.” Kon stopped and placed the pipe into his mouth again; Mang sitting on his chair and staring up at the sergeant.

The silence cut at him. Another bead of sweat slid down his face.

A little puff of smoke.

Kon put it away, and repeated, “Give me the register, doctor!”

“No.”

The dagger moved faster than words.

The doctor stumbled backwards into the darkness. He stared at the massive pool of red flushing out of his stomach while one of the soldiers swiped the fallen register from the ground. Croaking against the wall, leaning against the wooden desk from which parchment fell down by the dozen, his vision faded out.

“Sir-” A soldier said, scrambling down the hallway to meet Kon.

“Do whatever the hell you want with him. I’d personally say noggin him, but your choice.”

Through Mang’s head the spear went before the soldier pulled it out. The festering corpse on the ground stared up, eyes still wide open, back at the sergeant.

“Take the male children… take the women if you so please. One settlement won’t make much of a fucking difference. Oh, and take his girl baby and kill her, would you?” He grinned.

He stepped out into the hallway before going right up to Gai, holding a small wooden cup of water.

“Lovely,” he remarked, swiping the cup out of her hands and downing the contents. “Where are your children, miss?”

“Um…” She pointed at the door behind him.

“I’ll take a look then, is that fine with you?”

“...yes…”

“Lovely. Cooperation!” He screamed, before kicking down the door and walking into the dark room; two small beds to his right on the floor. “If you’d excuse me…”

He scooped up one of the babies sleeping, waking them up as he turned back to Gai, trembling. The child in his hands wailed.

“Come off it, what’s this boy’s name?” He remarked to her in the dark room.

Gai stalled, before replying, “Mi-mi… Miru…”

----------------------------------------

18 YEARS LATER

THREE HOURS AFTER SHIRIN AND WEI HAVE BOTH LEFT THE PRISON

“Ma’am!”

The sound of a hurried soldier drowned in the sea of voices all ringing out around Miru. Her silver hair entirely stained black, her skin still blotched black, she continued to pace the room, accepting feedback from men surrounding her. The sea of elven around her all clamoured, screaming:

“We have three guys down in protection division!”

“We need more reinforcements down in Section C! The prisoners are getting rowdy!”

“I don’t even have a fucking platoon leader anymore, ma’am!”

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME EVERYTHING ONE AT A TIME!” Miru hollered, the noise slowly fizzling out as she went up and looked around, flooding through the crowd of soldiers around her. “All Class ranks, get over here, FALL IN!”

A few men pushed through the crowd. More specifically, just three men and Kari, who stepped in front of her and stood still.

“Four… we have FOUR of nine left…” She groaned. Looking at them, she ran down the list.

Miru pointed at the man on the farthest left, with a balding head and of a shorter stature. “Hen, you’re on Protection, right?”

He grunted, “Yes.”

“You’ve just been given a field promotion.” She stopped, and he stared at her quietly. “Until this nonsense is all under control you are in charge of the entire Protection wing, I know you’ll do the job. Get me a report by sundown of the damages to our defences.

“Poik.” She gestured to the man on the right, combed hair like the rest of the elven soldiers and fresh bruises on his face. “Before you get injury treatment get down on the ground floor with the others and begin cleanup. Get what’s left of the slaves and the prisoners to clean up the lower floors, they’re all flooded now.”

“Affirmative, ma’am.”

“Kari, and Salim.” She turned to the last two. “You’re on compilation detail with me. Get what’s left of our communications equipment - dragons, signals, everything - and get it working by the end of today. Might sound hard but it’s going to be necessary. There are twenty thousand men marching down the plateau into Otisk and their reinforcements and supplies need to be maintained.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Gotcha, Miru.”

The latter response, given by Kari, raised eyebrows in some of the soldiers and Hen, who glared at her.

“Oy, you lot, I don’t want you messing around. Go, go, go, fall out! We’re done here, you sort out the men!” She stood firm.

Miru stormed off through the darkened halls, holding a small lantern in hand. Her tattered trenchcoat waved behind her as she slowly took it off, leaving only the tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt underneath, black marks cloaking it like a shroud.

Down the corridor she passed the storage rooms and then the armoury and then the barracks; past the quartermaster’s rooms and past the action room - and instead into the officers’ lounge, dark and dingy.

Flicker.

A single light came on, the orange tint lighting up Miru’s blue skin with a glowing hue. The lounge remained bare, with simply a single rectangular leather seat ahead of a flat desk, a large harp in the corner; dust collecting across the entire room.

Then, the barrel.

She picked up the lone cup on the desk before yanking the lid of the barrel off and scooping the violet-purple liquid inside into the wooden cup, the pungent smell of wine meeting her nose. She fastened the barrel’s lid again, before lying back on the rest of the seat and downing the entire cup at one go.

“Fuck.” She muttered. Miru glanced back at the barrel once more.

The cup, in the blink of an eye, filled again with alcohol. In a flash it had returned to being largely empty.

“Fuuuuuuck…” She moaned. “Why do I have to do fucking everything around here?”

She pulled at her hair.

“FUCK.”

She paused for a moment, before muttering, “She knows.”

“And I can’t kill her.”

Miru stopped.

She glanced back at the barrel again.