Rhodevus: Forever Free [Nation Maintenance] [CLOSED]

[Rhodevus]

This thread is for nation maintenance. It will be filled with stories related to Rhodevus from time immemorial to well into the future. Most will revolve around characters as opposed to the nation as a whole. Each post will be a separate entity, unless otherwise specified. As more posts fill this thread, each story can be found in the Table of Contents below. Of note, some of the content is more mature than elsewhere on Nationstates. None is meant to be mature for the sake of maturity, but to show important factors of a character's life and further along their story-arc. You have been warned. If you have any questions or ideas of interest, please Telegram me directly. Under no circumstances should anyone other than those I ask personally post in this thread. Everything posted here, unless otherwise stated is a part of Rhodevus's official canon.

Table of Contents:
Diana Wolff

• Imprisoned, Part 1
• Imprisoned, Part 2
• Imprisoned, Part 3
• Imprisoned, Part 4
• Climb, Part 1
• Climb, Part 2
• Yestin

Sierra Everen-Abrams

• Homeless, Part 1
• Homeless, Part 2
• Homeless, Part 3
• Fire
• Heir
• Princess

Zaira Timmel

• Family, Part 1
• Family, Part 2
• Family, Part 3

Amaia Windbreaker

• Amaia and Her Many Names
• Hunt, Part 1
• Hunt, Part 2
• Nomad, Part 1 (Hunt)
• Nomad, Part 2 (Hunt)
• Nomad, Part 3 (Hunt)
• Frost, Part 1 (Hunt)

Others

• The Project (Sergeant Major Taylors)
• The Bench (Nathanial Timmel)
• Choice (Benner Wolff)
• The Great (Benner Wolff)
• Growth (Gabriel Hopplin)

[Rhodevus]

Imprisoned, Part 1

Cold. It was the one true feeling which Diana could cling to. Hard cement paled her skin, sending shivers through her bare toes up into her spine. Her thick sweater and jeans had been replaced with prison rags; rips from use and too thin to provide any relief. No shoes or even socks protected her. No comfort came from huddling in the fetal position, nor from rubbing her arms and neck. It was perpetual and unrelenting. Her thoughts, which had once been focused on menial tasks, such as what she was going to make for dinner, or if she should call her father or mother before bed had since echoed only a single phrase ‘I have to get warm.’ I have to get warm, a concept that she never thought she would utter in her life, coming from the life that she did. No tears fell. It was too cold to cry.

Grey. The dominant colour all around her. The floor, the three and a half walls and the large cylindrical bars which made up her only window to the outside world. Even across her window, into the bleak grey halls of whichever building she was imprisoned by gave her no comfort. For there was no comfort to give. The only colours of significance were the white of her empty mattress, a place to sleep without so much as a drape to use as a blanket, and the bright silver of her slop bucket. It was comforting to know that her captors at least did not expect her to make a mess of the very floor she walked on, when she needed to urinate. One common curtesy at least, amongst all the pain and discomfort that had happened since she had been locked away. Four weeks. Or at least as best as Diana could surmise was four weeks. With no sunlight it was near impossible to tell the time of day. It was possible that her captors had been feeding her irregularly. Two cups of water, a slice of bread about the size of her hand, and a slice of either apple or carrot, the size of her index finger. So far, she had been given meat once. What had looked like meat at least. It was the only filling meal she had had since her unfortunate arrival.

There was little in the way of communication. Her assailants wore head guards, covering their faces from view. They refused to answer any of her questions, but did grunt occasionally when she asked them if it was morning. It was her only way of telling time, and even then it was very unreliable. Diana had not yet given up hope. Hope for what, she was not yet sure. Human company for one thing. A proper night’s sleep for another. She wondered desperately where her brother was. Where her father was. By now, one of them should have been looking for her. Someone around the country should have been. She missed Uncle Richard. Not a true uncle, but her god-father whom she had come to love as much as her true father loved him. As he had often reminded her, “Benner and I were raised like brothers, you know.” She wanted to hear his laugh again. Anyone’s laugh. Any noise besides the occasional tapping of water droplets from some other unseen cell and the grunt of her assailants.

“Eitha no dreara. To neh fassi. Neia kudra.” It took Diana a moment to realize that the voice her was hearing was speaking in Laaban Rhodevan. “She’s in there. She seems completely lost already. I did not realize it happened so quickly.”
Diana for the first time in hours stood up and rushed to the small barred window, pressing her nose through it to pick up on any human sound she could.
“You have not spoken to her?”
“No sir. Just like you said. She doesn’t even know what happened to your-”
“Shut it or I will have to kill you. She understands more languages than the both of us combined. She is most definitely listening to us right now.”

Diana flung herself away from the door, crawling her way back to the edge of her bed, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Her eyes were wide with fright. She trembled, though she remained unsure if it was because of the cold, or the echoing footsteps which drew the voice nearer to her. For the first time since her arrival, she heard the jingle of keys enter the lock on the other side. This time, she shook with fear, pushing even harder against the wall and mattress. There was no protection against what was on the other side.

The heavy door slid open to two men. Their faces blocked out by the white light behind them. They stepped into the cell with her. A small whimper left her lips.
“Don’t be frightened.” Said a calm, nearly soothing voice, spoken in English. The man knelt down so his face came into view. His non-threatening eyes filled Diana with relief. His face was clean-shaven, with only a small amount of stubble remaining on his upper lip and chin. His raven black hair and pale blue eyes might have made him attractive in a different setting.

“Where am I?” Diana stuttered quietly, afraid that her voice would fail her.
“Don’t worry, my lady. You are safe in Rhodevus. No harm will come to you. Just please try to answer me truthfully and then I will be able to call for a bath, and maybe some clean clothes and good food. Does that sound alright?”

This voice was hypnotic. Both strong and soothing and perfectly masculine. Diana nodded slowly, unable to take her eyes off of his. He slowly stepped forward. Diana let him.

“What is the last thing you remember?” His eyes screamed compassion and pity.
“I don’t know.” Diana whispered.
“Anything my dear.”
“I was coming back from Eubatu. Business.” The man nodded for Diana to continue. She obliged. “I got a call from my brother. Jamie sounded worried and wanted me to come see him at home. He wanted me to stay on the phone. Wanted to hear my voice, he said. I remember getting on a taxi. And then nothing. I woke up here, already in these clothes.”
“I am sorry we had to change you into these clothes. It was for you own safety and protection.”
“I… I don’t understand.” Diana struggled to speak.
“Do you know what has been going on these last few weeks?”
Diana shook her head, “nothing.”
“Do you know where Richard Weivar is?”
Diana looked up at him and then to the burly man behind him, who had not moved since the cell doors had opened. His arms were crossed over his chest and his face was still masked by shadow. Only the square features of his nose and chin were distinguishable.
“Has he been hurt?”
The man shook his head slowly, a half-smile appearing on his lips. It was charming. “No, but he has done something incredibly wrong. He has done something against your family.”
“No, I don’t believe you. He loves us all.”
“But, he has always favoured you, hasn’t he.” It was not a question.

Diana tried to deny it, but she knew it was no use. Every newspaper had made it public how much the two cared for each other. James was always there too, but there was a clear favourite child.
“Did he contact you before your brother did?”
“I… no. No he didn’t.”
The man’s mouth shaped into puzzlement and then anger. His eyes remained kind, yet now seemed glossy and unfocused.
“You seem unsure of yourself. Richard might be a fugitive against the law. It is vital to everyone, including those in your family that he is caught and questioned. We don’t want anyone to be hurt, especially him. So, I ask you again. Did he contact you, and what did he tell you.”

“He didn’t tell me anything.”
“Ah, so he did contact you.”
“No, I haven’t spoken to him since my flight from Eubatu was cancelled. It’s why I took a boat instead.”
“So, the reason for your delay in arrival to the country was because you took a boat instead of waiting for the next flight?”
“I don’t understand your questioning. Please, Richard did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. I took a boat instead of flying home. That’s it. Please let me go.”

The man shook his head, his eyes hardening as he stood up, towering over Diana. “You are not answering me truthfully. I need your full cooperation, Diana. I will be back in a few days to ask you again. I really hope you have changed your answer since then.”

The man left the cell, closing the door behind him, though it remained unlocked. The burly man remained behind. Diana crawled further back, huddling in the corner of her cold, grey cement cell. He turned to face her. A gleam in his eye and a twitch turning his lips into a smile which would haunt her dreams. As he stepped closer to her, Diana knew what to expect. It did not save her.

An hour later, the cell door swung open once more as the massive man exited and locked the cell behind him. Diana lay on her hands and knees, quivering. Her prison rags were torn into ruin. She was unable to move, covered and laying on top of her filth. Her body shook violently, as blood trickled down from her cracked bottom lip. And for the first time in four weeks, she felt a new emotion.

And she cried.

[Rhodevus]

Homeless, Part 1

It was a regular day for Sierra as she wandered the St. John’s Military Base on the Ile du Fleurs. A sunny February with perfect weather. Soldiers marched in formation while others ran the obstacle course. She paused to watch as two men raced each other through the mud-pit, over the climbing wall, across the monkey-bars and into Lake Riviera. The lake was a small man-made one; more of a pond than a real lake and something that could be swam in just a minute or two. The course record was 2 minutes and 13 seconds. Sierra’s was 2 minutes 19.

While only seventeen years of age, too young to join any branch of the military, Sierra was one of the most well-known people on the base. Although, her celebrity status had less to do with her and more to do with her superstar parents. Major-General Daniel and Strategy-General Margaret Abrams. Two more in a long line of soldiers whom could be traced back to the founding of the Kingdoms. Great things were to be expected of Sierra. She should know, mother and father had told her so often enough.

A soldier passed the finish line; 2 minutes 48 seconds. His companion hit 3 minutes 2 seconds. Impressive times for the course, but much was left for improvement. Sierra could easily pick out various problems each had performed as well as methods for improving. They might even listen to her if she threw the parent card, which she tried to do as rarely as possible. It was always nice to be on base on Sundays. That was when the new recruits would make up most of the personnel. None knew her, though many would come to know her name, just from their superiors waving to her or asking her various questions. Even so, it was not strange to have minors walk through the base, or even be known by the ranking officers. Many had children or family or even friends who had yet to be conscripted into the military yet.

Sierra walked along the gravel pathway, moving to the left as a team of twenty or so soldiers jogged by, singing a classic Native Rhodevan war song. Sierra would be humming the tune for the next few hours. Her cell phone ringed loudly in her pocket. Flipping it open, she was assaulted by the ramblings of her father, with her mother talking in the background.
“Si, mother still believes that you are planning to join the navy next year. I am just trying to convince her that we already decided on the army. A true foot soldier us Abramses are!”
“And yet we had the same discussion.” Mother grumbled in the background.
“Don’t mind her. You’re on base today, right? Make sure to get your exercises in. Always better to do them on base than at home, am I right?”
“And don’t forget that you are writing your boating license test tomorrow!”

Sierra sighed. It was always like this with her family. Her parents especially. She could not understand why they would not leave her alone. To grow up with a somewhat normal childhood, even if she was forced to move around from base to base as a child of the military. Many people her age would understand. But no, not only was she to be moved around, she would be taught at an accelerated rate. She would spend every waking hour under the view of her mother or father. A 5 mile run here, or a test on military history there. Anything to turn her into the perfect Abrams family soldier. Nobody had even asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Because it most certainly was not being a soldier.

She kicked a rock a few feet forward, watching it roll onto the grass and tapping the boot of a soldier. A private. He knelt down and picked it up, turning it over in his hand before turning to face her. He gave a half smile that some might consider charming. He was not that bad-looking, Sierra could admit, but she rolled her eyes anyways and continued to walk down the path. No man in uniform or out was all that appealing. Anyways, she had just broken up with her boyfriend of four months. William. Sweet guy, but Sierra could never seem to click properly with him.

“Stand at the ready!” She heard a familiar voice say. “Attention!”
Sierra watched as a platoon of soldiers all saluted in her direction, a smug grin coming from a sergeant by the name of John Henry. A man a year and a half older than Sierra herself and someone she would not have met had she been educated at her own grade level. “At ease.” She said to the platoon giving her own version of a mock salute, along with a small laugh. She walked over to John.

“Hey, this your new team?” Sierra asked, after her ordered the motley group to perform a round of push-ups. John shook his head.
“No, I’m getting my platoon assigned to me in a couple weeks. For now, I’m just taking over from Greym. She wanted me to work them hard enough so she would seem like the lenient leader.”
“Greym lenient?” Sierra muffled a giggle. “I never thought I would ever hear those two words together. Mom and Dad even send me to her when they want to give me a proper workout. And you know how intense they are.”

John turned back to look at his team. “Are they still up your ass over choosing your branch?”
“Uh huh. I don’t know how to get them to lay off. For god sake, I am done high school already; I have essentially a year or more off to figure out what I want to do, or even do things for myself, and they seem to be pressuring me even harder.”
“Well, looking on the bright side, at least you’re in IdF. And your parents are supposedly stationed here for another 10 or so months.”
“I made them promise not to move for another year. Told them it would improve my mental well-being to stay in one place.”
“Did they buy it?”
Sierra laughed. “Doubt it. But, they did promise, so at least that’s happening. Oh, your guys seem to be done.”
“Care to give them a true Abrams style workout?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
John smiled wickedly before turning his full attention to his soldiers. “Listen up! I have a nice treat for you. With me here is Ms. Abrams. She’s still deciding which branch to join, but she already is in better shape than you lot. I’m going to let her work you for the next hour. Any of you which make it through can take leave next weekend.”

A few of the soldiers laughed, only to stop suddenly when Sierra eyed them. “Well, since you guys just did pushups, I guess you can do some sit-ups.” She said to them, feigning confusion and shyness. “How does 100 standers sound? Followed by 50 burpies and then a few laps around the base sound? For starters.”

There was a few groans, followed by comments about how she would not be able to accomplish it. Sierra smiled, taking the bait. “And I’ll be doing them right alongside you.” The twinkle in her eye meant she meant business. And in this case, her eyes were glistening.

“John, mind holding my feet?” John smirked, doing just that. Sierra lay down on her back on the soft grass, turning so that John’s body blocked the sun from her eyes. Quickly, she pulled herself forward into a sit-up and then continued on until she was standing face to face with John. Or, more appropriately, face to neck. She bent her knees and lay back down, only to perform the entire exercise again. Once finished, she continued on to her burpies. Only halfway through did the first of the team of soldiers start their second task.

These were fresh, raw-faced recruits. Greym definitely did receive some lackluster soldiers for her platoon. By the time the last of them had finished, they were all covered in sweat and weak at the knees. “Time to run.” Sierra said happily, jumping into a jogging rhythm that suited her, with Josh right beside her. The men followed as closely as they could.

“So, how are we doing for time?” Sierra commented.
“Not as much time as you would have liked. And seriously, Sierra? Didn’t you get your parents to give us this very drill in high school two years ago?”

Sierra nodded. She had nearly forgotten that John Henry had gone to school with her in Acadia as well. Just like her parents, his were also both career soldiers. He used to move around almost as frequently as she did. It was nice to know someone with such a similar family, even though his parents were much kinder in the way of soldiering.

“So, have you told them that you plan to leave the military after your conscription is up?”
“Not yet. I’m not sure when I would even have a chance to. Between them always working and then giving me more work to do. Like seriously, I think I’ve taken more tests and worked harder after I graduated under the tutelage of mom and dad than I ever did while actually in school.”
“You know you are going to need to tell them eventually. If not, they will be planning out your whole life.”
“And you think they haven’t already? Let’s face it; my entire life was planned the moment I was born. Maybe even before that. I think it might be easier to escape.”
“Why not?”
“Why not, what?”
“Why not escape? You have a year off, why not do something that you might want to do. Or at least a different experience.”
“I don’t know…”
“Think about it. My big bro spent a summer in the Commonwealth volunteering for a hospital. Building shelters for the homeless or something. You have a year off, why not spend some of that free time abroad? Or at least abroad from your parents.”
“I don’t know, I’ll have to think it over. Thanks for everything John. Ming if I leave them with you a bit early? I have some soul searching to do.”
“No worries. Hey, before you go, anything you want me to get them do to?”
“Try flagpole challenge. I bet you can round up some other officers to help you pelt them with sand balloons.” Sierra’s eye twinkled as a half-smile appeared on her lips.

[Rhodevus]

Homeless, Part 2

Sierra continued her jog away from the base, John Henry and Greym’s platoon. It was a beautiful day in the Ile du Fleurs and she always did get her best thinking done while on the go. Just one more thing which she inherited from her parents. She repeated her conversation with John in her head. She wanted nothing more than to leave her parents behind and create a life for herself away from their near universal hold on her activities.

The blue sky overhead held only small wispy clouds in a plethora of shapes. A soft wind blew from the Southeast grazing through the grass and gravel and asphalt. Finally, she made it to the edge of the base, giving the security guard a short wave before continuing on through the gates onto the public docks. The Ile du Fleurs was nearly entire surrounded by docks and ports, only broken up by white sandy beaches that were filled with tourists at all times of the year. Sierra made a point of avoiding them as often as possible.

Her quick steps brought her through the Bainview district with all its fancy yachts and even fancier Oceanside homes. She looked out at the people sipping wine on their decks and the kids sliding down the waterslides into the cool water below. Sierra wished she could go back to a time when the biggest challenge she faced was whether to go down the slide or climb the monkey-bars.

Finally, she stepped onto the Abrams property, an average sized home with a large Rhodeve flag in the front yard. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, stretching out her arm and pulling away the loose braid that was in her hair. “No juice Sierra.” Her mother called from her upstairs’ office. Sierra immediately closed the fridge, grumbling. “Hi mom!” She called up.

“Your father will be home in a few minutes. You came back earlier than we expected. Weren’t you on base?” Sierra decided to climb the stairs instead of continuing to shout across the floors.
“Hey mom.” Sierra commented, leaning against the doorframe, taking a bite from an apple.

“No eating in my office.” Her mother said, not turning her attention from her dual screens. Sierra knew better than try to sneak a peek.
“I’m not in your office.”
“Apples weren’t a part of your post-exercise regimen for this week.”
“Ya, well. I decided to take a skip day.”
“Sierra, you can’t keep on putting off your exercises and diet. You need to be in perfect physical and mental condition if you want to become an officer in the navy.”
“I thought I was going to be a foot-soldier today.”
“We both know that you would hate being a footsoldier. The navy is more your style.”
“Is it mom? Is it really?” Sierra’s voice grew coarse as her annoyance rose. “Have I once shown any interest in boats in my 17 years living with you?”
“Then I guess we’ll just skip this week’s episode of The Queens of the Sea.”
Sierra’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “Well, have I shown any interest in actually learning how to use a boat?”
“Not yet, but you will learn. Just as you will get a boating license. Study up for tomorrow.”
Sierra rolled her eyes. She was thinking of failing it just to spite her mother. “Maybe I will join the Diplomacy Stream.”
Margaret paused from her work, turning to Sierra. Her eyes were stone. “Don’t even joke about such things. Abramses have been soldiers since the beginning. As have us Clarences. We expect-”
“-great things. Yes I know. You won’t shut up about it. Army, army, army. Navy, navy, navy. That’s my life.”
“Good. Now go set the table for dinner. Your father is bringing home take-out.”
“Glad we had this two-way discussion.” Sierra said smugly, taking a hard, loud bite of her apple.
Sierra set the table just as her mother had ordered. Plate in the center, glass to the top right, fork and knife overtop a napkin on the left and spoon on the right. The vase of flowers which usually stood in the middle of the table was moved to the kitchen countertop. Sierra heard the familiar click of the door unlocking, swinging open for her father who was carrying two bags of food and still wearing his military uniform. “I’m home! And I have some news to share with you all.”

Sierra walked up to her father, who handed the bags over to her. Whatever smile she had when he arrived had vanished, leaving only a gloomy expression and her usual teenage attitude. The food itself was unimportant. Sierra could not even come to take more than a few bites, preferring to roll it around on her plate, creating unique shapes.

“So?” Margaret questions, leaning forward in her chair. “What’s the news?”
“You know how StratCom has been working day and night to reintroduce a centralized Northern command center?”
“Uh huh? I heard about that. My division of course has been more focused on the goings on down in The Bohin. Brotherhood activity. The Ub Jabab province seems to be acting up again…”
“Mind continuing dad?” Sierra exclaimed aggravated, “You told us about your strategy meeting with the king already. Woopdy-doo, you met the big man.”
“Si. We’re just making conversation.” Her mother said with a glare.
“Anyways,” Daniel continued, “the Northern command has been green lit. Most numbers have so far been classified until we get there, even I don’t know them yet, but it seems to be like a great place.”

Sierra looked up, unsure if she had heard her father properly. “What did you say?”
“The numbers are classified for the Northern Command.”
“No, after that. Are we moving there?”
“Well, how am I going to run the Northern Command Center unless I am present on base? It’s only a year.”
“That seems wonderful! Congratulations Daniel.” Margaret cheered, leaning over the table to kiss her husband.

Sierra slammed her hands hard on the table. “No.”
“This isn’t your decision Si. It’s for the good of the country and I already declared my intent to-”
“Declared your intent.” Sierra mocked. “What about your promise? Your promise to me that we’d stay here until I join the military?”
“If I remember correctly, I promised we’d stay here until after you graduated.”
“It was implied dad. You both rushed me through my education. We were supposed to stay here for another year. Just one more year dad. It would have been the longest I ever stayed in one place.”
“Sierra, think of all the amazing things you can do over there. New friends and an entire winter training regimen.”

“What about my old friends? The ones that I was able to make here? The few who like me for me, and not because of you too. Or hate me because of me and not because of you. God, even my friend group seems to revolve around your decisions.” Sierra was on the verge of tears. “I have a free year. One full year without school before I have to do what I’m told by the army, or navy, or whatever. Maybe I should do something that I want to do for a change.”
“But Sierra, you love exercising and our education. You always have.”
“Ya, dad. I do love it. But on my time. Not yours. I love gymnastics class. Three times a week that I’m able to escape from a regular soldier’s life and do what I love to do.”
“What would you even do on your own for a year?”
“I don’t know. Build houses in Eubatu maybe. They’ve got plenty of homeless that need shelter.”
“I am not sending my daughter to a third world country, Commonwealth or otherwise to build houses on her own.” Her father said seriously.
“I wouldn’t be on my own dad. It’s run through the Eubatu Hospital. You volunteer your time building shelters for the homeless and then living with one of the doctors.”
“So, you’ve actually put research into this?” Margaret asked, eyeing her daughter suspiciously.

Sierra nodded, praying she was better at lying than her parents believed. “Of course. I wouldn’t just mention something like this out of the blue. I even talked with John Henry about it. His older brother did the exact same program during his time off before joining the military. Said he came back knowing exactly what he wanted to do.”

Daniel and Margaret looked at each other for a long time, a sort of mental conversation or debate flowing through them, of which Sierra was purposefully left out. Then, their gaze fell on her, making her squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

“Is this something you really want to do?” Her mother asked softly.
Sierr was not quite sure if it actually was, but if it meant escaping her parents for a few months, all the more reason to go. “It is. I’ll still do my daily exercises,” She added, “all the regular readings. Well, some of the regular readings, but all the exercises for sure.”

Her father let out a breath. “I know you wanted to stay here another year. But as you will come to realize, duty comes first. You can go if you wish to. Just make sure to call as often as possible to let us know how you’re doing.”
“And,” Margaret continued. “I’d like to speak with John Henry about this…”

[Rhodevus]

Imprisoned, Part 2

Torture. Endless, insurmountable torture. And pain. It was only that which Diana could feel. Her back and legs and shoulders and neck. All bruised in beautiful shades of orange, purple and yellow. Her hair was cut short, to the base of her shoulders. What used to flow down to her lower back; a personal symbol of her freedom was gone. She had cut it off herself. It was either remove it, or continue to allow her assailants a useful tool with which to grab at her. Luckily, the corner of a plate was enough to cut it quickly, even if it ended up being extremely lopsided. She no longer had any concern for her physical appearance. She felt disgusting all over. Her flesh crawled and tingled, both in areas bruised outside and inside. She had forgone her torn rags, casting them aside after the fifth night. Choosing to use them to clean the blood from her face and body than as a useless form of protection from the cold.

Every day, the questions were repeated. Every day, Diana tried to remember. Tried to answer them honestly. Anything to keep them from hitting her one more time. Anything to keep their fingers from touching her skin. Questions about her job. Questions about her family. Questions about Richard and anyone else that she may have known. They all seemed irrelevant. All simplistic. And yet, they would not tell her anything about her father. Nor her brother. Her mother was useless to anyone, stuck in a mental hospital unable to remember her own name let alone any important information. Not that what Diana was sharing, she would consider important information. She talked and talked and talked. Revealing as much as she possibly could about the diplomatic treaties signed during her time as Head Ambassador. She talked until her voice grew coarse and deep.

She had been trained to withstand some torture. Just as everyone else in Rhodevus had. She was completely fine being left alone for days on end. She was okay revealing certain bits of information. But it was the other things that troubled her. Things they would never teach someone to overcome. She placed a hand on her bottom lip. It had been weeks, maybe longer since the cut had scarred over to form a noticeable bump.

She heard the familiar clicking of her cell door being unlocked. She no longer backed away in fright. She sat still, huddled in the center of the room, wrapping her arms around her legs for warmth as well as any sense of privacy she had left. The door swung open. Diana did not bother looking up.

“Good heavens. Get her a blanket, a towel, something. You can’t leave her without clothes.” A near recognizable voice said, motioning for two men to rush into the room. A heavy blanket was thrown over Diana, which she quickly wrapped around herself. She looked up. His eyes were immediately recognizable. Those familiar deep, dark blue eyes which he shared with their father. He had the same chin and nose, but his eyebrows and lips matched her own, and their mother’s. “Jamie.” Diana said quietly, rising slowly to her feet, keeping the blanket fastened tightly around herself.
“Hey Dee. How are you feeling?” Diana fell onto James, letting him hug her tightly over the blanket.
“Are you here to rescue me?” Diana pleaded. “I can’t take this torment any longer. I answered everything they wanted. I’m so sorry.”
“Hush now. It’s alright.” James said softly, patting her damp, oil-slick hair. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”
“How did you find me? It’s been weeks.” Diana was tearing up, unsure if it was from relief or the continuous pain which she felt throughout her body.
“It’s been a lot longer than I’d hoped for. A lot has changed in the outside world. Just as you no doubt have changed during your time in here.”
“Where am I? I don’t remember anything after our phone call.” Diana pressed her head against his shoulder.
“You are in a maximum security prison cell. More than that has little significance. Rhodevus is at war Dee. We need your help to win it.”
“War? With who? Is that who captured me?”
“Civil War mainly. We are also being invaded by outside forces. Many of whom we once thought were our allies.”
“Oh no. Is father alright? And mother? They kept on asking me questions about Uncle Richard. Is he helping you?”

James shook his head. He looked at once both forlorn and in command. He had always had an air of leadership about him. It is what made him such an excellent soldier. It was only King Benner’s wishes to have the next ruler not a military man that made Diana the heir apparent over James. Neither would truly find out who the official heir was until he had passed.

“Uncle Richard is who we are combatting in our civil war. He tried to kill dad and take the throne himself.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He was like a brother to father. An uncle to us.”

“Ambition brings greed, as the saying goes. You know, it does sound better in Rhodevan. Tu ele’e no ca Reiya.” The saying roughly translates to: The overly ambitious without proper planning and intelligence leads to the greed that can plague mankind. James shrugged. “I have stepped in to father’s shoes to lead Rhodevus out of this civil war and invasion. But, I cannot do it alone. I… we need your help.”
Diana looked up at him. “What is it? What do you need?”
“You are one of the few remaining people with important connections to the international diplomatic stream. You know how to and where to hit our enemies hard so that they will leave the war or slow their march across our lands. You are one of the only people that knows the location of the Winter-Storm files.”

Winter-Storm was one of Rhodevus’s few contingency plans for invasion. While not as globally dangerous as other plans, it incorporated the usage of nuclear technologies on specific locations, not meant to cripple the economies of other nations, but only the militaries. It was the job of the Head Ambassador to help hide the USB which held the names of the target locations. This way, it would be the person who had the most knowledge of these foreign countries who would have an active hand in leading to their destruction. Only four people knew of the USB’s location, the Head Ambassador, monarch, High General and Minister of International affairs. Of those who knew its location, the Head Ambassador was the lowest ranked.

“I… I don’t know what’s happening outside. I don’t know how bad the war is going. What about father? Have you asked him? What about General Thomson? Minister Kray?”
“Thomson is dead. As is Minister Kray.” James held no sign of pity or sadness. His eyes were hard and calm. “And father is… otherwise incapacitated. I need you to tell me. The lives of everyone we know is at stake. Give me the name of the location.”
“Please Jamie. We can talk about this later. Just get me out of here-”
“No. I need this information now. If we are to win this war and defeat Richard.”
“What about the Commonwealth?”
“They are of no use to us. Only this will help us. Give me the location.”
“I.. I can’t. It’s too dangerous. And you still need the command Tetrad to launch nuclear weapons anyways.”
“That is of no worry to me. I have been given full command.”
“Only the king can take full command.”
“As I said, father is incapacitated right now. He granted me authority to take control of the situation. Now please, for the love of me and this country, tell me.”
“Why do we need to do this now? Can’t you take me out of this cell…” Diana stopped, peering behind James to see movement. Someone with their back facing the opened cell. A large man. All she could clearly see was his arms folded and his massive back. But, Diana could never mistake him for anyone else.

“You’re with them.” Diana whispered in terror. “You’re with those who kidnapped me.”
“What?” James questioned, feigning concern. “How could you think that? We’re family.”
“I know him. I could never forget him.”
James turned to look at the guard behind him and scowled. “He was an undercover agent. He helped me rescue you.”
“Do you know what he did to me? How he used me? Abused me?”
“Dee, you’re getting off topic. The future of Rhodevus is at stake here.” James tried to return to the conversation at hand.
“No. I can’t tell you anything in front of that man. In front of you.” Diana’s voice quivered.
“Ugh.” James sighed disappointedly, “I had hoped you were ready to talk.” He turned away from Diana. “Give her the knuckles.” James stood up and walked out of the cell, turning to face his sister, his expression hard and cold. And then her guard walked in, brandishing a sharp axe-like knife.

Diana clutched her left hand tightly. “No. Jamie. Jamie! Please, no!” The massive man continued creeping towards her, as she backed away into the wall, casting the blanket off. Her voice broke and she could not speak. And she screamed an ear-piercing scream. And screamed and screamed.

[Rhodevus]

Imprisoned, Part 3

They used fire and heated metal to close the wounds which engulfed her knuckles. They had removed the top knuckle of her left pinky-finger and middle-finger. A knuckles Ruler, it was called. Getting the Knuckles. Used to show the insanity of the person who held it; how they were unfit to rule. Unfit to lead in any aspect of their life. Yet, historically it was often those who had carried out the punishment which showed their true insanity. Most did not study this part of the history, choosing to remember the stereotype. The colloquial usage of it in times long passed. But a student of history knew. Diana knew.

It was the worst that could be done to her. It was the last possible thing they could do to tarnish her. They had attacked her body and had attacked her emotions, her trust. And now they attacked her future. And yet, she did not break. James. Jamie. Her brother. The man she had once been close with. Had once wrestled with and had read with, and helped to teach to walk and say her name and to escape his crib. The person their mother used to say she could rely on for any and every problem. ‘Your sibling is the closest person to you. They know you. Don’t forget that. You can share anything with each other,’ her mother had once said.

But, Diana did not feel anger for her brother. No fear or loathing of him. Even as he turned to watch her lose her status as a sane person. She felt betrayal, but that was quickly overcome by sadness. By pity. She pitied her brother. Who had seemed to fall so far from the noble and loyal man who had sped through the ranks and achievements of a soldier. Who seemed to embody the ideals of Rhodevus. Who was prepared to do away with the armies of the world, when she was unsure if Rhodevus was actually at war. She had been beaten, tortured and intruded upon in every way imaginable. And now she was done.

Done revealing anything. She had answered all the questions they through at her. Everything she could manage. That time had passed. No more would any information pass through her lips. No more would she help her captors; her brother in whatever he was doing. She did not dare think of where her father was, the King Benner was, throughout this ordeal. She feared the worst.

If James was the face of a free Rhodevus, then Diana knew Rhodevus no longer deserved the right to be free and independent. Let the foreigners invade. Let the nation be torn apart by civil war. Let Richard rampage through the country, if indeed this held any truth, which she doubted profusely. They had hoped she cracked. She nearly had. Her heart broke at watching her brother leave her. But her heart was no longer of importance. Her mind hardened its resolve. Regained its composure and for once, she was thinking clearly. Her body was weakened from weeks of hunger, but they had fed her enough to remain strong enough to speak. They had at least followed the most basic laws of the Imperial Formations Treaty, for which Rhodevus has been beholden to for nearly 300 years.

Her cell door opened once again. It was the her main interrogator. She could never understand what she had found attractive about him that first day they had met. Maybe it was because he was the first clean thing she saw in a long time. Maybe it was his once soft and caring voice, something which had long since disappeared. He stood in front of her, towering over her as she sat there, looking up at him. Her eyes piercing his own.

“What is the importance of the Diplomatic Research Station in Acadia.” His voice carried the authority of someone who was facing a broken opponent. Diana no longer cared for it. After moments of silence, he repeated the question. She looked away from him, towards the floor. And then did something he did not expect. Placing her hands on the cement floor in front of her, she rose slowly to her feet, shaking slightly under her own weight. She was much shorter than him, but the gap in height had closed. She stared into his eyes, giving nothing away. No emotion. And then she spoke.

“The Acadian Diplomatic Research Station is the central location where all information regarding our allies is stored. All known logistics which we share with each other. All known programs which we work together on. And more confidential things as well.”
“Which are?”
“Of no concern of yours.”
“Everything you know is of my concern.”
“Not anymore.” And with that final statement, she kicked. Hard.

He crumpled to the ground. No breath escaped his lips as his entire body tensed up. A guard rushed into the room to see what was going on. He threw himself as Diana, both of them falling onto the mattress, her only bed and luxury. He struggled to grasp onto her arms and immobilize her. In a moment of panic and frenzy, she leaned towards him and bit his neck. He howled in pain. She spit out blood. His blood. He jumped off of her, clutching his neck with one hand and grasping to the immobilized interrogator with the other, dragging him slowly out of the cell.
“You demon witch!” He gasped. “You animal. You wolf”

“And don’t you forget it!” She hurled back at him, panting in exhaustion. Her cell door slammed shut and was locked. She was alone. At least for now. She smiled slightly. Wolf had been her nickname for years. Given to her by her father due to how well she played with any dog as a child. He said that she might have been one of them. She was also called the little Lion. Reminiscent of her younger brother James, who was known as the Lion in his military circles. Diana herself was never thought of as that ferocious. That had changed. No captor of hers would think of her as anything but an animal. A Little Lion. A wolf. The only Wolff of importance.

[Rhodevus]

Imprisoned, Part 4

“Don’t go in there. She’s broken down completely. Bit a guy’s neck off, last I heard.”
“You do know she speaks Ghong Dialect. Ugh, why do I have to go through this with every single soldiers I bring to guard her?” The unmistakable scowl of James drifted through the bars where Diana was resting peacefully. She was hungry. They had cut her down to two meals a day following her attack. But, they had been leaving her alone. No beatings, no interrogations. No touching of any kind. Diana sprawled out on her mattress, the one luxury she possessed. The cold raised goosebumps on her exposed flesh, but it no longer felt intrusive. She had grown accustomed to the feeling after so many weeks stuck in the grey, cemented cell.

She did not try to escape. Did not try to think of a way out. Freedom would come when freedom came. If it ever did. But judging from the last batch of soldiers sent to guard her, it would be coming sooner rather than later. She mindlessly touched the stubs that had once been her top knuckles and nails of her pinky and middle fingers, on her left hand. Let them think she had gone wild. One look at her hand was all they needed to judge her. A Knuckle-less Ruler. It was funny how something from times long past had still entered modern culture. She nearly laughed aloud at the thought. But, no. It was not yet time to reveal that she was awake. Her brother might be smart enough to know when she was faking, but these soldiers were not.

Diana nearly felt bad for them, in a way. They were, after all, only trying to do their duty as a soldier. It did not help that James continued to use only men as her guards. She had long since abandoned any notion of privacy. They had refused to grant her even the most basic of necessities; those which the most horrid of criminals received, in order to try and make her snap. In order to make her reveal everything. And, in a way she did. Diana laughed at this.

Maybe she did crack, a little bit.

“She’s awake.” The first solder said nervously.
“She’s been awake the entire time.” James replied, thoroughly annoyed. “She still refuses to answer any more questions from the interrogator. And they had told me that he was the best…” He paused. “She gets three days. And then, if she doesn’t say anything of value, shoot her. You hear that Diana?” He said loudly, turning to Diana’s cell.

“Better shoot me now, Jamie.” Diana replied, unfazed. “You won’t get anything useful out of me. Unless of course you want to know how my day is doing.”
“Shut. Up.” James grinded his teeth.
“You’re the boss, little brother.” Diana retorted.
“You two, stay outside of this cell. When the sergeant comes, let him in. Only him.” He returned to speaking I the Ghong dialect.
Both grunted their confirmation. James’s footsteps slowly died down as he left the cell block.

Diana was bored. It was exhilarating to feel such a casual and normal emotion. It was amazing to feel anything normal at all. The swelling from her lower bruises were starting to shrink. After they had realized that they could no longer hurt her in that way, it seemed pointless to continue. James had thankfully declined the massive man’s request to continue that specific punishment. They had ended the beatings after she refused to give in any more information. Not that many questions were asked of her after her last engagement with her interrogator. Or the time after that. And the time after that.

It had been wonderful to let off her anger, her frustration, her pain, in a useful manner. It helped her regain her sense of pride and power. It had been a mistake on the part of her captors to give in to her demands. She knew that she was needed alive. For what ends, she did not know. Diana knew not to try and press her luck, but after being brutalized like she had, it meant little to be brutalized more.

“How old are you?” She asked in a sweet voice. When she heard no reply she whined softly. “Come on. Just this one little question?”
“24.”
“No talking to the prisoner.” The other guard ordered.
“Oh? That makes you nearly my age. Two years my younger. A year older than my baby brother, Jamie. That also puts you in the correct age bracket to have most likely voted Liberal in the last election. Is that correct? No need to answer, one of you most likely voted Liberal. That also puts you into the career employment category of the military. A Liberal voting career. Not too many of those running around Rhodevus. No wonder James stuck you down here with me. Since you are both a Liberal and a career, that gives you a 74% likelihood of being single. Trust me. I wrote a paper on this subject for my degree. It also gives you a 53% likelihood of being a late bloomer in the relationship department. Do not worry on that front. I still lack a boyfriend as well. It has been hard these last months being locked in here, but I guess I did get that diet I had so desperately wanted.”
“Shut up with your ramblings, woman.” The other guard ordered.
“Or what? You’re going to come in here and make me? Me, a defenseless, clothe-less woman who is at least two heads shorter than you? Or what would your boss have to say about that? I may be his prisoner, but I am still his sister.”
“You are infuriating. I don’t know how Benner ever thought to make you the queen.”
“That’s king Benner to you. Or have you forgotten your monarch? Since you both most definitely have your heads shoved way up my brother’s-”
“Not anymore he’s not!” The first soldier yelled, hitting the cell bars with the butt of his rifle.

Diana grew quiet. “What happened to my father.”
“I told you to shut it.” The other guard said to the 24 year old.
“What happened to my father! What did you do to him!” Diana was nearly screaming her command.
Diana stood up and marched over to the cell door, hitting it hard with her fist. “You will tell me right this instant! Or I swear I will-”
“Do what? Bite my neck off?” The guard guffawed. “I have a better chance of getting my hands all over you than you do of even getting a bruise on me.”
“Don’t tempt me. When I do get out of here, one way or another, you will lose whichever hand you try to touch me with. And that, brave soldier, is a promise I intend to keep.” Diana hissed, slamming her fist into the metal door one last time, ringing out an echo of her promise throughout the stone and cement walls of her chamber.

A piercing sound ricocheted through the hallway. Diana looked up, unsure of what made the noise. And then she heard something falling. As if a man was falling down the stairs. And silence. Diana refused to let out even a breath. She backed up to the edge of her mattress bed.

The hallway once again filled with the echo of an unmistakable crack. This time closer. Diana stepped back once more. She saw through her small barred window her two soldiers repositioning their rifles. Two more cracks. And then a hard smack.

“It’s the sergeant.” His voice was nervous, almost fearful.
“What did him in?”
“You go left, I go right. Keep your guard up.”
“Aye.”

Diana watched as both guards left their posts. She was unsure whether to be grateful or scared. They were her only defense against what was out there. It could be rescuers. It could be much, much worse. She heard metal hit flesh and bone. A sudden cry of pain, and then silence.

“Whoa, wait man. I surrender.” He threw his rifle to the floor. “I got the keys, see? Right here.” There was the jingling of the prison keys. “Humph!” He buckled and fell to the floor.

She heard the jingling of keys once again. Her cell door clicked and began to slide open. Standing in front of her were three soldiers. Diana flew to the back of her cell, eyes wide with fright.

“Your highness!” The leading soldier rushed forward. Seeing her fear, he slowed down. “It’s alright. We’re the good guys.” He showed her his sleeve, with the familiar golden eagle echelon.
“So were they.” Diana nodded towards the men outside the cell, one of them still groaning over some unknown pain. The other was silent and still.
“Not this time, your highness, my qu-… I’m Yestin. Yestin McTavish. We’ve been looking for you for weeks. We serve with Captain Weivar”
“Richard?”
The soldier nodded, removing his jacket. He held it out to her. “This is long enough to cover up. Please take it.”

Diana reached slowly for the jacket. When she felt its soft material on her fingers, she snatched it towards her quickly, pressing it hard against herself. It had been such a long time since she had anything clean. Or, cleaner than her. The jacket had dried mud on its sleeves, but it still smelled fresh. She pulled it on and buttoned it up, using it as a dress.

“Captain Richard has been looking for you since the start of the rebellion. Since you first disappeared. But then when the tide began to turn, he was too busy on the front to look for you himself, so he handpicked us to continue the search. I am sorry I had thought you were dead all this time. I had hoped you were dead. Better than whatever they were doing to you in here.”
“You don’t want to know.” Diana’s face darkened. She would not reveal anything more.
“I guess I don’t.” The shirtless soldier shrugged. He turned to the two soldiers behind him. “Francis, go back up and ensure our location is still secure. Radio in for reinforcements or immediate air removal. Lexi, stay with the princess. Don’t let her leave your sight for even a moment. I’m going to check the rest of the prison for any other captives.”

Francis left in one direction and Yestin in another. Lexi stayed in place, looking at Diana seriously. “I have an extra change of clothes back in basecamp, up there.” She pointed up. “I think my clothes might fit you a bit better than the Lieutenant’s. Sorry that we don’t have a shower, or even a damp rag to clean you up with.”
Diana shrugged. “I’ve been dirty for this long, I can stay dirty for a bit longer.”
Lexi nodded. “Let’s get you out of this cell, you’ve spent enough time looking at these four walls.”
Lexi held an arm around Diana, helping her slowly walk out of the cell. It was freedom. Diana turned to look at the groaning soldier, clutching his stomach. He looked up at her helplessly.

“Give me you pistol.” Diana ordered. Lexi obliged.
“No, wait. Don’t shoot me. I surrendered.” The man held out a hand to Diana, using the other one for balance on the ground.

Removing the safety, Diana pulled the trigger, the loud gunshot pierced through his hand as he collapsed to the floor once again. “I promised you would lose your hand.”
“But I didn’t touch you!” He screamed in agony.
“You thought about it.” She turned to Lexi. “Let’s go.”

And they did, leaving him on the ground. She did not know if he or anyone else in this prison that had been tasked with guarding her, would find a way out of this prison, or away from wherever they were. Nor did she care. They would get the justice they deserved, one way or another. But for once she was free. Diana was free.

[Rhodevus]

Fire

The night air was cool and filled with the brilliant sounds of crickets. The sky was cloudless, the first night with no rain in nearly a week. The full light from the moon and hundreds of stars flickered in through the trees which stood overhead. The fire itself sent up white smoke which smelled of cooked fish. Sierra sat on the dirt ground with her back resting against a fallen log. With a sharp knife, she was whittling a small piece of wood which she cut from the tree.

Beside her was a sleeping Jannet, huddled up under to layers of blankets and whatever extra coats and clothes they could find. Still, she shook and shuddered as the infection was slowly and painfully working its way out of her body. Sierra would need to change the bandages wrapped around her hand soon enough.

“The fish is done,” Leia said, lifting a skewer from over the fire, which held 3 smoking river salmon. She placed them gently on a large stone before moving the pot of water back onto the fire. “We should have some clean water in about 10 minutes.”
“It’s good to be stuck in the wild with at least one other experienced traveller.” Sierra said, striking the wood with her knife.
“I’m just thankful you found us all. And still had your helmet.” Leia gestured to the helmet, currently being used as a pot to boil water. “Want a fish?”

Sierra shook her head. “I’ll wait until the other get back with more firewood.” She blew softly to remove wood-dust from her carving. “And you were doing fine on your own. Give it another month or two and you’d have been out.”
Leia chuckled. Jannet shivered, which turned both girls’ attention to her. She calmed, falling into a deeper sleep. “She doesn’t look good.”
“Ya, she’s paling. Nothing we can do save keeping it clean and keeping her sweating. We need to sweat out the infection. Nothing more until we get back to society with real medicine.” Sierra placed the back of her hand on Jannet’s forehead. Hot and dry.

The leaves rustled. Sierra spun around just as four figures appeared from the thick of the forest. “Hey, it’s just us.” Seema said, carrying a handful of sticks. “We’ve got enough firewood to last us the night and on.”
“Ya, and Seema even found a berry bush a few minutes back. Can you check on it tomorrow?” Lexa’s high pitched voice of excitement pierced the quiet night. She dropped her dozen sticks onto the growing pile before hopping down beside Leia. “Mummy, can I have some food now?” Leia laughed at her daughter. “Sure thing. We’ll share one. If you all don’t mind?” She looked at the others. “All yours.” Seema held her hands out to them.

“We’ll go grab some berries tomorrow.” Sierra said, looking at the group of women in front of her. “And then it’s a full day of keeping busy ahead of us.”
“And why don’t we just continue walking? Pick a direction and stick to it. We’re bound to find a city sooner or later. Or at the very least, bump into the ocean.” Mirrid complained, rubbing her sore feet.
“Ya, and spend weeks walking through forest? I don’t think so.” Topaz rolled her eyes. “Besides, who’s going to carry Jannet? I as sure as hell won’t.”
“It’s safer here. We have a river, good cover from the elements, but not enough to block out any sign of helicopters overhead. And just as Topaz said, Rhodevus is pretty big. We’re more likely to trip and break something while walking than we are of reaching the edge of this forest. Yztal is a pretty big province. Bigger than many countries. Hell, the Yztal forest is bigger than many countries.”

Sierra blew softly on the wooden carving, removing the final wood flecks from the holes she made on its base. She tucked her knife back into her belt and placed both hands on the small instrument she crafted.
“A Wikker?” asked Leia, watching Sierra’s hands intently.

The Wikker was small, possessing only two top holes and a bottom one instead of the customary three top holes. Always crafted out of wood, sound was made when you blew overtop the mouth piece, covering the holes to create various high pitched notes. It was a challenging instrument to obtain the full variety of sounds that most other instruments could play.

Sierra shrugged. Jannet began to shudder violently, mumbling in her sleep of unseen terrors. Carefully, Sierra placed the Wikker close to her lips and blew gently. A soft, angelic sound escaped from the instrument. As soldier played, the melody erupted into that of a fairy tale. The Swan on High, as it was known in English.

Bonsei’a Nurei’ma
Cailat’eia Aifanra
So to lei mah
Gadira. Aintano beilla shah
Daino seia

“When Swan on high
And down below
The river bends
They watch it go
And flow away
From painless nights.
The young grow old.”

The harmonic melody slowly calmed down the girl. Sierra moved the Wikker from her lips, placing it gently in her lap. The other women were staring at her, almost trancelike. Leia was holding her daughter tightly, rocking back and forth to the echo of the music.
“What’s it about mummy?” Leia asked innocently.
Leia smiled. “It’s about a swan living on a river its entire life.”
The other women chuckled. The Swan on High was a classical and famous Rhodevan Native fairy tale. Like most fairy tales from the native people of the country, it was always set to music, although the music itself had a habit of changing every so often. Sierra had played it slowly and melodically, as she had been taught by her mother and teachers, but the more common accompaniment was faster and darker. The words itself had remained the same for hundreds of years, yet their exact translation have been lost. It was meant to feel different and meaningful to each person who heard it and played or sang it for themselves. Sierra had always hoped it meant the changes of life.

“Where did you learn to play the Wikker?” Asked Seema coyly.
Sierra shrugged. “It’s just one of the few things I learnt in my childhood.”
“You’re very good.” Leia commented, repositioning a yawning Lexa on her lap. “Why did I never now you played?”
“Look at me.” Sierra gestured to herself. “I’m… Sierra Abrams. TG, The Great. A Commander. THE Commander. Everyone assumes that I’m tough and the military is all I know. I guess it is.”
“Well, you are famous for a reason. Not all of that military propaganda is fake. I bet some of that stuff about you has to be real.”
“Ya, the saviour of the James’ Wars. What did I do? Fly around a bit and shoot some planes and lose many of my best friends along the way. I saved some people and lead some men, but anybody in my position would do that. I don’t deserve the title of The Commander for that.”
“No one else thought we were still alive.” Seema pointed out. “Nobody else thought to try and rescue us.”
“Not many can trick an entire division of the Brotherhood into freeing us. You’re amazing. Not because you’ve shot down some planes and lead some soldiers, but because you truly believe in those you fight with and what you are fighting for. Not many know this, but the title of The Commander was never granted to the man or woman who was the best leader of soldiers, as many today believe. But to those leaders who were strong against their faults. Humble and loyal and kind and smart and above all else hopeful.”

Sierra wiped a tear from her eye, not allowing anyone to see it fall. “Really?”
Leia nodded. “Hey, I am a teacher of history. Give me some credit.”
Sierra let out a soft laugh. “Did you know I never wanted to join the army? I wanted to choose diplomacy. Go into law or public speaking or something. Maybe join the national military marching band.”
They all laughed.
“Ya, I can’t see myself in a band either.”
The fire flickered lightheartedly between them, drawing their gaze to the shimmering orange flame as it ascended into the brilliant deep purple sky.
“We will be found.” Sierra said forcefully. “And when we do, I’m going to leave the military. Do what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“And what is that?”
“Anything else.”

[Rhodevus]

Homeless, Part 3

Deep and long sirens filled the echoes between the streets. Ambulances and fire trucks were rushing through to put out a fire. It was almost always a fire. They seemed to spring up in this country like dandelions did back home. Or, one of the homes which Sierra could remember. She had been to so many. Lived in so many places, all of them seemed to blend into one. She technically had friends all around the world. All around her own massive country. Big cities and small ones. But none of them truly counted for much. She had known the longest of them for a year and a half, the shortest for less than three weeks. She only had one or two real people she could consider friends, and even them, she had not talked to since leaving for her new country of residence.
Though, she did feel different about Eubatu. It was the first place she had chosen to run off to on her own. Some semblance of independence after seventeen years of struggle. Sierra walked slowly through the dark streets. There were street lights overhead, but they worked intermittently. Eubatu was an Industrial Technocracy, but it was still small and poor. They were improving, but it was taking time and a lot of support from places like Rhodevus. As much as they hated it.

Sierra tucked her hands into the pockets of her grey hoodie, just as an ambulance flew passed her, it’s sirens wailing a deafening call. She readjusted her clothing bag on her shoulder. She had been in Eubatu for two months now. It had been a month since she left the housing project and the initial reason she had given her parents for wanting to go to Eubatu. Luckily, they did not contact her parents to schedule a flight home. Obviously they assumed she would do it herself. Nobody stays in Eubatu on purpose. The entire country had less people than some cities. Most major ones.

She had since taken to wandering the streets, doing small jobs when she could, using what little money her mother had given her, when should could not.

“Ahem.” Said a voice from behind. She turned slowly, giving herself enough time to look at the man and judge his threat level. Something she had learned early from her father. His stance was wide. Not a regular combat stance for a trained professional, but this did not seem like he would be one, judging from his clothes. He wore a hood, which would obstruct his face if she attacked at an angle. She looked at his hands. Open and in front of him. No weapons. No danger. His face looked haggard and weary.

“Do you have any spare change?” He looked hopeful.
Sierra shook her head. “I’m in the same boat as you.”
The man’s spirit looked crushed. “Oh. Alright, sorry for bothering you.”
He turned to leave.

“Wait.” Sierra finally said. She reached into her pocket and fished out a few coins. “Here.”
She let them drop from her fingertips. Each one would make finding food tomorrow that much harder. “You look like you need it more than me.”

“Thank you. Erm, maybe, stay out of the Westminston suburbs? Not a good place for a pretty lady.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.”

Westminston was a large city for Eubatu. Some 40,000 people living together surrounded by the Westminston suburbs. But, most people from the area considered the southern side as downtown Westminston and the north as the suburbs. Both had relatively the same population. But, downtown held the richer folk. The business owners. The engineers and scientists. The suburbs had the filth. Those who scrounged around for jobs. Ever since the recession of 2003. It was slowly improving, but, like much of the country, it would take time.

Besides being a crummy place to live, this was the place Sierra had been calling home. It was quite easy to break into an abandoned high rise. Not that there were many high rises left to be broken into. Almost all had already been claimed by some squatter or other. All that mattered in the suburbs was that you kept your wits. And if you were female, you travelled in a group.
Sierra did not have that luxury, but she did have something just as good.

“Wallet. Now.” This new man’s voice as much deeper. Much more authoritative. His feet were squared up properly. Sierra stopped mid-step, falling into a defensive position. This man was looking for a fight. She threw back her hood, letting her ponytail fall out.
“A girl all alone.” The man mock-whimpered, leering at her. “Wallet and 20 minutes of your time.”
“You would only use one.” Sierra mocked. Not her smartest move.

The man took a moment to process what Sierra had said. He threw her a scowl, then pulled out a knife from his back pocket. “Last chance. Before I slice you.”

Sierra raised her arms into a fighting stance. Her expression calm and collected. This was what she had trained for all her life. This and the many other fights she had beforehand. Nothing new. In the suburbs it was show strength or pay for weakness. Similar to how Sierra pictured the military, after having lived with her overbearing parents.

He lunged at her with his knife, which she quickly evaded, positioning herself facing his chest. She withheld a punch. It was an open target, but not a weak one. Play strengths, Sierra had been told. She let him swing back, placing his knife-wielding forearm between them. Quickly, she locked onto the fleshy part of his thumb and his wrist. With a quick turn, his hand buckled and the knife fell to the ground. With another, she rolled his over her back and stretched out leg, leading him toppling to the ground.
She stepped over him. “Be careful who you fight.” She allowed herself to punch him once. A fist straight into his awaiting neck, leaving him gasping for air. Sierra lifted up the knife he had dropped and tossed it into a drain. Then, she continued on her way.
It was only a few minutes longer, before she felt her hairs stand on end. Sierra had learned early into her time spent alone in the streets that she should trust her instincts. She paused. Letting her eyes and ears pick up what they could not have before. Someone was following her.

“Mew!” A loud purr. Sierra let out a sigh of relief. It was not going to be another fight. Another interruption. She knelt down as the tabby cat walked up to her. She smiled slightly as she pet its head with the back of her index and middle fingers. It allowed her time to think.

“I can’t keep doing this.” She spoke to herself, as much as to the cat. And she knew it. A month living alone. Without any comforts. All she had was her single clothing bag and a little money. Yes, she had a phone and yes, she knew she could go home. Or to whatever new place her parents were now calling him. No. That would be admitting defeat. If there was one thing an Abrams did not do, was admit defeat when there were still options available. But, what options?

The simplest would be to return to the housing project. But no, they would have thought she had returned home by now. It would be hard to explain what she had been doing since. She could continue to live on the streets. It was only ten more months before she would need to go home and join the army. Or navy. Whatever her parents decided for her. Sierra gawked at the idea. As much as she hated living on the streets, she hated the idea of giving her parents control over her life once more.

They’re control still inched towards the surface, with voicemails about doing exercises and readings; of which she had long since abandoned. What about something else?

She could not see herself getting a job in Eubatu. For one, she would need documentation allowing her to work here. For another, she did not want to think about setting up roots in a place like this.
What about the Commonwealth? A little voice in the back of her mind said.
What about it? She replied.
There is a base in Eubatu.

“An airforce base.” She said out loud. The cat purred once more, then trotted off onto the street and behind a dumpster. She stood up slowly. “No. That is… too much like what mum and dad want. I am NOT joining.”
Sierra ran off down the sidewalk. Turning left into the building she called home. It was perpetually warm in Eubatu, and a clear night. She headed towards the roof.

The view was magnificent. Clear skies gave her a perfect view of the city center. Westminston was always alight this time of year. Four massive lights shone brightly into the sky. It looked like a massive party was being thrown. There was, of course, for new years eve. Thousands of people would be on the streets. Listening to music and waiting until midnight. Sierra allowed herself to take a peek at her phone. She still had some time. She breathed out, sitting down lightly on a towel, using her bag as a pillow against her back and a long sweatshirt as a blanket. She held her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them.

“Do I want to join the air force?” She asked herself. It was different to say the least. She shook her head. No. No going back to her parents. “But was it really going back?” Her mind replied. It was different. The Commonwealth Army was completely separated from the Rhodeve one. Her parents would be in a different department entirely than her. No way to transfer her to a branch or division they preferred. No way to help her. Promotions or otherwise. This would be her, alone. This could be her, alone.
Her phone buzzed, just as fireworks began to light up the sky. As they exploded, cascading down in shades of purple, blue, red and green, Sierra knew she could not fight herself any longer. She knew who she was. Always knew.

The echoing booms continued. Sierra watched. Her eyes not leaving the brightly coloured sky for even a moment.

[Rhodevus]

Family, Part 1

Blood dripped from Zaira’s forehead, down over her lips and running through her smiling teeth, even as her eyes were blinded. Zaira’s wrists were burning as she pulled on her plastic wrist bands, holding her hands behind and locked to the chair she was seated on. She spat out, allowing herself to take a breath amid the gore. “I don’t break.” She whispered through her smile.
A hand struck her across the cheek, followed by a punch to her gut, doubling her over. She let out a laugh as she was hit. “I’m killing you first.” She rubbed her cheek on her leather-clad shoulder.

“What was that? Hmm?” Her interrogator asked, leaning forward so his ear was near her mouth.
Zaira whispered every word. “I. Am going. To. Kill you. First.” She pulled on her wrist restraints, digging her wrist bones deep into the plastic. She tensed herself as she felt the metal brass knuckles dig deep into her hip followed by a knife slide along the bridge of her nose. “How are you going to do that? Hmm?”

Zaira held out her hands to him. “Because I already escaped.”

Zaira ducked under the man’s knife-wielding fist, striking at his groin, then his neck as he bent down. Swinging over his back and over her chair, she wrapped her legs around his neck from behind and squeezed. A clap against both his ears would leave them ringing and disoriented. Holding his chin and forehead, minimal quick pressure snapped his neck. She rolled off of him as he hit the ground hard.

She wiped the blood from her wild eyes. Retrieving the man’s knife, she slipped it into her boot. The key’s to her room hung on a chain around his neck. Fifteen seconds later, she was free from her interrogation room and in the cross-hairs and seven machine guns and rifles.

Zaira looked at each of them with a smile. She snapped down, launching the knife at the neck of the closest soldier. Dashing forward, she retrieved his gun as he collapsed, firing three shots into the next man. She knocked the butt of her gun into the barrel of another, shooting her next assailant in the foot and then up the thigh. She lid along the ground, kicking the next man in the knee as he fired wildly in the room. His body became her shield as the next soldier fired at her, hitting his partner in the bullet-proof jacket multiple times. He stopped firing. Zaira started. A single bullet into her shield’s unprotected neck and the rest of her magazine into the last man.

She looked around at the blood staining the walls and bullet holes throughout. It was quiet, leaving just the echo reminding her of the fight. She dropped the gun and picked up two pistols, pocketing them. As a second thought, she withdrew the knife and placed it back in her boot.

She walked through the halls and up the stairs. Entering onto the first floor, she looked out at the dozens of men and women in suits and ties, sitting behind their desks all looking at her covered in gore. Zaira cleared her throat and continued onward, feeling their eyes pierce her. Reaching the elevator, she hit the button for the top floor, leaving behind a spot of blood, which she wiped with her sleeve. It was never good to leave a clear finger print. The blood would be a mixture of her own and the others, so she was not worried about anyone identifying it as hers.

She yawned carelessly inside the elevator as it moved up, dinging every time a floor was reached. Finally it stopped. 21st Floor. The doors opened to an empty hallway. Clean and surreal, with doors spaced an equidistance away from each other, leaving enough room for either a small sculpture placed on a marble desk, or a painting hanging on the wall, lit with small lights from underneath. Slowly, Zaira stepped forward, hands itching for the guns on her waist. It was quiet. An eerie sort of silence which sent shivers down the toughest of people’s spines. There was nothing to hide behind if any doors were to open. There would only be her training.

At the end of the hallway was a single door. While the others were dark mahogany with bronzed handles, this one was metallic with a large steel door knocker right in the center. There were no handled to pull or push the door open. This was only to be opened from the inside. Without any other options, she knocked.

Silence.

She turned away from the door to face the hallway and elevator she arrived from, seeing the trail of her own footsteps grow fainter as the blood soaked into the carpeting. The door began to click behind her, she spun around, placing her left hand on a gun. It quietly opened on well-greased hinges to a dark room.

Zaira stepped forward, both hands touching her two pistols lightly.
She heard a click and spun, pulling out both guns towards the threat. An elderly man was sitting in a leather chair, his hand returning to his lap after pulling on a cord to his lamp, brightening up one corner of the room.
“And you must be my assassin.” Said the man in a much too calm voice. Zaira peered behind her. Seeing nothing, she lowered her guns. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did to my men downstairs. I mut truly commend you for that. You are only the second to break free from my torturers.”

“What happened to the first?”
“He was on my payroll for a time. He was one of the poor unfortunates who you killed.”
“Ah, sorry about that. A job is a job afterall.”
“I do like how you put that. A job is a job. And may I ask what your job is? I know it is to assassinate me, but whom do you work for?”

Zaira pocketed her guns. “The Black Pirate Corporation. Special Division.”
“Yes, you did seem quite young. Talented too. But, while you no doubt love your place of employ, I can offer you triple what you are being paid at the BPC. It’s really nothing for me. We have better pay, better facilities and of course more connections.”
“I can’t.”

“Are you one of those with a moral code? Can’t change companies until you finish your last objective? Trust me, there is always something that makes it worth your while to switch to my side.”

Zaira reached down, scratching her leg. “I really can’t. Mum would be furious.”
“Your mum works for the corporation?”
“You could say that. You could also say that she owns it.”
The man’s eyes widened in horror at the sudden realization of whom he was facing. “Zaira.”
Zaira shrugged. “Guilty.” With that, she threw the knife at the man’s chest. His eyes grew wider for a moment and then he went limp.

Zaira walked over to the man and rummaged through his jacket until she found a cellphone. She flipped it open, dialing a number.
“Ya, it’s me. Mr. Steven Winthorpe is finished just as required. Mind sending a car around? With a change of clothes. I am a bit bloodied up.” Pocketing the phone, she left the dark room, returning the way she came, not bothering to look back.

[Rhodevus]

Hunt, Part 1

Amaia tiptoed over her sleeping betrothed, still snoring softly into their shared furs. Holding onto the triangular wooden doorframe, she left the confines of the tent. It was bright outside. The moon had descended passed the horizon, but countless stars twinkled and the great aurora, the same one in which the spirits sanctified her betrothal still curled through the sky, changing from deep greens to effervescent purples and pinks. It was a windless night, yet the tops of the oaks and cedars still swayed in some mysterious breeze. Amaia reached back into her tent for a pair of soft leather leggings and her open tunic, putting on her clothing while standing in the hard dirt ground just outside her abode.

As a final thought, she retrieved a preciously carved dagger and her bow which were hanging on the tent’s frame. Amaia left the dagger belt loose along her hips, so that the sheath hung down on her side and slung the bow across her back. One final stop in the war hut to retrieve a bushel of arrows, all tucked neatly into a carved bone quiver, and she ventured East into the night.

She heard a low huff and hoof tapping lightly on the ground. “Not tonight, Windbreaker.” She patted the dark brown snout of her steed, the massive antlered animal which gave her tribe its name; Tanto. Holding tightly onto an antler, she shook the beast’s head, bringing a tender whiny from it. Smiling slightly, she continued forward, letting her feet glide against the earth, destroying any tracks she would have otherwise made.

It was slow-going excursion to reach the nearest stream, but standing up to her ankles to the twinkling waters was well worth the effort. The water was warm to the touch and filled with fish and crustaceans. It brought her back to a time in her recent past. As a child who would try to catch fish with her bare hands or get snipped at by the few freshwater crabs who used the stream to move from lake to lake.

But this was not her final destination. Amaia looked up at the stars, judging she still had an hour or two before daybreak. She walked through the shallow stream, picking up speed now that the flowing water would wash away any of her tracks.

She listened for the sounds of owls, but instead heard something for better. The long cry of a golden eagle. “Blessed spirits,” she murmured, quickly hopping out of the river, racing towards the sound of the eagle. Tracks were no longer a concern. All that mattered was that the spirits had blessed her with a golden eagle. She nearly shouted with glee as the bird cried out once more. She veered off her track and into the forest, letting the low-lying branches and rocks scrape at her ankles and calves. Pebbles dug into the souls of her feet as she ran, but it did not slow her progress.

And then she saw it.

Perched up high in a tree, she saw a light brown bird ruffle its feathers. She knelt down, walking on all fours as she neared the tree. She withdrew her bow and a single arrow. “Unspoken One, thank you for leading me to bounty. May you let my arrow fly true.” She notched her arrow and pulled back on the drawstring, holding it close to her face. Pointing almost exactly above her, she waited for movement.

And then she let her arrow loose.

It struck perfectly, the great bird fell from its roost and hard onto the forest floor. Now, Amaia let out a huge shout of victory. Placing the bow back over her shoulder, she walked up to the bird. It was a large one. A male with a wingspan just as large as her own. She pulled out the arrow from its underbelly, breaking it in two and burying both parts of it exactly where the bird had fallen. This was a glorious night. The sighting of a golden eagle, the symbol of their oldest of god-spirits, was considered a truly cherished occasion. But to actually have the chance to take one home as a feast was something else entirely. It was prophecy itself.

Returning the way she came, she did her best to remove any of her own tracks. Back through the warm stream and towards her village, the sun just began to show its crest over the horizon. A full night without sleep, and yet Amaia felt more awake than ever. The village was just starting to wake up. Men and women were starting to leave their tents, stretching and yawning. The children would be allowed to sleep in longer, before they would be awoken for their morning tasks. She crouched low behind a rock, peering out towards everyone. Then she saw him; her betrothed.

Stretching lazily in the morning sun after a pleasant, fitful sleep, as naked as she had been. She looked onwards, at his short black hair and strong cheekbones. His chest, solid and strong from hunting and catching baby Tanto to add to their herd. Her heart fluttered. Mokan changed into his own soft leather leggings and retrieved his own bow and dagger. Waving off to the other early-risers, he set off towards Amaia’s location. She quickly ducked down, hiding carefully behind the rock so he would not see her. He could not see her before the night at their feast.

As soon as he was out of sight, she skipped into the village, giggling and squealing in delight.

“Amaia!” A portly elder woman hobbled towards her, using her wooden staff as a walking stick. “You have returned. And not a moment too soon. Did Mokan see you?”

Amaia shook her head. “Nearly. He set off on the Hunt in the exact same direction that I did. And where I was hiding for him to leave.”

The elder smiled, “I knew you two would be a perfect match.” Amaia blushed. “Now, come. Come. Into my tent so you can show me what you found. Do you know how you want to cook it?” Amaia smiled. “Then I will call for the other women to join us.”

It took only a few minutes before the elder’s hut, the largest of the tents in the village was filled with women, all sitting on sown mats, some feeding precious newborns, others talking excitedly amongst themselves. Amaia sat to the right of the elder, while the elder’s own wife sat next to her. The two held hands, both their attentions turned to other things. Twin-Spirits had settled in both of them and they had both taken to shamanism and spirituality. It was their own perfect match.

“Hush now.” The elder finally spoke. “Amaia has returned from the Hunt and is ready to share with you all what it is she caught.”

Without another word, Amaia took out the golden eagle from behind her back, showing it to all the others. Many gasped, others could only stare on in silence. The elder was wide eyed for a moment, before returning to her calm gaze.

“Amaia. You have brought us a bird of Taharei. The Unspoken One has blessed you indeed.” The elder moved from sitting on her knees onto her bottom, crossing her legs in front of her. “Ke’etunbits Taharei is the most mystical of spirits. Because He is the most mysterious of them all. Unable to speak; through wind or wave or sky, like all the others. He communicated only through the actions of others. Using His influence to set about special circumstances like this one right here. Spotting a golden eagle is a sure sign that He is watching you. The only time one of us can ever hunt one of His creatures is during the Hunt. They are rare. They are often silent, just like Him. But to hear one cry is another symbol on its own. Amaia, did you find this bird in its roost? Or did it call you to it?”

“It called me.” Amaia whispered. “Twice.”

“Twice? Ke’etunbits Taharei has given you a great blessing indeed. You have an important path ahead of you. Only He knows what it is, but it is always a good sign. And twice. To join the elders as chief or shaman, an eagle must only call upon you once. You are doubly blessed.”

The other women cheered and smiled warmly at Amaia.

“It is a big one.”

“It’s a male! You are destined to have many boys.”

“How are we going to cook it?”

“Roasted nuts and berries?”

“Stuffed with ground wheat and herbs?”

Soon, the discussion ventured into the realm of cooking the bird. It would need to be perfect. Amaia thought it over. “Mokan loves bird boiled in a stew with herbs and berries.”

“We can use the thick breast in a stew, the wings roasted and lightly stuffed?”

Amaia nodded, smiling. Preparations were made and each woman assigned to retrieve a different tool or ingredient. The tent filled with the comings and goings of the women, all bringing in different found herbs, flowers and spices, the tent filling with a rich aroma. Multiple fires were burning inside dug-out pits. Boiling water as well as a carved rock to allow the flames through was heating up, to be used as a grilling surface.

“Smells amazing, Amaia. Always a wonderful cook, you are.” Said Hetta, Amaia’s older sister, carrying her firstborn, a little boy yet to be named by the tribe.

“Thanks.”

“I’m so excited for you. I remember my betrothal feast. I hunted a rabbit, as did Daso. Equal Hunts for an equal marriage. I wonder what Mokan is going to find and cook for you.”

Amaia laughed, “I can’t wait to find out. Can you stir the pot?” Amaia asked, ripping up parsley and barley stalks.

“What goes with eagle?” Hetta asked, picking up the stirrer.

“Elder Leila told me the large animals, buffalo, Tanto, wolf, coyote, cougar. Those types of things”

“Anything to watch out for?”

“Other birds mainly. And Yellow-Pyker. But those are super rare, especially in this season. So, I’m just hoping for now other birds.”

“Imagine him coming back, pulling a wolf or coyote behind him. So strong and powerful, just like him. What an amazing sign from the spirits.”

“Hey, back to stirring sister. This needs to be perfect for tonight.”

The two of them heard a commotion from outside. Hetta stuck her head out. “Guess whose back!”

“Can’t be. Already?”

“And from his smile, it looks to be a very good Hunt. I wonder how he’s going to cook his find.”

Amaia continued cooking in the elder’s tent. Never leaving the tent for fresh air or supplies. All were brought to her by the other women, just as supplies would be brought to Mokan by the other men. As the sky began to turn pink and purple with the setting sun, fires were lit on torches and in the fire pits. The celebrations were beginning. Percussive music and singing took root in the village as small birds and animals were being served alongside picked fruits and vegetables.

Finally, it was time for Amaia and her betrothed to join the feast. Amaia left the elder’s tent, still clad in her hunting clothes, now smelling of lavender and cooked meat. Her hair now braided in a tight Rider’s Braid, befitting her status as a Tanto rider. Mokan left their betrothal tent, also in the same clothes he had gone hunting in, but now his chest was covered in dried paint, painted in intricate patterns and symbols. Those that had meaning to the tribe, village as well as special symbols that only Amaia would recognize and understand.

A broken tree, from where they had first met. A sitting Tanto, from when Mokan had helped Amaia care for Windbreaker. A fish, the meal Mokan had prepared before asking her and her mother to become betrothed.

Amaia smiled brightly at her betrothed. Seeing her made him return the smile, just as brightly.

“People of the Tanto.” The elder called out, hushing the entire crowd with just her words. All music silenced and all eyes turned to her. “We are here, before the spirits of this land to exchange meals. So that the spirits may determine if Amaia, the Rider of Windbreaker the Tanto and Mokan, the Caregiver and Warrior may fulfill their betrothal promises and become one spirit, if until a breaking arises. Amaia, share your bounty with the tribe.”

Amaia clapped and Hetta, along with other chosen women took out two portions of food. A large pot, filled with savoury smelling steam and a plate, littered with greens and the sweet stuffed wings. The crowd oohed and aahed and cheered for the meal, which was placed on a woven mat in front of the elder.

“Mokan, share your bounty with the tribe.”

Mokan nodded and clapped. Two men brought out a massive plate of food. It was sliced up and covered in herbs and lettuce, carrots and other roots. It smelled incredible to Amaia, her stomach grumbling at the sight, as well as the lack of food for the entirety of the day.

“Amaia, Mokan. Share with us your journey.”

Amaia started first. “I woke up after the setting moon. Hiding my tracks, I travelled east in the direction of the rising sun. I followed the stream north, until I heard it. The cry of my catch. I entered into the forest and found it. Perched up high into the trees. With an arrow, I shot it down. Prepared are two dishes. The wings, stuffed. And the breast, boiled into a stew. Just as Mokan likes it.” Amaia blushed, smiling profusely as she finished.

Mokan began next. “I woke up at the rising sun. A mysterious voice inside told me to travel east, in the direction of the rising sun.” The crowd looked at each other in delight. “I followed the stream, choosing south. And then I spotted my catch. It reminded me of the first meal we had shared as betrothed. And so I fished for it with an arrow. Prepared is a single dish. The body, sliced. The eyes, stuffed into two pieces for the children to find and make wishes on.” Mokan grinned at Amaia.

“Amaia, tell us your bounty.”

“A creature of Taharei, the Unspoken One, the great spirit of the mystical. A golden eagle which called out for me twice.” The crowd was stunned, but erupted into applause and cheers. Mokan’s face dropped.

“Mokan, tell us your bounty.”

Mokan remained silent for a long time, then looked up at Amaia longingly. “A creature of Ohtawa, the great spirit of the sea. A Yellow-Pyker as long as I am tall.”

The elder gasped in fright.

“No marriage can become of this betrothal. The spirits have sought different paths for these two. Two whom shall never. Ever. Be allowed to betroth. So say the spirits. So say the great spirits leaving but Kahala the sun and Redento Vihus the land to make their choice.”

The elder quickly threw dirt and sand at the central fire. Stomping it out for good measure. Amaia was struck with despair. The two were more than forbidden to wed. They were now forbidden from seeing one another again. One of them would need to leave the village.

[Rhodevus]

Family, Part 2

The doors to the Black Pirate Corporation were made from thick, robust steel and three layers of the highest quality of bullet proof glass money could buy. Each door weighed about two hundred and thirty pounds yet swung open easily along well-oiled and well-used hinges. Zaira entered the main hallway along with a dozen other individuals in suits and business attire. Compared to them, Zaira’s light blue ripped jeans, black leather jacket and signature pink streak of hair were completely out of place. Her face and body had been cleaned up of the majority of gore that had befallen her, but it did leave a light red tinge on her neck and forearms, covered by her jacket.

While the others walked through metal detectors before showing their identification cards to multiple security officers, Zaira walked through a separate entrance, the only officer on duty, carrying a submachine gun under his arm, nodding in her direction as she passed by. Zaira nodded, followed by a two-fingered salute and a wink in his direction.

The Black Pirate Corporation’s headquarters was a thirty-six-story building very much like the other high-rise office complexes in the greater Quiniac City area. Covered in glass, it was easy for those in adjacent buildings to look inside at the rows of desks; people sitting in their cubicles, typing on their computers and working their normal nine-to-five jobs. Every so often, a column of soldiers, noticeable in their black uniforms, would walk through, chatting with those at various desks and being sent off around the world. The BPC was a private military corporation. One of the largest in Rhodevus. With some forty-odd PMCs based in Rhodevus, it was on route to becoming one of the largest in the world. Tasked with dozens of operations every week, from security to peacekeeping operations to espionage to assassination, the corporation was a universal constant. The everlasting cold-war was a universal constant.

Zaira’s own personal floor was Floor 27. Containing her bedchambers on one side, a trophy room, sparring quarters and shooting range on the other, it was the only floor aside from her own mother’s that required its own key card as well as numerical password.
The elevator finally reached her floor, opening up to her bedchambers, the bed still messy and covered in newspaper clippings.
She sighed, taking off her belt and tossing it on the bed. It landed with a thump, still carrying a handgun and multiple knives. She peeled off her jacket, folding it and placing it carefully on her oak desk. Following, she stripped off her top and let her hair loose from it’s tight braid. As an afterthought, she closed the blinds to her floor-to-ceiling windows.

Zaira’s bulletin board was covered in pictures of Steven Winthorpe, connected by pins and red string. Marking connections to specific people and places. To the government; senators, mayors, incumbents. The Bannerless Brotherhood.
She flipped on the television. Like usual, it opened to channel four, twenty-four hour news. But, instead of changing the channel to her usual sports, she left it on. It was a breaking news story.

[bocktext]-earlier this morning. Mr. Winthorpe was the Owner and current CFO of the Winthorpe Company, the largest Private Military Corporation in the country. King Benner Wolff, a close family friend of the diseased has this far refused to comment on the situation, leaving all royal comments to his chief of staff, Lauren Hinderson.
“The King as well as the entire Wolff family is saddened by this most unfortunate news. Mr. Winthorpe was always a close friend and confidante. Friendly and kind.” [/blocktext]

Zaira let the television drone on in the background as she begun to remove the pictures and pins from the bulletin board.

”Mr. Winthorpe’s company has worked tirelessly alongside the government to rid North Ziamban of terrorist activities-“

“By supporting them, dumbass.” Zaira drawled at the screen, tossing her pile of pictures into the nearby trashcan and putting the pins back into a small jar.

A short ding came from the elevator.
“Hey ma, I’m in here. Just cleaning up.”

In walked a woman with her stringy black hair held together in a tight and professional bun. Her black suit shirt was buttoned with black buttons and a black skirt hung passed her knees. Black high heels completed her outfit.

“Impeccably dressed as always.” Zaira said, not turning to look at her mother.
Her mother stood at the entrance to her main bedroom. “Is that all you have to say? I may be your mother, but I’m also your boss.”

“Uh-huh.” Zaira rolled her eyes along with her whole body to face her. Ms. Linda. CEO of the entire Black Pirate Corporation. Multi-millionaire, verging on billionaire with the personal numbers of CEOs and world leaders on her cell-phone.

“Steve kicked the bucket. Sad, sad day for the world.” She mock cried, “anyways, when can I go somewhere more interesting than Port Joy? That place is a total dump. For my next mission, I’m thinking… Ispanza! Nice warm beaches, hot guys. Perfect spot to hunt terrorists or something right?”

Linda glared.

“Hey, it was just an idea. I’m not impartial to Shastara or Lindenholt or something?”
“Fine. If we get something in Ventismar, you will be the first to know. And no Ispanza, I don’t like that whole ‘hot guys’ idea you brought up there.”

“It’s a joke mom. Relax.”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, Zaira. Don’t think I don’t know about your habit of making out with my soldiers to find out where
I’m sending them.”

Zaira threw up her hands, “and who was it that taught me infiltration and espionage?”

“Let’s hope you stick to infiltration and not penetration.”

Zaira’s face blanched and her cheeks turned rosey. She covered he face with her hands, “Eeeww! I do NOT want to be talking about this with my mother! Especially while I still have the blood of some guy or three on me.”

Linda smirked. “I will let you know when your next mission is”. With that, she left leaving Zaira to herself.

[Rhodevus]

Climb, Part 1

“Diana Angelie Wolff! Get down here this instant!” The screams of Amelia could be heard throughout the Imperial Palace. The fuming of the petite Toa te Awan, sitting in her wheelchair was enough to make even the royal guards nearest to her to flinch.

Descending from the marble steps to the main lobby was an eighteen year old princess. The Heiress Héréditaire of the United Sovereign Kingdoms itself. Diana still wore her uniform from the flight she had only just arrived from, but had unbraided her long hair, letting it flow down her back and over her shoulders. Leaning over the last step, both hands on the railing, she replied, “yes mum?”

“What was this I just heard about you and President Sedari Kyotso in North Rukonia?” Amelia Wolff slammed a fist onto her armrest. Truly one of the River Warriors.

Diana huffed and stepped towards her mother sheepishly. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Besides behave yourself? You are an ambassadorial staff. And third generation royalty. You need to behave.”

“I’m ambassadorial staff, yet I’ve spent more time around those clowns than the Rukonian Ambassador has. Face it mom, he had it coming to him.” Diana put her hands on her hips. “I bet James would agree with me.”

“Unfortunately for you, James isn’t here right now. He’s in Port Joy in boarding school. You are stuck with me and your father.”

Almost immediately, a booming voice echoed towards them. “What was this about an international tossing?!” It was the most important man in the country. King Benner sauntered towards them, looking as regal as ever with a very stern expression.

“Sorry daddy?” Diana tried, as Benner stepped right in front of her, next to his wife.

And then he started laughing. “It’s on the news! Come come come come come come.” He said quickly, ushering his daughter towards a television set and flipping to the news.

A recorded-view of the North Rukonian President sitting next to the Rhodeve Ambassador to North Rukonia. Standing behind him was Diana in the same attire she was still wearing and a mildly ticked off expression. The president was speaking in a calm and collected manner.

“It is my hope that the ongoing trade talks with our close friends in Rhodevus will continue on its present course. There is a lot to still be discussed, from sheet metal and airplane engines and more before any tariffs are rescinded. We both are hoping for clear and free trading of goods with neither country being on unequal footing.”

“Yes,” the Rhodeve Ambassador replied. “It was discussed earlier that the trade negotiations will be extended passed August into October to allow for additional requirements and talks to go forth. We all want there to be a proper settlement and the best course of action with our allies is time.”

Behind the ambassador, Diana looked to be fuming, her hands clenched tightly into fists. Stamping her foot, she moved from behind the ambassador to in front of President Kyotso.

“I. am so deeply sorry, madame president.” She mocked, “but seriously? A lot to discuss? North Rukonian-Rhodeve trade is in the tens of billions of Rhodes and almost none of it is relegated to airplane parts and sheet metal. Try guns and volatile ores. Lying when you know I’m standing right there, the nerve. Like, I was there when my dad signed the trade deal? And honestly, more time is needed? You got the two month extension last fall and the four month extension last summer after the two month hiatus so you and your staff could plan and discuss concessions. What concessions? Trade’s already heavily in Rukonian favour by about 3.4 billion. And placing tariffs on Rhodeve goods and import taxes on Rhodeve goods? That’s just petty.”

The room looked stunned as the princess and ambassadorial staff railed on the president.

“The situation would take teenagers no more than an hour to figure out what to do. North Rukonia wants greater access to Rhodeve ship-building access and greater permissions in the Bay of Rhodevus during the summer months. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. And instead of asking for these things directly, which I bet we’d be happy to grant in exchange for a resuming of free trade and concessions regarding plastics and plastic goods. Bloody hell. You’re almost as bad as your predecessor.”

Amelia stared at the screen, mouth open. Diana looked slightly embarrassed. Benner however was loving every minute of it. “The Little Lion indeed! And didn’t you hear? President Kyotso even agreed to reducing the costs of exporting plastics to Rhodevus! My little girl knows her stuff!”

“You scolded a leader of a country.” Amelia’s quiet anger rose. “You can’t go around scolding international figures, Dee! You are lucky that Ambassador Freink only fired you and didn’t request a court-marshal!”

“Hey, perks of having an all-powerful dad.” Diana responded nonchalantly.

“Just… ugh, just go. I’m going to have a word with your father before we decide on a fitting punishment.”

Diana turned to her father, who was still chuckling. He silently said no and shook his head, between laughs, only to receive a slap on the arm by Amelia. Diana smiled and took that as her cue to leave, heading out of the room and towards the elevator.

The doors opened and the familiar chime rang when she stepped inside. To her left was her royal guard. “Hey, John. How’re the twins?”

“Still a handful, princess. They’re starting to teeth.”

“So cute! I need you to send me another picture of them. And it’s Diana, John. No need for the formalities.”

“Of course, princess.” John said.

The door stopped and opened into the garage.

“Taking the BMV again?” John asked.

“Nah, thought I’d try something new. I am on forced leave for another few days while my department tries to figure out what to do with a royal in the Diplomacy Corps. They can never figure out where to put somebody with more real experience than most of their ambassadors.”

“Well, good luck princess.”
“Say hello to Susan and the kids for me.”
“Will do, princess. Will do.”

With that, Diana stepped out into the garage and walked through the lot. It was large. About two hundred spots with three levels of underground parking. Everything from royal motorcade vehicles to military ones to her dad’s own personal collection. An interest that Benner shared with James was their love of cars, both old and new. Diana took after her mother and their love of driving those cars. James and Benner would rather spend the time underneath the hood than the wheel. Taking a set of keys from the shelf, she nodded at the two guards stationed there and clicked on the unlock button to get a sense of the car she’d chosen. An all-black Lancet-Deckard. James probably could have told her the make and model as well as a hundred other stats, but Diana didn’t care much for them. Instead, she hopped behind the wheel and turned on the ignition, letting the engine purr.

She flipped open her phone and pressed dial. “Hey guys. Ya, I got some time off. Hey, it’s not my fault she was being a dumbass. She totally deserved it. Anyways, you up for some free-climbing this afternoon? The grotto? Ya, I’m up for it. Care to bring my things? I left them at Charles’ place last month. Cool, be there in forty five.”

Pulling off her blazer and opening the top buttons of her button-down shirt, she switched gears and sped off, outside the Palace grounds and onto the main roads of Kingstown. A left turn onto the Trans-Rhode and Diana was flying. Windows down and music blaring, she sped through the cars, keeping to the right lane. After thirty-five minutes heading North, she turned off at a familiar exit and made her way to a small town, parking in front of a sign that read: The Grotto.

Beneath was a warning message, “The Grotto’s Ridge Pathway is for experienced hikers and climbers only. Traverse at your own risk.” Next to the black-on-yellow warning message was a colour-coded dial which declared the safety based on the weather. It was green today, meaning that there were clear skies and rain, wind or snow would not be an issue.

Diana stepped out of her car and slammed the door, locking it, just as a fire-red convertible pulled up beside her car.

“How could Dee have gotten here first! She’s a grandmother driver.” Maxine exclaimed while closing the passenger seat door. Charles stepped out of the driver’s seat and pulled a gym bag from the back, tossing it at Diana.

“Hey guys. How’s the army treating you two?” Diana said, slinging the gym back over her shoulder.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Charles replied, hugging her. “Half my time is spent in training and the rest is sitting around and waiting for something to happen. But I guess it’s not too bad. Could’ve been stuck in mopping up PMCs.”

“And I’m actually heading to Aznazia in a few days. Working with the mechanics down there. God do the greenbacks have nice tanks down there.” Maxine said, removing her sweater and leaving it in the car. “Anyways, Ridge Pathway?”

“For sure, Max. Just need to change out of this stuff. I still look super formal.”
“Nah, girl. You look hot.” Charles commented in an exaggerated manner.
“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you. And don’t forget your rifle.”
“Who do you think I am? Rule one of being a Rhodeve grunt. Don’t forget your rifle. And how about you, miss I-left-my-handgun-on-the-dash?”
“That was one time!” Diana flustered. “I’m going over there to change. No peaking, or I’ll shoot.”

Diana changed quickly out of her suit uniform and into more comfortable climbing gear. She placed her handgun in its place on her belt and made sure to fasten on the golden eagle pin into her black top, so that the colour and shape stood out.

When she ascended from the trees and bushes, her friends looked ready to go, already holding rope, carabiners and their chalk bags, as well as a dozen other useful items for the climb. Silently, the three began their hike into the woods, following the pathway. After about ten minutes, they turned off of the main pathway towards one labelled The Ridge. As soon as they lost sight of other hikers, they began to speak and joke with each other.

“So Dee. I have to say I love what you did in North Rukonia.” Charles began, Maxine stifling laughter behind them.

“Bloody… my parents are opposite sides of the coin on that.”
“Let me guess,” Maxine commented. “Amelia is livid and the King finds the whole thing hilarious?”

Diana snapped her fingers and pointed at the girl. “Bingo. I’m on administrative leave until the department can figure out where to put me where I won’t be able to over-shadow the staff or I won’t be considered ‘too in-danger’, as the higher ups say.”

Diana performed air quotes while saying, ‘too in-danger’. “Like, my father and grandfather didn’t have to deal with this crap when they served.”

“You forget, your dad and gramps are male. And both served active duty in the military. You’re Diplomacy. And of course, King Isaac was first in the line and he had an heir, while King Benner served. Was only afterwards that King Benner actually became the heir. Unlike you, who’s still the heir apparent since Joan turned down the position.” Maxine stated, matter of factually.

“It. Truly. Sucks.” Diana replied, stuffing her thumbs into her belt.
“And when did you become so knowledgeable on the monarchy?” Charles said, slapping Maxine on the shoulder.

“Since I read a book, dork.” Maxine slapped back.

“Get a room, you two!” Diana called, forging on ahead while the two continued to hit each other.

Finally, the sound of water could be heard. It was not the calm tinkle of a stream, but the roar of a waterfall. They had finally reached The Ridge. When the group made their way towards the clearing, they saw another couple preparing to make the climb.

“Hey,” Diana spoke up. The two in front of them lifted their heads. They first looked at the handguns that Maxine and Diana had at their wastes and the rifle which was slung over Charles’ shoulder, and then at the golden pins which were on each of them. Their expressions changed from a calm to a smile.

“Hello reds. Pleasure to see more of you lot on this trail.” The man said, flashing his own pin. The woman with him did not have a pin.

“Heading up the Side-fall?” Diana asked.
“Ya, it’s Lila’s first time and didn’t want to take her on the Ridgway. Guessing that’s where you’re headed?”

Diana nodded, just as Maxine and Charles reached them. “Ya. Should be great weather today for it. And now gun?” Diana flicked her eyes to his waist.

“Don’t need it.” The man flipped around a small sheath which hung on the back of his belt. It was a row of four throwing knives.

“Sweet.” Charles commented. “Haven’t seen a Serviceman off-duty before.”
The man laughed, “ya, we’re everywhere. Hard to notice without the gun. And you lot look to be fresh out of bootcamp?”

“Tankanic, Grunt, Diplo”, Maxine said, pointing to herself, Charles and Diana respectively, using the slang names for each of their positions. ‘Tankanic’ for working on tanks, ‘Grunts’ for foot-soldiers of lower ranks and ‘Diplo’ for someone in the Diplomacy Branch who does not have an official position.

The man did a look-over of the three of them, then a twice-over on Diana. “oh, prince-”
“Diana is fine,” Diana interrupted. “Formalities are pointless in informal locals.”
“Right you are Diana. It was a pleasure to bump into you. I won’t waste anymore of your time. Enjoy the climb.” The man said, smiling.

“Great to meet you all,” the woman; Lila said as well.
Diana and her friends smiles and said their short good-byes and continued onwards, over the bridge across the water-fall and to the far corner of the path. Another warning sign was bolted into the wall.

This is the Ridgeway Free Climb. Do not attempt Solo. Do not attempt without previous free-climbing experience. Climb at your own risk.

Underneath the bolded warning was an emergency phone as well as a list of numbers.

“So, who’s going first?” Maxine said, hands on her hips.
Charles raised his hand, “not letting you two take the credit of the first climb! Hey, pass me my gloves. They’re on your belt.”

Maxine searched around her belt. “You, what? You left your gloves on my belt?!”
“Duh, it’s not like I’m going to carry them myself.” Charles said smugly.
Maxine unfastened the gloves from her belt and whipped them at Charles, who held his hands up in defense. “Hey, watch it.”
“Pig, go climb. I hope you fall.” Maxine said jokingly. Charles mock bowed at her and faced the wall, digging his hands into a crevice and began the climb with the two girls watching below.

“Great butt!” Diana called up.
“You lift?” Maxine shouted afterward.
“Which one of us do you picture naked!” Diana yelled.
“Don’t look! I’m taking off my shirt!”
“I’m trying to focus!” Charles called down to them.
The two laughed, holding onto each other for support.
As their laughter subsided, they stared up at Charles as he slowly made his way up and began to climb horizontally along the rock face.

“So, how long have you and Charlie been a thing?”
“What? No. We-We aren’t anything.” Maxine grew flustered, “Charlie likes you.”
Diana mock laughed. “The name-calling. The play-fighting. Him always glancing at you.”
“My ass you mean?” Maxine smiled jokingly.

Diana shook her head, smiling as well. “No, not really. Just. You. And don’t tell me you don’t still have a crush on him.”

“I told you to not bring that up,” Maxine quickly whispered.
“Not bring up what?” Diana asked pleasantly. “That you HAVE A MASSIVE CRUSH ON CHARLIE?!” Diana shouted. Maxine hit her arm forcefully.

In the distance, they heard Charles’ voice. “What did you say?”
Diana burst into laughter as Maxine called out, “NOTHING! It-It was nothing! Finish your climb!”
“Why would you do that?” Maxine’s cheeks were bright red.
“Because it’s obvious to me and I’m so completely shocked that neither of you have said anything to each other yet?”

“Done!” Charles shouted. He was nowhere to be seen, having climbed the 50 or so meters up and 30 meters across the cliff-face to reach the top and continuation of the trail.

“Take some time to think on things.” Diana said, preparing herself to climb. “Charlie! I’m starting the climb!”

“Confirmed!” Charlie shouted back.

“See you on the other side, Max.” Diana held her best friend’s shoulder, and then turned to the wall. Sticking her fingers into her chalk bag and patting them together, she began her ascent.

[Rhodevus]

Yestin
1:00 pm
Queen Diana watched the helicopters depart with the leaders of Shastara, Rezua, Engleberg and Belantica. All heading towards the Gearhart Valley Military Complex for their war games. Rhodevus was the only of the leaders present to pull support for the games. It was written down as a financial decision, but in reality, it came down to Diana not wishing to hold a war games with what may as well have been the strong Commonwealth nations, and Engleberg. The last Commonwealth war games was not too long ago. It was indeed a waste of money, but it was also considered a waste of time and troops. Those that could be brought into Molenston or dispatched to bases around the world.

Diana patted her son gently on his back, as he babbled away in a mixture of baby talk and the few proto-words he was starting to pick up. In any of the three languages he heard regularly. She turned around and walked towards the main entrance, where the vehicle would be waiting for her.

“Your majesty, you are free until dinner at 7:30 this evening.” Said her secretary, who was in charge of her schedule for the duration of the trip.

“Thank you Carl, please notify the ambassadors and staff that I will not be attending dinner this evening. I will speak to them again tomorrow morning at breakfast.” Diana continued her pace through the castle.

“Are you certain-?”
“I am. Please, take the rest of the day to yourself. I will be heading out. Bel will be joining me.”
The secretary nodded and fell back, allowing the queen to walk alone.

Waiting in the front entrance was a black open-topped car. Standing on either side of it were two ambassadorial security personnel, tasked with guarding her during her time in Shastara. One opened the side door for her, but Diana shook her head.

“Not today boys. I will be heading out alone. No driver, no security.”
“Your majes-”
“I will leave my GPS locator on so you don’t worry. But this is a trip I’m taking alone. Care to move the baby-seat forward?”

Diana sat in the driver’s side, with little Bellami placed in the shotgun position, his seat facing backwards and strapped in and covered to protect him from the wind. She turned on the ignition, letting the car thrum to life. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the key with the note circling it. Unfurling the note, she finally read it in its entirety.

Diana sighed. “I guess I’m going home.”

October, 2007
“I’m Yestin. Yestin McTavish. We’ve been looking for you for weeks. We serve under Captain Weivar.”
“Richard?”
A jacket was held towards her.
“This is long enough to cover up. Please, take it.”

Diana reached slowly for the jacket. When she felt its soft material on her fingers, she snatched it towards her quickly, pressing it hard against herself. It had been such a long time since she had anything clean. Or, cleaner than her. The jacket had dried mud on its sleeves, but it still smelled fresh. She pulled it on and buttoned it up, using it as a dress.

“Captain Richard has been looking for you since the start of the rebellion. Since you first disappeared. But then when the tide began to turn, he was too busy on the front to look for you himself, so he handpicked us to continue the search. I am sorry I had thought you were dead all this time. I had hoped you were dead. Better than whatever they were doing to you in here.”

“You don’t want to know.” Diana’s face darkened. She would not reveal anything more.
“I guess I don’t.”

Diana was handed off to Lexi, a female soldier working with Yestin and Francis; the third in the trio which had saved her from the Imperial Maximum Security Prison. The prison was being cleared out of any remaining James Loyalists. She was the only prisoner in her wing of the prison. It gave her no comfort.

The sun above ground and outside was sweltering and blinding. Trapped inside for months had taken a toll on Diana; in ways she was still retching to discover. She could feel her ribs beneath her chest. Her stomach was concave from lack of nutrients and she was ghostly pale. A complete reversal of the dark olive skin of her Toa te Awan lineage. Lexi’s face was grim, staring at the woman who did not yet know she was to be queen.

Lexi lay Diana down on the back of a truck. Men and women of multiple nationalities littered the area, all rushing around their business, trying not to glance at the daughter of King Benner. “Water?” Diana croaked. Lexi rushed off.

Yestin returned. He helped Diana to a sitting position and held the bottle to her lips, letting her take in the fresh liquid in slow sips. “Are you ‘aight?”

Diana tried to say yes, but her voice got caught in her throat. She remained silent.

“Just… Just go slow. There isn’t a need to rush into things. Your own body will need time to recover. We can handle the fighting…”

4:30 pm
Wind whipped through Diana’s hair, flying behind her, tangling in its unpredictable way. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other was being nibbled on by young Bellami’s gums and tiny teeth. She was pushing the car faster than the speed limit would allow, but time was essential. She had been on the highway for some time, but turned off at a small exit. The changing scenery continued as mountains began to grow on the horizon and the tall buildings receded behind her.

Fields of wheet surrounded the single land road. Slowly, the smells became familiar. As if from a good memory. Or a happy dream. Diana guessed it was a happy dream. All those years ago. She closed her hand lightly around Bellami’s own. A small sign told her she was entering into Banfort, Centrallia.

She let out a slow breath and wiped away at her eyes. “Hey Bel, are you ready?”

A few babbles from her happy child was all she needed to calm herself down. Though not fully. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and anxiety replaced dread.

And then the small town came into view. Stone and wood houses, almost all with a small fence out front and a classic mailbox, as if the town itself was pulled directly out of the fifties. The roads began to twist and turn, as they moved further in, getting closer and closer to the base of the mountain.

“Here we are. Monx Road.” She steered right and crept the car slowly up the hillside. Houses became sparser, further apart with much large backyards. Finally, they reached number 37.

“I’m home.” Her voice cracked as she laid her eyes on the cottage once again. The driveway was paved and lined with large stone blocks on one side and a wooden fence which she had helped build, on the other. The house itself was large. A combination of wood logs and grey stone. It had massive and many windows, letting in as much natural light a possible.

She wiped at her eyes, not realizing tears had begun to fall. She quietly parked the car and stared into Bellami’s eyes.

October, 2008
Diana stared at the picture frame. It was just the four of them. Smiling and happy. Diana and her brother were young then. Around the same size, though she was older by three years, pushing at each other. Their parents sat behind them, her dad holding her and her mother holding him. It was the last photograph of all of them. Happy. Three weeks after that picture had been taken, her mother began to forget. First small things, like where she left her keys. Or what day of the week it was. Then bigger things. Like her’s and James’s names. Then who their father was completely.

She was put into a hospital. First hoping to find out what was wrong and then cure her of her sickness. But it was not a sickness, but a disease. An incurable one. Dementia. Her mother did have moments. Fleeting ones of her old life. She spoke with Diana about her day. Remembering times they went to the park, or saw a movie. She asked about her father, not realizing that she attended the funeral. And just like that. A snap and she was gone. Her memory of the conversation they just had, disappearing completely from her mind.

That was the only family Diana had left. Her father was gone. Dead and buried. She had not even been able to attend the funeral. She had not even known about the funeral or his death for a year. She tried to visit his grave once, but it still felt too surreal. He was so strong. So alive when she had seen him last. She had hugged him goodbye and straightened the crown on his head, reminding him to not let his appathet go to his head. King Benner the Great. He was great. A great leader. A great father. A great person. And he was gone.

There was her brother. James. A strong man in his own right. A great brother. At first anyways. They had grown apart those last few years. Diana had hoped to eventually mend their bond and become best friends like they had in their youth. But it was too late for them. He had her locked up. And tortured her. Had her doubting her very will to live. And then Richard killed him. And James killed Richard in turn. He had deserved to die in the end. But, he was still her brother.

Diana stared at that picture. There was nothing else for her to do. There was no way she could live up to her father’s name. No way she could undo the damage to her country that her brother did. There was nobody left for her. Nobody to tell her what to do. She was queen. Surrounded by advisors and supposed friends. But, she was more alone than ever.

She let her flat and bruised knuckles touch the tip of the picture frame. Flinching as they touched. She still could not get used to the sight of her own hand. The top knuckles of her pinky finger and middle finger on her left hand had been severed. She looked at it with distain. She was a Knuckless Ruler now, as the saying went. Someone unfit to lead. Someone too insane to even be considered human. As the tales go.

“My queen.” She spun around to face the intrusive voice. It was a man in a Commonwealth uniform. She turned back to the picture.

“Hello Yestin.”

Yestin walked into her room, kneeling down beside her bed, forcing Diana to look at him rather than the picture of her lost family. “That’s enough Diana.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s enough. I’ve given you space. I’ve let you wallow in your sadness for long enough. I’ve even let you stay inside the palace for months now.”

“I’m queen now,” Diana mused in a sullen, depressing way. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Well, now we are going to do what I want. Up en’attem Diana, it’s time to go for a walk outside in the garden before it starts snowing all over the place.”

“No.” Diana said, turning over in her bed.

“And you think I’m giving you a choice? You have fifteen minutes to get dressed. If you’re not out by then, I’m coming back in.”

True to his word, he returned in fifteen minutes. Diana had not since moved from her spot. Suddenly, she felt herself being thrown over a shoulder.

“What the hell?”
“I said I’d be back. I gave you time to get ready. Since you haven’t, guess it’s up to me to bring you.”

With just a little bit of a struggle, Yestin carried her from her room and out into the Imperial Palace’s hidden gardens.

Diana shivered. “It’s freezing.”
“You coulda gotten on some trousers. Not my fault you didn’t want to get outta your ‘jamas.”
“Fine. Give me your jacket.”
“What?”
“I said gimme your jacket. I order you to.”
“I’m Shastaran love. If you want my jacket, you are going to need to earn it.”
“And how will I earn it?” Diana said longingly.
“First, by cleaning yourself up. And then becoming the gal I heard about from before the war.”
“How? I can’t be that person again.”

Yestin placed his hand on hers.
“You’re not alone.”

August, 2010
It was a crisp Summer afternoon. There was a gentle breeze which swam its way through the high evergreens and oaks and into the low bushes. Diana lay on her back, lifting herself up on her elbows to see Yestin in front of her trying to shoo away a small fox with his shirt. “Back. Back, erm- fox. Back home to mummy.” He whipped his shirt out. The fox danced around it, yipping in reply, much to Diana’s enjoyment, bringing forth a small laugh. Yestin turned to her with a half-frown, half-smile.

“Well, if you think this is so funny, why don’t you give it a try?”

Diana shook her head and smiled. “Well, alright if you insist.” Without moving from her comfortable position, she let loose a loud high pitched whistle. The playful fox perked up its ears and turned to face her. If Diana had to guess, it looked like the fox was smiling back at her. “Hey little one. Run on home will you now?” Another high pitched whistle and the fox took a short step forward, then thinking better of it, ran off into the woods.

Yestin turned to Diana, then to where the fox had run off. Then back to Diana. “You must be a sort of witch. I have no bloody clue how you managed to do that.” Yestin walked over to her, defeated and slumped down beside her, laying down to face her.

Diana shrugged. “I guess it’s just another one of my many talents.” She smiled into his kiss. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Am I intimidated that you make more money than I do?” Yestin rolled his eyes. “Dear, I’ve seen your paychecks and bank accounts. I make more money than you do, even on a reserve’s pay. Giving all your money away is a part of the job, ain’t it? The real question you should be asking is if I’m intimidated by your assistant.”

“You’re intimidated by Anne? Forty-seven year old, wears glasses and is even shorter than me, Anne? I don’t believe it.”

“She’s a scary one. Can’t even visit you in the office without her asking a million questions. Including my personal favourite of when I’m going to pop the question.”

“When ARE you going to?”
“When I’m confident the answer is a yes.”
“And that’s not now?”

“You haven’t seen me at a hockey match yet between Rhodevus and Shastara I don’t want you running for the hills.”

Diana laughed. Birds chirped nearby. A screech of a Kingstown Golden Eagle was heard off in the distance. Yestin peered towards the tops of the trees, hoping to identify the source of the screeching.

“And isn’t it like bred into you Rhodeves to date forever?” Yestin continued.
“It’s not that long. We’ve been together, what, four years? My parents dated for ten.”
As Yestin was about to reply, they heard a rumbling in the bushes. Both their heads perked up to the noise.

“You were about to say something?” Diana pressed, still staring off into the distance.

“Who said it was anything important? Maybe I just didn’t want to be interrupted by the wildlife.” Yestin moved closer. Moving in for a kiss, he instead reached over her to their picnic basket and retrieved a pear, taking a satisfying bite from it, bringing Diana to laughter.

“It’s the moose, isn’t it?” Diana said nonchalantly, turning to look at the woods in front of them.

“What moose? I don’t see a moose.” Yestin spluttered. Diana gave him that look that he had all but become familiar with. A dimpled smirk with a raised eyebrow. Her eyes sparkling with knowledge. The one that said ‘I know you know exactly what I’m talking about’.

Yestin grumbled. “oh, alright. The telly said that this park had moose sightings. And I’ve been living in Rhodevus for four odd years. And not once a moose!”

Diana chuckled, “maybe it’s a sign. No moose unless you live here permanently.”
“Do I have a reason to?” He asked, clear sarcasm in his voice.
“I can think of one reason.” Diana leaned into Yestin.
He looked into her eyes very seriously. “If you are referencing what I think you are…”

Yestin smiled as Diana slapped him across the shoulder. Harder with each word. “I was trying to be romantic, you great buffoon!”

“I don’t know who you’re trying to fool. You’re like a foot shorter than me. If you think you can slap.”

Yestin laughed when Diana tried to slap him harder. Finally, he grabbed her wrist, smiling into her eyes. From behind him, he retrieved a multi-page document. At the top read ‘Rhodeve Ministry of Immigration’.

Diana’s face dropped. “No. Is this?” She needn’t have finished her thought. Yestin was already nodding his head.

“I started. In six months I’ll be an official citizen of Rhodevus. With all the perks that come with it. I heard their queen was quite beautiful.”

“Oh? Is she now?”
“Not as beautiful as you, of course.” His voice was stern. “What ring size are you?”

“You already asked me that last week.” She turned sideways to face him fully. Her long black hair flowed gently behind her, across her back and onto the red and white picnic blanket they were laying on.

“Maybe I’m just trying to confuse you. Who’s to say I’m not trying to buy you brass knuckles or something?”
“I like to think you know me better than that.”
“I do. That’s why they will be studded with green opals. Maybe an emerald or a pearl if I can’t find any.”
“I love you.” Diana leaned forward.

“I love you too.” Yestin leaned forward slowly, holding her hand tightly. Just as they were about to kiss, Yestin pulled Diana forward, off the blanket and down the soft slope towards the woods. “Come on! Moose awaits!” The two ran together, hand in hand, smiled on their faces, laughter on their lips and love in their hearts.

6:45pm
The door creaked open, sliding uneasily along its hinges having not been touched in years. Even with the natural light shining in through the large floor to ceiling windows, the house looked dark to Diana. Dark and void of joy. She took a slow step forward, clutching Bellami tightly in her arms. Loud against the wood floor, her steps carry her into the main hall, turning passed the stairs to the second floor and into the dining room.

The room itself was large, with a window reaching from the pointed ceiling to chest level. A large chandelier hung over the round metal and glass table; the table itself coated with a line of dust. The center of the table held a small ornament. A piece of stone chiselled to look like a horse rearing on its hind legs. She smiled a small smile, letting her fingers run over the polished stone. She and Yestin had fought for days over it. She had wanted a fruit bowl or something useful on the table. Yestin had wanted something for decoration which could be moved and removed when they were eating. Their argument was settled when Diana placed a cluster of bananas on the horse’s snout.

Diana plced Bellami on the floor, letting him crawl around this new environment. She looked out the window, admiring the hills and mountains in the distance. The perfect thing to look out at when dining. Under the window was a long cabinet, filled with their good china. The cabinet top held a few pictures in their frames. Most of them were of her and Yestin. Diana and Yestin laughing at the beach. Diana and Yestin with his parents. Another with them and her mother in the hospital. Another still with the two of them on vacation in Aznazia.

She turned the corner and walked into the kitchen. Unlike the rustic, home-made look of the previous rooms, this one looked futuristic. The walls were still wood logs and the floor had ceramic tiles which fit with the rest of the house, but the appliances were all new. New at the time. A large refrigerator and freezer in one corner with a gas-electric stove containing six burners and an oven underneath. A microwave at eye level, hanging underneath rows upon rows of cupboard space. Most everything inside had been removed. Either by Yestin’s family or their friends. Now, it was just a dusty reminder of what could have been.

Diana continued forward, glancing at the stairs to the basement, but deciding better of it.

She turned to look at Bellami, who was attempting to climb up the first stair upstairs. She smiled a smile that did not reach her sad eyes. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her child up, much to his amusement and proceeded up the stairs.

Pictures hung along the wall, keeping at level with the ascending staircase. There were a few of them and their families, but there were also paintings. Paintings of boats and sunsets and animals. Anything that the two of them had found and thought tould look nice in their home but did not know where to put them. Somehow, all the extra wall décor had found it’s way onto that wall, filling it up in an unorganized manner that had led to quite a few fights between Diana and Yestin. Both had wanted to clean up the wall, but neither could decide which paintings and pictures to give away or throw out. After hours of argument, the wall was always left as it was.

Diana reached the top and placed Bellami onto the ground, making sure to close the baby-gate that had been installed when Yestin and her were thinking of purchasing a dog.

Right across the hall was their room, the master bedroom. Too many pictures and memories. She decided to turn into Yestin’s office instead. As soon as she stepped inside, a wave of guilt and remorse hit her. It still looked like his office. The same desk and cluttered top. Piles of paper and file folders around the room in a disorganized fashion.

The office was technically the both of theirs. They both had used it regularly, with Yestin taking the half of the room closest to the bedroom and her taking the half closest to the stairs which she had just climbed. Her half was always more neat and organized, and yet Yestin could still find a specific piece of paper hidden under the mess faster than she could find anything of hers. Her area was cleared out completely. All the papers had been brought home with her to Rhodevus long ago. And Diana had only ever done the bare minimum of work there anyhow. It was their vacation home. Unlike the Imperial Palace in Rhodevus which was her actual place of work and rest.

But then she remembered. The nights of arguing and attempts at cleaning up the room. Of fighting to find a new office space for the two of them. Of the walls which had been repainted a more friendly colour in preparation. This was supposed to have been a future nursery.

February, 2011
“What did you want to show me that involved a trip back home to visit your parents and a three hour drive to… to where exactly?” Diana asked from the passenger seat of the car.

Yestin was driving along at a regular pace, one hand on the wheel, the other around Diana’s shoulders.

“Told you, I just wanted to do a little sight-seeing and visit the folks.” Yestin repeated, in his usual fashion. Trying not to give anything away to the person who could read him like a book. “And it was you who had decided to cash in all those vacation days and use them all at once. How many days of freedom was it? Twenty-four?”

“It was Twenty-seven. What’s the matter if I take a month off? Even if I’m still doing the basic essentials.” Diana crossed her arms.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just means I get more time with you. And of course, we can spruce up this place.”

“What place?”
“Oops.” Yestin let out, pursing his lips, trying not to spill anything else.
“Yestin, where are we going?”

They turned onto an unfamiliar street. “Monx Road,” Diana read. “You Shastarans have some weird street names.”

“Ha! Says the girl born on ‘Burton Street’?”
“Touché.”

The two travelled up the winding road. The houses were nice. Exactly what Yestin and Diana had talked for hours upon hours about. Almost a cottage feel to them, while still being perfectly functional. And they all had large yards and space. No matter the size of the house, the two of them loved having large backyards.

As they drove, the two began commenting on each house.
“That one had great stone-work.”
“And I love the natural lighting going into that one.”
“That one looks incredible. Maybe just a tad too dark wood for my taste.”

Finally, Yestin turned onto the driveway of one house number 37. Diana’s mouth hung open. It was a perfect house.

“Please tell me we can go inside and look around? Do you think the owners will let us? I assume so if you’re turning onto their driveway. Do we know who lives here?” Diana rapid-fired questions at her boyfriend.

“Slow down Dee! Give a man a moment to answer!” Yestin laughed. They pulled into the empty driveway and parked the car. Stepping outside, the two stretched from the long car ride. Yestin gestured for her to go and knock on the door.

There were four short steps leading to the door. They were made out of thick dark grey stone. The house itself looked to be like a large log cabin, with huge windows covered by blinds. Diana knocked on the door.

No answer.

She turned around and saw Yestin on one knee.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Diana asked, slightly nervous.
Yestin smiled. “Trust me, not what you’re thinking.”

Diana leaned backwards against the door.

“Well, it’s been a year now since we’ve moved in-together. Back in Kingstown in your palace.” Yestn began. “And, we’ve talked about it for quite some time now. A place to call our own. Somewhere we could escape to. Out and off the beaten path where nobody would care who we were.”

Yestin retrieved a small blue ring-box from his pocket and flipped the top open. Inside was a silver key.

“I know it’s a pretty big decision. And I’m honestly quite surprised you haven’t noticed since now. With all the questions I’ve been asking about house sizes and interior and exterior design.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed. I just did not know what you would be doing with the knowledge.” Diana said.

“Shush woman! I’m trying to be heartfelt here!” Diana laughed.

“Anyways, as I was saying. This wouldn’t be for us for always. Just… a vacation home. Someplace where we could escape to. Maybe even raise a little-one further down the road. But for now, would you do me the honour of living with me? A trial month as it were?”

Diana picked up the key from the box, smiling. “I’d love to.”

She unlocked the door and stepped into her new home.

7:20pm
Diana looked back at the stairs going down to the main floor. It was what she was dreading doing since she first arrived. She took a very shaky breath, tears getting caught in her throat. She picked up Bellami whom had been playing with a door-stopper and proceeded down the stairs.

Then she continued, opening the door to the basement. One final breath and mental push, and she took the first step down into the dark. Then another. And another. Bellami clung tightly to his mother’s neck, noticing the change in her posture and movement. She reached the final step and flicked open the light.

Unlike the other rooms in the house, which were dusty, but still well put-together, this one was truly messy. It was filled with things. Stacks of paper, extra supplies. Jackets, boots and ski gear piled together haphazardly. It was mainly Yestin’s things. Things that she had no idea what to do with, but the thought of throwing them out at the time had crushed her. This. This here was Yestin. All the things they had done and were planning on doing together. In boxes and piles around the basement floor.

There was a half-finished wooden canoe which the two of them had begun assembling. They had once hoped to take it out of the water and feed the ducks which always preferred the center of the lake to it’s shore.

Diana wandered around the room, looking at everything. She picked up a small basketball and rolled it over in her hands, placing it down gently where she had found it. Then she saw it.

A medium sized brown chest. It looked to have been something straight out of a pirate movie, lock and all. It was Yestin’s. His memorabilia box. Where he had stored all his favourite things since his youth. He had been very into pirates as a child. It had once housed his collection of action figures. Later it held his coin collection and even later, spare munition. She had not seen it, nor what was inside it in years.

Kneeling down next to it, Diana retrieved the key which that man in Shastara had given her what felt like so long ago. Placing Bellami between her legs, she reached for the lock and opened it.

April 17, 2013
3:28pm
Sirens and flashing lights. Complete shock. The ambulance rocked, as it angrily tore through the streets. Diana clutched his hand in both of hers, refusing to let go, even as the paramedics worked around her. It was dark in the ambulance, the light being blocked by the three men working to save his life. Blood was everywhere. Bandages were strewn across his body, as O- blood was pumped into him at an alarming rate. The bleeding would not cease. Her tears would not cease. Nor the quiet moaning and Diana’s quiet words. Praying for everything to be alright.

“1, 2, 3. Lift!” The bed was raised and lifted from the ambulance, and rushed into the hospital. Diana tried to follow, but was blocked. Two security guards barred her. “I’m sorry. Doctors only.”

“No!” Diana screamed, punching at the chest of one of them. “Please! Let me through.“ Tears flowed freely from her eyes. The two guards looked at each other, and then back to the Queen of Rhodevus, as she fell into their arms; all strength leaving her body. They knelt down with her, joining in her tearful embrace, her cries transitioning to sickly sobs. Of someone who knew the worst, but was still hopeful of the best.

The chair was stiff and uncomfortable and Diana wished for nothing more than to rise from it. And yet she could not. No matter how much her body ached, her mind was as focused as it had ever been. When all was lost, it turned to the one thing it was good at. Calculations. Dozens of them running through her mind simultaneously, only a few appearing in her conscious thoughts. Bringing forth any information from television or school or what she had read in her lifetime which may help her put a number to the likelihood of his survival. Yet nothing was good enough. No amount of postulating, or reshaping the numbers or equations could give her the information she desperately needed.

The blinds were drawn shut. They had been that way for hours. As a dozen doctors and surgeons were working on his body. Bringing some life back into it, as best as they could. Doctors from both the public and private sectors; the best and brightest in the country were helping. In-person or over the phone. No price was too high for his life. Diana had sacrificed enough to even get the chance of meeting him.

A doctor stepped out of the room and turned to her, his eyes full of sadness. “I’m sorry. He isn’t going to make it. But, he is awake for now. And incredible pain. He wants to speak with you before we put him under again. I don’t know how long-”

Diana let out a fresh burst of tears, moving past the doctor and into the room. She knelt down beside his bed, taking his hand in both of hers, looking into his wide eyes. Then ringing. The constant ringing. The sound she would never forget.

His eyes did not blink. They would never blink again.

7:34pm
Diana hastily wipes away the tears from her eyes. Yet, the won’t stop pouring out. Looking inside the chest, she retrieves framed pictures. Surrounded in a small wooden frame was a picture of her and him. She was sitting on his lap. The two looked happy and young. It had been the first picture they had taken after their very first date. She placed it carefully back inside. There was a newspaper clipping. It was a short blurb on the two of them, dating back to 2008. There was a picture of them. Diana in her night wear, being carried over the shoulder by Yestin on his way to the secret gardens of the Imperial Palace. It had been so long ago. When Yestin had finally told her to stop wallowing in pity and to get back to her old self.

There were some toys still inside. A stuffed brown bear from when he was a child and a small stuffed moose which Diana had won for him at a fair.

She spotted something. It was small. Underneath some more picture frames and tucked into the corner away from prying eyes. A familiar small, blue velvet box. She retrieved it, wiping away at her own face. It had once held a key to the very home which she now sat in.

Carefully opening the lid, Diana stared sullenly at a beautiful emerald perched atop a gold wedding ring.

2016
Diana smoothed out the wrinkles in her jeans and straightened her button-down shirt. The room held only a few other women in it, all of varying ages, reading magazines or checking their phones. Diana herself could not find a way to sit still. Her feet bounced and she could not decide what to do with her hands, changing from braiding her hair to tapping on her thighs every few seconds. Her eyes glanced around the waiting room. A name was called and a woman stood up and was led out into a separate room.

“Diana?” Her name was called and she stood up abruptly. The nurse holding open the door smiled at her and led her to a much smaller room. The walls were a very light lavender. A check-up bench took up the length of the back wall and a gynecologist’s chair took up a corner. She sat herself down on the bench, her feet hanging off the edge and her face pointed towards the front door. “I’m Doriah, a new nurse here. From your chart this is your… first appointment here?”

Diana nodded. “I’ve been to a few others, just…”

“You haven’t found what you were looking for?”

Diana blushed, but answered yes.

“Anything in particular? Certain traits you are looking for? Specific genes that compliment your own?”

“Well, sort of. I’m hoping to find someone in particular, but it was donated a long time ago. I doubt if it’s even still available. It’s probably been taken already.”

“Then I wish you luck. You did fill out the form when you first arrived, so I picked out a few files that I think may suit you. If anything, why not take a look at them to pass the time?” Doriah dropped the folders down beside Diana and turned to leave.

“You can stay… If you want to of course.” Diana added quickly. “Maybe help me look through these?” Doriah smiled and nodded, sitting down beside her.

“So, subject fifteen eighty three A. This one I thought you might like. Nearly a perfect match to your questionnaire.”

Diana opened the top folder to a list of traits. The name was documented as ‘N/A’, meaning that the man had no wish to be found or acknowledged by any possible offspring.

“He’s tall. Six feet, four inches.” Doriah looked at Diana’s own petite stature.

“A foot taller…” Diana said, moving her finger farther down the page. “He’s from here? Shastara?”

“It appears so. Three generations Shastaran and before that, Capslandian on his mother’s side. Brown hair, blue eyes. A great combination if I do say so myself. Though, with your brown eyes, the chance of your child being blue is quite slim.”

“Says here he is 180 pounds. Was in excellent shape. Great proportionally and tremendously strong metabolism, even into his thirties, when the sample was donated.”

Diana shrugged and continued reading. She reached a line, and her face cringed. “Not the smartest man in the toolshed, was he.”

“There is more to intelligence besides his IQ.”

Diana sighed, “I know, but without the man in front of me, it is unfortunately the best I can go on. Unless you have his report cards or something.” She laughed quietly.

“So… next?” Doriah nodded alongside Diana and pulled up the next document. Opening it, they both read it silently for a few moments. “So, what was he like?”

“Who?” Diana’s head perked up, turning to face Doriah, who still read the file.

“Your boyfriend. Or husband. What was he like?”

Diana looked down, towards the ground, her eyes turning glossy. “Kind. He was so smart and funny. Knew how to get me to open up when nobody else could.”

“Tall?”

“He was so tall,” Diana half-laughed, half-cried. “We dated for four and a half years.”

“And he didn’t pop the question?”

“Oh, he tried to.” Dian rubbed her face with the back of her hand, clearing away what tears she could. “I told him it was too early. But we both knew it was inevitable. Nearly inevitable. This one has hazel eyes,” Diana pointed to the file, trying to change the subject.

After one last glance, Doriah allowed the subject change. “He’s part Ziambani. Shastaran born, though was schooled in Rhodevus. Commonwealth army it seems.”

“When was this sample…”

“It’s fairly new. He’s only twenty.” Doriah continued, “that means strong swimmers. Less chance of failed pregnancy than the older samples.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door. It opened slowly and a doctor walked in, his face serious and stern. “Doriah, can you…” She nodded at the doctor and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Diana looked up at the doctor, her eyes full of hope. “You’ve been to twelve banks so far?”

“Yes. This will be my third in Shastara.”

“Lucky for you, our database is connected to about thirty others across the country.”

“And?”

The doctor looked at her seriously for a long time. Diana held her breath. And then he smiled.

“We found it. Not here, mind you. You will need to go to the next city over, but we found it. It’s being thawed and saved for you.”

Diana did not know what to say. Her mouth fell open. As much as she had hoped, she did not believe in her wildest dreams that it could be found. Finally, she smiled a full-body smile.

“Yestin.”

[Rhodevus]

Climb, Part 2

The Ridgeway was a series of four progressively difficult free climbs, each between 15 and 50 meters long. The first climb, took place after a four-kilometer hike through the Grotto, turning off at a sign for ‘The Ridge’, which was the final destination of the Ridgeway along with two other trails of lesser difficulty. The first climb was 32 meters long, making it the second longest free climb of the trail.

Its features included a 90-degree vertical climb for 30 meters and a 110 degree climb for 2 meters. Natural features, as opposed to geological features, included a small cavern home to a family of 35 bats as well as a bee hive and dried moss. The climber also had to move sideways 12 meters before reaching the top.

The second climb was the longest at 50 meters, but also the easiest. Just a single 85-degree climb all the way up. The only thing which made it truly difficult was the annoyingly small amount of hand and foot placements. To reach the second climb from the first, a 2-kilometer hike uphill would need to be completed.

The third climb was 27 meters long and required a 750-meter trek through rocky terrain, all uphill to reach, along the side of a cliff with no guard rails. The climb itself had two large outcroppings at 10 and 24 meters up, which allowed for the climber a few minutes of rest before continuing. Rockslides however were common and so a bright yellow warning sign nearby warned climbers to not take more than 35 minutes to complete each.

The final climb was the shortest, at only 15 meters, but was the feature which gave the Ridgeway its high climb difficulty. To reach this fourth climb, a 250-meter hike must be completed. This hike is along naturally carved steps along the side of a mountain with a four-hundred-foot drop to the forest below. The steps are each wide enough to properly place a single foot on. This intermediary hike is considered the silent fifth feature of the Ridgeway, and the only portion with carabiner hooks drilled into the wall.

The final climb is done entirely at an angle, so the climber is hanging upside-down. Short as it is, it is done right beside the Sulgova Falls. Water rumbling through the narrow offshoot nearby regularly strikes at the back, arms and legs of the climbers, leaving an often-slippery surface and few handholds not filled with moss or smooth from decades of a constant barrage of water.

The entire 3.072-kilometer-long one-way trail can only be done in one direction with no routes back. It was either finish the trail, or call for a helicopter to come to the rescue. Suffice it to say, Diana, Maxine and Charles had never called for a rescue in the nineteen times they had completed the Ridgeway. Not to say there were no close calls.

“Going to ask to call for a heli, Princess?” Called Charles from above.

Diana grumbled.

“Is the baby ambassador going to scold me?” Came Maxine from below.

“Ya!” Diana retorted, switching her grip on the rockface to push herself up a little bit higher. “Just like a Rukonian president.”
At least that got some laughs out of the two.

It was quite pleasant hanging off what felt at times like the edge of the world. She had yet to climb high enough to see Charles’ feet hanging over the ledge, but she was also out of view of Maxine down below. Placing a foot and hand into a secure hold in the cracks along the rock, Diana swung around, allowing herself a perfect view of the forest and river surrounding them. Not a huge distance, as tall trees blocked most of the view, but far enough to really feel how small she was compared to the world.

A lot of people found the idea of being so small to be frightening. Not her. Maybe it had to do with her actual height, she did normally feel like the small one surrounded by giants; especially in North Rukonia or Rezua, or maybe it had to do with being a minor celebrity thanks to her status. Either way, she enjoyed the feeling. Of being alone. Of being small.

It brought a pleasant smile to her lips. So too, did the inhale of fresh summer air. Diana loved the outdoors. Hiking, kayaking, climbing. Especially climbing. Out of the three of them, she had the most experience. Both free-climbing and mountain climbing. It was a perk of the diplomacy branch of the military, as well as a perk from her status as princess. She got to travel the world and be paid for it, and if she innocently requested some time to explore the natural landscape of whatever country she was stationed in, who would refuse the princess? The Heiress Héréditaire.

Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and let the wind gently blow through her undone hair. Birds chirped in the afternoon sun.
“God dammit,” Diana mumbled. The full weight of what she had done in North Rukonia to a North Rukonian president slamming into her.

It was all over the news. The princess acting up yet again. What children King Benner had. A princess who was too smart for her own good and a prince who seemed to know everything going on before anyone else. What a pair the two of them made. She mentally noted that she should call James sometime in the near future. It had been far too long since they had last spoken.

But back to the crux of the matter. She had upstaged the Rhodeve ambassador to North Rukonia. She had scolded a freaking head of state. And it was probably going to be talked about for some time. On the news, radio, newspapers. She might have accidently cost the ambassador his job and probably another half a dozen staffers who had all been working hard to complete that trade deal with North Rukonia.

Even more so, Diana had scolded an elected official in the highest office. There was a good chance she just cost the president her reelection. She might have turned her into a laughing stock in front of the entire world. This was…

This was really bad.

Possibly the worst one yet. She knew she was... rambunctious. And prone to speaking her mind. Her nickname in elementary school was Baby Ambassador for crying out loud. Maybe it was her native name playing tricks on her. Making her act more ferocious than she should really be. Nobody would expect for a Little Lion to not try and become the king of whatever jungle she was in.

She knew it was a bad habit. She wasn't her father. Her father would know when and how to broach any topic. To criticize a person to their face and have them smile and thank him for it. Diana would need to behave. She was a minor diplomatic staff at best. She couldn't call the shots. She shouldn't. Not with her attitude...

“Dee! What the hell is taking you so long? Forget you were hanging off the edge of a cliff!” Maxine shouted. “I still want to have my turn!”

Diana shook her head, removing the more intrusive thoughts from forming. “Sorry! I’ll be right up!”

The rest of the climb only took a few minutes. She let Charles grab her wrist and pull her up the last foot. With a shout of “I’m up!” from Diana and “Climbing!” from Maxine, the world returned to silence.

Diana flicked off Charles’ hand from her shoulder.
“Dee, you doing alright? You were just staring into space.” He looked at Diana curiously, with a hint of worry. Diana smiled.
“No, just a lot on my mind. Just thinking about Maxine’s tits!”
“You always do!” Came Maxine’s voice from below.

The two of them laughed.

“But seriously. Dee, everything’s good? I know we’re here to get your mind off your latest ‘demotion’, but it’s alright to talk it out a little.”

Diana sighed, tucking her head between her knees. “It’s just all hitting me at once, you know?”
Charles nodded.

“I don’t think what I did was wrong. Not really anyways. The Rukonian president was talking around the situation and our ambassador was letting her. It had to be cleared up. But… what I did was in public. It might get a lot of good people fired or demoted or dozens of other things which could potentially affect them for the rest of their lives. And I’m me. It’s not like I can actually be punished for what I did. The bigwigs know I’m valuable to them because of my name. Not even just the royalty thing.”

Charles chuckled, “I know. You lot are the first royal dynasty. Lot on your shoulders, especially since your dad doesn’t have an heir yet. And trust me, I know all about the monetary part of your name as well. I’ve taken a look at your bank account and allowance.”

Diana shoved him playfully, “not my fault my parents are loaded. You’re just jealous.”

“Did you see the care I got here in?” Charles nodded in the direction of the parking lot. “I may not be Wolff loaded, but I think I’m doing pretty alright for myself.”

“What are you too yapping about! I was expecting more insults!” Maxine’s voice rang.

“You’re just so dull, there isn’t much to say!” Charles shouted down.

“Low blow Charlie! That was a dick move!”
“That’s not the dick you were thinking of!”

Charles laughed loudly over Maxine’s “hey!” falling onto his back.
“Diana you pervert!” Maxine’s hand appeared at the edge.

“Not my mind that was thinking about it, Max.” Diana stood up, grasping Maxine’s wrists and letting Maxine get a good hold on her before she started pulling up.

Brushing of her pant leg and then fixing her curly hair, Maxine looked at the two of them. “Welp, one down. Three to go.”
“Lead the way, babe.” Charles bowed.
“Ass.” Maxine retorted.
“Jerk.”
“Dillweed.”
“Just get a bloody room, you two!”
“Hey!” The both shouted together at Diana’s remark.

Diana laughed as she pushed them forward by their shoulders, starting the hike to the next climb.

[Rhodevus]

Family, Part 3

Zaira woke up in the early hours of twilight to the red flash of her corded phone by her bedside. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, she lifted the phone from the receiver. “Yes?” She asked groggily.

A stern male voice answered her. It was a voice she had grown accustomed to hearing. She was to get a new assignment. And why it had to be given to her so early was beyond her understanding. No doubt it was her Mother’s doing. Everyone else received their orders when they arrived to work in the morning. Since she lived where she worked, obviously it meant that Zaira was on call 24/7, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Not that Zaira complained too much about the work. It was all she had ever known. It allowed her to work alongside the best of the best and take down the worst of the worst. Very few could say that they did as much good for the world as Zaira.

“You are to pack for two months trip. You will be following a high ranking Brotherhood operative that is a prominent and well-known member of the Rhodeve military. It is imperative to the Black Pirate Corporation and the Rhodeve government that this man does not know he is being followed. Secrecy is utmost paramount to this mission.”

“And his name?”

“Mission secrecy does not warrant my own knowledge of his name at this time. You will be informed of who you are to gain intelligence about on the trip.”

Zaira’s eyes perked up. This was an important one. Highly classified. So confidential that even her handler was not informed of who she was gathering intel about. Potentially insecure lines over the phone, no doubt. And a two-month operation. It was a long one. Her longest yet. That meant it was not a kill mission. But a retrieval mission of some sort. Much harder to do without getting caught. Zaira was immediately awake and excited. A quick run around her room to gather her things, and she was nearly ready to go. She donned her black leather jacket and checked her hair in the mirror. The pink stripe among her raven black hair was still easily visible and would not need to be re-dyed in the next few weeks. All set and ready to go.

“Are we there yet?” Zaira wined from the back seat of her limousine. The tinted windows gave the car the impression is was carrying a person of note and people peered into the window to try and figure out who it was. Zaira however, was sprawled on the long leather couch, boot on the window in a rather unpleasant position. On the couch opposite her was her things, packed tightly into a camper’s bag to look like she had been hitchhiking across the country.

Zaira reached back and opened the mini-fridge to see how well stocked it was, only to grumble in disappointment. Nothing but waters. The window to the driver’s seat opened to the chauffeur; her handler.

“Zaira, it was a brilliant stunt you pulled back there at the Winthorpe Corporation last week. And I wanted to let you know that after this mission, you have been placed on spreadsheet duty for the rest of the year.”

Zaira sat up quickly, “what the hell? I got the guy, didn’t I? And you said yourself that there was no need for silence.”

“I said there was no need to hide our involvement in this attack.”

“Well, lucky for you the one guy I told now has a knife in his chest.”

“And the rest of them? The six you dispatched during your little torture session? Or was it seven?” Her handler mused, only slightly angry.

“I had to get in the building somehow. And there was no way I’d have been broken. The guy was an amateur at best. And you taught me everything I know.”

“Apparently not everything I know. Couldn’t you have handled this mission more like the Lieutenant Brown situation? Or even the assassination intel report on the king’s daughter? That was a perfectly executed mission. This one was a disaster.”

“Disaster? Then why am I being brought to the airport for an international mission?”

“Who said anything about international?”

Zaira breathed out heavily, clearly annoyed with the man driving her. “What am I doing then?” She tried to sound calm and collected.

“Flights to Acadia, Brevin, Cundas City then Ile du Fleurs then back with multiple layovers so the travel log of you is good and well confused. Multiple falsified identifications of course? Three days of travel. And only then will you get a mission briefing. On this.”
He held up a small flip phone cell-phone, tossing it gently into the back seat. Zaira grabbed it and shoved it into her pocket. Spending three days on airplanes was not her idea of a good time. She leaned back, arms folded. The remainder of the drive would be in silence. There was nothing more to say between them, though both of them knew they had plenty of words for the other.

The limousine turned into the Quiniac City International Airport. Zaira opened the door with her foot and stepped out, straightening her leather jacket and placing her strand of pink hair behind her ear. Shouldering her bag, she walked ahead, fake driver’s licence in hand, ready for the first of many flights.

[Rhodevus]

The Project
2017

The airport was bustling with activity, as it usually was. The Amaia Windbreaker International Airport located in the DeMalha district of the Imperial City of Rhode, was Rhodevus’s largest and most-travelled airport for a reason. Not only located in the heart of the Imperial City, its expansive transportation network and excellent service consistently had it rated among the best places to travel to and from. Not to mention, as such a heavily trafficked spot, there were plenty of guards and security on standby for any situation. Not that there had been any in almost twenty-five years.

It was nearly 4:15 in the afternoon when an ordinary red and yellow taxi arrived at the international departures terminal carrying a single man and his two bags. One bag was a weathered, old, green duffle, with straps which looked to be much newer, having been replaced only a few months back. This bag was carried haphazardly over the man’s shoulder, with a simple key-lock keeping its contents safe and secure. The man’s other bag was both larger and longer, coming in at about half the man’s fairly tall height.
This bag was more of a heavy-duty case, built with what seemed to be thick, reinforced plastic, holdings its contents in with two heavy duty locks and a 14-digit rotary lock in between.

The man received a few glanced by security personnel, each of them shouldering their rifles, or hands placed loosely near their sidearms. International airport security was a part of the overview of the Rhodeve military, after all. Once they saw a simple pin on his lapel, as well as a governmental seal on his largest case, they calmed down completely. There were specific laws and regulations on who could carry those symbols.

The man himself wasn’t young in the slightest. With a semi-balding head and tufts and grey-white hair framing his otherwise dark brown hairline, he could pass as someone in their late-forties. Thanks to his physique, he also felt that age. Regardless, he was fifty-three as he entered into the terminal, on the cusp of fifty-four come autumn.
Picking up his ticket at the front desk, he left towards customs and security, not bothering to check-in his luggage. The attendant who had helped him looked on at the man, her eyes nervously glancing at the large case, and a finger hovering below the security-help button on the underside of her desk. While his interactions appeared to be normal, there was something in his eyes which reminded her of her time in the military.

The followed through the lines of people, separating into a separate line specifically for those with blue passports; the ones which denote long-time military or diplomatic service, or those currently within the military or diplomacy services. He received a few odd looks from the others in that line. For one, most were younger than he was, between the ages of nineteen and thirty. For another, each carried a sidearm with them. On-duty or semi-duty personnel all carried a weapon of some sort. Two grunts had their rifles slung over their shoulders with a visible orange cap placed on the end to signify that they were not on active duty. A few more had pistols hung at their waist, with one having their firearm hung on a chest-strap. The man didn’t recognize that method of carrying, but it had also been a few decades since he was a grunt.

The line moved steadily as each person handed security their passport, military identification, ticket, and any carry-ons to the security and baggage scanner. They handed their firearms to a soldier on-duty and made their way through the metal detectors without problem.

It was the man’s turn. He unslung his duffle bag and dropped it haphazardly onto the scanner, letting it be taken in by the conveyor belt. Following, he gently placed down his heavy-duty case. Passport, military discharge papers, and ticket, and he was through the metal detector. It blared to life. He glanced at the guard and lifted up the leg of his trousers. Underneath was a metal prosthetic.

The guard nodded and the man waited for his bags to make it through.

Just as he expected, the guard checking over the luggage grimaced at seeing what was in the case, and pulled it to the side for a more in-depth inspection.

“Can we please do this in a separate room?” The man asked kindly.

The guard’s eyes flicked to the soldier on duty and back before agreeing to the request. With that, the man was taken to a private room, followed by the soldier, guard and a third of higher rank that he had not seen before.

“We will need you to open up the case,” the ranking officer commanded.

The man nodded and got to work. Two different keys of each lock; one key on his keychain, another on a necklace around his neck. The 14-digit code, the exact numbers blocked from view with his body. With a hiss and click, the lock opened. The soldier’s hands twitched on his gun.

Moving slowly, the man opened the case, letting the three look at its contents.

It was a disassembled rifle. A large one. The rifle’s body was the entire length of the case, barring a few inches of protective foam, with its massive barrel, scope, stability legs, and shoulder-guard all placed delicately at other angles. Below the body, in neat little rows, were individual bullets. Each the size of the man’s index finger.

“Do you have a reason to bring along a heavily regulated weapon?”

The man nodded. “It’s for a project.”

A ‘project’. Military slang for both a heavily-classified mission under direct authority of the general or monarch, or an unauthorized mission that was to be so foolhardy that the general or monarch would laugh at its mere carrying out.

The officer nodded slowly, taking in the man’s words. “Can I see your paperwork?”

The man reach into the case’s cover, opening up a zipper and pulling out a few papers, all stapled together. In the corner of each document was a golden eagle, similar to that on the Rhodeve flag, all featured as a watermark. The officer flipped through the pages; none of the others breaking the silence in the room.

“You’re on your way to The Bohin?”

The man nodded.

“There’s said to be a war going on.”

“Not just yet,” the man shrugged. “Its purely minor skirmishes for now.”

“Uh huh,” the officer tongued his cheek before handing back the documentation. Be pulled out a folded paper from his pocket and signed his name to it.

“Pass this to whichever security is holding you.”

The man thanked him and returned the officer’s salute. Then, as if that minor interrogation hadn’t happened, went on his way, carrying his two bags of luggage with him through the rest of the airport security and onto the plane bound for The Bohin.

Back in the airport, the soldier on-duty looked to his commanding officer. “Who was that?”

Even an airport grunt knew that sniper rifles of any size were illegal to be taken on airplanes, even by on-duty military.
The officer sighed, “someone we both should just forget about.”

“What did the paperwork say? I know he’s a discharged soldier, said so in his papers.”

“Remember this moment kid, even while I’m ordering you to forget the details.” The soldier nodded in confusion. “There’s some groups the regular civvies don’t know much about. Hell, there’s some groups that even the red and blues don’t know about. Then there’s the groups that pretty much everyone knows about but don’t talk about. Most of ‘em ain’t that old. That should tell you something.”

The officer saluted the soldier, letting his return to his station and continue with his otherwise boring work. The officer for his part, returned to his office and sat at his desk, leaning his forehead on the palms of his hands.

Sergeant Major Taylors. Damn, that was the Sergeant Major himself. What a great story this would have been to share with his drinking buds.

He looked at his wall, where a large map of the world was hanging, fixed with destination airports for planes from this one. Just one location in The Bohin; Sugmei City, their capital.

“Give ‘em hell.”

The man sat in his seat near the back half of the plane. He had purchased the seat beside him, to place both articles of luggage. Not that it mattered much. A third of the plane was empty. Those that were on it, were almost universally of Bohi descent. There would only be so much time before travel between the countries was cut off. Now was the last time to find relatives and take them back to the safety of Rhodevus.

The man smiled at a small child who was looking at him from the seat ahead. He gave the child a small wave, leading to the kid blushing and quickly returning to facing the correct way in his seat.
That was fine with him.

He leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes in preparation for the multi-hour direct flight. It would be quite some time before they arrived, and the man wanted to be in good form come landing.

After all, he had a project ahead of him.

[Rhodevus]

The Bench
2012

His leg was sore from overuse. That isn’t to say he was physically strained or drained, only that his leg could no longer handle the rigour that his body and mind were long used to. The man took a seat on a simple metal bench, leaning his cane against the armrest. It was one of the few old-style metal-grate benches within the Richard Weivar Memorial Cemetery. The rest had long been replaced with the newer, homeless-friendly designs that dear old Richard would have loved.

Nathanial Timmel rubbed at his leg. It had been some ought-twenty eight years since he received this injury while overseas in The Bohin, and yet his leg still was causing him issues. It may also be his age at this point, now that he was in his mid-60s. But, he was spry, went on daily walks, and ate healthy. At least healthy enough to not get a talking to by both his daughter and his daughter-in-all-but-name. How Zaira and Diana met and bonded, he could never forget.

The sun was rising in the sky, and there was a pleasant breeze which spoke of warmer afternoons. It was the height of summer after all. Flowers littered the cemetery. Some were planted, all perennials just as Diana wanted, while others were placed in front of the litany of graves. It was a war cemetery, filled with gravestones of different shapes, all filled with those who died only a handful of years previously. The James’ Wars; a series of conflicts which some might have called a minor civil war, had left torn families in its wake. This cemetery was for those who fought, as well as those who lived, through those times.

Nathanial glanced up at the statue at the center of the cemetery. The eponymous Richard Weivar himself.

“How ya doin’ you old rascal?” the man said.

The statue said nothing in reply, only staring out over his charges of graves and those who tended them.

“Dee is driving me up the wall,” he chuckled, leaning back on the seat, settling in for a longer break. “She asked me last night if it was right for her to butt in on a meeting of the generals. Her! I tried to hold it in, but I remember when the two of us served her father. Benner was popping into meetings left and right, without so much as a ‘how do ya do?’ Had to tell her that even her brother, may he rest in hell, attended his fair share of meetings. Despite the lack of actual rank and record to do so. Dee said she’d get to work closing down that loophole. Completely forgot about the meeting after that, more focused on the new law draft she was planning to close this and some dozen other loopholes she found that past week.”

Nathanial sighed.

“That girl just doesn’t stop. Still blames herself for your death, ya know.”

The flowers shifted in the breeze, wafting off their pleasant and calming smells of lavender, sage, and yarrow.

“I tell her she needs to calm down, choose an heir to share in her workload, but who knows when that’ll be?”
His eyes closed and he leaned his head back, letting pleasant cracks and tingles run down his neck. He knew it wasn’t good for him, but he was 66 years old. He was allowed a few bad habits.

“I saw your son, George. I can’t believe he’s already eight. What a sweet young boy. Was just passing him by while Diana was taking him on a walk around her house.” Nathanial chuckled. “The Imperial Palace is some house for an 8 year old. I think the kid was more fascinated by the big tv screens which were showing pictures of dinosaurs that he was about the priceless artifacts and paintings. Not that I could blame him. It was dinosaur week at the Kingstown museum and Diana lost a bet with the museum’s curator. What a wily girl your god-daughter is. Loves your son to tears.”

Nathanial was silent, letting the sounds of nature fill his mind’s eye. He enjoyed times like this. It wasn’t so often he had enough time to have a full conversation with this longtime friend.

“Zaira and Diana almost got into trouble on national television recently. I bet Dee already told you all about it, but I cannot fathom how the two can rile each other up so much. Zaira is in her late 30s, and Diana is 31. And yet they still act like children while together. God bless them. Neither had a good childhood, so I’m glad they could find their youth still, but can they not do it so publicly. It’s a boon that Diana is so loved and popular by the people that her on-air bickering about the merits of motorcycles on a woman’s ‘coolness factor’ didn’t cause a bigger fuss.”

That was an interesting showing. A local late-night talk show guest starred the queen and the Strategic Officer was supposed to be an easy discussion regarding their military service background, and just answering some general questions regarding their likes and dislikes. It was great for Diana to show herself as a real person with interests outside of leading the country, and Zaira, who tended to have a lower reputation amongst the people who knew her tense history, would get a bit of an uptick in support due to her closeness to the queen.

Of course, someone had to ask what Diana thought about Zaira’s motorcycle, and with the egging on by the host, the two descended into a spat of sisterly bickering. Zaira, of course, erred on the side of the machine making her much cooler, smoother, and better at picking up both men and women. Diana found them to be loud, annoying, and a potential hazard to ones health due to an increasing trend in riders without helmets.

The two agreed to disagree in the end, as they usually did, but the host proclaimed that to be his best show ever. Even some local motorcycle brands got in on the fun, offering Diana with motorcycle lessons and a new ad to promote helmet wearing for motorcyclists. Zaira’s online post of Diana leaning against the back of her motorcycle did manage to accumulate some 38 thousand shares and likes already, many declaring that motorcycles did in fact make the queen ‘look cooler’.

“I’m doing fine. The health is still fairly decent; you know how it is. Battlefield injuries never truly leave you, ya? Still making the time to visit the family. Ari is still doing fine. Says he’s only a few more years from retirement, but I know he’ll never give up his job at the bank. Loves it too much. And Marissa… Well, she’s still buried at Center Square. I’m planning on visiting her on tomorrow’s walk.”

Nathanial let himself lean forward. The cemetery was starting to fill with more people. Some were visiting particular graves, while others were walking through the headstones and flowers. It was a perfectly suitable walking path, just as it was designed to be.
“We all miss you, Richard. Nothing’s been quite the same since you- since your death. Diana is quieter than she was as a teen. George is still a happy child, but one who should be having his father. Even I’m missing you. For a young man you were a better lord general than I ever was. And you just had to be the best at it, then leave us after only a year of duty.”

Nathanial sighed once more.

“I guess, we all leave some time. Eventually, we are all called to those pearly gates; you just happened to do so earlier than any of us woulda liked. Good talking to you Richard. Until next time.”

And with that, after sharing his day with the fallen Richard Weivar, once general of the armed forces, leader, and hero of the James Wars, Nathanial Timmel, the current high general and brother in arms, stood up and continued his slow walk. His back hunched further and his leg was a little stiffer than they once did in his youth, but he walked ahead strong and proudly into the future.
His Diana and Zaira would long be at the front and center to the nation, and he would do what any father and father-figure would do to straighten them out and make sure they left a country greater and freer than any else could.

He looked back at the bench he had sat on, the one he had donated to the cemetery himself upon its construction, and then at the statue of Richard. Yes, it was a pleasant day for a walk.

[Rhodevus]

Heir
November 2014

The building was busy. That was the first thing that Sierra noticed. Men and women in suits and dresses fluttering about the lobby, on their phones, or carrying briefcases, or writing in notepads. There were soldiers; members of the royal guard with their pristine red uniforms and black pants, standing at attention at various corners of the room, and one at the elevator. Their guns were held stiffly, and were no doubt loaded and ready to be expertly used.

One glanced at her. A double-take as if noticing who she was for the first time. Sierra sighed, and nodded politely at him. He blinked a few times, lightly stamped a foot in a minor salute, and then returned to his steadfast guarding. It wasn’t the first time she was recognized by a soldier, and she doubted it would be the last.

Even if she was there in a suit rather than her usual military garb. She ran her palms over the maroon skirt which made up the lower half of her skirt-suit combo. She was sweating, the nerves getting to her in a way that being shot on, on the battlefield never did. She hoped she was dressed properly.

Christina said it was professional and ‘chic’, whatever that meant. She hoped it was formal enough.

One never knew what to expect when sitting down for a one-on-one meeting with the queen of your country.

Once more, the sheer business of the room pulled her attention. She was within the Imperial Palace Complex, and the Imperial Palace itself, and yet it felt more like a combination museum and office building than the royal home to the monarch of Rhodevus.
Well, it was all of the above in a way, with only the upper floors being cordoned off for the queen’s personal use, and the rest, including the lower floors used as museums and office for government management.

A tour group with a few dozen children passed by, the many children glancing around in both amazement and boredom. There were some interesting paintings and plaques, featuring everything from flags to busts of previous monarchs, to paintings that were older than the kingdom itself. Yet, the more interesting stuff where in the other rooms. Nobody wanted to overcrowd the entranceway in case of emergency.

“Miss Abrams?” Came a woman’s voice, pulling Sierra from her musings.

“Hmm?” Sierra eloquently replied, cringing in on herself at the same time.

The woman smiled, fixing the glances that were resting on her nose. She was also wearing a skirt-suit combination similar to Sierra’ albeit in a light grey. Her blouse was a pristine white, unbuttoned at the top, and a necklace with a trans pride pendant resting between her ample cleavage. Not that Sierra was looking over course.

“I’m Anne Marroway, Diana’s personal assistant.” Anne seemed to perpetually smile as she spoke; it was quite lovely. A firm handshake was shared, and the assistant began to lead her away from the lobby further into the palace.

“Has Diana informed you about what you are here to discuss?”

Sierra shook her head. “No she did not. Queen Diana was very… terse within her email. Just the time and place to arrive, dress in business formal, and to have an up to date resume with me.”

Anne snorted. “Yes, Diana does seem to type like a robot. You should see her texts. No spelling mistakes or acronyms. Grammar is perfect every time. She is very much not like that in person; especially in informal settings, but she cannot seem to include any emotion in her texts and emails.”

Sierra laughed. “Should you be telling me all this? Feels quite personal.”

“If this goes the way that I think it will, you will be involved in a lot more personal matters than just her texting methods.”

Sierra froze. What was this meeting even for? She hard heard about James’s… peculiarities. No, not peculiarities. Queen Diana’s brother, the now (thankfully) deceased Prince James had a taste for brutality and inflicting of pain in intimate situations. And very
much not in a way that was receptive by his companions.

Was the queen like that as well?

“Oh, it seems like I have stumbled over myself quite spectacularly, dear.” Anne said, a hand to her lips and eyebrows curved in apology. “This is a job interview, dear. One in which may see you in a position where you will work quite closely with the queen in an official capacity.”

A sigh of relief.

“Alright. Care to share anything more about this supposed job interview? I know I applied for a transfer to a less combat oriented role within the military, but I don’t quite see why the queen is handling this interview. I’ve already gone through a few interviews with senators and military officials.”

A twinkle in Anne’s eye did not alleviate her confusion.

“You shall see, my dear. You shall see.”

They walked from the lobby into a smaller side room that was filled with historical paintings of famous battles, and then into another smaller corridor with a few pictures of famous landmarks across the kingdom. There was a small elevator with a passcode. Anne typed in the at least 15-digit code before the elevator light dinged and let them in. There were three buttons. Basement, Ground, and Level 4. So, they went up to level four.

Unlike the ground floor, fourth floor looked much more homely. Still very pristine and proper, but it was much more of a lived space than a business one.

“Though here, Miss Abrams,” Anne Marroway said, opening a hidden wood panel door.

Sierra stepped through, and Anne wished her a good luck before shutting the door behind.

The room that Sierra was let into was small. Dark wood flooring, a small chandelier to light up the room, and a round table in the middle that was too small for a shared meal. The two chairs were angled towards a wall where a flat screen television hung.

On the opposite side there was a door. Rather than check if it was locked, Sierra took a seat in one of the two seats and pulled out her resume from her inner jacket pocket. Shuffling the papers, she let her foot bounce to ease the tension coursing through her.

There was a knock on the door and then a jiggle of the handle.

“I apologize for being late, the tea was taking longer to prepare than I expected.” In walked the reigning queen of the United Sovereign Kingdoms of Rhodevus. The most powerful woman; most powerful person within the country and possibly even the hemisphere.

Queen Diana Wolff was a lot shorter in person than Sierra had expected.

She wore a nice dress, a deep blue that shined nicely against her brown eyes and olive complexion, as well as small earrings and a necklace around her neck. She carried a small tray with her; a teapot and two cups on it.

“I wasn’t sure what tea you liked, so I went with mint, seeing as its my personal favourite. Is that suitable? I also have lemon, black, and green if you would prefer another.”

“Umm, mint is fine?” It came out more as a question than the statement she was hoping for.

The queen did not seem put off in the slightest, putting down the tray and filling up the two cups with tea, handing one to Sierra.

“Oh!” Sierra immediately stood up, and then bowed. “My apologies for not bowing immediately, your majesty.”

“Oh, hush now.” The queen brushed it off with a wave. “You need only be formal with me in formal situations. When we are not in front of the press or at formal events, please, I prefer Diana.”

The queen… Diana was a lot less stiff than their brief, earlier meetings would have her believe.

“We spoke during Miss Christina Everen’s knighting ceremony, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am. Er, Diana.” The glare from the woman had Sierra quickly changing her response.

“And you refused to be knighted as well.”

“I did.”

“Why?” Diana’s voice was clear and deadly serious, despite the casual tone. Sierra knew deep in her gut that the interview had started and that everything she said mattered. To what end, was unclear. But when the queen asked a question, it was her duty to answer. And answer honestly she did.

“I had lost the majority of my squad-mates, my closest friends. I did not deserve a knighthood for failing in my mission to protect them, even if what we accomplished was good for the nation.”

“Hmm,” Diana hummed, taking a delicate sip of tea. “And you refused a knighthood again after saving six hostages from a Brotherhood platoon, and helping them survive for a week within the Great Yztal Forest before help could arrive?”

“I did. My mission was to rescue the eight trapped hostages. I failed that mission as well.”

“Why do you consider it a failure? Six hostages is good, no?”

“Eight hostages rescued is good. Any less are loves lost. I was fortunate enough to rescue six, but two are dead because of me. I will never forget that they lost their lives because of me. That, is why it was a failure. Ma’am.”

Diana was silent for a moment, staring at her with a piercing gaze that made Sierra feel she was revealing her deepest emotions and thoughts.

“You brought your resume with you?” Diana said, the non-sequitur breaking Sierra’s thought pattern.

“Umm, yes.” She handed the pages over. Two pages.

“Commonwealth airforce since you were 17. Pilots license and pilot training license for a number of planes that I didn’t even realize we had in our arsenal,” right. The queen was also the leader of the Commonwealth as well. “second in command of the Princess Squadron, and then command following the death of Commander ‘Vice-Admiral’ Suevani Rihaz.”

Sierra flinched at the mention of her commander’s name. She was a brilliant pilot and leader. And a good and close friend.

“Afterwards, you left the airforce and joined the army. Plenty of distinguished medals and awards. Given the title of ‘Luka’, plenty of top-secret missions that you properly chose to not include on her resume. Good. Turned down a knighthood a third time for your role in stopping the Amberg Incident. Another supposed failed mission? I thought so. And then you left to get a degree. Apologies, a dual degree in history and international relations. Both fo which you are on track to receiving in the next year?”

“Yes, I am. Ma’am. Diana. Ma’am.”

Diana smiled into her sigh. “I guess I will need t be used to you calling me ma’am for now. At least until you get used to me. Unlike my father, I’m not one for titles. I prefer Diana when in less formal positions. And yes, while I am well aware than an interview situation is a formal occasion, I do not believe that this particular one needs to be.”

“About that, ma’am.” Sierra said, straightening herself out on her seat, shifting to face Diana fully. “What exactly am I interviewing for?”

Diana’s eyes sparkled. Her left hand fell over her right. The missing top knuckles of hr pink and middle finger were clearly visible. “I am interviewing for my replacement.”

Sierra choked on her tea, coughing at the unexpected answer. “Your replacement?!”

“Not immediately, I assure you.” She chuckled lightly. “Were you not curious why you were interviewing with so many politicians and military officials?”

“Well, I have been looking for a new posting.”

“And this is one I hope you will accept. Miss Sierra Abrams. You are brilliant in the face of danger, loyal to a fault, and can see anything less than perfection and the safety of all within your care as a failure of your duty. As can be seen by your three knighthood refusals. Similarly, all those I have spoken to about you have nothing but praise for you. I spoke with Princess Christina Everen of Rezua, your close friend, and she was nothing but kind words. You have already been voted on and approved. This interview is the final step.”

“Final step for what exactly?”

Diana smirked. Her eyes returning to the resume in front of her. “Now, Sierra. If you were queen of Rhodevus, what policy would you want to implement?”

Another almost non-sequitur. Sierra’s heart was pounding. Was this what she thought it was?

“I, um. I-”

“Take your time, Miss Abrams. This is a very difficult question.”

Sierra let herself inhale a deep breath, slowly letting it out to center herself. “I would end universal conscription.”

“Interesting. Please explain.”

“Well, Rhodevus is a large country. Larger than it was in the 40s when conscription was introduced. We just don’t have enough positions for everyone to fill. That leads plenty of positions they did not want, delaying their careers without meaning, and wasting billions of Rhodes that could go elsewhere.”

“And what of our society’s structure? Conscription is how most pay for universities.”

“That money can be given to them directly. A universal college fund, or universal fund for every person who graduates high school, or reaches the age of 18. I am unsure yet. But, let the positions be volunteer like other countries. We would not even need to reduce the size of the military, or the diplomacy branch. People still want to join. These are insanely good positions to have that present very well on resumes and to future schools or job situations. Keep everything else in place too. Gun control is already limited to those who are within the armed forces or some levels of the diplomatic branch. Keep that in place so only people who were already rigorously examined and training can handle guns. Positions that require service can still do so. Make it a point of pride so that those who want positions have to at least go through the steps to handle it.”

“Will this not limit who can enter these positions? Say a senator. Time within the diplomatic or military branch is required for a position.”

“I’m not too sure there either. But, it can be workshopped. Senators can be required to have time within other positions in the government then. Or something of that nature. But, in the end, conscription will be eliminated. It frees up time and talent of Rhodevus’s young. It removes the social stigma around Rhodevus as a military stronghold. And it also will save the government money. Win-win-win.”

Diana nodded slowly. “Interesting.”

Sierra looked down at her hands in her lap. She did not think the queen liked her idea.

“Miss Abrams.” She looked up at the queen.

“Did you know that I have been wanting to reduce and remove conscription since I took the throne?”

That was a shock. Sierra shook her head.

“It is a well thought out idea. There is still much to be discussed in your proposal and like you alluded to, Rhodeve society is heavily structured around its military and conscription. But it is something that you and I can agree with.”

Diana looked Sierra over one more time, then nodded.

She stood up. Sierra followed suite.

“Sierra Abrams. I am honoured, as the Queen of the United Sovereign Kingdoms of Rhodevus and the Imperial City of Rhode, to offer you the position of Héritier Potentiel. The Potential Heir to these kingdoms. Would you like to become my successor, and accept the title of Princess Heir Sierra Abrams?”

Sierra looked at the queen. Her voice stoic and body poised. The very picture of monarchy.

She felt gangly and uncoordinated in the face of her precision. She took in a deep breath.

This could mean so much. It could mean everything. It was a position of so much importance. She would finally be out of the military like she always dreamed, and yet still able to do so much good for her country and her people. But it was so much responsibility. She felt like she could and would crack under all that weight and pressure. Could someone like her be worth taking the high throne?

She did not know.

She did not deserve the position.

“No.”

Diana smiled. “Good answer.”

“Huh?”

“Any who said yes immediately, I never would have accepted as my successor. One who wants the throne should not be granted it. My brother taught me that.”

Both of their focus was pulled to her removed knuckles.

“But I don’t think I can take the position.”

“Is it because you don’t believe you are qualified? Or suited to the role?”

“I’m a military brat, ma’am. Never been anything else. I ran away from home because I couldn’t handle the stress and pressure my parents put me through. Then I ran from the air force because I couldn’t handle the attention. And now I’m running from the army because I can’t handle the stress there either. What good is someone who runs away?”

“I don’t believe you have ever run away, Miss Abrams.” Diana’s lips curled into a roguish smile. “You left at 16 to Eubatu to help build homes. Then you joined the airforce to remain outside of the influence of those who would control you. Then you succeeded so strongly within the airforce, you left and returned to a lower position because you believe that you should start from the bottom, despite your years of previous military experience. And now you are looking for something else. Something greater. Something where you can help others that does not involve carrying a gun. Is that correct?”

“I guess… Yes, ma’am.”

“You are not a scared woman. You have never run from danger. You have run to protect others, and yourself. You have lead man people into battle and hold life sacred above all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You are intelligent. You are young and wise. And you have a knack for seeing the big picture. No, that was not a question for you to answer. Sierra Abrams. I ask you again. Would you like to be my heir?”

“I… I…”

“I will not force you further. This is a hard job and will not get any easier over your lifetime. You can quit at any point, or be relieved of duty should you not fit. But it is your choice above all. What say you.”

Sierra closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, she could feel the fire pooling in her belly and the stone within her eyes.

“I say, yes.”

[Rhodevus]

Hunt, Part 2

Amaia sat on her beaded mat, alone save for the flickering of the fire, and dancing of the shadow. Her belly grumbled from a day without food.

It was to be her day of marriage. An early morning rise, followed by a day of the Hunt, to which the betrothed would share their first bites of the day as a couple joined in spirit. But alas, it was not to be. She had struck a creature of Taharei, while he had fished a creature of Ohtawa. A Golden Eagle as big as she was, and a Yellow-Pyker as tall as he. Were the bird of a different breed, or fish of a different stock, the two would be wed before their entire village.

There would have been a festival with dancing and singing, flame walking and Tanto training.

Yet there she was, clad in her hunting clothes from the early morning, smelling of gooseberry and parsley and smoke, alone to pray to the spirits as to her path.

Mokan was in his own tent, that she knew.

She longed to see him again. To speak to him and ask why he chose a Yellow-Pyker above all else. To cry in his arms and beg the spirits together to sanctify their marriage.

But a God-Spirit’s judgement reigns eternal.

The Unspoken One’s above all others.

“You cried out to me,” she cried into her arms. “You who called for me, not once, but twice. You let me bring you down with but a single arrow. A perfect shot that many skilled hunter would be proud to miss. Yet you let my bow strike quick, and my arrow strike true. Please, oh mysterious of the great spirits. Please hear my cries and beckon to tell me my path.”

There was no voice in the flames. No whispers in the dark, nor cry of any creature.

Taharei was the Unspoken One, who could not speak.

And Amaia was alone.

She prayed to the spirits through the entire night. There was no rest in her eyes when she left the tent that morning. The greatest of the spirits did not answer her plea.

The Elder’s tent straight ahead was not the comforting sight it usually was, nor the exciting memory of the previous day.

“What say the spirits?” The elder said, feet crossed on her own mat, and eyes staring into the white-smoke of the fire before her.

“Have they revealed your path?”

Amaia bowed her head low. “No, Elder. They do not speak. Not a sound, not a sight, not even a thought.”

The elder hummed, swirling her fingers through the flames. “It is expected. The Unspoken One remains silent to the Twice Called.”

“Twice Called?” Amaia asked, her previous worries gone, but for a moment of peace.

“Indeed.” The elder nodded. She closed her eyes, letting the presence of the spirits into her lungs with each breath. “You, Amaia who rides Windbreaker, have been called to twice by Taharei’s chosen creature. He has a destiny for you. A path that may be vastly different than the one once expected of you. To be Called to once is the sign of potential. Elders,” she gestured to herself, “chieftains,” she gestured towards where the chieftain’s tent was, “and shamans,” she gestured to her heart, where a tattoo of her Twin-Spirit wife resided. “It is not often that Taharei must Call for one Twice. And so, you, Amaia, the rider of Windbreaker the Tanto, are now the Twice Called.”

“Please, Elder. Tell me my destiny.”

“I know not what the spirits seek for you. The flames and the smoke do not tell your story. It is… odd.” Her voice slowed as her eyes opened, piercing Amaia with her steady gaze. “Leave this tent and return to your own. You must fast on this. I shall speak with Mokan to know his mind and what the spirits deem for him. And then we shall hold a meeting of the tribe.”

“Can I see Windbreaker?”

“Return to your tent. Your Tanto is not your own during these times of great change.”

Amaia rose and said no more.

Her tent was small compared to the others of her ilk. Tanto-Riders were well respected within their tribe. They were the people of the Tanto, and the great beasts were respected above all others.

When she bonded with her Tanto, she named it Windbreaker, for the winds came to a complete stop once their eyes met and they were joined as rider and mount for the first time. She was but nine years old at the time.

When she reached the age of a true rider, she chose her own tent to be smaller than the others. She was always a Tanto-Rider, but she longed to form a family, and share a tent with her betrothed. Mokan was a Caregiver, just as he was a warrior. A perfect match for her. They had discussed raising children and if they should be granted the honour of riding Tantos. They discussed placement of firewood within their shared tent, of how to soften the ground to lay on, and smooth the reeds which made up the tent’s curved ceiling.

Their life had been decided. Save for their Hunt.

Amaia wanted to cry for her destiny. It was not what she had dreamed of. But once cannot shirk their duty. Amaia was never one to do that.

Rather than continue to wallow or pray, she put together a bag. A full waterskin and an extra three that were empty. A clay bowl for eating and a pot for cooking. Dried leaves to be used both for cooking and healing when on a long journey. Her riding mat was rolled up tight and bound to the bag’s bottom, and her beads were fastened tightly around it all. She tied the bag to her short spear, laying it down on the ground, next to the tent’s entrance.

It was her usual riding preparation.

She did not plan on going anywhere, and yet it calmed her to know that should be be destined to leave, she was well prepared for her journey.

A loud drumbeat echoed through her.

The meeting was to begin. With one last look into the fire, she doused the flames with dirt, and left towards the elder’s tent once more.

The tent was by far the largest in the village, and for this very reason. It could fit each and every member of the village, alongside dozens of others from nearby tribal villages.

It was a Tribal Meeting. Not to be confused with a Meeting of the Tribes; wherein the chieftains, elders, and shamans from across the People of the Tanto met to discuss meetings of movement or war.

A Tribal Meeting was a meeting of the entire tribe. Every man, woman, child and those of the Twin-Spirit all sat within a single tent.

It would be the last time her eyes gazed upon Mokan.

The Elder sat at the front of the room, and the chieftain at the back. Mokan sat to the right of the chieftain, and she to the right of the Elder. This meeting was about them, after all.

“Amaia,” the chieftain called out, his voice ringing through the tent, silencing all speech and beating of the drums. “What do the spirits say of your trials ahead.”

Amaia could not raise her eyes from the earth below her crossed feet.

“Nothing, chieftain. The spirits do not speak a word to me. Not in song, nor deed, nor whisper, nor breath.”

There were some murmurs.

“And of you, Mokan?”

Mokan’s eyes were on Amaia. His lips steadfast and serious, his back straight and taut. In his hands, he placed down a simple seed.

“It is what I found beneath my resting mat.”

The chieftain raised it to the light of the fire. “A seed. A child of Meiana Weillo .”

“Can you be sure?” The Elder gasped.

“As best as I can. We are within a league of the Kho’hitn. Other children of Redento Vihas do not live this far from the great groves.
No, it can only be Her.”

More murmuring. Still, Amaia did not raise her head.

“That is Taharei calling to Amaia twice, Ohtawa providing His bounty to Mokan, and now Redeto Vihas issuing a challenge to Mokan. Does Kahala speak to us?” Rather than ask the Elder, his eyes turned to her wife. The shaman nodded and rose from her seat, removing her garments and placing them where she had sat.

Without a word, she left the tent and walked out into the dark night.

The silence within the tent was eerie, for the number of people present. Over eighty souls sat within, and yet the crackling of the fire was heard loudest of all.

Amaia breathed deep, finally let her sight lift from the cold stone ground to Mokan’s own.

“I shall leave,” she whispered. Yet still her words carried.

“She shall leave!” The shaman called, her nakedness covered in blood. The knife in her hand was shaking. “The moon is shining bright. It is a night of a half moon, and yet it’s reflection gleams on the ocean clear for all to see. Kahala speaks. A clear reflection of herself, warns of a woman. It is she who must leave. Her path is not here with the People of the Tanto, but under the gaze of
Kahala and silence of Taharei.”

“Then it is decided! Amaia is banished. Her Tanto shall die.”

“No!” Amaia screamed, rising to her feet. “I already spoke that I shall leave. You cannot have my Windbreaker. For she and I are one and shall remain one!”

“It is our way, Amaia, rider of Windbreaker-”

“Nay. You call me Amaia, rider of Windbreaker in the same breath you speak of ending her life. So I say to you. Chieftain, shaman, Elder. The spirits have deemed I may not tie my fate to this man whom I was betrothed, but I have been tied to my Tanto for years. So, I say nay. You shall not have her. She and I are one. Amaia and Windbreaker.”

The chieftain rose, signalling for his guard. It would not do for one to declare his rules invalid before a Tribal Meeting. “You shall heed my instructions Amaia. Or you shall be put to death.”

“Nay. Amaia Windbreaker, the Twice Called.” Amaia spoke back, just as fierce.

She fled before others could fall upon her.

Back to her tent to grab her things, already together for travel.

And then to her Tanto, where Windbreaker had managed to free herself from her reigns, and was whinnying nervously. Agitated by the shared bond between the two.

In the night of the half moon, where the wind did not even rustle the waves of the ocean, and while men of the Tanto tribe banded together with their weapons to kill a Tanto, Amaia fled.

It would not be the end of her story, nay, just the beginning. Amaia Windbreaker was destined for greatness.

Taharei called to her twice, the Twice Called.
Kahala sang to her in the light of the moon, the Calm Night.

Redento Vihas granted a seed of the Kho’hitn to her once betrothed, knowing that it is a woman who bears the seed and so all words of hers are to women and women alone, One of Meiana Weillo.

Ohtawa issued his warning to her with a Yellow-Pyker out of season, The Land Bound.

Amaia Windbreaker rode far into that night, not knowing which way lay before her, only that a destiny not of her own choosing had been commanded of her.

[Rhodevus]

Nomad, Part 1
Hunt, Part 3

The heat of the summer sun was unbearable. It had been near four days since Amaia had run out of water, and neither she, nor Windbreaker could find a new source. No sounds of waterbirds filled the skies, and no trinkle of water rushing through streams filled their ears.

All around was only the grasslands and long drawn-out plains of her peoples. But these lands were not of her peoples. They were drier than she was used to. The People of the Tanto lived on the Great Grasses, shared with many other peoples of the land, but their home was next to the sprawling waters of Ohtawa.

Here, there was nothing but the Great Grasses for all her eyes could see.

She licked at her dry, cracking lips, hoping for any respite from the heat.

There were no trees, no clouds, no shade.

Just the endless beating down of the sun Kahala’s rays onto her back and head and shoulders. Windbreaker let out a whinny of exhaustion.

“Please be calm, my companion,” she whispered, shaking its mighty antlers. “We need but travel a moment farther. Just a moment. They we shall stop once more for a rest.”

A grumble of frustration, but Windbreaker pushed forward.

Amaia hopped of his back, giving her Tanto a lighter load, as she walked alongside him. One hand lay firmly on his reigns, another softly stroking the muscles of his front leg, just where he liked it. She knew that should her Tanto choose to abandon her, she would die.

“Almost there,” Amaia urged, each step feeling like a boulder carried on her back. Each movement sluggish. Every pebble an insurmountable obstacle to be moved around rather than over.

“Almost there, Windbreaker. We are close. So close,” her words were more a prayer than a fact.

There was nothing around them but the endless dried yellow grasses of the Great Grasses. The air was stale. Dry.

Her lips were so dry.

She licked them again, holding tighter to Windbreaker’s hair.

A dip in the dirt. No bigger than a thumb is tall, but enough to send Amaia stumbling over her legs and down onto the ground.

It had been much too long without water. No energy to hunt for days. No energy to scavenge for anything more than the easiest to acquire field roots.

Windbreaker whinnied in fright, stomping around at the sudden loss of contact of his rider. Upon seeing her on the ground, he lay next to the fallen body, nickering.

Yet Amaia did not move. Her body was too tired to do much of anything.

The noon day crested into night, and still Amaia did not move, and her Tanto remained there, next to her.

The stars illuminated the sky on a moonless night. Hundreds of constellations telling their own stories of bravery and of passed heroic deeds.

Fire surrounded Amaia’s prone body, flickering just as the stars did in the sky.

“What?” Amaia said, upon her wakening.

With no strength but to tilt her head, she saw the danger she was in.

Dozens of torches, shining bright with crackling flame. Hundreds of men, women, and children surrounded her. Many with spears and clubs. Fierce weapons alongside the muscles of those who wielded them.

One man stepped forward, body covered in red paint and markings she could not decipher.

He spoke in words that were near unintelligible to her. Then, the man tilted his head quizzically, as Windbreaker huffed, tilting his long antlers to the man.

“Caruu?” He said.

“Water,” Amaia gasped out, her lips cracked and throat soar.

“Ah, Tanto.” The man stabbed his spear into the ground, tip-first, before turning to the rest of his people. “This is one of the Tanto! She is to be cared for as a lady of the Great Grass Sea and respected as one of Ti-Jhong. Welcome, woman of Nuu-Chah-Nulth Tanto. Welcome woman of the People of the Tanto.”

Amaia would have responded if she could. Her eyes shut, and once more did she descend into dreams.

She woke in a hut made of animal hide. The air was thick and wet, so very unlike her last few days.

Beside her was a medicine woman, chanting in some unknown language, while feeding her driblets of water.

“Please,” Amaia whispered, breaking the woman’s chants. “Where is my Windbreaker?”

The woman spoke in a language that Amaia had not heard before. It was so much like her own, and yet indecipherable in other ways.

Her exhausted mind wanted to translate the words, but did not have the energy to.

The woman left and a moment later, she returned with the bare-chested red-painted man.

“Woman of the Tanto,” he said, his voice low and smooth, though clearly speaking in a language not his own. “I am Small Steps, Lead Walker of the Jhong-Ti, as we travel between the ancestral home of the mother, to the ancestral home of the sister.”

Small Steps, muttered something to the medicine woman, and she bowed and left.

“What are you called?”

Amaia tried to sit up, but still lacked the strength. “I am Amaia, Rider of Windbreaker.”

“I wish you well, Amaia Windbreaker. You are safe here in our travelling tents.”

“Where am I?”

Small Steps smiled, sitting down on the ground, cross-legged. With Amaia laying on a thick mat above a block of dried mud, the Lead Walker was looking up to her.

“You are in the Great Grass Seas. What your people call the Great Grasses. You collapsed in the Jhong-Ti. The land of hidden waters. We are the Nomadic Peoples of Jhong-Ti.”

“Thank you for letting me into your tent, and a place at your fire.” Amaia shot up, eyes wide. “Windbreaker! Please Lead Walker, where is my Windbreaker?”

Small Steps raised his hands. “Calm. Your Tanto is resting in the paddock alongside our dogs. Well, he is resting next to the paddock, as he is much too big.”

Amaia leaned heavily on Small Steps’ arms to help raise her into a seating position. Unlike the large huts that she was used to, the tents of the Jhong-Ti were tiny in comparison. Enough for maybe three people to lie side by side comfortably, and only enough room for the smallest of fires. The one in this tent was smaller than most, converted to spread clouds of water into the air like a thick foggy mist. Every breath she took brought in much needed water to her body that the dry air of the Great Grasses lacked.

“Do you speak languages other than that of the Tanto?”

Amaia nodded. “I speak with the words of Tanduk, and have been learning phrases of the most common of the Setan. For when our peoples venture into battle.”

“Ah, our people do not follow the laws of Tanduk as so many of you southerners. We follow the words of the Four Woman. The Mother, the Sister, the Wife, and the Daughter.”

“I do not know of those spirits.”

“They are not spirits,” Small Steps grinned. “They are places. We who travel the Jhong-Ti must rest on occasion. During the depths of winter, we rest in the arms of the Wife. In the false spring, we settle with the Mother. In the heat of summer, we play alongside the Sister. And in the waning days, we journey to spend time with the Daughter. The cycle repeats forever. And so, we journey.

“Come, let us leave this tent and introduce yourself to my people.”

“Yes, let us go.”

[Rhodevus]

Nomad, Part 2
Hunt, Part 4

Small Steps held tightly to Amaia’s waist, as she clung to his should for support. Each step was difficult for her, and despite the hours of unconsciousness, and the bladder full of water she guzzled down, she still felt exhaustion and thirst creeping through her.

It was light out; the early morning saw the nomadic Jhong-Ti peoples pulling down their tents and preparing for another full day of travel. As soon as

Small Steps stepped out of the healer’s tent, people slowed their work, their attention pulled to their Lead Walker.

“My fellow People of the Hidden Water! My people of Jhong-Ti! With me is Amaia Windbreaker of the Tanto Tribe,” he gestured to her with his free hand. The other dug into Amaia’s waist, all but carrying her as her legs gave out from exhaustion. Still, he looked on ahead, as if there was nothing amiss.

“Amaia has been saved by our peoples after many days traversing the Great Grass Sea. Let he be treated as a guest in our home. Drink of our waters, eat of our fibres, and dance at our fires.” The Lead Walker continued, receiving some nods from the onlookers. “It may come a time that we may treat her as one of our own.”

Amaia smiled a small smile, waving her hand in welcome. She turned to Small Steps so that he could translate her words, “thank you all for letting me rest in your home. I may be a guest, but as a true Tanto, I will endeavour to earn my place at your hearths, and learn from you so that I may contribute as an equal.”

Small Steps laughed upon finishing her translation. “And her first task as she travels with us to The Mother, is to be taught our language. She speaks the words of Tanto, and the words of Tanduk. One who speaks of these tongues can teach Amaia our ways.”

A young woman, roughly Amaia’s age stood up, a small baby at her hip. “I am of Tanduk and settled with my husband of Jhong-Ti. Let me teach the Tanto of her place with us, just as my husband taught me of mine.”

With a nod, the young woman was beckoned forward. She held out her open palms to Amaia, speaking in the words of Tanduk, and bringing a recognition of the language to her eyes. “Good tidings and be joyous in the lands of the Ko’hitn,” the woman began the formal welcome from Tanduk.

“I am Savar of the Magan, of the Magan Peoples from the Holy Lands of Tanduk. Here, I am called Yellow Blossom. Be well and welcome, Amaia of the Tanto.”

Amaia’s smile grew in full, reaching to her tired eyes. “Good tidings and be joyous in the lands of the Ko’hitn,” Amaia replied, the language falling naturally on her tongue as one who spoke with near perfect fluency. “I am Amaia, rider of Windbreaker, of the Tanto Tribe. The Twice Called. Thank you for welcoming me into the lands of your home and family.”

“Twice Called?” Savar questioned. “It is not often that the Unspoken One calls for one to action.”

Amaia could only shrug. “I know not what the heavens have in store for me. Only that my match was not accepted by the spirits, and so I am required to leave.”

“To serve.”

“Indeed.”

Savar remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then she turned her gaze to the Lead Walker. “I shall teach Amaia Windbreaker of our peoples.”

“Good, now let us return our guest to the healers so that she may rest and be ready to walk alongside the Jhong-Ti.”

Savar lifted Amaia's other arm over her shoulders, and helped to carry her back into the tent. As she lay down amid the steam, Small Steps took his leave. Savar placed down her baby at Amaia's side, and retrieved a bag of water, letting a small trickle descend into her lips. "Gaillo. Water. We are the People of Hidden Waters, and it is our duty to provide the fresh waters to those who travel within our Great Grass Sea. Just as my husband taught me, and I will teach to my son here, all life comes from water, and it is in water we shall return."

"What is your boy's name," Amaia said, licking at the dampness remaining on her lips.

Savar smiled. "He is unnamed in he way of the Jhong-Ti. Not until he takes his first steps will he be named. As you can see, walking is quite important to my husband's people," Savar giggled. "But, I and my husband call him Vro."

Slowly, Amaia brought her hand up, so that a finger could caress gently against he little boy's puffy cheek. "Hello little Vro. Thank you for allowing your mother some time to care and teach me. I will be in your debt."

Savar laughed heartily. "He may be but a babe, but he will make you regret putting any debt in his hands. He was born in winter, and having not yet even seen his second, is feisty enough as it is."

Amaia's hand dragged fondly across his cheek once more, Vro gurgling in he ways babies do. "I don't think I shall ever regret owing debts to this baby. Not when it may be many, many years for me to have my own."

"You wish to have children?" Savar questioned. "Not many who hear Taharei's call do."

"I have no wish to become a shaman or speaker," Amaia confirmed. "I was called by a golden eagle twice while on my wedding hunt. My sweet Mokan caught a yellow pyker out of season while I caught the golden eagle. We were not meant to be. But, that does not assuage my love for him, nor the family we had once planned for. Is this your first child?"

"My second. My first was with one in Tanduk who refused my refusal. She is protected by the Magan, while he has been burned to ash. Still I wished to be free of my past and so I journeyed to the Ko'hitn to find where I may rest, and then further to The Daughter, where I met my Bird Song. He taught me the ways of his people, and he even courted me in the ways of Tanduk. We married two winters previous, and I felt ready to try for a child. My little Vro is what became of our match. Bird Song knows of my fears and does not desire any more children than that which I feel comfortable granting him. He knows of my past and of little Kashi who must be seven winters now. He promised that when our people return to The Wife, we shall travel to Tanduk so he may meet my people, and so little Vro may be welcomed into the Magan." Savar's eyes were far off, before snapping back to reality. "And then we shall return to the Daughter to continue on our journey."

"I am gladdened you found love and joy with your Bird Song."

"As do I."

Aamaia waited a moment before speaking. "I once wished for eight children."

"Eight?!" Savar gasped out a laugh. One which Amaia reciprocated.

"Indeed. That was before I witnessed a birthing in truth. After, I settled for a much more reasonable five."

"And still five children living to adulthood is an incredible fortune."

Amaia shrugged her shoulders as best as she could when laying down, and having a baby leaning against her. "I have always dreamed of a big family to share my hearth with. That is a dream I will not be giving up."

"Good," Savar said. "The Jhong-Ti needs strong women who know their own truth within their hearts. Sleep, Amaia. Tomorrow I shall begin teaching you our language in earnest."

[Rhodevus]

Nomad, Part 3
Hunt, Part 5

“Fresh water.”

“Gaillo.”

“Putrid water.”

“Uthbeka.”

“Good. Flowing water.”

“Kumba.”

“Kumbar.”

“Kumbar.”

It had been two weeks since Amaia began learning the language of the Jhong-Ti, and it still felt like most of what she had learned were different words for water. In her natural tongue of the Tanto, there was one word for water. Yes, there were adjectives to attach to the kind of water, but to the Tanto, water was water.

Not so for the Jhong-Ti. Water was the lifeline of the Great Grass Sea. For all the vibrance of the flowing green grasses, finding fresh, drinkable water, was the difference between life and death. Aside from learning the language, she spent plenty of time looking at grass to tell where the nearest sources of water were located.

Her feet ached every night.

“You were given two strong legs and two strong feet,” Savar explained, helping to massage her ankles from the strain. “The Mother granted you these things to be used. And so you shall use them.”

Amaia groaned. “My Windbreaker is right there, in the paddock. Every day he walks beside me, carrying my things. He must miss me riding upon his back.”

Savar laughed. Vro giggled as well. This was a common argument between the both of them, having grown much closer in the days they had spent alongside one another. Vro climbed over Amaia’s back, to which Amaia flipped him over her shoulder, carefully pulling into a cradle in her arms. Vro laughed wildly, grabbing at her hair with chubby fingers.

“You are learning the language quickly,” Savar praised.

Amaia smiled. “The Elder often told us that those whom have learned more than language can gather more much easier.”

“It is a true saying,” Savar nodded. “I have heard much the same from the Holy Men.”

“I just wish my feet agreed with my mouth. I seem to be a much better rider than a walker.”

Savar laughed, shaking her head with amusement. “I was much the same when I first arrived. It takes months, before our feet grow used to the endless pace that the Jhong-Ti travel. I oft find myself with sore feet as well. It was worse when I was pregnant with little Vro.”

“They made you walk with Vro in your belly?”

“We are not obligated to walk. Those with child can remain in our ancestral homes. But, it is considered an honour and a sign of strength for one to traverse the Great Grass Sea while carrying a future walker. I walked with Vro between three ancestral homes; the Mother, the Sister, and gave birth in the Wife. Now, no one can say that I am not one of the Jhong-Ti, and fewer can say my Vro will not be a great walker.”

“It is remarkable. I plan to bear children in a village that does not care for walking as Jhong-Ti does.”

“I have been to many a tribe, and none can beat the Jhong-Ti in looks,” Savar smirked, before leaning in close. “It is all the walking.”

The two women laughed loudly.

There was a noise outside their tent.

“Kekarii! Kekarii!” A cry came out.

Amaia turned to Savar, who’s face had turned ashen. “Kekarii? What does that mean?”

“Kekarri. Raiders. Bandits.”

At once, Amaia sprang to her feet, handing Vro off to his mother, who clung to her vest.

“Stay inside, I will protect you and this encampment.”

“You must hide as well. Bird Song is out there with the other hunters and guardians. They will protect us.”

Amaia who had already moved to the edge of the tent, turned his head back to face her friend. “I am Amaia Windbreaker. The Tanto protect themselves.” As she left, Amaia let out an ear piercing shrill of a whistle.

Windbreaker came galloping towards her, whinnying fiercely. With deft experience from thousands of hours together, Amaia swung herself onto her mount’s back, using her legs to hold her steady even without a saddle blanket. “To battle!” She cried in her native tongue, rocketing forward as the flames of bandits circled the encampment.

There were dozens of raiders. More than Amaia had ever seen before. They carried torches and stone-tipped spears, swinging both at any who went too close. Some tents were one fire and both men and women ran to other tents for safety. A dozen or so men of the Jhong-Ti were fighting back, but the numbers were heavily skewed to their assailants.

With a light kick, Windbreaker rushed forward, barrelling through a raider, even as Amaia stole the spear from his hands.

“Hiyah!” Amaia shouted, spinning her spear and throwing it at another raider. He fell back as the weapon tore through his shoulder. Amaia stole his spear too.

“Amaia!” That was the cry of Small Steps, who had joined the men in their defence. “You are a guest and a woman. Please hide in the tents.”

Without giving a reply, Amaia thrust her spear into a raider, stealing his weapon and launching it into another, sending him off his feet.

“You Jhong-Ti may be walkers, but we Tanto are warriors.” With her free hand, she held onto Windbreaker’s long antlers, steering him around. Using his antler as a firm grip, she leaned down to pick up a gunstock warclub from the feet of a fallen Jhong-Ti warrior. She hefted the weight from one hand to the other, getting a feel for its movement. They were not the long spears that the Tanto preferred, nor the tomahawks or hatchets she favoured, but it was a solid weapon.

“Let me help protect the ones who offered me safety and passage through their lands,” Amaia said to Small Steps.

“You will not die for us Amaia of the Tanto.”

“I will not die for anyone, Lead Walker.” With that she and Windbreaker turned and with a whinny, charged into the frey.

By the end of the night, twelve tents were burned to the ground, and eighteen brave Jhong-Ti warriors lay dead or injured on the ground. Three women and five cases of water were missing, but a hunting party had been sent out to recover them all.

Amaia lead Windbreaker back to the heart of the encampment, finally hopping off her mount, giving his face a pat and antler a shake. Windbreaker nickered in affection.

Amaia’s warclub was coated in the blood of her enemies, as was some of her face. Both men and women stepped back from her as she walked through the encampment, the warclub balanced on her shoulder, and a great Tanto Moose following after her without any rope nor lead.

Small Steps was sat on a wooden crate, as his wife was wrapping his arm in a cloth bandage. Savar was also outside, one hand holding little Vro, while the other was hugging her husband Bird Song in a tight grip. “Amaia Windbreaker of the Tanto. You have fought valiantly at our side. Even if it was not your place to do so.”

“I am a Tanto Rider,” Amaia scoffed. “War is our place.”

“You are a Tanto Rider, but you are a guest. The Four Women curse those who allow for a guest to be injured.”

Amaia let out a small breath, and smiled. “I know little of the Four Women, but the Great Spirits would curse a Tanto Rider who hides when her duty to all is to fight and protect. I will pray to your gods for forgiveness in allowing me to serve mine.”

Small Steps held out a hand, which Amaia firmly grasped. “Rightly so.” He raised her arm aloft. “Amaia has shed blood in the defense of the Jhong-Ti!”

Cries of triumph echoed out.

Small Steps informed Amaia that they would not be continuing their walk that day, nor the next. Not until the women had been found and returned to them, or the hunting party returned with word of their demise.

Amaia was gifted a place of honour at the fire of Small Steps, along with the other warriors and hunters.

“I slew four kekarii,” one hunter extolled, ripping at a chunk of bison meat. “I dare any to speak who can exceed my kills.”

“I slew five.” One said.

“Seven”, said another.

The me laughed, clapping one another on the back. Amaia enjoyed their games, choosing to remain silent as she pulled a piece of bison meat from the bone and at it with crushed corn slaw.

“And what of you, famed moose rider. Could you reach for any heads of the kekarii from all the way up on your beast?”

“Tanto,” Amaia corrected, as she drank down some water. “Or Tanto Moose, to not confuse my tribe and our mounts. I slew thirteen and injured two.”

A stunned silence followed. Amaia did her best to not let a smirk fall on her lips. “You are walkers, hunters, and gatherers, and warriors. I am a Tanto Rider only.”

“You do know,” Small Steps began slowly with a wide grin, “that the young hunter or warrior who slays the most raiders in combat, will oft get first pick of the women to wed once we reach the Mother.”

The blush that descended on Amaia’s cheeks and neck left the men gasping with laughter. Amaia laughed too. It was a shared respect between them now. Amaia was still a guest, but now she was also a guardian of its peoples.

[Rhodevus]

Princess
June 2015

Media always portrayed office jobs in one of two ways. Mind numbing boredom from completing all assigned work before ten in the morning, and spending the rest of the workday putzing around the office until that timer for 5 o’clock rang and you were allowed to head home. Or, endless paperwork piled so high there was a perpetual risk of being crushed should the pages fall from their neat and orderly stacks.

For Sierra, her job happened to be much more the latter than the former.

Sure, it had been nearly eight months since that final interview with Diana, and three months since she officially took on the role of Princess Heir to the entire country of Rhodevus, but the work was ceaseless.

She signed her name below a legal file, knowing full well that it would be sent to her lawyers -she had federal lawyers under her direct employ now- who would return the file back to her covered in red ink and sticky notes for her to resign.

The job was tedious, and left her blood pressure rising each and every day, but she couldn’t yet say that it wasn’t a rewarding career shift. Not when she sat next to Diana who looked to be in a similar state at her own desk. Despite her being queen for going on eight years at that point, it was still an endless struggle not to suffocate beneath paperwork.

At times she missed being out in the field among her soldiers. Sure, as a commanding officer, she had to deal with her share of paperwork, but it could always fall by the wayside when up against action or training.

Now, sitting at her desk, she wanted to strangle those soldiers for putting off their paperwork, which just made her job that much harder.
Sierra lifted her head as she heard the telltale sigh coming from Diana that meant she needed a break.

“Let’s take a break,” Diana said as she stretched out her back.

“I could use a coffee,” Sierra replied. Her cup from that morning had gone cold well over an hour before, and this job was turning her into a caffeine addict like she never could have expected.

Diana signed whatever document she was looking at and placed it into her ‘finished’ pile, before standing up with a smile. “You’re right. A tea does sound good.”

Sierra watched Diana grab her jacket, knowing full well that she would remove it in fifteen minutes after standing in the heat of the Kingstown summer sun.

Sierra for her part removed her jacket, placing it on her chair as she got up to leave. Diana preferred her office colder than normal, which wasn’t so bad once she got used to it.

As the two highest authorities for the country left the office and made their way out of the Imperial Palace, Sierra was once again amazed by how easily Diana seemed to take to her job.

Not the paper pushing part, but the people part. For as quiet as she was in private, when faced with her people, she was everything but.
It reminded her of the day that she interviewed for her position. Classes were visiting the Imperial Palace complex on field trips, tourists were following tour guides or walking on their own through the central gardens, or into any of the open museum facilities. Guards were everywhere, as could be expected from such an important government institution, but they weren’t antagonizing.

Each soldier they passed gave her and the queen a quick salute. Diana would address each one by name before continuing on, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to remember that many names.

Sierra was still struggling to remember all the names of the senators she interacted with almost daily, let alone every single soldier, staff, or tour guide like Diana could. And it wasn’t just names.

They stopped for a full three minutes on their walk because the queen ran into an elderly man leading a tour of the Art Gallery named Henry, who had apparently been working at the Imperial Palace Complex since Diana was born. Then, she had to stop and answer a few questions from the tourists, and then take a few pictures.

By the time Sierra and Diana had made their way to the nearest local coffee shop, Sierra was people’d out and ready to return to the safety of the office.

Despite that, she purchased a cappuccino, and sat down with a chocolate croissant. Diana sat across from her with a cup of steaming mint tea, and a Danish. This would be the fifth cup of mint tea that Diana had that day. It was her favourite tea flavour after all.

“So, how are you liking the job?” Diana said after taking a long sip of her drink.

Sierra shrugged. “Has its ups and downs.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Diana laughed. She always laughed so openly, despite being a monarch and politician in a civilian setting, with the looks and whispers surrounding her. None of it seemed to effect her.

Sierra was once again reminded that Diana was the third in a dynasty of Wolff monarch, and she had literally grown up with this amount of attention.

It would be taking some time to get used to.

“Truly, I wanted to check in with you,” Diana put down her cup, leaning forward in her seat. “It’s a hard job, and a back breaking one. I truly understand if it is too much to take on. I’ve been trying to slowly work you into it, but you are my first Potential Heir.”

“Work me into it?” Sierra replied with a raised eyebrow. “I believe that my pile of paperwork is almost as big as yours.”

Diana laughed once more. “I cannot help it that I have finally found someone good at sorting through the paperwork. When I became queen, I always thought my job would be easier. You know, give grand speeches, kiss a few babies. Maybe shake hands with wealthy billionaires whom I’m attempting to tax to death. Instead, I’m left with even more paperwork than when I was in your position. At least it is easier to say no to politicians in the senate or house. Queen’s word is sacred after all.”

“And in the three months that I’ve been working with you, you have managed to hand off all the responsibilities of saying no to the ones who hate that word, over to me.”

“Ha! There is never an end to those who don’t take no as an answer. Many of them are men. It’s why I wanted a woman as my successor. At least for now.”

Sierra tore a piece of her croissant before asking a question that has plagued her since she accepted the position.

“Speaking of, why did you actually name me your successor? There are countless other women who are better qualified.”

“In all honesty, you were my fourth choice. The first was killed during the final days of the James Wars; a politician, in case you were wondering. The second was disqualified in the senate vote, and the third said no to my offer. Wanted to keep her position at her current company. I understand. It is hard work changing careers. And it is not unlikely for us to have assassination attempts placed on us. We are powerful people, and more so, powerful women. This job makes you fabulously wealthy should you be in it for long enough. People don’t like that.

“I wanted you because you are smart. And brave. And, if I am being brutally honest, you are a military woman. Following my brother’s war, there was a divide in the army. Of course, those who were working for my brother were charged as criminals as they rightly were, but there were others whom truly believed that my father chose James as his legal successor in the end. Those people would never see me as strong enough to lead the country.

“They would see you, though.”

“Me?”

“Sierra Abrams. You are a talented veteran with experience in two branches of the military, and close relations with many in all branches. It also helps that your parents are so famous.”

Sierra huffed, leaning back in her seat. “It always goes back to my parents.”

“How could it not? You think I would have this position were it not for my grandfather, the king. Or my father, the king. Or my mother, someone who could essentially be described as a Toa-te-Awan princess? As much as I wish they didn’t, connections matter. And so while your work as a leader got you through the door, your parents, your relationship to the ex-crowned princess of the Empire of Rezua, and your other friendships with high ranking members of military staff got you to the door in the first place.”

“I understand. It is just hard to hear that it was not solely my own actions that lead to this.”

Diana smiled, placing a soft hand on her’s.

“You are the reason you are still here, sitting across from me. There is no nepotism at this rank. Not under me at least. While your connections may have got you to the door, and your interviews through it, it is your own actions, every single day, that keep you here. Keep you fighting for a better nation that we both can believe in.”

Diana finished her tea that she apparently had been drinking the entire time, and went to stand.

“We are powerful women, you and I. Its our job to make sure that this country can survive the people trying to own it, or rule it. Now, I shall remind you that part of your job description is to ensure that I do not own this country, just as mind is to ensure you don’t. And all that means, is more endless work for the both of us until we trust one another enough to jointly hire our staff.”

“I trust you,” Sierra quickly said.

Diana smirked. “If you did, I would let you get your own office, and you would stop sneaking glances at my workload and my person.”

Sierra blushed at being caught. “Apologies ma’am. I believed I was better trained to avoid detection.”

Diana laughed once more, wrapping the remainder of her Danish in a napkin to take with her. Sierra did the same with the bite of croissant she had left.

“You aren’t the only one who went through basic training, Sierra. And besides, princess training was much harder than anything I had to do in the Diplomacy Corps.”

As Diana walked out of the coffee shop, she continued to laugh at Sierra’s befuddled expression.

“Princess Training?”

[Rhodevus]

Amaia and Her Many Names

Amaia sat on a thick rug at one side of her tent. To her left was her eldest son and his family. A beautiful wife, and four delightful granddaughters. To her right was her only daughter and her family; Two glorious sons and a daughter as well. Across from her sat her third child, who sat with their eyes closed, taking in the sounds of family. They never longed for the company of others. It was why their position as Head Shaman remained unchallenged even into their old age.

It was true. Amaia was old. Far older than she ever thought she would become, surrounded by her three children, her seven grandchildren, and four great grandchildren. A fifth great grandchild was on the way, judging by how her grandson’s wife was clutching her belly.

It pleased her, to see her family so large and growing.

It was what she always hoped for.

She took in an uneasy breath. The crackling of her inhale matched the popping of the wood on the fire. Amaia watched the smoke ascend. The shapes reminded her of her dearest beloved Windbreaker. He had died many years ago, surrounded by his own family. A lineage of Tanto to last an age.

Her tent was no bigger than any other in the Tanto tribe, save for the main hut relegated for communal activities, or any of the shaman's tents, but it was large enough to properly fit her entire living family, a small wood-burning fire near to the centre, her sleeping roll, bundled up and put away while she had guests, and a box filled with trinkets and souvenirs of a life long lived.

“G’meia,” her great grandson, a boy of three, waddled up to her, collapsing into her lap as if it were the most normal thing to do.

“Yes, my child,” Amaia replied, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Why do you have so many names?”

Amaia barked out a laugh, her eyes reliving journeys and travels that no other living person could claim. Possibly not even any other person dead. She was not Amaia the Long Travelled for nothing. If she had her way, others would follow her success and have travels of their own, even if they did not have the rocky start that hers did.

“Do my sweet great grandchildren wish to know my names?”

“Ya!” Came the chorus of noise, as the children all formed a circle in front of her, much to the pleasant laughter of the rest of the family.

Knowing looks passed between them all. It wasn’t too long ago that she told them these same stories. It was almost a generational story in a way. Amaia had told each of them when they were young, and on and on for each of their children. All knew that they would still share their matriarch's stories long after she died and returned to the spirits. She was Beloved of the Spirits after all, and woe be to any who try and take what the spirits lay claim to.

Even Amaia knew that she would not be returning to the earth with her forebears and her late husband. Hers was always a life of adventure, and while her family and friends would miss her, her journey would not end even as her mortal body did.

Still, she did as she always did, despite her old age, and cleared her throat and begun to sing of her well lived life.

“I am Amaia, the name of my birth. Gifted to me by my own mother, just as I had gifted the names of my children to them.”

“I am Windbreaker. Some called me Amaia, Rider of Windbreaker, but that is not what I have deemed call myself. For my Tanto and I, we are one and the same. I am Windbreaker, and Windbreaker is me.”

“I am the Twice Called, as Taharei the Unspoken One, called to me twice through Their golden eagle.”

“I am the Calm Night, for Kahala sang to me in the light of the moon.”

“I am one of Meiana Weillo, as Redento Vihas, the earth mother, has granted me a seed of the Kho’hitn to speak in Her words.”

“I am the Land Bound, as Ohtawa of the great oceans issued his warning to me with a Yellow-Pyker out of season, so that I may never find peace in His waters.”

“I am a Tanto Rider, for that is my destiny and a warrior is what I always shall be.”

“I am Friend of the Jhong-Ti, as I requested their aid and they asked me to walk alongside them.”