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5thDay of Ignis

128 I.E.

It was a quiet evening, and Dane was grateful for a peaceful night for once. All he could hear were the crickets chirping nearby and the flapping wings of a bird overhead. The sun had set hours ago, and most of the taverns were just beginning to wind down. Dane stood at his window and looked out across the city of Crystal Lake. All he saw were rows upon rows of buildings and the endless expanse of plains beyond. He was regretting his choice to let Elizabeth have the lakeside view. He could hear the faint sound of a loon cooing in the distance.

It'd been a taxing day since he had left the infirmary that morning. Digran made sure to keep him busy even with a wounded arm and ribs that were still healing. He didn't want to deal with any of the things that Digran wanted him to do while he was injured. Between watching the gatehouse at the edge of the Rogarian District, to directly dealing with inspecting caravans and quelling the few remaining riots that were still cropping up, Dane was kept working as if he'd never been stabbed in the arm.

I just got out of the infirmary. One would think that'd be reason enough to ease up a bit and let me rest for a few days.

A light knock came from his door, followed by a muffled voice. "Lieutenant Trueshot? May I come in?"

"Yes, you may," Dane replied. He wasn't sure why someone would come and see him at such a late hour, but figured it must have been important. Dane turned and spotted Corporal Taille stepping into the room. "Oh, it's just you. What is it?"

"Sir!" the corporal saluted. "We were wondering if you would like to take a crack at our prisoners tomorrow morning? We're having no luck and I was hoping that perhaps you'd know someway to break him."

"That's all you wanted?" Dane asked, exasperated, then shook his head. "Sergeant Vedray already informed me about the situation." Even though he wasn't doing anything at the moment, he was still annoying to be bothered so late at night for something so trivial. He wasn't sure why Elizabeth and Roweon were so hellbent on having in talk to their captives. Interrogating prisoners was a specialized job, something he'd only learned the basics of while at the Academy. It wasn't a mage's job to get information out of someone.

However, the chances were high that Digran would probably pass the job off to him anyways once he concluded that the inquisitor was, in his mind, useless.

"I don't know what else to do about it but I'll at least come see this man and try to talk to him." Dane said, and thought that'd be the end of it. "You are dismissed." Still, Roweon remained in the doorway. "Was there anything else?"

"Well...um...there was something else," Roweon said, hands fidgeting. "I just wanted to compliment you on a job well done."

Dane shrugged off the praise. "I'm only doing what I'm supposed to do."

"No, it's more than that. You minimized our own losses while managing to maximize theirs."

"Minimized?" Dane repeated without even bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Eight men is a hefty price to pay, Corporal. I hardly call that 'minimized'." He strolled over to his desk, picked out a piece of parchment, and threw it down on the edge, facing Roweon. "Eight people dead. Eight families that need to be told the fate of their kin. Countless friends who will no doubt share their grief. Thieves and bandits have no family to call their own. This was not a fair trade."

"Why do you care so much, Lieutenant?" Roweon asked. "They were soldiers, they knew what they were getting into."

"Because they were people I failed to protect!" Dane snapped. "What's the point of having this power if I can't even protect those closest to me?"

A moment of silence passed between them. Dane couldn't figure out what Roweon wanted, or what he was getting at. There was no discernible reason for him to be getting him riled up so late at night.

"I still think that our victory was won only because of your efforts," Roweon muttered.

"No, we didn't win. We got lucky that someone decided to remove that werewolf," Dane said, glowering. "Both you and the Sergeant believe we were victorious. We were not. We were lucky we weren't killed."

"Still," Roweon persisted, "You did a good job. Your magic is amazing."

"No, it's not. I am barely more than an adept, at best. I was unable to protect anyone, despite the fact I should have been able to kill at least half those bandits on my own with my power. I would have bled to death if Locke wasn't there to lend me his knife to cauterize my wound. The werewolf went after those who turned in ran instead of someone like myself who was on Shinixuroc's doorstep."

Roweon pursed his lips and his brow furrowed in thought. "You sell yourself short, Lieutenant. A lesser man would have been dead from an encounter with a monster like that."

Dane turned away from Roweon. "What are you getting at, Corporal?"

"I just wanted to say thank you, and that we're lucky to have a headstrong, powerful, and charismatic commander here to lead us, sir." Dane could hear the man's footsteps approaching from behind, but he didn't look at him.

"Commander Digran is the one in charge," Dane reminded Roweon. He wanted the Corporal out of his room as soon as possible. The conversation was slowly causing Dane's stomach to do back flips.

"Of course, but you actually lead us into battle." Roweon whispered into his ear. "So again, thank you." The Corporal stepped forward and kissed Dane on the cheek.

Dane eyes opened wide and he pushed Roweon away. "What are you doing? Are you trying to seduce me?" he spat.

"That depends. Do you want me to?"

"I'm not like that...I mean, I don't want this..." Memories of a life he could never have, of his time with Aiden, flashed before his eyes. He had to will himself to hold the tears back. Dane coughed and cleared his throat, "This violates numerous military laws, and you could be dishonorably discharged for your attempts." Dane was silenced by a finger being pressed lightly to his lips.

"Ssh, don't. I know what you're thinking, and trust me when I say I understand," Roweon whispered before kissing Dane on his lips. He took his lower lip and nibbled it gently as he pulled away. In a low voice, he said, "Don't act like you don't think I know about your... tastes. Your troops have very loose tongues when you're not around."

Dane resisted and tried to push the man away, not wanting to tarnish Aiden's memory.

This is wrong! I should stop! he thought, yet his body wouldn't listen to him and he melted into the other man's arms.

Roweon broke it off and said after an intake of breath. "Well, I should be going. I have much to do tomorrow. You have a good night...Lieutenant." He gave Dane a smile before leaving him alone to his thoughts.

Dane slumped back and leaned on his desk, placing on hand onto the corner for support. He put one hand against his forehead and looked down at the ground.

Had he missed signs of Roweon flirting with him? He didn't normally deal with other people, choosing instead to bury himself in his work, so he was certain he'd never have known the signs if they'd been there. Aiden had been the first and one of the only people to bring him out of his shell. It felt uncomfortable to be in such a position with a relative stranger. Dane reflected on the last few weeks since he had arrived at Sanctuary, paying particular attention to times he was alone with Roweon. The Corporal was always exceedingly interested in whatever he did and was constantly pestering him with questions, or standing just a bit too close to be considered polite, or touching him for a second too long when trying to grab his attention. He wasn't sure how he hadn't picked up on such behaviour before, but it was clear Roweon had been flirting with him.

Had I missed it because I was too busy being upset over Aiden?

It was late, and he figured it would be best to get some sleep and worry about this new development after he'd had a good night's rest and his other problems were dealt with.

The next day, Dane was summoned down to the dungeon where the prisoner was being held for questioning. It was a hallway of cells that was dug out deep in the earth beneath the barracks. No natural light could make its way down there, as the stairs spiraled around beneath a tower before stretching out under the base. The temperature began to drop as Dane headed into the dungeon. He shivered involuntarily, and tried to rub his exposed arms for warmth. Finding such an action futile, Dane decided instead to use a simple cantrip that surrounded him with a warm aura of magic to ward off the cold. He pressed a hand against the smooth, thick metal door at the bottom of the staircase and pushed it open.

The hallway was lit only by torches hung in sconces on the wall. The Rogarian military didn't care to spend the resources on putting the ever-lasting luminescent globes in the dungeon. They felt it wasn't worth it for a prison. It meant that sometimes the prisoners might endure some or most of the day without any light or warmth if no one was maintaining the torches.

He proceeded down the hallway and stopped in front of a cell that had a pair of guards adjacent to the door. They saluted as Dane approached. He turned his head and noted that Corporal Taille was also present, hugging the shadows and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Dane did his best to ignore the Corporal's presence, as it reminded him of things he'd rather not think about.

"Is he prepped?" Dane asked.

"Yes sir, he's all yours." the guard unlocked the gate and stepped aside.

Against the wall, the man was forced to sit cross legged, with his arms chained to the wall to restrict his movement. His face was bloodied and bruised, and he raised his head slowly to regard Dane as he stepped inside.

"You! You killed my brothers!" the bandit snarled.

"And you would've killed us and countless civilians if we had not fought back, so let's stop these dramatics before they begin," Dane said, not amused by the bandit's behaviour. "What's your name?"

"I don't answer to you, I follow a higher calling!"

"Answer the question." The bandit remained silent and glared at Dane. "What do you want with all the goods you're stealing?"

"Why would we want anything with them?" he replied. "Such goods are useless to us."

"Then why did you take them?" Dane asked. His temper was beginning to rise, and could feel mana gathering around him.

"Get lost, dog!" the other prisoner shouted from the adjacent cell. "You won't get any information out of him." Looking down at the prisoner Dane was interrogating, he said, "Shut up, or you'll really get it!"

Dane walked around the cell, keeping his eyes on the prisoner and matching the intensity of his gaze. "Who do you work for?"

The prisoner remained silent, and Dane repeated himself through gritted teeth. "Who do you work for?"

"Go fornicate yourself with a rusty pitchfork, heathen!" the other man shouted.

Dane ignored him and grabbed the prisoner's hair. He tugged the man's head back and stared down at him, his face nearly touching the other man's. "Speak, Gods damn you!" Dane's voice had deepened as he grew angrier. "Who. Do. You. Work. For?"

The prisoner still remained silent. Dane let go of his hair and stood back up, then regained his composure. He tried to shut out the looks he was getting from the other soldiers.

"Fine have it your way." Dane unsheathed his sword and pointed the tip at the bandit. "Answer the question or I'll have you castrated right here and now. I will then cauterize the wound only at my leisure."

He could hear Corporal Taille call his name, but he ignored it. "Answer the question!"

The man's voice started monotone, but grew more manic as he spoke, "I am nameless. I am a servant of Sytarel. I do Her bidding and nothing more." The bandit began to laugh, his mad cackling echoing off the damp stone walls. "You can do nothing to stop the coming storm! The Mistress and Her followers shall rise up and strike you down for your sins! The Coalition will fall beneath the shadows of Her armies, and Muriaj will be born anew amidst the ruins!"

The bandit shifted as his hands fumbled with something behind his back. There was a click followed by the scraping of metal against flesh. Laughter filled the room as slowly, the man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped forward.

"No! Get Sylvie down here now! I want him alive for questioning!" Dane ordered, and the guards stormed off to get the medic.

The prisoner in the other cell let out a choked laugh and slumped forward, his face falling against the ground. By the time the guards returned with Sylvie, it was too late.

She gave the corpse a quick once over, then turned the man's hand upwards. There was a ring on his finger, with a barb sticking off the underside where he had cut his thumb.

"It's tipped with a powerful poison, Lieutenant," Sylvie replied, standing up and wiping the dirt off her leggings. "He was dead in less than a minute."

"Damn it! How did they miss it when he was brought in?" Dane asked. "Why didn't we confiscate it?" He whirled around to face the guards, but neither man could offer him an explanation.

Dane gritted his teeth, trying to contain his anger as his arms shook at his sides. There was no reason for the bandits to have any of their personal effects with them. Damn the guards' incompetence! In an attempt to relieve his growing frustration, Dane gave the corpse a rough kick with a booted foot, startling Sylvie and causing her to jump back in surprise. "Just what I needed, the prophetic ramblings of a madman. Just what in the Pantheon's name was he going on about?"

Dane knew that many warriors and mercenaries pledged themselves to the Goddess of War, Sytarel. She was a hot headed deity who reveled in the glory of battle, regardless of where it came from, and she expected those who followed her to follow a similar way of life. Dane prayed that this man who had just died at his feet was a lone warrior amongst a group of bandits. Otherwise they'd be in trouble. Sytarelites were voracious, tenacious, and the most fanatical of any religious group Dane had ever seen.

What did he mean when he mentioned Sytarel's armies? And why Muriaj?_Dane's thoughts turned to what he'd heard about Xenaria being conquered by an army to the south. _Perhaps there is a connection to the caravan raids after all... but to what end?

Corporal Taille stepped into the cell and stood beside Dane. "What do you suppose that was all about?"

Roweon's voice broke Dane from his thoughts. "I have no idea. Why are you asking me?" he snapped. He regretted his tone as soon as he spoke. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I understand Lieutenant," Taille said, then added before leaving, "If you'll excuse me..."

Dane dismissed Sylvie, apologizing for wasting her time, and ordered to have the body incinerated. He then excused himself and returned to his quarters.

I need to find out who to talk to, I need to tell someone, and to get more information. I doubt talking to Digran would be of any use. Dane thought. He didn't have many options. Sanctuary had very little military strength, and what it did have was spread thin throughout the whole of their country. They would not be able to defend against an attack with just their numbers alone.

Dane spoke a cantrip to a simple scribing spell he'd learned that set a quill to magically write down what he'd heard from the bandit. He needed to get it down while it was still fresh in his memory so he could go out and find someone to talk to.

As if aware of his need, Commander Digran barged unceremoniously into his room.

Dane stood up straight and saluted him, "Sir!"

"What's this I hear about our prisoner being dead?" Digran asked. Dane could tell he was annoyed.

"Killed himself sir."

"That wouldn't have anything to do with you brandishing your sword and waving it around at him, would it? I bet he just fell on your blade."

Dane scowled. "He cut himself with a poison tipped barb that was hidden on the underside of his ring. Just ask to see Medic Pann's report. Or even go see the body for yourself, before its incinerated."

"And you didn't think to have Pann present when interrogating the prisoner just in case?" Digran pressed on.

"N-no." Dane began to falter.

"And why not?"

Dane thought quickly, searching for an answer. It wasn't standard procedure, but it wasn't unheard of that a prisoner could harm themselves in their cells. His CO was growing impatient, and he blurted out the first excuse he could come up with. "I didn't feel the need to waste Medic Pann's time with something so trivial."

"That's a load of horse crap and you know it," Digran spat. "You're on thin ice with me, Trueshot. I hate sorcerers like you, thinking you're the cock of the walk and doing whatever you please. I'll be watching you."

Before Digran shut the door, Dane called out to him, "Sir, wait. There's something I need to bring to your attention."

With a huff, Digran turned around. "Fine, you've got one minute."

Dane quickly filled Digran on the situation, on what the captive had raved about, and of the connection he felt he had made between the war to the south and the caravan raids.

"So what you're saying is, you believe some religious lunatic about the possibilities of an attack on Muriaj?" Digran asked, and Dane hesitantly nodded his head. "You're a moron, you know that? I don't have time for this, I have better things to do than entertain the fantasies of a child."

Digran left and slammed the door behind him. Dane dropped down onto his bed and hung his head. He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. He felt helpless, like a ship out at sea without so much as a breeze to propel it. He believed he'd found something that would prove to be important, but the person he answered to didn't believe him. It wasn't much of a surprise to Dane though. He'd been at odds with Digran ever since he joined his unit, and slowly, Digran's own troops were beginning to listen to Dane's ideas and strategies more often than they would listen to their commander's. He was a threat that the man wanted to get rid of.

One thought stuck out to Dane, "How did he find out about the captive's suicide so quickly?" He said to the empty room. He thought for a moment, then it hit him. "It had to have been Roweon" he snarled. The corporal must have ratted him out, like a child running to mommy. That was why he'd left the dungeon so quickly.

He would have to deal with Roweon later. For now, Dane needed to find someone who had just as much, if not more authority than Digran. And he knew just where to find such a person. Rogust wasn't the only nation that had a base in Sanctuary. There were also dwarven, elven, and minotaur forces present. He'd seek out one of their commanders and try to reason with them.

The dwarven commander would be best. Olaraa is closest to whatever is happening down south, so he'll be the most informed, Dane thought as he set out several pieces of parchment across his desk.However, I shouldn't rule out the Kitairan or Snowhoof commanders either, and should appeal to them as well.

First, Dane worked to make a duplicate of his report of the incident in the dungeon, as well as information regarding the attacks on the caravans. Each commander he was addressing would need a copy of it, and he was grateful that his scribing spells could take care of that for him without having to lift a finger.

Once that was done, he grabbed three more papers and began to write a missive for them.

Hail and well met, Commander;

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dane Trueshot, Lieutenant and Warmage of Rogust's 81stMobile Infantry Division. I headed the operation to confront the caravan raiders that have been plaguing our nations.

I hope that this message finds you in good health, for what I'm about to share may very well determine the fate of our alliance as we know it. Attached you will find a report detailing the bandit extermination operation my forces carried out as well as a copy of the words one of our captives spoke before he committed suicide.

I'm sure you are all no doubt aware of the rumors about Xenaria falling to an unknown enemy, and I feel that it is no coincidence that these caravan raids began to occur around the same time. I believe that the raiders are related to the events brewing in the south.

I am aware that it may seem like a stretch to come to such a conclusion, but none-the-less I hope you will consider the possibility and respond with all due haste. I would like to confer with you and hear your opinion regarding the matter.

Thank you, and may the Gods watch over you.

Respectfully,

Dane Trueshot

With the utterance of another cantrip, Dane set his quill to copy the missive to the other two pages. Once it was done, he signed all three documents with his own hands, piled them atop the copied reports, and folded them closed. From his drawer, he produced a red wax candle and set it down on the desk.

"An theros verus. Fiz ban!" Dane spoke the words to one of the first spells he'd ever learned, and lit the candle. It only took a few moments for the wax to start to run, and he dripped it onto the folded parchment. Using a ring with Rogust's regal R embossed on it, he pressed it into the wax to create a seal.

Once this was done he snuffed the flame out and stuffed the candle back inside his drawer along with the ring. Dane moved to the door and opened it a crack. The guard standing at his door saluted him.

"Sir!"

"At ease," Dane said, "I need a reliable messenger to deliver something for me. Can you grab three soldiers from downstairs who are willing to run an errand for me?"

"Certainly, at once Lieutenant!"

"Send them right in when they get here."

It only took a few moments before Robert, Jolsten, and Locke were ushered inside Dane's room. He stood up and returned their salutes as they stepped in front of his desk.

"I hope you volunteered for this, because I'm afraid I'm going to be having you run across the city to deliver something for me."

"Anything sir!" Jolsten replied without hesitation, before the other two could open their mouths.

Dane handed each one of them a sealed parchment. "I need these delivered to the commanders of the Snowhoof, Kitair, and Olaraa that reside here in the city. Locke, take yours to Commander Naus Roughorn in the Minotaur Quarter. Welshy, to Commander Gryph Hammerfist in the Dwarven Quarter. And as for you Pitch, deliver the missive to Commander Yalthros Leafsblade in the Elven Quarter."

"You want us to deliver it?" Welshy asked incredulously, "Isn't that the job of a messenger boy?"

"I trust any one of my men more than I would trust a street urchin to handle this task. A lot more," Dane replied.

Welshy grinned as he held the missive up and folded one of the corners up. "And what's to stop us from breaking the seal and reading it ourselves?"

Dane walked over to the window and looked outside, up towards a cloudless sky. "What indeed..." he muttered, loud enough for them to hear. A loud thunderclap echoed from above, and shook the building with the sound.

He peered over his shoulder at the three soldiers as they jumped at attention at the sound. Dane had to turn back around quickly to keep from showing the idiotic grin forming on his face.

"I won't open it sir!" Welshy spoke so quickly his words ran together into a single jumble of sounds.

"That's good. Now, get moving, and make sure those missives make it into the hands of the right people."

Robert and Jolsten shuffled out of the room as quickly as they could, but Locke remained behind. Dane settled into his chair and began to work on some of his research. The other man cleared his throat and he looked up.

"Is there something else, Private?" Dane asked.

Locke smirked at him. "Are you really going to talk to me so formally, sir? After everything the two of us have been through in the last year."

Dane chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "No, I suppose not. Was there something you needed?"

"I don't need anything, but..." Locke reached behind him and pulled at something he'd slid between his belt and his pants. He tossed a sheathed knife on the desk. "I got that for you."

"What's this for?"

"Figured you could use one. A man should never be without a knife, or so my grandaddy used to tell me," Locke said. "I keep at least two on me at all times in addition to my sword. When you're in a bind and lose your weapon, it never hurts to have a spare. Then you won't have to improvise with the enemy's weapon."

Dane stared at the simple dagger laying on the desk in front of him. It wasn't from the armory, that much was certain, as it lacked the Rogarian seal. He drew the blade, seeing his reflection in the perfectly polished metal. This was a new weapon, and it was clear that it had never been drawn before. How much had Locke spent on it? Now Dane felt guilty, and he wasn't sure what he could do to properly thank the man.

"Thank you, Locke." Dane set the dagger on the table.

Locke saluted, clicking the heels of his boots together. "I'll go take care of delivering this message for you. As long as you promise to keep that knife with you."

Shaking his head, Dane smiled despite himself. "Fine, fine, I get it." He swiped it off his desk and tossed it towards his bed so he could put it on his armor rack before going to sleep. "I'll see you when you get back."

Nodding, Locke turned and left the room as he ran downstairs, the sound of his footsteps carrying up the steps.

* * * * *

The rest of the day passed without incident, and Dane was disheartened to hear that none of the commanders he appealed to had sent a message back with his men. He wondered if they even cared about what he had to say at all. With nothing else to do but wait to hear back from them, Dane decided to move onto his next problem.

He summoned Corporal Taille to his quarters, and dismissed the guard outside his door. Dane shoulders ached as he tensed up. It had been a long and stressful day, and it was only about to get more tiresome before the night was over. He tried to relax his shoulders a bit before Roweon walked in, but they instantly tightened again when he saw the Corporal.

"You called for me, sir?" Roweon asked after stepping into the room. "I couldn't help but notice you dismissed your guard. Is something the matter?"

He didn't even turn to acknowledge that the corporal was inside the room. He wasn't sure where to begin. It seemed he had to deal with more confrontation with subordinates and superiors than he felt necessary, only this time he had brought it on himself. "At ease, soldier. Have a seat." He didn't want to confront Roweon, but he had to be sure that the corporal knew not to play games with him.

Roweon hesitated, and didn't move from the doorway. "Sir, I don't think-"

"Sit." It came out as a command, not a request. The corporal shuffled over to the chair and took a seat in front of Dane's desk. "It seems my superior is in disagreement over what happened this afternoon, and Digran is using it as an excuse to cause me problems."

Roweon didn't say anything in response, and just watched Dane as he talked.

"Digran has openly expressed his desire to get rid of me, but I doubt that will happen any time soon, considering my personal record."

"I don't understand what this has to do with me," Roweon said, confused.

Dane let out a small laugh, and spun to face Roweon. "Digran found out about what happened in the dungeon pretty quickly. A little too quickly, if you catch my drift."

Roweon's face was blank for a moment, then scrunched up into a grimace as realization set in. "I'll have you know I had nothing to do with that."

"So defensive."

Roweon stuttered, trying to find the right words. "I defended you when Digran came to question me! Why would I do that if I wanted to paint you in a bad light to your superior officer?"

"Everybody lies. Why should I trust your word?" Dane responded. He was sure it was Roweon who did it, who else would have reason to rat him out?

"This isn't about Digran, is it?" Roweon finally said, after a moment of silence. "I can see the answer in your eyes even if you don't realize it yourself. I'm not stupid, you know."

Turning away from the man, Dane moved towards the window again. "You may not be stupid, but you're still wrong."

"Am I?" the man's voice was in a whisper, but Dane could hear it clear as day. Roweon now stood right behind Dane. He could feel his subordinate breathing down his neck, sending chills down his spine. He froze and wasn't sure what to say or do. Roweon continued to talk, and Dane could feel hands snaking around his body. "I think you're just upset with me for my advances."

Dane could feel Roweon's body pressed right up against his. He could feel a warmth spread through his body, and though a part of him welcomed the contact, another part of him wanted to push the corporal away.

"Just relax, it'll be okay," Roweon whispered.

"I don't want--"

"But you do. I can see it in your eyes." Roweon kissed Dane a few times on the neck gently, with a feather's touch. "Relax, and let me take care of everything."

Dane could feel the fingers trace themselves along his chest, moving up to the buttons of his tunic and undoing them all in swift, fluid motions. To Dane, they seemed practiced. A hand gripped his, and Roweon lightly tugged his arm, pulling him towards the bed.

"This isn't right," Dane said.

"Why?" Roweon asked coyly.

"I, uh, well, you know why..." Dane stuttered as Roweon removed his shirt for him. He felt exposed, both in the literal and metaphorical sense.

"Ssh," Roweon placed a finger on Dane's lips. "Just, relax and enjoy yourself."

That night, Dane bedded someone for the first time since Aiden passed away.

* * * * *

The next morning, Dane awoke to find Roweon still in his bed. There was a loud knock at the door, and he scrambled to get himself dressed. He unceremoniously threw the covers over Roweon's still snoozing body as he called out, "Just a moment!"

Please don't open the door. Don't come inside! Dane thought, panicking. If it were Digran he would burst in any second. He hopped towards the door as he tried to put his foot through his leggings.

He only opened the door a crack, just enough to see his guardsman standing there holding a bundle of letters. "These arrived for you this morning sir."

"Thank you," Dane said, and quickly shut the door before the guard could say anything more.

He took a seat behind his desk and looked at each of the letters. Each one was sealed with a different color of wax, and with a different insignia, each representing the country of the commander the response belonged to.

Dane opened Naus Roughorn's response first, and gaped at it as he read the large, hurriedly scribbled words on the paper:

I AM NOT IMPRESSED WITH YOU, LIEUTENANT! YOUR LETTER REEKS OF THE ARCANE AND I WILL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!

Dane shook his head. He should've been aware of the minotaur's distrust of the arcane, and handwritten his letter to Naus. He moved onto Yalthros' and Gryph's letters, and they both said essentially the same thing.

I agree with your assessment, Lieutenant, and would like to invite you to the House of Commons to discuss matters with your Commander. I believe that there is a correlation between the raids and the army to the south, and I feel that it's important we confer on the issue. I will send a message in a week's time to arrange a date for such a meeting.

"Oh thank the Gods someone listened!" Dane cheered, rousing Roweon from his slumber. Then something dawned on him and he slumped back into his chair. "Great, now I have to invite Digran to this stupid meeting."