“At Vil Midten?” Sally asked Paul, putting on her jacket. It was the usual location for a grand meet like this.

  Paul nodded and after sharing a quick goodbye, Sally left.

  A thirty-mile journey, Sally thought as she moved out of the Vil, the harsh light of the sun making her squint. Through and over the mountain. And in only two days? An impossible for even the toughest Warden.

  Sounds easy enough, Sally thought, grinning widely.

  32. The Midten Meet – September 9, Year 216

  She’d made it to the Midten Vil at the start of the evening on the day of the meet, which wasn’t great. While she was familiar with the area in general – she’d visited all but the easternmost Vils by the Shiyle River, so she was at least somewhat familiar with most of the Vil mountains – the route she and Niall had used to get to the Midten Vil had always involved travelling the Gold and Red Circuit roads before following the Veron River north and east.

  That route however would have taken far too long, so instead these past two days Sally had improvised a different route entirely. It wasn’t a complicated or detailed one, it was to simply go from the Zjevik-Ong Vil to Shaye Vil, to Hagos, to Luo-Duvalli and finally to Midten. A chain from one Vil to the next.

  The reason why Niall had never taken the route was because it travelled all throughout the northern mountains. It was unreasonably difficult with the constant change in elevation, and thus slower than simply following the Circuit roads. Sally had figured that now, blessed to the hilts as she was, the route would be easy. Tireless as she was, the difficulty of this route would matter less than the distance of the old one.

  She was wrong.

  Well, that’s not quite true. She did make it eventually, even if only barely on time, and the physical difficulty of the route was as she expected: harsh, but uniquely achievable for her.

  What she’d failed to account for was that, while she roughly knew how to get to each Vil, she didn’t really know the route. The times she’d wandered through these nds and Vils had always been with Niall by her side, who’d travelled them for the past three decades and knew them like the back of his hand. Now without a mentor to guide her through, Sally had needed to climb mountains numerous times just to reorient herself, had travelled through ravines and valleys that ever so subtly turned until she lost her way completely, and had encountered fully blocked-off passages that she’d had to drag herself over with tooth and nail.

  And if her unfamiliarity with the terrain wasn’t bad enough, there was something else she’d severely underestimated: night-time travel. Reorienting during the day was ultimately just a matter of putting in the effort, while night-time was a different beast altogether. The little light from the moon and stars wasn’t enough to illuminate the nd, making any ndmark difficult to spot. If that wasn’t enough, the mountains obstructed the little light there was from reaching the valleys, plunging them into near pitch-bck darkness and making them nigh impossible to travel. Then there were the animals and demons that hid in these dark valleys, their mirror-eyes gleaming a sinister greens, oranges and reds before disappearing as quickly as they came.

  Luckily, none of the beasts tested their luck and Sally had enough knowledge about the stars to use them to navigate. But who knew how many extra miles she’d had to walk to get to where she needed to be? Sally sure didn’t. Still, what mattered was that she succeeded, and while arriving at such a te time was less than ideal, it was better than not arriving at all.

  The Midten Vil was more simir to those of the Palters and Guha than the Zjevik-Ong’s: built in a fertile – for as far as these barren nds could be counted as ‘fertile’ – valley rather than atop a mountain, with farms and trees carefully rowed and sectioned off from the grass-filled grazends. There were a few men and women tending to the crops and shepherding the flocks, with many a child running and pying in within them. Considering the time of day and what was happening in the Vil, the adults were probably here more to keep an eye on the children and livestock than actively working here.

  Atop the Midten Vil stood a watchtower with two people manning them, and as Sally walked to within a mile of the Vil, the two silhouettes she saw within spotted her in turn. Inside the watchtower was a metal tube one could speak into with someone listening in on the other hand, ready to pass on a message. Which meant that soon, an armed man or woman from the Vil would come up to greet her. Perhaps even several, considering the importance of the meet held within.

  Sally kept moving towards the Vil. While she’d abandoned the near-run she’d maintained since leaving the Zjevik-Ong, her pace was still solid and after five minutes, she was moving through the fields, politely nodding towards the people working them and waving at the children with a smile. Aside from curious gnces – and the occasional wave back from the less shy children – no-one bothered to approach.

  A trio emerged from the Vil: two men and one woman, all of them armed with rifles. Sally, for diplomacy’s sake, held up her hands even though none of them pointed their rifles at her.

  She kept walking, and eventually, when Sally figured they were within hearing range, Sally opened her mouth to shout. “Hi there! Didn’t expect a to be greeted by the Midten’s welcome committee!” By the time she was done, they were practically face to face.

  “All strangers receive them, especially when they arrive at such a te time,” one of the men spoke with a serious, no-nonsense tone. Sally didn’t recognize him, which wasn’t surprising. “Now, the sooner you state your business here, the sooner we can get you to leave.”

  “Here for the meet, of course. Are they not open to all of the Vil folk?” Sally asked rhetorically, slowly lowering her arms.

  None of the three stopped her, nor noticed the oddity that was her metal hand. “A Vil woman would know when the meet was and arrive on time.”

  There was truth to that, Sally supposed. The meet was always on the ninth, though the reason behind that decision was lost to her. Supposedly, it had something to do with either the date at which the apocalypse ended, the date at which the Vils were build or the date at which the horrors that once made their home here had been purged from the mountains in a grand collective effort. Either way, the ninth had lodged itself into the collective subconscious of the Vils as a day of coming together.

  Sally gave a shrug in response. “If I knew it were such an important one, I would’ve come sooner. Still, considering the distance, it’s a small wonder I made it on time.”

  “Where’d you come from then?” The man asked.

  “Paid a visit to the Zjevik-Ong before coming here. But originally?” Sally paused for a second, building suspense. “Sarah Palters, junior Warden. A pleasure,” Sally said with a smile, extending her hand for a shake.

  All three of them looked surprised and stilled completely, meaning that Sally’s hand hovered in the air as none of them moved to take it. Thankfully, it didn’t take long until the lone woman among the trio moved to shake it, and vigorously at that.

  “I know that name!” The woman, older than the other two man, although they were all past middle-aged, said with cheer and a ugh. “Didn’t recognize you! Last time I saw you, you were but a babe in Danny’s arms!”

  Sally blinked at that. “You knew my father?”

  “Of course! And Olivia too, and your sister Cally and all the rest of the Palters!” The woman excimed, still vigorously shaking Sally’s hand. “I was one myself after all! Page Midten, formerly Palters, good to see there’s someone still carrying the name!”

  Must’ve married right after I was born. She couldn’t recall anyone telling her about the woman. Still, Sally returned the smile, shaking the woman’s hand more earnestly now. “Always good to see another retive, especially after- well, you know.”

  The woman shared a commiserating smile. “Ai, that it is. How did you get out of that anyhow? Last I heard was the Palters’ Wardens were dead before everything went down?”

  Sally shrugged, not wanting to get too deep into it. “Fair bit of luck, I suppose. Strange things happening in the Circuits, especially tely,” Sally lifted her metal hand for them to see. “About time I get some good out of it.” Sally didn’t eborate, hoping they’d draw their own conclusions.

  They looked at her metal hand, surprise and fascination clear, though without the inquisitiveness like Paul and Urduja had shown.

  Before any of them could comment, Sally continued. “Anyway, can I go inside? I need to hear what’s going on. ‘Sides, got things to tell of my own.”

  The three of them started in response, then exchanged worried gnces with each other. Sally wondered what that was about, but since they were quick to agree, she let it slide. No doubt she’d find out soon enough.

  A moment ter, Sally was at the Vil’s front door and ushered inside.

  X

  To say Sally felt underequipped to tackle the meet would be an understatement. When Lucy and she had pnned out what to do in the Vil, it had been a pn measured in months. She had imagined the unification of the Vils would be slow going, a gradual forming of connections around her and reconnection between the Vils as a whole. The threat of the Leaguerans and their takeover of Cardinar would be the fulcrum to y the foundation of this unification and a useful connection to the Anteer cities on which they could build a sting alliance. Only after this would Sally have the standing to get the Vils to where she wanted them to be.

  But now, with the Grandies making their move? And with a greater threat out there to make their offer actually attractive? Sally would have to py this by ear, and Sally knew her diplomatic skills left a lot to be desired. Her recent episode with Urduja stood as proof of that.

  Still, needs must, she thought wryly. The words had almost become a motto by now.

  Entering the Vil and stepping into the common area – or the social area, or the meeting pce, or whatever one might call it – she was bsted by a wall of noise. People were yelling and shouting at one another, arguments flying alongside spit. Tempers had risen high it seemed, perhaps a hair away from turning violent outright.

  At a gnce, Sally figured there were at least a hundred to a hundred-fifty people present. Sally guessed that about fifty or so were from outside the Midten Vil; one Warden per vil, along with one representative and all the Communal Wardens combined would make up thirty-five at least. Add to that the hangers-on and the Midten themselves, and the rge room seemed cramped like never before.

  Sally pushed her way through to the center in order to join the discussion – if one could even call it that. Some tried to shove or even drag her back, but she powered through with ease, though with enough care to not bowl or drag people to the ground. If there was to be a riot, she didn’t want to be the one to start it.

  Once at the center, Sally was almost fbbergasted to see what was going on. The Wardens – both Vil and Communal – the representatives and various other people were all yelling at each other, faces read with exertion and anger. Here and there she even saw some people ying on the ground with bloody noses, grappling one another while others still were held back by friends to prevent them from throwing the next punch.

  The rge central table – an ancient one made long ago specifically for the meet – was littered with sheets of papers drenched in water from broken gsses and accompanied by the remains of thrown snacks and earthen bowls. The table’s accompanying chairs that normally surrounded the table had either been thrown to the ground or were missing entirely. She could see some of them lying broken on the floor, legs and back ripped apart or even wielded as weapons against their enemy kin.

  In short, it was pandemonium. Thankfully, it was constrained to the central table and the various Vil ‘elite’, undeserving of the term as they were. The regur Midten folk hadn’t joined in the fighting, instead visibly enjoying the spectacle for what it was.

  Not a riot, then, Sally thought, sighing internally from a combination of relief and exasperation. Just an arena.

  For a moment, Sally was unsure on what to do, on how to tackle this ordeal. She looked for people she recognized, but barring a few – Mikae, for one, arguing with whom she thought she remembered as the matriarch of the Darwesh – they were either forgotten, completely new or obscured by the throng of people.

  Sally became annoyed at the sight. She’d never witnessed it before, but Niall had told her stories about how important meets went. How everyone wanted to have their say, how people bickered over the right choice and others simply argued for the sake of it, or because they didn’t like the person saying it. But even then, such a spectacle as this seemed more out of a tale rather than reality.

  It was just another sign that something needed to change. She didn’t expect her people to be completely calm or take turns carefully ying out their position or anything, but she did want them to get to the point where they would get things done, and done quickly at that. Preferably, without demolishing their surroundings for improvised weapons.

  But in this division Sally also saw an opportunity. They were shouting and screaming at each other in disagreement on what to do, true, but the fact that passion had run so high meant the stakes were high and that they were willing to fight for something to be done. Hopefully, Sally could fit herself into this division and bridge both sides.

  With something of an idea formed, Sally jumped on the rge central table. She walked towards its center and put two fingers to her mouth, a sharp whistle filling the air a moment ter. The Midten surrounding the debate-brawl all looked at her, curious at the newcomer that would either interrupt or bring something new to tonight’s entertainment. They seemed mostly bemused at the attempt and she saw a few elbowing their companions and talking while pointing at her, afterward sharing a ugh.

  Of those notables duking it out, only a rare few looked up at her. Sally was met with a mix of questioning and annoyed eyes. Sally opened her mouth to address those, hoping the word would spread, but before she or anyone else could restart a conversation, those that had stopped to watch her were sucker-punched, jabbed, tackled or otherwise physically pulled back into the confrontation.

  Fine then, you want spectacle? Sally fumed, nostrils fring. I’ll give you a fucking spectacle.

  Sally drew the shotgun from her shoulder strap, flicked off the safety and aimed the firearm towards the stone ceiling. She pulled the trigger once, the bst deafening to anyone in the room as the sound bounced off the walls repeatedly. A few chips of grey matter rained down on her from the impact, sandy dust soon following.

  The Midten in the, for ck of better term, ‘outer ring’ of the debate all startled and refocused on her, but otherwise did nothing. No panicking, no running to get out the door while trampling each other, no nothing. They’d seen what happened, after all, and could guess at the purpose for which she’d fired the shot.

  The esteemed representatives, however, had no such insight, occupied as they were. They all ducked or dove for the ground in a split second. The Wardens’ instincts, honed by regur life-or-death encounters, dove with more expertise and drew their pistols after, taking aim at the new threat. Hell, some of them – a mix of the inexperienced juniors and overly-paranoid Communal Wardens – actually fired at her!

  Sally hadn’t expected it, but suppressed her instinct and allowed the bullets to hit her. She could tank them with ease after all, and while she was in a position where it was unlikely for anyone to get hit were she to dodge, she wouldn’t risk it. Even if it does hurt like hell.

  The noise of gunfire quickly faded once the paranoid and the panicked noticed what they were firing at, the smell of gunpowder beginning to fill the room.

  From what she could feel, five or so bullets had hit her torso while two caught on her left arm, breaking apart on the metal. Thankfully, none hit her head; she had little idea what would happen if they did. Probably the same as when her heart was torn out, but you never know.

  “Now that I have your attention,” Sally said, and if it sounded phlegmatic from her pierced long, nobody commented on it. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  Her words echoed through the now-quiet hall, but no-one seemed ready to answer the call.

  “Sally?” She heard someone say from her left.

  Shifting her gaze, Sally looked at the speaker, a familiar face greeting her along with the barrel of a gun. “Hey Desta, nice seeing you to,” Sally snarked.

  “You’re alive?” The man asked. Desta was a fellow junior Warden – though he might be senior by now – a few years older than her.

  “No thanks to all of you,” Sally returned, wriggling her finger through and out of one of the bloody bullet holes in her leather jacket.

  A small ugh unwillingly broke through Desta’s bewilderment, though it failed to shatter the confusion entirely. Both that of the man himself or the rest of the crowd.

  Sally focused on someone else, taking a second to search for the woman’s face before spotting it. “Mikae,” Sally began. “Met Urduja back at your Vil – nice girl, sorry to hear about Zoren though.” Sally saw the woman swallow in response, though no other response came.

  Sally turned back to the room, scanning the crowd but finding little point in continuing her attempt at greetings. So, she got to the point. “I heard some things about this meet. Real interesting things,” Sally began, raising her voice. “I heard about important deals that need to be negotiated as one Vil. About threats that we all need to deal with, or die trying. About pns for farther into the future, about what is to come and how we can best prepare for it.” Sally paused for a second. “But what do I find?”

  Sally made a show of looking around, arms spread and rotating to look at all sides of the table in turn. “I expected to be able to give my own input, to discuss my own troubles and put forth my own solutions. I expected people to be happy I returned, to tell me about what happened to them and to ask about what happened to me. But what do I find?”

  Once more, Sally’s eyes wandered the room. “And tell me, oh great men and women of the Vils, leaders and Wardens: what did I find?” She looked people in the eye one by one, her gaze sharp, angry and accusing. “Well?” Sally said, voice almost sinister. More than a few look away in shame, their guilt weaponized against them as Sally positioned herself central to the meet.

  “Answer me!” She yelled. “You were all so eager to talk just now, where the hell did it go?!” Again, they remained quiet.

  Good, Sally thought, time to drive it home. “I’ve travelled the Circuits from Cardinar, to Southwall, Keringa and Ancora! I’ve fought demons, both True and small and got burned for it, yet I’m still talking! I’ve got my heart ripped out by a cannibal, yet I’m still talking! I lost life and limb to those damned Erlings!” In a single fluid – and thankfully successful – move, Sally ripped off the left sleeves of her jacket and shirt. She held up the metal limb, showcasing it for all to see. “And I’m still talking! Not punching, not screaming in people’s ears or spitting in their faces. I’m still talking! What’s your excuse?!”

  With that, Sally sat down cross legged in the center of the table. Right in the center of the small puddle of blood, but she elected to ignore that; she was already bloody anyhow. In truth, Sally had all but colpsed, heavily suppressing shaky breaths from leaving her body by a partial fa?ade of anger. Bravado and adrenaline could only prop up her nerves so far, and the pain and blood loss also didn’t help, but she couldn’t show weakness, not yet. Thankfully, her wounds were quick to close.

  As the quiet stretched, Sally reviewed her speech. Did it make sense? Probably not, but hopefully the sentiment behind it showed through. Besides, it wasn’t like the people here were that big on logic, as proven by the broken chairs and bloody noses. Stating her accomplishments, ciming the center stage and domineering the conversation was probably more important than the words themselves.

  She did hope someone would pick up the buck, though. She didn’t have enough left in the tank to blurt out another semi-coherent speech.

  Eventually though, someone did. It was Mikae that cleared her throat and began to talk.

  “As I was expining before people started interrupting,” Mikae began. Some people to the right of Sally started making noise of protests, but a simple turn of her head seemed to shot them up. Convenient, Sally smiled inwardly, enjoying the feeling.

  “The Union made us an offer: their army will aid the Wardens in guarding the border, and in exchange we help them settle the nds outside of those directly controlled by the Vils.”

  “Why consider this offer?” Sally asked, to which Mikae bristled in response. Sally quickly held up a hand. “Let me rephrase: why was the offer made?”

  Understanding fshed through Mikae’s eyes. “A few months after the excursion, a group of Wardens – myself included – went along with a few Grandie Frontiersmen to scout north into Erling territory. At first, everything seemed to be about the same – primitive farms, bow-and-arrow scouts and hunters, the usual. But, one of our own spotted something wrong.”

  “There was no inter-tribe predation,” a gruff voice sounded. Sally turned to her left and spotted a familiar man: Philip Chaye, one of the older Communal Wardens here. “No roving bands, no extortion, no skirmishes, no nothing. Just settlers doing as they do without bother.”

  Generally, the Erlings came in two forms – or, at least, the Wardens divided them in two groups: raiders and settlers. The raiders moved in small groups with a ‘big man’ – either a warrior-chief or a shaman – leading them. They constantly competed against each other for territory, goods and access to the settled. It resulted in a never-ending yet small-scale war of a thousand tiny kings in a nd that stretched as far north as the Wardens ever got.

  The settlers were likewise self-expnatory: they were the farmers, craftspeople, hunters, trappers and much more. They were the ones the Erling raider-kings predated on, the prize for which they all competed. The settlers rarely left their territories and the Wardens practically never saw them outside of Erling nds, not even when raids of desperation began. After all, when resources were low, they were the first victims to the raiders and fell long before they got down to Vil territory. Those that did come down were usually groups of raiders driven off by rger, stronger groups of raiders that took what meager possessions they had, leaving them desperate enough to attempt such a risk.

  It was likely things were a more complicated than that, but seeing as there’s never been a way to engage with them diplomatically, the Warden’s never cared much to dig deeper. An attitude that might be catching up to them, if Sally could guess where this was heading.

  “So, we ventured on,” Mikae picked up where she left off. “For ten days and fifty miles at least, if not further. The farms grew denser and wider, with more Erlings tending to them, the usual. More importantly, we spotted a patrol – not one of raiders, but one would see the Anteer performing.”

  “They were decked out in metal armor and carried strange-looking rifles,” another familiar Communal Warden, Tarik – of the Ide Vil if Sally remembered correctly – interjected. “They walked around like overseers or guards, and the settled were familiar with them, like the Wardens are to their Vils. They even showed them respect and deference without fear.”

  “Pah!” An unfamiliar voice from a Vil-representative Sally didn’t recognize shouted. “We’ve been telling you this for decades: They’ve always been there!”

  “Never more than rumors, Walter!” The old matriarch of the Darwesh returned with as snarl. “We couldn’t act on hearsay!”

  “Well, here’s your proof, Muna,” Walter said, spreading his arms, “and it’s what I’ve always been telling: Erlings armed and armored further north, no doubt plotting something!” He crossed his arms again and gave a self-satisfied humph.

  “You see a shadow and you talk of demons,” Muna retorted with a snort. “This is not enough to just give away all our nds!”

  “They’ve never been this far south,” the senior Warden of the Shaye Vil, Cormac, added more calmly. “Never this close to our nds, and never without predation on settled Erlings. That is new and worrying.”

  “So what?” Cobus, the head of the Vrisse-Sonni, rebuked. “If they’ve never been a problem before, why would they now? If they’re willing to deal with the raiders for us, I’d say: let them!”

  “You think that those little demons-”

  “-They aren’t demons, you-”

  “-An Erling empire at our border, and you-”

  “-She’s right! Why should we-”

  “-And for how long do you-”

  “-A True Demon! It must be-”

  The meeting was devolving again, arguments starting up again among all sides at the Vrisse-Sonni’s head’s decration. Once again, Sally moved her fingers to her lips and whistled, praying she didn’t have to waste another round from her shotgun to quiet the crowd.

  Thankfully, things hadn’t become bad enough for people to ignore her. The room turned to her once again, willing to hear what she had to say.

  Sally cleared her throat. “Just so we all understand, and so I know I understand: the more advanced Erlings, maybe an empire, has started moving closer to us, which might help us deal with the raiders indirectly, but could also turn into a problem bigger than ever before. Right?”

  Sally looked around the room, receiving some grumbles and grunts in response, though none spoke up. She turned back to Mikae. “And now, back to the offer.”

  Mikae nodded. “They offered aid for aid: we help them settle the mountains and in return they help us hold it.” As soon as the grumbling started again, Sally raised her metal hand, forestalling any compints. Once more, they listened.

  Sally gave Mikae a nod to get her to continue. “What they really want though is the resources in those mountains. Iron, copper, gold, gemstones – you name it, they want it. They don’t care about the nd, or our flock or our homes; as long as we aid in getting them set-up and help them hold it, they’ll protect us in turn, even if just to protect their own interest,” the Zjevik-Ong Warden said, not without some annoyance. She might not want the deal, but it was clear to Sally the woman thought it was the best option.

  “Even so, foreigners in the heart of our mountains are not ideal. I know you don’t believe they’ll stick their nose out of things that don’t belong to them. So, why do you think this is a good deal?” Sally asked without judgment, despite her own opinion on the matter. “You wouldn’t have brought the offer if you thought otherwise.”

  This time, the senior Warden didn’t disguise her distaste, a grimace clear on her face. “What option do we have? A deranged shaman and their band of raiders caused, what? A fifth of all of us to die just to hold them off? We couldn’t even defeat them on our own – had to get help from the Grandies before they could really be dealt with! And even then, it still cost us two entire Vils!” Mikae stopped for a moment, catching her breath. “And now the same force that drove the mad shaman and their dogs to us in the first pce is at our doorsteps. How can we hope to defend ourselves against such a tide?” The grimace had been exchanged for a look of mencholy, memories of the dead, of those she held dear now lost no doubt flitting through her mind.

  Sally gauged the reaction of the room. Even if some might not agree to it, all were now at least sympathetic rather than outraged, and seemingly in agreement that what they had was not enough. Good, Sally thought.

  “A sentiment we all understand,” Sally replied, receiving nods from most of the room. “And yet, it seems a steep price to pay for something that might not come. And do they not already have a vested interest in their own defense? They already got all the nds west of the Gesker. Why should we pay more for a deal we’ve already got?” That got some further nods.

  “We don’t know how far the Erlings spread or will spread, be it now or in some far-off future,” Mikae argued back. “They’ve always come through the Gesker valley until now, but whose to say won’t come north of the Shaye next? Or the Midten or even Darwesh? We cannot gamble our lives, the lives of our children, our entire future on a past that’s now dead and buried.” From the mutterings Sally heard, that seemed to get more people onboard, even if reluctantly. Though the angry mutters of the more die-hard opponents to the deal increased as well.

  Now stuck between two choices no-one liked, Sally could offer a third. “If they can get so far as Darwesh, why limit ourselves to the Grandies?” The room quieted down instantly. “They demand everything from us because they believe we’ve got nowhere else to go. But what if that isn’t true? What if we can get help from others, make deals with others?”

  “Like who, the Anteer?” Someone, likely a Warden from the look of her, asked. “Aside from Ancora, none have the army for it, and I doubt the Ancoran’s will take on the effort on their own. They’ve always been satisfied with what they got.”

  Sally shook her head. “They’ll help us when it comes down to it, and we might even create something more permanent like an alliance if we ask. But no, the Ancorans were not who I had in mind.” Sally took a deep breath, and raised her voice for added impact. “Some time ago – I don’t know when – the Merkahn Republic made a move and practically annexed the entirety of the Green Circuit.”

  She allowed the stunned silence to continue for a moment before continuing. “What’s more, they’ve formed a settlement on Lake Majestic, an alliance with the Marshen of the Green, the city of Keringa and an unclear agreement with The Bite. They’re moving further and faster than the Grandies ever have, even getting ready to clear out the cannibals as we speak.”

  After some mumbling, it was Mikae that broke the silence once more. “The Bite – there’s still a lot of nd in between us and them,” the Warden said. “Would they even be interested in anything so far away?”

  “Less distance than you might think; they’ve already begun talks with the Ancoran Praesidium,” Sally replied. An overexaggeration, but one likely to come true by the time anyone could figure it out. “Besides, part of the reason they came so far was in order to kill the True Demon previously haunting the Green. I’m familiar with the Hunters – an organization of theirs simir to our Communal Wardens, albeit even more focused on prevention than static defense. Pitch this right and in cooperation with Ancora, and I believe we’ll get very far.” The decration drew some thoughtful looks from the crowd.

  “And how do we get Ancora at the table? Why wouldn’t they reject the Republic like we wish to do the Union?” Tarik the Communal Warden asked.

  Time to drop another bombshell. “Because we’re going to help them take back Cardinar from the Arcanists.” Sally stated it like there was no question about it.

  Of course, everyone started shouting in a mix of confusion and denials, and loud ones at that. Sally jumped up from her cross-legged position. “Do we not have a debt?!” Sally shouted, not needing to feign the outrage. “Who was there first when the Erlings and their hounds came down the mountains?! It wasn’t the Grandies, not even their cky Gadeon; it was the Anteer!”

  Her shouts drew the attention of the crowd, calming them down in doing so. “It has always been the Anteer that came to our aid whenever we needed it most. Since the first Vils were built, maybe even before they were built, it was the Anteeri that helped us. And in turn we’ve aided them with their troubles, creating an unbreakable bond over many generations. Why forsake them now?”

  “That was always for survival! This isn’t the work of demons, but people!” Someone shouted.

  “And why should this be different? The mages of the League are looking for things in our Circuits, things of foul magic and concerning the worst Demons of the Circuits!” The words reawakened her revetions from Lake Prior, the memories all but forcing her to spread them. “And in doing so, they risk their reawakening! Armies of Greysalt insects, walking corpses and cannibals, beasts that can swallow our Vils whole!” Shit, Sally thought, recognizing the misstep. She needed to salvage this. “It might begin with people, but what we’re talking about is survival! Not just for the Anteer, not just for us, but the entirety of the Grand Circuit!”

  The crowd increased in volume, shouts of disbelief and shock filling the Vil. “How do you know this!” Those words might not be said directly, but the sentiment was shared amongst everyone.

  Sally might’ve overpyed her hand, but she still answered truthfully and with full conviction. “Visions! I’ve received visions!”

  An overwhelming barrage of noise erupted. Mockery, ughter, anger, disgust, jeers; a cacophony beyond even the one that greeted her when she first walked in here, and all aimed at Sally alone.

  Despite the superstitions about the Ancestors, the Vils had always despised the magic and miracles of the Anteer and the rest of the world. They saw it as an ill upon the world, the thing that caused the Old to die and the New to suffer. That they allowed medicians to practice it, allowed the Anteeri to help them with it when necessary and espoused the Vils themselves as a form of ‘miracle’ from the Ancestors was a hypocrisy that only further fueled their distaste.

  Sally once more raised drew her shotgun and fired, thanking whomever remained in the torn heavens above she’d loaded two buckshot.

  While it did not shock the crowd as much the second time, enough of a gap in the noise had formed for Sally to turn the conversation around. “Do you not see the gifts I’ve received?!” Sally shouted, gesturing at her blood-soaked clothes and the crimson pool beneath her. “They are self-evident! Do you think I gained them from nothing?!” Sally shouted, the reminder quieting the crowd down.

  “I died back in Guha nds, in a gully watered with the blood of our battle, of our kin! And what did the nd, our nd do for me?” Sally began pacing around atop the table, spreading her arms demonstratively. “They revived me! And for what purpose would I be granted them than to combat our shared enemies!” No response came from the crowd.

  “Ancestor or Prophet, it doesn’t matter who blesses who or how – what matters is the purpose behind it! Empires east and west seeking wealth all over the Circuits, and the southerners pying with forces beyond their understanding!” Sally breathed heavily as the crowd stared at her in rapt attention.

  She forcibly calmed herself down somewhat. “Vil, Anteer, even Drover or Marshen, it doesn’t matter. For so long, we’ve been able to maintain ourselves, our culture, our soul in the harshest nds of the world. But now, like the rest of the world, change is coming to the Circuits, whether we want it to or not. All we can do is hope to direct its course.”

  “Now, will you help me engineer the course of this river?” Sally asked of the crowd. “Or will you allow it to swallow us whole?”

  Seeing no one react beyond a few murmurs, Sally went further and louder. “Will you succumb to these outsiders in fear? Or stand next to them with pride?!” The crowd became a bit more animated.

  And once more, even louder. “Do you wish to shame our Ancestors?!” Dismay and denial rose from crowd. “Or rise to the challenge, like they did?!” A shout of agreement. “Survive like they did!” A loud cheer, nearing a battle cry. “Strive like they did!” Even louder, lost in the momentum. “Unite like they did!” Without thinking about it they shouted their agreement.

  “Then that is what we’ll do!”