Over the next eight days Elara was involved in more high-level strategy and information meetings that she had experienced in the previous eight months since her joining of The New Becoming Collective. It became immediately apparent that the plans going forward hinged almost entirely on the utilisation of arcane flora, Thanborn having convinced the others of its potential for the catalysation of revolution. And those who had been unsure before were quickly brought on board after seeing the mutated geranium in the east wing backup storage room. Elara agreed with the principle of the power of arcane flora. They were one of the only sources of what could be called 'magic' in all of Oros, and they had been wielded to fierce, devastating, world changing, effect further back in Oros' history. And, as their resident expert on arcane flora, it looked like they had no choice but to bring her further into the fold. To trust her proper.

  Thanborn had already started work on the logistics surrounding the heist of the flora seeds in Attekant City. At the first secret meeting, it was discovered that the plans were nearly complete, raising unspoken questions as to how long he'd been devising this scheme. Still it meant less work for the rest of them. By the eight day mark, they were making final arrangements for disembarking on the tenth day. Their contacts in Attekant, whom the travellers were to meet with to carry out the mission, had been notified by messages delivered by the groups' most trusted messenger bird, a beautiful, power-blue amur falcon named Fletcher.

  On the twelfth day, they set out on their perilous journey. Elara had experienced a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, particularly over the final days: An initial stress and intrigue at the first meetings, then pride and excitement when discussing her knowledge of the flora with the eagerly-listening Grand Dukes (even Thanborn had begun to show her more respect), anticipation over seeing the Ghost City of Tom Stemme for the first time (as she had initially been brought to the Sanctuary of the New Becoming wearing both blindfold and cloak), and finally, an acidic fear whenever she thought about the robbery itself. She was a scientist after all, not a warrior, not a burglar. But the cause was just, and she had a duty to fulfil.

  They walked quietly through the small doors at the lower south entrance of the building. Immediately a shock of both cold and light pierced their senses in equal measure. After gathering herself, Elara looked back up at the hideout they'd lived in these past eight months. She had been told some time ago that it was previously an enormous coaching inn, as evidenced by the large number of rooms, but she'd never seen it from an outside view. Waiting for them on the shaded, empty street were two small carriages built from inexpensive wood, each drawn by tired-looking horses. There was space for no more than the four of them, as intended.

  Jidae, the party leader, opened the side door of the first carriage and slotted her pack into the hidden seat compartment, before stepping back down and taking the reins from the waiting stableman. She stopped still in her motion and turned. 'Come, Knight, you're riding with me. Put your shit in the back and then get up here. We're on a schedule.'

  She was smiling but her words were said as a stern order. Elara jumped-to and followed the instruction. Soon they were moving through the cobbled streets of Tom Stemme. Even though they spent the first fifteen minutes of the journey flanked by tall, stately buildings, the world seemed so much bigger than it did eight months ago. Everything in Tom Stemme seemed to be built from the same ash-coloured stone, save for the tapestries and flags and cloths adorned in burgundy-brown and black - the colours of the Haemonine realm. Little was taught of Tom Stemme during Elara's education, as the curse on the City was said to reach even those who simply talked of it, but she knew it resided high in the mountains, underneath the sharp peak of The Helgen Mor, Haemonine's highest summit, and that the city was itself wrought upon steep rolling hills.

  After a few minutes more, they came to a clearing, and to their right the city unfurled itself. It was so clear in the thin, clean air of the mountains that Elara thought she could see every tile of every roof. It seemed impossibly big, a remnant of another world entirely. Crumbling Mansions and cracked towers shadowed whole streets with their presence. The grey-white stone glowed like a full moon, a stark backdrop for the beautiful, pointed poplar trees that grew in waving lines all across the city. The far borders, most of which were occluded by the hills of the city, were marked by a squat ring of peaks capped with shimmering snow. Elara noticed that the sight of it all caused even the famously-staunch Jidae to take in a deep breath.

  But, despite it's magnificence, Elara understood now how it earned its new name. It used to be known as the Honourable High City of Figmon, before it was given its new moniker, Tom Stemme, meaning 'Empty Voice' in the shared Orosian language. There was an awful stillness that soaked through the beauty. Not just silence, but absence, one which could be sensed beyond the gentle rhythmic squeaks and groans of the carriage.

  Elara turned away after it became too much, and as she did so, noticed Jidae's mousey-brown hair had been swept backwards by the mild breeze, revealing fading ink markings behind the ear depicting a wheel, with small stars between the spokes.

  'You were Collosean?' Said Elara quietly, cautiously.

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  'A long time ago.' Said Jidae. Her eyes remained focused on the bobbling road as she spoke.

  'Sorry. I sometimes think out loud, it's something I'm trying to work on.'

  'You need not apologise to me, lest you desert or deceive.' At these words the two of them locked a gaze for a second. Elara noted how her the pale skin matching the stone of the city. It stretched over prominent cheekbones, and blushed red slightly near her thin, pointed nose protruding above a thin-lipped mouth. 'Anyway, I prefer boldness, it is usually married with honesty, and thinking out loud suggests you have little to hide.'

  Elara hadn't expected Duke Jidae to be this talkative nor this formal. The stories she'd been told of Jidae's exploits had painted her as a stoic who saw little benefit in words rather than actions.

  'How long is the journey, would you say?' asked Elara.

  'Five days of careful travel to Attekant. One evening of orientation with our contacts. Then-'

  'Then the raid?'

  'Yes.'

  'Do you feel it's not a good idea?'

  'I do as instructed by the Aarch Royal.' Said Jidae curtly. But, after some time, spoke up again. 'But I do not think seizing as many different arcane flora, particularly by these means, is the wisest course.'

  'She seems troubled,' thought Elara, 'though she hides it well.'

  Jidae continued: 'News of a raid on the seed vault will spread all accross Oros. It will reach our enemies as they sit in their gilded state rooms. Even if we manage to leave enough convincing evidence to associate it with the Colloseans, as is planned, eyes will be turned on us, on all the factions that have been driven underground for the crime of wanting a better Oros. A united Oros.'

  They both sat in silence for a long time, until Jidae said one last thing on the matter. 'But if it must be done, we must do it with grace and honour.'

  The convoy eventually left the city and headed north towards Attekant, sticking to smaller roads residing at the higher altitudes in the peaks, ones made of uncertain terrain with sheer drops of some five hundred metres flanking the sides. At some intervals, the paths even neared the Aulentoshen line - the straight border to the east that divided the Collosean and Haemonine territories all the way from the Triskellion Valley to the Southernmost tip of Oros. It was all necessary though, as they met few others over the first four days of travel. The weather was good to them, the sky remaining cerulean during the day with the only clouds to be seen being small tufts that wrapped the highest ridges like scarves.

  On the fourth day, they reached the first military check point as expected. 'The cover is intentionally simple.' Thanborn had said a week ago, 'Simplicity means less opportunity for error. You are nomadic cabriolets, long distance taxi drivers who travel between towns across Oros seeking work as transporters of people of modest income. These checkpoints see these types of travellers every day, to see you come along would be routine, boring.' As they neared the line of guards standing before a wooden barricade built onto the road, Elara circulated their story in her mind.

  'You already know to remain calm.' Jidae had said that morning. 'What's more important is to act indifferent. Look them in the eye and act like you see nothing of import. It'll make them look away to protect their ego.'

  'You've done this before?' Elara had queried.

  'Many a time.' Was the reply.

  A stout, older Haemonine soldier walked up to them with a straight wooden board in hand. 'Papers of residence.' He said pleasantly. He had a burgundy sash draped over a black tunic with a cream trim.

  'We're cabriolets.' Jidae announced, matching his eyes, and with a jauntier accent than usual. 'No residence to be had. There are two of us. Myself, my Neice here, and behind us my Husband and his Brother.'

  'Couldn't do what you guys do.' Said the soldier passively. 'Can't say I remember seeing these two carriages before though, nor the folks on them.'

  'We usually stick to the west coast and North.' Offered Elara.

  'Fair enough.' The soldier was now inspecting the underside. He stood straight again. 'All looks okay wi- say, what's that on your neck?'

  Elara froze. Had he seen Jidae's forgewheel tattoo? Jidae pulled her hair back casually, revealing unmarked skin. Elara breathed again. She must've applied some powder earlier. It was obvious now - someone of Jidae's experience doesn't make those mistakes.

  'My mother had a necklace just like that!' Exclaimed the soldier. 'She lost it years ago though. Shame.' He went off to inspect the other carriage. Elara sat in silence, studying the Creeping Phlox shrubs growing out of the impasse walls.

  Suddenly, raised voices could be heard behind them and Jidae disembarked with a flash. Elara grew more anxious with each second as she heard the lilting of heated discussion behind her. Was there any chance of escape from here? There must be ten men standing at the checkpoint, all now at the ready after hearing the noise. If she climbed the walls she'd be shot down by striker crossbows. How far could she make it if she ran back up the road? Sweat started to soak her undershirt and the roots of her platinum blonde hair. Then, out of nowhere, Jidae rejoined her on the carriage, and a cry to let them through was heard.

  After they'd passed the wooden checkpoint, and were far clear of the soldiers, Jidae spoke up, the jaunty tones returning to the clear sternness. 'Trouble at the back. The soldier didn't like the look of Callask it seems.'

  'How come they let us go?' Asked Elara.

  'I gave him my necklace in exchange for allowing us passage.'

  'Oh so it wasn't worth too much?'

  'It was worth a great deal. To me at least. But we can't deviate.'