“Cerid! Shit, we thought you were dead!” The woman approached and slapped his back hard. “But then, where’ve you been?”

“You see, well, that is…” Cerid fumbled.

“Can your friends explain?” the man asked mildly. “The ones hiding over there.”

Shark and Dorothea jumped, looked at each other, and sheepishly crept from their spot. “You caught us!” Shark gasped with mock surprise.

“I was in Sirpo,” Cerid explained, seeming to regain what little calm he was able to hold inside his body at one time. “My squadron and I suffered a Ghurian attack on the border. Afterwards, I fled to neutral lands to look for assistance.”

“Why not come back here immediately?” the woman, whom Cerid had addressed as Commander Nobelis, asked with a frown. “We could have helped you.”

“That is, well…” Cerid glanced at Dorothea, and she stepped forward, timid, to stand at his side. She was in front of actual superior officers in the Sacerian army, people who had killed and killed again. They barely looked older than her, yet their experiences were so different. Gods, it was unnerving and terrifying.

“He came for me, um, or for my magic, rather,” she said in a wavering voice, then cleared her throat. She had to get it together and present herself with authority so she wouldn’t get taken advantage of. “My name is Dorothea Atlin, leader of the Sirpoan people and final member of the Atlin line.” She bowed just slightly, respectful but not submissive. “Well met.”

The captain and commander stared at her with matching expressions of shock. Then the woman laughed. “Well, Creed… Ya done good on this one.”

To make herself clear, Dorothea stated quickly, “Sirpo was attacked by a Ghurian soldier this morning. That’s my main motive for coming here.”

The commander’s eyes grew wider. “An attack on neutral territory? Fucking Ghurian rats. But why would they…” She focused on Dorothea’s face. “I see. We have a lot to talk about.”

“And you brought back a deserter, too,” the male, logically the one called Captain Tamlin, then, stated quietly with a nod at Shark.

“They’re not a Sacerian deserter,” Dorothea noted, taking care to keep her tone level, “but rather a Sirpoan citizen. Please mind the difference.” The penalty in the warring lands for running away without permit to enter Sirpo was death. Honestly, she was terrified someone would snatch Shark away for punishment when she wasn’t looking.

The man smiled. “I was joking.”

Dorothea wanted to glare but managed to keep her face blank. It wasn't something to joke about. “I see. My apologies.” She took hold of Shark’s arm.

“Either way, we’ve got a lot to discuss.” The woman pointed to herself. “Iree Nobelis. Nice to meet you.” Her finger turned to the man. “That’s Rhys Tamlin. You all should follow me. No time to waste.” She paused. “Actually, no. Creed, Olyen, you come with me.” Shark jumped, but Iree just grinned before continuing. “Atlin, you stay with Rhys. Give her the tour, will ya, Rhys? Seems I’ve got a council meeting to call. We’ll all meet up in my office later when that’s done, ‘kay?” She smiled invitingly, putting Dorothea somewhat more at ease. Still, none of it sounded like a request. She got a strong feeling that Iree Nobelis was not to be trifled with.

“It’s...fine,” Dorothea said hesitantly, looking at Shark. They smiled to reassure her and were promptly dragged away, leaving Dorothea alone with a person who had already not made the best first impression. Besides, why worry about something as mundane as a tour when Sirpo might be in danger? There was no choice, though; it was too important to get into these people’s good graces, so she’d do as she was told. While Shark, Cerid and Iree receded onto dirt streets, she turned reluctantly to her host. “May I ask what she’s going to talk to them about?”

“You never know with Iree,” he replied with that same mixed tiredness and amusement. “For now, just follow me.” He took a few steps before looking back over his shoulder. “Relax. You’re safe here, and your people will be fine. Ghurians never come back for a second strike in one day after retreating once already.”

Dorothea nodded. “Thank you. That’s reassuring.” Not really.

He nodded back and kept walking, keeping a slow pace probably for her sake. They passed under a latticed wooden arch that served as the entrance. Vines of white and purple clematis—Dorothea had never gotten to see the flower outside of a book of pressed plants brought from the outside and then tucked into Sirpo’s public library—intertwined and ascended to form a dappled mass.

“Wow…” Dorothea took a moment to sniff at one of the flowers and then turned to see Rhys smiling at her. “What is it?” she asked, embarrassed.

“Nothing. But it’s nice, isn’t it? I don’t take the time to notice it too much.” He looked at the flowers as if never having really seen them before. “You must not get to see these things. If you live near them, it’s harder to appreciate somehow.”

Dorothea scrutinized him, reevaluating her opinion. He had an easy smile and brown hair that curled a bit at some of the ends. Bangs fell over his face into gray eyes. A loose ponytail tied with black ribbon fell over his right shoulder, and he tugged on it now. He seemed sincere enough, and surely he wouldn’t have gotten to his high position if he couldn’t be trusted?

“Captain Tamlin? May I ask you a question, please?” Dorothea said slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase things in the least offensive way possible.

“Just Rhys is fine. And of course, ask me anything.”

“Rhys, then. Pardon me, but I have to admit that I’m still very anxious. I don’t mean to question your commander’s judgement, but is a tour really the best idea right now?”

He was nodding. “No, no, I can see where you’re coming from. You heard Iree say she had to call a council meeting, right? Before making a deployment of any kind, we have to get the council’s permission. While that’s happening, Iree will be making her plan of attack. By the time we get the go-ahead, she’ll give us orders and we’ll be off.”

“I see. Thank you for explaining.” It sounded like a waste of time. As an expert in wasting time, she would know.

“I’d try to not worry and conserve your energy for now. You’ve had a tiring trip.”

Self-conscious, Dorothea touched her sleeve to her upper lip, where sweat still beaded in fat droplets. “Yes, thank you.”

Rhys looked at her, seeming to consider something. “In fact, let’s make this a thoroughly abbreviated tour. Just one place and then I can take you somewhere to actually catch your breath. Sound okay?”

Her hero. “Yes, of course. Your consideration is very much appreciated.” It was hard to keep her dignity about her with everything considered, but she attempted.

Rhys led her to what looked like a drab castle spire, a cylindrical structure of dark brick that reached above the ivy-blanketed wall that she now noticed encircled all of Springen except for the open archway of the entrance. The spire was built into and reached above the top of the wall, culminating in a windowed room and a tiled, pointed roof that cut with severity into the sky. Obviously, the wall was for some kind of protection or reassurance, but the spire?

“Is that a watchtower?” she asked, feeling dumb. Then again, she came from a place where they didn’t have to watch out for anything.

Rhys nodded. “Exactly. We’re going to the top.”

Dorothea froze. “The…very top?”