The click of commander Sten’s heel against the polished stone floor echoed through the hall. Torchlight flickered and lapped at the shadows as he descended the stairs, sending them fleeing to the far corners and crevices. Sten marched through, passing a pair of guards dutifully holding open a set of heavy wooden doors. They nodded, acknowledging his presence, and he entered.

Dim flames lit the edge of the chamber, enough to see the floor and walls, and little else. A large wooden table stood in the centre, bowing under the weight of the books, crystals, poultices and candles that littered it. Somewhere on the other side, hidden behind a large open tome, was chief adviser Wugo. To the right of the table was a stretcher. On it lay the body of a woman, her throat slit from ear to ear. A Senlin. Slight of build, her skin dark, a mess of auburn hair, matted and slick with dried blood. Her face blank, her eyes open and glassy; staring into nothingness. Another one lost, Sten thought.

He approached the table, removed his helmet and bowed. “You sent for me, excellency?”

“That I did,” came the reply. “It seems, commander, that we are losing more Senlin than we are obtaining. Need I remind you that emperor Hao is keen to begin the second expansion and acquiring such valuable resources are vital if we are to succeed.”

“I understand, excellency.”

“The process of conversion is harrowing, commander, for both myself and the recruit. For this expansion, I will need many more.”

“Of course.”

“The Senlin are a powerful people. Between you and me, commander, I would prefer them as allies. But we’ll take them as slaves if we have to.”

“I am also of that viewpoint, excellence.”

“Good to hear, Sten. No more males, though,” Wugo replied. A decrepit hand waved dismissively from behind the book. “Too weak. None survive the process.”

“Of course, excellency.”

Sten turned to leave, but the voice called him back.

“Oh, commander?”

“Yes, excellency?”

The hand gestured to him, summoning him to the desk.

“You may as well have this one's heirloom,” said Wugo. “She won’t be needing it anymore.”

Wugo stood with a grunt, joints creaking and clicking, and approached Sten with something in their hand. It was a small trinket, a carved wooden figure of a bear.

“From the mountain tribe,” mused Wugo. “It might come in handy on your next hunt.”

Sten looked down at the little wooden figure. The wood was dark and smooth; the details rubbed away after years of fondling. “Thank you, excellence. I’m sure it will.”

“You may go now, commander.”

Sten slipped the figure into his pocket and left.

-

The men were waiting for him, standing to attention, with enough decency to look remorseful for their failure. Sten inhaled and headed for his desk. Scrolls and sheets of paper lay neatly piled on its polished ebony surface; correspondence and bureaucratic miscellany. Settling on the carpeted floor, he shuffled some papers, pretending to inspect them, before looking up.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “please, take a seat.”

They obeyed, lowering themselves to the floor.

“I need not remind you,” said Sten, “that we are in short supply of hounds.”

One man answered, his expression suitably grave. “Forgive us, commander. We were on the trail of a female and we almost had her. We did not expect the second.”

“You should always expect the Senlin to travel in packs. Even the females.”

“Of course sir, but this one was fast. Too fast to even see. It took her before we could act. Without the hound, we couldn’t track them.”

Sten leaned forwards, elbows on the desk, and chin in his palms. “This will come out of your pay,” he said. One of them opened his mouth as if to protest the decision and was immediately elbowed by one of his peers. Smart move, thought Sten. This was the second loss of a hound in as many weeks. If he had any sense, he would’ve had them flogged in the square, make examples of them. At the rate things were going, there would be barely any hounds left for the next expansion effort.

“Ah, fuck.” Sten stood and paced alongside the windows. “The Senlin are a dying breed, gentlemen. We cannot afford to be wasteful with such valuable resources.”

“We can get this one, sir,” the man replied. “We know her patterns. We will be careful, we -”

“You also need to be patient,” Sten interjected. “Remember, this isn’t deer we are hunting. The Senlin are like us. They are cunning, skilled, and dangerous when cornered. You need to have your wits about you. And the hounds are not for fighting, they are for tracking.”

Sten stopped pacing and turned to face the men. “Did you use the new darts?”

“Yes, commander.”

“How were they?”

“I cannot say for sure, but as soon as we fired, she fell.”

“That is some good news, at least,” said Sten. “Very well. I am giving you a second chance.”

The man lowered his head. “Thank you, commander..”

“I will assign your team another hound, but I will not tolerate failure this time. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Report to me here at sunrise.”

The men left, each with a respectful nod as he exited. Sten watched them leave before turning back to the window. The expanse of the palace and its many halls, and the vast city beyond, met his gaze. The sun sunk into it, bringing with it a dark void where the stars should be. Since he’d lived here, he hadn’t been able to see the stars. It was if they only presented themselves to the country folk to spite the city’s inhabitants for utilising oil lamps. Who were they to judge, anyway? Sten tightened his jaw and exhaled. His thoughts settled on the young woman on the table. She looked so human, so much like any human woman. Besides the height and the clan tattoos, he never would have known she was a Senlin. It’s easier to pity monsters when they look so much like you, he thought. It’s how they’ve survived for so long.

He stared out of the window a little longer, waiting for the exhaustion to kick in, before heading to his private chambers.