Sanctum Polis - Polite Soldier

The Polite Soldier

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Sacris intelligentium by the Grace of the Goddess Of the Great Nation of Sanctum Polis and the Sacris Gentium Alliance Defenders of the Faith of the Ordem Solaris

Gallus 2, 1698

This document is an excerpt from a Drumagendry propaganda novel recovered by the Sacris Intelligentium in 1645 Apoth, entitled “Not So Polite Soldiers.” It was used to garnish anti-Sanctum sentiment and teach humans how to read. The events of the novel take place in Jubartha, the newly found capital of Jubarun after it was united by the Sacris Gentium just before the War of Old and New.

Written By: Adrian Madriz, Luis Velasco, & Gabriel Trujillo

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++++++++++ Chapter 1 ++++++++++ By every conceivable measure, Commodore Grant Zaccai was the best soldier in the Polite Army.

He was a stocky built bobcat who was tall for his race. He graduated at the top of his class from the academy. His military career commenced as a commanding officer and was inevitably placed in charge of its most decorated company of soldiers. Meeting every objective and never refusing a mission, he gave you the impression that he was a grizzly war enthusiast, more comfortable in the company of his swearing compatriots than in civilized spheres. However, he excelled in both environments, often times attending the Army’s numerous balls and Coron Class gatherings, working up a spectacle of charm and wit after a rousing evening of stiff drinks and impolite conversation with the gents. Though the conventional wisdom maintained that no one could be all things to all of sonnenkind, the commodore was the one most likely to prove it wrong. More than the sum of his parts, no single sonnen could be credited as much as he with the successful defense of the alliance. Given all of this, it begs the question: Why did everyone in the Sacris Gentium hate him?

Note: The Sacris Gentium was an alliance between the nations of Sanctum Polis, Lupanth, and Jubarun. The Sacris stated that Sanctum Polis would remain in political and militant power over Lupanth and Jubarun until such a time that they deemed the nations stable enough to rule themselves. However, they used the frequent skirmishes with rebel groups as an excuse to extend their reign of power over the two nations. Elected officials from Sanctum Polis known as Representatives of the current Chair of the Zodiac were present in all nations, but those in Lupanth and Jubarun held a status equal to a President. The Zodiac are the 12 leaders of Sanctum Polis and each year a single sonnen among them becomes the Chair who reigns supreme for that year. After the War of Old and New, Serpin and Corvia joined the Sacris Gentium. The alliance was rewritten to allow Jubarun and Lupanth to have governmental independence, but banned all forms of militant power to present in those nations. All problems requiring militant force would be handled by the newly established, global Sacris Army which included the might of Serpin, Corvia, and Sanctum Polis.

A cynical creature would be tempted to blame it on transparent envy. The commodore was as much a public figure as he was a soldier, and it doesn’t beg credulity to surmise that perhaps, yes, the sonnen who has everything is always being scrutinized by the ones who do not. But in fact, the creatures of the Sacris Gentium were not entirely unjustified in their malcontent. But regardless, the commodore managed to maintain his image within the walls of Sanctum Polis, arguably where that image mattered most.

In a time of relative peace, the commodore and his company of soldiers were tasked by the representative of the chair in Jubarun, a sonnen named James Helmer, with transporting the freshly picked produce from the outskirts of Jubartha on the other side of the narrow strait to the Sacris Silos within the city walls. The route from the farming villages to the silos cut through one of the poorest areas of the alliance called Caletheral, though known colloquially as the The Spits, both because the majority of the settlement was built on the narrow straight of land that connected the northern and southern regions of the island but also because the majority of

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the sonnenkind living there were mostly Sirenians — the herbivorous tribal locals of Jubarun, a stark contrast to the mostly mainland canines, bears, and felines of the Polite leaders and army.

Most of the aggressive Pinniped locals had been exterminated during the unification of Jubarun, leaving only this docile and easily manipulated race.

The sonnenkind living here knew very little of excess and luxury, and very much of poverty and sacrifice. This was the case with most of the settlements outside the capital walls. It was curious how an alliance which was considered sacred could maintain such extravagant excess in its capital, while the rest of the territories starved. Nevertheless, those sonnenkind unlucky enough to find themselves in The Spits worked hard for their new rulers and found a way to persevere.

However, their situation was made unnecessarily unpleasant by Commodore Zaccai’s company, who reveled in teasing the peasants of The Spits by transporting the cart, filled to the brim with fruits, vegetables, nuts, and legumes in the open air for all to see and smell, but not to touch or taste. It was especially frustrating to the peasants for they would frequently find themselves with hungry young and starving bellies. This was not lost on the commodore who felt they deserved their lot in life and would often shout from the top of the cart such necessary statements, as, “Oh Great Goddess! This yield smells divine! It’s unfortunate that no one in The Spits can have any!

Such a shame, better work harder peasants! One day, when Solaris sees it fit to forgive you for your misguided beliefs, She might even let you get to be where I am, and instead of looking up, you’ll be looking down.” The rest of the commodore’s company would gleefully join in the melee of taunts and teases. “The citizens of the capital will be so pleased to eat this bountiful harvest that you all have so graciously provided!” and “Cannot wait to try the blackberries! Any more time on the bush and they would have probably burst from their juicy ripeness!”

But there was always one soldier who would ride on the back of the cart, his feet hanging off the bench, and he would mostly abstain from the commodore’s example. Though his face was always hidden behind his helmet, a casual observer could see that the expression he was making was very different than that of the other soldiers.

On this particular delivery, the courtyard was empty. No doubt most of the peasants had familiarized themselves with the routine by then and knew to avoid the square on the days when the delivery was being made, lest they had to deal with the soldiers and their infantile antics. They also knew that the penalty for even attempting to steal an item off the cart was an undesirable meeting between their pelt and Commodore Zaccai’s rapier.

Caletheral itself looked like the leftovers of a once prominent metropolis, most of which had been claimed by the sea thanks to the explosions set off during the unification of the islands. Indigent sonnenkind lined the nooks and alley ways of Caletheral and could have easily been mistaken from afar as garbage that had piled up in the city’s rubble. One of them lingered on the steps of the near-ruined temple. He was drawn to the cart by the smell of the acorns and walnuts, a

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completely understandable reaction from a dugong who appeared at least 3 weeks removed from his last meal of substance. At his side was his pet named Fluff, which was a red furred moof, a local common breed of creature used as pets.

Note: Moofs are a kind of small, domesticated, round creature that from afar resembled a puffed up dandelion of colored fur the size of a small melon. They have axolotl-like external gills, two tiny dots for eyes, four barely visible feet, and two long frilled tails like a goldfish. Moofs come in a variety of colors and release a sweet scented oil that increases their fur’s vibrancy when exited or happy.

Luck would shine upon them that day as one of the acorns came loose from the restraints, bounced a few times on the courtyard’s stone tiles, and rolled over to the dugong as though it had picked its consumer. The moof was also very excited at the site of the acorn, jumping with merriment and yipping innocently. But before the wary sonnen could even think to bend down and pick up the acorn, he felt the sensation of cold steel making contact with his scruff.

The commodore dismounted his longma and stepped towards the impecunious trash with haste, placing his rapier’s edge just below the dugong’s neck—the sounds and sweet scent the moof released had given the destitute dugong’s intentions away.

Note: Longmas are green scaled, horse-like beasts of burden with long thin legs and thick golden-yellow manes.

Longma’s have a singular horn on their forehead that splits into several points and it is said that the more points their horn has, the longer that Longma will live a healthy life.

“Stealing from the Sacris I see?” Zaccai sneered.

The dugong looked up from the acorn that he had imagined disappearing into his mouth. His sparse hair began to stand on its ends. His left eye was gashed and sealed shut and he wore dirtied, tattered clothing. A line of drool made its way from his lip to the ground. Fluff hid behind him, its eyes peeking through the dugong’s legs.

“Not at all Ser, I merely aimed to retrieve it for you,” he exclaimed, but as his stomach began to rumble he paused. “Ser, it has fallen to the tiles, surely this would not be fit for the plate of a Coron.”

Note: In the Sacris Gentium, outside of church officials, there was a class system placed on Lupanth and Jubarun similar to the statuses held within Sanctum Polis. The tribal locals and poor were classified as third class citizens but often called indigents, among many other insults. The working class that conformed to the standards of Sanctum Polis were known as the Scionites, Scion Class, or second class citizens. The wealthy were the Corons, Coron Class, or first class citizens. This reflects the walls within Sanctum Polis; North and South Scion Polis, Coron Polis, and Inner Sanctum Polis which was reserved for Ordem Solaris Bishops, Eparchs, Arch-Bishops, Arch-Eparchs, members of the Zodiac, and their families.

The commodore started to circle the repugnant dugong and smiled, “Wisdom from an indigent Written By: Adrian Madriz, Luis Velasco, & Gabriel Trujillo

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dugong! Were it not for the vicious cycle of poverty he finds himself in, he could very well be a Coron! What is your name, indigent?”

“K-Kai, good Ser” the dugong stuttered, still uncertain of his situation.

Zaccai then addressed the company on the cart. “Take Kai and make sure he is a recipient of the finest care.”

Kai sighed and Fluff began to jump up and down in relief. Their fortunes had finally changed.

The entire company got off the cart, with the exception of the soldier riding in the back. They picked the dugong up and dusted him off. The commodore turned and addressed Kai again.

“What an adorable moof you have, may I see him?”

Kai, hesitant at first, decided to pick up Fluff and handed him to the commodore. “Okay, but please be gentle. He’s my only friend!”

“Perish the thought!” The commodore remarked jovially as he took the moof. It licked his face and happily danced around in Zaccai’s arms releasing a deep aromatic scent. “Oh, you are just the friendliest of creatures, aren’t you?”

Then, it happened in a flash. The commodore placed Fluff on the ground and under his iron boot.

Fluff began to whimper as a look of horror consumed Kai’s face.

“No! Don’t hurt him!” Kai shrieked.

The commodore spoke indifferently, “Unfortunately, someone has to pay for the theft of the acorn from the Sacris cart. So you can choose. The moof. Or you.”

The company pushed the dugong to the ground and held his face to the tiles. Kai attempted to speak out of the side of his mouth, “But it fell off the cart!”

The commodore continued, “Choose.”

Kai, knowing that the commodore was cold enough to follow through, made the most difficult decision of his life. “My Fluff.”

Without hesitation, the commodore raised his iron boot and brought it down on the moof, crushing it instantly. The scent of blood and the moof’s previously sweet aroma mixed noxiously in the air.

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Kai couldn’t even take time to react to the death of his pet as the company began to beat him with their maced gloves and iron boots. He attempted to flee, but to no avail. He was weak and frail, and was more so after this encounter. He pleaded to the commodore, “Please, I chose! You said you would let me go!”

The commodore feigned concern as he walked over to the dugong, his head being held up by one of the soldiers. “I was. Except that now, we have the problem that you’ve subjected your pet to insonnen cruelty. Something must be done to rid you of these demons.”

Zaccai raised his sword. “Perhaps these are the kinds of demons that only a blade can exorcise?”

He began to swing. Kai, bloodied and bruised, winced in anticipation.

“ACTUALLY,” a voice called from behind them. “A few sprinkles of Goddess’ Tears and some incense should be plenty.”

The commodore looked around to see who was making the suggestion, “Who dares to defend this indigent?”

The comments appeared to have come from a hooded priest who had made his way out of the nearby temple. He addressed the commodore. “I did Ser. I am a priest of the Ordem.”

The commodore furrowed his brow. “Is that so? The Eparch failed to notify me that she had ordained an exorcist, let alone a new priest.”

The priest made his way over to the dugong and without looking at the commodore he scoffed, “Well, she did.”

The commodore was unable to see the priest’s face or race under the thick cloak and shade of his hood. The priest, for his part, apparently saw fit to ignore the commodore’s authority of the situation. Around the square, other sonnenkind began to peek out from their windows and doors to see what the commotion was about.

The priest brought out a pail and an aspergillum and began to sprinkle the dugong with Water of the Sun, a sacred liquid said to be blessed by Solaris herself, also known as Goddess’ Tears. In the same motion he burnished a thurible and surrounded the dugong with incense.

“The demon has been expunged.” The priest remarked without a glance.

The commodore was not convinced, “I do not recall seeing this version of the ritual in the Book

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of Solaris’ chapters on ceremonial services. Do you take me for a fool, Father?”

“Would you like to see the demon?” asked the priest.

Commodore Zaccai decided to humor the situation, “Naturally.”

The priest pulled an object out of his back pocket and handed it to the commodore. “Very well.

You’ll need to focus your gaze through this sacred demon lens.”

The commodore held the object up to the light and was slightly confused. “This is a mirror.” He said flatly.

“Correct,” said the priest.

Before the commodore could react, the priest punched the mirror, slamming it into the Commodore’s snout. In the same motion he spun the thurible around violently, unleashing a fog of incense.

The smoke was so thick, neither the commodore nor his company could see.

When it finally cleared, the dugong and the priest were gone.

“It seems we are to bury a priest today.” The commodore claimed as he regained his sight, shaking the small shards of glass off his maw. He stormed back to his longma, mounted it, and proceeded to address his company. “Search the square. Find them!”

The soldier riding on the back of the cart finally stepped down and hurried over to the commodore.

“Commodore, Ser!” He shouted bowing slightly.

The commodore turned to face him, “Captain, stay your question and join the others. We must hurry if we are to catch these Spits jesters.”

“Ser, if I may,” the captain signaled Zaccai using a known sign for needing to speak of sensitive matters. Reluctantly, Zaccai leaned down to hear what the captain had to say. “Ser, the delivery is due by midday, and we have lost considerable time as it is. Consider your pending promotion and how another less than punctual delivery will reflect on it.”

Commodore Zaccai ground his teeth. Never in his time policing the streets of the Sacris Gentium had he been subjected to such trickery, and in front of so many witnesses. However, the captain

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in this instance had a point. Representative Helmer had been disqualifying his praise as of late with remarks about tardiness. Tardiness which was usually due to Zaccai succumbing to fits of rage that often ended in the deaths of a few third class citizens. Not that the representative really cared about the indigents, but still, killing them meant less productivity in the fields. For the commodore’s promotion, that could have meant settling for Vice Admiral instead of Admiral.

However, none of that was the captain’s concern.

“That is bold of you, Captain, to bring up my promotion. Is this a lackluster attempt at blackmail?”

The captain was contrite, “No Commodore, I was just—” “Good.” Zaccai interrupted. “I would hate accuse you of opportunism when you know you live to serve Solaris and country.”

“Of Course Commodore, my apologies for any unintended disrespect.”

The commodore paused for an interlude looking to see if he could spot the transgressors before shooting the captain a scrutinizing glance. “Very well. Fall in and prepare for arrival.”

From afar the captain could see the priest staring back at him from a distant roof top, silently and defiantly. After what had just transpired, never before had the captain been so intrigued by another sonnen’s actions. He could have notified Zaccai of the priest’s location; however, a strange feeling overtook him and instead, he elected to exercise his discretion.

++++++++++ Later that night, a candlelit glow emanated from the stained glass of the temple. Inside, the dugong was fighting for dear life. The soldiers’ beating had left him with mortal wounds. He was lying down in a cot by the altar. His body was in the throes of pain, but all he could think about was the loss of his beloved pet.

“My Fluff,” he cried. “My poor little Fluff.”

Kai’s mother was kneeling at his side, hands clasped on the dugong’s abdomen as she muttered an indiscernible prayer, while some other sonnenkind of The Spits lined the pews and the altar of the seemingly forsaken temple. It had once been built to honor the elements and the moon deity of the Eimalin religion, the now demonized Lunus, God of the Humans as claimed by the Ordem Solaris. The temple had been converted by the Ordem, but after the walls went up in Jubartha, Caletheral was all but forgotten. The wooden planks that once covered the holes caused by the bombs had begun to rot and many of the artifacts from the temple had been stolen. Some faces in the crowd were sad, others angry, but most, simply exhausted.

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Next to the dugong and across from his mother was Shaman Calgerun of The Spits, a somewhat mystical otter who had his paws placed on the dugong’s heart. He addressed the mother, “His will is fading. There is not much time.”

Kai’s mother merely closed her eyes and released the well of tears she had allowed to collect.

Calgerun continued, “There is only so much I can do with what I have. These wounds are too deep to heal with my current mixtures.”

A shadowy figure started to come down the side aisle of the temple carrying a bowl with a wooden spoon. When the creature came into the candlelight it was clear that it was a human male. It looked extremely malnourished, even more so than The Spits’ indigents, and wore rags for clothing. His teeth were stained a yellowish black. He also wore a metal collar that hung a little large around his neck. The human handed the bowl to the mother and grunted, indicating that he was ready for the next order.

Note: Before the Human Equality Act (HEA) of 1704, humans were treated as less than third class citizens.

They were often kept uneducated and served as slave labor for sonnenkind of all classes. Their treatment varied depending on their owners, but many human sympathizing sonnenkind and believers in the Old World traditions worked to help bring humans to an equal standard of living.

“Thank you, William,” she said to the human as she passed the bowl to the shaman. “Now fetch me the bottle of alcohol on the top shelf near the foyer with a clean cloth. And be quick about it.”

The human smiled his dark and crooked smile, grunted, and then galloped over to the temple foyer, his collar clicking and clacking every step of the way.

Outside the temple it began to rain. The priest stood at one of the window wells, where the stained glass had caved, and looked out to the courtyard. He watched as the sonnenkind of The Spits spent yet another night in the melancholy wake of tragedy.

“The temple appears to be dryer outside than it does inside.” The priest heard a voice from behind him say.

The priest turned around and was face to face with a Polite soldier. He readied himself into a defensive stance.

“Don’t be alarmed,” assured the soldier. “I am not here to arrest you.”

The priest recognized this soldier as the one who sat on the back of the cart.

“Then why do you torment us with your presence?” barked the priest.

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The soldier gave him a curious look. Never before had he encountered a sonnen willing to speak to a Sacris official with such a demeanor—let alone one in such grave defiance of the law. Still, he saw something in this priest that fascinated him.

“Let me start from the beginning. My name is Captain Makani Womack and I wanted to apologize for the behavior of my compatriots this morning.” Makani removed his helmet to reveal he was a mammalian dragon with thick black and white fur and a strong brow. “It brought me great shame to see the indigent receive that treatment.”

The priest removed his hood and loosened the large cloak that covered his body. That was when Makani realized that the priest, was not as such. The sonnen that stood before him was a ferocious orca, striped black and white, with piercing green eyes that almost seemed to glow in the night. “And I am Mother Trisha Ekoh.” She paused. “No need to look so shocked.”

“I just assumed you to be male,” Captain Womack spoke, trying not to trip over his words.

“Then this cloak served its purpose,” Trisha remarked. “As for your shame, I appreciate the gesture, Captain. But this is not the first time. Nor the worst.”

“I know.” Womack replied. “My conscience does not allow me to forget these sins.”

Mother Ekoh was unmoved. “If it is absolution you seek, it is not for sale. Not from me. I am certain a Bishop on the Basilica grounds can present you with a great price.”

The captain was taken aback by the priestess’ sincerity—and her blasphemy, yet his curiosity about the priestess grew.

“I admired your actions,” he began. “And so, I too was moved to do something. I found it difficult to rest knowing that the dugong might die.”

The priestess made an expression of uncertainty. This soldier was very different from the others.

Indeed, from Trisha’s limited observations on past occasions, he always had been.

“If you are genuinely moved by our ragtag group, do not expect that we will alleviate your guilt on the currency of your remorse. The dugong will soon be dead, thanks to the commodore’s tantrum, and for the sixth time in as many weeks, I will preside over a burial. Unless, you should find him a scavethi.”

The soldier was confused, “A what?”

Realizing, Ekoh explained. “It’s Eimalin. I’m sorry, my time in Caletheral, or The Spits as you know

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it, has made me accustomed it. He needs a doctor.”

Captain Womack gave the appearance of a sonnen who had been asked to find one of the legendary 12 relics.

He began to hesitate. “Doctors are an exotic commodity, and even I don’t have access—“ Echo interrupted him, “If your concern is genuine, you will find one.” She flipped up her hood once more and returned her gaze to the dugong. “If not, then I’d appreciate it if you went back to your restless night by your warm hearth.”

The captain turned and began to make his way back, but then he stopped, addressing the priestess once more, “And what of the Eparch? It has been some time since we last saw her.”

Trisha Ekoh stood firm as steel. “The Eparch is dead, much like this dugong will soon be.”

Makani’s heart skipped a beat.

She looked on. “Now, find me a doctor.”

++++++++++ Chapter 2 ++++++++++ Raucous laughter filled the confines of the golden hall. In the center was a table with all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and some filleted araun from the day’s earlier delivery. Sitting around it were Commodore Zaccai and his company, gorging themselves on the spoils of a bountiful harvest.

Note: Araun, or araund depending on your pronunciation and pomp, classifies several aquatic species of creatures that serve as food for sonnenkind. The word stems from “ara” from the Eimalin word for water and “und” being the suffix for life or living.

“… and then he asked me,” The commodore strained to recount the story without fits of giggles, “he asked when he would be seeing his day in court.” More laughter.

He continued, “And I told him, as if any court would waste their time with an indigent like you!”

The laughter was deafening after that punch-line.

Captain Womack opened the double doors to the hall and walked inside. The other members of the company settled down. They all looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

One of the members piped up. “You look hungry, soldier. Help yourself to a serving of fresh berries.”

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Makani brushed the suggestion aside. “Not tonight. But your offer has my gratitude.”

Commodore Zaccai looked less than amused by this statement. “Captain, I was not notified of your whereabouts.”

Makani stood at attention. “Apologies Commodore, did my absence preclude me from something important?”

“Only my promotion!”

He gulped. “I was… unaware… that it had been expedited.”

“Have I given you reason to expect otherwise?” asked the commodore in a sarcastic tone.

Captain Womack changed his demeanor. “No Ser. Shall I henceforth address you as Admiral?”

“After the ceremony.” A smile snaked its way onto the commodore’s lips.

The captain nodded. “My sincerest congratulations to you, Ser. If you’ll excuse me, I will be retiring to—” “Do we bore you, Captain?” interrupted Zaccai. “You’ve been eager as of late to avoid our company.”

Captain Womack desperately wanted to speak his mind, but instead, he chose, “My mind has been elsewhere lately.”

One of the soldiers muttered, “No doubt left behind in the The Spits.”

A smattering of chuckles followed from the others. Makani attempted to hide his disdain, to no avail.

The commodore stood up. “Why do you burden your thoughts with those destitute scum?”

“I am unfamiliar with that which you—” the captain began to protest.

“They’re an extremely fortunate lot.” The commodore interjected, just before biting into a golden pear. “Were our world parallel to the Human one, we would be eating them instead of their vegetables.” Bits of chewed pear flew across the room.

Note: Animals in Nocturne mirrored the races of sonnenkind and when many of these species crossed over to Diurne during the War of the Gate, it caused civil unrest among sonnenkind. They were an affront to the perfect races created by Solaris, and speaking about their inherent cannibalism was the most grievous insult one sonnen could give another.

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“I am glad to know that there is some acknowledgment of the produce belonging to them.” replied Makani, a little too loudly.

“Don’t look so stricken, Captain.” The commodore laughed. “I was merely joking.”

“And I thought a sonnen of your rank would not stoop to such low humor.” Makani retorted.

The room came to a standstill, as though all the air had been removed. Silverware and plated goblets clattered against the table as the company fell silent. The tension in the room had immensely thickened. The question in the aether: What did he just say?

Zaccai and Womack stared at each other intently for a few moments.

Finally, Commodore Zaccai decided to break the silence. “Captain, what you need is a good bitch.”

Howls of laughter were heard from the table. Zaccai walked over to Womack and gave him a large embrace. The captain decided to pretend he was not insanely furious so as to resolve the situation more quickly.

The commodore spoke into his ear, and decided that instead of a reprimand, he would give the captain a pearl of wisdom. “Think of the things we would not have if they ruled the world. There would be no sonnenkind, just tribal oafs chanting in the moonlight. We would still be living in trees and caves rather than cities and mansions. Everyone knows that Solaris wanted the strong to rule over the weak, that is why She chose Her apostles. The righteous few to bring all of Her people under one rule. We gave savages civilization. We have a society. That is why it is our divine right to rule. The Apostles gave it to us. The future is never handed to the sonnenkind that deserve it. It is handed to the ones who take it. It belongs to creatures like me and you.”

The captain wanted to argue back, but he knew it was useless. For every good deed on the part of a tribal indigent, the commodore would bring up the fact that the majority of the criminals are also indigent. For every intelligent third class citizen, Zaccai would respond with the numbers that failed to know up from down. Never mind that they were uneducated because no one took the time to educate them and that they were criminals because they were criminalized. But what really made Makani hate Zaccai was the fact that he himself would have never been able to live the privileged life he lives now if it had not been for the commodore’s charity.

It was the commodore that found him nearly dead after a decade of illicit addiction outside the walls of Sanctum Polis. And it was he that gave him the opportunity to bask in the prestige of a life in the Polite Army. Captain Womack hated that he owed this wicked sonnen everything he

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ever owned. Acknowledging this, Makani could only muster the will to say what he had always felt obligated to say when he and Zaccai found themselves at opposite ends of an argument.

“Aye, Commodore.”

“Rest easy Soldier.” The commodore patted him on the bum, and pushed him along.

Before Captain Womack made it to the tower steps, he hesitated, thinking of a way to release his frustration. He turned and faced the table one last time, “Oh I nearly forgot to tell all of you.

I noticed Representative Helmer making his way toward the main steps. He should be here fairly soon.”

Looks of dread consumed the company’s faces. Some started choking on their produce. One even stated, “Quickly! Hide the food!”

Captain Womack was unfazed and continued making his way up.

“Captain!” one of them called to him. “Won’t you help us?”

“Help you with what?” he said coyly.

Their eyes went wide.

The captain turned around, “Oh that? I lied about that.”

They all shot him a hostile glance. Makani merely chuckled as he made his way up the stairs.

“See, I can make jokes too.”

++++++++++ Makani waited patiently by the door to his room for the boastful laughter and celebration over Zaccai’s promotion to wane. Once it quieted down, he seized his opportunity to sneak past the golden hall. He had heard on good authority that a scavethi was being held in the dungeon. He had nearly forgotten about that particular prisoner, but the priestess’ mention of the foreign word had jogged his memory. To confirm his suspicion, Womack had visited his friend Alan Sorgo, warden of the Jubarthan prison, before interrupting Zaccai’s party.

The scavethi’s crimes had been listed as murder, sorcery, and treason, but further study into the file revealed that the prisoner’s family had been massacred by the Polite Army. The Buhari’s were a family of doctors working to heal sonnen who had befallen Mors Album on a small outlaying island near the coast of Tobarin. In an effort to quarantine the plague, the Buhari family and all their patients had been cleansed by the Polite Army.

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Note: Mors Album, or White Death, was a festering disease that caused bubbling white sores to arise on a victim’s flesh. White hot liquid would then burst from the sores which is how the disease spread. This plague is believed to have begun in Jubarun and spread quickly throughout all of Dirune due to the detrimental living conditions of many citizens and the decrease in practicing doctors due to the witch hunt for anyone that might be practicing magical methods of healing. After the War of Old and New, war and plague had nearly claimed a third of the sonnen population. Many held humans responsible, as they seemed to be immune to the disease. This set back the Human Equality Movement (HEM) several years. It was not until after the non-magical medicine reform of the late 1600s, that the plague had begun to be wiped out. No new cases have arisen since 1803 Apoth.

According to Alan, he had heard a rumor that their methods were something to behold, so this one was kept alive and was scheduled to be transported to Sanctum Polis soon. The prisoner was charged with the deaths of all those diseased sonnen because the Buhari’s had allegedly used magic to heal them. Makani sensed something was off about the entire situation and felt that this doctor would do a lot more good working in The Spits than healing the minor flus of wealthy Coron children, which was presumably the reason for the transfer. Doctor’s had become a rare commodity, even for the wealthy.

The prisoner was scheduled to be moved the following morning, so Makani hastily made his way to the prison, which was found in the dungeons of the Sacris Arma building.

“Hey Mak, what brings you to the dungeons again? Did you need any more information on that prisoner being transferred? I’m curious, why Zaccai has taken such an interest in her?”

“He was actually eager to partake in her beauty, if you catch my drift,” Makani responded.

“Unfortunately Zaccai has passed out from over celebrating, and as you’ve told me, she is being shipped off tomorrow. I doubt we’ll see a bitch as gorgeous as her in these cells ever again.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Alan grinned with a wink.

“It’s a shame to let such a fine specimen go to waste. Do you mind if I—” “Not at all, but don’t be fooled by her shy demeanor, she’s a feisty one that okapi. Don’t come crying to me when she’s bitten your ear off.” Alan shrugged as he opened the gate to the prison.

“Just holler if you need anything.” Alan tossed him the keys to her cell.

“Don’t worry, I can hold my own,” Makani smirked as he caught them and sauntered past the steel enforced gate.

Getting inside was the easy part. What he had to do now was convince Buhari that he was on her side and get out unnoticed. He hurried to her cell and gazed upon her. Her mug shots did not do her justice. Her fiery brown eyes glistened like dark flames. Her bright red hair contrasted well

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with the deep brown and white fur of her face and her fur curved down into striped patterns at her arms and legs.

“Oh great, another one. Didn’t they tell you what I did to the last soldier.” Buhari smiled menacingly.

++++++++++ Chapter 3 ++++++++++ Mother Trisha Ekoh was sitting in the Eparch’s office in the bell tower of the temple. She was busy reading documents when the shaman came through her door.

“How is he?” asked the priestess.

“Not well,” began the shaman. “I brought him a pail of the freshest water I could find, but that aquifer is about two pulleys short of being bone dry.

“Wonderful,” she exclaimed sarcastically. “As though there weren’t plenty to worry about as is.”

Shaman Calgerun acknowledged the concern. “I heard a rumor that there are Jubaruni organizing themselves in Arador to the north using the Sepula Coral Reef as a natural wall against Polite fleets. The word is that they intend to march upon Jubartha soon. We may want to consider joining them.”

Mother Ekoh sighed. “There are always rumors—something which I fail to understand, considering that Sanctum Polis is stronger than ever before. The time for revolution passed us by some time ago. This will be another skirmish and nothing more.”

“I do bear some good news,” continued Calgerun. “Guess who managed to find a scavethi?”

Trisha was in disbelief. She looked out of her tower window and down into the sanctuary of the temple through a hole in its roof which gave her a clear view of the altar. Sure enough, the furred dragon clad in armor was standing next to a figure tending to Kai. Now it was Ekoh who started to feel a fascination about this peculiar Polite soldier.

She noticed Womack leaving the alter and soon after there was a knock at her office door.

“Would you please be so kind?” Ekoh asked Calgerun. The shaman, in-turn, opened the door where Captain Womack stood.

Speak of Lunus, thought the priestess. She addressed Womack,“I wasn’t expecting you back

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so soon, Captain.” She stood up extending her hand. Makani, who had come without gauntlets, reached out his orange padded paw.

“Have some faith, Mother.” replied Makani, shaking her hand before placing his helmet on the nearby desk.

“You have certainly restored some of it.”

The glow of the candles in the office flickered violently. The captain was fit and significantly taller than Ekoh. His small, crimson, bat-like wings that fit through slits in his armor twitched as he stared intently at the priestess. Trisha’s eyes gazed straight through the captain and she could sense something was amiss. The abyss of Womack’s dark blue eyes reflected her glance and the tension in the room began rising by the minute.

“I shall go and finish the preparations.” The shaman broke the silence, sensing a change in the atmosphere. He grabbed the stack of documents on Trisha’s desk before exiting the office.

Mother Ekoh addressed Makani. “What troubles you, if I may ask?”

Makani hesitated. “I was forced to kill a sonnen. Not a particularly innocent one by any measure, but one that was not an ordered target. Tonight I played Goddess. I traded a life to save one, the warden for the dugong.”

Trisha looked a bit too unsurprised. “The warden you say? I knew the sonnen. This doctor will save more than just one life and the lives of many certainly outweigh the life of a lecherous sonnen.”

The priestess walked over to her coat rack and began putting on her cloak. Taking it from the pegs she donned it, concealing her elegant, yet filthy, clerical clothing underneath. She began walking out the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Womack.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to.” The priestess began to descend the steps of the tower. “You are welcome to accompany me.”

Captain Womack followed the priestess down to a stairwell hidden underneath the temple’s alter.

They descended the narrow stone passage bordered on both sides by cavernous walls. In the distance Makani could see a small boat moored to a dock.

“How did you find him?” the priestess asked as they approached the boat.

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“Correction. The soldier found her.” Buhari had been sitting in the boat waiting for them. She stood, fixing her coat. “Dr. Riann Buhari. And I’m assuming you’re the priestess who sent Makani here to come rescue little ol’ me.”

“I forgot to mention she was a little more brash than expected,” the captain sighed.

Riann laughed. “Well maybe next time you should try introducing yourself before coming into someone’s cage.”

“I said I was there to help you,” Makani exclaimed.

“Yeah, and so did the last sonnen who mistook me for a helpless prisoner,” Buhari spat. “Now he’s missing an ear. Consider yourself lucky.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Buhari,” Trisha interjected as she stepped forward. “I’m Mother Trisha Ekoh.”

“Call me Riann,” Buhari said with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Trisha.” They all sat down in the small rickety boat and began down the river.

The boat carried them through the caverns, guided through the dense blackness by a torch tied to the helm that cast small dancing shadows along the walls. The water beneath them remained dark however. A deep blue that whispered of depths unseen as waves brushed against the creaking wood of the boat. They rode in silence for a while, letting the sound of moving water echo through the abyss.

“If I may ask,” Ekoh said calmly, breaking the silence. “Why were you imprisoned, Riann?”

Riann looked hard at the water beneath them. “I was charged with using magic. Although they decided to keep me alive due to my talents, they saw it fit to murder the rest of my family.”

Her voice weighed down on Trisha and Makani as she spoke. Anger and sadness mixed in the woman’s voice as easily as salt did to water.

“I had been imprisoned there ever since,” Riann continued, turning to face Ekoh. “That was until this soldier came barging in with talk of rescue. Even though, I wound up fixing his stupid mistake.”

Makani sighed from behind her. Ekoh raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Captain Womack, what exactly happened during this prison escape?”

The captain hesitated, trying to find the words. “I knew the warden, so getting in was the easy part. Once I secured Buhari, I passed the main gate alone. I toasted with him to a pleasant encounter with the prisoner, slipping liquid valerian into his mug. Once he was out cold I opened

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the gate to let her out.”

Ekoh pushed the boat out of the way of some protruding rocks. “If he was drugged, then why did you kill him?”

“The dose was too little,” Makani said regretfully. “He woke shortly afterward as I was nearing the exit stairwell. He raced to the alarm bells so I had no choice but to slit his throat. Because of my lack of precision, an unnecessary life was taken.”

Dr. Buhari placed a hand on Makani’s shoulder. “The captain was left distraught by his actions, so I decided to take care of the body rather than force him to deal with it. I had him help me gather some items for a mixture I had invented when Mors Album was creating more dead then we could ever bury. It decomposes the flesh at an expedient pace, reducing it to its base organics. It was created to help reduce the spread of plague, yet it worked in this instance as well.”

Mother Ekoh spoke as though she was commenting on the weather. “I’d feel worse if he had not allowed the poor doctor to be tortured daily.”

“As a Doctor, I must believe every life to have value,” Riann commented. “But as a recently freed fugitive, I’m not very remiss about that particular loss.”

Makani just shook his head. “I’m certain Eparch Pamelle would have disagreed with taking a life, regardless of their position or actions. Maybe this difference in ideals is what led you to usurp her?” The implications behind his words were unfounded, but the fact of her death coinciding with how easily Trisha seemed to keep this fact hidden led to Makani’s deduction.

Trisha began, as if ignoring the question. “I had never before faced such disillusionment.” There was a long pause. Everyone’s attention was fixated on the priestess, waiting to see where this was going. “I joined the Ordem Solaris in the tradition of my father and grandfather, who still believed in the promise of the Zodiac and the Sun Goddess. I even helped ensure the Sacris Gentium alliance gained popularity among the masses.”

The priestess continued to row mindlessly deeper into the cavern.

Makani interrupted. “And then you realized you had traded one fickle union among the islands for another?”

“Oh no,” said Trisha. “My family realized that long before. But we believed that this would be a great stepping stone for us. A foundation we could take away from Sanctum Polis and eventually found our own nation. A true union among the islands, that helped one another instead of

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stealing behind each other’s backs. That’s what drew me to the Drumagendry. They were an alliance of sonnen working to overthrow Sanctum Polis from the inside. Yet lately, I have grown tired of their lack of action. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change unless we force it to. At least, that is what I’m starting to believe.”

“And how does Eparch Pamelle tie into all of this?” Makani pressed on.

“She was my mentor,” Ekoh remarked in admiration. “She was a human sympathizer that bore one of their children. The child was to be in the care of the father so that she could retain her title as Eparch while we worked to rise in the clergy ranks. However, when Zaccai caught wind of a halfbreed human in Caletheral, he had the father and child killed. In her grief, Pamelle took her own life.”

The priestess lamented silently for a moment as he continued rowing the boat. “I have grown tired of seeing the sonnenkind of The Spits starve while the Ordem and Polites make gold and diamond additions to their edifices. The leaders are always too important to see the conditions of The Spits, so it was very easy to maintain the impression that the Eparch was still alive through correspondence. Especially since she would usually delegate her letter writing to me. I have merely taken her place to avoid a new Bishop or Eparch being inducted that might not agree with my plans. An Eparch from The Spits is of little concern to anyone.”

The captain begrudgingly nodded.

“Sorry to interrupt, but where in Diurne are we going?” Riann spoke up.

Womack suddenly realized he had no idea where this underground river lead. The priestess brought the boat to shore at a tilted castle that rose up half submerged from a lake formed at the cave’s end. The tallest tower rose up, barely touching the surface. Many buildings from Caletheral had fallen into these underground caverns, but this structure looked much older than any he’d ever seen before.

Ekoh smiled, “We’re here.”

++++++++++ Out of the structure appeared a human with dusty brown hair, clad in armor with a sheathed short sword at her side. She walked over to the boat. “Hand me the rope and I’ll tie you ashore.”

She spoke perfectly.

The captain’s blood went cold in its veins. He immediately reached for his sword, “Mother!

Behind you! A human rebel!”

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The human bared her teeth and took a defensive position placing her hand on her sword’s hilt, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

“Calm down, Captain!” shouted Mother Ekoh. She addressed the human. “Sara, he is with me.

He will not harm you, I promise.”

Womack ignored the priestess, his judgment clouded by an uncontrollable fear. He had always logically rationalized the idea of humans being treated as equals, but all of that left him in that instant. All he could think of now were the stories of how humans once tore through the land slaughtering innocents. He grew up hearing that an armored human was the greatest threat he could ever face. “Back to Lunus with you, human!” he yelled as he leapt from the boat and onto the dock, brandishing his rapier and making menacing advances.

Before he could get too far, Sara kicked his foot knocking him into the water. The captain was caught completely off-guard and hit the surface with a spectacular splash. “Maybe that’ll help cool you off.” Sara mocked, sticking out her tongue.

The priestess looked at Sara with some concern.

“He should surface momentarily” assured Sara.

However, several moments passed and the bubbles began to dissipate from the waters that marked Womack’s submersion.

“His armor is too heavy!” yelled Buhari. Without thinking twice, she jumped into the water, its frigid iciness stinging her fur like a pool of shattered glass. Below the surface she could see that Womack was having trouble swimming with his armor still on, exerting considerable energy to only keep sinking further. Riann swam over to him and motioned that he needed to shed the armor. After a moment’s hesitation, Womack agreed, and with the help of Riann, he was able to remove it.

Buhari resurfaced and gasped for air, but Makani was unconscious in her embrace.

The most beautiful of music consumed Makani’s ears as he awoke from a deathlike sleep. The haunting and nostalgic melodies coursed through his veins and warmed his soul, reminding him of his few fond childhood memories before his parents passed away and he had clouded his days with the haze of drug addiction. He finally opened his eyes.

Note: Drouz (dra-oos), sometimes called drowsy, DZ, D-easy, or simply Z on the streets, has been an epidemic ever since its creation in 1016 Apoth. It was developed by Scavethi Beathan Drouz as a calming tonic to quell his patients and cure hysteria. His brew however, had some extreme side effects. Users of drouz experienced a heightened euphoria, hallucinations, and vivid dreams while on the drug. Most however seemed to experience

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horrific nightmares that would prevent them from sleeping on subsequent nights after use. Many would inflict wounds on themselves, claiming that the monsters from their nightmares had hurt them and some would commit suicide. This lead to severe cases of addiction, with users being unable to sleep if not on drouz. The drug has been outlawed by all the nations of Dirune and valerian has become the substitute mix of choice when trying to sedate a patient. Valerian also incites a deep, relaxing, dreamless sleep and was an ideal substitute to help ween drouz addicts off the drug.

Captain Womack lay on a straw blanket on the ground. He was wearing cloth vestments and his head was resting on Riann’s lap.

Over the captain’s head, Dr. Buhari was waving a broken bamboo twig and humming melodically.

From the severed ends, strange streaks of green light made their way from the stick and into Makani’s ears. When Riann noticed that Makani had awoken, she ceased humming and the glow and music stopped. As his vision began to clarify further he noticed Mother Ekoh sitting next to him, “Welcome to Little Nocturnia,” she smiled, looking relieved.

The captain stood up and looked around. He was in a tent inside the half-submerged building which happened to be quite cavernous in its own right. A tiny city had been built inside it, with piles of barrels for buildings and canals of water for streets. Humans were everywhere, sitting, eating, speaking to one another, and lugging around crates on their shoulders. Never before had he seen so many—and so civilized. The few sonnenkind that were there were, interestingly enough, treating them as equals, shaking their hands and having civil conversations.

The captain paused, realizing what he had just been listening to, “That was magic, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Riann said in the same melodic tone her voice had just carried. “You would be surprised how many medicinal benefits proper magic can have on the world. Magic itself is not evil. It is sonnen who misuse it that are.”

The priestess could sense Womack’s concern, the same prejudice that had triggered his actions earlier were affecting him now. “When I was a young orca,” she interjected, changing the subject slightly. “Even being caught holding a leaf meant a trip to the gallows. For that very reason, doctors began fearing their profession that required plants to heal, regardless of magic chanting.

Because of this, disease began to claim many lives.” Riann nodded in agreement.

Trisha paused briefly before continuing. “My sister was stricken with a simple flu that could have easily been cured by a scavethi, but the local doctor refused to help. My family left their home in search of someone that could heal her, but her condition worsened beyond the help of nonmagical medicine. Eventually, fortune would have it, we came across a scavethi who agreed to use magic to cure her. I was so happy to see my sister alive and well again! We laughed and played the entire evening. That was until Polite Soldiers came knocking on the doctor’s door.

They didn’t even ask questions, they just killed him on the spot and they would’ve killed my entire family too had my parents not asserted that my sister was the only one to receive treatment…”

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The priestess’ words became choked and she could no longer continue his story.

“Many of us have lost family,” Riann sympathized. She stood up and dusted herself off.

“Unfortunately, I must be going. There are so many sick people I must attend to here, now that our drowning victim is awake. A scavethi’s job is never done.” Riann sighed, waving as she left.

“Come with me, there’s something I’d like to show you.” Mother Ekoh mentioned after finally composing herself.

She lead Womack out of the tent and through the small city.

“What’s in the crates?” Womack’s curiosity had peaked.

“Nothing a Coron like yourself should be concerned about,” the priestess dismissed. “Just know that it is this trade which has prevented The Spits from starving.”

The captain still couldn’t believe how many free humans there were in front of him, “Do the others from The Spits know about this place?”

Trisha shook her head, “Some of my inner circle knows. And there are always rumors. But most do not. The few sonnenkind that do mix with the humans are the remaining adherents to the Eimalin religion who wish to actively practice. Which brings me to what I wanted to show you.”

They entered a makeshift library built into part of the castle’s structure with wood. A few books and lanterns dotted what Makani could tell from the remaining stone, was a once grand library in this castle’s prime.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Drumagendry in hushed tones around the city, the group working to free humans worldwide. Well we’re not a myth and we’re doing much more than just liberating humans.”

Ekoh reached up to a black bound book with silver markings. “After reading this, my view on the Ordem changed significantly.”

Makani examined the book titled The Book of Lunus and a great anxiety consumed the soldier.

The Sacris Intelligentium considered the book to be a heretical document, for it foretold the return of the demon god, Lunus. The captain had always been taught to stay far away from the scripture if he ever encountered it, which was not hard to avoid, until now. Still, in the same way everything he had encountered so far fascinated him, this forbidden tome now began to luster in his mind.

The priestess continued, “It always seemed remarkable to me how even the most oppressed sonnenkind could fail to see how they were in-turn, oppressing an even more despised minority

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of creatures. But it also makes sense. Oppression is all they know.”

Ekoh paused, “I long for a day in which we can all live in this kind of harmony. Where magic and humans aren’t demonized. Take a moment to read that book and I assure you, your view of the Ordem will change.”

She sat down next to the soldier, her feet dangling into a large pothole that had partially filled with water. “Now I need to ask you. What was it about that indigent dugong that finally caused you to act against the Polites?”

The captain had been anticipating the question. “I had never been comfortable with the commodore’s methods. Often times, I would be quite vocal about it frankly. However, I felt, and sometimes still feel, that I owe Zaccai. He took me off the streets and gave me a path to follow when I had none.

“However, a debt can only hold you back for so long. Watching you stand up to the commodore showed me that there was another option besides sitting back and just letting him do as he pleased. I had grown sick of my own silence and decided it was time to take action.”

“I am glad you came to that decision,” Ekoh gazed into the heart of Little Nocturnia. “I think you and I may be of the same mind when it comes to taking action.”

Captain Womack nodded gravely, his mind also lost in thought.

++++++++++ Chapter 4 ++++++++++ Makani walked through the makeshift streets reflecting about the conditions that had created this dichotomy of illicit trades and indigent sonnenkind in Caletheral. Around him the people bustled and Buhari was busy tending to the sick and downtrodden. “There is a part of me that believes if the sonnenkind of Sanctum Polis knew of the injustice happening here in these other parts of Sacris, if the Zodiac would simply allow them to see it, I do not think they would allow it to continue.”

Ekoh scoffed. “One would think. But the evidence to the contrary is right here in front of us. Here you are, Polite Soldier. You have come, and you have seen, and you proceed to do nothing. I suspect that most of the sonnenkind behind Sanctum’s walls would be content doing the same.

And why not? It is far easier to live in that fabricated reality than it is to confront the truth. Even you succumbed to your irrational fears upon arriving. Do you suggest we drop the entire armada into the water?”

Makani couldn’t find the words to argue back. The priestess was absolutely right. Even though

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the Zodiac had done everything in their power to hide the tragedies both inside and outside of Sanctum Polis from the unsuspecting, and privileged populace, the very nature of sonnenkind dictated that those efforts were almost superfluous. The walls might as well have not been there, and there would still be walls. The ones that really needed to feel this guilt were the emotionless leaders. If they could not feel on their own, then it had to be forced upon them somehow. In the same way the sonnenkind of The Spits had to lose the things that were important to them on a daily basis, the commodore should be forced to lose something similar. “Maybe we can expose Zaccai?”

“Haven’t you been listening? Most of them know what he does to the indigents. No one cares.

We must rid ourselves of Zaccai, once and for all,” Mother Ekoh countered.

“We can’t kill him. We’d only make him a decorated martyr and some other monster would take his place,” Makani reasoned.

“Then we kill the lot of them, the representative and his followers. An invasion is soon approaching. We can give them the upper hand if the city is left defenseless. I’ve avoided conflict for too long, maybe this is the only way to incite a little change!” The priestess barked in an agitated tone.

“Another short lived victory before Sanctum sends the bulk of its army to wipe you all out.

Trust me, I’ve seen what they’re capable of first hand.” Buhari chimed in having overheard their conversation. “There might be another way. The Zodiac is only as powerful as their representatives allow them to be, and I know of one person who the local representative listens to without questions. Someone who has displayed genuine compassion from time to time. I’d heard whispers of her kindness and even saw it first hand when she would visit the prison to ensure we were being well nourished.”

Mother Ekoh knew of which advisor Riann was speaking of. She was a vivacious seal, a Pinniped of The Spits who Helmer took pity on when she was a but a child. She would occasionally come to The Spits with clothing and medical supplies, but only very occasionally. Among Representative Helmer’s inner circle, she was a senior advisor and was referred to as Chancellor Celia Helmer and the representative’s adoptive daughter.

“Yes Celia! If she were to see the commodore for the monster that he is,” Makani remarked, “she would be able to change the representatives mind about him and remove him from office. All of them will be gathered for Zaccai’s official promotion ceremony, we could somehow expose the commodore there for all the officials to see.”

It was then that Makani had an idea. “If they don’t care about the atrocities he’s committing, we’ll have him commit an atrocity they cannot overlook. Would you be able to smuggle a few tonics

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into Jubartha?” he asked the priestess.

“Security will most likely be increased. I’m sure they’ve found out Riann is missing by now, but still, it’s a simple task,” mused the priestess, curious about the captain’s plan.

“And what about smuggling in a few humans?”

The priestess raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t be too much of a far cry, Captain” “Helmer has many human slaves. Celia would certainly notice a change, but I’ve heard the representative mention on several occasions that they all look the same to him.” Makani continued. “I will distract Celia when the food is being brought out.” He moved his gaze toward Buhari. “We’ll need a strong dose of valerian.”

The priestess laughed. “Calgerun can assist you. Sedatives are less costly than medicine, so he is actually well versed in that brew.” She paused. “Too well, I would say.”

++++++++++ The golden hall was brimming with glittering decorations. Crystal vases were filled with exotic flowers, the hollow decorative columns were oiled to be lit during the celebration, and the solid curtains had been replaced with gilded ones. The standard silverware had been exchanged for elegant gold-trimmed porcelain plates and luxuriously embossed goblets. The representative spared no expense when he knew prominent figures would be attending an event he was hosting.

Makani returned to his quarters after his 2 day absence fearing a reprimand and prepared with an excuse. Luckily the entire squadron was busy planning for the celebration that no one seemed to notice he was gone. The sonnenhunt for Alan, who was presumed to have run off with Buhari thanks to his history of lecherous acts with the prisoners, was postponed until after the ceremony at Helmer’s request. Everything seemed to be going perfectly according to plan.

He could not contact the priestess or the doctor once he had returned to the Sacris Arma, but he had to assume that they would successfully smuggle in the humans and tonics. He spent the day contemplating his plan, until the time came. He dressed himself in his finest attire and made his way to the golden hall.

As he walked down the corridor, Captain Womack stopped by a small window that rested along the edge of a smaller hallway that led nowhere in particular. His feet carried him to the edge of the glass. It was a quiet little corner, surprisingly, with all the hustle and bustle of last minute preparations playing in the background. The window had once been a place of solitude where Makani could look out upon the city walls and remember how much he had risen from the streets

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to a place of honor. At least that is what he had once believed.

Now as his eyes crawled past the glass to look upon the walls in the distance, the word honor felt hollow. There was no honor inside the city. Not anymore. Just sonnen who were mirror images of Zaccai: ruthless and soulless. The wall stretched up into the flaming orange sky of sunset, its true face revealed. It represented the conqueror, and how they won with armies and bloodshed.

Yet once they no longer wanted to see the world they created, a wall was built to divide them.

“My good Captain!” Zaccai’s voice roared through the hall. Makani winced as the bobcat’s arm swung around his neck. The smell of imported whiskey clung to his every word.

“What foul mood brings you to stare so solemnly at the night sky,” continued the commodore.

Makani sighed and shrugged the bobcat’s arm off of him. “Just watching the sunset, Ser.” “No need to be formal, Captain,” Zaccai said loudly. “I know we have been at odds lately, but as sonnen of the Sacris Gentium, we must come together against the rabble of the world.”

Makani scoffed.

“What truly bothers you, Makani?” Zaccai asked. His voice carried with it an almost genuine concern. There were few times, the commodore called Makani by his name. Even fewer times when it was attached to concern. If the captain had not known better, he would have thought there might be hope in changing the sonnen. Unfortunately, there was no changing Zaccai.

“The night,” Captain Womack answered. “It always brings with it unrest. Much of that is within myself.”

“Ah,” Zaccai nodded. “There is good reason for that. The night is the domain of that demon, Lunus. It is the night that brings evil into our world, and those indigents thrive on it. It is because of the night that we must stand ever vigilant, waiting to bask in the light of Solaris come morning.

Any sane sonnen is wary of the night.”

Makani looked inquisitive. It had been a while since he last heard Zaccai speak of religion. “You may have a point, Commodore.”

“I always do,” Zaccai laughed. “Either way, there was another reason I came looking for you.”

“There was?” Makani asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Zaccai turned to face Makani eye to eye. “I’ve seen you grow into a resilient, if not stubborn, young sonnen. You have promise, and though we have often found ourselves at the opposite ends of a dispute, I believe that after I become Admiral, I would like you to take my place as

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Commodore.”

Captain Womack stood in shocked silence.

The soon to be Admiral Zaccai grasped at Makani’s shoulders. “Remember what I told you about to whom the future belongs. It’s sonnen like you and I that built this society. It’s we who must now carve out a new age. It’s your right as much as it is mine. I see much of myself in you, Captain, no Commodore Womack.

“That is why I took you off the drug-ridden streets of Drogaut. You had a fire in your eye almost as bright as the sun. Almost as bright as the one I saw in myself. I came from humble beginnings, but I made of myself the man I am today. You have that same fire, and the indigent of these lands need a strong hand to rule them. I believe in you, Makani.”

Makani nodded in agreement. They made their way toward the golden hall. Makani had to support Zaccai as he continued to laugh in merriment. He tuned out the bobcat’s ramblings while he contemplated his time in service under him. Zaccai went on about how great he was and how he finally accomplished his life’s mission. As they drew close to the crowd, the soon to be admiral seemed to sober up instantly as he puffed out his chest and descended into the hall. The nobles that had gathered there applauded his arrival, for he was the guest of honor. Makani decided to hold off at the top of the stairs a little longer to assess the situation when he heard a familiar voice call out to him from a room in the distance.

It was Mother Ekoh and she was signaling for Makani to come over to her. Makani’s heart sank, something must have gone wrong if the priestess was here, he only needed Buahri to carry out the remainder of the plan. “What are you doing here?” Makani whispered angrily as he stepped into the room, looking back to ensure no one noticed his absence.

“I came to watch that bastard fry,” the priestess remarked with a slight grin.

“Is everything in order then?”

“Yes, yes don’t worry. Everything is going according to plan. Just make sure you do your part to look like the hero in all of this.” Mother Ekoh motioned him to hurry. “It shouldn’t be long before they bring the food out.”

++++++++++ Dinner was about to be served, and time was running out. Captain Womack quickly descended the stairs in search of his target, Chancellor Celia. He moved across the hall, until he caught sight of her at a table with her father. Representative Helmer addressed an elegant flamingo that

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had stopped by to introduce herself. Makani overheard them as he closed in.

“Lady Claudette Artisa,” Helmer exclaimed as he regarded the finely dressed sonnen. Lady Artisa wore a long frilled royal blue dress, embossed in gold, that contrasted starkly with the pink of her feathers. Helmer, a slightly robust mongoose, wore his best dark maroon Auri & Panno suit, the best suit makers in all of Corvia. “What a pleasure you could make it!” He gestured to take the lady’s hand.

Note: Auri & Panno, also known as Auri Panno or A&P, is a fine clothing and accessories brand founded in 1614 Apoth in the great nation of Corvia. Though many competitive brands have arisen, Auri & Panno has held it’s title as the world’s top luxury brand. The Corvian royal family only wear outfits exclusively designed for them by A&P.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world Helmy, you always throw the best parties!” She boasted as Helmer kissed her hand.

“Chancellor, may I have a word?” Makani leaned in to whisper to Celia so as not to interrupt Helmer and the Lady.

“Of course Captain.” She was eager to escape the pomp exuding from the table. She was never one for such large events. She stood grasping the captain’s arm and the two of them made their way up the grand staircase.

The halls seemed to shine around them while they walked. Makani and Celia conversed about the excessive extravagance that reigned over the sonnen in the hall. Celia giggled as Makani mentioned a certain high society type that looked like the gold trim on his suit was ready to come apart at the seams. They walked for a moment more, exchanging pleasantries, until they came to the corner window that Makani had reflected upon just moments before.

“Now, Captain,” Celia said, a music to her voice. “I appreciate the distraction from my father’s boisterous antics, but that doesn’t seem to be the only reasoning behind it.”

Makani smiled. “You have always been so observant, Chancellor.” His eyes turned back to the city wall, which now seemed to extend forever into the striking black of night.

“It is not hard.” Celia turned to watch the night sky. “Especially with one who seems to wear their heart on their sleeve.” Celia’s white-spotted gray fur seemed to vibrate in the moonlight.

Her black head fur was cut short in the modern fashion, tied back into a bun leaving only slight strands as bangs. Her sleek dress contained no embroidery, yet its deep crimson color danced between the yellow-orange of candlelight and the white of the moon.

Celia turned her sincere gaze back towards Makani. “So, my Captain, what troubles you so?”

The captain paused before responding. “My apologies from stealing you away, Chancellor.

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Especially with the ceremony about to begin.”

“Honestly, Captain,” Celia laughed. “I’ve been to more than my fair share of these parties, and not once have I ever paid attention. I don’t plan on changing that pattern. At least now, I’ll have an excuse as to why my mind is elsewhere.”

++++++++++ Chapter 5 ++++++++++ Helmer raised his goblet high, clanging a spoon to call all the party guests to attention. Two servants exited the kitchen with torches to light the hollow decorative columns. The columns were carved with intricate patterns and encrusted with diamonds that shone as the torch flames billowed within them. The amazement of the crowd was palpable and even those that had attended Helmer’s previous soirées were never left desiring more. Those that knew, anticipated what would come next, as it happened at every one of the representative’s parties.

“Ladies and gentlemen, sonnenkind and Corons, children of the Great Sun Goddess! As you all know, we are here to honor one of our greatest military heroes with the highest promotion we have to offer!” Though that was partially true, Helmer was also taking this opportunity to solidify his standing as representative for another year. “Grant Zaccai, please kneel before me!”

Zaccai eagerly arose. His highly decorated white militant uniform, worn only at these kinds of gatherings, was glistening in the torch light. He stood proudly, waving to the crowd before heading over to where Helmer was standing.

“I honor thee, with Solaris as my witness, under the protection of the Ordem Solaris and the Divine Zodiac who guide us all, as Admiral of the Sacred Polite Army. Do you accept this prestige?”

“Of course Representative,” Grant smiled.

“May the Sun guide you and your judgment never be clouded.”

Rapturous applause filled the hall. Makani could hear them in the distance and knew the time was almost upon them.

The music started up again and waves of humans then stormed out of the kitchen. Many in the crowd who didn’t know what was happening were frightened, but were soon overtaken by the splendorous choreography. Humans in nicely pressed suits and dresses spun around in lines of excellently timed motions to the music currently playing.

“They’re so well trained!” One aristocrat proclaimed.

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“Look how well groomed they are!” Another announced.

The humans swung around the tables carrying platters full of the evening’s courses. Creamy soups, grilled araun, fried val’rook, and countless assorted fruits and vegetables.

Note: Val’rook are beasts capable of flight. Though they are bipedal, have opposable thumbs, and have proven capable of using tools, their extremely limited cognitive ability keeps them labeled as beasts. Val’rook are also considered a delicacy, though consumption of the species has ceased in recent years thanks to the Sonnen Against Beast Cruelty (SABC) organization.

“Helmy, your humans never cease to amaze me. I must have one of them! Ah!” Lady Claudette nearly fell out of her chair. “That one there! He’s perfect! His hair matches my feathers.” Artisa pointed to one of the well groomed servants who’s hair was as pink as cherry blossoms in the spring. “Please Helmy, I’ll pay whatever price you ask.”

“Now is not the time for this Milady, and you certainly don’t want that one.” He grabbed the boy by his collar and tugged him down. “He’s a half-breed, not fit for a fine lady such as yourself.

I’ll sell you my best human after the banquet.” Rough scaly skin was revealed under the boys clothing before being pushed back into the ballet of human servants.

“Why Helmy, why do you have a half-breed then?” Claudette looked perplexed “Its a wonder he can function, let alone perform the feats you have these servants do.”

“My only daughter asked me to purchase him. She had never asked me for anything else before so I felt compelled to abide.” Helmer shrugged.

“You’re such a softy Helmy, that’s why you have my vote for Representative.” She remarked before returning to her recently served soup. A smile crept its way onto Helmer’s maw.

“Some freshly caught araun, Madam?” offered a human passing the table.

Claudette smiled, “It’s araund. Duh. Duh. There’s a ‘d’ sound there. And yes please, I’ve always been a fan of local Jubarundi cuisine.”

The dusty brown haired human placed the plate down and took away Artisa’s empty bowl of soup, merely forcing a smile as she left.

“Savages.” Claudette remarked in a hushed tone to Representative Helmer.

++++++++++ “The moon is full tonight,” Makani commented, turning his gaze back to the window.

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“Why yes it is,” Celia remarked. Her voice played softly against his ears.

Makani noticed her smile never wavered from her face as she regarded the engorged moon. “You seem so calm. Commodore— I mean Admiral Zaccai, believes that all sonnen should be wary of the night. Most believe the moon itself is nothing more than the eye of the spiteful Lunus.”

The young seal continued to watch the sky. “It is easy to believe that. The Ordem’s teaching make sure of that. Yet I can’t help but see some safety in the moonlight.”

“That’s rather close to heresy, Chancellor.”

“I never took you for the zealous type, Captain,” Celia laughed. “Rather what I mean to say is that I believe the Goddess to be reflected in the moonlight, as it were. For She is light, is she not?

Light is Her realm. Dark, the realm of Lunus. So how could any light be evil? Then again, this is all just my opinion. And one I am not afraid to admit is slightly childish.”

“I never thought of it in such a way,” Makani whispered.

“Neither has many a sonnen. Yet there was one poem that I heard as a child. One that I knew before Father took me in, when I was still a child of Caletheral. One that spoke of the moon in terms of freedom rather than fear. Yet that might be far too blasphemous for any sane sonnen to speak aloud.”

Makani heard cheers in the background. He needed to spend more time with Celia. “I think I would like to hear it, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Celia looked stunned, yet her smile grew wider. She nodded and cleared her throat before she began.

“Call me down to the meadow at moon-rise and watch how I dance in the light.

Call me down to the meadow at moon-rise, and run with me through the night.

Let us look at the sky, and hear the soft sigh, of grass as it breathes in the moonlight.”

Celia continued to hum a few notes that waltzed through the air around them. Makani could not help but be entranced by her song. The words bounced in and out of his ears. He found

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himself swaying back in forth. It brought back the memory of the last few days. When they were preparing to enact today’s plan.

++++++++++ “And one, two, three. One, two, three.” Makani accentuated the beat with a staff on the ground.

Makani stretched out his back as he spoke aloud. A sigh passed through his maw as he continued to bang the staff on the ground. The humans of Little Nocturnia spun around for the eighteenth time. He wasn’t sure exactly, but it was beginning to feel like the hundredth time. Even then they still stumbled on their feet.

“Stop,” Makani groaned. “How many times must I say it? It’s dip, spin, pivot, turn. Not whatever you were doing.”

“I apologize that all of us aren’t as prissy as you, Captain,” Sara sneered, dropping the flat stone she’d been balancing on her hand. “Some of us have never really much needed to dance.”

Makani sighed. “That’s no matter. You must learn.”

Sara started forward toward him. “How about you show us, Oh Great Lord of the Dance? Show us all how to dance like the proper sonnen you are?”

The captain smirked and walked forward, waving his hand to the small makeshift band they deemed to call an orchestra. As the music began to crescendo, instead of grabbing the stone, Makani grabbed Sara. She growled at him, as he placed her next to him.

“If you want me to lead,” Makani remarked. “Then you must follow.” The music punctuated a chord and Makani moved his torso down along his extended leg in a practiced manner, picking up another rock platter off the ground and balancing it perfectly. Sara stumbled after him, picking up her own platter, not to be outdone.

The waltz played and Makani pivoted, spinning his body in a half-circle. His feet came together as his body kept with the motion dipping down. A slight gasp left a few humans’ lips, who believed he would fall. Yet he quickly turned his outside foot and spun once into a perfect angle as the ring of the cymbals crashed in the background.

A thud accompanied Sara as her turn ended with her crashing into the ground.

“Now that is what it’s supposed to look like,” Makani said barely out of breath. “It is the same dance every time, anyone not in step will be immediately held in suspicion. Now again from the top.”

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He walked over to Sara as the other humans got back into line. She swiped away his extended hand with a grunt. He almost found himself snarling. “I still expect an apology.”

“For what,” Sara spat.

“For almost causing me to drown,” Makani said purposefully.

Sara just stared at him and began to walk off. “And you can keep expecting one.” She returned to the other humans, who were practicing, before the captain could retort.

“She is rather strong-willed, isn’t she?” Trisha’s voice chimed in from behind. Makani turned to find Mother Ekoh grinning.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Sara has become this way because she has had to,” Ekoh continued. “Can you truly blame her for that?”

Makani thought for a moment. “Perhaps not. Regardless, what brings you here? I thought you weren’t very fond of my plan.”

Trisha laughed. “I’m still not. I don’t see how dancing is any more productive than a blade.

However, I did take quite the enjoyment in seeing you dance.”

The captain turned away from the orca. “I used to like it, when I first joined the army.”

++++++++++ Makani snapped back to the present as the music both in Celia’s voice and from the hall began to end. His ears only caught the last few lines of her poem.

“Come down to the meadow at moon-rise and join in this new kingdom.

Come down to the meadow at moon-rise where we all share in freedom. “

Celia whistled once more as her words drifted off into oblivion. Her face seemed to shine as she turned to look upon the captain for approval.

“It was gorgeous, Chancellor,” Makani finally said. He almost regretted that soon, her smile would

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be wiped from her face. “Unfortunately, I believe it may be time for us to return.”

“Very well,” Celia said cheerfully. “We mustn’t keep Father waiting too long. Thank you, Captain Womack.”

++++++++++ Chapter 6 ++++++++++ Celia giggled as she continued to delight in Makani’s company, making their way back to the golden hall. “That’s odd. The banquet seems awfully quiet. Even if everyone is eating by now, the guests can hardly restrain from wanting to hear their own voices,” Celia commented, looking slightly perplexed. That expression was quickly wiped away by one of sheer terror as she saw all the guests passed out at their tables. “Father!” she shrieked as she scrambled down the steps, nearly tripping on her heels.

“Father! Father!” she embraced him tightly, shaking him to wake up.

Makani followed behind Celia and turned to face the currently glowing Zaccai, “What have you done?”

“Sorcery! Treachery! Guards! Anyone!” Celia shouted completely stricken by the gravity of the situation. Makani unsheathed his rapier and pointed it at the disoriented Zaccai.

Zaccai was in a stupor and the world around him spun. He struggled to grasp the situation he was in when he heard Celia’s cries. As Makani approached him menacingly with his blade he reacted instinctively. Pulling out his own rapier, the admiral noticed that his paws were shimmering with a green aura.

“What have you done Zaccai? Stand back Celia, I will deal with this criminal.” Makani acted as he stepped toward Zaccai. Any minute now, Buhari would undo the spell and when Celia affirmed what was happening to the representative, the guards would arrest Zaccai. Makani would be seen as a hero for defending the Chancellor and apprehending the fiendish sorcerer.

“Varítroveth” Buhari chanted in the distance, awaken in the old language, but nothing happened.

“Varítroveth” she recanted assuming she had flubbed the pronunciation, but this time she was certain.

“He’s not breathing!” Celia cried pressing her head to her father’s chest.

Makani merely presumed that the dose they used was too potent and proceeded to try and subdue Zaccai. Despite his disorientation, the admiral managed to hold his own very well in combat.

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Their swords clanged, muffling out the horrified cries of Celia. Zaccai was swift. Clang! Crash!

Zaccai flipped over one of the tables disregarding the corpses of the evening’s attendees.

Makani proceeded to lift it off them, still certain that they were alive. Zaccai seized this opportunity to flee into the kitchens.

Buhari needed to alert Makani of what she had deduced. “Makani!” she cried, revealing her location. “The valerian, it’s been poisoned, I’m certain of it. It must be the doing of Calgerun and the Mother Ekoh. I suspected foul play when I saw that It was weapons and deadly night shade that they were exporting in those crates!”

Horror now overtook the captain’s face as well as he looked around the room strewn with numerous soldier and Coron bodies. His mind echoed with the priestess’ words “Then we kill the lot of them, the representative and his followers.” A crash came from the kitchen where he heard Trisha shouting at Zaccai as well as the screams of several human servants.

“This is for Pamelle!” She spat as her sword drew a thin line of blood from Zaccai’s pelt. “And this is for Kai!” She continued, “And for all the citizens in The Spits that you’ve either tortured or killed.”

Makani broke for the kitchen to address the priestess. “Mother, what have you done!” He barged in through the double doors to see Sara and Trisha attacking Zaccai. Ekoh ducked under Zaccai’s blade as it swung in a wide arc over her. She flipped her own sword and punched upward. The pommel hit Zaccai’s wrist sending his rapier crashing into the ground yards away.

He leapt back in both surprise and pain, out of their reach.

“What I had to do to ensure our freedom, Captain. You of all people must have realized that your plan was foolhardy. So you become Admiral? And then what? Even if you had the power to help The Spits, what about the rest of Jubarun?” Trisha barked without taking her gaze off of Zaccai.

“That’s enough bloodshed for one night! I’ll imprison Zaccai and when Sanctum Polis comes to investigate, we’ll turn him in.” The captain tried to negotiate as he approached them.

“Not another step, dragon.” Sara flicked her blade toward the captain’s throat.

Suddenly the ground began to shake and Zaccai seized the opportunity to snatch one of the human servants, placing a kitchen knife to his throat. “No! Not him!” Trisha bellowed.

“I knew this filthy mutt meant something to you. I’d remember that hair anywhere. This is that wretched bitch’s child, isn’t he?”

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The Polite Soldier

“You are not allowed to speak of the Eparch that way, you impudent beast. I’ll cut your tongue for such insolence!”

“Easy now, you wouldn’t want the boy to be the tongueless one, would you?” Zaccai clutched the boy’s jaw grabbing his tongue in-between his thumb and forefinger. He slowly motioned the knife to the child’s face as he stepped backwards toward the Kitchen’s back door. Makani took advantage of Sara’s momentary distraction in the situation to knock her off her feet, in a similar fashion as she had once done to him.

Sara’s thud called Trisha’s attention allowing Zaccai to escape. “No!” She barked throwing a menacing glare at Makani. “If you don’t understand my motives then you too are my enemy.

Victory belongs to those who take it. The rebellion is here, Captain. Who’s side are you on?”

“You sound exactly like Zaccai.” Makani retorted.

The anger in Trisha’s eyes grew intensely as she merely turned and gave chase after Zaccai.

Makani followed promptly after her to the open square of the Arma building. In the distance he saw Zaccai and Trisha face to face. Zaccai was still clutching the pink haired youth. Sara, who had recovered, lunged at Makani to prevent him from interfering.

Captain Womack reacted quickly, his years of military training did not fail him this time. He parried Sara and knocked her back.

“Sara, how many failed rebellions and dead bodies will it take to realize that this is not the way to incite change!” Makani pleaded.

“You don’t understand, how could you? You’re privileged Captain, you don’t know the suffering of those on the streets!” Sara snapped.

“I was a drouz addict on the streets of Drogaut. I know what it’s like to have nothing. I also know that even the most wicked can have compassion. Wars are not won by blood, they’re won by working together to beat the system at its own game.”

“Those misguided ideals of yours and the one’s the Drumagendry once held are both wrong.

It’s a combination of blood and tactic. That’s why Calgerun slipped night shade into Buhari’s valerian. This way, we all get what we want. You can still be a hero, Captain, and with the city defenseless we can finally take the nation’s capital back from the Polites.”

“How are the rebels any better than Sanctum Polis? They’re just as ruthless! This nation was founded on bloodshed long before the unification.” Makani reasoned.

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The Polite Soldier

“At least these murderers don’t consider humans to be less than the muck underneath their boots.” Sara scoffed.

The ground shook violently once more.

“They’re coming.” Sara smiled “Who?” Makani demanded an answer.

Sara faced Makani, defiance glowing in her eyes. Just from them, he knew the answer as it left her lips. “Revolution.”

The earth continued to shake violently beneath them as he turned to see the city’s outer wall engulfed in flames.

Sara was smiling maniacally. The quaking had caused Zaccai to lose balance allowing Trisha to secure the child. She then swung her blade violently, severing his head from his corpse. As she raised it up high, her silhouette swelled grotesquely against the flames in the distance.

Makani whispered to himself with a heavy heart. “Revolution.”

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