The Captain's tent buzzed with the sounds of jaunty scratching, plodding feet, and heavy snoring. Libro dipped his quill into a fresh pot of ink and scraped out another line on the thick, hefty tome set before him. He stifled a yawn, itched at the thin growth of hair along his jawline, His grooming had been less than satisfactory that week. For days now he'd written new lines into the Archive, documenting the Captain's victories against the rebels. These so-called 'Sons of the Dragon Emperor', as they were so keen to call themselves, had seen fit in to declare their independence against the Empress and her Empire, a mistake they soon came to realize once the Imperial army had arrived on their doorstep.

Libro dipped his quill for the hundredth time that night and scratched out another line. Indeed the only thing left of the rebel army now was a ragtag group of loyalists holed up in some fort along the hillside. As bleak as their situation was, they'd proven themselves quite stubborn to remove.

Nearby, the Captain paced around a map, its surface of the local topography scattered with various stone figurines.  Every now and then he'd shuffle the pieces around, mutter something to himself before continuing to pace. A routine he'd done for hours now.

Nestled beside him was the Vangen's magician, leaning precariously on side of his chair and snoring like a hibernating bear. His thin arms lay draped across his chest, hood drawn low so that only his pale, white whiskers were visible. 

Without so much as a warning the Captain turned and kicked the magician's chair. "Wake the feck up, Magus!"

"Agh!" The old man jumped with a start, haggard, bloodshot eyes fluttering open. "I'm awake! I'm awake!" He winced and wiped a hand across his withered face. "Nido's tits Dux, you don't have to be so rough."

Dux gave him a mean glare, the top of his balding scalp aglow in the hanging lamp light. "If you didn't fall asleep half the damn time I wouldn't have to resort to violence in the first place." He stepped back toward the map and jabbed a finger at it. "We've a quarter legion of rebels in that fort, which is nigh impenetrable last I checked, and the only suggestion I've heard from you so far is how best to catch up on sleep."

"Sleep is a vital part in any army," Magus suggested. "Have you thought about giving it a try?"

The frown on Dux's face deepened. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Magus waved a flippant hand. "Oh, yes. Fine, fine. Don't listen to the all-powerful magician who can manipulate reality itself. Let us ignore the one man here whose knowledge spans ten times your own. Just don't come crying to me when you pitch over from exhaustion."

Libro didn't know whether to pack up his Archive and leave or to stay and watch. He'd seen the two of them bicker before, but even he could sense the growing tension. Dux leaned over the table top, hands tightly clenched as if considering how best to strangle the magician. Magus, meanwhile, had his arms folded together, long sleeves draped around him, one finger tapping impatiently.

The two locked eyes and for a long moment said nothing to each other.  Then, Dux began to laugh. "Guess you've a point there, old friend. Feels like I haven't slept in days."

Magus twirled a finger in the air. "I could help with that, you know."

Dux waved him off. "Later, once we've dealt with the rebels." The Captain turned his attention elsewhere. "Libro."

"Yes, sir?" Libro jumped eagerly from his seat. "What can I do to help?"

Dux snorted. "Well, for starters you can stop calling me sir." He cocked one bushy brow skyward. "As I have told you for the past three years now."

"Yes si—, I mean yes, Captain."

"Good. Now would you mind grabbing me that map over there? The big one with the red seal on it, if you please."

Libro did as such, pulling the scroll from a nearby shelf and placing it in the Captain's outstretched hand.

"Thank you kindly," Dux said. He popped the wax seal open and rolled the vellum out onto the table amidst the scattered figurines. "Now, if you've finished your nap, magician, can we proceed with the task at hand?"

"Yes, yes. By all means, please continue," Magus said. Already his eyes were beginning to droop as he nestled back into his chair.

Dux fixed Magus a sour look before turning away. "Libro!"

"Yes, Captain?"

Dux beckoned him over. "Come here, lad." 

Hesitantly, Libro set his quill down and closed the Archive, the thick, heavy tome giving an audible thump. He stepped close, eyeing the assortment of maps on the table.

Dux waved a hand over them. "What do you think?"

Libro gave him a curious look. "What do I think about what?"

"About this." And Dux traced a line around a map of the hillside, finger brushing past figurines and over elevation lines. "The logistics. The placements. All of it. Tell me what you see."

It was a test, Libro realized. For years now the Captain had occasionally called him over, pointing at something on a map and asking for his opinion. At first he'd stumbled terribly over the answers, mumbling something that would leave the Captain shaking his head with disapproval, but as time went on he started to find his answers to be a little more concise, a little more clear, his understanding of military tactics and careful planning growing with them. The only thing that remained unanswered, however, was the question as to why the Captain felt compelled to ask Libro. He was their Chronicler, after all. A glorified historian, not a tactician. Leave that kind of stuff to the real soldiers.

Still, Libro studied the map intently. The hill lay spread out before him, a fingers length from the symbol marking the Vangen encampment. Two figurines stood west of the hill, a few more scattered further north where the forest met the valley.

Libro frowned as he searched for the right words. "It appears we have the rebels surrounded." He looked up to Dux. The man wasn't smiling. Indeed, it looked as if he'd lost the point altogether. Libro gave a sidelong glance over at Magus. The magician carefully slipped a hand from his sleeve and made a slow, circular motion, gesturing to continue.

Libro licked his lips. "And," he stuttered, thoughts racing, "It appears you've made sure that key points in the western and the northern portions of the valley remain securely held. No doubt reinforced by the other Tribunes."

"And why are these points important?" Dux asked.

Libro didn't have the foggiest idea. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and stared back down, as if the map would somehow reveal its secrets to him the longer he looked at it. He tried to think of something, anything before the silence became unbearable. What would have Chronicler Phasis seen in this situation? Or Chronicler Biblia? They were the strategists of their times, not him.

And then he saw it. A faint white line in the hillside where the land dipped down ever so slightly into a nearby cave. "There's a shepherd's path to the west here." Libro pointed at the map. "The rebels could use that as a means to send out messengers for reinforcements."

Dux's emerging smile felt like the sun's warmth on a cold day. "That's right."

Libro felt his heart swell with pride as he slid his finger up north. "And up there is a cave system. I'm betting the fort used to be part of an old mining town. Unguarded, it could lead the rebels right towards the main road. We'd be sitting ducks if they flanked us in a surprise attack."

"Exactly!" Dux clapped Libro on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Well done, lad. You're finally getting the knack for this."

Heat crept into Libro's cheeks. "Please sir, it was just—," His sentence was cut short from a commotion outside. Dux stood up straight, one hand resting dangerously close to the ax belted at his side. Even Magus was fully alert. The tent flap whipped open and a man clad in imperial armor burst through, followed quickly by two red faced guardsmen.

"Captain Dux!" The man said, his whole body caked in mud and road dust. One eye stood out wide and wild looking, the other hidden behind a mop of wet, black hair. A guardsman tried to grab him, but the man pulled away, hissing with pain at an old wound in his side. "Please, I have to speak with you!"

"What's the meaning of this? Who is this man?" Dux demanded. His face settled into the familiar hard gaze of his Captain's persona. The iron mask Libro called it. A look baring no emotion. Just hard eyes and a hard frown that beget nothing.

"I'm sorry, Captain," one of the guardsman said. "We tried to stop him, but the devil ran right past us."

"My name is Rodan! I bear a message from the Empress!" The man said through clenched teeth. He pried open the satchel around his shoulder and fished out a small leather package, the Empresses symbol set in a wax seal.

Everyone froze. Indeed, it felt like time itself had stopped, Libro's gaze never leaving that forboding seal. Slowly the two guardsmen backed away, disappearing wordlessly behind the tent flap.

"From the Empress, you said?" Dux asked, his voice lacking the deep, commanding power it once held.

"Yes," said Rodan nervously. "She said it was of upmost importance that it reach you." Dux took the package gingerly into his hands. With a slow, almost holy reverence he popped the seal and untied the leather thong binding it together. Inside was a neatly written letter, ink like the color of dry blood.

Dux read over the words, lips moving silently as he mulled them over. When he finished reading, he snapped his attention back to Rodan, face growing paler by the second. "Did She say anything else on the matter?"

"No, only that it was urgent. You wouldn't believe how many horses I killed from exhaustion just to get this to you."

"I can only imagine, son." Dux folded up the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket. "You've done exceptional service for the Empire today. The Vangen will provide you with food, water, and rest for as long as you need."

"Thank you Captain, but I can't go back," Rodan said.

"Can't go back?" Libro's brows bunched furiously together. "What in the seven hells are you talking about?"

"Hush," Dux hissed. Libro shrank back, feeling suddenly like a child scorned by his father. "It looks like you've got no choice but to join us then. You know what that means, right?"

Now it was Rodan who turned pale. "I've only heard the rumors."

"Then let me help separate fact from fiction. You join the Vangen, and you join for good, son. You can forget about your old life. Your past. Your name. That'll be long gone."

Rodan sniffed, his lower lip starting to tremble. "I don't have much of a choice though, do I?"

"Everyone's got a choice. Yours is either service or death."

"Then I choose service." Rodan placed a fist over his heart, the palm of his other hand flat against the knuckles. "For the Empire."

Dux mimicked the gesture. "For the Empress. Now, go find our quartermaster. He goes by the name of Hordie. He'll give you some new clothes and a better weapon then that dagger sheathed in your boot." Rodan looked down, surprised that the Captain had even noticed.  Even Libro was impressed. From all the confusion, he hadn't seen anything.

"And once you're done with that," Dux concluded. "You'll need to pick a new name."

"A new name, sir?"

"You're a Greenhorn now, but once you've earned a few stripes you can call yourself whatever you want." Dux held out a hand. Rodan, or the man formerly known as Rodan, took it weakly into his own. "Welcome to the Guard, son. Don't ever call me sir again. It's Captain, or Dux, or both. Dismissed."

The former Imperial soldier stood there stunned for a moment before his senses returned and he stiffly marched out of the tent. For a while, only silence held the air.

"Magus," Dux finally said. "Aend up a signal flare for Culter and Nox. Let them know it's time to come home." The magician nodded and left without a word. "And you, Libro."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Civis and Regis should be back by now. Send out the word that they should report to me as soon as possible."

"Yes. Right away, Captain." Libro turned and dashed out of the  tent, running into the rain as a sharp clap of thunder shook the land. An ill omen to be sure.