Ahrman empire capital city of Parigrah

“Haggard Laid To Waste!” screamed a newspaper headline.

There wasn’t a soul on the streets whose eyes weren’t fixated on the single page publication. However, the cause of the city’s fate was left for the readers to ascertain.

Was Haggard struck by a natural disaster?

Did the beasts from the Hunt get loose?

What could have happened?

Highlights from yesterday’s Verglas game, the expected story of the week, was limited to a short paragraph in the bottom corner. For once, sports weren't on the minds of the Ahrman people.

Or King Lisador.

The middle-aged king stood before tall windows overlooking the city he called home; the people he was ordained to serve. How quickly it could all come to naught.

“Are you suggesting we do nothing, Benneth?!” the king asked, peering over his shoulder.

King Lisador was joined by Sisten, Breuke, Lieutenant Alba, and one of his advisers, Benneth. Out of the four men in the room, Benneth was the shortest and the only one with an extra chin. On a usual day, he would be enjoying his third meal of the morning, not advising the king.

Benneth placed his cup of tea down on the small table situated between two long couches. “All I’m saying is that we should not rush into a mistake. The Midaharians anticipate that we would do so. Scouts say that they have increased military presence on their borders by a hundred percent. My advice would be to wait a short time and strike them when they least expect it.”

“Benneth makes a good point,” Alba said, his legs crossed at the knees. “We don’t know what else Emperor Taimoor has up his sleeves. What if the next city he targets is where we sit?”

“Alba’s right,” Breuke said. “We can’t afford to wait.”

“We’re not,” the king insisted. “Come up with a strategy, Benneth.”

Benneth raised his shoulders. “Fine, fine. I don’t know why I was even summoned to this meeting if you’re not going to heed my advice.”

The men turned their attention to a soldier entering the room holding a folded piece of paper. “Your majesty,” he said, lowering his head.

“What do you have?” asked the king.

The soldier stepped forward. “A report from the recovery team and Lady Tasha in Haggard.”

“Have they located any survivors?” asked Sisten.

“Read the report, soldier,” the king ordered.

“Yes, your majesty.” He unfolded the paper and cleared his throat. “Out of the two-hundred and nineteen thousand men, women and children that lived in Haggard, and possibly ten thousand more who gathered for the annual Hunt, none of them were found alive. The remains that were uncovered were too brittle to move. There were witnesses on rooftops that saw a chariot flying over the downtown district before the sky opened up. Midaharian flags were on that chariot.”

Sisten slammed his fist on the table, setting the tea set into motion. Benneth quickly grabbed his cup from the table.

“Two Rebirths were also recovered from the ruins.” The soldier lowered the paper. “Lady Tasha requested that she keeps the one she calls lightning.”

“Thank you, young man. You’re dismissed.”

The soldier lowered his head and backed out of the room.

The king stepped down to floor level, adjusting his sleeve cuffs. “Sisten, I trust you can place that Rebirth in the appropriate hands. Advisor Benneth, you have two hours to craft an attack strategy and not a second more. Breuke, ensure that our army is properly outfitted and ready to mobilize.”

"I know this isn't the appropriate time to ask, but I wager that the search for Aiden is to be postponed?" asked Alba, as the others exited the room.

"For now, Alba," the king responded.

"Very well. I suppose I can find another way to pass the time."

 

Khalina Island

 

Two hundred miles off the eastern coast of the Midaharian continent sat the world’s second-largest island nation of Khalina. Its sandy white beaches attracted many, but few ventured farther into the dense tropical jungle which mapped out ninety percent of the island.

It wasn’t the dry heat that kept visitors confined to the beaches; it was the group of women that lived there.

Circular dwellings with cone-shaped thatched roofs dotted clearing carved out of the jungle. Despite the untamed wilderness around them, the housings were constructed with modern materials.

Under the brutal sun, two dozen women practiced their daily combat training at the stringent command of a drill sergeant. A moist potpourri of decaying plant life and musty bodies only exacerbated the grueling experience.

Personal bodyguards to the former empresses, the women of Khalina island were deemed ‘warrior women’ because of their exceptional fighting skills and rigorous training. Once the current emperor rose to power, many of the women were dismissed back to the island.

But training continued.

Common women from both Midaharia and Ahrmania had been known to travel there for self-defense training. However, few have ever completed the full course.

The drill sergeant of the day was tall enough to look most men in the eyes. If she were any more toned, she would be mistaken for one. But her femininity excelled in all the right places.

Those under her command weren’t natives to the island. Most were plump, hoping to shed extra pounds. Others held different desires to satisfy.

“Amara!” the drill sergeant called, letting her whip unravel to the ground. In a snap, the weapon was wrapped around Amara’s neck. The drill sergeant yanked her to the grass.

“You still hold your sword like a housewife!” the drill sergeant said, putting her leather boot on Amara’s back. “Why do you waste my time, woman? Go home and clean some pots with those hands.”

Amara turned over, knocking the drill sergeant off. “I didn’t come here to be abused!” Amara muttered under her voice.

The drill sergeant pulled her up with the whip. “What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t come to this awful place to be abused!”

With a smile, the drill sergeant loosened the whip. “You, with the man hair!” she said, pointing to one of the trainees. “Come over here and kill her!”

The woman with a slender build looked around then pointed at herself. “Me?”

“Yes, you! Get it done!”

“I--I don’t think I know how to do that, ma’am.”

Amara picked up her sword and charged the drill sergeant, knocking her off her feet. “How am I holding my sword now?” she asked with her blade a breath away from the drill sergeant’s jugular.

Pulling her legs up, the drill sergeant grabbed Amara’s weapon hand and crossed her ankles around her neck. After a quick roll, she pinned Amara to the ground. “Like a pathetic housewife!”

“Now I’m pathetic, huh?” Amara grumbled, breathing heavily.

“Go back to the desert,” the drill sergeant ordered, pulling Amara off the ground.

“I’m not giving you the satisfaction!” Amara said, bumping her shoulder as she walked away. She collected her weapon and rejoined the other trainees.

"Uhm, am I still supposed to kill you?" 'man hair' asked.

"Go ask her," Amara said, wiping a sticky mix of sand and sweat from her brow.

"I don't want to. She might say 'yes'."

A group of women wearing lightweight combat armor darted out of a hut, short swords at their sides. The drill sergeant continued watching them until they moved out of sight.

The problems brewing around the outside world hadn’t reached the isle of women.

Until now.

One of the women ran ahead to a closed metal gate affixed to a ten-foot brick wall. “State your business here,” a woman asked the persons on the other side.

“I want to speak to one of the elders here,” Aiden said.

The woman arched an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”

“It’s --”

“Aiden,” came a stern voice, completing the young man’s answer.

A much older woman stood just beyond the gate guards. Her entire body was draped in a robe that scraped the ground. Arms folded across her chest, she kept her hands buried in long sleeves.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, Rebirth Destroyer.”

 

Back in Parigrah

Before the citizens of the capital had time to digest the unbelievable news of Haggard's destruction, a second edition of the Parigrah newspaper was rushed to the streets. The paper would normally only release a paper a week. Having two on the same day raised many eyebrows.

It was a single page special announcement by the king himself.

"People of Parigrah. By now you've heard of the devastation that had befallen our countrymen in Haggard. I'm certain some of us knew someone who was lost during the attack. What happened to the great city of Haggard was an act of war, planned and executed by the Midaharian Emporer. Thousands of our fellow Ahrmanians were murdered in his unhinged lust for world domination."

"This unprovoked attack won't go unanswered. In a few hours, I, the royal guard, and our brave soldiers strike back with the full force of our military. We're not returning until we punish those responsible for the loss of innocent Ahrmanians."

"And they will be punished!"

Within the walls of the king's estate, Lisador slipped into a brilliant, deep green colored chainmail with brown straps. His grandfather was the last person to have worn it in battle. Tapering it here and there was an investment well worth it.

"So, it's true," came a woman's voice. Her medium length red hair rested lightly on her short shoulders. "You are going into battle."

The king smiled and turned to the woman. "Katherine, I wasn't expecting to see you before I left."

"My trip concluded early," Katherine said, folding her arms beneath a chest screaming to escape a close-fitting dress. "It's a good thing too. I get to see you off before you make a widow out of me."

"You have my permission to run the kingdom as you see fit."

"My first order of business would be to send your whore back to her father."

Lisador took her by the waist and pulled her close. "I thought you liked Sia."

The queen's palm lightly struck Lisador's cheek. "That's how much I like Sia."

"I'd better get moving," Lisador grinned and left Katherine's side.

"Why, no kiss good-bye?" Katherine asked, turning to the departing king.

"Please, we both know it wouldn't stop at one kiss."

As he left his royal chambers, the king caught a glimpse of Sisten patrolling the estate's grounds. By Lisador's request, Sisten was to remain in the capital, a decision the bareheaded rune bearer argued against. The Midaharians clearly anticipated exactly what the empire was about to do. Leaving one of his best royal guards to defend the city was a necessary move.

The enemy was smart; now, more than ever, the Ahrman Empire had to be smarter.