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Occupied Territory: MoonSide
21st Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
A new dream takes form—not one that remembers the past, one that examines the future.
Unisa stands at the gates of the Library, wearing the black tunic. She smiles widely at tight, ore cages filled with Doruh children, including the boy from yesterday.
Her lips part and Alba’s voice erupts from her throat, stating, “Welcome to the Library.”
She jolts awake. Sweat charges down her temple, her heart racing. Deep breaths settle her pulse as the boy’s face evaporates. Alba’s harsh words from the night before echo through her ears.
We are all responsible.
Unisa watched a Braver murder him. Alba watched. The world watched and did nothing because of the festering lies. Because everyone believed a dangerous radical was trimmed down before it bloomed, and a valiant warrior was simply doing his job.
Unisa runs her hands over her face and pushes the thoughts from her mind.
Alba’s bed lies empty and neatly made. Her bags sit on it, packed and ready. Rolled paper peeks from one, reminding Unisa of Alba’s cartophilia.
A short wooden table between the beds holds three plates of food, a note wedged between them: I had to step out. I’ll be back shortly. Have something to eat and be ready to leave by the time I get back. -Alba
There’s an uneasiness in Unisa’s core when she reads Alba’s name. A loss of respect, and a lack of trust, stemming from the realization that revered Librarians like Alba can look away as an entire species gets slowly strangled into extinction. That they can remain silent as the lower ranks continue to be unwittingly manipulated.
The wafting aromas from the plates of food command her attention, and her mouth begins to water. A sign reads “Alu Paratha” next to a stack of flavorful flatbreads with seasoned potatoes inside. Another plate carries three eggs prepared with runny yolks, and at the center of the table is a cup of masala chai.
Unisa attacks the breakfast. She’s experienced traditional Doruh cuisine from the restaurants in the Library, but there’s no comparison between roses in a vase and those in a garden.
Before packing up, Unisa oils her braids, letting them drape her shoulders like long black tendrils cascading down the side of a glorious oak. She then wraps them in a tight bun for the journey.
The door creaks open and Alba enters the room, igniting Unisa’s uneasiness. The Ambassador’s eyes dart down to the empty plates and then to Unisa’s packed bags.
“I see you found my note,” she says, plainly.
“Where were you?”
“Arranging transportation to PeakHaven Pass. The original schedule was to reach SunSide by nightfall today, and we still may be able to make it.”
Taking up their bags, they exit the inn into a crowded MoonSidian marketplace. They pass Sultana’s Chai Palace, the tea house outside of which Unisa sat the day before, and the angi notices a sign in the window reading “New Server Needed.” It’s a reminder that this village of broken homes, depleted resources, and suffering citizens is more than just idle, available land for an occupying force to consume.
It’s a community.
Alba leads Unisa through an alley between two buildings and into an open field with a stout stone wall at the far end. Standing at one of the gates built into the wall is a tall wooden buggy.
The back of the buggy is a long cart with short benches along the inside, upon which Unisa counts seven travelers. Some wear shalwar kameez or saris, others are in casual kurtas and loose lounge pants. The travelers huddle together, staying close and quiet, bags at their feet and anxious glares in their eyes.
Unisa follows Alba to the front of the buggy, where three Doruh stand: a man, a woman, and a young boy, who is maybe twelve or thirteen years old. The boy is the only one clothed.
Alba drops a handful of colorful stones into the woman’s palm. “Thank you for waiting for us, Diya.”
Diya smiles and nods. “Of course, Ambassador. It is our family’s honor to assist your journey. My son”—she gestures to the boy—“can help you to your seats.”
“That won’t be necessary. Do you remember our deal?”
Diya nods again. “You will be in SunSide by nightfall. I will increase our speed and surpass as many stops as needed. The other travelers have been notified.”
Alba smiles. “Wonderful, thank you.”
The Librarians hoist themselves onto the cart from the rear, and slowly wade through hunched, isolated travelers. They find two seats next to an older woman with her arms wrapped around a young girl. Unisa estimates she is younger than ten.
The angi leans back over the edge of the cart and peers to the front, where Diya and the nude man shift. Their deep golden skin turns into a lighter brown as their necks elongate and sprout manes of thin hairs. Their arms and legs stretch, and the nails on each hand and foot thicken and widen, wrapping around to become sturdy hooves.
Their transformations complete into two massive, majestic horses. Diya’s son straps driving harnesses to them, then climbs onto the driver’s bench and gently instructs them to move. With an unexpected jerk, the horses pull the buggy and the final leg to SunSide begins, leaving Evic behind.
Buggies aren’t built for comfort, but Unisa feels safer as they get further from the Bravers and the occupation. She recognizes the ludicrousness of this feeling—a protected Librarian amongst huddled masses, yearning for freedom. How must they feel, leaving everything behind for an uncertain future?
The buggy winds through narrow paths between fields of farmland. The anxious postures and troubled expressions of the old woman and the young girl next to them remain intact throughout the journey. Despite the distance from Evic, none of the travelers appear to feel at ease.
Unisa continues to thrust her uneasiness with Alba to the back of her mind, but the reverent image she once held of the Ambassador, and all Librarians of her rank, has become stained. Alba periodically sparks conversation, and Unisa tries to maintain cordial banter to hide her feelings.
“Unisa,” Alba says after long minutes of tense silence, “I’m sorry for the way in which you discovered the truth, and for the role I played in it.”
Unisa’s heart sinks. She hadn’t realized her body language betrayed her concerns. “Last night was...difficult.”
“I know,” Alba acknowledges, “but we are still a long way from SunSide. I need to know that you can put what you’re feeling aside, and we can address it later. It’s the only way I can protect you.”
Protect. The word carries Unisa to realization: Alba has been protecting her, since before the journey began, and she continues to do so.
Despite their silence, despite their blind eyes, revered Ambassadors were once Gatekeepers and Scribes and Recorders, manipulated all the same. Alba more so than anyone else, having lived a life under the Prime’s nose.
And yet she stands against him, freedom in jeopardy, to protect Unisa. The realization banishes her uneasiness. She smiles and nods, allowing her body language to convey her trust.
The farmlands eventually give way to more stone buildings, and settlement walls grow from the landscape. Traveling high on hilltops, Unisa peers into the prosperous communities beyond the walls—endowed with plenty, never having to wait or want for anything.
A stark contrast to their Doruh neighbors.
The Bravers return with the walls, causing the huddled travelers to pray and release rigid breaths. Unisa’s concern for their safety mounts.
The buggy comes to a sudden stop and Diya’s son turns to address the travelers. “We’ve reached a checkpoint. Keep your heads down and speak only when spoken to. If you must, speak quickly. We’ll be back on the road as soon as possible, with no trouble.”
His mature presence of mind is sharply juxtaposed with his age. It’s eerie and somewhat sad. What does this boy know of childhood?
The travelers follow the boy’s instructions. Their heads are down again, their body language consumed by fear. Adults hold tight to their children. Bags are pushed into the center, hoping to be checked quickly and returned, without a word.
Bravers surround the vehicle, and one in a red mask, hood raised over his head, climbs up onto the back of the buggy and begins rummaging through bags violently, dumping out the contents and throwing the empty sacks back down onto the bed of the cart.
The travelers wait for the Braver to move on before they reach down for their unpacked items and gather them into the bags again.
Unisa’s blood boils at the scene.
The Braver reaches Alba, Unisa, the old woman, and the young girl. He looks first at the Doruh, then turns to the Librarians and smiles.
“Ambassadors,” he says with a serpentine tone. “What brings you to MoonSide in such”—he examines the cart and passengers—“dire transport?”
“Necessity,” Alba responds, coolly. “Finish up your checks a little quicker. We’re on a schedule.”
The Braver’s eyes narrow and he reaches down for the old woman’s bag, pulling open the drawstring. He seems to be nearly finished when his hand finds something hard and wide at the bottom.
He withdraws a small black case and pops it open. Unisa sees a number of sharp objects inside: little knives, along with a small roll of bandages and some other tools that Unisa doesn’t recognize.
“What is this?” the Braver asks angrily.
“My tools,” the woman replies, wrapping her arms tighter around the young girl. “I’m a salver.”
The Braver looks from the woman to the tools and back up again. He snaps the case shut, then turns and tosses it off the buggy to another Braver standing behind it. “Your tools are being seized.”
“No,” the woman whimpers. “I need those. I don’t have money to buy more. I’ve spent everything I had to get us to SunSide.”
“You’re close to Arlun now, and you can’t pass through the city with potential weapons.”
The woman’s tone hardens, but she keeps her volume in control. “I’ve saved lives with those.”
The Braver’s hand flies to the back of the woman’s head and he grasps a thick handful of her hair, tugging at it. “Watch your tone, animal.”
The slur hits every traveler there, and they shudder. The young girl screams and starts to cry. Unisa instinctually pulls the Braver’s fingers off the woman’s head and pushes him back a step.
“Let go of her!” The words shoot off Unisa’s tongue before she can stop them. The involuntary action catches even her by surprise, as her eyes widen and she tightly purses her lips.
There’s a long, tense pause as the Braver processes: a Librarian twisted his fingers and shoved him backward. The old woman’s jaw hangs open.
The Braver’s gaze locks with Unisa. “You just assaulted a Braver.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Unisa stammers, her voice catching in her throat.
Her heart slams against her chest as the Braver raises his hand again, aiming for Unisa. She’s stuck on the bench with nowhere to go. The Braver gets closer until...
It’s stopped. Mari fingers grab tightly onto the Braver’s wrist and halt it.
“Have you lost your mind, or are you just stupid?” Alba asks the Braver, angrily. “She’s a Librarian.”
“I don’t care,” the Braver responds. “She assaulted me. That’s a crime.”
“Her crime was teaching you to use your words, not your hands. You’re about to violate intracontinental statutes. Big difference.”
The Braver growls. “Her immunity became void the moment she touched me.”
Alba’s tone is clear and calculated. “That’s not how immunity works, you imbecile. Pull your hand back or you’re going to lose it.”
The Braver scoffs and, with Alba’s fingers still tight on his wrist, continues to reach for Unisa. Alba bends the Braver’s arm and then jerks it sideways. A loud crack resounds, and the Braver stumbles backward, screaming. Alba withdraws the sword from the sheath on the Braver’s hip and in one fluid swing, severs his hand at the wrist.
The Braver falls backward off the rear of the carriage as blood sprays from his severed limb. Alba tosses the Braver’s sword off the back of the cart and onto the ground.
Standing tall and calm, she turns to another Braver, this one in a blue mask. “Director, the next time an officer tries to touch myself or my colleague, I’ll break them into so many pieces, you’ll have no idea how to put them back together again. Our immunity will be respected, or there will be momentous consequences. We will be neither touched, nor addressed, in a manner that we perceive unfit. Do we have an understanding?”
The Braver in the blue mask stands quietly for a moment, her gaze sizzling, then nods. “We do, Ambassador.”
“Good. Let every legion from here to SunSide know. This buggy will not be stopped again until it reaches the Pass. I don’t have time to mutilate more of your officers.”
She returns to her seat next to Unisa. The travelers hug their belongings and their loved ones tighter than they did before.
Unisa nearly jumps when a hand lands softly on her shoulder. She turns to see Alba, concerned, staring at her.
“Breathe, Unisa,” she says. “The color is draining from your face.”
The buggy moves, leaving the Bravers and the walls behind once again.
Arlun arrives after hours of watching verdant hills roll by.
“There are so few Bravers here,” Unisa notices, as they pass by the Doruh citizens on the city streets.
“Beyond city limits is PeakHaven Pass,” Alba explains. “Bravers assigned to Arlun are typically posted at the Pass to monitor the influx of travelers going into SunSide.”
Unisa lowers her voice as she speaks, so only Alba can hear her. “Why don’t more Doruh settle here? Instead of the occupied villages?”
“This is where the Alphocracy was massacred. Would you feel comfortable living in a place where even your warrior-leaders weren’t safe?” She turns to the suns. “We have about an hour and a half until sunsdown. I can’t believe it, but they actually got us here before nightfall.”
They reach the city limits and traverse a rocky path leading to the Pass. Something catches Unisa’s gaze that she hadn’t expected to see for many more years.
The PeakHaven mountain range towers over the gates of the Pass. The city of PeakHaven rests atop one of the snow-covered peaks. The place where she was born, and the place where her family still lives.
The family she had always believed had abandoned her. Alba’s words spring back up into her ears.
The words of this man you revere so much are the reason you were forsaken. You refuse to believe he would isolate Kanako from her family to take advantage of her. And yet, he did it to you.
Where once she held love for the Prime, she now finds hate. He has been toying with the lives of others since the beginning.
Where the field begins, Diya’s son stops the buggy and unhooks the harnesses, allowing his parents to shift back into their human forms. After thanking them, the Librarians continue through the field to join one of the lines leading to the gates.
The field is crawling with Doruh, Mega, and humans. There are far fewer humans than the other two species—a set of wings here, an exoskeleton there, fins elsewhere. And, of course, there are Bravers.
Everywhere.
Stationed in tents or at gates. Waving faerie families through the Pass with a smile, while turning Doruh away in tears. The contrast between the two classes of Bravers is stark: the class of Braver at the CereCenter, playing with children, and the class in Evic, murdering them.
Or, perhaps, the Bravers are the same and it’s the environment, the situation, that dictates their class.
As Unisa studies the field, she’s alerted to two Bravers standing uncomfortably close to her and Alba. They approach with their hands firmly on the hilts of their weapons. Two more Bravers approach from the other side in the same fashion. It isn’t until she makes a complete circle that a stark realization hits her.
They are surrounded.
Unisa taps Alba’s shoulder to get her attention, but the Ambassador has already noticed the approaching Legion.
“Good evening, Ambassador,” a Braver with a blue mask addresses Alba.
“How can I help you, Director?” Alba responds, the frustration evident in her tone. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
“Apologies, Ambassador, but before you make the trek into SunSide, you’ll have to come with us.”
Alba sighs. “The last Braver who attempted to detain us lost an appendage.”
The Braver raises her hands defensively. “No one desires to detain you, Ambassador. We wouldn’t make that mistake. This is a request.”
“Request denied.”
“Unfortunately, Ambassador, you’ll have to deny the request to the one who made it.”
Alba raises an eyebrow. “And who would that be?”
“The Facilitator.”
Alba turns to Unisa and holds eye contact for a moment, as if trying to make an assessment. She then turns back to the Legion Director and nods.
“Stay close,” she whispers to Unisa as they follow the Director back to one of the tents. The Bravers keep pace with the Librarians, and their perfect perimeter never wavers.
The Director enters the tent and gestures for the Librarians to follow, while the remaining Bravers stand guard at the front. The tent is nearly empty, save for a table holding a bottle of ale on the right, and a green-skinned, one-armed Mega in the center.
The MegaFather’s Facilitator. She’s heard of him, read of him—a shining example of loyalty to SunSide’s throne, something Unisa once thought was a virtue.
Not anymore.
“Alba,” he says in a silky voice, with a toothy grin. “How unusual of you to return to the kingdom so soon after you were just here.”
“This unprofessional request is unusual,” Alba counters.
“Unprofessional? How insulting.”
Something moves in Unisa’s peripheral vision. The bottle of ale and three empty glasses lift up off the table and hover toward them. The Facilitator is the only Mega in this tent, yet he isn’t moving a muscle.
How is he doing that?
“Is it unprofessional for us to share a drink?” Saith asks as the bottle hovers between them and begins to pour.
“Entirely,” Alba responds, flatly.
The bottle stops pouring, and Saith stops smiling. A gentle breeze blows and, as the moving air makes contact with the glasses and the bottle, they begin to disintegrate into tiny dust particles. The dust floats away with the breeze, as do golden streaks of evaporated ale.
“Get to the point, Saith,” Alba says. “We don’t have time for theatrics.”
The Facilitator’s tone hardens. “The MegaFather has been busy since you left, Ambassador. Whatever questions you have, I am here to answer them on his behalf.”
“You cannot provide the answers we seek. Only the MegaFather and the Members of the Assembly can do that.”
She turns quickly, taking Unisa’s hand and leading her back toward the tent’s exit. They stop when Saith speaks again.
“I urge you to reconsider, Ambassador,” he says, his tone almost frantic now.
The hairs on Unisa’s arms stand.
“My offer is beneficial for you, as well. Don’t prolong this journey unnecessarily.”
“Tell me something, Saith,” Alba says, facing him again. “How did you know we were coming?”
Saith pauses before he responds. “The Bravers are not only our warriors, they are also our eyes and ears.”
“Then I suggest you train them to stay far away from us. Or you’ll end up both blind and deaf.”
She turns quickly and leads Unisa out of the tent and through the field toward the gates. Unisa feels every Braver eye on them.
Alba leads her past the lines, directly to a gate.
“Wave us through,” she says to the Braver there.
“There’s a line,” the Braver responds.
“And we were removed from it involuntarily. Wave us through.”
The Braver looks past her, over her shoulder, back down the field. Unisa turns and sees that he is making eye contact with Saith, who is angrily standing at the entrance of the tent, staring at them.
Alba snaps her fingers in the Braver’s face, an inch from his nose, until he turns his attention to her.
“Listen to me carefully,” she says to him, “open the gate and wave us through. You don’t need to look at him for confirmation. I don’t take orders from him. Do you understand me?”
The tension mounts, as Unisa’s knees tremble. The Braver stares angrily into Alba’s eyes for some time before he nods and waves to the Bravers controlling the gate. It opens up.
Without another word, or a look back, Alba leads Unisa through the gates of PeakHaven Pass and in between the towering mountains.
Onward to SunSide.