Far across the world, on the other side of Neolys, a wagon rolls up behind two black stallions. The driver's steady hands pull the reigns, interrupting its uneven rumble. Two Ryoken soldiers stand in the middle of the road forbidding traffic to go where it was not allowed. At first sight, a soldier named Tejani walks coldly up to the wagon.

“Halt, you walk among the Ryoken landscape. You walk Lapona,” I say.

I make my approach as the wagon gets closer. It was night and I was tired, but ready to do my business.

My black helm rests on my head. Two pieces of metal guard my cheeks and a single extension covers my nose from beneath the brim of my helm. I walk in the direction of the wagon, feeling protected by my fitted armor and behind my tower shield. My bayoneted rifle sits tight across my back. My eyes are as disciplined as my voice, I walk faster and with purpose.

“Halt!” I say again.

Two black stallions stop dead in front of me. Their wagon rolls to an abrupt stop. I watch the driver of the wagon stand up from his seat and jump down in front of me. He approaches me and I swallow, ready to check his shipment. It was a collection of sealed envelopes. My dark figure approaches the man and he looks off into the distance.

Glimpses of purple hue permeate the night sky above. I always loved the gold and white stars. Time passes quickly while on duty, under the scenery of the countryside right outside the city. My second job was harsh at times, but road checks helped bring in extra income.

I take another look at the sky. I look behind me at the purple glow coming from the ground below. It was the night essence of a city called Lapona. It marked a low point in the landscape, which was my home now. My tribe knew well their history. Knowing this reassured me of what I stood for. My tribe was once the gateway to the northern part of our massive island continent. Now, we were mostly city and stage guards with only one area of our own. Many of us found refuge in Lapona.

My rifle strap rubs my shoulder. My footsteps fall on the stones beneath me. I look at the wagon driver. He had a sneer on his face, but his words were more cordial than he let off.

“Be careful who you stop city guard. One day you may find yourself without forgiveness.”

I narrow my gaze at the driver, who hands me a letter. I look at it. It was quite familiar. I open up the envelope. I run my fingers down the gold embroidery until they reach a lustrous seal. It was the bumpy emblem of hand-painted midnight blue. It was the seal of Lam Lathi.

The seal rests between my fingers and my eyes tremble, but I hold my discipline. I stare at the driver letting the night air play vapor with my breath. My frustration grows and then I release it.

“Move on,” I say

I watch as the driver climbs back into his seat. He grips the reigns once more. His sharp command tells his two stallions to resume their journey. The groomed manes of his horses glisten from the nearby torches and he looks deeply into my wavy and multi-colored brown eyes, which were much like his own. He picks up his whip and smiles at me.

“Good will Tejani Enathalis. All hail Lam Lathi. Blessings on the Broken Sun.”

The driver observes me and I become uneasy. It was hard to recognize everyone. There was too much traffic for me to remember, but the driver remembered me. I watch as his head turns with his passing wagon. He keeps staring into my eyes, as if he could taste my fear and emotions that lay trapped behind my covered mouth.

I wear a bandanna over my mouth like all the Ryoken tribes. It's a custom and it's a tradition. It means true love. If you venture among us, you will soon learn all about it. Now, is the wrong time and place to explain things. I'm on duty.

I stare at the driver once more. His eyes get smaller in the distance. The wagon rumbles on. I motion to the guard next to me to move further down the road. A torch was going out and needed to be re-lit. The sound of wagon wheels slowly fades.

I become frustrated as the driver leaves my view. I had no means of fighting back. I was a city guard for now and no one challenged the name of Lam Lathi. No one. The tribes which composed it were known as the Broken Sun. They were uniting the tribes and building an empire. My boots scuff the stone road and I mourn. I knew by morning, my entire city would be enslaved. There was nothing I could do about it.