“Let it be known that I am Emperor Aivor, first of my line, host of God. The appointed time has come and the long-awaited promise fulfilled. With the founding of the Second Solist Dynasty, I hereby call all good and loyal Solists to the embrace of God, to the Gaurl Core, that they may serve me well, and become great, and rebuild Glory and Order in this duplicitous new world.”

-Declaration of Emperor Aivor I, 102 YT.

Etyslund: 243 YT, Autumn. Two days after the execution of Marga Zelenko.

Plato’s body was cold by the time Cigdem found it, and Zoe lay nearby, head bleeding in at least two places, lips cracked by her own teeth, broken arm stuck unmoving under the rest of her body. Zoe slipped in and out of consciousness, and Cigdem, kneeling next to Plato’s corpse, found himself wondering idly if his chief scout would survive the ordeal. He hoped she’d pull through, of course, but if she didn’t, the mission could still continue. Plato’s loss would be a far greater loss of morale to the entire unit, and even as he retrieved the equipment that hadn’t been looted, Cigdem ran through ways he might make Etyslund pay for what they’d done. He looked over a mess of broken machinery and discarded weapons in Stepan Zelenko’s old office. The radio apparatus with which the man had attempted contacting Kivv was still not only broken, but pieces of it now lay strewn across the floor.

Zoe spoke quietly from beside Cigdem: “Kamila… Zelenko…”

At that, Cigdem’s attention snapped back to Zoe. He turned away from Plato’s body and leaned over toward Kamila. With one hand, he reached out, felt at Zoe’s forehead. Blood still oozed from a gash there, sticky on Cigdem’s fingertips. “Zoe…” he began, softly. He reminded himself of his position and authority, and spoke sternly: “Zoe. Wake up. What do you remember?”

Zoe seemed to grow a bit more alert at Cigdem’s words, and she struggled up into a proper seated position. Good start. She gasped in pain and settled back against the wall, then her gaze travelled over to where Plato’s body lay. Zoe blinked. “Pla… Plato?”

“He’s dead,” Cigdem grunted, breaking eye contact. “What happened?”

“Kamila Zelenko… that girl, the daughter of the Mirshalite we caught two days ago. She attacked me.”

“So it wasn’t the owner of this library, then? Stepan, was that his name?”

“I…” Zoe shook her head, raised her hand to her forehead and rubbed at it. Her fingers came away stained with fresh blood. “I don’t remember. I just know Kamila attacked me. I was… trying to…” her eyes unfocused.

“What? What were you trying to do?” Cigdem grabbed Zoe by the shoulders, and she cried out in pain, pulled back out of his grip and into the wall. Cigdem winced, a lance of sympathetic pain spiking through him. He stood up. “I’m sorry. What were you –“

“Plato had a plan,” Zoe said. “He said we could catch the other Mirshalites if I followed his plan. He just needed me to…” She trailed off.

“To do what? What did Plato need from you?”

“…I don’t remember.”

Cigdem stifled a curse and leaned against the wall. “Well, Plato didn’t tell me a single cursed thing about this plan of his, whatever it was, and we can’t exactly ask him now. Can you stand?”

Zoe laughed. “Don’t think so,” she said after a while. “My arm’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure looks like it.” Cigdem sighed. “I’ll carry you, and we’ll get you to the medic.”

“Ha… what was his name…?” Zoe turned her head towards Plato’s corpse. “The medic, I mean. I can’t remember his name.”

Cigdem grunted. “Doesn’t matter. That’s not what you get paid for.”

“Ha…” Zoe laughed again, a torn chuckle as heard through the crack under a locked door. “Right.”

“I’ll carry you,” Cigdem said, and, careful not to touch Zoe’s broken arm, he took her opposite shoulder with one hand, placed the other under her leg, and lifted her up into a standing position, leaning against Cigdem. “Come on. Come on.”

As they approached the doorway, there a loud squeaking noise, rusted door-hinges. Cigdem’s guards turned, facing the door at attention. The front door of the library opened, and Stepan Zelenko stepped inside. Both guards immediately leveled their rifles, and Cigdem, supporting Zoe’s barely-conscious form, slowly approached where Stepan stood. “Ah, you’ve returned to the scene.” Cigdem’s voice, gravelly and barely above a stage whisper, betrayed little emotion.

“The scene?” As far as Cigdem was concerned, Stepan’s surprise seemed genuine. “What happened here?” Then recognition dawned. “Kamila? Hilda?” He started to move, as if to break into a run. Cigdem held up a hand, and Stepan stopped in his tracks.

“It appears your daughters have fled after inflicting serious injuries on one of my soldiers and killing another.” Cigdem took another step forward. Zoe, still leaning against him, attempting to limp alongside him, looked up to see Stepan. Cigdem turned his head toward hers. There was little recognition in those eyes at all. Cigdem sighed and turned back to the Valer man. “Stepan Zelenko, you’re now my prisoner until we figure out exactly what happened here and where your daughters are headed. It’s clear that your entire family, at least, is deeply involved in this Mirshal business and seeing as you’re the one Zelenko who hasn’t vanished without a trace, you’re just going to have to do. Men, take this Valer into custody.”

The guards stomped their feet and, rifles brandished, approached Stepan. “Then Hilda and Kamila and Aleks are alive?” he asked, holding his hands up in the air.

“They do appear to be alive, yes,” Cigdem said. “How fortunate for you. If you help us locate them, you may just win your freedom.” At that, Zoe snorted bitterly.

“I don’t think so,” Zoe said. “The Zelenko girls will not be coming back if I’m correct.”

Cigdem leaned toward Zoe and whispered: “Did you remember something?”

“…Hilda. Kamila struck Hilda down before me. But then she took her, carried her off. They must have run away, and they’ll be far from here by now. The only way we’ll catch up with them is…”

“If I send you,” Cigdem finished. “Not going to happen, obviously. Besides, if they’re leaving, they’re heading to Kivv. We have to wait for the army to go to Kivv – one ranger unit against an entire city?”

Stepan gasped, and when Cigdem looked in the man’s direction, he saw knowledge in those eyes. “The army?” Stepan asked. “Kivv? You’re going to attack Kivv?”

“Don’t speak, Stepan. You’ve dug yourself a deep enough hole and if you want to get out of it alive you’re better off just keeping quiet. Men, let’s take him away. Come with me, back to the village center.”

Outside, the crude paths of the town – more trodden grass than true road, without so much as scattered gravel to mark the ways – were alive with activity. People standing outside their houses shouting, shoving at the soldiers who stood with their weapons brandished, nervous but stern, not sure just what to do. Cigdem led his guards, Zoe, and Stepan into the center of the village, trying to shut out the overlapping shouts from his mind:

“You should never have come here!”

“You got what you wanted, now go!”

“Come any closer and I’ll kill you!”

“Back off, I’ll shoot!”

“You’re the one who should be scared!”

“I’m warning you bumpkins, get back inside!”

The voices, Invictus and Valer, blended together in a cacophony.

Another voice, nearer to him, was far clearer, though. Zoe, drawing in a deep and agonized breath, asked, “Was it worth it? For one Mirshalite who might just as easily have been driven back to Kivv, to die with the rest? All this?” She laughed yet again, with no mirth at all. “I tried to understand. Plato, he… he had such equanimity. But in the end, he miscalculated, I think.”

“I know,” Cigdem said. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter. We do bad things so that other people don’t have to. That’s the nature of a soldier.” Zoe did not speak again, yet the shouting continued.

“Hey! You have no right!”

“Yeah, I don’t give a damn about your family unless you get back in the house!”

“This gathering is out of hand, you need to disperse!”

“You’re the ones who ne-“

When Cigdem fired his rifle into the air, the cacophony ended. The cloud of smoke around him made it impossible to see any of the other figures for a few seconds, but when the air cleared all eyes were on Cigdem. He scanned the crowd. There were few faces he recognized, as there’d been little opportunity these past days. One face, however, he did recognize.

Kalai. That ‘guard’ who attacked us when we first got here, one of the prisoners we released as a ‘token of our goodwill’.

“Kalai!” Cigdem shouted, aiming his rifle, bracing it against himself with one arm even as he held Zoe up with the other. He jerked his hand towards one of the other nearby soldiers and said, “Get Zoe to the medic. Now.” When he was relieved of his burden, Cigdem gripped the rifle with both hands and shouted: “I warned that you must not participate in any rabble-rousing, and look what you’ve done!”

Kalai, his hands remaining resting at his side, leaning against the doorpost of his home, stared back at Cigdem. “You are the one who started this, and I’ve done nothing but stand here. What am I supposed to think, that you’re here for our benefit?”

Cigdem steadied his rifle to fire.

“Stop!” The voice that rang out was steady, but young. A woman in a frock dress and thick boots stepped out in front of Cigdem. He did not lower his rifle, but turned his head to get a better look at her. “Stop!” she repeated. “We have your scouts, and if you want them back, you will have to negotiate with us. And tell your men to stand down!”