Items shipped, Kurikuneku to Carakhte, arriving on the third day of the ninth week of Summer, 244 YT:

Rations approximating three hundred and thirty six thousand units, that is, a year’s supply for a garrison of one thousand active-march soldiers. Ammunition approximating forty rounds per rifleman currently resident in Carakhte. Gaurl Wine approximating five hundred casks, approved only for special occasions. Engravings for the Garrison Commander. Sealed. No one but the Garrison Commander is to open the seal, under any circumstances. Thermite approximating two thousand pounds, for purposes of the advance to Kivv. Authority over these dangerous substances is to be in the hands of the Garrison Commander. Five hundred Codex volumes. Armor parts approximating fifty new suits of armor, for patching equipment among the Carakhte garrison.

-Shipping manifest approved by Zhiren

Summer, 244 YT: Kurikuneku

“And your most recent set of orders has been sent out to all the relevant parties.” Zhiren’s attendant leaned back, a thin smile on her lips as the Heir of the Host knelt in front of her. The water in the basin sloshed at its container’s rim, Zhiren’s hands dry and cracked from the washing.

“Very good,” Zhiren said. “And you’ve of course handled the preparations for deployment of the army… then, has there been any further word from the north?”

“God already marches to Carakhte. The Host only waits for you to join him.” The attendant rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder, savoring the freeing feeling of crackling in her joints, the warmth of the water and the air in the room. Slowly she stood up, stretching out her arms, making circles in the air. Zhiren stood up beside her.

“So then, the final shipment has arrived in the border town?”

“Yes.”

“And what of our saboteurs?”

“The team to be send to Kivv? They’re already departing, and well on their way.”

Zhiren nodded at that, walking toward the window behind his desk. He took a breath and let Enki’s mind fill his for a moment, and listened above and below. There was a shuffling of feet in the rooms beneath him, but above, silence. Gaius Host of God was not in His Tower.

“And the one that the armies brought before me, the one who leads these saboteurs? Has there been any word of her, since she left from this place?”

“I’ve watched her since she was in this city, all the way to Carakhte. She’s a strong one, unstable but strong. She’ll serve your purpose quite well.” The attendant came to stand beside Zhiren, tracking water across the floor. Zhiren wrinkled his nose in distaste, subdued but unhidden.

“I see.” Zhiren nodded, focusing on his translucent reflection in the window. The face that looked back nearly startled him when he saw it – haggard, flushed with stress and worry. His hair, brushed with shining oil, hung from his head in a crown of beauty. He felt the sudden, self-conscious urge to cover his face, to hide the bags under his eyes and the inkstain on his cheek where he’d rested his hand.

“There is something else you must know,” said the attendant. Zhiren sighed, glancing away from his reflection in the glass, avoiding the eyes of his attendant, looking down at the desk. He felt more than heard the sudden rush of air around him, the silent warning of Thoth. Air brushing against the back of his neck, like the breeze on the open plains north of the city. Then the air whipped about him like the wind on the mountaintops, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He looked up at his attendant. She was undisturbed. The two of them stood indoors, where no wind could touch them. Thoth’s voice whispered at the back of Zhiren’s mind, but quiet, incomprehensible, like the buzz of an insect beneath the register of true hearing.

“It is believed by many of the Enforcers that there is a traitor within Carakhte, planning to sabotage the movement north. That this traitor has been gathering up followers from the surrounding villages, from the southern Vale, and stealing them into the city under cover at night. That they are planning, when the time comes, to overtake the garrison and turn Carakhte from our border town into their border fortress. It will be their bulwark against the Invictans.” The attendant’s voice grew quiet and low.

“And even if they could take such a bulwark, would we not simply come over the sea?” Zhiren snapped impatiently, finally turning to his attendant. “Oh, how we’d bend the waters to our will, its wrath our answer to those who would deny us.” He took a slow breath, put his hands to his hair, ran his fingers through the fine strands. “And what of this traitor, is anything known of this person?”

“Luca Buday,” said the voice of Thoth.

“She is said to be a person of no consequence –“

“Buday,” Zhiren whispered. “I know that name. I remember that name. But that family is dead. Our armies saw to that many years ago.

“I do not know the name,” said the attendant.

“You wouldn’t.” Zhiren chuckled bitterly. “Children, of course, care only for the present. One only grows and becomes an adult when one has knowledge of the time before one’s birth and concern for the time after one’s death.”

“None who could be worthy to stand before you can call themselves children, Priest Zhiren.” The attendant lowered her head, bowing. Strands of hair, sticking to her brow, cloaked her face. Zhiren scoffed.

“It doesn’t matter, regardless. What does it really mean if this traitor of ours manages to bring a thousand of them into Carakhte? Those duplicitous cowards? What can they do? We’re marching to Kivv, and nothing will stop that.”

Zhiren’s attendant blinked, concern in her eyes. “Are you not worried for what might happen there?”

“No,” Zhiren said. “Everything can continue exactly as before. Carakhte won’t be a problem anymore once we move north, will it?”

“But –“

“By the time they move to take the garrison, it will be far too late for them. Carakhte won’t be a problem anymore.”