"Mono/Dialogue"

  'Inner thoughts'

  Narration

  [Message/communication apparatus]

  Date: July 1090

  Location: Somewhere in Sargon

  POV: Nyx

  Sands, dunes, sandstorms, more dunes, and finally an oasis. Dismounting from my steedbeast, I head for the clear water to refill. I do not bring my bike because it is undergoing another modification. It also worked nicely well to have Conrad disguise one of the exosuits as me and head the other way around.

  The best tricks are often the most simplified of them all just because it is so stupid such a thing would not be taken seriously. I bet the spies are going on a manhunt to find where the hell I went. I mean, it was not hard to imagine why people wanna keep tabs on me. No matter how good I try to keep things hidden, there will always be leaks, and then rumors start circuting.

  Turning my head around... yeah I found nothing around here. Just my steedbeast that looks like a mix of zebra and horse... with 2 horns sticking on the side like rams. It is very docile after I just stopped its charge with one hand. This wild beast behaved immediately after I showed it how easily I could crush rocks.

  So yeah... I... kinda... kidnapped it from its herd. Then again I doubt those guys would mind. I like walking, but even I got fed up with looking at nothing but the vast empty desert. Of course, hiding my face made a few idiots come out of the woodwork, but it meant little the moment the mask was off. They all scampered and I hadn't said anything yet.

  'Just how fearsome am I really? Back when I fetch stuff from Siesta's Mayor, they still try to nab me. These days thugs seem to be thinking they would have a better luck against waterfall... meh...'

  Taking a greedy gulp of my canteen, I proceed to continue my journey on the steedbeast.

  "Ok..., Nyx, back to work... Catastrophe Messenger would be furious if they know... too bad they don't~." I must say, getting a work from her could be very stressful but also exciting. Not often do I get a chance to savor the moment.

  POV: Narrator

  "First regiment get on the move already! Don't insult the Lord Ameer's venerable army or it would be your head and your families!" A Sargonian officer is barking orders towards a handful of conscripts being trained beneath the scorching heat of the sun. Luckily they are training near the many rivers that usually originate from Acahual.

  The officer continues his drills. All around him would be a sizable encampment to house the regional army. This pce is a fortress to safeguard the region's primary supply of water and trade routes. Raids from unruly tribals and notorious Sand Soldiers have been taking a toll on the commanding officer.

  "Bsted conscripts. Couldn't the Ameer send us a real army?" A high-ranking Feline said with utter disdain. He watches as the poorly trained and armed conscript is making a stain on his military record. They couldn't even march straight and drop their spears faster than they could pick them up.

  "We used to be fighting against those Azat's fools close and personal. To think that we would be stationed as an over-glorified sentry and chasing after rabbles... I cannot take this indignity!" He smmed the table in front of him. The assembled officer could only stare at nothing or awkwardly stay in silence.

  Some nodded at his words. They agree and find this strategic and logical position to be very boring and cking a chance to prove themselves. Well, it is very easy to boast about bravery when you're behind several ranks of infantry and then swoop in for the glory.

  Other than shameless attempts to curry favor or bnd idiocy, a sound that could be heard would be from a bright-haired maid pcing and repcing their beverages. The Feline commander noted that she looks quite enticing, especially accompanied by the luminous green of her hair that complement her Vouivre's nature well. Her emerald-like eyes hold an alluring grasp on him.

  He could not discern her face though... strange...

  "Gabram." He points at a Captain on the furthest seating on the table. He jerked when called by the commander, but complied nonetheless.

  "Yes, milord?"

  "... Hah... how bad was the raid yesterday?" He shifted on his chair before inhaling a fistful of oxygen.

  "W-We lost... the entire company has been wounded with more than 30% fatality rate." Numerous faces were made, especially the satisfied look of his rivals. His commander smiled upon hearing such a report... before smashing the table. It was split in two, scaring the maidservant that has been doing her duty silently. She was about to excuse herself, but he cut her off.

  "And where do you think you're going?"

  "U-Um... I would fetch the janitor, Milord."

  "No, come here." She complied with his words. That being said, he feels like something is amiss from watching her coming to him. Like a prickling sensation of needles scratching the back of his skull, or the sound of rusted metal being ground to bits. The man decided it was not worth it and banished the thought.

  Once she was close, he forcefully yanked her down and sat her on his p. The maidservant squirmed and her face went red even through the veil. That feeling came back, but it felt like it was a bde a millimeter away from cutting off his head.

  'Forget it...'

  "You will not leave my side unless ordered to."

  "... Yes, Milord."

  'Did she just gritted her teeth?' He asked inside his mind, then again what could she do? Vouivre is strong but if she is, then she would join the military already and not accept a lowly job such as this.

  The assembled officers, especially the female, could do nothing but acquiesce to his btant abuse. They were commoner, mostly, rising through the ranks but he has ties with Ameer himself. It was not worth it to endanger themselves to save some no-name maiden.

  "Continue."

  "Yes, milord! The raids by tribal groups have been increasing as of te. We are stretched too thin to maintain the safe passage."

  "Didn't I tell them to maintain communication within set intervals? How could they be so useless?"

  "Well... we are facing shortages of capable soldiers. Lord Ameer had been insisting on sending the-"

  "Rubbish. The Ameer had put his faith in them and they squandered them. I want those incompetents decimated. Tell their family that their sons and daughters were an embarrassment to their lineage."

  "B-but milord..." The Captain tried his best to stay polite. For the life of him, the sight of his lecherous commanding lord pying with the poor maidservant is doing insanely well to his patience. She is trembling from his touches but the Captain could only apologize silently. She doesn't even try to utter anything but... a whimper. Growl? Can't be...

  "If you do not comply, how about we send your battalion again? Surely that nephew of yours to be as skilled as you? Didn't you know that our Great Army doesn't tolerate nepotism?" His rival, and commander's yes-men, taunted him. He sucked in a heavy breath of air but relented. It is true, he use his authority to find him a job. He backed down.

  "... Acknowledged."

  "That's more like it, I expect you to act like to follow my lead. Now, Susan?"

  "Milord..."

  "Take your men to start a raid during the upcoming Bahadur Festival. Burn those vilges within Azat to the ground and bme it on the Sand Soldiers."

  "T-that's too far!" She is not objecting to the bming, but rather the occasion. Bahadur festival while no longer sacred, is still revered by the people. Lugalzargus often told in stories to even halt wars during this moment all by his lonesome if need be. This was done so they could remember that they must remember the moment when bloodshed be rested and swords be sheathed to appreciate life.

  He wonders what would their ancestor king feel if his example were tarnished so badly like this.

  "Oh really? Didn't those Azat bastards the one who killed your little sister and dumped her raped body by the causeway back in the city?"

  "..."

  "You should be thankful that I gave you a chance for revenge. Tsk, your sister would be embarrassed to see your cowardly attitude." The Female officer's eyes hardened in pain. Her hands were trembling beneath the table, but she couldn't defy him either.

  "What's wrong Susan? The Lord Commander's words are w. Act on it or go back to the street where you once came!" More of his clique of bootlickers starts taunting her. She would lie that the prospect of revenge to not be enticing, but it would most likely be a suicide mission. Her sister's validity on cause of death was... doubtful too.

  "I-I shall comply and start the attack by dusk."

  The meeting continues te into the evening. The green-haired Vouivre could do nothing but endure her share of harassment. He is muscur, tall, and somewhat handsome, but his attitude left much to be desired. Many things were discussed, including the procurement of logistics that somehow peered too close to looting. Thankfully with careful wording and logical persuasion, the sane officers could settle on soliciting merchants instead.

  There was also the matter of the Sand Soldier. The company that was wiped where investigated to have died from poisoning. Several officers advocated for a safer approach but the Feline is too stubborn, citing that he is being made a fool and shoulder their incompetence. A small silver lining, they did manage to suggest a change in approach.

  When the meeting was adjourned, he left the room more energized while everyone is fatigued due to his bullshits. He still has the maid in tow, looking more crestfallen than ever from what people could see. Soldiers who still had morals could only watch with pity while those who didn't cursed and envied the Commander for how much power he wielded. This pce rarely gained any sort of entertainment, and even then the officers would hog most of them.

  He pushed her inside and locked the door. Putting his entire body weight on her, she was pinned to the bed frame by the rger Feline. It made him curious about who is this beauty really. So he lifted her veil...

  And found someone else entirely.

  "Having fun?" The contact lens had fallen from her eyes and thus a pair of blood-crimson gaze drilling back at him was unveiled. She then hissed her indignation. The 'maid' green hair melted like snow to show a baleful ash that absorbed the dimming light. His soul screamed in terror but his mouth only echoed a soundless wail of horror. Without realizing it, he was already on his back. His muscur body did little to stop a nightmare from flipping it around.

  "G-Grey Ser-"

  -

  -

  -

  It is only by tomorrow that they realize the commander is dead. Strangely enough, none of the sensitive documents are stolen. The maid that he took as a bed warmer had also disappeared. A manhunt was decred, but they came up empty not long after. The remaining personnel quickly attributed the situation to just another raid by the Sand Soldiers' henchmen. Honestly though? They're gd the piece of shit is dead, minus his clique that lost all their favors of course.

  They would get yelled at, but with careful wording and honeyed promise, it would be easy to settle things. A certain Captain goes a bit further to attribute that the commander died while galntly fighting against the terrorist, he was given a noble funeral... with minimal attendance since his clique was 'exposed' as hacks who stabbed him in the back.

  From afar could see an ashen-haired woman staring at the ceremony with an impassive gaze before turning around.

  Location: Ibut, Sargon

  Desert stretch as far as the eyes could see. Sargon is home to many diverse groups who cast their lot to settle this deadly buy brimming with potential region. From the glittering, golden, capital where the Padishah or Shahanshah ruled, to the very remote tribal chiefdoms from the forgotten south to the very edges of Acahual, to then moving forth closer to the equator filled with modernity, Sargon stood the test of time.

  Even when seen as a shadow of its former self, not many nations would overtly try to meddle in their interregnum period. For it would only take a common enemy for this forgotten titan to be united as one. There are rumors of surviving Nigztmoran Kuranta settling amongst its many and have been echoing across Terra. Of course, they are deemed extinct but other nations are content to see Sargon tearing themselves apart in perpetuity while they advance to the next age.

  Around its many regions, each with its own distinctive culture that could be described as alien if one Sargonian were to be dispced to another, lies many more fvors on how civilization prospers. The nd that shall be the focus here would be none other than the famed Ibut region with its vast wealth and networks of trade that could doubt a silk road of its own making.

  This region is rife with both opportunity and the harsh reality of those who fail. Vilges come and go, the Ameer's army congregating in several fabled fortresses, taxation that would make Kazimierz's svery a preferable alternative, and its many unending tribal wars. Ibut is a chaotic nd, but only outside of its mighty walls' confine.

  The Lord Ameer of Ibut is known to rule with an iron fist and lust for more power. There were rumors that he wouldn't shy away from trying to take what he wanted forcefully, culminating in an incident where Columbian researchers had gone missing. Since then, he has been forcing more and more of his will on the poorer popution by supplementing his military with mercenaries.

  Despite everything, this nd is not something he could tame in its entirety. Poorer groups would often congregate into a sizable tribe on their own, unified under a singur goal of survival. Of course, to keep wiping out these ragtag tribes would be a costly endeavor, so he allowed them to settle the nd... for now.

  The poor people might be the focus, but other factions are biding their time for a chance to take into the light. Amidst the desert harsh wind, and oftentimes hazardous quicksand, stood a peculiar market where anything, and everything, has its value to be traded in the underworld.

  Columbian pattern cannons being spyed alongside guns smuggled from the battlefield, Arts drones and robots arranged like toys, and more bdes than one could count the stars above. Knightly armors ranging from rusty old artifacts to the newest, pristine, model being showcased like a boutique. Fascinating and exotic beasts as both pets and entertain in the gdiatorial pit, with many eager to have a seat in the upcoming blood fest.

  The trading isn't limited to just that, any living things would also be a fair game. Unlike the Scar Market's generally unsanitary and undeniably hazardous nature, the sves here are being dressed to the nine. Females were shown with more skin than there were clothes, the men even worse to show off their muscles. They share the same thing however, there is no light in their eyes. There are many ways to break a person, and the flesh trader would prefer to keep them unblemished.

  Strangely, and fortunately, enough, all the flesh merchandise indicates that none is less than adulthood. Morbid, but that is an improvement... why though? Simple. An ashen-haired Pythia could be spotted within the throng of people from many walks of life. Curiously, they respectfully stepped aside to let her through without a fuss. That person would be the Grey Serpent herself.

  Her fame is no longer questioned. She is a dazzling beauty who could rip a man 5 times her size like a papier-maché. She has organizations vying for her service, she has nobles looking for opportunities to make her their paramour, and she has the eyes of the kings. Polite and respectful until you stepped on her tail, which would be a shortcut to hell; that much is no tall tale.

  Nyx is walking amongst the many merchants showcasing their wares and potential customers. Unlike the cold or hostile looks given to her by the bck markets outside of Sargon, they respected her. In this harsh nd, power and prowess are a surefire way to earn respect. She has ample of both and was generally a pleasant, wealthy, and reasonable customer.

  A few could be seen bowing their heads at her, and she paid their respect in kind. She would love to browse through the current items on sale, but her destination is much deeper inside. She could spot armed men hiding out of sight, but all of them bowed reverently at her. She is a bit disappointed that she couldn't answer in kind due to their job, but what can you do...

  When she is about to enter a restricted section, an Old Man approaches her readily. His gait is hunched, his breathing somewhat shallow, and his eyes are hidden beneath his hood. His voice, however, was not as raspy as one would thought. There are traces of eloquence of better times in his voice. He bowed in front of her and Nyx showed a thin smile at him and a small bow of her own.

  "I bid you welcome, Ereshmahhu. Your arrival brought this old man great joy."

  "There is no need for you to do this, Old Isin, but I thank you. Then, please, no need to bow for me as I am hardly that special, just a mischievous dy."

  "It is only proper, you're a great ally of the sand and thus the desert accepts you."

  "I was only doing my duty. It just so happens that raw fist, and not just money, could do more talking around here, I was almost tempted to just base myself in Sargon." Isin chuckled before motioning her to follow.

  "Do follow me, the Sand Soldier has been waiting for your arrival eagerly."

  "Lead the way." He walks in front of her and proceeds to guide her deeper inside. Nyx could feel the nostalgic scent of an orderly underworld once she crossed that threshold. The oppressive aura made her crack a smile, this felt like one of her many hideouts.

  She eyed assassination specialists haggling with a chemist for the test batch of neurotoxin. Another not far would be a group of mercenary and suspiciously well-dressed men sharing a tankard and tales. A group of exotic dancers are showing their prowess and beauty captivating the customers around them.

  One such dancer made eye contact with the Grey Serpent and gifted her a seductive kiss from afar. Nyx just snorted, she was not interested. No matter how much she is willing to show, the Pythia just doesn't care about that at the moment. Their quiet journey ended when a rather modest tent could finally be seen. The Old Savra steps away from her path before vanishing into the milling crowd.

  Nyx heads inside to meet a well-dressed Liberi man sitting at the table. He wore white clothing beneath his hood and cloak. The man's blue eyes are staring at her calmly. Numerous advanced apparatuses could be seen hovering around him like celestial bodies orbiting a bzing star. He is a genius that hailed as one of the brightest minds of his time, and still is. Another point of note would be his neckce that ordained a blood pact. To have such a thing meant that a tribe was bound to fight for him regardless of reason else eternal dishonor would stain them all.

  "How are you doing kid?" Nyx sat on a chair that was readied by one of his men. She gave them an appreciative nod and they vanished back into the background. A maid would step between them and pour a recently brewed coffee. They sip on their respective cups and savor the silence before the Sand Soldier answers.

  "Same as always, Ereshmahhu, it has been quite the challenge to supply you with the necessary parts. It was no easy task to get away from the Armorless Union's scrutiny... although your training on my men had been a great boon nonetheless." Nyx shrugs before pulling up a well-crafted map and a document.

  The document contained highly cssified military information. Such as the general state of the armed forces and factional disputes. Nyx had gritted her teeth to gain this handwritten document, and she sure as hell would make it known.

  "Remember, I expect substantial compensation for this one," Nyx growled, her serene expression gone. The very memories of how she gained this detailed information made her skin crawl.

  "Rest assured, you shall have your army. Sargon has no shortage of strays and those who lost their old lives. Many more would be eager to fight under your banner, or to merely flocked under you." Then again, she was asking for something ludicrous so this much is fair.

  "It wouldn't be my banner... a mere fail-safe."

  "Then I shall not intrude on your business, rest assured."

  "Thank you, I really appreciate that..." The man takes the document into his satchel while opening the map. He raised his eyebrows in amazement. He knows that she is good, but this is almost unbelievable what she could do in just a few weeks.

  Her handmade map showcases the entire region of Ibut, potential reservoirs of water, and even some hidden caverns to hide from the scorching heat of the desert. She added simple notes and addendums for further deliberation or crification. The Sand Soldier traces his fingers across that parchment. His mind envisions the way to move and pull his men out of the combat zone or how to strictly keep things going amidst sandstorms.

  "Marvelous job, you should have many bright futures in an accomplished Ameer's court if you would prefer to settle down." He uses a scanner he made to detect arts, while Nyx doesn't seem to be the type to betray him, the material to make it might be so. He won't make the same mistake his younger self would, not anymore. It would make a low-light fsh visible only to him if it detects foul py. So far there is nothing.

  "I don't know. I don't wanna be some Ameer's concubine, although I guess I won't be too opposed to being one for a Padishah." She casually said her asking price while twirling a knife in between her fingers. Although her cim for dowry is brazen, if she can destroy armies such a price is not unthinkable. If anything, the Padishah would be overjoyed if she asked just that.

  "You do realize that the Asn could be very forthcoming with what they want. It was also one of the many reasons for their invasion of Victoria."

  "Amongst many other factors..."

  "Indeed and st I heard the original Taran are on the way to open rebellion and the Gaulish are gathering somewhere."

  "Mhm, but I have someone in mind. He is a boneheaded idiot, and I find it adorable."

  "Setting aside your eccentric fascination, how goes the movement of the Northern Army so far?"

  "Ameer of Ibut had gained, albeit forcefully, the allegiance of more tribes. He did however change his approach a little, promising lesser taxation to those who readily sent 10% of their young to his army. Gotta say he is a rather competent tyrant, shame that he is ultimately just a man."

  "Svery in all but name got it, but I suppose he does learn something after one too many raids."

  "Last I heard the more upstanding Ameers are losing their patience on him. The scandal that I kept hearing about also surfaced... still won't tell me anything about it, Elliot?" He stops looking through the map. His eyes sharpen and yellowish streaks of lightning coalesced along his arms. The air turned hotter and blinding, but the Grey Serpent wasn't perturbed in the slightest. She even dares to pick her nail with a knife.

  This silent stand-off only ended before the man, now known as Elliot, returned his vision to the table.

  "It would do well to not trust rumors. Such a thing tends to attract unamusing possibilities. To be swallowed into quicksand is often deemed fate worse than death, wouldn't you agree?" His tone is level and the brief shimmer on him had vanished just as quickly. Nyx clicked her tongue seeing him like that but decided that she had enough of messing with a man who could blow the market.

  "Fair. I'm in some deep shit in Kazimierz... hah... these stubborn Nobles spouting honors and chivalry but svery is legal. Then on the opposite end would be the Capitalists who crow on economic growth while sucking in all the benefits plus chronic backstabbing disorder..."

  "Sounds like a paradise, a Columbian paradise..." He takes a ruler to measure the distance between valleys. He did so because the map has a discimer that shows it is in a 1:1000 ratio. He was pleasantly surprised that Nyx's calcution was only slightly off.

  "Ain't that right... mind if I smoke?"

  "No, but someone of your caliber should try something more authentic." With a flick of his fingers, a servant steps out from the shadow with a cigar straight from Bolivar. The servant prepared the cigar for her and lit it, Nyx took it and had a little bit of taste.

  She couldn't help a grin to crack open her mask. Unlike the old high-css and nice stuff, this one is ced with poison. The potent poison was in the dosage to both be tasteless and odorless but had enough compound to shut off an ordinary Terran's brain. Yet instead of pain, she found her mind calming down better than after 5 packs of cigarettes.

  "That's the good stuff... you're smuggling this?"

  "Very useful and enticing for 'bribes' and those in power would always try to find an excuse for vanities. Not on the level of rare commodities, but you know how they think..."

  "Mind if I take a look at your wares? Who knows you finally made something that will make me vomit blood. The st time that happened was a nice birthday party by those who think a mere liquid should end me. I pyed dumb and smiled, citing that it was stronger than expected. Now it is just barely spicy for me, but this? This is sweet." Instead of being offended the orange-haired Liberi sports a smirk of someone who won a harmless prank.

  "Talk with Old Isin, he would show you what you would need." The Liberi took one st check on the map. He carefully memorized the pattern and small letters of report that he asked of her. Nyx made a detailed move and possible pnning of the Ameer's army. He traced one army would be moving by boat through a river, another would try to connect the east and west with a conjoined fort, and the st one would congregate at the capital.

  Examining and confirming that his request has been met with flying colors. He rolled up the parchment and returned to Nyx. She takes it into her hand... and burns it with her cigar. The fme erupted quickly and spread across the sparsely oiled leather, prickling her hand with a fiery itch that elicited not even a whimper.

  The map she painstakingly made was gone just like that. Neither side cared, as proven by the Liberi who start rolling up a document to continue his operation while Nyx is savoring a high-css Bolivarian cigar. Her mind is still in bliss from the pain of having it damaged and repaired at record speed.

  "Gd to hear it, so are you open for more business dealing?"

  "I sure am. I would note, however, that our st dealing has been straining my resources and reaching its utmost limit. It would be encouraging for you to offer something of great value."

  "I sure do have something that would interest you." Nyx pulled something out of her backpack. It is but a single arrow, but Elliot noticed a particur glisten on its tip. Then he moved his eyes on a tiny, votile, vial strapped near the arrowhead. His eyes widened seeing what she presented to him. It takes a poison and chemical weapon maker to know another.

  "You're not one to jest during business dealing, so what do you wish?"

  "Just the usual, I would need more workers. The manpower shortage is getting real on my end. Hell, I will accept redeemable assholes to fill in the gaps. If they behave then freedom, but if not? Doom."

  "That could be arranged, and regarding the equipment?"

  "Nothing too fancy, I won't be making an army. Just a nice little distraction to make them idiots think a bit more."

  "Shouldn't be too hard. Our st raids yielded more projectile weapons. Strange the situation has more or less stabilized but more corporate infiltrations occurred... Poor them, this pce is not Max DC, Lungmen, or Kawalerielki."

  "One st thing, I would appreciate it if you would look into this." Nyx slid a document to him. The Liberi takes it into his coat without question nor did he try to ascertain it, his silent acceptance was enough.

  "Thanks, kid." Nyx gets up from her seat while Elliot disappears into the shadow. Each side immediately forgets about each other and go their separate ways. Once she is outside, Isin is already waiting for her.

  "I heard that you wish to peruse our humble wares?"

  "Indeed, I think it has a much more pronounced... nicotine... in it. I like some peace and quiet, then this is doing it for me fantastically."

  "Heh, understandable. Now please, follow me, we have more than just a cigar from Bolivar."

  [END OF CHAPTER]

  Author's Note:

  Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who knows... he is kinda screwed by the economy.

  Eresh = Sumerian word for Priestess or Queen.

  Mahhu = a part of Mu?ma??ū or Exalted/distinguished serpent from Akkadian nguage.

  What was that cigar? Well, it was a type of brain-eating bacteria that also emits neurotoxin which would activate when inhaled. For Nyx though? It felt like a scalp massage...

  Passenger has more than just a nice little title of Bck Market Leader. It was implied that if Rhodes Isnd had no protocol or rules regarding humane treatment, he would make every mission a walk in the park for Dokutah (Pyers)...

  Update look at the announcement chapter.

  Ciao