Jiehong and Whiskey walked to the other side of the city walls. It did not take them long to find the rebel outfit.

  "Greetings," Whiskey said, approaching.

  "Whiskey. That you?" the rebel said.

  "Indeed. It is I, Whiskey... who are you? And come forward. I can't see you in the dark. Pull yourself to your fire and your comrade," Whiskey replied.

  The rebel did as instructed; the man came forward and pulled down his hood. The flames of their pit revealed him as... someone. Someone Jiehong did not know. Should I know this person? He thought.

  "Ming? Cato?" Whiskey asked.

  "The same," Mind replied.

  The memory struck Jiehong. Ming was one of the rebels who saved their hindsides months ago when Zan and he rescued Whiskey's village from the labor camp.

  "What are you doing here?" Whiskey asked.

  "I am taking the lead for operations in this province. We are having trouble expanding to certain troubled provinces and our leaders want me to take lead and hopefully make some headway," Ming explained.

  "I understand. What an honor!"

  "An honor for sure. What are you doing here? I thought you were to be at Hope-Ridge?" Ming asked.

  "No... uh, about that. I am actually turning myself out. I think by focusing with a Martial Order -- these Shiv guys -- I will be able to grow more. I plan on leaving the right way, though, and buy out my contract," Whiskey replied.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Ming's face looked crestfallen. "But you were so good with us, Whiskey. So good... you could have taken my position. My old one, I mean. Have you given your papers, yet? I can lobby for you. It's not too late!"

  "No! I mean, no... it is too late, Ming. This is the best route for me. I want you to know this one thing, though: I remain a rebel at heart. Just because I have left the fold does not mean I have left the struggle." Whiskey sat by the fire. Jiehong stood behind her, acting as the muscle.

  "Too bad. You could have been great -- I want to ask you something, though. Would you fancy a meal with me sometime?" Ming said, surprising Jiehong.

  "If the meal is romantic, then no. I am not interested in love on the battlefield, Ming. I'm sorry. If it is for friendship, then I will accept."

  "It is for friendship... but perhaps we should wait."

  "I think that would be best," Jiehong said.

  Weighing into the discussion for the first time, Ming's fellow rebel spoke up. "So... since Whiskey is leaving, and you, Ming, are the foremost official for the rebellion, shall we take your paper and out-payment?"

  Jiehong knew very little of what any of this meant. 'Out-payment' he guessed was likely the 'leaving the official way.' Buying out her contract. Why Ming was being so coy with his intentions, though, was beyond Jiehong's understanding. Did he have a crush on her? Did they have history?

  "Normally, I would take you up on your offer, but I would like to do this myself," Whiskey told the other rebel.

  "Up to you," the man said. "Keep in mind there is a curtsey rule. Extra-fines for those who don't get their papers in on time."

  Whiskey waved the man away saying she understood. "Shop talking?" Whiskey asked.

  Ming did not want to talk shop. "Seeing as how you aren't among us anymore, perhaps it would be best if official rebel matters are not discussed."

  "Unnecessary," the other rebel said.

  "Perhaps!" Whiskey said. "If Ming feels better with only allowing those official members of the rebellion to know of general information, that is his prerogative. Information keeping is something played close to the chest. I respect it. I will depart. Maybe during the day we will have another, more fruitful exchange. Evening, gentlemen," Whiskey told them and then turned to leave the campfire.

  On the way back to town, Jiehong asked, "What was that all about?"

  Whiskey sighed. Groaned. Rubbed her forehead. "Heaven if I know!"