“General.” A voice rang across a dimly lit office.

  A translucent purple figure materialized near a desk, on which an ornate silver stand stood. The light from a crystal at the crown of the stand altered the room’s illumination in a way that distracted Sengkolo. The general approached the figure and gazed at his eyes, which would be bright amber if he was in the office.

  “I'm by myself,” Sengkolo said.

  “Regarding Operation Perilous Probe, father,” the figure continued. “Our heroes reached Wardhana’s Throne three days ago.”

  “Undetected?”

  The figure nodded. Charcoal-colored plating protected his torso, shoulders, shins, and forearms. Turbulent leaf-like patterns were etched into them. A layer of plum-colored tunic that stretched down to his ankle rested under the plating. His mail shirt, which was just as long, was barely visible beneath the tunic.

  “Are you sure this report isn’t forged?”

  “I have spent three days confirming the truth. That’s why I tell you only now if you are wondering.”

  “Son, they aren’t the first party I had sent. I haven't heard from those that went before. The Hong Steppe has become more dangerous with the increasing number of forces of Great House Thong. To think that this party managed the journey…”

  The general’s son pointed away from him. “They did. Don't forget what our people are capable of when they're pushed to the limit. They knew it was likely a one-way trip for them, yet they still went anyway and made it.”

  Sengkolo took a deep breath and crossed his arms. The edges of his son’s armor were gold, just like his own. The crown of his pointy helmet was sword-like with a golden hyperbola sitting on the section that covered his forehead.

  Sengkolo frowned as he rubbed his right thumb against his index. His right foot tapped the office's luxurious carpet repeatedly. The secrets of the Traitor House would eventually be unveiled. Gone were the days when he would wish to remain ignorant. He must soon formulate possible courses of action to anticipate what was brewing under Mount Wardhana.

  “How long until they bring a result?”

  “That remains to be seen, father,” his son said confidently. “They aren't like an average Councilor of a Great House. Their loyalty is to the Sultanate. By Vahsani's will, they shall prevail.”

  The irony was that Sengkolo had a hard time associating himself with the Sultanate. He thought that his people would remain united in a crisis never seen since the time of Mangkuprawan I — the first sultan. Every time he reached out to the Sultan or the other Great Houses, his requests were always regarded as nuisances.

  Sengkolo glanced at the map of Mananggal that was hung on the wall behind his chair. It was a great honor to be in charge of protecting the land promised by the Almighty Three. What a shame that people had differing views, yet Sengkolo was bound to defend them regardless.

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  Because he had chosen this duty.

  “Pendhopo…” Sengkolo said.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Don't disrespect Councilors of the Great Houses like that. Except when they belong to Great House Pendhopo.”

  “Of course, father.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I have achieved my objective here,” the general's son nodded.

  “How is your Corps?”

  “Nothing new that will interest you.”

  Sengkolo took a step closer. “If a Great House stands in your way, tell me,” he said with the utmost suppressed tone.

  “Yes, father.”

  Sengkolo retreated. “Dismissed.”

  The general's son bowed.

  “Tangguh…” Sengkolo uttered his name just as he was turning away.

  Their eyes met. Sengkolo admired the stature of his youngest child. His broad shoulders reinforced his appearance as an able leader. His unflinching stare was something that Sengkolo would certainly present to his opponents. He had taken up arms for the Sultanate's cause when he was twelve, following the steps of his eldest brother who had long vanished. He stayed with him when his three other siblings left. He never wavered in his service to the Sultanate.

  Sengkolo opened his mouth but suddenly froze. His eyes looked around frantically, trying to catch any of the countless words that streaked past his head at the speed of light.

  “Keep yourself safe,” Sengkolo said.

  Tangguh's figure approached Sengkolo. A crowd of purple light particles swarmed the right hand of the general. Sengkolo raised and let the figure touch his forehead to it. He felt nothing, other than the insignificant itch on his skin caused by the magical wisps that formed his son’s figure. The particles eventually withdrew and the crystal's light dimmed. The figure disappeared.

  Sengkolo collapsed to his chair, which was designed to be large enough to comfort him while he was in his armor. He rubbed his forehead as he once more looked at the map of his home island continent.

  There was a lull in the front for ten years. Sengkolo doubted that Great House Thong gave up after their failed breakthrough in Kanan Tusk's direction. Putting himself in their boots, he would devise something that could break the people's resolve. Sengkolo had been sending agents and willing adventurers into the Hong Steppe for that particular reason — to keep him updated on enemy activities.

  However, his hireling always returned with nothing out of the ordinary. This made Sengkolo even more suspicious, which prompted him to send expeditions deeper toward Mount Wardhana, where the capital of the enemy resided.

  Sengkolo was certain that the people would demand his response upon the revelation. Failure to do so would result in disapproval which could threaten his position.

  He grabbed a sheet of peanut-colored sipang paper and began scribbling. Suddenly, a bellowing brass steel halted his hand. Sengkolo picked up the bible that sat beside a small painting of his wife and Tangguh and brought its smooth leather cover to his forehead.

  “Praise The Three…The Holy…The Almighty…” he said, returning the bible thereafter.

  Sengkolo raised his hands and mimicked the shape of a bud on his forehead. He then crossed his hands on his chest before closing his fingers. His right hand moved along a straight line toward his right shoulder. His left hand made the same motion at the same time. He then touched his closed fingers to the tip of his shoulders.