“Oh, Sir Kaliander, good evening”, Albir the shopkeeper greeted his recurrent customer as he walked through the door. Kaliander was wearing his usual officer’s uniform, which doubled as armor, made from black leather and coated with minor draken scales. He eyed the weapons displayed on the walls of the shop as he approached the blacksmith’s desk.

  “Hello, Albir. One of your assistants told me to drop by today, to pick it up.” Kaliander shook Albir’s hand while placing his other one on his forearm, making a traditional zoen greeting.

  “Always by the book, I see”, Albir laughed. Their people had not used that type of handshake since the times of the First Visit, but to people like Kaliander, raised within a strict military environment, it served to remind themselves of the rules they followed every day.

  “You know me” Kaliander replied, not changing his expression. The always serious half-wolf had always found it difficult to pick up on jokes, and some of the men in his unit even liked to say that he didn’t know what a joke was. Albir had known him since he had arrived in Isodon, two cycles after he had finished setting up the shop. “Is it ready?”, the wolfman asked.

  “Yes, of course, sir. As promised”, as he talked, Albir stepped through the curtain that separated the shop from the forge in the back and picked up the wrapped item that the officer had left there for repairs four days earlier. Stuck to it was a note, in Albir’s husband’s handwriting, that read: ‘Remember the bottle’. His eyes widened with realization, and before bringing the package back to the shop, he went to the kitchen.

  When he returned, the shopkeeper and blacksmith carried in one hand Kaliander’s package, and in the other a bottle of liquid, tinted yellow. Seeing it up close, the package that Albir brought was clearly a battle axe, with both its head and handle wrapped separately in hard paper. What was unusual about the weapon, though, was its size.

  The handle was longer than Kaliander’s leg, and he was tall for a beastman, and the head was roughly the size of a cart’s wheel. Not even flinching from its weight, the smith lifted the weapon with one hand and placed it carefully on the counter. A boarman’s raw strength was hardly contested, only perhaps by much bigger zoen.

  Kaliander began unwrapping the axe, and Albir muttered under his breath: “I don’t even know why we try with the paper”. “I have told you many times, dear friend, I don’t need it”, Kaliander replied, his hearing being his strongest sense. The soldier inspected the blade thoroughly. The handle had been newly varnished, and the blades cleaned and sharpened. One of the blades looked a bit brighter than the other, as it had been replaced since the older one had chipped during a training session.

  “We could have replaced both blades, you know, it would have been no trouble”, Albir noted as Kaliander inspected the new one. “I know you could have, Albir, but it’ll probably break soon enough, so no need to worry”, Kaliander answered, without taking his eyes off the axe.

  “How long ago was the last one?” the blacksmith asked.

  “About twenty days ago”, Kaliander looked at Albir as he spoke. “But I must stay sharp, Albir. More comes through every time. Sir Lurius is worried that they might be bettering themselves, and I heard he called for help from Garianna.”

  “A visitor from the Wilted Woods? I wonder what sort of character they’ll turn out to be.” Albir laughed, but Kaliander saw through his mask. If the issue was big enough to call for a denduri, they might be in deeper trouble than they initially thought.

  “They’re moving fast. The first disturbance appeared only about five cycles ago, and they are already sending groups in the hundreds.” The soldier, seeming satisfied with the inspection, picked up the axe and threw it on his back with ease, fixing it to the mount on his armor. “How much will that be?”.

  “That’ll be twenty-two knao. Also, Doth wanted you to take this” said Albir, and threw the bottle of yellow liquid to him, which he caught with his right hand. Kaliander paid the smith and looked at the bottle.

  “A spirit tonic? Doth outdoes himself every time. Tell him thank you for me. Alright, Albir, see you.” Kaliander pocketed the container and walked out the door, after shaking the smith’s hand one more time.

  With that, Albir returned to the back of his shop, and picked up a bunch of iron bars he was carrying before Kaliander had walked into the establishment. Sir Lurius had requested the making of the imbedded straightswords himself, and the boarman would certainly not disappoint.

  Kaliander had been chopping magic puppets at the training grounds almost the entire morning after visiting Albir’s shop, when he was interrupted. The perpetrator was a young pantherwoman wearing a soldier’s uniform, a low ranking one, that looked out of breath. It seemed she had come running from the commander’s tower to deliver a message.

  “Commander Berim requests your presence in the war room, as soon as possible”, what she managed to say before Kaliander was already picking up his things and answering a simple “Yes”. Once she felt satisfied with his movement, she took off running in the direction she had come from.

  As Kaliander walked across the bustling streets of Isodon, he crossed paths with many kinds of people that were heading in various directions. Being a military town, mostly a fort meant most passersby were soldiers of varied ranking, either making their way to training, on break or patrolling the streets.

  Then there were the vendors. Kaliander commended their bravery, especially the ones with wandering carts that decided to come make their living so close to the Draken’s Mouth, the only known active site of incursion in all of Alfnaeim. Of course, if you already had your shop set up in the city, you’d have to stay, but these people could choose to go anywhere, and still they found business in that dangerous place.

  Lastly, there were the families of the soldiers that had come to establish themselves in Isodon. Partners and children of many that could not bear to see their loved ones go and would rather risk the possibility of an attack over not seeing their family members. Kaliander considered himself lucky to not have such attachments. A thought often crossed his mind, a question of how commander Berim dealt with the weight of both her responsibilities: her duty to the land and that of being a mother.

  Deciding he would rather look at a wall than occupy his mind with such queries, he decided to use his enhanced sight to revise the city’s defenses as he walked. The high wall that surrounded the fortified town, standing up to about fifty feet, and wider than any house, constantly had anywhere between fifteen to thirty soldiers constantly posted up at the very top, watching the cave in front of the gates. The number of people watching depended on the level of alert and the time that had passed from the last attack.

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  Those walls had once been built entirely from wood imported from the Wilted Woods, one of the hardest materials known. But with time and resources expanding, a pair of denduri had come to the mountain peaks known as Minue’s Hand and had helped reinforce the wall with magic-imbued stone that greatly increased its defensive properties, about three cycles ago, before Kaliander even arrived at the city.

  The commander’s tower, where Madam Berim lived, was also the main place of meeting for the high-ranking officials of Isodon. It was a stone building with a squared base to the north-west of the town, the furthest possible from the Draken’s Mouth, and it was the only construction in the city to rise above the protective walls, to about sixty feet or so. It was divided into three floors, the tallest of them being the living quarters of Berim and her family; and the other two reserved for military purposes, with a secondary staircase that avoided the third floor entirely and allowed access to the roof without disturbing the commander’s family.

  After every attack, Kaliander and a few others would reconvene back at the building to communicate important details like the size of the incursion or their strategy moving forward. It was during the latest meeting, about twenty days back, that Kaliander had communicated the attacks increasing in potency and manpower; and, as a response to that, it had been Berim that had asked sir Lurius to use his connections to the City of Falls to send them a denduri.

  Kaliander saluted the guards posted up at the gates as he walked up to the tower. The half-asleep guards, suddenly recognizing him, immediately straightened up. The officer smiled as they opened the door for him and gave them a few reassuring words.

  The conference room where the meetings took place was on the base floor of the tower. The door was ajar, and a bit of light passed through on to the hall. Kaliander knocked twice on the door, softly, and heard voices talking inside. Not really sure whether he should knock again or not, he decided to walk in, since they were expecting him.

  He was met with the usual long, elliptic table with ten seats. At the far end of the room, commander Berim was seated on her usual chair, facing the door, Sir Ludius at her side. The tigerwoman was pointing at a town map set on the table, and the foxman had a hand on her shoulder. A few seats away from them, facing the other way, a long, silver haired figure sat, listening to their explanation.

  “Your grace, the incursions are getting heavier and heavier, and the enemy is getting bolder”, Barim talked clearly, and her voice was coated with deep respect. As she talked, Kaliander walked closer to them, and the three people in the room finally realized he was there. Berim and Ludius looked up into the wolfman’s eyes, and the figure finally turned.

  They were beautiful, of course, as all denduri were. They had silky silver hair that ran down to their shoulders, long and thin ears, long eyelashes and mint colored skin that seemed to glow with the light. They stood up to greet Kaliander and were the only one in the room taller than him. A foot taller, at that. They were slender and graceful and wore flowy water green clothing that left their long arms uncovered.

  “Ah, yes. This is the officer we were speaking about. He will be the one leading the squadron next to you when the next attack comes” said Ludius to the figure.

  As he approached, Kaliander’s eyes widened with realization. He immediately walked up to the denduri. When he was close enough for a greeting, he kneeled in front of the figure, on his left leg, while placing his right elbow on his right leg and holding his fist with his left hand.

  “Your grace”, Kaliander’s voice was laced with the same respect Berim’s had been a few moments ago. He held his gaze down as he spoke: “I am Sir Kaliander of Orel, it is an honor to be in the presence of a great one.” The denduri smiled: “I see, Berim, that some keep to the traditions still. Rise, child, please.” Kaliander stood up.

  “My name is Astaron of Garianna, Kaliander. Berim here tells me you will accompany me to battle when needed.”

  “Of course, your grace. It would be my pleasure to assist you.”

  “I feel safer already”, Astaron’s laugh was melodious. “Please, sit – they pointed to the chair next to theirs -. Give me your report on the incursions”. Kaliander looked at Ludius and Berim, who gave him nods of approval, and then waited for Astaron to be seated before sitting down.

  As Kaliander talked, and Astaron listened curiously, Berim and Ludius smiled at each other. Afterall, the once young prodigy they had met in Orel was having strategy talks with a denduri.

  “Sir!” a soldier’s voice woke Kaliander up in the middle of the night, a couple days after his meeting with Astaron. “An incursion has occurred! Commander Berim, Sir Ludius and the great one are already at the gates, with a squadron ready!”.

  Kaliander hated his sleep being interrupted, and in the first few seconds, he rolled around in bed until fully taking in the words of the soldier. Then, he jolted up, got dressed, grabbed his axe and went downstairs in a matter of seconds. The soldier that had woken him up was at the front door, ready to brief him as they walked.

  “We just got notified, so it couldn’t have happened long ago. From the walls we can only see about twenty, but our look-outs warn that there might be more coming through” said the young cadet as they darted through the streets. Kaliander saw out of the corners of his vision how many civilians opened their blinds and stepped outside of their homes, to be aware of the situation.

  “Alright, point me to the post,” ordered Kaliander. As the soldier raised one hand to give him directions, Kaliander bent his knees, and pushed against the ground with full force, jumping above the roofs and landing on one, only to start darting from the top of a building to the other at incredible speeds, leaving the cadet behind.

  It had only been about a minute when he landed on top of the northern wall of Isodon, where Astaron the denduri, Berim and Ludius were talking among many other soldiers.

  “Ah, Kaliander, good to see you” Berim jolted up at his arrival.

  “What is the situation, sir?” asked Kaliander, recovering his breath.

  “Well, dear”, said the denduri, eyes fixated on the mouth of the cave known as the Draken’s Mouth, that laid hundreds of feet from them. “It seems one of them wants to talk. We have been informed that the squadron he’s coming with is only about ten percent of his total numbers, but he’s declared that he does not want conflict.”

  “What are your orders?” Kaliander now looked to Astaron for answers, as did the rest of the group.

  “You are to accompany me down there, of course. We will hear what they have to say” the denduri turned his gaze away from the cave and looked at Kaliander.

  “But, great one, you know we can’t trust them! There’s no good that will com-…” Berim’s words were quickly cut off when Astaron’s eyes looked into his. ‘Their gaze,’ Kaliander thought, ‘it’s as if they were using magic.’

  “As you wish” said Kaliander, and he prepared himself to go into battle.