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  “So we can totally take whatever this master creature is right Sill?”

  “Easy Right?” Laura asked.

  She leaned her horse forward to trample on the foliage of the road. A young fern had their hopes and dreams swiftly crushed by the iron shoe.

  “Uhhhhhh Surrreeee Commander!!!! Commander Jan was built with the sole purpose of killing the master’s avatar and knocking ships out of low orbit in combat!!”

  The second half of the sentence made no coherant sense. Why would you knock a ship out of “orbit”, orbit meaning wheel track? The word seemed alien and foreign, like Anthony Sill had mentioned before. Peasants and merchants looked up in shock while the column rode forward.

  “You have uh, alot of faith in me Sill” Jan coughed.

  “Absolutely Commander!!! We do however need to test our new reliable power source!! You will be entirely reliant on Jannic magic unless we recharge your battery!!”

  There was still the matter of Crous’s password. The concept seemed as faded as yesterday’s newspaper while the soldiers marched towards the city's protection. However further questions towards Sill would still leave a redundant response. Jan knew in his heart that there was no chance in hell that the monster of a man wasn’t tied directly to the Primelord’s undertakings. Once they had defended the city, if they lived to tell the tale, they would visit the restricted archives and scour it’s books and articles like rats until any drop of knowledge on the creature was revealed.

  “More electricity? Great Idea Sill!! And we can zapp everyone?”

  “No! Zapping anyone who isn’t Jan will result in instant death! His command chip soaks the charge!!”

  “Holy gatekeep, Did you hear Jan, Sill’s gatekeeping power again?!” Laura shouted.

  The scribe felt his face grow red with the creature's words. They tried to no avail to get the sparsest information from the rock’s placid exterior.

  “You really think that “thing” want’s us to have powers? All that was because it was in the same prison as us? You guys are taking advice from a rock!!!” Aloat shouted up ahead.

  Her words we’re soon conveniently lost to wisps of wind.

  “Remember the plan, Commanders and evil pompous Jannic!! Laura and I will head to the alchemical district and begin making cure! Jan and the evil Jannic will go to Irwain and ready the cities defenses!!” Sill roared.

  The other nodded to a simple restatement of facts.

  They were in the column now, horses trotting down the winding path while what peasants and soldiers scattered on the road, turned in shock to see a party racing as if to war. Twice they encountered border guards who they quickly distributed cure and added to their ranks. The guard infront of them was still twitching, his lips and tongue burning after having ingested three tablespoons of the putrid liquid. In the journey to Kag the group had already grown to a sizable force of nearly five hundred. Minor Captains and border commanders being brought up to speed by the Inquisitor Captain and Paxter who Jan had given a field promotion to the rank of Captain himself. They had stopped once to rest, scoffing down what food they could and sleeping in turns with an ever-watchful paranoia.

  It was only once they rounded two more hills that they reached the borders of Kag. The coastal cities great walls loomed over a lush mountainscape. Amazingly, no sign of war could be had and the settlement seemed peaceful. Banners and smokestacks pillared towards the heavens while the gleam of the cities streets could be seen tenfold. Relief spread across their battered faces with the veterans of the pit being the most terrified.

  “Tell me more about the master Sill, what kind of creature are we dealing with?”

  They had been asking questions non-stop ever since the Dalious first arrived only to receive as much useful information as deriving calculus from the back of milk-cartons. Jan toiled over Maple’s reigns. The horse was beginning to tire on the winding trail.

  “It came from _________ Commander!! Quickly rose to power as leader of the Quail homeworld and then drove forward in a conquest for the stars!! _______ always adapted the hive-mind but it’s lonely, sentimental and ___________ it doesn’t strive to convert everyone just _____________, this infection is something __________ however, our forces took Quail in the battle of __________, three days ago Commander!!! It’s been living on this anamoly for twenty thousand years ever since! Scientific sources say it merged with the ______________________ generating the ________________” Sill recanted.

  Surrounding soldiers paused to overhead this, seemingly enamoured in curiosity by the rock’s words. Laura wrote down what she could about the rock’s detailings. She shifted her hand twice to readjust to her own horse’s movements. Ink splotted on the notebook's pages while she dribbled down letters on a page that had just above cherished the secrets to creating electricity.

  “Three days ago? Sill if it fled three days ago then how can 20,000 years have passed? Sill?” Jan recounted.

  “REDACTED__REDACTED_____ERROR TO MUCH RISK TO ENEMY INTEL” the rock replied in a starlingly alien voice.

  More of Crous’s torture techniques blocked Sills's memory, causing Aloat to both grimace and smile at the tiny rock’s failings. Another soldier asked to feel Sill and Jan complied, letting their hands inspect the creature’s smooth exterior. The others respected his clarity and willingness to let them examine what seemed to be a sacred object.

  “The inanimate you carry, who did it belong to? I don’t think it’s inanimate, you would be able to feel it.” The Inquisitor Captain collaborated.

  [Inspection 30]

  No glimmer came from the speaking stone, not even the faintest hint of acknowledgement from the magic within. He felt the stone in his palm and moved his thumb slowly over the exterior.

  “I’m Sillllllll!!!!!!!! For the last time I am a piece of technology and I belong to Commander Jan Theric, CORE Expeditionary Force!” The rock screamed enthusiastically.

  The guard captain shrugged. He pulled his reins forward to have the horse shudder a reply. They were a mere twenty minutes from Kag now. He could see guards at the gatehouse preparing to open the portcullis for their arrival.

  “CORE? I’ve never heard of that” another replied.

  “He belonged to Crous, Anthony Crous, we think CORE is his army, Jan saved him so it attributed him that rank.” Laura responded.

  This revelation sent a shockwave of whispers to spread among the riders nearby. The soldiers glowed into a complete stir with most hungry for any scrap of information that divulged more about the mysterious task the Consul had been assigned.

  “The madman?”

  “Mercenary Bandit?” one questioned.

  “Rogue killer?”

  “Abomination?” another soldier replied.

  Even more inquisitive questions pilfered Jan and Laura while the two tried their best to respond with muddled replies. Eventually, they relayed enough of their original plan the attempts to steal Crous’s password for those around to either utter mumors of agreement or scathing retort. Sill however remained silent throughout.

  “I don’t know what Crous you’re talking about!! The man I worked for was perfectly respectable, a downright __________ and __________!”

  The others ignored Sill.

  “Is it true that Crous could channel without using magic?” one asked.

  “Isn’t that what you do Consul? Could there be a connection between the two? Perhaps that’s why you can use the rock?” A veteran of the pit inquired.

  The revelation wasn’t the worst idea however Jan and Laura had already given the topic sporatic thought. There was a stark similarity between the two forms. The “electricity” Sill had perpetuated followed the groundwork of Crous’s own famed powers. If anything perhaps there was a hidden talent between the two, an affinity for electricity which made it so only those with “Command” chips, a bloodline of command chipped into their very blood, could tap into and control. There were far too many questions than answers to plague their desperate times.

  Aloat however seemed to have it all figured out. She was still barking towards the poor reporter who now wrestled with the near sentient amalgamation of pages. The overall writing had improved; however on Aloat’s command there was now a discernably large amount of hyperbole intertwined like parasites into the literary truth. In just a few short lines the Dalious’s death had been “fixed” into a superfluously “accurate” recount where the Sheriff had single handedly loaded a ballista and carried the weapon like a hand-cannon to aid Jan’s plight. The reporter was also great at drawing, being able to accurately sketch both a victory portrait of the group posing like grinning law enforcement next to lizard’s head while also perfectly copying Nuem’s maps. Laura and Jan had attempted to transcribe as much information as possible while on the ride with their own quills snapping every so often with the horse’s movements.

  “It’s evil!! It came from an evil owner, and it’s undeniably going to be evil! I don’t even know why we’re still coddling it!!!”

  “Patrick write that down, I Aloat Barka, Honourable Sheriff of Kag, astutely proclaim the rock’s evil machinations to the ignorant group for the…..eighth….”

  “CONTACT, Airborn 500 meters west and closing Commanders!!!!!”

  Her words were cut off by Sill’s shrill cry. The rock now repeated it’s shout for all in the group to hear.

  “CONTACT Airborn 200 Meters west and closing Commanders!!!!”

  “BRACE BRACE”

  Paxter was the first to see them. His eyes glowing wide at the creature which soared through the air above. Shadows cast on the ground below. They had wingspans of near twenty meters long, beaks darker than the pitch of night and tar black feathers which glinted in the afternoon sun. Infected puss drolled like slime down the giant raven’s face. More oozing, squirting and fermenting boils festered on their once proud skin. A bird shifted its feathers to adjust for the air current, an arrow whizzing by its head to soar into the world above. Talons like spears shot down to splinter into the soldiers below. Hundreds of the enhanced crows and infected birds rained down like a fleshy strafe from the sky above.

  This time there were no watchers to hold them back.

  Jan, Aloat, Paxter Laura and the scattered battle-mages which made up their ranks shot like hell into the sky above.

  [Fireball 70] - (Remember changes to magic system in Author’s Notes, this just means fireball costing mana equivalent to levitating 70, 1kg rocks)

  [Fireball 70]

  [Fireball 70]

  [Fireball 70]

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  [Protection 30]

  [Shielding Wind 300]

  [Bloodscour 20]

  [Lightning 100]

  [Lightning 250]

  The scurry of projectiles crashed through the air like a rein of arrows, causing nearly half of the birds to perish in a near instant. Ash clouded the once sunny day and the flock shifted. The creatures, however seemed entirely fixated on Jan. The flock ignored the slaughter below in any attempt to claw at the Consul’s shoulders with even more swooping in complete oblivion to the carnage below. A bird picked up the horse of a nearby soldier for the group to shoot it down in an instant, saving the man’s life. Then in one swift motion the scribe began to weave. Jan held his breath and grabbed Maple’s reins. There was no limit now, no watchers to stifle his unearthly breath, no Irwain clawed into his shoulder to tide him back.

  [Windburn 927]

  The air caught flames.

  Spirals of fire licked the clouds above to form a myriad of colours. It was like the heaven’s themselves descended to smite the very wisps of wind. In seconds, the entire column of soldiers burst into awe at the sight of the skies themselves cinder.

  The others continued their onslaught, frying what few creatures had survived.

  In one rash stroke, every single one of the infected birds squaked dead.

  The convoy rode straight through the west gate and into Kag itself. What few border guards remained on the once heavily fortified parapets were astonished by the sheer display of power and presence the birds had posed. They were clean-cut and well-dressed but few in number. Freshly minted weapons and uniforms complemented fresh faces.

  “Stop!! Who rides into Kag?” a guard cried out sheepishly.

  He threw himself infront of their horses in an act of bravery with the tip of his spear firmly planted into the stone behind. Ballista’s and enchanted catapults dotted the wall like notches on gnarled wood. Laura reckoned the only reason they hadn’t been fired upon were the imperial banners carried by the five hundred strong calvary force. More border Captains and the Inquisitor Captain Merle, aided their sense of authority, but it was Aloat who shouted first.

  “This city is under siege, bring out your Commander, have as many soldiers as you can send word and light your beacon.”

  Shock glazed more faces when hearing the Sheriff’s voice. Soldiers turned pale at the sound of battle nearing the horizon. Aloat perched like a hawk on her horse’s back, giving lofty hand-motions while she spoke. Jan and Laura could sense her tongue savouring the individual syllables as the crowd clung to every words. It was enough to make them both roll their eyes; however her fame was enough to merrit a significant response. A small contingent of soldiers leapt to their feet while another flicked a lever to have the first enchanted pyre burst into flames. The smoke rose tenderly from the gatehouse tower, the black and purple hue twisting into the day’s cloudy haze. Thick black smoke was meant to convey a message of trouble and rally garrisons like blood towards a clot, eager to patch any surface wound. Mixed with purple however, this stretch of colour adapted an entirely seperate strength of words. War and death would rush like water onto rock. The last time a shred of purple had been raised above Kag’s walls had been sixteen years prior when Crous mocked the colour in a deathly haze. The other’s distributed what cure they could to those around but we’re on a rationed supply.

  The other pyre’s we’re being lit. One by one like candles awash in holy light, the gatehouses joined in marking the attack. A stilness tainted the city's air with a combination of roads, houses, streets and towers being stitched together to draw one large breath. The guard who flicked the lever looked around nervously but those on horseback exuded such a pericular feeling of disgruntled bloodshed and purpose none had the gall to ask further questions.

  “How long do you think we have now?” Paxter stated.

  “Reports from the villagers say of attacks a near day’s ride from Kag, I would state six or seven hours at most!” Captain Merle added. Warbirds dotted the horizon. This time infected eagles and dishevelled flying serpants had joined their midst.

  The presence of imperial inqusitors lended more aid to the group’s perception. Their own banners and coat of arms proudly displaying Longsa’s colours.

  “Have these gates barred in an hour, no one in or out, unless proven imperial!” another shouted.

  The peasant’s on the road behind scurried faster, pushing and shoving to enter the city. Thankfully the road was far scarcer than normal and would likely accomodate all of their demands, however Jan shuddered to think of what would happen to those who couldn’t enter the city on time. Come to think of it, the spindly trails of wagons and trade merchants had thinned to a trickle compared to their normal capitalist hoarde.

  “Something’s wrong, I…. the people where are the people?” Jan questioned.

  Laura’s own head pivoted like a swivel. The bustling market had been reduced to a barren wasteland of pickled fish sellers and small time hunters in contrast to its once lushious display of luxury and artisanal goods. A squash merchant bumbled along the cobblestone trail, donkey trailing behind. The border stalls and horse sellers that had plagued the gatehouse’s stepps were even short-staffed with guild inspectors nowhere to be seen.

  “Where are the people?” he shouted louder.

  A tumble-weed mockingly crossed the road. Less street-muck was present than normal and street cleaners had done double-time to shine the patchwork of stone.

  “Collosseum game my lord Consul, the Archmage granted free admission and leave for two thirds of the army and the entire citizenry to watch the Jaen fight.” a guard finally pipped up.

  “The Jaen? The Jaen’s here?” Laura cried out.

  It was finally a single crumb of good news compared to the wash of death that rode at their backs.

  “With our luck, Arlon probably declared war too.” Jan coughed.

  Scattered soldier’s heard this and the scribe regretted his statement. They seemed to take the Consul’s words a little too seriously

  “What’s a Jaen Commander? Sounds like a fancy way to say Jannic!!”

  The other’s ignored Sill.

  “Is it just me or do alot of things have J-based names?” the rock screeched.

  Sill’s words were soon dismayed by more pressing revelations.

  “Sedition at the highest level, these walls must be manned by less than half a battalion! Where are the archers? The watchers have even been moved into storage!” Merle cried out in shock.

  The guards below looked up surprised but seemingly even more terrified by the now trembling Inquisitor Captain. He pointed a guantled hand at the twenty to thirty foot walls with growing shouts. The horse shifted under his weight while the officer reached back to grab more maps from his saddle bags. They were even more taken aback by the casual use of an inanimate.

  “I imagine this city is nothing short of rotten to the core.” Aloat spat.

  The Sheriff steadied her own horse while she spoke.

  “The defences, we have to activate the cities defences, Irwain will have an enchanted core within the keep and he or Longsa should have the codes required” Aloat barked.

  “Does the Consul not know the codes?” Merle asked, confused.

  “Code? Did someone say Code?” Sill screamed.

  What doubt hovered up for grabs soon dissolved upon these words. Activating a cities defences was no paltry action. Kag itself was one of the oldest settlement’s on the continent. Millions if not billions of quands, time and blood had been contributed over countless generations on the lattice-work of houses, plaza’s, statues and ultimately history which made up the bricks of every street. From the most common sewer covering, glistening towers to the hay-pile on the street, everything had a name, purpose and tales stretching back nearly a near thousand years. There was a saying in Kag that the dust from a single brick in the old quarter had more history than graveyards in the north. Time was no different, there had always been threats, riots, starving workers and pious nobles. Taxes were collected, wars fought, lives squandered, books written encapsulating author’s dreams, inventions breathed to life by hopeful hands. Age after age encapsulated its own individual plights, causes, heroes and villains.

  The decades had heralded new additions. Seven hundred years prior during house-wars, Kag’s first protection field was installed, a magical barrier capable of warding off the majority of the old quarter from complete attack. One of the most powerful defences a kingdom could possess, the shield was estimated to burn for a maximum of two weeks on mana reserves built into the cities aquifers. A heavy but notable investment, watchers had been placed in strategic locations conducive to defence purposes. Many with their own trapdoors and spring mechanisms in order to catch enemy mages off-guard. A moat had been constructed after the sacking of 5820 and additional inner-walls after the pillage of 5923. The fortress itself had been an upgrade of the ancient wooden sticks which held back wild ratling hoards of old. Ballista’s and siege machines were carved at death-ground intervals, entrenched for holding back waves of oncoming troops and perfected over generations. Crystaline enchanted fire turrets, we’re imbued with enough mana to fire near thousands of rounds without stopping.

  These specifications were only re-enforced by the city's ever-present golem population.. A longstanding tradition for Kag had been to carve the hulking rocky figures in the image of its most loyal servants and have them wait, enchanted and on guard to stand the final defence. It was both a kind gesture and a rite of passage for the noble elite akin to having a street attributed to your name.

  In the main square there were over six hundred golems with each being a name-sake replica of a soldier who had perished in the smearling campaigns. Danat Vim, the Elder Archmage and countless famous generals and statesmen were immortalized in the idea that one day their statues could spring to life and carry the torch of conviction one last time.

  Trap upon trap, contingency upon contingency would spring forward to crush the awaiting enemy or grind the onslaught down to a repulsive pulp.

  “No time to complain older inquisitive and other Jannics!!!!! Time to charge Jan and move forward!! Everyone ready?”

  It was an action the others had discussed in small detail. According to Sill, the Consul’s Command chip needed to be charged through electricity however, the power source could not come from Jan’s own hands else a “short circuit” would occur. A sergeant dropped his pack on the paved ground, letting the pots, tools and swords clatter against stone. The others had little recollection concerning why running a short circuit drew any implications outside chariot racing but Sill was adamant to the point of no return.

  [Greater Storm 700]

  “No more shoddy galvanic cells here!! Oh and Commander this may hurt a little!!”

  “Wha?” Jan muttered.

  Skies darkened with the clouds above changing shade. A thunderstorm was summoned forward by the combined effort of shouting mages below. It was tiny, a wisp of gray blending into the endless pool of blue. Then hands flailing in succinct movements they held the storm in place for a fraction in time until the lightning arced. The soldiers on the wall and peasants below watched in a fascinated stupor. A border guard lazily leaned against the parapet, hands on his sheath with his head angled below.

  “Sorry, what are we doing?” Aloat muttered.

  “Electrical discharge through disequilibrium resolution via plasma-mediated electron dielectric breakdown Commander!! It’s not the cheap artificial anomaly swill you create through “magic” it’s the real electric byproduct!” Sill screamed.

  The poor rock received a blank stare from the entire column.

  “Lightninnggggg!!!!!” Sill shouted enthusialistically.

  A sympathetic nod came from the crowd. Laura continued writing, interested as to why a common-place phenomenon like lightning would be considered electricity.

  The bolt instantly slammed into Jan.

  Newspaper clippings fluttered into the hot dry air. Surrounding merchant’s and peasant’s watched in complete astonishment, fish drooping out of a peasants hand as they craned their necks to see a foreign world. Soldiers straightened their shields and cried out in astonishment, a leather worker had his mouth gape with innkeepers praising the gods in baffled tones. It was clear that upon this day, something different walked the streets of Kag.

  Where a popcorned skeleton should have cindered, Jan stood.

  Lightning crackled off his shoulders in thin tendrils slipping into the wind-swept air. His eyes shifted side to side, a blue haze blotting out dark pupils. Bricks on the sidewalk had cracked like thin ice under falling stones. A nearby oil-lamp had been felled like an ancient tree, metal snapped in half to melt into the ground. Jan’s own shoes needed to be quickly repaired from flayed leather into boots through magic.

  “Showoff” Aloat coughed.

  Slowly the scribe lifted upwards and shot his hands forward to have more lightning arc towards the sky. Then he screamed in pain. Laura and others rushed forward to help the Consul back to his feet while Jan fought a losing battle against the static pom pom that had become his now electrified hair.

  “A little? Hurt a little?” Jan sputtered.

  A smirk came from a nearby guardsman, contrasting the others who were still grappling with the concept that Jan simply absorbed a bolt large enough to fry entire trees.

  Paxter and Merle tried to disguise faces laced with anxious contemplation. They were petrified, scared by both the imminent threat at their backs and simultaneously at the majesty of the power they just witnessed.

  Both took an instant dislike to Sill.

  “Battery at 63% Commander!! We’re still going to need a larger power source!! 4.3 billion joules should be enough to perform all of your implant’s tasks!!!!”

  Jan nodded. He had come to recognize that “battery” referred to a storage device for electricity. Sill’s foreign dialect and strange iodyms made for a peculiar challenge during regular conversation. The separate branch of magic must have held similar properties to magic except apart from the ability to restore naturally. Mana and electricity we’re two sides of the same coin. Once soul-bound to a natural source, the other a foreign creation. He breathed in and out slowly, mouth savouring the crisp feeling of the static within.

  Silence consumed all.

  Then Laura was the first to speak. She shifted in her saddle before staring in the direction of Kag’s academies. Her eyes longed with both rash excitement and the weight of the task ahead. Jan could see her fingers curl into a ball and clench in anticipation at her own words. Too much dependence had been placed on Laura and the aid of a single rock, but fate would have to drive lucky gamble.

  “We’re running out of time! I’ll take Sill and Merle like we said and head for the Alchemical district.”

  “See youuu Commander!!!!!”

  Jan tossed the rock to Laura who gracefully placed Sill in a stitch pocked above her own armour. She then patted the tiny creature as would a child before Merle and a handful of inquisitors joined her ranks. They flanked the horse’s sides like crows on an ashen tree.

  “I’ll go to the city's garrison and try to convince them of the coming attack!” Paxter added.

  The bulk of their forces would stay with the newly promoted Captain. Veterans of the pit and the others that had been picked up along the way looked wary. The Captain, placed a hand on the palm of his sword. He twisted it in anticipation, sweat building up against his fist.

  “Okay good, We’ll go to Irwain and convince him and Longsa to activate the defences” Aloat shouted.

  “What do we do if Longsa or others is infected?” Laura inquired.

  She looked towards the rest of the group. Her face was eager for an answer they had been working hard to avoid.

  “We hope,” Paxter responded slowly.

  “We’ll worry about that when we get to it” the Sheriff shouted.

  She motioned for the reporter to follow them before angling her own horse towards the colosseum. The monolithic structure outlined a divot in the skylines above. Proud banners flicked from it’s windswept towers with the roar of a crowd echoing across the clouds above. Paxter and his army sprinted down the street. Peasants watched in horror at the urgency of the cavalry's movements. They understood what the hooves meant.

  “Wait!” Laura cried.

  Her horse ran forward next to Jan and Aloat’s. The sheriff didn’t say anything immediately, Jan could tell from her face she knew this was a time to swallow any quippy remarks. Laura breathed out a quick succession of words, her own light armour and sword complemented by a notebook and quill.

  “Good luck, if we don’t see eachother….”

  Aloat cut her off and twisted in her own saddle.

  “If we don’t see eachother what? Like you’re even possible of failure?!” She joked. The Sheriff twisted the reins in her first as if to relieve tension.

  Jan turned and spoke in a more serious tone.

  “You got the hardest task out of all of us, not because it’s impossible but because only you could do it Laura.”

  “You really think I can?” the scribe let out a loose breath.

  A small wench of tension fluttered down her shoulders.

  “Yes,” the two replied earnestly.

  “I….I uh” she began to mutter slowly.

  Jan cut into the conversation quickly.

  “When you’re finished Laura, people won’t remember the name Lanu just because of your parents anymore, they’ll remember Lanu because of you…. After we’ve convinced Irwain, Aloat and I will meet you in the alchemical district, we’ll help all we can but I trust you” Jan replied.

  She nodded.

  “Don’t worry Commander Laura!! Creating a mass produced commodified version of the cure within a single day timespan is a piece of cake!” Sill screamed.

  Aloat grimaced at the rock’s words.

  “Okay well, Don’t die out there! Or it really will just be me and Sill against the world!” Laura coughed. Her sentence was structured like a joke but her voice quavered giving away the lie.

  They nodded at eachother. A somber understanding that only formed from knowledge of the task ahead. Laura, Jan and Aloat, caught eyes, their own emotions intertwined, trying to think what the other had decided about their doomed fate. Each group selected a handful of veterans of the pit to form an honorary guard. The five hundred large group was soon divided with Paxter taking four hundred to the garrison and the rest of being divided between the two groups. The curdled maze of alleyways and side-streets seemed like the perfect place for the infected to strike and a series of messengers would have to run between the three groups as they continued.

  Horses raced down the street.

  Calvary sprinting along three separate trails.

  Outside, an army marched with a single goal.

  Reunification.

  —------------------------------------- break —--------------------------------------------------------------