SERAVEL ROVODIA IS A REBEL WITH A WARRANT. As the head of the Daily Embers, a chronicle criticizing the tyranny of the current ruler, Seravel gained significant enemies who preferred to keep the truth in the dark. When a number of small accidents st...
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Sera halted on top of the stairs leading to the courtyard, staring down at the expanse of red and brown armor glinting against the glare of the morning sun. What...
A series of footsteps clambered behind him, and when he turned, a flock of Advisers hurried out as well. At the sight of him, they screeched to a pause. "Your Highness," they seemed to breathe as one. Finally, Adviser Ailun dusted his vest and cleared his throat, distinguishing him from the group. "What brings you here this early?"
"I could ask you the same question, Adviser," Sera straightened his back and returned the suspicious glance Ailun kept throwing at him.
Ailun scoffed. "We have received reports of what could have been the largest scale of the fires," he said. "I doubt you know or even care about that—always shut inside your room or gallivanting around town."
"If I'm always out as you say, shouldn't I know about it the most?" Sera tilted his head to the side, enjoying the cornered looks creeping across the Advisers' faces. "Unlike you, I'm on my way to check on those reports, so I can offer the citizens their much needed help."
A tinge of pink colored Ailun's cheeks. "T-that's what we're doing as well!" he said.
Sera raised an eyebrow. "Are you not here to send out these soldiers?"
Ailun opened his mouth, but a different voice flitted out. "That would be me."
Every head in attendance swiveled to find the Potentate himself walking towards them with a pleased look on his face. He stopped a few paces away from Sera and the Advisers, and he glanced at his court first. "What seems to be the commotion?" he asked.
Ailun shook his shock off with a bristle and cleared his throat. "We heard the report of an enormous fire breaking out in Calca," he said. "We were on our way to send the Crown Prince to check on it and report back to us."
Every cell in Sera's form rebelled against that notion, but outwardly, he forced his lips to part in a docile smile. "Exactly, Your Highness," he said, alluding to his father's proper title. "I am off as we speak. Am I allowed to ask a question?"
The Potentate jerked his chin at Sera. "Go ahead."
"What are you sending the army for?" Sera obliged, keeping his tone curious but not too curious and impassive but not too impassive either. "As far as I know, there are no incoming threats from all borders."
His father turned to the army who remained unmoving despite the heat of the desert, the glare of the sun, and the weight of their weapons and armor. "There's a special training in Thenaserine," he answered, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. Was he going out with them as well? "I can't afford to miss out on that."
Special training? Since when did the Imperial palace support joint operations between their armies? The Unities were as stingy as a regular merchant when it came to their techniques and methods. Of course, there's still the matter of the soldiers' get-up. Swords hung in their belts and strapped behind their backs. Instead of light armor, they donned the full set, up to the stuffy helmets. If anything, they're going to war.
