Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 2: A Bad Omen

The Captain's tent buzzed with the sounds of jaunty scratching, plodding feet, and heavy snoring. Libro dipped his quill into a fresh pot of ink and scraped out another line on the thick, hefty tome sets before him. He stifled a yawn, itched at the thin growth of hair along his jawline, His grooming less than satisfactory that week. For days now he'd written new lines into the Archive, documenting the Captain's victories against the rebels. These so-called 'Sons of the Dragon Emperor', as they were so keen to call themselves, had seen fit in to declare their independence against the Empress and her Empire, a mistake they soon came to realize once the Imperial army had arrived at their doorstep.

Libro dipped his quill for the hundredth time that night and scratched out another line. Indeed the only thing left of the rebel army was a ragtag group of loyalists holed up in  some fort  alonge the hillside. As bleak as their situation was, they'd proven themselves quite stubborn to remove.

Nearby, the Captain paced around a map, its surface of the local topography scattered with various stone figurines.  Every now and then the Captain would shuffle the pieces around, mutter something to himself and then continue to pace.

Nestled beside him was the Vangen's magician, leaning precariously on side of his chair and snoring like a hibernating bear. His thin arms were draped across his chest,  hood drawn low so that only his pale white whiskers were visible. 

Without so much as a warning the Captain turned and kicked the magician hard in the boot. "Wake the feck up Magus!"

"Agh!" Magus jumped with a start, his haggard, bloodshot eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "I'm awake! I'm awake!"  The magician winced and rubbed at his ankle. "Nido's tits Dux, you don't have to be so rough."

Dux gave a mean glare, the top of his balding head aglow in the hanging lamp light. "If you didn't fall asleep half the damn time I wouldn't have to resort to violence in the first place," he stepped back toward the map and jabbed a finger at it. "We've a quarter legion of rebels bunkering in that fort, which is nigh impenetrable last I checked, and the only suggestion I've heard from you so far is how best to catch up on sleep."

"Sleep is a vital part in any army," Magus suggested. "Have you thought about giving it a try?"

The frown on Dux's face deepened. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Magus waved a flippant hand. "Oh, yes. Fine, fine. Don't listen to the all-powerful magician who can manipulate reality itself. Let us ignore the one man here whose knowledge spans ten times your own. Just don't come crying to me when you pitch over from exhaustion."

Libro didn't know whether to pack up his Archive and leave or to stay and watch. He'd seen the two of them bicker before, but even he could sense the growing tension. Dux leaned over the table top, his hands tightly clenched as if  considering how best to strangle the magician. Magus, meanwhile, had his arms folded together, long sleeves draped around him, one finger tapping  impatiently.

The two locked eyes and for a long moment said nothing to each other.  Then, Dux began to laugh. "Guess you've a point there, old friend. Feels like I haven't slept in days."

Magus twirled a finger in the air. "I could help with that, you know."

Dux waved him off. "Later, once we've dealt with the rebels," The Captain turned his attention elsewhere. "Libro."

"Yes, sir?" Libro jumped eagerly from his seat. "What can I do?"

Dux exhaled out of his nose. "Well, for starters you can stop calling me sir." He cocked one bushy eyebrow skyward. "As I have told you for the past three years now."

"No si—, I mean no Captain."

"Good. Now would you mind grabbing me that map over there? The big one with the red seal if you please."