They say war changes tradition, or gives birth to new customs to keep our minds away from the chaos. On every third day, Huson and I go out to dinner together. We only have a few rules: we don’t talk about the war, we don’t invite anyone else, we go to our favourite restaurant at the other end of the city to avoid meeting our colleagues, and we split the bill. Just two friends trying our best to escape a war that lingers around every corner. I also need this more than ever, especially today.

  Even when the city is fortified, it doesn’t mean public services are not being used. Stores stay open, selling goods, even while being forced to ration resources in what they can produce. A bakery will focus on making bread and hardtack, but there will be a limit on pastries and sweets. A shame, but a necessity if or when this city is under attack. On the bright side, the carriage services that take you around are also still fully operational. The galloping of hooves is a comfortable sound to hear; it is better than silence.

  Huson gently nudges my left arm with his elbow. ‘You’re looking down, everything’s okay?’

  ‘Sorry, it’s just a rough day.’ I vaguely summarise.

  Huson knows what I mean, but he keeps following the rules we’ve made for ourselves. ‘What are you planning to have?’

  ‘I’m not sure, what do you think they’ll have on today?’

  ‘Well, if it makes you feel better. I heard the chef might be cooking traditional Thesian meals today.’

  I raise a brow, ‘and what might that be?’

  ‘Not anything that I know of, it will just be a spin on what I used to eat.’

  ‘Why is that?’ I chuckle.

  ‘I know they don’t have a wok.’

  Now I want to give it a try. The Hanging Tree Restaurant, a prestigious middle-class establishment that is one of the only places that will serve decent food to Huson. Anywhere else will refuse him entry, or the cooks and waiters will treat him rudely, even though he is fighting for our people. What’s interesting about the restaurant is its open kitchen policy. At the centre of the building, you can sit down and watch the cooks work. Serving our meals with skill and in a timely manner. Their food isn’t always great, average at best, and pricey for the ordinary folk. But it’s safe, a place where I can rest and find myself.

  Huson waves a carriage driver to them, and we both step inside, almost excited to get our dinner like little kids.

  ‘So Volas, do you ever plan to start a family?’

  ‘Me?’ I fluster, I never even thought of such a thing. ‘I don’t know, I doubt I’ll ever be a good dad.’

  ‘A Cinari not going to follow the Cinari Mandate?’ Huson laughs to himself. ‘I thought people on this island are only interested in having kids and multiplying.’

  ‘I never said I didn’t want kids, just that I won’t be good at being a dad.’

  ‘Sure, that is another way of saying I don’t want any little rascals.’

  Cheeky shit, ‘what about you? Are you planning to have kids?’

  Huson smirks as he cocks his head. ‘Volas, I think you forgot that I don’t have the facilities to have any.’

  ‘Just get a surrogate.’

  ‘And lay with a woman! Gross.’

  I can’t help but laugh with him. What a meaningless conversation, but one that I like. With a wide grin, I open my mouth to respond sarcastically. However, the carriage stops suddenly. I look out to see that we are on an empty street. This isn’t a path we usually take.

  Huson looks to me like perhaps the driver had an accident. ‘Think he got lost?’

  ‘We will find out soon enough.’ I knock on the hatch behind me to talk to the driver. They slide it open and throw a black badge onto the seat next to me. An open eye with the flame in the middle, the symbol of the Foreign Inspectors.

  Huson’s eyes widen in despair, my stomach sinking as I instinctively reach for my pocket dagger. During times of war, the Inspectors are forbidden to communicate with the military, regardless of whether it will serve the interests of our Empire. It was one of the agreements we made with the world to create the international community. However, the only time they will talk to us is if we committed treason. And Huson and I know why they might be here on this day.

  The carriage door opens, and a skinny man sits next to a frightened Huson. His left ear is missing, as if it were torn off. His violet eyes indicate he is from this island, but his hair is short and cut in a way that is similar to the colonists on Eupria. Besides his obvious scar over his nose and right cheek, he just looks like a normal person. His clothes are nothing out of the ordinary compared to what a carpenter would wear.

  The man smiles as he closes the door and puts the badge back in his black jacket pocket. ‘Gentlemen,’ he says to us with a harsh accent. ‘You will both know me as Inspector K. We will take you to one of our sites for a discussion about recent events. Do any of you have questions?’

  I gulp, not wanting to start trouble. ‘Is there a reason why we are talking?’

  ‘Some recent problems have caused us to look into this war. Don’t worry, we will provide more details to both of you when we get there.’ K leans forward to knock on the hatch, telling the driver to get moving.

  Huson and I keep silent, though to us it is clear that we are going to a black site in the city to face trial. Those who are investigated and found guilty of treason by the Inspectors often disappear. In some cases, entire families are eradicated by them if they deem our bloodlines or close relationships a threat to the Empire.

  Yet the man smiles through the trip, either as an attempt to keep us calm or they take pleasure in our fear of the skinny, unarmed man.

  The carriage stops in the industrial district in the southern part of the city. We hop out to only see regular-looking people around an abandoned warehouse, five of them to be precise, but I feel there is more about hiding in the cover of darkness. I can tell they are agents; there is no doubt about it. One Inspector takes Huson to one side while K escorts me inside the building.

  I enter an empty room with a lonesome lantern illuminating the cobwebs covering the roof. A middle-aged man walks inside with a few files on the table next to him. His grey hair coned back, his black moustache that hides his lip, while wearing a simple black suit with no iconography, jewels, or markings that indicate his occupation.

  ‘That is all, agent.’ The man says in a raspy voice. In response, K gives him a light nod before leaving.

  I don’t know what to say, nor can I figure out who I am looking at. ‘Is there a reason that I’m here?’

  ‘Plenty.’ He replies, examining me with a cold gaze.

  ‘Well, uh…’ I stutter, trying my best to compose myself in front of the Inspector. ‘I’m sorry, I’m at a loss here.’

  He nods, understanding my position. ‘Everyone who meets us like this is always a bit confused. It doesn’t help that we have to meet when a crisis is happening. Or in your case, when you should be having your scheduled dinner.’

  ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘Don’t act coy, Regali. I know you very well, perhaps more than you know yourself.’ He opens a file nearest to him. ‘And you even want to be an Inspector as well. A shame that your first interaction with us is in an abandoned building that is linked with a few disappearances.’

  ‘Am I under trial?’

  ‘For treason for killing the council’s close relatives?’

  My body chills, so he knows, oh by the Gods if he knows someone else would as well.

  Seeing my panicked expression, the man speaks up. ‘You are not in trouble. Typically, I’ll try to relay information to you through unorthodox methods, which so far have been working. However, things have changed.’

  ‘What changed?’

  ‘The introduction of Bill-285 indirectly gives us legal authority to talk to you directly, though that doesn’t mean we can be involved in the war by any means.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  The Inspector frowns, ‘is that so?’

  ‘Most of your recruits came from this island, I highly doubt every one of them will not take this war personally and stay out of it. It is against our nature.’

  Impressed, the man smiles. ‘You got one thing right. While it isn’t official or legal for us to have a presence in a conflict such as this, we are doing our best to make sure you win this war. We help implement infrastructure that your army can utilise effectively, we push for recruitment in every major city, and most importantly, we make you look like a hero to the outside world.’

  ‘A hero? I only thought in three battles, I doubt that will be a marking of a hero.’

  ‘No one needs to know the finer details. All they care about is that you are the Champion of Lash Crossing and the Survivor of Tundo. I think you can understand that we need a few lies to make the world think we are doing okay.’

  ‘Okay, so I’m not under trial. Why am I here?’

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He hands me the file. ‘Some of my agents collected intel on the Dogs and how your army is performing on all fronts.’

  ‘And how do I know any of this is accurate?’ I skeptically ask. I know I can trust my fellow officers, but to me, the Inspectors are just strangers. The formation can be true, but there is also a likely chance that they are sharing false information.

  ‘Doubting the validity of intel even if it is from an Inspector. That is the sort of mentality that keeps you vigilant and alive, keep it up.’ He pulls out a rolled-up cigarette and lights it. ‘My agents have been scouting the enemy and ally lines to gather any relevant information. Everything you need to know is in that file, but if you really want the short of it. The eastern front, previously under Commander Victor’s command, is about to or has already fallen, and the Dogs are going to take the road to the capital very shortly.’

  ‘Wait, what did you mean previously? Shouldn’t I have this information on my desk before you?’

  He flicks his cigarette. ‘Victor died two days ago fighting against Midrax and his horde east of the Saltback River. You’ll only get the news in a week, and by then it will be too late. The defences out east are in shambles, and your soldiers are doing their best to either slow the Dogs down or regroup for a counteroffensive. But I doubt much will come from it.’

  ‘What about the Western Front?’

  ‘Total chaos, the Dogs there are under the command of one known as Karl. Besides fighting in the open field like any standard army would, he is using shock tactics and keeping the Pretorian Guard on their toes. Every battle is a skirmish against five or six people at any given time and they always end in a bloody brawl. He is using the forest to his advantage, but so is the guard, as of now they are at a stalemate. While the Dogs are holding their ground, they won’t hold the line for long. I’ll deal with him myself; he just made the war personal to me, and I want to handle it on my own. On the other hand, your main focus should be on Marak and Midrax.’

  ‘I don’t get it. Why do you know all of their names?’

  ‘Should you care?’

  ‘I’m fighting an enemy who is fanatic enough to fight our Empire. I also need to understand my enemy if I have a chance of beating them.’

  The man nods with a grin, ‘impressing me once again. I suppose you deserve the truth at least.’

  What kind of truth? Though I suppose it is best to hear out what he is going to share, if it is something no one should know.

  ‘We knew the Dogs were going to break out.’

  What?! If they knew, why didn’t they do anything? ‘So what happened?’ I ask in a bitter tone.

  ‘This sort of thing happened before,’ he admits casually. ‘This is the third time the Dogs have successfully taken over their mine. You can say this is a seasonal event that happens ever so often. However, this is the only time they’ve successfully defeated our armies in battle and seized land.’

  ‘So where did you go wrong? Having experience against the Dogs a few times doesn’t mean much in a vacuum.’

  ‘And you are correct for pointing that out. We knew the third rebellion was going to happen in the South. We coordinated with Lee and a lot of other major slave owners and took some preparations. The thing with these uprisings is they follow a pattern, and often that pattern will lead to conditions for the Dogs to take up arms against us. It is so predictable that we have it all boiled down to a simple equation. We would be ready to step in and kill whoever would cause a problem when they take up arms. Not before, because that will cause more problems down the line, but during their uprising.’ The Inspector clears his throat before continuing. ‘With every mine, there is a chief, and a detailed profile of their personality and their attitude. We had two mines and a plantation under a very close eye. Letharus Mine, Bravens Mine, and Keyes Farm. Bravens being the most likely candidate for an all-out uprising, as we believe the death of their old chief will spark conflict amongst the slaves and guards. Keyes is the second most likely, as the chief was rumoured to be discussing anti-slavery rhetoric with the other slaves.’

  ‘But the war started in Dragon Mine.’

  ‘That it did, and none of us expected it.’

  I frown, ‘I met him, their king. There is no way you wouldn’t expect it if you have profiles on all of them.’

  ‘That is because something changed. Dragon Mine was also seen as the least likely to rebel, to the point that it didn’t have a wall surrounding the entrance. It was that low, the name didn’t even register on our desks.’ He says after putting out his cigarette. ‘We had the best warden in charge of keeping the Dogs in line; he was renowned for making the Dogs submit to his every will. He was even scheduled to be transferred to Bravens to calm things down. Marak, on the other hand, is an interesting individual. His file states that he is violent, but is a very loyal subject if you tell him what to do. He has a lot of followers as a chief, and his mine was the last to fail to meet its quota. So to us, he was a valuable asset to keep under our control. How or why he snapped, that I can’t figure out. Perhaps we will never know.’

  Remembering my conversation with Lee, I know something isn’t adding up. ‘That doesn’t sound right, Lee owned that mine, and he told me it was the most fortified.’

  ‘Lee will say anything to make himself look good after the fact. Saying he didn’t consider making the mine a fort after the fact would ruin that degenerate’s reputation.’

  ‘And how can I tell you’re not doing the same?’

  ‘Because he and many others are under investigation for treason for failing to uphold their end to maintain their property and estates. I won’t give you any other details relating to the case, but let’s just say they didn’t do what was expected of them in keeping the Dogs under tight control.’

  I glance over the file the Inspector gave me. So far, everything checks out. Though my stomach sinks at the fact that our eastern front collapsed. I need to push some reserves to counter their advance as soon as possible before Midrax takes me by surprise.

  ‘Why did we enslave the Dogs?’ I ask.

  The Inspector pauses at the sudden question, thinking what is appropriate to say. ‘A few things I can imagine, though if you want an answer, it is most likely because they were under our control before their enslavement and we just transported them to our island to work.’

  ‘You sound unsure of your own answer.’

  ‘Perhaps it is because there is a lot more to it. Or maybe, the answer is buried and forgotten on purpose.’

  Okay, I’ll drop the question. He won’t give a clear answer. No point in asking about ancient history, not if it angers a potential ally. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ I ask, though I hope he doesn’t have anything else to share.

  ‘I know you are suspicious of him. Look into Wayne, the Dragon Fleet is not sending any ships, and I think you’ll need them to aid your army. They are not mandatory, but I suggest you have a look if you can. Convince him to fight if you can, force him if you have to.’

  ‘If he isn’t sending his own soldiers, would that be treason?’

  ‘A good legal and ethical question, one I will not answer at this time. I am only making a suggestion.’

  I nod to him, understanding what he means. The Inspectors must have something going, but it seems they want me to play along, as it will either help them. Hopefully, it will help me as well.

  As I make my way to the exit, the Inspector speaks. ‘Once this war is over, feel free to join the Inspectors if you do what is expected of you.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Let’s just say the Inspectors is a very ancient organisation predating this Empire. While it is true we do our best to keep this island safe, our main objective is to prevent another Forgotten Era at all costs. What is expected for all of us is to prevent the end of the world.’

  ‘Will the Inspectors exist without the Empire?’

  He smiles. ‘The short answer is yes, we are known under a flag, but we do make sure to be everywhere. So, even when the Empire does collapse, we will still exist.’

  I turn to him, concerned as to what he is implying. ‘Our Empire stood the test of time; I doubt it will collapse.’

  He shakes his head, ‘the world is changing, Volas. It moved on from our outdated military strategies and doctrines, the colonies are becoming more and more of a hassle, and being an Empire is not a sustainable way to keep the world united. Cinaris will still exist, it will just change into something else.’

  ‘Turn into what?’

  ‘Something better and manageable. An empire will die, but that isn’t bad. For the world to change for the better and prevent a global catastrophe, maybe our Empire needs to die.’

  ‘Why are you telling me all of this?’ I sharply demand. All of these answers to my questions, and yet he is giving them away freely. What is his game?

  ‘Why? You ask the right questions, you know where to probe, but most importantly, you have potential. That is what makes an Inspector, someone who can get things done. But for now, it will be best that you take your leave. The bill isn’t in effect yet, and I don’t think we want to cause a diplomatic incident, do we?’

  ‘No. No, I do not.’

  I leave the room without saying my farewells. Still heart-stricken for what has happened.