CIRCE

iv

Calon is as it always is; busy, bustling, and the center of Eijoan society. After hours away among dust and stone, returning to the capital city is a welcome relief. Calon is comfortable. Calon is familiar. Calon is home.

Lonan carries a satchel on her shoulder, weighted with tools collected from the stronghold within The Ruins. Her body aches with the exertion, but so close to home, Lonan can tolerate it. Each of the exploratory party carry one as well. They had collected the most valuable from the stronghold's storage, primarily tablets that hold records from the Old World as well as a few weapons, including Tannier's special phaser, which he carries now on his hip. Though it's small, his chest is puffed out in pride, which makes Lonan grin even as she tries to hide it.

As they near the front steps of the Canstoll, a grand building of a marbled, white stone built around the largest tree in the region, Lonan stops and addresses the exploratory party.

"We'll store the weapons and tech in my apartment until I can properly introduce them to the appropriates teams. I'll have some engineers examine the tech. As for the weapons, I want to begin with a small group just to make sure we know what they do and how to use them before we start distributing them to the masses."

As much as the discoveries from the stronghold are blessings, they are just as dangerous. Such technology, pieces of the Old World, can attract unwanted attention if word of them reaches too far. As for the weapons, if no one can master them then misuse is bound to happen, and misuse brings injury. She will hand over their findings to her most trusted first to experiment and explore safely. Only then, once they know what they're doing, will she consider making them available to the bulk of their classes.

"Good," Tannier says. He sticks close to her side even now, within the heart of The Eijoa, ever watchful. "If you want, I could form a team to handle the weapons. Warriors I know and trust." Tannier pauses and his tone becomes meek. "If you're more comfortable with that, of course. If you'd like to form your own group..."

He trails off, his understanding if she were to choose her own team clear in his silence. However, Lonan is already certain about his offer. Just as she trusts him with her life, she trusts him with the not-so-dire as well.

"I trust you to pick the right people," Lonan says.

However, Tannier falls silent before he has the chance at a reply. He stiffens and drops his satchel, which draws Lonan's attention to an incoming messenger who scurries in from the north. Her more congenial manners drops, the Pathfinder's reticent nature icing her over, as Tannier's grip falls to the hilt of his blade. He shifts his position so he is between her and the messenger, suspicious with the messenger's hasty pace and perturbed expression.

"What is it?" Tannier asks.

Lonan signals Tannier to ease as she murmurs; "It's alright."

Though his hand doesn't drop from his blade nor does frown melt, Tannier steps back, allowing the messenger to approach her. The messenger's eyes are wide and there's a paleness to his cheeks. He is breathless as well, as though he had sprinted his way here. He doesn't wait for her to give him approval to speak, his words tumbling out the moment he's close enough for her to hear.

"It's Orende, at the border. They send you this, and should you ignore it, it comes with a war force."

Lonan bites her cheek to conceal her rather visceral reaction to such news. A war force is frightening like the shadow of a knife in her peripherals. However, what leaves her shocked is that it has come from Orende, a kingdom that has actively ignored any formal relation with The Eijoa.

The messenger hands her a paper letter. She takes it, leaning toward Tannier for him to see.

Pathfinder of The Eijoa,