Chapter 16

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After a two hour trek out of the Jasmidianite gorge and a four hour drive back to the Kemarian temple, Brant stumbled out of the armored car and into the darkness of the night. His legs cramped. Whether it was from the long hike or the lengthier drive, he was unsure. Probably both. 

Pushing through the pain, he retrieved Eagle from where they had tied him to the back of the vehicle. The bearded swordsman easily complied with whatever motion Brant forced upon him. His calm demeanor still concerned Brant. 

With a shrug, Brant marched from the line of cars to the makeshift base. General Trackenkaken, Ace, and Keira hurried to follow, leaving the Innutukian soldiers behind to complete the task of unloading. Brant's ears itched to hear answers to the myriads of questions that had boiled in his mind the whole drive over. 

Brant maneuvered Eagle around the Kemarians and Innutukians milling about inside the temple before hustling him into the briefing room. He pulled a chair out with his foot and forced the bearded swordsman down onto it. Eagle made no protest of the show of force, opting instead to sit impassively. 

Brant and Ace stood and stared the man down while Track and Keira darted out the door to retrieve witnesses. Before long, they returned with Aaron, Hannah, Baird, and the four Innutukian captains filing in behind them. A few uninvited Kemarians wandered in before the Track shut the door. 

Eagle swept a gaze over the assembly with a light smirk perched on his lips. "I truly didn't expect such an audience. Not, of course, that I object, but—" 

Track interrupted by stepping forward and landing a solid slap on the swordsman's cheek. He hit with such a forcefulness that it turned his head. "Keep quiet!" he roared, "This is no joking matter." 

Eagle shrugged. His lips pursed, as if holding back a torrent, but he said nothing. 

Brant stepped forward. "Where do we even begin with you? How about you tell us why you need to assemble so many Alcontean troops into one place? What in the world are you gearing up for?" 

"Isn't it obvious?" Eagle asked. "It ought especially to be so to you, Falcon. You were among us once; you know the traditions." 

Track's fist clenched. "I'm about ready to strike you again. Away with the crypticism!" 

He sighed. "Dove's coronation as Captain of the Alcontean Hordes hastens upon us. To that end, all Alconte's armies must be gathered together for the ceremony, to the very last man." 

Track raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I'm mistaken, but I thought Dove was your god of peace." 

Brant cleared his throat. "Well, define 'peace'." 

The general narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He opened his mouth a few times, visibly reconsidered, and shut it. Finally, he shrugged. 

Aaron smirked and turned to Baird. "How about we ask the wordsmith?" 

"Peace is...a state of calmness, of tranquility." Baird said slowly, "The absence of strife." 

"From a certain point of view, yes." Brant agreed, "But Dove sees it differently. To him, peace isn't only the absence of conflict, but the cessation of it. To him, peace is the death of troublemakers. Through that doctrine, Dove can be rightly called the god of peace, but also of war." 

"Peace is merely a war won." Eagle added. 

Track nodded. "Stupidity veiled in intellectualism vexes me." 

"Same here." Baird remarked with a chuckle. 

"If you have more questions to ask me, I urge you to hasten to it." Eagle said, "I'm growing sleepy." 

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