Voss stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "Briefing in one hour. Command room. Everyone."
Cinder groaned from his bunk. "Everyone means Wraith too?"
"Everyone."
Wraith was already gone, her bunk empty. Cinder muttered something about her never sleeping.
Cian pulled on his boots, checked his badge, and followed the squad through the corridors. The command room was on the second level, a large chamber with a long stone table and a map of Lumerian Kingdom on the far wall.
A woman was already there, standing by the map. She was in her forties, with short grey hair, sharp eyes, and a scar across her jaw. She wore the Black Badger jacket but no mask.
Voss took his seat at the head of the table. "This is Maren Cross. She handles external contracts."
Maren nodded. "Sit."
They sat.
Maren spread a parchment across the table. The map showed the southern provinces: Arden, Dunseu, Southern Desert, Urple.
She pointed to a location on the map. "Southern border. Between the Southern Desert and Urple. Two weeks ago, a patrol from Urple reported lights in the desert at night. Fires, signals, something moving where nothing should be."
She looked at Voss. "The governor of Urple doesn't have the resources to investigate. He filed a request through channels. It landed on my desk yesterday."
Cinder leaned forward. "What kind of lights?"
"Signal fires. Patterned. Someone is out there, and they don't want to be found." Maren tapped the map. "The Southern Desert is no man's land. No settlements, no patrols, no law. Perfect place for something you want to hide."
Voss studied the map. "Cult activity?"
"Possible. Or smugglers. Or something worse." Maren's voice was flat. "The governor mentioned rumors of strangers in Urple itself. People asking questions, buying supplies in bulk, speaking with accents from the southwest."
"Marina," Echo said quietly.
Maren nodded. "Marina Kingdom is the closest neighbor to that region. But there's no proof yet."
Voss traced the route on the map with his finger. "We leave in three days. Route: from here to Arden, then south through Dunseu to the Southern Desert. Then west to the border with Urple."
Cinder whistled. "That's a long walk."
"We'll move fast. Travel light. No wagons, no unnecessary gear." Voss looked at Echo. "You're on navigation. Plot the fastest route with resupply points."
Echo nodded.
"Obsidian." Voss turned to Cian, using his codename. "You've been training. Now you see what it's like outside the mountain. You stay close. You follow orders. You don't do anything stupid."
Cian met his eyes. "Understood."
Maren gathered her parchment. "The governor is expecting you. He'll provide whatever support he can. But don't rely on him—he's scared, and scared men make mistakes."
She left the room. The door closed behind her.
Cinder stretched. "Marina, huh? Thought they were friendly."
"Friendly is a performance," Voss said. "Everyone performs."
Echo was already studying the map, tracing routes. "Dunseu is marshland. Slow going. We'll need to plan for mud, insects, limited visibility."
"And the Southern Desert is the opposite," Cinder added. "Dry, hot, no water. We'll carry extra."
Voss looked at Cian. "Any questions?"
Cian considered. "What are we looking for?"
"Anything out of place. Camps, structures, people who don't belong. If it's a cult, we identify and report. If it's Marina military, we identify and report. If it's something else…" Voss paused. "We adapt."
He stood. "Three days. Prepare your gear. Echo, have the route ready by tomorrow."
The squad dispersed.
Cian sat on the floor of his cave, his gear spread before him.
He had never packed for a mission like this. The campaign was different—formation movement, supply lines, a defined objective. This was small unit infiltration. Speed mattered. Weight mattered.
He laid out his equipment: his swordspear, wrapped in oiled cloth. He would strap it to his back when they were out—hands free for climbing, running, stealth. His knife, newly purchased. His badge. A water skin. Dried rations. A small medical kit. A coil of rope. A signal whistle. A map of the southern provinces, copied from the command room's wall.
He looked at the map. The route passed through Arden's pastures, then into Dunseu's marshes, then into the Southern Desert's emptiness. Days of travel. Unknown dangers.
He folded the map and tucked it into his coat.
He sat at the Sotael circuit and breathed. The Thousand Mirage rhythm. The circuit hummed, amplifying the flow. He held the pattern for a quarter hour, letting the clarity settle.
Then he switched to the Unseen March breathing. Shadow drawn from light. Silence drawn from sound. He would need speed. Stealth. The ability to disappear.
He opened his eyes. The cave was dark. The lamp had burned low.
He stood, blew it out, and walked to the quarters.
Cinder was already snoring. Echo read by lamplight. Voss sat on his bunk, eyes closed, breathing slow. Wraith was in her cave.
Cian lay on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. He thought about the mission. The border. The lights in the desert. The possibility of a cult or foreign agents.
He thought about the fragments in his journal, hidden beneath the loose board. This mission had nothing to do with them. But the skills he was learning—stealth, observation, combat—would serve him when the time came.
He closed his eyes. The Unseen March breathing settled him.
Three days. Then the road.