2412, Rab 27, Velpa

The volcano's acidic fumes assaulted Sera's nose and the back of it, but it's not like he could run off. Not now, when the game's slowly becoming more interesting. His hand was becoming stronger with each draw, and he couldn't wait for the time he'd have to call for a shoot. These cowards kept chiming even though all the higher cards from each house were now distributed among them.

Never in Sera's wildest dreams did he imagine he'd end up playing poserne with a bunch of prison guards at the base of a volcano. Said volcano also had a caldera full of bubbling lava, and here he was, focusing on strengthening his hand for a chance to ask the guards something he's been curious about.

He also never imagined being back in Gaimouth in such a short amount of time, but circumstances called for it. When they went out for fieldwork, gathering information about the volcano prison, the fires, and how they connected to each other, no one had gotten more than a transcript of nonsense and baseless rumors.

Mentioning Desara was another dead end. Apart from the people lambasting the water sprite territory because of how worse they did economically, no one could contribute anything beyond that. His message to Nelnifa also came unanswered. Maybe his friend was occupied by something else, and he couldn't blame her for it. Between the two of them, Nifa was more of a royal than Sera would ever be.

Finally, when they have been driven up too many walls, Sera decided he'd risk another journey to Gaimouth and learn more secrets on his own, straight from the source. Of course, he met a strain of resistance, but he had every confidence the other writers along with Darmer could keep the press floating for a couple more days. This was the information mine of the century. No way Sera would pass this story up.

That's how he arrived at Gaimouth's base and found not one but three guards waiting on the lone table beneath the spire. This time, though, he didn't bother going up to the prison and meeting the warden. He came specifically for a game of poserne, or at least that's what he told the guards when they asked. Bored out of their living embers, they looked for any source of entertainment to pass the time, and Sera was more than happy to oblige. Of course, in exchange for the information he's looking for.

He hasn't even played poserne in so long. The only thing he remembered were the cards from each houses taking up random occupations in the island. Cards ranged from the High Queen, the Priestess, the Crown Princess, the Marshal, the Potentate, to the lower ranks such as the Scholar, the Jeweler, the Sailor, the Tinker, the Tailor, and other sorts he couldn't come up with at the top of his head.

It was only when the guards explained the rules again that his memory sparked. Of course, that's how one played this somewhat complicated game. And since then, he was locked in a four-round game where his chance of asking a question the guards wouldn't be able to refuse to answer hung in the balance.

He snuck a glance at his hand. All from different houses, so a current worthy of shooting was beyond his reach. The next thing he could think of was to get a nest or a catch. But the two High Queens were already thrown down, discarded just to sabotage the chances of ever getting the strongest hand when a shoot would happen. These guys looked like they played poserne for a living with how harsh their plays were.

Sera chanced it and drew a card. The Sailor from the House of Leranna. He had the Sailor from the House of Murco. Now, he only needed The Sailor from any of the remaining four Houses to win this round. The other players chimed, passing their turn to draw a card. What were they waiting for? They could have called for a shoot already. If Sera chimed, they'd have no choice but to shoot, anyway.

Instead, he discarded The Jeweler from the House of Noglea. A slight shift on the expression of the guard opposite Sera. Hmm. Hoping for a nest as well, it seemed.

"So," Sera ventured, casually plucking a card from the face-down pile and adding it to his hand. "What can you tell me about the prisoners? I hear they're not here for long."

The guard opposite him scoffed, taking a swig from the cup containing stale ale. It's nothing like the Xelasaraz he enjoyed at the palace, but it'd have to do. "You're not getting something from us just yet," he said. "Chime."

"You must be so sure of your hand to do that," the guard to Sera's left said. "Shoot."

Sera raised an eyebrow, his insides coiling into such tight knots. He still hasn't gotten his last sailor! Nothing could fight the call for shoot, though, meaning the others were only ensuring their chances by watching the mannerisms and expressions of their opponents. With Sera still drawing and discarding, it betrayed his need to build his hand. He was eliminated before the game even started. Has he always been this easy to read?

He laid the cards on the table, and blinked. And blinked some more. What in Umazure...

"Look at that, kid," the guard to Sera's right gave him a quick and light punch on the arm. "You have the strongest hand with two Sailors. It's the best any of us could come up with."

Sera glanced at the other hands, and...yes, all of them had varying degrees of weakness. That's what made this game interesting while playing with their style. In other territories, they held onto their High Queens and Priestesses until their last breaths, these people discarded theirs as if they had nothing to lose. It made winning for other players harder and more...up to chance.

It's not necessarily the smartest play—Nifa would have other opinions and scathing remarks about this—but when they're passing time like this, it's better to play with more variability and thrill.

"So, do I get to ask my question now?" Sera said.

"Yeah, sure," the guard opposite him waved his hand in the air. He lost to Sera with two Tinkers from different houses—a nest in itself, but Tinkers were lower than Sailors in the cards' rankings. "You asked about the prisoners?"

Sera bobbed his head. "And where they're going after spending a bit of time in Gaimouth," he said. "I heard something about Desara, but I'm not too sure. What would the water sprites have to do about our affairs?"

The guards glanced left and right before leaning over in a conspiratorial stance. "Look, we're not supposed to be handing this info to anyone, but a pact is a pact," the one in Sera's left said, vouched for by nods from the others. "I heard the warden one time speak to a certain individual called a Magistrate, and they're working for something called Cardovia."

Sera cocked an eyebrow. "And what interest do they have with our prisoners?"

"No idea," the guard to Sera's left answered. "But if you ask me, I'd say they're looking for manpower. It's the only explanation that makes sense. With the rise of favor for private armies, it's only plausible this Cardovia thing dispenses them like versallis out of pockets."

"What would people need private armies for?" Sera frowned. "Isn't that kind of accumulation of power...illegal? What does Edgerift have to say about it?"

Right Guard shrugged. "The High Queen's been gone for a long time, and things haven't been good in the Junction City lately," he said. "With the bombings and all in Thenaserine, it's impossible to even gather the Unseelie Court for a proper meeting, much less, the Seelie Court."

"And it's the least of the Seelie Court's concern at the moment," Left Guard added. "Did I mention Cardovia was involved in a lot of other things as well?"

Sera narrowed his eyes. "Tell me," he said. "And yes, that's part of my win."

He couldn't afford to be stuck in another round just so he could hear this new thread of information.

Opposite Guard stared at Sera as if he had grown wings on his back. "What rock have you been living in to never heard of such basic events?" he asked. "Don't make me repeat the last few months to you."

Sera's retort died in his throat. Of course, with the Potentate's strict hand around what information came in and out of the territory, it's no wonder Sera knew next to nothing about other territories other than what his friends outside Lanbridhr tell him through infrequent correspondence. He found out about the High Queen's death a month after it happened.

The restriction was less in the military, though, which explained the uneven level of knowledge between regular people and those who have climbed enough rungs in the Potentate's favor. Where had these soldiers been all of Sera's life? They would have been wonderful assets for the Ember Chronicles.

"Sadly, you have to," Sera said, gesturing to the side of his head. "Common folks don't get as much information from beyond the borders as the military does."

Right Guard squinted. "Are you sure you're as common as you say?" he asked. "You speak more eloquently than one."

Oh. Sera's back straightened. "Sorry about that," he rolled his eyes and snorted. "I work under a noble as a scribe. Sometimes I forget who I'm talking to. Prim and proper is the default, though."

"This is a long way from Calca, then," Left Guard leaned away and rested his weight against the spire's side, reminding Sera that one wrong move from him, and he would topple off to the mound's base. What would magma feel like against his skin? He wasn't that thrilled to find out now. "You sure you're not lost?"

"Did you run away?" Opposite Guard wagged a finger in the space between him and Sera. "Oh, I don't want to deal with your boss if he finds you here."

Sera stuck a lip out. "He won't find me," he said. "Because I'm here on a day off. I believe I earned that from working too hard the past few weeks."

"And yet you spend it out here?" Right Guard asked. "Don't you have a family?"

Sera opened his mouth to answer that he did in fact have one, but the words stopped in his throat. He ended up blowing a breath and folding his hands together. "I don't," he said. "It's..complicated."

A curse flitted out of Right Guard's lips. "Sorry, that's callous of me," he said. "And...well, about your question, let's just say the last few months have been absolute aksaba crap."

Sera's eyebrows crept higher and higher as the guards took turns in spilling what happened since the beginning of the year. Cardina, the only Human territory in Umazure, underwent a civil coup from mostly half-bloods who had enough of their treatment behind the borders. The entire royal family was killed, and a new king sat on its throne. Then, the banshee territory, Carleon, was attacked by their own army, the Necrom, and the leader was their own Crown Priestess.

The plateau of Helinfirth crashed down all over its livelihood city, Rabante, after the Crown Princess tried to quell an attempted invasion from some other force. "Is that another private army?" Sera asked.

Opposite Guard took another swig from his cup. "Could be," he said. "There is an abundance of those; it's impossible to tell which one was responsible for what."

More news poured from the guards as if they're only looking for someone to spill all the secrets to all this time. Alkara suffered an occupation, killing its monarch in the process. The Crown Prince and his lover were missing, never to be found. Peltra's impenetrable fortresses in Yin-Alora and Xai-Ren were decimated in the same day, resulting in the death of its rulers. Their heir was also nowhere to be found. There were rumors of sightings in Nanvera, but according to Opposite Guard, it's not something they could go off on.

Dwanzeig had apparently signed away its rights for autonomy on their borders under the pressure of war inside their sanctuaries—the kind of war they couldn't afford.

"And what does Cardovia have to do with those events?" Sera ventured.

"Recent verifications conclude Cardovia was behind the Necrom Invasion in Carleon. Dwanzeig too," Left Guard said. "Some say they're responsible for Peltra and Helinfirth too, but that could be inaccurate."

They're capable of getting territories to bow to them? Cardovia wasn't a normal private army, that much Sera was certain now. To be able to move forces that'd get the highest authority in the land to move, it's a dangerous thing to contend with. And if they have entered a deal with Gaimouth to accept prisoners to fund their army...

"Does the Potentate know about these proceedings?" Sera scratched his head, pretending to be confused but interested. He was only interested, but never confused. After all the nefarious things his father did and enabled in his territory, it'd not be a surprise if he's abetting interterritorial terrorism too.

The guards looked around and above them once more. What were they afraid of? Sera took care to remove each and every listening device that came with his vests. They're safe with him. Opposite Guard pursed his lips, his cup long drained of ale. "We're not supposed to say anything about the Potentate," he said. "But I'll weigh in."

"I think he knows," the guard continued. "It's either he's letting it happen and pretending he didn't have a hand on it, or he pushes the prisoners out himself."

Sera scoffed. "For what?" he said. "It's not like there's anything that'd threaten him at this point."

"Do you know why Lanbridhr remained relatively peaceful all this time?" Left Guard interjected. Sera had to shake his head, making the guard smirk. "Thought so. These private organizations had every power to crush territories if they willed it. Why do you think they haven't touched Calca until now?"

It clicked, and when it did, it made Sera's gut sink. "He's entered into a symbiotic deal with them," he breathed. "The territory's safety in exchange for whatever they needed."

The guards bobbed their heads, far too pleased with themselves to have chatted their whole afternoon off. One glance at the horizon, and Sera noted the dimming sky and the spread of stars appearing in their random constellations. He had to get back to Calca at the earliest instance, and he had spent enough time here. Not to mention he needed some time to process everything he heard. Maybe some of it would end up in his future articles, but he'd figure it out on the journey back.

"Thank you for your time," Sera inched out of the mound and let his sandals settle on the hard and dusty ground. "I truly enjoyed the game."

He was about to turn away and head off, when Left Guard spoke. "I would advise you to be careful," he said. "Nosing into things you won't be able to handle can lead you to disaster's door sooner or later."

"And when it arrives, it might be too late," Right Guard added. It's a shame, not learning their names even though they helped him greatly. Still, Sera didn't see the reason for being afraid. Let those disasters come. He'd face them like how he did these past few years. Some things might be possible if he tried hard enough. That, or these guards were right, and it'd end Sera in the worst way. But...they'd never know unless they tried, right?

Sera's sandals scratched against the mound when he turned to face them again. "Thank you for that advice," he said with a polite bow. "I'll keep that in mind."

It's time for another mind-numbing travel, giving Sera an eternity to ponder on everything he learned. Could Cardovia have something to do with the fires? How? Up until now, Sera wasn't aware there was a strain of fire even their synnavaim couldn't control. Was Cardovia aware of that and was using it to sow chaos inside Lanbridhr's borders? What for? As far as Sera was concerned, the Fire Potentate was their ally. They wouldn't go as far as torch their own allies, right?

But it only proved how little Sera knew about them and how much faith he had in people. Because in organizations such as this, loyalty and allegiance didn't always mean the same thing, and perhaps, Sera was just about to find out in the days to come.

When he arrived in Calca a few days after, he had already composed his next article. If they were lucky, they'd have it printed and distributed by tomorrow. Wait until Blazes heard about this; she'd flip her sconces off.

All thoughts flitted off Sera's head when the smell of burning wood wafted into his nose. Ash flitted in the air, joining the shift of sand particles. Burning. Something was burning in the heart of the oasis.

Within seconds, his legs pumped forward, taking his form into a mad dash across the alleys and the sloughing sand. He only slowed down when the establishments turned familiar and he stared at only the bare bones of what once had been the press.

What in Pidmena's name happened here?

He had an answer to that; he just didn't want to say it out loud. Because if he dared admit it, then, everything he worked hard for had gone to the flames until there was nothing but ashes and embers—something no fire sprite should ever have to go through.

But the press did, and perhaps, it was retribution dealt by Calaris itself.

Or worse—one brought about by his father.