The War of the Isles

5. Charlie

"Coin for Chroniclers?" two men asked.

"Are you covering the war?" I asked back.

The Chroniclers nowadays were not just storytellers but also newsmen - the source of information for all the people at the frontlines. They travelled everywhere to provide relevant information, oftentimes at personal risk. These two men claimed to have come from Kalhiem. I had been called by two men on patrol after they were spotted.

"Your identification?" I requested.

The men took out two parchments from their pockets. Their names - Jerry Mane and Sigor El. I then checked for the Nyewekh seal - with the symbol of a wheel with four spikes.

"Have a look at their belongings, be thorough," I commanded the two men behind me. 

"Come with me gentlemen."

They followed me to the second floor of the tower. Dhara's room. I knocked.

"Chroniclers demanding your audience," I shouted through the door.

A sudden rush of footsteps and a few creaks here and there could be heard through the door. A chair dragged somewhere, a table pushed somewhere else. Every new sound suggested a new activity followed by a frantic "WAIT!"

"WAIT!" The windows were opened. "WAIT!" The sound of a lantern glass being closed. "WAIT." I think she might have slipped somewhere and fallen...

I suppressed a snicker. The Chroniclers looked confused but I knew what she was up to.

Finally, in a very sing-song voice, she called out, "Come in!"

We entered the room.

It was amazing how the room looked neat and organised enough, when just about a minute ago it would've looked like home to baboons. There were a few chairs, neatly stacked in rows to the left. I looked over at the tidy cot on the right by the fireplace. Then I looked at the well-lit lantern hanging just above her table. The table was filled with maps, covered immaculately by a sheet and a few quills and ink symmetrically organised beside a little box. The contents of the box, known only to Dhara and me. 

I took a quick sniff of the room just to make sure. It cleverly smelled of aromatic incense sticks made by the local herbsman.

Well done Dhara.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I do not intend to employ you and waste unit money unless you have something relevant for me."

The man named Jerry stroked his blonde beard and removed his grey hat. Both men wore similar outfits of grey and green, the Nyewekh colours, their tricorne hats traditionally fitting the description of a libertarian Chronicler.

"I think it's best if we speak alone, Seargent Major Von Fiedler."

Dhara ran her fingers through her short dark hair, looked at me and blinked. Or perhaps winked. Hard to tell with one eye covered in that patch.

"Master Seargent Moller stays."

Jerry looked at me uncomfortably and then looked back at Dhara.

"Well, if that would be the case, I regret to inform you both that Kalhiem has been captured."

Dhara raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It is exactly what it is madam. This morning, the Achman dragon unit burned down the fort. Most of the 18th perished in the fire, some were captured and some managed to escape."