Inside the dimly lit barracks of the town guards, the air was thick with the scent of sweat and damp wood. The faint crackling of a nearby lantern was the only sound—until a booming voice shattered the quiet.

  "Fairchild, Lumen, Evasco, Mikael, Old Nil, John, and… Rizty!"

  Rizty jolted awake, nearly falling off his cot as the guard captain’s voice rang through the room. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he barely had time to register what was happening before the captain continued.

  "You lot are to report to the Deputy Governor at Warehouse Number Four at seven o’clock sharp—that’s in an hour! Get your rifles, bullets, and pack enough clothes for two weeks. You’ll be escorting him somewhere, though they didn’t see fit to tell me where. Doesn’t matter. Orders are orders."

  He scanned the group with a hard glare. "Now get up, pack up, and move! The Deputy’s expecting you there."

  A heavy silence followed as the men exchanged uncertain glances. Then, with a chorus of groans and muttered curses, they scrambled to their feet, grabbing their gear.

  "Where in the world are we even going?" someone grumbled, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

  "Two weeks? What kind of escort job is this?"

  No one bothered to answer—not because they didn’t want to, but because they had no idea themselves. With a collective sigh, they finished gathering their things and trudged toward the warehouse.

  The closer they got, the more they noticed something unusual. The area around Warehouse Four was more heavily guarded than usual. Lanterns burned brighter, extra sentries stood at key positions, and the air carried a weight of quiet tension.

  "Something’s definitely up," Evasco muttered under his breath.

  Standing outside the gate, arms crossed, was Deputy Governor Mario, watching their approach with impatience. He motioned for them to hurry up. "Come on, pick up the pace!" Mario called.

  The group quickened their steps and gathered around him. Once they reached him, Mario wasted no time.

  "Alright, listen up," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "You’re here because we’re heading out on a long trip. Destination: Binatarian territory."

  A heavy pause followed. Rizty let out a low whistle.

  "Well, shit," Old Nil muttered. "That’s a long way."

  Mario smirked. "Yeah, and it’s not exactly a leisure trip. So I hope you all packed right. Now, let’s get inside—we’ve got a lot to go over before we leave."

  The guards pulled open the heavy wooden doors, allowing Mario and the seven to step inside. The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of wood, dust, and dry hay. Inside, a handful of workers were busy loading crates onto horse-drawn carriages, their movements efficient but unhurried.

  John eyed the carriages skeptically and asked, "So... these are taking us all the way to the desert?"

  Mario shook his head. "No, these are just for the first leg of the trip. We’re heading to the lake—our real transport is waiting for us there."

  That raised a few eyebrows, but no one asked further. Mario clapped his hands together. "We leave in an hour. Go to the first carriage and get comfortable, because once we get there, you’re the ones unloading these crates. The laborers stay behind."

  A few groans rippled through the group, but no one dared argue.

  "Save your strength," Mario added, giving them a pointed look. "You’re going to need it."

  With that, Mario strode deeper into the warehouse, weaving past stacks of wooden crates. In a separate section, several clerks and officials from the town hall were busy at work, meticulously counting and marking each crate with charcoal and ink. The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the walls as they muttered to one another, cross-checking inventories and ensuring everything was accounted for.

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  As they made their way toward one of the carriages, John nudged Risty with his elbow, flashing a smug grin. “So, they picked us for this special mission, huh? Just the seven of us. Because, you know… we’re special.”

  Risty let out a long sigh. “Hate to burst your bubble, John, but I doubt we’re here because we’re elite. It’s more likely we were chosen based on… circumstances.”

  John raised an eyebrow. “Circumstances?”

  Risty nodded. “Yeah. Fairchild’s an orphan, like me. Lumen and Evasco are refugees from the north. Mikael is… well, let’s just say I’ve never seen anyone visit him at the barracks, so I’m guessing he’s single.”

  Mikael scoffed. “That doesn’t make me weird.”

  John smirked. Risty ignored them and continued, “Old Nil’s a widower with no kids. And as for you, John…” He paused, glancing sideways at him. “Well, let’s just say women aren’t exactly falling over themselves to be with you.” The group erupted into laughter as John groaned, clutching his chest.

  “Risty, that was uncalled for. Absolutely savage.”

  Old Nil chuckled. “So basically, we’re a group of strays no one would miss if we vanished?”

  Lumen crossed his arms. “That’s one way to put it.”

  Evasco sighed. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds kind of depressing.”

  John leaned against a crate, smirking. “Hey, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. Who knows? Maybe we’ll come back as heroes.”

  Risty snorted. “Or not come back at all.”

  The laughter died down a little at that, but John just shrugged. “Eh. Either way, it beats sitting around the barracks all day.”

  +++

  After an hour, the convoy of carriages set off into the night, with Mario and his seven escorts leading the column. The dim glow of oil lamps flickered against the darkness, but their light was barely enough to illuminate the uneven path ahead. What should have been a half-hour journey stretched longer as the carriages navigated the rough terrain at a cautious pace.

  John peered into the darkness, frowning. “Huh. I don’t remember the path to the lake being this wide. It was barely more than a trail last time I checked.”

  Mario, reins in hand, nodded. “That’s because it wasn’t. We widened it on purpose to accommodate transport like this.” He gestured toward the convoy behind them. “Still, it’s a mess. Mud, potholes—makes for slow travel. But that’s another problem we’ll have to fix soon.”

  “For what purpose exactly are the roads for?” Risty asked, his curiosity genuine.

  Mario smirked but kept his eyes on the path. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  Risty frowned but let it go. Mario took a more serious tone as he continued, “That reminds me—where we’re going is classified. Top secret.”

  He straightened in his seat, his voice firm. “That means no one—and I cannot stress this enough—no one outside this group is to know what you’re about to see.”

  His gaze swept over them, making sure his words sank in. “Whatever you see, hear, touch, or even feel—keep it to yourself. Speak of it to no one. Understood?”

  The group exchanged uneasy glances. The sudden shift in Mario’s tone was enough to put them on edge.

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  One by one, they answered, their voices laced with uncertainty.

  Mario nodded. “Good. Because once we get there, there’s no turning back.”

  The air inside the carriage grew heavier with unspoken questions, but no one dared to ask. The convoy pressed on, the night swallowing them as they neared their destination.

  No one spoke as the wagons creaked uphill, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the occasional groan of the wheels the only sounds accompanying them. Above, the night sky stretched endlessly, scattered with countless stars, their faint glow barely enough to illuminate the path. The towering silhouettes of trees loomed on either side, their dark forms swallowing what little light reached the ground.

  Then, as they crested the hill, a sudden burst of brilliance spilled over the horizon. Before them, nestled straight ahead by the lake shore, was a dazzling cluster of lights—far brighter than anything in the town they had left behind. The contrast was striking. The warm, golden glow from the town’s oil lamps was nothing compared to the steady, unwavering luminescence ahead. It was unnatural but it was controlled and purposeful.

  One by one, the passengers leaned forward, craning their necks, peering past the wooden frame of the driver’s box, eager to catch a better glimpse. Even Mario, who had expected something impressive, found himself momentarily stunned.

  A low whistle escaped his lips. “So… they actually managed to hook up the lights to the power generator,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

  The realization sent a ripple of quiet excitement through the group. Whatever awaited them beyond those lights, it was something new—something different. And for the first time since they left, the weight of uncertainty was joined by an undeniable sense of anticipation.

  They arrived at what was clearly a secured perimeter. Towering palisades loomed ahead, stretching into the distance, their imposing height obscuring whatever lay beyond. The bright lights continued along the length of the barrier, casting long shadows over the rugged terrain.

  As the convoy slowed to a halt, a group of guards emerged from a small checkpoint structure. Their muskets rested against their shoulders, but their stances were alert. They had been expecting them.

  Mario climbed down from the wagon, dusting off his coat as the guards snapped to attention and saluted. He returned the gesture with a nod before addressing them.

  "Only these seven men will be going in with me," he instructed, gesturing to Rizty and the others. "The rest will board the last wagon at the rear and return to Lina. Make sure they get back safely."

  "Yes, sir!" one of the guards affirmed without hesitation.

  Turning to his escort, Mario motioned toward the remaining wagons. "Each of you, take control of a wagon and follow me inside," he ordered.

  The seven men exchanged brief glances, then climbed onto the driver's seats of their assigned wagons. With a crack of the reins and the creaking of wheels, they passed through the checkpoint and into the compound.