Gates to Tundo (Volas)

I sit anxiously on a bench near the entrance to the grand cathedral, sculptures of our Gods and angels looking down, judging my actions and motives. The flag of our Empire flies high above them all, our symbol of greatness, equal to our Gods.
Only people who are given permission by the high priest can enter the building to witness the beauty of the structures of a time long gone. They say the church has some of the most surviving technologies that still work after the Collapse, like lamps that can produce light forever, or light daggers. Weapons similar to what the Pretorian guard use.
The pedestrians chat and complain about their lives as they walk past. They argue about work, family, anything really, all ignorant that we are at war against our slaves. Perhaps it is better for them to stay ignorant. The news could cause pandemonium.
I look at the large clock tower to see the mechanical hands land on twelve. Rommel was meant to meet me here thirty minutes ago! Have I arrived late? Is this the right place? Why does he want to meet me here when we should already take a carriage to where I need to go?
I hop up from the bench, but before I can leave. I spot the decorated Commander in the distance, with his rolls of medals, proudly pinned to his black jacket.
‘Sincere apologies, Commander! A courier dropped by my office to deliver some important news,’ Rommel smiles. ‘Regardless, I am glad you offered your assistance.’
‘What of the Dogs? Have the relief force dealt with them?’ I ask.
‘They had some considerable delays, however I have been told they have the Dogs closed off and are about to make a decisive attack,’ he confidently reassures me. ‘However, I still need you at Tundo, in case we have any other problems with them. Who knows if the unloyal brats told our enemies about their escape.’
‘You are giving them too much credit, Commander!’ I laugh. ‘They are too backwards to understand the concept of diplomacy or civil conversation. They would think a human and a dodad are the same species.’
Rommel chuckles in amusement at my remark. ‘That is true, but for now, let’s get you to the city.’
I follow Rommel to the entrance of the cathedral with my bag firmly by my side.
He knocks three times at three different spots on the stone door. There, locks and tumblers fall and rattle into place. A nun in a large red and purple gown, covering every part of her skin, pries open the door.
She places her hands on her knees and bows to us. Rommel and I bow back in respect.
‘May the Gods guide you to your destination,’ she says in a soft, almost angelic voice.
‘Thank you sister,’ Rommel replies with a smile. ‘We are here to travel to Tundo. Is the gate ready for us to pass?’
She nods ‘The blessings of the Gods have opened the gate for you to travel. Please follow me, Commanders.’
She leads us through hallways of sculpted green marble, a material that only the best sculptures can mould. A tough material to work with, yet so beautiful once it finally takes shape.
Each piece of art depicts heaven and hell, our Gods in mortal forms and the wars they fought in to make our mighty Empire. Some are the size of my palm, others so large they could engulf the room.
On every wall are magnificent paintings of the church and our saints, depicting their life and death.
On the roof of the church is painted glass panels depicting the formation of the faith, the sun touching their luxurious colours, adds further beauty to the art inside.
This is equal to, if not more beautiful than, the palace itself. I am unworthy to stand in a room like this, to be in the presence of godly beauty. It has to be true that the Gods touched the hearts and souls of these artists, there is no other way a mortal can create such beauty.
We arrive at another set of doors. The nun mumbles a prayer as she kisses the door before opening it. Inside is a colossal room, void of art and beauty, dull white with painted yellow lines parallel to each other on the walls beside us.
The room feels so detached from the rest of the cathedral, it is clear the church is built around this room.
We follow the lines, heading deeper into the room, I stare in awe at the three towering structures, black and ocean blue arches with bright white light spewing from the centre. The Webgates, structures of the Forgotten Era. It is said they are the last remaining functional portals that are still around from the time of the Forgotten Era.
Excitement overtakes me as I watch the magical field ripple and wave through the air like water.
‘The one on the left will take you to Tundo. May Yihila guide you there safely.’ The nun bows before she leaves the room, closing the doors behind us.
Rommel laughs. ‘Seems like you’re eager to go through the gate!’
He walks up to the arch. Putting his hand through the light, which changes to match the colour of his jacket.
‘Make sure you hold on to your bag!’
He walks through the field, disappearing into the light. I walk around the arch to see he is at the other side. It is a portal! And the thing still works!
I walk up to the arch to put my hand through it. Only to pull it out when I feel the field contracting and distorting. Is it normal?
I hold my breath, griping my bag as tight as I can, making my body stiff and rigid.
This is it! No taking a step back, not now I’m here.
I walk into the field to emerge from the other side. The room is smaller, as is the Webgate. The room is also dull and void of art and beauty. Rommel amuse at my clearly terrified posture.
‘First timers always look like they shat themselves going through the gate,’ he laughs.
‘Should’ve told me to bring a spare set of pants!’
Rommel chuckles. ‘You should, but for now. I should welcome you to your new home.’
He escorts me outside, swinging the doors open to reveal a lively city. Different coloured cloths flutter around on windowsills, the scent of spiced meats and steamed vegetables fill the air rushes into my nostrils. Vibrant music plays at every street corner. A truly lively city.
‘Good afternoon, Commanders.’
I look down the stairs to see a uniformed soldier with slanted brown eyes and olive skin. What is a colonist doing here?
‘Regali, this is Huson. He is a part of the Outriders who were here training to be Sergeants. He will serve as your Scout Master during your occupation here.’
My blood boils! How dare he give me a colonist to be my Scout Master.
‘What is your rank and occupation?’ I question the colonist.
‘Sergeant of the Third Outrider Unit.’ He confidently replies.
‘How long have you served?’
‘Fifteen years, Commander, ten of them doing peace-keeping operations in Thesia and Rafica.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Thesia, sir.’
Great! Even if he has some experience under his belt, he came from a one of the most backwater places on this planet.
We have to give everything to them just to keep that place from falling apart. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has sympathies for the rebels trying to take what is rightfully ours.
‘That is all, Sergeant. Please wait at the barracks for my arrival.’
‘Yes, sir!’ He salutes me before marching off. Admittedly, he is competent, but nowhere near the quality of a Cinari conscript.
‘Why did you give me a colonist as my Scout Master?’ I growl at Rommel.
‘Don’t worry about him. This war would be done before you would even have a use for him. It’s more of a formality than anything else.’
I raise my brow. ‘So you gave me a placeholder?’
‘Correct. So don’t be upset about him being in your ranks, he won’t bother you.’
I look around the city. This place is so far east, I doubt there is any chance for the Dogs to get here. I guess this is more of a formality than an actual position. I suppose I will be safe after all and won’t see any action.
‘Alright Rommel, I will see you back at the Capital when this is all over.’
‘That’s the spirit! I’ll see you in a week or two at the Crystal Kingdom’s war room. Just go through the Webgates, it will save you a lot more time than if you take a horse.’
‘Will do, sir.’
We salute to each other before Rommel walks back into the small cathedral.
If he is right about how the war is going, victory is just a week away.

I make my way to the barracks, going through streets and past shops with fresh food and produce from the farms near the city. The slant eyed colonist stands at the entrance to the barracks, with his hands by his sides while he stands at attention.
The barracks looks relatively new, the surrounding walls seems clean and maintained, it’s masonry perfectly laid out.
‘Commander Regali!’ He salutes as I walk to the gate.
‘Sergeant Han.’ I salute back, not out of respect, but out of formality. Is Han his name? It does not matter either way. His name has no meaning to me.
‘May I escort you around the barracks and to your office, sir?’
‘Yes, that would be wonderful. And you can carry my bag while you’re at it.’
I chuck my belongings by his feet while I signal the gates to be opened. Inside are clearly young and newly recruited men and women, their uniforms a mess and the handling of their weapons are abysmal. Undisciplined, untrained, and unworthy to be stationed here.
While the walls look clean, the building itself looks ancient. Cobwebs cover the windows, the glass foggy as the dust sticks to them. I guess the wall is meant to hide the ugly inside.
‘Who is meant to be training these troops?’ I question Han.
‘The Sergeant responsible for training them hasn’t arrived yet, sir.’ He replies in a monotone voice.
‘So why didn’t you enforce discipline? Train them up until the trainer arrives?’
‘Sir, me and the-‘
‘Shut up!’ I interrupt him.
I cannot trust him to train my men or enforce discipline, let alone give me an honest answer without making a pathetic excuse. It’s common with colonists, especially those from Theisa.
Across the courtyard are piles of ballistas, all neatly stacked on each other. Upon closer inspection, they are Split Ballistas. Weapons able to fire three bolts at once, capable of piercing through even the thickest of armours. A remarkable piece of ancient kit, but that is what they are. Ancient. Collecting dust for over a century, but still in workable condition.
‘Why do we have Split Ballistas? The last time we used them was in Ishtu! That was over a hundred years ago Sergeant.’
‘They were here when we arrived, sir.’
‘That makes no sense! They are clearly in excellent condition, but outdated. Someone must’ve kept them clean and serviceable.’
‘Sir, perhaps the people stationed here can inform you on why they are outside.’
I turn to a young man with one boot on and an unbuttoned shirt. ‘Soldier!’ I point at him.
He springs up like an elastic band being released after being stretched to its breaking point. He sprints to me and gives me a sloppy salute that almost made him slap himself.
‘Can I help Sergeant?’
My face turns red, as this pathetic worm doesn’t even know my rank. Han smiles lightly, trying to hide his amusement.
‘It’s Commander! Private.’ The young man’s eyes widens as his turns white as I point to my insignia.
‘Now tell me, why are there ballistas in the courtyard?’
‘We took them out of storage so we can have rooms for us an-‘
‘How many troops are stationed here?’ I interrupt. From a glance, there are not enough troops to warrant the storage room to be cleared to make room for any more garrison soldiers.
‘Um... Thirty sir.’
Thirty! A city with a population over ten thousand and they stationed only thirty people to defend the entire city! Barracks like these can house five hundred soldiers without the storage room being cleared. These fools are wasting space that is needed for other things.
‘This place can house five hundred soldiers without the need to empty the storage room. Now get your friends over here and put them back where they belonged!’
‘Yes sir,’ he replies, rolling his eyes like a moody teenager.
Han grabs the man by the shoulder before he can walk off.
‘If you dare disrespect the Commander again, I promise to the Gods you will not shit right for a month!’ He shouts, his voice cracking with the volume of a million thunder strikes.
The man before him looks about to empty his bowels as he shakes in fear.
‘Salute to the Commander and follow his orders to the letter. Unless you want to get flogged.’
The man stands to attention to gives a salute that is almost proper. I salute back, staring down at the clearly terrified man.
‘It will be done, sir!’ The man walks off to his friends, trying to appear confident to hide his fear.
‘Well done!‘ I compliment Han. ‘Can you take me to my office before I write up a complaint on leadership here?’
‘Understood, sir.’ He replies.
He escorts me to my office. It is a small room with a desk, stacked with papers and files, and a single bed right next to it. I groan, This is a huge downgrade from to living in the palace. But at least it is clean.
‘Is this all I need to see, Han?’ I mumble.
‘Correct sir.’ He places my bag on my bed. ‘Unless you want me to continue showing you around the facility.’
‘No, I will be fine. I think I saw enough.’
I look out the window, watching as these green recruits chat and muck around. They are a disgrace to me, and an insult to the Empire.
‘Just get these men squared up and into shape. I don’t want them to panic when they see a slave walking around.’
‘Yes sir.’ He salutes. ‘The name is Huson, in case you need me. Just call my name and I’ll be here at a moment’s notice.’ I wave him off, not caring for his name. I just hope the Troops Manager isn’t as useless as he is.

For hours, I read through the files and documents that lay on my desk. At first, I feared they would all be a few years old. Thankfully, they are all up to date, relatively speaking.
A few troop movements in the southwest, stores being supplied and requested, the logistical headache of food rations, etc.
The town of Mindas seems to have had their small garrison force halved and moved to Outpost Starlight, out west from the town. Strange? Isn’t the threat coming from the south of the town?
I look through more papers, to find that Fort Galis, just located up north from the town, with what seems to be six hundred infantrymen and ten cavalry units are allocated to defend the small town.
I check around for any explanation for why such an order was given and why the town’s defence needs to head west and not south. Maybe it is just mistranslated by the person writing this document. It isn’t unheard of for a scribe to mishear or read something before writing it down. Looking at it again, it makes sense. Perhaps the garrison was sent south to assist with the relief force down there, bringing the end to the slaves’ hopeless rebellion.
That would explain why the relief force would stay in Mindas for such a short time, in case the original assault failed.
A knock erupts from my door, causing me jump to from my desk.
‘Come in.’ I command.
Hannah opens the door, stopping herself from saluting upon realising it’s me.
‘Volas! What are you doing here?’ She says.
I chuckle. ‘I was told to be in charge of the garrison force. So you must be the Troops Manager?’
Hannah frowns. ‘I guess I am. What do you think of this place?’
I sigh in frustration. ‘Well, the city looks beautiful. I will say I am very disappointed in the Outriders and Huson for not getting the people here disciplined and organised before I arrived. Yet again, what can you expect from having colonist being your Scout Master?’
‘I knew it would come down to this.’
She closes and locks the door behind her.
‘Volas, do you know when Huson and his men arrive here?’
‘A few weeks ago?’
‘Make that last night,’ she replies. ‘Huson and his Outriders got here last night. They just got the news that they won’t go home for a few more months.’
‘And how did you get this important information?’ I demand.
‘From Huson!’
‘He is just saying that to cover himself, Hannah. Anyone from Theisa are lying scum.’
‘You little-‘ Hannah cuts herself off, taking in a large breath. ‘Volas, there will come a time where you must realise people like Huson are your best allies. And by treating them with disrespect, you will only get yourself and others hurt.’
I turn my back on her, ignoring her pathetic excuse for advice. Believing that a colonist would be a better option than Cinaris soldiers is a free ticket to failure.
‘That is all, Sergeant Black. By tomorrow I want a report on everyone here and what needs improving.’
Hannah looks at me in shock. We have never addressed each other by our surname, even during training.
Yet she must know that I am in charge, and that her ideals are only a liability to this garrison force, and to me.
Hannah gives me a salute and stomps out of my office. ‘Understood, Commander Regali.’
I look back at my paperwork, trying to concentrate on my task. I did the right thing. She must learn that trusting and following that false belief that the colonist are my better option just shows her naivety.