The Enemies

The Heart of Moneree

Please don't mind the grammar. It took me two weeks to edit this chapter. And I realize more and more than I am kinda team Oden ha-ha. He is a great dude.

Oden

My head whirls when I return from the Council meeting. Our positions weakened, supplies low. The mistrust and disappointment is staring at me when I look in the eyes of the soldiers. Absent-mindedly I wonder through the gloomy rooms of the house. The semi-darkness and the blackwood morphing into one dark spot. I end up in the book bedroom, my hand sliding through the lifeless pages of long-forgotten stories. I pick up a book and flip through, my mind forming the potential scenarios of the defense plan. Moneree is secured. Karmians are not strong enough for direct attack.

Light as a feather, a piece of paper flies out from the book and lands on the dark floor. I hold an exaptionaly white paper with strange ornament at the bottom. It used to be crumpled but not anymore. Now it is smooth and crisp from time spent between the words of the story, though the former whinkles show through its treaturous folding lines.

A note.

'My decision to be recruited should be mine and mine alone. It is my duty as a true Karmian. You don't need to join with me. I know you do not wish to. You deserve peace after so many years at war with the world and yourself. Despite what you think, you are warm and peaceful like Moneree, Rhea. Yes, with a raging winter inside. But Karmians survive winter. Don't let it kill that enormous ability to love and live. You are my sister, my stronghold and my rage. To me, you have always been and will remain the heart of Moneree. Tadgh'

It stays in my hands for several moments. A glimpse from someone's past, taken by war. A glimpse at someone's future, destroyed by grieve.

The grey of the sea melts into the grey of the sky, as I stare at the white in my hands.

Who is she?

I slip the note inside my pocket and make my way to the kitchen. My dinner is slender. I do not bother to light the fire and already freezing. I hurry to my room and polish the plate in front of the chimney. I should have stayed with my team. They even have some sort of self-made bar in one of the apartments. I should have done many things otherwise. Like a Drellian. But I never will. Before retiring for the night, I add extra wood and watch the fire burn bright. In small hope to get warmer, I remain close to the flames for just a little longer.

A distant noise wakes me in the middle of the night. Reflexively I reach for my gun. The fire is still burning hot, room still warmly lit. I come closer to the door, straining my ears. Another muffled sound comes from downstairs. I cross the room and examine the street. Nothing. Neither cars nor any other type of vehicle.

Shit. The burglars.

This is why it is a bad idea to live far away from the main forces. And people in general. Barefoot I gently turn the knob and tiptoe out to the hallway. All the doors in the hall are closed. They are on the first floor, presumably in the kitchen.

Silently I make my way downstairs. The stairs are wide and end with a spacious marble hall. It opens to several arcs and doors. The kitchen is on the right with the lights on. Judging by the heat, someone even lit fire in the fireplace. My grip on the gun tightens. Walking up slowly, I enter the room, my gun in front of me.

Next to the stove stands a woman with her back to me. A dark blue coat and a pair of warm pants paired with boots I have never seen before. Not Drellian.

'Put your hands up and turn around.'

The woman snorts and does what I ask.

'Rhea.'