As one, the command team clamped their mouths tight shut and became suddenly interested in the various corners of the room. To his credit, Oliver ignored their immediate reluctance as he made his way to the centre of the room. With a relaxed but expectant expression, he leaned casually against the table, folded his arms and fixed each man in turn with a knowing look. Alter proved first to succumb to the awkward pressure, unclenching his jaw and splaying his fingers across the surface of the table.

  “Alright. Before I begin I want you to understand that a lot, if not all, of what I’m telling you is pure conjecture and working theory. That said, where would you like me to begin?”

  “Why, from the beginning, if you please.” Oliver smiled.

  Alter exhaled a slow, hissing breath and began his attempt at sane explanation. He spoke of the moment the two of them had spoken after their raid on the bandit fort, and of the jarring message that had inserted itself into the centre of the command team’s visions. Certain details were excluded, such as the string of characters that resembled a world seed and their midnight resupply. Oliver listened intently, nodding along and making small acknowledging noises as Alter continued.

  “So, this outside power of yours, who may or may not be He that gazes beyond, directed you to aid me in securing my position?” Oliver clarified.

  “Essentially.” Alter confirmed, quite happy to omit the fact that Oliver’s name was not directly mentioned in their official instruction.

  “I see, continue.”

  From there, the day's events were recounted to a reasonable level of accuracy. From Boozehound’s sense of euphoria, to Alter’s mental mauling and Riptide's dutiful reaffirmation.

  “This is certainly a lot to take in, both for me and I suspect far more for you.” Oliver conceded.

  “I apologise for not telling you about it sooner, however given the nature of what we’ve been experiencing I didn’t want to cause any undue concern so early into our working relationship.” Alter spoke solemnly, a single hand raised in admittance.

  “Don’t worry about it, were I in your shoes I would probably have done the same.”

  “What do you think? Are we Kalaton’s Soul Kindlers?” Boozehound perked up.

  Oliver’s mouth opened but only to offer a set of teeth as a pre-occupied hand scratched at the bottom of his chin. “The ability to tell when an enemy is close by, strange messages and instructions appearing in the heads of your leaders but not your rank and file. A near instant, much stronger response when you entered the relevant temple. I have never heard of any powers given to the followers of the other gods. As it may have been mentioned to you before, there are no records of Kalaton picking, or even being able to pick, his chosen representatives. I’ve got no historical precedent to refer to, however…” Oliver’s monologue petered out for a moment as the chin-scratching accelerated.

  “I’d say there’s a strong chance that you could well be. Ahh, if only Lucille were here, she would know better than I. Tell me, did you visit the other temples before Kalaton’s?”

  “No.” Boozehound admitted, his body visibly tensing as his mind reached for unwanted facts

  “Then I’d suggest you do that when you can, just to confirm that you’re not getting a response from any religious site. Not that I wish to dampen your enthusiasm or pour water on the possibility of such a status.” Oliver reassured quickly as he spotted Boozehound’s distress.

  “Needless to say, Sir, it can be agreed that making this public knowledge would not be the best course of action.” Alter interjected in an effort to keep the conversation moving forward.

  “I agree wholeheartedly. To make such a claim would lead to a lot of unwanted attention in a delicate time. Our opposition would spin this as a desperate attempt to grab false religious legitimacy on my part, and would use it to further tighten the noose around our necks. This does not get out.” Oliver nodded grimly.

  “We understand.” Alter’s flat statement was accompanied by nods from the other two men.

  Oliver’s shoulders slumped slightly as he emitted something between a sigh and a chuckle. “You represent a wonderful asset, Captain, and only the Four know where I would be if you hadn’t helped us back in the Badlands. But sometimes I worry I’ve taken in something far beyond my understanding, let alone control.” A playful smile formed on his lips.

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  “Well, here’s hoping we don’t have too many more surprises for you. Worrying ones, I mean.” Alter matched his expression. “Moving swiftly on, you said you had some preliminary interrogation results for us?”

  “Ahh, right.” Oliver’s back snapped back to being rigidly upright and his face settled into that of a leader’s seriousness. “Of the four agitators you successfully identified, we’ve been able to confirm that all of them were indeed in my uncle’s indirect employ. Now, one man broke near instantly, more on what he’s been telling us later. The second is hanging tough, I doubt we’re getting anything out of him any time soon. You put some holes in the third man so we haven’t started working on him yet. The fourth man won’t shut up and is making absolutely zero sense. We’re not giving up though, false insanity is a known tactic.”

  “So, in actuality we’re only dealing with one man’s testimony, and a suspiciously instant one at that.” Riptide sounded a little incredulous.

  “Well, yes.” Oliver answered defensively. “But it is our belief that what he told us is accurate. Guilt is a powerful, controlling emotion, and one Winslow is quite adept at exploiting. Anyway, the man comes from a small impoverished village on the border between the two Masserlind controlled territories. The sort of place you never hear about but you see its name in the odd census and wonder if it truly exists. Long story short, the village falls on hard times and a group of futureless young men leave seeking a fresh beginning, ripe with resentment against the local governors. Through accident or design they meet a man who stokes that hateful fire and eventually recruits them for my uncle’s cause. They spend the next year travelling to identical fringes of society, identifying and rousing more to their cause while simultaneously further entrenching themselves in the belief that I, personally, ruined their lives.” Oliver slowly crossed to the window and glared resentfully at the world as he spoke, as if a good staredown would solve all his worldly issues.

  The members of the squad exchanged confused glances, while this was interesting enough, the information wasn’t exactly useful in their current situation. It seemed that Oliver shared this thought as a spark of realisation that he’d been rambling caused him to spin back around to face them.

  “Oh, sorry, I’m still digesting all this myself. Let’s get to more pressing matters. Our guest claims to have overheard a conversation between the more senior heads that two of the weapons crates were not staying in the city and have in fact already been smuggled back out. Their alleged destination is to the west, specifically to the border with the neighbouring Dukedom. There they will be used to equip the latest cadre of bandits and troublemakers, who will then cause merry chaos and misery along the dividing line. Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t think of this before, and now that they have I dread to consider the consequences of their success.” He paused to breathe, eyes scrunching closed before opening again.

  “This piece of information coincides wonderfully with another discovery the estate has made. A batch of old uniforms, believed to have been disassembled and sold as loose fabric, were instead taken intact and never reached the destined tailor. Their whereabouts are currently unknown, but…” He stopped again and prompted someone else to finish the sentence.

  “But it takes no great leap of logic to conclude that they may well be on their way to the same bandits as the crates.” Riptide offered conclusively.

  “Precisely. What I have told you, and the conclusions drawn forthwith, lead me to your next assignment. That is to give pursuit and prevent both the weapons and the uniforms from sparking a cross-border incident. The carriages hiding the goods will be in no great rush, so even with a few days head start you should be able to catch them on horseback.”

  Alter, who had been nodding along happily and running some internal calculations suddenly halted, a familiar pit opening in his stomach as he pondered the implication of Oliver’s final sentence. He did not know how to ride a horse. None of them did. He did not know how to take care of said horse. None of them did. Now how was he going to explain this?

  “What if I’ve never ridden a horse?” Riptide asked.

  You could hear a pin drop. You could hear a pin’s pin drop. Oliver looked like he’d been hit square in the face with an invisible frying pan chilled to a temperature somewhere between Antarctic storm and absolute zero. His jaw worked silently as he wrestled with this new revelation.

  “Do any of you know how to ride?” He asked slowly.

  “No.”

  The pin’s pin dropped another pin. However, the tendon-torturingly clenched fist hitting the table was much less subtle.

  “I.” Oliver began, faint blue light sparking in the corners of his eyes. “Am going to go and find someone to teach you how to ride a horse. You have tomorrow. You leave at dawn the next day regardless of how well it goes.” There were no further words spoken; Oliver strode from the room without a backward glance.

  “You could have worded that better.” Boozehound remarked to Riptide once a safe amount of time had passed.

  “Was it going to change the outcome?” Riptide protested, although his voice was a little shaken.

  “Well if he comes back with a sword in hand then I’m holding you out in front of me.” Alter joked limply. “Okay. One of us needs to tell the others what just happened, another needs to find Morgan and ask her if we have any clothes suitable for riding lessons.”

  “I’m already working on it!” Morgan called from the corridor.

  “Lovely.” Alter stammered after a momentary pause.

  “I’ll go inform the boys.” Riptide announced quietly and left the room.

  “There are some maps in here, right?” Boozehound hurriedly stood and moved to a cabinet filled with rolled up parchment.

  Alter moved over to join him and began leafing through the various maps and charts. In truth, his attention was already lost in tomorrow.

  His legs already hurt.