Summary: The Abaharaki intercept a Black Dragon Clan message.
Pulling a curtain of heavy fabric aside, Celena entered the tent where the group of rebels she and her brother had recently joined had gathered. Allen and the Abaharaki were planning their strategy. No one noticed her arrival, though, as Reeden chose that exact moment to slap his hand on his knee.
"Damn it!" he cried.
Night was already falling. They had spent the day gathered around a table, trying to decipher a mysterious letter that they had intercepted from a Black Dragon Clan courier. Presumably, it contained details of Folken's next attack, but it was written in a strange code that none of them could decipher.
Gaddes was off to the side, sipping vino. Ort and Katz were elbow deep in Millerna's book collection, looking for some clue that might help crack the message. Millerna herself was in her private tent with Pyle, searching the rest of her books. Kio was preparing dinner and staying out of the way as much as possible. Like him, many of his companions wished that they had listened more closely to their elders' lessons and taken the time to learn how to read. Allen, sat next to Reeden, took his turn examining the letter.
Kio covered the pot where the stew was cooking and moved closer to pass Reeden a glass of vino.
"It's all right, Reeden. We'll figure it out," he said, patting the other's shoulder.
"Sorry, guys, I really thought I had it," Reeden said. "The characters looked just like the ones we use in Arzaean but when you put them all together they don't make any sense. Like, this here says 'the sun and moon breaks three sands'? And that's already if you stretch the meaning."
The group had hoped that they had finally gained access to Folken's secrets when Reeden had jumped up from his doze in the corner with a triumphant "Hey, that means 'horse'!" Now, three hours later, they were doing what they could to keep Reeden from seeing how deep their disappointment ran.
The Abaharaki had been experiencing a streak of back luck, with defeat after defeat. Retrieving this letter was the first victory that they had been able to claim in months.
Allen leant over the letter, comparing it side to side with Reeden's translation.
"It is odd," he said. "Are you sure you got this right, Reeden? Could the words have a second meaning to them?"
"Nah, Boss," Reeden said before gulping down his vino in a single shot. The nickname slipped easily from his lips. It was becoming truer every day. "I mean, the words aren't exactly the same as you'd write them in Arzaean, but then again I learnt them from my Pa's pottery. He used to paint them on jars and things, but change them a little to make them prettier."
Allen read the nonsensical text that Reeden had come up with and leaned back against his chair. Trying to make sense of it was making his head hurt.
"Any other ideas, anyone? Gaddes?" Allen asked.
His friend answered by grimacing and shrugging. Then he glanced jealously at Reeden, who was having his vino cup refilled by Kio. His own mug was drained.
"Ort? Katz?" were next on Allen's roll call.
The pair put up their empty hands. Nothing in Millerna's books came close to matching the strange writing of the letter.
The tent flap opened again to admit Millerna and Pyle. All heads turned towards the newcomers this time. Their walk was brisk and they were carrying a sheaf of papers that stirred the group's hopes.
"Give it here," Millerna told Allen.
She hastened through the notes she had taken, sheet after sheet. After comparing them with the Black Dragon's missive up close, however, her shoulders slumped. She unknowingly copied Reeden.
"Damn it."
There was a collective sigh from the group. There went the last of their hopes.
Allen stood and offered Millerna his chair.
"It's all right, Princess." Addressing the rest of the room, he added, "This is not our loss. Folken's messenger failed to deliver this message, so one of his Captains will not be receiving his orders. Even if we don't know what it says, our actions have already disrupted the Black Dragon's plans. This is a victory for our cause!"
The cheers that answered him were not as enthusiastic as he had hoped.
"Gaddes, do we still have those barrels of ale that we got from Sasu?"
"Sure do, Boss. If Pyle managed to keep to himself, that is," Gaddes replied, raising his empty mug to salute what he saw as a fine idea in the making.
"Oi!" Pyle complained. He soon forgot to be offended in favour of laughing along his friends though. "I can't say it wasn't tempting!"
"And, Kio, how's that stew?" Allen asked next.
"Thanks to Ort's fine hunting, we have enough for everyone and then some. The meat is real tender, too."
"Then let's celebrate to our success! The Black Dragon has tried to crush us under its heel. Today we showed them that we can push back and we will continue to do so for as long as it takes until Folken is defeated. To freedom!"
This time the answer suited Allen's fervour. A dappled chorus of "hear hear"s rose from various corners, mixed with the ruckus of an excited crowd vacating the tent. Celena, still standing close to the entrance, moved to let them through. A smile bloomed in her face in response to the grins and cheers of the Abaharaki as they noticed her.
Allen was one of the last. He kissed her cheek in greeting.
"Coming, Celena?"
She nodded. "In a moment."
Gaddes interrupted whatever reply Allen might have made, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pushing him towards the exit after the others.
"Don't take too long, Celena, or there won't be anything left by the time you get there!"
Celena's smile grew as she watched them go. Gaddes was always one of the kindest to her. Only Kio and Katz stayed behind, ladling stew into bowls and grabbing enough cups for everyone from the wooden chest where the supplies were stored. The tent could not be called silent, but after the commotion it felt that way to Celena.
Her smile faded.
No one had thought to ask her to look at the message.
Why had Allen not done so? She tried not to read anything into it, but as soon as Reeden had mentioned Arzaean script, Allen should have asked her. Reeden's homeland was close to the location of the ancient Atlantean territories. Their culture had inherited much from that ancient civilization, their writing system included. And Celena had studied not only Arzaean under her father's tutelage, but the original Atlantean which was in its origin.
She wandered over to the crate that had served as a makeshift table and knew exactly what laid before her the moment that her eyes landed on the Black Dragon's orders. How very little surprising, she thought, that someone as arrogant as Folken would appropriate Atlantean culture for himself and use it plainly, as though its understanding were beyond the reach of any other individual.
She grabbed a pen and flipped the paper containing Reeden's translation.
"The Wing Goddess is coming. Prepare for her arrival. Search the desert, night and day. Your priority is to find the armour."
After writing it down, Celena stood for a moment, contemplating its meaning.
"Wing Goddess..." she muttered to herself. Something about the name tickled an old memory, tucked away in the back of her mind. Perhaps Allen would know what it meant.