“What is the password?” asked the shabby door of an even shabbier shack, hidden away in a small and secluded alleyway.

  Not this again, Stelie sighed while hiding under her dark cloak and hood. “All hail… The Supreme Chief Frou…” She reluctantly answered. Her cheeks blushed from uttering such an embarrassing line – if not for the hood over her head, her companions behind her would’ve been giggling away like children by now.

  Upon receiving the codeword, sounds of twisting and colliding steel locks could be heard from the other side of the door. It took about thrice as long for that rickety door to open as opposed to any regular doors.

  “We’ve been expecting ya’ return, Stelie.” Like a line straight out of a stageplay script, the rebel guarding the door greeted her – no doubt, the Chief made him recite that line. “Were you followed?” the old man named Bill Pompalum asked with a raspy voice, sticking his short neck and small yet stout body out and surveying the outside alley. Even though he was a steelborn like Stelie, he was also the lead builder and forger of the Firstkind – despite his sour temper, none could dispute his worth to the band, especially the Chief.

  “For a time. We were lucky enough to shake them off. Though I can’t say if the other groups would be so lucky.” Stelie reported before she could be allowed to step inside. The Sentinels that hounded after them were particularly persistent – yet they seemed to be more consumed with chasing rather than stopping them.

  Bill stood and pondered for a moment before stepping himself out of the entranceway. “You did well, girlie. Didn’t think ya’ have it in ya’.” The silver-haired man chuckled and scratched his scruffy white beard.

  “I tried my best,” Stelie grinned. “You’re not doing too bad yourself either. I’m rather surprised that a stubborn old coot like you would be so willing to play gatekeeper instead of coddling up in your smithy.” She jested.

  “Ya’ think I wanted to? Manpower is running scarce ‘cause of this stupid quest of Frou, so ya’ gotta’ do what ya’ gotta’ do.” Bill rolled his brown eyes. “Now come on then. The Chief is waiting for you inside.” Bill nodded his head.

  With a raise of Stelie’s hand, the few remaining rebels, who managed to evade capture alongside her, dispersed and fled from the alleyway – their mission was to escort Stelie here safely, and now that it was completed, they had another mission to accomplish.

  Bill then escorted Stelie into the hideout. It was a small and dark shack. There was barely enough room to house any people inside besides a handful of obstinate rebels who did not care for cramped spaces. Though perhaps this was how a hideout for rebels ought to resemble, instead of a big fancy keep – the Chief ought to thank her secret benefactor who lent away this hut when they next meet.

  I’d clean this place if I have some time, Stelie thought – a silly thought to have in the middle of all these headaches. It reminded Stelie of the orphanage she grew up in. For a time before its renovation, it was as cramped and dirty as this place – yet no one ever wished to part from it up until the very end.

  Bill led Stelie to a chamber at the heart of the house. The door was wide open, with firelight shining from within the room. Yet besides the sound of crackling kindling, there wasn’t much else that Stelie could hear inside the chamber.

  Bill stopped in front of the entrance. “The Chief is inside. Take ya’ time, girlie. I’m sure ya’ both have a lot to catch up to.” He smacked Stelie’s back, pushing her into the candlelit room and out of the dark. “I’d pass on the message to your men outside.” The short yet burly man smirked before waddling back to the dark corridor from whence he came.

  “Oh… Yes. Thank you.” Stelie bowed her head stumblingly. She was half a mind on calling his bluff, but she stopped herself. It was a shock to Stelie – the Chief has never been one to keep her silence very well. Stelie gently walked into the chamber. Despite how light and soft her footsteps were, the wooden floor made eery creaking noises, nonetheless.

  “Is that you, Stelie?” a velvety voice spoke out from within the chamber.

  Stelie crossed into the light wholly. She removed her dark hood, allowing her golden hair to flow freely. The interior of the room was small. Merely a set of wooden chairs, a table, and a hanging torch by the wall.

  Sitting atop one of the chairs was no other than the Chief. Even though she was indoors, she still dressed wholly in her black vest and cloak – though her gloves were removed, revealing her missing left index and middle fingers. Her long, dark hair seemed even scruffier than usual, as if she had been pulling onto them like a madwoman. Her one golden eye that wasn’t hidden away by the eyepatch was dulled and stricken with a shadowy bag.

  “Are you alright, Miss Frou? You do not look too well.” Stelie stepped closer, meaning to test her forehead’s temperature with her palm, but the Chief rejected her advance.

  “You’re doing too much here, Stel. Wanna’ embarrass me that much in front of my troops?” the Chief laughed, her demeanour acting nothing like her appearance. She tried fixing her unkempt hair with her hands, though it only made it messier.

  “What troops? Unless you mean the hound,” chuckled Stelie as she took a sit on the only other chair left in the room.

  Laying by the Chief’s feet was Scrapper, sleeping and snoring away without a care in the world. The Chief was oddly kind enough to take it upon herself to care for Evens’s dog when he is away – Stelie never expected her to have a soft spot for pets.

  Surprisingly enough, instead of ignoring Stelie’s playful remark, the Chief still spun her head and eyes all around as if she’d be able to find any of her men lurking about in this tight quarter except for Stelie and a measly mutt. “My eye is their eyes. So wherever I go, they go too.” The Chief answered smugly after her spectacular failure. Her desperateness in saving face has never waned even a bit ever since Stelie met her.

  “Of course, Miss Frou.” Stelie yielded. It was better to entertain her rather than suffer her tantrum. “You requested for my return, yes?” Stelie quickly got to the point, knowing the Chief’s habit of constantly being distracted.

  “Indeed. You didn’t leave me with many choices after that whole debacle you and Abe wreaked.” The Chief leaned back on her chair and rested her legs on the table, almost waking up the sleeping hound just from lifting her feet. “The mission was supposed to be simple and clean. I understand a feisty hound like Abe… But you? I expected you, of all people, to control your temper better, Stel.”

  “I’m sorry.” Stelie tipped her head, that was all she could do.

  The Chief merely sighed deeply upon receiving Stelie’s apology. “Your remorse would do us no good now. Better to learn from it and move on.” She dropped her legs off the table and inched her chair closer to Stelie. “So what happened? I’m all eye and ears if you’d like to pour your heart out. There wouldn’t be much chance for us to talk once the following stage begins.”

  “The Sentinels caught us by surprise. Abe stayed behind to buy us some time to escape. That was all.” Stelie drooped her head low; she could not bear to stare at the Chief’s golden eye.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The Chief’s jaws languidly unhinged, and her one eye rolled. “That right? From what I was told – you, Stel, appeared to have wanted to stay behind even more so than Abe.”

  “No such thing. I assure you.” Stelie gripped her own thighs as she denied the Chief’s accusation. What? Her sunken head was suddenly pushed upward, after that, her orange eyes were then forced to stare at the Chief before her.

  “Of all people, you should know not to lie to me, Stel.” Miss Frou retracted her hand from Stelie’s chin. “Now, be honest with me. Did my brother dearest scare your britches off?”

  “A rather quaint choice of words you have there, Miss Frou.” Stelie sighed, to which the Chief merely shrugged it off. “Your brother… He was every bit as peccable as you’ve retold…” Stelie reported, though she already more or less expected that.

  “Does that gladden you?” the Chief smirked while reaching her hand down and petting Scrapper’s dome, just gently enough not to wake him.

  “Perhaps… Now, I’d hesitate no longer.” Stelie calmed her fidgety fingers.

  Despite Stelie’s resolute declaration, the rude Chief still somehow found hilarity in it and burst into a brief fit of laughter – a rather soft one, though, crass as she may be, she did not seem to wish to disturb Scrapper’s slumber.

  Why are you laughing now? Stelie scratched her golden head. It has never been easy to rationalise the Chief’s behaviour.

  “You’re really amongst the worst when it comes to acting tough.” She wiped tears of glee off her one exposed eyelid. Stelie should’ve known that lying in front of someone like the Chief wouldn’t have worked. “You oughta’ stick to your kind and gullible nature. That suits you best.” Her laughter dwindled, and from it, came a fleeting yet gentle smile that the Chief rarely ever carried.

  Is that supposed to be a compliment? Stelie ducked her head down again, but this time was to hide her blushing cheeks. “I’m not lying though.” She pouted.

  “And for how many decades have you trusted on that truth of yours?” asked Miss Frou. “Words are easy, but we’ll see how you act when next you cross paths with him.” The Chief stared at Stelie’s intently.

  “I will take him down. For you and everyone.” Stelie answered resolutely. I have to… She thought hesitantly.

  “Not for yourself?” asked Miss Frou – her one eye of gold sparkling like a curious child.

  For myself? Stelie could not find the right words that were expected of her. Ultimately, she gave no answer for that – it did not matter.

  “I swear… My entire life, why do I keep running into prissy damsels like you? Ark sure has some wicked sense of humour,” sighed Miss Frou.

  “If you deem that to be Ark’s way of punishing you, then perhaps you should have led a better life.” Stelie jested, perhaps – an odd time to jest, she must admit. Even with her jest, she did not know for certain if it even held any truth – for she wasn’t there for the Chief’s entire long life.

  “Alright, Sister Stel. I hear ya’. I’d do my best from now on.” The Chief pretended to pray with her hands clasped together.

  Stelie smiled faintly, but even if the Chief made a joke about it – it wasn’t right for Stelie to entertain her wont any further. “Despite everything, I’m still sorry for derailing the mission.” Stelie apologised once more.

  “I said forget about it. I’m not actually mad, ya’ know. If anything, this screwup of yours would give the revolt and its actors some flare they desperately needed.” The Chief chortled. If nothing else, she has never been one to take things too seriously, even when they should be.

  Stelie winced and bit her lips. Her eyes of amber squinted as she dejectedly stared down at her feet. Being forgiven so easily after such a blunder stung more than any punishment she could’ve received – not as though Miss Frou has ever been good at giving them.

  “C’mon, enough of your pouting,” the Chief reached forward and tapped Stelie’s shoulder. From the caress, Stelie could feel the nubs of her two missing fingers – they were cleanly cut off, it’d seem. “I’m not letting you off the hook just ‘cause I want to.” She bent down and opened the table’s drawer. She then took out a satchel, puffy and seemed to be filled with some sort of soft fabric. “Your gown has arrived, My Lady.” The Chief carelessly tossed the bag to Stelie.

  Stelie caught it and carefully opened it. Inside the satchel was a set of blue uniforms and green badges – one tailored to fit Stelie and the other far too big for even three Stelies to wear. I take it the other is for Abe, Stelie closed the bag after confirming that everything was there. “It must haven’t been easy to procure these uniforms.”

  “Whatever you’re thinking right now, it’s far worse. Fetching one of these that fits the likes of Abe was about the hardest thing I’ve done.” The Chief whinged as if she was the one who picked the clothes out herself and not some poor, unpaid rebel.

  “Hopefully this works.” Stelie gulped, wrapping the satchel over her shoulder.

  “It will work, trust me. So long that ya’ stick to the plan this time around and convene with our men from the other side. What’s the worst that could happen?” the Chief claimed confidently, with her chest puffed out.

  Stelie merely sighed at such an impulsive way of thinking. The Chief could either be the most mature person in the room or the most childish – all depends on what face she fancied to carry on the day. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve ever truly spoken with you before. Stelie thought. She knew not of the worst that could happen – regardless, she’d follow through with the Chief’s plan until the very end. “In any case, I’d best be on my way then,” Stelie stood up from her seat and aimed for the door.

  “Wait just a moment,” the Chief called out, and Stelie promptly stopped in response.

  “Yes?” Stelie turned her head back.

  “Happy birthday, Stel.”

  Stelie stood still as she looked down at the Chief, still comfortably sitting on her meagre throne. Oh… Right… She mumbled faintly. “Thank you.” Stelie bowed her head. As usual, she kept her words and tone as calm as possible.

  “I bet I was the only one who remembered, huh?” the Chief goaded at such a trivial matter.

  “Abe, in fact, congratulated me as well,” Stelie revealed, to the shock of Frou.

  “Shit… Didn’t peg that brute of all people to be the considerate kind. Callen, sure… But not him.” The Chief pouted, like a kid who has just lost a footrace.

  “I didn’t expect you to remember either,” giggled Stelie – not as though it was something that was worth remembering to many others.

  “I have to… Else, she’d curse me from the grave.” Miss Frou faintly clicked her tongue.

  “Was she that nosy of a woman?” asked Stelie with a dim smile.

  “You dunno’ the first of it. Stubborn to a fault, she was. When next we meet, I’ll tell ya’ more about her. The Second Iron Rebellion was a grim period.” The Chief promised, though Stelie wasn’t expecting much. She has promised the same thing for decades now, yet all she has revealed to Stelie was knowledge that any common Xearthers would know. Even with the Second Iron Rebellion, the most she has learned about it was through what others have told her, and also from the novel, Romance of the Scarlet Land, but that romanticised retelling of the actual war, written by a subversive Harford scholar who allowed his disdain over the Centum Order to cloud his judgement, could hardly be trusted.

  “I can’t wait,” Stelie answered sarcastically as she reached back to the doorknob. “Well then, please excuse me, Miss Frou–”

  “One more thing,” the Chief shouted out.

  What now? “Yes, Miss Frou?” Stelie’s words did not match her thought.

  “It’s corny and all. But I do hope you always remember – that you’re important to us. I know I can’t speak for others’ behalf, but I’m sure the others think so as well – even the fallen.” It wouldn’t be the Chief without spouting cheesy lines.

  Stelie bowed her head firmly and stepped forward, out of the candlelit chamber and into the dark corridor. “I know.” Stelie knew, of course, she would. Constantly reminded of it throughout her days, and only known as such. Aside from the Chief, she was most certainly the most important figure in this rebellious cause – as deigned since birth. I need to meet up to their expectations for me, Stelie gripped her fists to the point of nearly puncturing her palms with her nails – yet she could hardly feel any pain for herself.

  The story has been written, and the roles have been assigned. It did not need to make sense to Stelie as long as the conclusion of the play would turn out how the Chief had scripted.

  I promise to Ark… Those very same words were uttered from her chapped and shrunken lips when the ashes spread and the walls collapsed in that narrow stone hall, not much wider than this very dark shack. She could never forget that night. Helplessly admiring the brilliant flame of that winter night while listening to the wails of pleading children. Lord Ark, bless me with benevolence to cleanse the wicked… Please, grant me strength to endure this… Stelie muttered the Second Tenet of Ark, albeit adding some of her own changes to it.

  It was strange, humorous even. The orphanage had crumbled, and her role as a nun had long ended, yet she still could not stop herself from praying and thinking of Ark. There was no point. She no longer wished to think anymore – all she needed to do was play her part dutifully in this thorny tale until the end. What I need to do… Stelie mumbled alone in the empty hallway; the darkness blinded her path. What would come after all this is over? Despite her best efforts – she could never stop overthinking.