Dirakh didn't say more to that, instead he said, “I could drive, we haven't swapped in a while.” It was a good offer, an excuse to be away from view.

  But Araan shook his head, returning to his driving. “We're almost at the Citadel.” And truly they were.

  About half a micro-seikan later, the great edifice was in full view, situated in front of a three-way junction. There was evidence of battle, something the rest of the city hadn't shown.

  The Citadel was a blend of ancient architecture and modern advancement. It was part rock, part metal, reaching a height greater than any other building in the city. It was surrounded by tall, impenetrable metal walls.

  A fortified bionic mountain of sorts.

  There was a missing story of metal at the top right section of the citadel; scorch marks scarring the edges. They were too large to have been caused by cannons or anything else the guards had. It was far up, but he could see workers there; repairs were being done.

  The area around the citadel was crawling with guards moving in a tight formation. They wore the same grey armour as the guards outside, except where the chest and arm insignias were painted blue or red for tower guards, theirs was black. The areas they patrolled featured blackened soil like the ground outside the dome. The routes were blocked on either side of the convening roads, leaving the Heralder as the only vehicle close to the citadel.

  The close proximity drew the attention of the guards. About twenty-five of them approached the Heralder. Araan didn't wait like he had at the guard post outside, and reached for the panel to activate the Augmentor's speaker.

  “Welcome, Commander,” the guard leading the others said before Araan could speak. “We've been expecting you since came through the dome.”

  “Pors?” Araan asked, smiling a little as he recognized the cyperan.

  He didn't think Pors could see him from this angle, but the question had been enough.

  Pors nodded, even as guards positioned themselves behind, and on either side of the Heralder. “In the flesh, Commander. I've been assigned to escort you in.”

  Pors was someone he knew before he left. Araan served in the Fourth Sector for twenty cycles and had been away from the Thirteenth ten cycles before enlisting in the Trigad. He'd never visited once. Faces had come and gone in that time. Pors's hadn't, apparently.

  Sending him was an interesting gift.

  Araan waited to be escorted into the Citadel compound before he said anything more. A corner of the wall, at the right end of the three-way junction, receded slowly into the ground, allowing them passage.

  During that time, Dirakh looked around with deathly calm; still out of sight. There were a couple of full-body Life Armours in the armoury, including the new versions with the coat modifications that Dirakh and the others fancied so much; still, he didn't change out of his Mantle amour.

  Araan knew that until they stepped out of the Augmentor safely and no one attacked, Dirakh wouldn't ease up.

  Beyond the Citadel, to the very edge of the dome in the eastward direction, was the Lord's Quarters, a vast land with numerous buildings. The entrance was marked by a looming half circle. The bright blue metal structure was built in such a way that the missing half seemed to be buried underneath. High walls extended to the very end of the Lord's Quarters, making this the only entrance. The buildings in it were tall and modern, exclusive to the noble families and their retinues. It also contained the housing district for the Citadel guards; and for Araan, it was the location his Heralder would be stored during his visit.

  The guards escorted them there. Keeping the Augmentor couldn't have been done otherwise; not without a Mantle armour, and even if there was another Trigad soldier around with it, Araan doubted Dirakh would let him drive it.

  They moved at a slow pace, one Dirakh complained about fervently but they reached it eventually. They couldn't have driven much faster if they wanted. The roads weren't glassy here; driving faster would have them moving wildly, and they couldn't do that with guards marching on either side of them.

  They moved down the central road starting from the entrance, through one of the numerous branch roads in the northwest section called Nioa, and then they came to a stop at a guarded metal gate of a compound close to the guard's housing district.

  The gate groaned open and he drove into the compound. Small brown buildings made of carved rock lined inside to the right. They were usual rock buildings, the typical vague squarely shape with a smoothened surface. They lacked any visible doors or gates and would have been caves if it weren't for the transparent crystal shields in front of them. The shields were tough and almost unbreakable, like the Heralder's windscreen. Buildings already full or reserved had their crystal shields marked by a brown spiral symbol; the empty ones had none.

  The guards led him into the third one from the gates and he parked the Heralder, head in first.

  The Heralder's engine roared loudly against the walls of the rock building until Araan detached the vehicle's piloting extension from his Mantle Armour. The absence of the noise left the room in deafening silence. The guards were all here, and he could see a few that had followed him into the room from the corners of the windscreen. Still, no one moved, all feigning an appearance of unwavering calm.

  They were all waiting.

  The troop doors opened sideways and Araan came down first. Dirakh stayed there beside his Sand Drifter; though he was in the troop bay where everyone could see him. His helmet was still on, and his rifles still attached to him.

  The room echoed as Araan walked out of the building. His helmet was off, hanging behind his neck. Pors walked to meet him from the compound entrance and took off his own helmet when he arrived. He was just as green in skin as Araan was, but with no askora on his head. His mouth was crooked from the scar that ran across his face from the left side of his jaw to his the topmost part his nose bridge.

  Pors had aged well.

  The older cyperan held his helmet in his right hand at his side. “Transport back to the Citadel will arrive shortly, sir,” Pors said. He was staring at Araan. Araan cocked his head quizzically in response, and Pors added with a sudden smile, “Your askora, sir. It is rich.”

  “Thank you,” Araan said. It had grown to a notable length in the time they'd traveled; a lot of trimming had to be done to maintain the ones on his back. Dirakh joked about it too often. Here it was something respected. Though Pors didn't seem that much in awe. His look seemed more like an apprehension he hadn't known he had expressed.

  And it didn't look like it just was about his askora.

  “How do you find Kolvak, Commander?” Pors asked him.

  “More guards than I remember,” Araan answered.

  “You should see the Pod Wall,” Pors replied, “One hundred and fifty more guards assigned and the locals still complain it's not enough.”

  “The situation demands it, I believe,” Araan commented.

  A booming sound echoed loudly. Some guards in the Heralder's building instinctively raised their guns. Those that hadn't looked very ready to follow suit.

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

  Dirakh was standing in the building. He was chuckling slightly at the sight of the raised weapons.

  He wasn't armed. He had only jumped.

  Dirakh turned to Araan, who stared blankly at him.

  “What?” he asked as he shut the doors of the Heralder and walked out to Araan's side. “All I did was jump.”

  Araan didn't reply and Dirakh took of his helmet then. He had an irking smile of satisfaction on his face.

  “Commander Aratund,” Pors said by way of greeting. Araan noticed he wasn't smiling.

  Dirakh nodded in response. “Your guards are on edge, as though they have been in dozens of riots in the past seikan.”

  “They have been,” Pors admitted.

  “Why hasn't your council set up measures?”

  “They were also murdered in the Dark Half,” Pors replied in a tight voice. To Araan, he added, “A lot has happened, Commander.”

  Araan stared, confused. “If Commander Targund and the others are not helping Tisiryk, who is?”

  “High Commander Vinid is not in Kolvak, the family elders are ruling till he arrives.” That stunned Araan.

  There was a blaring sound coming from outside the compound. It was the vehicle they had been waiting for. Pors ordered a few guards to finish with the building housing the Heralder. The rest were to escort them back to the Citadel. With that, the Guard Captain moved on to oversee the activities.

  Araan and Dirakh walked away from the buildings, heading toward the compound exit.

  Both cyperans walked in silence until they were out of hearing range. Even then, Dirakh's voice was barely above a whisper.

  “I know cultures are different in every sector but I used to believe all heir-designates never left their sectors till their enthronement.”

  “We share that custom,” Araan replied. He knew what Dirakh's next question would be.

  He was asking the same one.

  “If the most important person isn't here yet, why are you? Why summon someone you haven't seen in so long so quickly?”

  Araan turned his head slowly, looking at the guards behind him, then at the gated entrance of the compound. “I don't know.”

  Somehow, everything that had happened since he alighted the Heralder busied him enough to forget about his eldfather's murderer. Only now, he wasn't so sure if he wanted to ask that question just yet. There were too many possibilities he hadn't fit in. Better one at a time.

  Tisiryk wasn't in Kolvak. That wasn't entirely unusual. Contrary to the norm, the heir-designate grew up in Pomia, southeast of Kolvak, many leagues away and he stayed there most of the time.

  Back when Araan lived here, Tisiryk hardly visited except for a celebration or in response to the old Lord Commander's order. But those arrivals had been timely ones from what Araan could remember, and in comparison, none mattered as much as the one at hand. If Pomia were reported to be attacked, it would have been the first thing anyone told him. It suddenly didn't matter that he was summoned first, why wasn't Tisiryk here now?

  “Who are the elders ruling instead of your cousin?” Dirakh asked, interrupting his thoughts. His tone at the word 'elder' sounded like he didn't like the idea.

  “Those would be Generals Nomik Vinid and Zamaro Vinid, High Commander Saonim Tuik and Finram Targund, the dead Councilor's son,” Pors announced as he approached them.

  Nomik and Zamaro were his great-uncles, his eldfather's brothers. Tuik was Zamaro's bond-mate. And Finram? That was the only one he didn't know personally.

  “Any problem, Commander Aratund?” Pors asked him. Once again, the odd look he had earlier was plastered on his face.

  “None,” Araan said, “Ready the transport, Pors.”

  “Yes, Commander,” Pors said, and went ahead.

  There were three white, open-top vehicles with sleek trilateral shapes lined outside the gate. Coated metal made up most of the white hull and grey seats, each vehicle resting on a wide, heavy duty tires, made from transparent crystals, that extended from the frontward apex to the very base on the opposite end. They weren't spiked, thankfully.

  There were guards in the seat closest to the apex, where the driver's control lay in. Excluding them, there were five rows of free seats increasing in width from two behind the driver to eight at the very base.

  Araan entered the second vehicle and sat in the third row; Dirakh in the fourth. Pors and the rest of the guards occupied the other vehicles behind and in front of him, moving at the leading vehicle's speed. It was a much faster one this time.

  The drive back to the citadel offered him a view of the area he didn't have in the Heralder. Even with the guards' presence in Nioa, there was an apprehensive look on the face of everyone he came across. And there weren't so many in the streets. The families were couped up in their homes by now, waiting for the Citadel's resolution.

  They soon reached the familiar main roads, marked by the jagged tracks of the Heralder's tires. The Citadel came in full view and they were in its compound soon enough.

  The subdued engine noise from a single transport vehicle easily went unnoticed. With the three he drove alongside, it became a tolerated bother. The sheer number of vehicles they found at the Citadel, however, gave off a wild, unending roar if Araan ever heard one.

  He looked toward the Citadel's outer entrance. It was still locked and guarded. The vehicles themselves were similar to the one he was in and unlike the ground workers' or any other transport outside.

  They were all nobles from the Lord's Quarters.

  “Dumod be damned,” Dirakh swore.

  “He already is,” Araan said to him, “What are they here for?”

  A shrug was Dirakh's answer.

  Araan didn't ask his driver, as he doubted he knew. He was receiving clear commands via a communicator to drive somewhere secluded while the others delayed any noble that might have seen them. It was a good plan. Araan didn't want a barrage of questions when the nobles didn't get who or what they had come for.

  They moved towards the left within the Citadel's compound until they were at half the width of the mountain's base. Araan and Dirakh got out then and the vehicle drove off in the direction they had followed.

  They didn't wait long. To their far right, a wall of metal in the Citadel slid open and more guards flowed out. Araan noted someone quite young among them who was dressed differently. He wore modern Life Armour that had a trouser and coat modification in addition to the chest armour section. His green skin was lighter than Araan's by a great margin but the armour was just the right tone of dark blue. He had long and full askora on his head with glittering metal ornamentation, most of it packed in a bunch to the back while others rested on the front panel of his cloak.

  He gave Araan an appraising look then approached with a spurious smile.

  “So this is what the great Mantle Armour looks like. I must say it is a tad underwhelming. Perhaps the effect of its famed exaggeration,” the cyperan said.

  “Is he serious?” Dirakh asked.

  “Who are you?” Araan asked, resisting a laugh.

  “You have been gone long enough that you wouldn't recognize me. I am Varau Vinid,” he said.

  “Ah, Noora's child. You have grown.”

  Varau frowned greatly at the statement. He turned around and with a dispassionate wave, he said, “Come, I'll lead you inside.”

  “Why have the nobles gathered like this?” Araan asked as he walked towards them, Dirakh beside him.

  Varau paused just by the entrance in the wall to give him a perplexed look, “How can you not know?”

  “I wouldn't ask if I did,” Araan said curtly.

  “They are here for you, Lord Redinan,” Varau said, the title spoken with spite. Araan noticed some of the guards stiffen at the act. “Your early arrival wasn't something the Citadel expected, hence the noise.”

  The added words surprised him. The Vinid summoning seal was right here in his Trouser Armour. Why would they send it if they didn't want him immediately?

  “Why?” Araan asked, but Varau was already inside.

  Araan and Dirakh followed right after. The guards bowed deeply as if it served as an apology on Varau's behalf. Araan ignored them and went in.

  He was through with the half-answers.

  Inside was a brightly lit hallway with rock walls on either side and a clean crystal floor. Varau was up ahead walking with an exaggerated swagger that would have been amusing if Araan wasn't in the mood he was in.

  “Varau,” Araan called, his voice hard.

  “I don't have—” Varau cut off when he saw Araan's face, his askoras stiffening impulsively. His eyes darted quickly from Araan to Dirakh, who only gave him a pitiful smile. “What?” Varau managed to say.

  “Why was I unexpected?” Araan asked. He didn't want to mention the seal just yet.

  “Because you haven't been here in thirty cycles,” Varau said exasperated. “The order for your summon hasn't even reached the dome walls let alone the Fourth Sector. It's what you wanted, wasn't it? Make cousin Tisiryk look incompetent and make the nobles turn to the Alpha-Redinan. Great plan. Congratulations.”

  Araan glared, and Varau hesitated for a moment then asked, “Are we done here?”

  “Leave,” Araan told him. The younger cyperan frowned at the order, but he didn't stay either.

  The hallway was clear with Varau and his guards gone. Those assigned to shut the hidden entrance were too far to hear anything.

  The guards finished up and approaching.

  “It could have been fake,” Dirakh said. He meant the seal.

  Araan shook his head in response. He had verified its authenticity before he began the journey here. No, someone from Kolvak sent this. Someone who wanted him here before Tisiryk and at the very least, wanted the people and nobles to see that as well.

  “Welcome to Kolvak, Commander Vinid,” the passing guards said, in unison.

  “We hope you enjoy it here.”