Nicia was a state that sat right in the middle of the southern boundary of East and North.

It was originally independent on the account that it was in both nations' territories and splitting it was not a viable option. But because of it's status as an important location, and as a result of the many traders, entrepreneurs and businesses that preferred to sell goods there for it's reasonable prices and fair exchange rates, Nicia was soon absorbed into North's border.

Ignoring it's booming industry, the state was also a potential spot for military development. If Nicia was lost it would be a larger blow to North than it could ever be for East.

There were only so many entry points and exits along the walls of shielding that had sealed the four nations off from each other. And Nicia, being one of them, was especially valued because of the top ranked research center that made the enormous cluster of little towns it's home.

The flourishing state had always been bustling with people, which was only natural seeing it was also a secondary transaction hub for the north.

But today, that no longer seemed to be the case.

"Completely wiped out?" Corey asked for the fourth time that day, rereading the paper report in his hand.

It had been three days since the initial report on the attack of the border state but the words still sounded unbelievable. Despite having expected it, a part of him still doubted the authenticity of the report.

Nicia was the state he had fought tooth and nail with East's minister for. But more importantly, Nicia housed a majority of North's researchers and was the one place Elton called home.

Elton. . .

"Yes," The messenger who stood in the center of the office nodded slowly, his dark green uniform crinkling as he finished reading out the text from the document he held in his hands.

"Word was sent from the East, their border towns have also been decimated by unexplainable attacks. We have yet to receive feedback from our sources in the West and South " the young man ended hurriedly, keeping the almost transparent document back in it's place with the other rolls of thin paper that filled the satchel that hung off his belt.

"Send for—" As Corey opened his mouth to give the order, a series of rhythmic knocks landed on the double doors that shut his office.

A sigh left his still parted lips. He drew his hand across his face, his exhaustion painfully obvious.

"Yes?" He nearly groaned in exasperation, shaking his head at the thought of having to deal with the complaints of greedy nobles at a time like this. "What now?"

The messenger looked at his irritated leader in awkward silence, not knowing whether to continue his report or retreat out of the room—away from the moody minister.

He took half a step back, prepared to leave at a moment's notice.

Rumors had it that the Northern minister's temper could burn even the skies when his mask of calm finally shattered. And as a newly instated messenger, Philip didn't want to get into the bad books of the most powerful man in the north.

This was his last work hour for the week, and the second he was dismissed he planned to head to the nearest tower for today's mandatory sermon, then rush home for a well-deserved twenty four hour rest.

Now though, Philip figured that he might as well use the opportunity to pay obeisance to the Code for sparing his job today. Or else he would have been the thirteenth messenger this week to be sacrificed in order to sate the minister's fury. . .

"Come in!" Corey announced eventually to whoever waited behind the doors, his voice calm and emotionless.

He beckoned Philip closer to him.

"Give me the documents, I will read them myself." He rubbed on his temple with two fingers, trying to burn away his headache as he spoke to the younger man.

Philip resisted showing a relieved smile and stayed stoic, inwardly screaming in glee as he handed over the pouch filled with official papers.

"Thank you, Sir." He gave the minister a hurried but proper salute and took a step back. He was about to turn away when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Philip jumped at the unexpected contact and looked back to see the minister staring at him intently.

"What is your name, boy?" Corey asked as the doors were pushed open. He wore a relaxed smile and released his hold on the obviously frightened messenger.

"I only want to know, you did nothing wrong," he said slowly, as though that would make the experience less terrifying.

"Philip. . ." the messenger replied as quietly as he could, his gaze shifting to the now open door. "Philip Tyndale, Sir."

"I see," the minister sighed, as though he was reminiscing about old times. "And how old are you?"

Philip pulled at his tight collar then pushed the strands of blonde hair that escaped the hold of his bronze beret behind his ear. "Eighteen, Sir."

"Tell me, how is Old Tyndale doing?" Corey asked curiously.

The minister found himself wondering how this promising young man from one of the noble families ended up a mere messenger. But he also knew he was too busy to investigate the situation, despite his interest.

Philip's eyes snapped away from the doorway in shock, his gaze falling on Corey. "You knew my grandfather?"

"Yes," the minister sighed once again, his tone filled with a wistfulness no one else could possibly hope to understand. "I suppose I did."

"And look who finally decided to show, as though she read my mind!" Corey said with an overly enthusiastic voice and walked towards the person who had knocked.

He moved briskly, effectively ending his conversation with Philip and leaving the young man with no answer to his question other than the vague reply he had received.

"The beautiful professor whose mind none can fatho—" The minister started.

"Everyone is complex in the most uncomplex ways, is what I always say," the lady that leaned against the door's frame sighed, cutting the minister off as she knocked a pencil against her teeth.

The whole scene struck Philip as odd but still, he watched as she scrolled through a SCREENE with one hand, and combed through her nest of dark hair with the other.

"But I would prefer if you kept all that uncomplexity to yourself," the woman said.

"And you have sharpened your tongue some more since the last time I saw you." Corey's smile froze as his gaze shifted to Philip standing behind him. "At least treat me with some respect in front of my subordinates."

"Hello Philip, if that is indeed your real name." The woman folded the translucent, notebook-sized device she had been reading and raised a brow at the quiet boy.

She saw him wince under her unrelenting gaze and that alone made the smile on her face grow.

Pleased, she stared at him a moment more, her lab coat swishing about exaggeratedly when she turned fiercely to Corey.

"Wow Roya, the build of your underlings never ceases to amaze me." She shook her head in amazement and scanned Philip once again with her dark hazel eyes.

"I want this one, the others are no good." The lady shivered, disgruntled by the thought of the men she had been forced to train.

Working late again? Corey frowned deeply at the thought. His blue eyes dimmed slightly as his gaze fell on her dishevelled head of dark hair and the rumpled clothes that hung limply off her body.

The dark bags under her eyes were not hidden from his sight either. "None of my soldiers qualified? Are you sure?" he asked, only because he needed to keep up appearances.

The SCREENE in her hand was folded another turn and the pencil placed behind her ear.

She turned to him, her expression flippant as she nibbled on her lower lip and pouted. "As certain as the sun, Re-re."

"Dawn, this is not a joke." Corey said and took a step towards the professor. The air around him was heavy and laced with an aura of command as he spoke but deep down he was more worried for her than for himself. "Do you know what this means for the north?"

"That your soldiers are all undoubtedly loyal but have no brains?" she supplied teasingly, unafraid of his authoritative display as she patted his cheek and turned back to the the silent messenger. "Not to mention that you scare your own men lawless."

"The Cipher Squad will fall apart at this rate, aren't you the least bit concerned?" He grabbed her by the shoulders, completely overlooking the fact that Philip was still in the room waiting to be dismissed.

"You are the third most powerful person in North, act like it for once." he said, a sort of gravity to his words.

"Acting all tough is boring," Dawn lowered her voice and whispered her words by his ear, shrugging off his hands. "I would rather have my squad fall apart than consciously admit illiterates into it's system."

Our squad, Corey corrected glumly. Out loud he said, "those men are geniuses of their time, the only place they would ever fail would be at your unreasonable screening test!"

"Then they simply aren't good enough." Dawn scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I even lowered the difficulty on account that you recommended them."

"You," Corey turned away from her once he realized that he had lost his temper. His shoulders shook as he fought to restrain himself.

Keep calm. He took in a deep breath. "Why do you aggravate me so much?"

Dawn grinned wickedly and licked her lips slowly.

"It's my hobby!" she declared. "Your men are used to taking orders. They are intelligent, yes, but they lack the imagination that comes with insubordination."

You and your quotes. The minster ran his fingers through his jetblack hair.

"Has any progress been made in discovering the source of the fog?" His voice had lost its anger and had instead turned weary. He finally asked the question that had been on his mind ever since he had come to terms with Elton's possible death.

"No," Dawn shook her head, her tone filled with disappointment, "none at all. But we haven't been doing nothing with these three months. And now that Nicia has been attacked this is the perfect time to run a field test for the new equipment I designed."

Corey narrowed his eyes at her and Philip drew in a sharp breath behind him.

"How do you know about Nicia?" he asked with a hint of despondence.

At this rate the news would spread faster than wildfire. It was only now that Corey remembered the other messengers that had been in his office when news of the garrison's fall had reached him. I should have ordered them to silence.

Dawn scoffed. "The scouts are under my command, remember? I tell them what to tell you."

"Shouldn't the minister be the first to receive all urgent news?" Philip asked quietly, his eyes still fixed to the floor as he talked. Inwardly, he cursed himself for speaking when he hadn't been spoken to but it had already been done.

"If the loss of a domestic drone can be considered a crisis then he can have it all." Dawn threw her hands up into the air, her words dripping with exasperation. "A job of mine is to separate significant news from the nonsense, and so naturally I am the first to know everything."

"It's okay," Corey sighed, his voice tranquil as he attempted to placate his best friend. "We are all stressed right now."

"Damn right we are." She huffed and crossed her arms. "This fog alone is enough to make everybody tense. . . then this attack."

Dawn groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. "At zero visibility all my darlings are almost worthless."

"Then how do we send soldiers to Nicia?" The minister felt another headache coming along as he walked back to his desk and sat down. "Telecrafts and shuttles can't navigate in this fog, and without being able to locate a destination, teleportation pads have been rendered useless . ."

"I don't know what to do anymore, Dawn."

"I think you're forgetting something though," she hummed and shook her head, her expression in between that of incredulity and bumbling excitement as she continued. "How do you think we got news of Nicia's destruction even though all communication centres in the state were disabled?"

Corey raised his head and looked at her carefully, aware of how cryptic his friend could be at times. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"What else can I be saying?" Dawn asked back, practically shoving her SCREENE in his face. "Our latest operation was successful, we finally have a way for our soldiers to see through the fog."

"And move through it?" The minister asked, his interest peaked.

"We use horses," she answered immediately. "For some reason animals can breath in the fog and have perfect vision in it as well."

At her reply Corey nearly hit himself, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as he rested his head on his palm. "And just like that we are back to the medieval ages."

"You know what they say about the past," Dawn said in a sagely tone, draping an arm around Philip's shoulders in excitement. "You might forget about it, but one day you will become it's very definition."