Tia waited atop the tower, shifting her feet on the uneven stone blocks and biting her lips. It all seemed so unreal. She had spent most of her life in quaint Mooncliffe and the only conflict she had known until that point was with Mommu for delegation of duties and for second helpings of food. It was surreal to know that people would die in masses in the upcoming days or weeks. The slaves and soldiers on horseback she watched marching away to the southwest were going to die. She didn't know any of them and didn't know how to feel about them marching to their graves

It was like a dream; a horrifying one, knowing that they will be killing other humans.

Master Marduk had always been one strict with rules and persevering with punishment. In spite of his cruelty and adamance in giving rule-breakers "what is deserved", she could see the rationalisation: he was merely reinforcing the laws that were in place. If a crime was committed, one must pay the price for one's actions, whether the crime was thievery assault or skiving from duties.

Assault was always punishable in Dernexes, and yet here they were, carrying out a mass assault of their very own. It was very ironic.

Master Marduk had trained Tia to have adequate knowledge regarding politics and military strategies, so she had a small idea of what plans King Ea and the generals had in mind. The Dernexan army was greater in size and better trained and resourced than the Gwentian army, although Gwent had the greater population. Nevertheless, even that paled next to Mawlin, in the northwest.

She was also required to have sufficient knowledge regarding the neighbouring countries of Dernexes, including the now-extinguished Dormis to the south and the family history of King Lahar, the current King of Gwent and son of King Nintu II who had orchestrated the first Great War.

Poor Dormis, she thought, gazing into the distance. The despair gnawed at her every time she thought of how the lenient King Nintu I could have had a son so vicious and bloodthirsty, and from the king's historian's notes, it seemed the grandson, now King Lahar, was an exact replicate of his father, hungry for war and thirsty for blood. I am glad I would never have to live amongst those barbarians.

Beyond the fortress, there was little but derelict land and sand, littered with broken stones and wilted plantation. She couldn't see Gwent from this distance, but it sounded a derelict, deprived, ill-resourced country.

The dried riverbed alongside the fortress was empty, as usual. It was the vulnerable point to bypass the fortress, but with the high towers overlooking, it was impossible to manoeuvre without being spotted. There were more rocks along the bottom, which weren't there earlier on that day; no doubt another avalanche had occurred.

From the highest point of Ptarmigan Fortress, she could see the sloped terraces of residencies with skinny chimneys poking between the slanted roofs. The houses within the fortress were built on an inclined slope, upon the hill that made the heart of the city impossible to storm. Narrow, steep walkways weaved in and out – there were no wide streets, no area for strolling or for congregation – and the areas between various pits and fissures of the mountain were connected by swinging rope bridges. Ptarmigan Fortress was a grey city, not built for glamour or efficiency, merely for survival.

It was quiet; the majority of the slaves had been conscripted into the army and so the usual buzz of human activity had diminished. The quietness was unnerving.

Communication was frequent and Tia spent the next few days on Master Marduk's heels, scribing for him during his exchange with the other Censors and with the Consul stationed in Capital, who was speaking for Apsu, the king's main advisor. Tia couldn't help but notice, and become uneasy as a result of, how the king's advisor was making all King Ea's decisions regarding where to station the troops and the ground coverage rate as they marched.

"What if Apsu is wrong, Master?" she couldn't help but ask, after a scribing session. So many lives rest on one person's choices. If the choices were wrong, hundreds of thousands of people will die.

Master Marduk gave her a withering look. A year ago, that would have made her want to dig a hole and bury herself. Now, she stood straight, her eyes downcast. "It is not our place to question the decisions of our superiors, merely our job to carry them out."

She bit back a protest. It was obvious she was too inexperienced to tell if his tactics were good, but she knew the Windcaster would not hesitate to reprimand her harshly, perhaps even physically, if she spoke out of turn.

With a sigh, she trotted with obedience after her Master. She missed Master Anu.

That night, a summoning came from Capital.

As with the king's request, due to recent events in Gwent, an urgent meeting has been called by King Ea requesting the presence of all Windcasters and trainees in three days' time. All Casters are to attend, without fail.

Tia frowned. What inappropriate timing to call the Casters away from their posts; we are at war! she thought to herself. She didn't write what was being sung and as Master Marduk withdrew from the Wind's message, she stepped back.

"Pack our bags, Tiamat," he said, his steel-blue eyes piercing in the night. "We leave in one hour."

"Yes, Master Marduk."

They rode at the speed of light. Ptarmigan Fortress was one week's travel away, but Master Marduk liked to be efficient. He used his whip without hesitation. His carrier, a strong, sleek specimen reflective of its Master's perfection, sprinted. Tia followed, managing to keep up with a borrowed carrier with a similar physique to her Master's creature.

The night air streamed through her hair, whipping her hood back. Her carrier was swift as the Wind; its hooves thundered in tandem and she strained her eyes in the darkness, seeing only the billowing cloak of her Master in front.

Whatever the king had called council again for, it must be urgent. Nothing else would call the Windcasters away from their posts at a time when the country was at its most vulnerable. No-one in their right minds would withdraw their most powerful assets – all had been recalled except for the ones marching with the army – away from the country's borders so soon after stationing them there, and put them in the centre all together instead.

No-one except whimsical, illogical King Ea.

After arriving in Capital three nights later and being searched by the guards, Tia was overwhelmed by a sense of reminiscence and longing. The last time she had entered through these heavily fortified gates and been welcomed by the secure, white structures of Capital was when she was still Master Anu's apprentice, when she was still rather naïve, fun-loving, and cheerful.

How times had changed.

And yet guards still patrolled in pairs in the eerily quiet heart of Dernexes. Flames flickered in oil lamps hung on the walls and the smooth, white-stone ground were exactly the same. Stars blinked down at her, the shimmers bouncing off the clean windows. The soft, lush palace carpet beneath their feet was newly cleaned and fresh fruit sat in bowls down the corridor. Silver and brass décor was polished to perfection, gleaming in the candlelight.

The king's cavalier attitude to war and rationing only served to remind Tia of her disgust at the pompous, self-righteous monarch.

Her resentment deepened when the servant showed them to the king's chambers. Portly, ruddy-faced King Ea, whose body was larger than ever, could just manage to squeeze himself upon the same embroidered, decorated throne that Tia saw just over a year ago.

Lady Ishtar, the queen, looked as disinterested as ever, picking at her long, pearly nails. Her beauty had not changed, but Tia began to notice a sneer on her rosebud lips and a glaze in her sparkling eyes, as though she were miles away. She had her feet tucked beneath her shimmering silk gown and she lounged across the arms of her own smaller throne, gazing into the distance as the other Windcasters paid their respects to the king.

Tia was excited that there was a congregation; her heart fluttered like a butterfly, wondering what Master Anu would say when he saw her again after a whole year away. Would he comment on the good things he might have heard about her? Would he compliment on how she had grown? Would he still be the same lovely old man who had raised her from young?

Her eyes darted around the elaborately-decorated chamber. Several Windcasters had already arrived: she could recognise serious, level-headed Master Mami of Hume – she wondered how she had felt about Ki entering the king's Casters against her bidding; frivolous Master Enki of Kiramone, with his glistening hair and charming face – although Tia could see that he had aged quite a bit in the past year; Kingu, standing behind him, his eyes downcast; and – her heart fluttered – Master Anu.

His pale blue eyes met hers and crinkled so familiarly at the corners. His face wrinkles deepened as he smiled at her. She resisted flying across and throwing her arms around him; instead, she nodded, courteous and dignified. She made to look for Mommu but had to focus back on her Master when she caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. She bowed with Master Marduk.

As her Master was acknowledged by the monarch, Tia could see Lady Ishtar yawn, showing little pearly teeth.

She felt an urge to storm up the little marble steps and slap the silly girl-woman. It was just so disrespectful to the Windcasters who had sworn obedience to her husband and who put their lives and alliance with nature at risk for their country, for their royal family. And yet she showed not the slightest bit of interest, rolling her large eyes and picking at her dress.

Tia was feeling more empathy towards the angry, determined boy Enlil had been when they first met. This puppet of a king, who lived in lavish expense irrespective of the people and the turmoil, who cared little regarding events outside of the palace, had supreme control of the entire kingdom and all of the king's Windcasters.

He could singlehandedly order the execution of every one of the Casters, or the death of an entire city. So much responsibility rested on such a fickle man.

Beside him, dressed in a modest tunic, a mousy man snuffled. He was unfortunate-looking, with plain features, pale freckles, and overlong front teeth. He reminded Tia of a mouse. He kept fidgeting; first twiddling his fingers, then twisting his goatee, and then fiddling with his tunic. The rustle of his movements was quite distracting as each Windcaster reported the situation in their respective cities to the already-bored king.

"Desist already, Apsu; you are irritating me!" snapped King Ea at last. "Now let us depart to the dining hall; I am famished enough."

We are to eat?! Tia quickly straightened her incredulous expression, but she saw the alarmed looks on the other Windcasters' faces. Such an urgent summon was sent out at such a late hour – and the king wanted to eat first?

The advisor's pasty complexion went even whiter as he mumbled an apology, but for a fleeting moment, Tia thought she saw a flash of fire in his downcast eyes.