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-TWO-

The Prophet is the word. After singing his song, he returned from whence he came. Back into the kind wings, and welcome words of the Savior.

Kuno 1:16-18

"YOU DID WHAT?" Susue seemed a bit upset. I had returned to the Republic war capital, Port Lockheed after my dispatch to Squaretooth Island. It took about a week and a half by airship, a hell of a lot better than the month it would have taken at sea. But a week and a half was apparently enough time for feelings to stew.

Susue was a dragon. Not dragonkin, those were bipedal, like myself. Dragonkin looked more like big kobolds with wings, but don't say that around them unless you want a punch in the beak. Believe me.

Sueasanstosueatu was a full-blooded true dragon. When he walked on all fours, he stood nine feet tall, and that was on the small side. He was a younger dragon, by comparison anyways. Dragons don't consider their kind to be of age until they have passed their first century. Conversely, my race reaches maturity in about half the time humans do. Dragons mainly walk on four legs, but his forepaws can manipulate objects with a decent amount of dexterity. They can walk on their hinds for periods of time, and they really show off their size when they do. He stood almost eight feet tall at his shoulder, and by rough estimate, twenty some feet long from snout to butt. Add in another dozen or so feet for the tail and you'd think you have a rather big creature right? Oh hell no. Susue was young, by dragon standards. They got big. Veeeery big. I heard the dragons on the High Council were upwards of thirty feet tall.

The silver scaled male sat on his haunches, and slapped a stack of papers he held with the back of his forepaw. "Lieutenant, do you want to explain in detail what you said to these kobolds? Because your report does not match the tribute offering that they sent back with you!" He glared at me with icy blue eyes behind round, rimless spectacles. He also chose to wear a rather dapper hat, and a smart navy blue vest to accent his natural coloration.

We were in the commander's office. Jerod Hawthorne was the General in charge of the base at Lockheed, and he couldn't keep a straight face to save his life. Granted, I've pissed off Jerod on more than one occasion too, but I think he was just enjoying the fact that he wasn't the one that had to deal with the brunt of the fallout.

"Excuse me, 'tribute'? Did those kobolds sacrifice themselves to you or something?" I asked.

Susue gave me a flat look, then pushed a heavy chest toward me. "Open it."

I did. Inside, there was a heaping pile of gemstones, glittering like stars. Some wiseass kobold even enchanted the box to play a little choir noise when you opened it, so the room was treated to the tinny voice of the chest holding a high note. Susue snapped the chest closed in annoyance, and I said, "Well, it seems they put a lot of thought into it. What is so wrong about a gift?"

The dragon pushed his glasses up onto his snout, and held up the stack of papers with an annoyed chuff. "The kobolds of Squaretooth Island had enclosed a report of their own about your visit along with the treaty. Apparently, you told them quite the story."

"I just explained who you were, and what you did."

"In what language?"

"Draconic...?" I answered slowly. Damnit, I knew that dialect was going to screw me over. He gave me a flat look, staring daggers at me over his glasses. It almost looked like a pout if you asked me. "You know Susue, has anyone ever told you that you look kind of cute when you're mad?"

I had never seen a dragon blush so quickly before. While Jerod spat his coffee over his desk, the ambassador that could quite easily kill the ever-loving hell out of me began to sputter a dozen half sentences all at once. He finally took a breath, centered himself, and recovered with, "I... am not cute."

Oh, and now he was pouting. Even if he would never admit it. Pinching the bridge of his snout he had just continued on with a sigh, but now with most of the bluster out of his words. "What do you think Driekkaan means in Draconic?"

I clicked my beak, "Dragon...noble right? Big dragon something. Dragon ambassador, or what have you. Right? Partial credit?"

"This 'report' from Squaretooth. Let me just... read the last bit to you, in both languages. 'Ko'okinas na Terrasferra et vohkaal dormis Driekkaan Susue Claws, esschen'aal Lora'kh Cassidy-bird na Calimsea zacatecas.' " Funny how when the dragon speaks the dragon language, it sounds nice. Rolling and sliding from one word to the next, yet when the diplomat with the beak tries to hiss, things get lost in translation. He looks up at me expectantly. Then back to translate, "'We, the kobolds of Squaretooth Island', or, what it's called in Draconic, 'pledge fealty and faith to the dragon god Susue Claws, baptized in holy reverence by the Prophet, Cassidy-bird of the Calimsea Republic.'

Jerod only stopped laughing when Susue's glare turned to him. "I mean, technically it's mission accomplished, Susue. We told him to bring the kobolds to our side. Just let them know there was a little mixup in translation. This is political, not religious."

"Look," I said, "they can be a bit eccentric, but what's so wrong about a few kobolds fawning over you? I thought dragons loved that stuff."

Susue shook his head, annoyed. "It's a rather tedious annoyance, and I don't think I will be able to delegate a new ambassador to them with how they view me, how they were convinced to join the Republic. I am thankful that they have sent some of their own representatives in the interim. This mess is a touch delicate, but I am more upset at you selling me as something I am not."

"You know I didn't mean to, right? No offense but your language is confusing enough without a beak. That and I've been working on assignments that had me speaking Imperial rather than dragon tongue."

"I will send you a dictionary for reference," the dragon said, standing to leave.

"Well, maybe you can tutor me? Let me buy you a drink or three, as an apology..."

As Susue's blush returned, he just rustled his wings and left Jerod's office, "I'm so glad this one is your headache, Jerod. Until next time."

The General's smile faded as Susue left, "It's nice to see that from the outside perspective for a change. Unfortunately there's no time for you to be courting a dragon."

"Oh please, like that could even work. Besides, he doesn't have any interest in social activity to that caliber. Seriously commander, you believed that?"

"Then what-?"

"Catch them off guard, control the conversation, and when they leave, they forget what they wanted to say because they'd rather not deal with my ass." Jerod looked at me, mouth agape. "Do you know how many times I've done that to you? Do you remember the kegger I threw when I was promoted to Captain?" Granted, that promotion was taken back after 12 hours, but who's counting?"

"You damn pigeon. I should pluck you bare." I casually dodged the paperweight he threw. We had a good working relationship. He stood up and I followed him out of his office. "I'm attaching you to a new unit. Higher ups are experimenting with a mostly independent, unorthodox strike team that can be deployed into situations that standard tactics will not be viable."

"Interesting, what prompted this?" I asked, struggling to keep pace with Jerod's longer stride. He knew I couldn't keep pace with the man's longer legs, and only was this petty when I annoyed him. One of the benefits of being over a foot taller than me, and I think he liked the fact that I was someone he could flaunt something so trivial over. By any right minded officer I should be the poster bird for insubordination.

"We've received reports the Empire is utilizing a similar tactic. A small, highly specialized unit that can get in, get out, and accomplish a complex objective. So, congratulations I suppose. You're in Spec Ops now."

"My mother always told me I was special," I mused sarcastically.

"Shut up, Oscines."

"Love you too General."

I got the satisfaction of the last pettiness of Jerod's blush as we headed into a briefing room. Professionalism be damned.

To tell you the truth I really didn't care about military life. The job. The war. I had lost two brothers to the empire in two years. So, there was a bit of animosity when they came back to my home island, and started asking for 'volunteers' again for the war effort. Vahn wanted to be a warrior, he idolized the concept of being the fearless, strong protector. And he died like a warrior too. In battle, ambushed and overwhelmed. We were told he died a hero's death, and I still wonder what is so good about a dead hero versus a live...anyone.

My other brother, Kishen was less gung ho about fighting, but was a combat medic. The most sour part of his death wasn't the Imperial sniper that picked him off, but the fact he was trying to save an Imperial soldier while doing so. He always wanted to do the right thing, and in the end, the right thing got him killed. Saved the life of the enemy at the cost of his own.

Then it comes to me, the youngest of the Oscines' line. I wanted nothing to do with the war. I wanted to dance, to feel the boundless, infinite energy of the world around me, harness it through motion, song, and rhythm. Dancing and music is much more than an appreciation of the performing art for me. When I tap into my magic, I don't get it from endless study, or what is in my blood, or a pact with a higher being.

I feel the Weave. It moves through me, and it let me tell you, channeling magic like that makes you feel alive. The Weave is the metaphysical construct of magic itself. Its the invisible, all encompassing energy that makes it possible to throw fire, heal wounds, change shape, make a ship fly, or any other fantastical thing you can think of. It's magic. So, because I knew I had this talent, I volunteered before I was voluntold.

Apparently, the Republic had a job even for someone like me. Intelligence. Or, to be more precise, Intelligence Relief and Acquisitions. My talents fast tracked me into an officer's position, and I learned the security clearance from the position I'm in prevents me from falling below First Lieutenant. So, I push the envelope a little, I'm fully aware they need me for the job I do.

They call it the Sparrow unit. A very finite group of well trained soldiers in alternative ways of espionage. Everyone thought it was quite the chuckle when the bird joined the Sparrows, until I started getting results. I may not like the military, but I also don't do things by half measures. Mom always said that I was the only one that wasn't afraid to start flying. She always had to keep me from diving off a cliff until I was old enough.

Which is why I was all smiles and charm when I was introduced to my new unit. I was delighted to see Shamus was also in the briefing room. The elf wasn't a Sparrow, but he was in Intelligence's umbrella of soldiers. He had a good head on his shoulders, albeit a little twitchy with his trigger finger. But that's to be expected with a sniper, right?

Jerod had waved away the snap to attention everyone but the sniper held, "At ease, at ease. If everyone could find a seat, I'll begin this briefing. Torne, are you joining us?"

"Uh huh, just give me a minute," Shamus drawled as he walked to the table with a bottle of wine and half a dozen glasses. Popping the cork, he started to pour, much to Jerod's annoyance. When he saw the scowl, Shamus shrugged, "If I've got three more people to keep my sights on staying safe, I think I should get to know them a bit now, dontcha think?"

The vein in Jerod's forehead began to throb. Funny, I thought only I did that. "Back in my day, even spec ops wouldn't be this insubordinate." He grumbled as he took a wine glass.

The unit was made up of two women, one of elvish descent and one Cambian, (one who had a trace of demon lineage somewhere in their bloodline), and a scruffy looking man. I couldn't quite pick out his race, he looked too feral to be an elf, but not feline enough to be a Tabaxi. Something like a mixed race perhaps? It wasn't unheard of, of course, but it was also kind of rude to just ask someone, 'So what exactly are you?'

This was also one of the beauties of the Republic: race meant hardly anything. All walks of life were welcome in the Republic. The Ry'Meister Empire was one of racial purity. You were either an elf or a second class citizen. Humans were tolerated as not much more than trained pets, and any other race was seen as a tool at best. The Goldbeard Dwarves sell tech and supplies to both sides of the war, and the Empire only deals business with them because they have to. We deal with them because we need to.

However, we even welcomed the elves into the Republic, those that sought refuge from Imperial oppression. Though admittedly, a good amount of Republic citizens looked at elves with suspicion. Among the draconic races, and kobolds, they referred to them as 'godkillers'. The Empire and the Republic have been at war a long time, and when a race of pointy eared squishy people somehow managed to destroy over half of the dragon population a millenia ago, that memory lingers on for a while. Hence the title they were given.

Not that there were any true deities like that around, but thousands of years ago, the dragons came from the far eastern reaches of the world to the Calim Sea, and settled it. Their benevolence earned praise and worship, and the dozens of island nations swore allegiance to the dragons. Then the Empire had invaded. This was the first great war, back when the dragons numbered in the thousands in the Republic. They fought, many died. The history books would tell you that the dragons overwhelmed the Empire with their force, but in reality, the ancient imperials developed some kind of weapon that specialized in killing dragons.

The war 'ended' because the Empire had become resource starved and the Republic became tired of the losses. A tentative peace was struck, one that would last every fifty years or so. Minor skirmishes would flare up for a bit over the years, but a full blown war like this was not seen since the Dragon's War.

"Oscines! Are you paying attention?!" Jerod smacked my shoulder.

I gave a twitch, "Wha-?" Looking at the table, all eyes were on me. "Sorry darlings, was miles away in my own head. Thanks for sending the search party, what were we talking about?"

"Introductions to your new unit..." Jerod groaned, then turned toward the elvish woman. "I'm apologizing in advance for his lack of discipline. Sparrows are less regulated than most other troops, and this bird brain has flown with that a bit."

"I take offense to that remark, Jerod," I said coyly. He rolled his eyes.

The elvish woman cleared her throat, and put her hands on her hips, "General, that should not be a problem. My second in command will learn obedience even if it kills him. I am Captain Pandora, you will address me as such. Clear? Good."

"Oh boy, one of these units," Shamus muttered, lighting a cigarette.

A thin, icy white line of magic shot from one of Pandora's fingertips, and frosted over the match Shamus was holding to his cigarette, "I don't tolerate smoking in my presence."

Shamus pouted, but kept the unlit smoke in his mouth as she continued. Pandora motioned to the other male in the group, "This is Corporal Maekath, our tracker, navigator, and survival expert."

Maekath gave an aloof one handed wave as he sniffed the wine in front of him, but didn't drink it. "Hello," he gave a dreamy, floaty greeting.

Pandora shifted to the Cambian woman, "Sergeant Vivian DeCantes. Heavy weapons." Vivian just gave a curt nod, and the massive blade strapped to her back had been the dead giveaway for her role. Sometimes in war it's about who has the biggest stick.

"Which makes you, Specialist Torne, my recon expert."

Shamus scoffed, "Just call me Shamus, and we'll be fine. Damn, I need a smoke..."

"On your own time," then she turned to me. "And you, Lieutenant, I had never seen a personnel file so thick before. How is it that you have so many infractions, and you're not in the stockades?"

I smiled, sipping my wine, "Because cleanup isn't part of my job description. When I'm given a task, it's usually filed under 'by any means necessary', and I don't have time to make the cleanest getaway. Or perhaps that deep down, Jerod just can't bring himself to really give me more than a rap on the knuckles. I do get results after all, darling."

"Well, I'll tell you that is going to change. I like my assignments tied up in a neat little bow."

"I'm sure you would like it tied up," I muttered under my breath, sending a subtle spark of magic to whisper that to Shamus on the other side of the room. While Shamus snickered, Pandora glowered down at me

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

"Oh nothing, nothing, just saying I'll be happy to rise to the challenge and all that. Good bird, promise!" I rose a talon in salute, and then Jerod chimed in again.

"So, now that you have your unit fully staffed, Captain, I have your orders. This is an objective straight from the Red Baron."

A silence filled the room, the Baron was the oldest, meanest, biggest, most ruthless dragon in the Republic. He also was the strongest single creature in the military, capable of leveling buildings with a swipe of his massive tail, or burning a ship to cinders on a single flyby. Plus, the red dragon was a member of the governing High Council. The Blood Red Baron was a serious customer, and one even I would think twice about pissing off.

Jerod set a sealed envelope on the table, and slid it to Pandora. "This is need to know. And even I don't need to know. The only thing I'm told is you're going to Coral Bay on the Baron's orders. Details are in here, I don't want to see you again until you finish his little adventure. Full report to him directly, then come see me when you return for some normalcy. He's also included some requisition forms, so outfit yourselves before you go. Oscines, Torne, behave yourselves and welcome to... what was your unit called again, Captain?"

"Pandoramonium," she said with a smirk. He returned a smile, and then excused himself. When Jerod left, the Captain opened the orders, and read over them while the rest of us sat in an awkward silence. I hated it. When it gets quiet I get fidgety. She glared over the papers a few times, and I sighed, staring at anything to keep my attention. "You seem to have a problem with discipline, Lieutenant."

"My safe word is avocado."

"What did you say?"

"I said 'pass me that wine bottle, Shamus.'" I reached out and made grabby talon motions.

He slid it over, "it's empty, you know."

I nodded, watching from the corner of my eye how Pandora reacted. She didn't have a vein like Jerod, but the woman knew how to wield a stony glare. I looked at her sheepishly and said, "An empty bottle has so many different uses. It's a valuable tool that can save your life in a dozen different ways." Then I slipped it into a small canvas sack, and promptly broke it.

The incredulous looks were something I was used to, but I ignored them. I spent the remainder of the briefing crunching the shards of glass, until I had a bag full of pieces like gravel, while Pandora outlined our project. "The Baron has tasked us with traveling to Coral Bay and locating an object for retrieval, by any means necessary. He simply refers to it as a 'purple pearl', and that it is held by the merfolk of the island. They are not allied with the Empire, but I know they have not given the Republic the warmest of attitudes either. Vivian, take Maekath down to the armory and get us kitted out."

"Actually, erm, Captain," Shamus said, "I'd need to head that way myself."

She hardly glanced over at him before nodding, "Go." When I tried to stand, she shook her head, "I didn't dismiss you."

Well, I suppose an ass chewing is inevitable with a new Commanding Officer. Every CO likes to take a bite after getting a bit of my personality. No clue why, when I was a kid, I never got a 'does not play well with others' remark from our elders. Strange.

Shamus closed the door, leaving the two of us alone. I leaned back in my chair, and put my hindpaws on the table. Folding my talons, I waited. There was no sense in speaking first.

"Lieutenant," Pandora growled.

"You can call me Cassidy, you know. It doesn't hurt to be a little informal once in a while."

"Do you know I can throw the book at you? You can't be this dense. With the insubordination I've seen in fifteen minutes it's a wonder you're not in prison, let alone acting as an officer. I don't know why the General lets you speak with him that way but I won't have it. Explain yourself. And get your damn feet off the table!"

I sighed. Another by-the-book type. Against her glares and sour looks, I got up to fetch another bottle of wine, and two more glasses. "Do you know what I do, Captain?"

"You're in the Sparrow unit."

"Okay, you've read my file. But what does a Sparrow do?" I asked, passing her a glass.

She paused for a moment, and thought. "Only that it's an intelligence unit. It's not my area."

"What is?"

"Arcane Artillerist."

I nodded, "So, you're good at blasting things with magic. Tear apart the enemies head on, and all that." I sipped my own wine. "A Sparrow is deep cover. I am used to working mostly alone. Shamus has been with me as backup for about three months, but he's support. He's there so I don't have to watch over my back wing deep in enemy territory. Not a Sparrow. If I act like a soldier, I'm dead."

"How so?"

"Skies above, it's becuase I'm placed in areas you aren't supposed to send soldiers." Honestly, this was Jerod's fault. He should have briefed her on me. Petty bastard. "My last assignment I was sent to Squaretooth for diplomatic negotiations. Honestly, it was the most straightforward assignment I've had. Last one? I went to the Goldbeard Kingdom, and convinced them to divert more of their exports to our side."

The Goldbeard Kingdom was a strong, old, and very wealthy nation of dwarves. If anyone is profiting off of the war between the Empire and the Republic, it's them. They sell raw materials to both sides, lease tech, and provide many of the things one needs to wage a war, save for the people. Those are all home grown. But the dwarves have no problem making money off of both the Empire and ourselves.

Pandora took another drink, and I refilled her glass. "How did you manage to do that?"

I smiled, "I asked nicely." She didn't buy it. "How do you win a fight? You, personally?"

"By fighting, of course. Being better than the enemy, overwhelming them. Stronger, faster."

"Through violence, you mean."

"It's war. Violence happens."

"What if you can get what you want without having to kill? Suppose, there was a way for a bird like me to flit into someone's life, maybe sing a song, or entice this...certain someone, to sing a song of their own? Say a few sweet words, warm a bed, and be gone before sunrise with intel that could have taken weeks to obtain." She still didn't seem to be getting it, which was to be expected. Sparrows we're very few, and the less we spoke on the details of our job the better. But Sparrows also needed to work with other units, so these things happen more often than we'd like.

I refilled my own glass with a sigh, slipping the cork back in. "Let's say I can say or do something, than can convince a target to relinquish what I want. Information, supplies, et cetera. Following?" She nodded, and I put a cigarette in my beak, then took it out again. Right, that was one of her buttons. I sighed and put the pack away. "Now, what's to say I'm someone who will say or do something that, hypothetically, is frowned upon. Or do I use alternative methods to get what I want? Do you realize how many secrets are spilled when one has a pillow under their head, and they have been wined, dined, and well... you get the picture now. Or perhaps a little magic push in the right way, a nudge here, a tweak there, and I have a brand new friend, at least, long enough for my purposes. Honestly, I'm kind of a bad friend. It's not like I'd help them move, once I get what I want, I don't need to be as charming, and I'm usually long gone. That's a Sparrow."

Pandora looked at me for a long moment. Her delicate fingers drummed the stem of her wine glass as she slowly took a contemplative drink. I felt my hackles rise in the silence, and shifted uncomfortably. "War is war, Lieutenant. There are many facets to the nature of this beast. It's own special brand of hell." It was her turn to rise, and she started to clear the table. As she moved back and forth in the small room, she gave each glass a quick cleansing cantrip before setting them back on the bar. "I can't have you be openly disrespectful to my position, or to the image of the Calimsea Republic we represent. But, I may concede a bit of... leeway to these unorthodox circumstances. When I read your file, I paid more attention to your reports than the disciplinary notes. You are one of extreme extenuating circumstances, and I must admit, this unit is strange enough to fall under that already. There's a great officer inside you, I see that. It takes a great officer to toe the line without stepping over so delicately. And I would be a very poor leader if I didn't take all aspects of my unit into account while I'm entrusted to guide them."

She finished the table, picked up the Baron's orders, and offered her hand to me. I took it in my talon, rose, and shook. "We have a pearl to get, Cassidy. Shall we be going?"

Maybe Pandora wasn't so by-the-book after all.