The last day of the world arrived with little warning.
A scouting report sat unread in an office. The lights were off and moonlight shined through the window.
If somebody scanned the report, he'd learn about unusually
powerful activity in the nearby demonic portal.
The owner of the office, August Martel, stumbled in and fumbled with the light switch. Two wrought iron lamps flickered to life as magic ran into the lighting elements within them.
August scanned the room for a few moments. His dark blue officer's jacket hung off his shoulders, and his shirt
buttons were undone.
Given his unkempt black hair, it seemed unlikely he was here for work.
His eyes fell on the report. He picked it up, flicked through it, then frowned.
He hesitated, going over it once more. Almost a minute passed in silence while he considered what he had read.
Then he snapped the report shut, dropped it on his desk, and turned off the lights.
The report could be dealt with in the morning. He had an alluring subordinate waiting for him in his bedroom.
Light crept into August's bedroom at dawn. He was already awake. He remained under the silk sheets of his bed as the sun's rays crept over his face.
His eyes were wide open, and he stared at the black hair of the woman sharing his bed.
A bushy black tail lay wrapped around his body as he spooned her, and her tufted black cat ears twitched every few seconds as she dreamed.
August absently rubbed her belly while they spooned. His mind was elsewhere.
He glanced at the ticking clock on the wall. The ornate golden
hands had moved by at least an hour since he last looked.
Licking his lips, August realized he needed to get up. The bed was alluring, but work needed doing.
He rolled out of bed and the woman stirred. She tossed the sheets aside as she blindly groped for him, her eyes still closed.
"August," she moaned. "Come back to bed."
"Go back to sleep, Jafeila," he said.
She opened her eyes and pouted at him. An actual pout. Her arms reached for him, palms out and inviting.
He kept his expression still, but found it difficult. She knew his weaknesses.
Every muscle in his body called him back to bed. "You know you want to," she sang. "Come on, this is the first time I've
had you to myself all week."
"Go back to sleep," he repeated. "I'll join you once I finish something I should have dealt with last night. It's probably nothing."
She blinked at him and lowered her arms. Her brow furrowed as August retreated into the adjoining bathroom.
The rhythmic pulse of hot water on August's back allowed him to focus his thoughts.
Something about that scouting report was off. He was no
stranger to stopping demonic invasions, but he couldn't put his finger on what was wrong with this report.
Little things jumped out in his mind that didn't add up.
Handling this was August's duty. He was the Bastion of the Far
Reaches, and the commander of this frontier fortress.
As Bastion, he had special magic to suppress demonic portals and destroy their armies.
And only Bastions could create Champions, who were magical warriors with the power to destroy entire armies of demons single-handedly.
August turned the shower off with the brass taps and dried himself off.
A clean and neatly pressed uniform lay in a basket near the door. He smiled at the sight.
For years he had refused to accept any servants, but somehow
his subordinates kept sneaking in and doing pointless things like this.
This morning it saved him the trouble of putting together his own uniform and appearing ragged.
Given the choice, he would have chosen to appear ragged rather than waste any more time.
Every passing minute weighed on him. The voice of experience warned August that he had made a grave mistake last night.
Jafeila stared at him when he stepped out into his bedroom in full uniform.
She was curled up around his pillow, her tail pressed against her face and ears flat against her head.
"This isn't 'probably nothing,' is it?" she asked.
August frowned. "'Probably' means that it may also be something."
"Don't play coy with me," she said.
She sat on the edge of the bed and glared at him. Her tail swished back and forth along the sheets and sometimes brushed her curvy thighs.
Her large bust bounced with her movements, drawing his eye to the three glittering amethysts inset directly into her collarbone.
Those gems marked her as one of August's most powerful Champions.
He sighed. "I need to follow-up on a scouting report I saw late last night. Something about it doesn't sit right with me."
"A scouting report?" Jafeila repeated. Her eyes narrowed. "This is about the portal, isn't it?"
"Could it be about anything else?"
"It could be a war…" she trailed off, her lips thinning.
"Against who? Falmir is the last nation left on Doumahr." August laughed bitterly. "I'm hoping it's nothing, but…"
"If you're this torn up over a scouting report, then it's not nothing," Jafeila said. She stood. "I've only been with you for a few years, but I know your reputation. Something is very wrong."
August gave a rare smile, appreciating the ego stroking.
"Give me a minute to clean up and I'll join you," she said.
He held up a hand. "No. I'll go now."
She blinked and her tail froze. It resumed its movement a moment later.
"I need you to gather Narime and Vala," he said.
A pause. "You think you'll need all three of us?" she asked, running her hand over the three gems in her collarbone.
"If it's as bad as I suspect, I'd rather be safe than sorry."
Jafeila looked away for a moment, then back. "Right. I'll clean up then get the other trigem Champions. Should I let anyone else know?"
"Not yet. Once we know more, I'll let the three of you take charge," he said.
"You work too much you know." She added as he walked to the door.
He sighed. "Someone has to."