I glided through the dark streets, slipping from one shadow to the next. It was the easiest way to travel through the Triad at the moment, even if I had to climb up onto the occasional building.

Squads of legionaries and campworkers were stationed at every intersection. More teams were quickly marching down the streets, the groups interspersed with frantic messengers and wagons filled with wounded or supplies.

It was apparent that most people had seen the giant sphere of fire hovering in the sky surrounded by beastkins hours ago and were understandably scared. The panic was so thick that I could smell it in the air. Not that I needed to smell it, as the emotions pressed on my mind like a boulder, putting me on edge.

I was not alone in that fact. Everyone had a short temper as the atmosphere altered their moods, feeding upon itself and growing ever larger as people's paranoia spiked. In my relatively short journey through the Western Fort, I saw multiple people lash out at those around them for the slightest offenses and mistakes.

However, even that wasn't the most significant issue plaguing the fort. I knew what happened was caused by the beastkins, but many refused to even hear such outlandish claims.

As such, a not-so-small proportion of the legion thought it was the Imperium launching a raid on us. No one could explain why they would bother with such an unimportant location, but the belief persisted. Because of that, constant shouts filled the night, echoing off buildings, as squads of legionaries stopped any and all individuals in cloaks or those who looked like they were rushing around to search and question them. It was a time-consuming hassle that I had enough of after the third time in a few hundred feet.

Slipping past everyone so no one would stop me was easier and faster. On the other hand, if someone did manage to see and stop me as I slinked along the rooftops and through alleys, it would cause quite a problem, but it hadn't happened yet, and it wasn't looking like it was going to.

Coming to a stop, I dropped into an alley and stepped out onto the bustling street a moment later, looking at a packed courtyard around the Western Bridge. Ranks of legionaries stood in front of the gates, blocking the entrance to the bridge. Past the fortifications in the square, I could see more centuries of legionaries marching over the Western Bridge to join their compatriots already lined up in the courtyard.

Conveniently, I saw a group of seven high-ranking legionaries gathered together on my side of the square, talking and gesturing in various directions. Even as I took in the assembled men, I felt a prickle against my skin and mind, and the Prime, who had his back to me, partially turned, making eye contact with me for a moment before waving me over.

Walking across the street and into the moonlight, I managed to take in the gathering cohort without looking for the watchers who reported my presence. It didn't take me more than a moment to realize I was looking at the First Cohort of the 15th. The standards scattered around, and the Eagle of the 15th Legion gleaming even in the weak moonlight made that abundantly clear.

The few faces I could make out under their steel helmets and cheek guards were filled with indignant determination, and their eyes boiled with rage. It starkly contrasted with the demoralized fear filling the streets and the barracks I left my scout trainees in.

By the time the scout trainees and I made it across the wall on the makeshift lifts and walked through the Western Fort to the scout block, there wasn't one of my trainees walking by themselves. Everyone was leaning on someone else for support as they appeared to drunkenly stumble forward.

Even when they arrived at the barracks, with this section of the fort basically being mothballed for decades, they were forced to sleep on dust-covered bear stone bunks. Not that anyone complained, as they were just happy to have a place to collapse on in peace. But even while partaking in the silent pleasures of sleep, I could feel their despair under their mindless obedience to my commands. Their dread for what they had witnessed and what it meant.

However, the 15th's First Cohort's veterans had none of those negative emotions filling them. They weren't beaten down by exhaustion, even if I could see more than a few with suspiciously dark stains on their armor, suggesting they saw combat this night. There was resolve in their eyes and determination and confidence filling their hearts, which put some steel back into my wavering spine, making me feel ever so slightly lighter as I walked.

My footsteps picked up the pace for the last few steps to the Prime, and I snapped off a salute that no one could take issue with before falling into a ready position. "Prime, reporting a—

"Enough of that, Scout Green. We don't have time for it. What can you tell me about what happened in the Fish Camp?" The Prime said, cutting me off.

Taking a moment, I ordered my thoughts on the events before responding. "A flock of between two to three thousand bird beastkins attacked the Fish Camp at sunset. They used the setting sun as cover for their approach, and it was only by coincidence I was outside of camp at the training grounds and spotted their approach in time to give a warning. The couple minutes of warning I gave allowed the camp enough time not to be caught completely flat-footed. I Can't say exactly what happened within the first hour of the attack, as me and my trainees were trapped in a bunker, but when we came out, there was a massive ball of fire in the air with the beastkins flying around it. With the assistance of the knights, the gathered fish cohorts were able to hold off the fireball when it fell, and the knights discouraged the beastkin from staying afterward. About three thousand fish survived battle ready, with at least two thousand injured, and I don't know how many dead…" I trailed off at the end of my report, and the Prime gave me a piercing look.

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"You have something more to say. Spit it out."

"…The beastkin had functional arms like the ones I previously encountered, and they only tried to wound the fish."

Scoffs of disbelief and scorn sounded from the surrounding centurions and tribunes. But the Prime's eyes only narrowed slightly as a look of consideration appeared on his face, "Explain."

"When I first saw the birds with arms a few days ago, there were less than ten of them, so I had no way of knowing if the rest of the flock was the same. At this point, it is safe to assume that is the case, which suggests they all share something in common. More than that, the beastkins looked… more human. If that is the right way to say it. It was like I wasn't looking at animals with some human features but humans with some animal features, and because of that, I feel they are intelligent. A fact that is supported by at least one of them being able to talk. As for the wounded, only the instructors, like the centurions, commanders, and sub-tribunes, were stabbed in their chests and necks. The fish mainly had gut and leg wounds and only died due to blood loss."

A moment passed, and then the person who was stomping up behind me said in a high-pitched voice, "What good are those assumptions and questionable information? So the beastkins look a little different, and some fish have gut wounds. Really, is that what you're concerned about right now, Twiggy? Why don't you scamper off while we have a productive conversation instead of spreading these conspiracy theories and unfounded assumptions."

My back stiffened, and blood began to pump in my ears as my irritation flared. I would recognize Lukus's voice anywhere. As his clomping footsteps passed me, I felt the slightest shake of the ground. It wasn't from the weight of his steel-plated armor, though that was nothing to scoff at. The effect was due to the attributed power radiating off his body as he wrapped his energy around his form like a shawl, and that energy reacted with the earth as he passed over it. It was a flagrant and unnecessary use of power, in my opinion.

The chest plate of his armor had a diagonal streak of red with lines of brown and green running through its middle. The lines signified that Lukus was a knight of earth and wind and could control both elements like I could a mental strand of force. Or, if you are being technical, a Knight Terra and Ventus.

Try as I might, putting an elemental aspect into my power was not something I could overcome through force of will and effort. Like pretty much everything in the world, it came down to power, and I was lacking far too much to be able to even dream of becoming a knight. Doesn't mean I have to like the pricks that seem to fill their ranks. I thought to myself as I imagined tripping him.

I might have done it if the Prime wasn't a few feet away, mainly because I thought I could get away with it if he wasn't present. As I was mentally planning my revenge on the knight, a soft voice spoke, stopping Lukus in his tracks and halting my thoughts. "He brings up an important point, knight, and has the courage to speak his mind to his superiors. Such initiative should not be casually suppressed. Not to mention, any report of a scout shouldn't be taken lightly." Using all my willpower, I kept my face calm and still like I was a pond in the early morning as I mentally cackled.

Lukus stood with his mouth open, one knee bent in a half-started step. After an awkward moment, he finished his step and shuffled over to stand with the rest of the collective while I stood separately, arms to my sides at attention as I faced the Prime. No one dared to move after the voice spoke, as we could all tell it wasn't done.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a small figure appear. She was a full head shorter than those gathered but held herself with a surety and air of command that could not be denied and made her seem larger than she was. "Days ago, a subspecies of bird beastkins with working arms, where none have been seen before, was sighted and has now been confirmed. The claims of strange powers they supposedly wield can no longer be denied. Any quibbles that these beastkins are intelligent enough to use strategies and speak are well and forever put to bed after what transpired this night. The northern fort was attacked by enough wolfkins to draw our attention long enough to prevent a quick reaction to aid the Fish Camp."

The Prefect paused to take a breath, a thoughtful expression on her face as she tapped her right index finger against her chin. "Now… we find out that they are flooding our healers with wounded fish to heal. Their psy and supplies will be used to heal individuals that, in all honestly, will most likely make little to no difference in the coming battle. On the other hand, exhausting our healers will do far more for the beastkin's odds in a prolonged battle than slaughtering all of the fish outright." By now, the gathered leaders of the cohort had formed a semi-circle around the Prefect with me on the far end, a step to the side. Her cold, hard eyes slid over us before sliding over the gathered troops behind us.

"So," She said, continuing her speech, "just because you cannot see the importance of a report does not mean it isn't pertinent information and should be carefully considered. With everything that has transpired tonight, it is impossible to deny that we are facing a beastwave far more dangerous than any that lies within our recorded history. We face beastkins that can think. And I think there isn't a single better legion in the Republic than the fifteenth to stop its advance in its tracks!" She shouted her last words, causing them to ring across the square. The men of the first cohort shouted, stomped their feet, and slammed their fists into their chests in response, their approval echoing over the fort.

"Now," Her voice normal again, "Let's get down to business." Everyone gathered together to talk, and my eyes flicked to Lukus. I could not stop the slightest smile from quirking my lips at his red face. A rebuke from the second in command of the legion will do that to one with an ego like his.

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