The council—or rather, Duke Romualdez and his loyalists—remained in the meeting hall. What had begun as a serious discussion, meant to scheme against the king and find ways to line their own pockets, had since unraveled into something far less dignified.

  The air was thick with the scent of expensive wine, goblets clinking carelessly as the once-calculated conversation descended into drunken revelry. Laughter, slurred and boisterous, echoed through the grand chamber as noblemen leaned over the table, their once-polished demeanor now undone by indulgence.

  What had started as treachery had devolved into nothing more than a gathering of inebriated opportunists. The room had been filled with drunken laughter and careless indulgence, but the moment one of the nobles brought up Prince Lane and Lina Town, the atmosphere shifted.

  Duke Romualdez’s smirk faded, his posture straightening ever so slightly. The gleam of intoxication in his eyes dulled, replaced by something far sharper—calculating, dangerous. It was as if, in an instant, the wine had lost its effect on him.

  The hall grew quiet, the laughter tapering off as the nobles noticed the sudden change in their leader’s demeanor. A few shifted uncomfortably in their seats, recognizing the expression that crossed his face—this was no longer the rambling of a drunken politician. Romualdez slowly set his goblet down, then snapped his fingers.

  From the shadows of the chamber, an attendant stepped forward—silent, unseen until now. Clad in dark, simple robes, the man bowed deeply, awaiting his master’s command.

  The Duke’s voice, now measured and composed, carried through the chamber with chilling precision. “Send word to the Red Moon Bandits,” he ordered, his fingers drumming against the table. “Find out what they’ve been up to. See if they are… open to employment.”

  The nobles exchanged glances. Even in their drunken haze, they understood what that meant. The Red Moon Bandits were notorious—mercenaries in name, but in truth, little more than brutal raiders who thrived on chaos and bloodshed.

  The attendant bowed again, then silently slipped back into the shadows, vanishing as swiftly as he had appeared. Romualdez leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he scanned the faces around him. His next words were calm, almost casual—but they carried the weight of a death sentence.

  “As for Lina Town…” he mused, rolling the words on his tongue like savoring a fine vintage. “I see no reason for them to sit comfortably while we wait for the Royal Army to return.” A sinister glint flickered in his eyes.

  “Have them harassed. Make them feel the pressure. Burn their fields, cut off their supply lines, take anything of value. If they resist?” He smirked. “Then we remind them why defying the crown… no defying this council, is a mistake.”

  The nobles murmured in approval, their drunken state doing little to curb their enthusiasm for destruction. One of them chuckled.

  “And when the army finally arrives?” The Duke let out a low, satisfied laugh, raising his goblet once more.

  “By then, Lane will have already lost everything.” With that, the revelry resumed, but now, the laughter had a darker edge to it.

  +++

  Julian sat in his office, a heavy tome resting in his hands, though he had long since stopped absorbing the words. He had picked it up in an attempt to clear his mind, but by the God-Emperor, the mere memory of that meeting made him feel as though he had aged a decade. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, consoling himself with the thought that at least he was doing his part for Lane. It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

  His gaze drifted toward the window, taking in the vast sprawl of the capital below. From his vantage point, the heart of the Kingdom of Dawn stretched outward in elegant grandeur. The royal palace stood at the city’s highest point, overlooking an intricate maze of bustling streets, towering spires, and grand estates belonging to noble families. Below, the markets teemed with life, flickering torches and streetlamps illuminating winding alleyways where merchants bartered and city folk went about their nightly affairs. Beyond the city’s towering walls, the distant shimmer of farmlands and villages lay under the embrace of the moon, a stark contrast to the wealth and excess confined within the capital's heart.

  His musings were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

  “Housekeeping,” a female voice called from the other side.

  Julian frowned slightly. Housekeeping? At this hour? He wasn’t fooled. He recognized the voice, though it was deliberately subdued.

  “Come in,” he said calmly.

  The door creaked open, and in stepped a woman dressed in a simple maid’s uniform. She moved with practiced ease, dusting the bookshelves first, her hands methodically brushing over the tomes as though she had done this countless times before. Julian watched silently as she made her way toward his desk, barely sparing him a glance as she continued her routine.

  Then, without breaking her rhythm, she spoke.

  “They’re drunk,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “All of them. Laughing, toasting, talking far too freely.”

  What else is new? Julian thought. He exhaled through his nose, unsurprised. “And?”

  She dusted the edge of his desk, lowering her gaze as if focused on her task. “The Duke… he’s making moves. He’s reaching out to the Red Moon Bandits.”

  Julian’s grip on his book tightened ever so slightly.

  “They plan to harass Lina Town,” she continued, her voice steady. “Burn fields, cut supply lines. Make life miserable for them until the Royal Army arrives.”

  A deep, tired sigh escaped the king’s lips. He shut the book with a dull thud, placing it on his desk before pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “They never learn,” he muttered.

  He glanced at the woman, his expression grim but resolved. “Send word to the ‘Doves.’ The Duke’s plans must not go unchallenged.”

  The maid gave a subtle nod before stepping back, quietly making her way toward the door. She didn’t bow, didn’t say another word—just slipped out as silently as she had entered.

  Julian remained seated, his eyes drifting back to the cityscape beyond his window. The capital looked peaceful, but beneath that serenity, forces were already at play—ones that could determine the kingdom’s future.

  And all he could do was worry for Lane.

  +++

  Mario had long since given up trying to convince Lane not to send him to the desert. He knew better. Once Lane made up his mind, there was little anyone could do to change it. Still, there was one glaring problem—one even Lane couldn’t solve easily.

  “How exactly do you plan on finding the Binatrians?” Mario asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the wooden table. “You’re asking me to track down desert nomads who live in the heart of a perpetual sandstorm. People who have made a life out of not being found.”

  Lane, ever unfazed, simply shrugged. “It won’t be easy, but it’s not impossible.”

  Mario let out a dry laugh. He threw up his hands. “Even if we did figure out where to start, what makes you think they’d even want to be found?”

  Lane tapped a finger against the map spread before them. It was a rough, incomplete depiction of the desert, mostly guesswork and scattered reports from traders who barely made it out alive.

  “We have a starting point,” Lane said, tracing a path along the map. “We’ve been to the moving city before, remember? Five years ago. With Emilia.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Mario scoffed. “Oh, I remember. I also remember that they barely let us stay there. We were only welcomed because of Sarah. Without her, we’d be just as lost as every other fool who’s wandered into that storm.”

  Lane leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Sarah’s still around. If we find them, she can help.”

  Mario shook his head. “If we find them,” he repeated, emphasizing every word. “Even you said no outsider has ever tracked them twice. They move constantly, and they don’t exactly leave breadcrumbs.”

  Lane exhaled, resting his hands behind his head. “They might not, but they do have patterns. We stayed with them for weeks—we saw how they traveled, the landmarks they used, where they avoided. They’re not as random as people think.”

  Mario narrowed his eyes. “So you’re telling me you actually paid attention back then?”

  Lane grinned. “Of course I did.”

  Mario crossed his arms. “You mean when you almost got yourself thrown out for debating their elders?”

  Lane rolled his eyes. “It was a philosophical discussion—”

  “They called it insulting their ancestors, Lane.”

  “Semantics.”

  Mario groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is insane.”

  Lane leaned forward, his tone turning more serious. “Look, I wouldn’t be sending you if I didn’t think you could pull this off. We know more about the Binatrians than almost anyone. And we’re not walking in blind.” He tapped the map again. “Follow the patterns, retrace our steps, and we will find them.”

  Mario sighed heavily. “And if we do, and they decide they don’t want to help?”

  Lane smirked. “Then you use that charm of yours to convince them.”

  Mario shot him a flat look. “If I die out there, I’m haunting you.”

  Lane chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less.”

  Mario groaned again as he pushed himself off the table. “I hate you sometimes.”

  Lane grinned. “Then I must be doing something right.”

  Just as their bickering reached its peak, a shimmering distortion rippled through the air.

  Zed’s form materialized in the room without warning.

  Both Mario and Lane jolted in surprise—Mario nearly spilling his coffee as he cursed under his breath.

  “Damn it!” Lane exhaled, steadying himself. “Are you going to do that every time we see each other?”

  Zed’s glowing eyes regarded him with unreadable amusement. “Only when we are in a private setting,” he replied, his tone as calm as ever. He made no attempt to apologize.

  Mario muttered, setting his cup down with exaggerated caution. “You’d think an advanced intelligence could learn to knock…”

  Ignoring the remark, Zed’s gaze shifted to the desk in front of them. Maps lay spread out, covered in hastily drawn circles and notes. “What are you two doing?” he asked.

  Lane crossed his arms. “Trying to find our would-be allies. Desert nomads called the Binatrians.”

  Zed gave a single nod, then walked toward the window. He stood there for a moment, silently observing the mid-morning sun spilling its golden light over the city.

  Mario leaned in toward Lane, lowering his voice. “What if we just ask General Zed?”

  Before Lane could respond, Zed—his advanced auditory sensors picking up the whisper with ease—spoke without turning.

  “Help you with what?”

  Mario froze, eyes wide. Lane smirked, shaking his head.

  Zed finally turned from the window, expression unreadable. “Explain,” he commanded.

  Lane exchanged a glance with Mario before sighing. “Well… since you’re here, I suppose there’s no harm in asking.”

  Lane folded his arms and sighed. “Alright, tell me this—how do you expect to find a moving city that’s hidden inside a perpetual sandstorm in the middle of the desert?”

  Zed’s glowing eyes flickered slightly. His curiosity was piqued. He turned from the window, his full attention now on them.

  “Elaborate,” he commanded.

  “Well,” Lane began, gesturing toward the map, “the Binatrians live inside this sprawling, enormous machine—smaller than an average city, but with a population the size of a mid-sized one. They’ve built everything inside it—marketplaces, housing, even a town center. And the whole thing moves across the desert, constantly shifting its location.”

  As Lane spoke, Zed’s gaze sharpened. He processed the description, his mind instantly analyzing the implications. A mobile city, hidden within a perpetual sandstorm? Another anomaly had just presented itself before him. Zed remained silent, but beneath his calm exterior, theories raced through his vast neural network. What kind of technology could sustain such a civilization? How had they remained undetected for so long?

  Finally, his gaze settled on Lane. “You have seen this place yourself?”

  Lane nodded. “Years ago. We were guests, thanks to our friend Sarah.” Zed’s intrigue deepened. He turned his attention back to the map. “Describe it to me in detail.”

  As Lane continued explaining, Zed remained still, but his mind was already at work. Unbeknownst to the others, he established a direct connection with one of his surveillance drones—one he had previously dispatched to scan the continent. Instantly, terabytes of high-definition images and sensor data flooded his mind. He sifted through them with inhuman speed, searching for any anomalies within the desert’s expanse.

  Zed’s eyes flickered slightly as he processed the incoming data. “I am cross-referencing the imagery taken by one of the drones with the desert’s known topography,” he said, his voice level. “If your moving city exists, my it may have already passed over it.”

  Lane’s arms folded. “And? Anything promising?”

  A few seconds passed—an eternity by Zed’s processing standards. Then, something caught his attention. His gaze sharpened.

  “I found something.”

  Mario exclaimed, “And here we were worrying for nothing!”

  His grin stretched wide, relief washing over him like a wave. Lane let out a subdued sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced at Mario. For all of Mario’s complaints and pessimism, he had to admit—it was nice seeing him this relieved.

  Zed, however, knew that raw data alone would mean little to them. They needed a visual reference. Without a word, he raised his palm, and a soft blue glow emanated from his fingertips.

  In an instant, a holographic display flickered to life, forming a three-dimensional aerial projection above his hand. The image was crisp—far sharper than anything human technology could produce. It showed a vast desert expanse, shifting dunes stretching endlessly in every direction. But at the center of the display was something unnatural.

  A massive structure, its silhouette partially obscured by swirling sand. Unlike any stationary settlement, this one moved, the displacement of sand in its wake forming unnatural patterns—clear evidence of its traversal. Though the image was taken from high altitude, they could make out sections of the city: domed structures, intricate scaffolding, and what appeared to be massive, reinforced treads buried beneath layers of windblown sand. The entire construct looked like a fusion of old-world engineering and something far more advanced.

  Mario and Lane, though initially startled by the sudden display, barely flinched this time. At this point, what else should they even be surprised about?

  Mario let out a low whistle. “Well, damn.”

  Lane’s eyes remained fixed on the projection, his expression shifting from relief to deep contemplation. “That’s it,” he murmured. “The moving city.”

  Zed tilted his head slightly, watching their reactions. “This is the most recent image captured by my surveillance drone. The structure is in motion, traveling at a steady pace, following a trajectory that suggests consistent migration patterns.”

  Lane crossed his arms. “The real question is—how do we reach them before they move out of range?”

  Zed’s luminous eyes flickered. “That is the next problem to solve.”

  Ai noticed something peculiar in the data. A pattern—subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniably unusual. Because their minds were intrinsically linked, Zed immediately registered the spike in Ai’s curiosity. Without needing to verbalize it, he prompted her with a simple question:

  Notice anything?

  Ai’s response was immediate, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. I’ve analyzed the image, particularly its shadows," she said. "At first glance, it appears like an irregular landmass—something natural. But the shadows don’t align with static terrain. They suggest something with structure, something deliberately built.

  She paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. The shape, the proportions, and the way it displaces sand beneath it... it closely resembles a battleship. Only— her voice sharpened slightly, it’s moving over land.

  I am definitely intrigued, Zed thought, his luminous eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the implications of what he and Ai had just analyzed.

  Without further explanation, he turned to Mario and Lane. “I will be accompanying Mario on his journey to locate the Binatrians.”

  Lane nearly choked on his coffee. “Wait, what?”

  Mario raised an eyebrow, studying Zed’s expression. “That’s unexpected. Not that I’m complaining, but what changed?”

  Zed remained unreadable, his posture unwavering. “This expedition has now gained strategic significance. Ensuring its success is a priority.”

  Mario crossed his arms. “Okay, now I’m suspicious.” He glanced at Lane. “Since when does he tag along just because something is ‘significant’?”

  Lane smirked. “If Mr. Zed’s coming, you’ll probably not die in the desert.”

  Mario let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose that’s a decent trade-off.”

  Meanwhile, Zed and Ai kept their curiosity to themselves. They had noted the strange structure—its unusual shape, its movement—but neither voiced their suspicions. Until they had more data, they saw no reason to speculate aloud.

  As Zed processed the information in silence, Lane hesitated for a moment before raising his hand, a bit bashful.

  "Umm… General Zed?" he asked, his usually polite tone topped with a layer of even more politeness.

  Zed turned his gaze toward him. "Yes?"

  Lane tapped his chin. "I was wondering… any chance I could get a device like the one in your fingertips? You know, something that can project images like that?"

  Zed regarded him for a moment before replying. "I had already intended to provide you with a communication device. A visual interface would be a logical addition."

  Lane perked up slightly. "So… that is a yes I assume?"

  Zed gave a slight nod. "I will speak to Tek and have something commissioned."

  “I thank you, General” Lane nodded in affirmation.

  With Lane in high spirits, Mario clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of both him and Zed.

  "Alright, Lane, I really hope you're enjoying this little burst of enthusiasm," Mario said. "Because I’m about to list everything we’re going to need for this expedition—and trust me, it’s a lot."

  "Ask away, my friend," Lane replied, flashing a bright, confident smile.