Somebody should have told the Corrans that establishing their so-called kingdom on what amounts to a frozen tundra was a horrible, horrible mistake. Not only are they forced to outsource agricultural projects to theie peripheral cities, you know, where there's actual land capable of bearing seed, but it leaves room for insurgents to slip through the bureaucratic cracks as those in power hole up for the winter. And that's where we come in! Though neither of us are Corran-born, thank the Gods, my partner and I were still assigned the delicate task of infiltrating the highest echelons of the Corran military industrial complex. Now, how are two foreigners going to pull off espionage on that scale by themselves? Well, if it was up to me, my presence alone would dispatch of the poison that has seeped into every crevice of their society, no partner needed. However, my father had other plans. 

Swiveling in my seat, I pull back the partition that hides our cargo. The truck bed is outfitted with a makeshift roof and walls meant to protect its goods from the elements, but the reinforced tarps put up little fight against the brutal Corran climate. It was hard to hear myself think over the constant flapping that sounded like someone beating a wall with a stick. Combined with the engine's roar, I'd have better luck digging up pennies out of the mud at the bottom of the lake back home. A positive to the tarp's failure however was that it provided just enough light to read the bold lettering on the side of each crate. 

'WARNING: FRAGILE'

Heh. Fragile is one way to put it.

“NERVOUS?" Fyona yells over the noise. 

I turn back around and let go of the tarp. The older tiger in the driver seat's gloved paws grip the steering wheel tightly. Her eyes are glued to the center of the windshield, the part that's still visible through the battering of snow. Thank the Gods for modern technology. Without these windshield cleaners, we'd be rolled over in a ditch somewhere, buried in a foot of snow. 

“On the contrary," I call back, adjusting my goggles so they don't leave such ugly marks. “I'm quite excited!"

She nods. It's doubtful that tiger heard a single word of what I just said, but I'm sure she got the sentiment. I've had the same goofy grin plastered to my face for the past half hour as we've been approaching our destination. This is my big moment after all. All these years of training in secret facilities underneath the castle grounds, the hours of nonstop lessons with court tacticians, and the hopes and dreams of an entire kingdom's worth of people suffering under the claws of Corran tyranny. It was all for this moment. I slip off one of my gloves to touch the scar that travels down my shoulder blade. Feeling the groove causes my body to shiver. My father's sacrifice will not be in vain. 

“WE'RE ALMOST THERE!" Fyona yells, nodding at the windshield. 

I lean forward, resting both arms on the dashboard in order to get a better look. The heat emanating from the cleaners was able to melt the snow just enough to make out a fortress of a city in the distance. A metal behemoth surrounded the part of the capital we could see, tiny specks dotting the top of the walls. Guards, snipers, something of the sort. Inside is the same mechanical nonsense. Dark structures loom over each other like haunted scarecrows, their arms bent in the most unnatural of ways. Large machines attempt to clear the snowed-in streets, a futile task for a futile creation. I almost feel bad for them. Built to spend their fleeting days shoveling snow for an uncaring master. In a year, they'd be replaced by something newer and shinier and their precious metal bodies will be turned to scrap to feed the same depressing cycle. Why the obsession with technology and advancement? I couldn't tell you, but that's what's getting us through the door so I can't complain. 

The rough back of the seat greets me once again as I close my eyes for the rest of the trip. Fyona has the easy part; she gets to play herself. I, on the other paw, have to remember a character. Luckily, my name isn't common knowledge so that stayed, but if any part of my background were leaked, that'd be game over for the both of us. Before dawn we'd be strung up in the city square, our heads sent back to Kirid as an obvious and equally tasteless message. The Corrans really have no style.

I open my eyes again once the engine starts to putter and the truck comes to a stop. Several lights illuminate the dark room that we're in. It looks to be some sort of hangar or transitional space within the wall. A wide open and empty area for vehicles to pass through and receive inspection. The amount of nothingness is slightly offputting though. The belly of a beast would at least have acid to dissolve the contents it wishes to destroy. This one apparently left its enemies in a void, waiting for death to sooth their souls in perpituity. 

Beside me, Fyona readies our papers. Bundles of stamped scrolls, certificates, and contracts allowing passage into and temporary residency in Corra's most glorious capital are neatly stored in her bag. I roll my eyes; they're better suited as fire kindling. While we wait, I take off my goggles and store them in the glove compartment. Just in case things get dicey. Thankfully, it wasn't long until three guards walk through a camouflaged door on the left. Each of them wears a comprehensive winter uniform complete with a thick, but ergonomic coat, masks to cover their snouts, goggles for the wind, and who could forget the large Corran insignia sewn into the front? The gaudy thing makes them more visible if anything. Oh, and they all carry large ass rifles between their paws. How terrifying. 

Fyona spins the crank to roll down the window as a serval approaches her. His languish gait and sullen face tells us that he'd rather do anything else than talk to two foreigners right now. And the scowl that forces its way onto my face tells me that I'll have to give this kitty a little visit later. Ungrateful bastard. After everything Syine did for your kind, you still choose to live like barbarians. It takes quite a bit of restraint to shove the scowl back down where it came from before someone is able to see, but I manage.  Fyona hands the serval our documents and gives him a toothy grin. 

“I haven't been to Corra since before the war. That bone chill never truly leaves you, does it?" She laughs, but the guard only grunts in return. Ouch, rough crowd. While she attempts to draw the serval into a conversation, another guard circles the truck and stops at my window. The wolf has a nasty scar across her eye and an even nastier scowl than my own! As soon as she sees me, she begins to bang her paw against the window. Complying for now, I roll the crank and look up her. It's almost like she pulled down the mask to show me how angry she is.

“Are you Kiridian?" the wolf barks. Oh, what gave it away? My beautiful blue eyes, long luscious hair, or the fact that dragons are native to Kirid? Okay, we rehearsed this. Let's see if I can remember my lines this time. I try to feign as much confusion as possible before tapping Fyona on the shoulder.

“What's she saying?" I ask in Fanian, making sure I'm loud enough for the other guards to hear me. They've walked over to my side of the truck by this point to see what the commotion was all about. Fyona turns towards the wolf and laughs.

“Selban? Kiridian? No." She pats me on the head and I allow a soft smile to make its way onto my face. “He was rescued from that hellhole as an infant. This dashing fella was raised in Fania. Found him at orphanage tinkering with the toys. Taking them apart and putting them back together again, ya know? Gave him the opportunity as my apprentice shortly after. He's quite gifted." 

Of course, I'm not supposed to understand any of this so I sit there with that same stupid smile on my face, but the guard's unrelenting stare doesn't break. It doesn't look like she's buying this story and I don't blame her. I spent years in Fania perfecting my accent, but someone relegated to the position of glorified valet wouldn't know any better. It doesn't take long for her to stick her paw through the window, unlock the door, and drag me outside. I don't fight back, allowing her to throw me onto the cold pavement, my hat and hair spilling across the floor. She points the rifle in my face.

“Who are you?!"

Ah, such hatred. I know very well where that comes from. It plants its seeds when you're young. Then grows with you, contorting your mind and body with its poisoned roots. Soon enough, it takes physical form, acting without your knowledge, a complete alter ego bent on spreading its hate to obscure its own insecurities. The wolf grit her teeth so hard, they looked ready to chip. Tears well at her the base of her eyes as a finger wobbles against the trigger. You'd think I gave her that scar myself. 

We all have roles to play here and I am not about to lose my life to a deer caught in imaginary headlights. I try to imagine that same deer with an injured leg to aid in my performance. Soon, I start to sniffle, real tears run down my scales, and my body shakes. That's mostly from the cold, but it helps sell the act all the same.

“Fyona?" I cry, looking at her in desperation. “Why does she have her gun drawn?"

“Selban!" she screams. “Don't hurt him!" 

The guards start barking orders at both of us. I'm not sure what they expect me to do with a rifle pointed in my face and supposedly not understanding the language, but the hatred was acting of its own accord now. I put my hands up, trying to comply the best that I can, but the guard keeps screaming. It's so loud that I don't even notice Fyona reaching under her seat to grab the crossbow she stores there. One second later and the wolf's goggles shatter as an arrow pierces them. I don't let her retaliate. Our eyes meet for less than half a second, but that's all I need. Bingo!

The wolf happily turns around and points her rifle at the other two guards. They stare at her, probably confused, as Fyona gets out of the truck and aims her crossbow at them as well. Dusting myself off, I get up and take the time to pick up my hat and stretch as I walk over to my new best friend! It feels great being able to use my powers again. To cap off what is probably the most stressful day in these poor bastards' lives, I allow myself to speak perfect Corran.

“What I'd like you to do," I say, walking over to the wolf and placing my hand on her shoulder, “Is help us subdue your fellow guards. You're going to take off their goggles so I can help them process this traumatic moment. You wouldn't want them to suffer, would you? However, if they so much as point their guns at me or my partner here, kill them. You got that, wolfy?" 

She nods obediently and keeps the rifle trained on the two unsuspecting guards. Shooting them would be unwise, we don't want to cause a scene, but they also have to believe the threat is real. Quickly, and with shaky paws, the two of them remove their goggles themselves, making the whole ordeal very simple for everyone involved. I love it when people are cooperative~ 

They stare at me with a mixture of horror and wonder, bodies shaking from awe. They probrably think I look like Celine. Poor soul. Hunted because she was different, because she could see things others could not, because she could communicate with the divine. They called her a witch and made her life a living hell. She passed 12 years ago. Cold, alone, and afraid, her body was found deep in Corran woods as she tried to flee to Fania. There shouldn't be another Blesséd Child, but the faint glow of my cyan eyes should dispel any ideas of this being some sort of ruse. Unlike her, I refuse to be taken advantage of. No amount of punishment would suffice for what they have done to people like me, but a few exhilarating ideas come to mind. Cracking my knuckles, I let out a final chuckle before giving them my first command.