“Hey, Julius.”

Julius, a member of an old Roman family, was sitting on a rock in the middle of a field, with the tip of his sword stuck in the dirt, and he was spinning it around like a top. He stopped and looked up at a thin, lanky Goth.

“What, Xidar?”

“I’m nervous.”

Julius smiled.

“You’re nervous? You’re nervous! It wouldn’t have anything to do with six very angry and vengeful lords that are headed our way?” Julius pointed toward the tree line. “Any minute now they’re gonna pop out from the trees…is that why?”

Xidar nodded. “Yes, because of that.”

Julius looked back down at the ground and continued spinning his sword like a top.

“Well, I’m nervous too.”

“Hey, Julius.”

He looked up, to his left, and saw a pudgy Greek mercenary.

“What, Xenophilus?”

“I heard they torture their prisoners to death.”

Julius gave him a dirty look.

“They don’t do that. Actually, they treat their prisoners pretty well.”

Julius looked back down at the ground and spun his sword around.

“Hey, Julius.”

He looked behind himself and saw a young, very short, Italian private.

“What, Aurelius?”

“I heard that some of them are cannibals.”

Julius laughed. “They aren’t cannibals. With as well as the Lords feed them, they don’t need to eat people.” Then he stood up and poked Aurelius in the stomach. “As little as you are, you wouldn’t even make an appetizer.”

“Shut up, Julius!” Aurelius sneered. Then he stomped off.

Xidar looked at Julius.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Of course not!”

Xidar pulled a small flagon out of his belt. He handed it to Julius.

“Well, you better start!”

Both men burst out laughing. Julius grabbed the flagon and took a swig.

“Hey! This is the best cherry brandy I’ve ever tasted. Where’d you get it?”

Xidar sat down on a rock.

“That’s a secret.”

“What do you mean…it’s a secret?”

Xidar took the flagon back.

“It’s prohibited.”

Julius smiled. “I know that. I asked where you got it from, not its legal status.”

“Well…I get some sometimes from my cousin in the north.”

“You’re cousin’s a farmer?”

Xidar nodded. “He sure is. He has a huge cherry orchard.”

“Is he a smuggler?”

“No! Of course not! He just sends me some brandy now and then.”

“If your cousin’s a farmer…why aren’t you? You’d be living high on the hog.”

“Well, you see, father and uncle were farmhands in the north when we were young. And we helped them. It was really hard work, and we didn’t get much for it. So, father and uncle came south to join the Home Guard.”

“Where are they now?”

“Remember the Northern River Plague that broke out a couple of years ago?”

“Yes, my brother died of it.”

“Well so did Dad and uncle. Unfortunately, I decided to leave the north sometime later and joined the Home Guard.”

Julius laughed. “Didn’t know it was full of criminals, thugs, and gangsters…did you?”

Xidar shook his head. “I know now.”

“What about your cousin?”

“He was smarter than me.”

“How?”

“You mean…Wulfhund?

Julius laughed. “Your cousin’s name is…Wulfhund?”

Xidar nodded. “Yes, he was named after grandfather.”

“I see.”

“This farmer was always telling Wulfhund that hard work and clean-living lead to prosperity.”

“He sounds like a matron.”

There was a pause, and both men laughed.

“Well, the matrons are right. Wulfhund saved his money and bought a cherry orchard. He’s done quite well for himself.”

Julius looked at Xidar.

“Ever think of ditching this war, make your way north, and work for Wulfhund?”

Xidar smiled. “All the time. What about you?”

Julius laughed and sat down on a rock.

“Sector 3.”

Xidar scratched his head. “What about Sector 3?”

“That’s where my family lives. They own huge tracts of grazing land. Horses, that was our gig. We bred and raised horses…the best horses. We sold them to the Lords, to townspeople, farmers, soldiers and such. Most of the horses competing in the horse races were raised on our lands.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“Stupidity, Xidar…stupidity. I got bored with the quiet life. So, I became a mercenary and ended up here.”

“Did you get enough daring-do?”

Julius paused. “I’d give anything to raise horses again.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Well, I got here and was mustered into the Home Guard, and like a fool, I stayed.”

Julius turned his head to the right and pointed toward an obese man sitting in a litter wearing a laurel crown on his head, stuffing his face with chicken and dates.

“Xidar, it’s thugs like him that screwed everything up. He’s no officer…he’s a filthy criminal. He has no business calling himself a commander.”

The man’s name was Bacchus, and he did everything he could to justify the name, as far as drinking went. He was the leader of a vicious gang of thugs in the North Section of the Great City. But he did something quite unique. He was at the top of a hitlist maintained by the Yimmers of Platoon 16. They got everyone else on the list, but somehow, Bacchus got out of the city before they could kill him. So, the Yimmers were constantly looking for him, and unbeknownst to him, the Yimmers knew exactly where he was. The Lords would soon appear, so they held off killing Bacchus for the time being. He gave himself the rank of Senior Commander in the Home Guard and claimed to be a military man…something he definitely wasn’t. Eight men, comprising his bodyguard, were milling around and looking very nervous.

Xidar shook his head. “I don’t know how the Yimmers didn’t get him.”

Suddenly, there was loud shouting coming from the tree line. Xidar, Julius, and the othersoldiers jumped to their feet, drawing their weapons. Julius peered at the tree line.

“Wait…those are our boys.”

The men were running as fast as they could. They were waving their hands in the air in a panic.

“Run away! Retreat! Every man for himself!”

They were throwing their weapons away and stripping off pieces of armor and tossing them aside, hoping to pass themselves off as civilians.

As they ran past the Home Guard soldiers, Julius tried to find out what was happening. Finally, he grabbed a soldier who was wearing only long underwear and a pair of army boots. Julius slapped him across the face.

“What the hell is happening?”

The soldier had a terrified look on his face. He pointed to the tree line.

“It’s the Lords…they’re coming.”

“We know that.”

“No…they’re coming and are almost here,” he said pointing at the tree line again.

“How many?” Xidar asked, his nervousness reaching a climax.

“We think about six or seven divisions. Nothing’s stopping them. They’re like a swarm of locusts…they’re chewing up everything in their path.”

“Six or seven divisions?” Julius asked in a frantic voice.

“Maybe more…we’re not sure because we ran away. Snipers are setting up in the trees. NCC, Sisters, ISF…they’re all coming!”

Julius and Xidar looked at each other in amazement.

“Where are you going?” Julius asked.

“To the Great City. There are tunnels in the northern part. I’m going to escape!”

Julius slapped him again.

“North? The Yimmers are the de facto government in the northern zones of the city. They’ll kill you.”

The soldier pushed Julius away. “I’ve got to try.” With that, the soldier pulled himself free of Julius’s grasp, kicked off his army boots, and, barefoot, joined the other retreating soldiers. There were about 30 Home Guard soldiers with Julius and Xidar, and if they weren’t nervous before, they were definitely nervous now. Julius grasped Xidar’s arm and led him about 10 feet away from the others.

“So, Xidar…do you want to live, or do you want to die?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple question conducive to a simple answer…do you want to live or do you want to die?”

“Well, I’d rather live.”

Julius smiled.

“Me too. And I’ll tell you something else.”

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“You can think of your stomach at a time like this?”

“You betcha. I haven’t eaten anything in four days.”

Xidar nodded his head and rubbed his stomach, which gave out a timely growl. “Me either. You’re not thinking about surrendering, are you?”

“Damn right I am. We’re soldiers, not criminals. And when soldiers surrender without fighting, the Lords treat them very well.”

“Ok, I’ll surrender if you do.”

Julius nodded. “Ok, but I have to do something first.”

Julius began walking toward Bacchus. Soon his bodyguard stepped in. But Julius stared them down, and they parted. He walked up to Bacchus and saluted.

“Hail the mighty Bacchus!” he shouted. But still, I wish I could say it was honor serving under you.”

Bacchus looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

“And I’m really sorry about what happened.”

“What happened?” Bacchus asked.

“This!” Julius thrust his sword into Bacchus’s throat. The bodyguards paused and looked at each other. Then they cheered loudly.

Julius walked over to Xidar. He took off his helmet and breastplate and threw them aside. He hurled his sword as far as he could. Then he raised his hands in the air and began marching toward the tree line. Many of the other soldiers did the same. Suddenly, commanding officers of the NCC, IAF, and Loyalty Enforcement Sisters slowly emerged from the woodline. Julius, Xidar, and the others, hands over their heads, no longer wearing armor or carrying weapons, dropped to their knees. Suddenly, some short figures dressed in all black with masks on their faces darted out from behind them, looking around in all directions. They were Combat Intelligence troops, and began climbing trees and boulders, wearing the special goggles that the famous scientist Callerinus, a Macedonian, had made using a series of ground lenses that were mounted into a pair of leather googles. As they looked around, they yelled to one another, indicating what was ahead. The job was a dangerous one. They usually ran in front of the regular troops to determine where the enemy was…you know, like reconnaissance troop/ And like most imperial jobs that had a lot of risk, they were paid very well, and received generous retirement benefits. Well, that is to say, if they lived long enough. They scampered around, noting everything that lay ahead. And one of them was carrying a large map. Then a colonel from the IAF and a Lieutenant General from the NCC noticed Julius and the others. The imperial troops walked out into the open, and seeing the Home Guard soldiers, began drawing their weapons. But the commanders motioned for them to stop. They walked up to Julius.

“Well, are you going to fight?”

Julius shook his head. “No.”

“No? What do you want?”

“I throw myself on the mercy of the Lords.”

The NCC commander began walking back and forth in front of him.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Then he pointed at the other soldiers.

“And what say you?”

“Oh, we’ll do what Julius does.”

The IAF colonel approached.

“Are you surrendering without fighting?”

Julius, Xidar and the others nodded.

“Well then, the mercy of the Lords you shall have.”

Then she turned around and began speaking to the NCC officer. He looked at them and waved.

“You may go.”

Julius remained kneeling.

“But commander, what do you mean…you may go?”

“I gave you the mercy of the Lords. You are soldiers who surrendered without fighting…you’re free to leave.”

Julius thought for a moment.

“Commander, I beg the Lords grant us P.O.W status.”

The two officers looked at each other, stunned expressions on their faces. The soldiers appearing from the trees looked at each other in confusion.

“You want to be prisoners?”

Julius stood up and put his hands down. The others followed suit.

“Yes, please.”

The two commanders looked at Julius. Then they looked at each other.

“Can they do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ask to be prisoners of war?”

“Well, they can ask for anything they want, I suppose.”

Suddenly the IAF colonel whistled loudly. “Officer Christina…front and center!”

The soldiers began parting. A short, fourteen-year-old girl wearing a full suit of plate mail armor, including a helmet, slowly made her way to the front. The armor was heavy, to say the least, and it looked like she wasn’t having an easy time moving around in it. She had a sword in her belt and was carrying a large white book. She approached the IAF colonel and gave the salute.

“grmphphyttf!”

The colonel tapped the top of Christina’s helmet.

“Remove your helmet.”

Christina set her book down on a boulder. Then she removed her helmet. A mass of blond hair popped out from her collar. And there she was, a pretty girl with a big toothy grin.

“Hail the Lords!” Christina shouted.

“Yes, Christina, hail the Lords. Do you have your big book of military protocols?”

That was the big book she was carrying. There were imperial protocol officers for everything, and they were paid pretty well. Christina had proved herself to be a keen student of Imperial Military Promulgations and was promoted beyond what was common for protocol officers of her age. Christina grabbed the book and held it up.

“It’s right here!”

“Good. I need you to look something up.”

“What?”

“I need to know if enemy combatants are allowed to request POW status?”

“Request? What do you mean?”

“See those soldiers?” he said, pointing at Julius and the others. They are formally requesting POW status.”

Christina looked at the men in amazement.

“You want to be prisoners? You can just go home.”

“No, commander Christina, we beg the Lords to accept us as prisoners,” Julius called out.

The NCC officer walked over to her.

“Are they allowed to do so?”

Christina shrugged her shoulders. “Well, they can ask for anything they want, I suppose.”

The NCC commander pointed at Christina. “Yes, but can they receive that status?

‘I will check,” she said, opening the book and reading the table of contents. Then she flipped further into the book.

“Oh, yes, Imperial Military Promulgation 71, sub-section 132, paragraph 71, sub-paragraph 456. Yes, if they are soldiers and surrender without fighting, they may request residence in a POW compound at the Lords’ expense.”

The IAF colonel looked at Christina.

“I guess we’ll give them POW status!”

Christina raised her hand in the air. “There’s lots of things they can’t be.” Then she looked at the soldiers. “Who is your commander, the one who speaks on your behalf?”

The soldiers pointed at Julius…he is! They declared.

Christina walked up to Julius. She found the section listing all the things they can’t be.

“Are you thugs, criminals, gangsters, racketeers, scoundrels, thieves, louts, crooks, villains, culprits, delinquents, hooligans, ruffians, felons, or embezzlers?”

“No,” Julius replied.

“Are you brigands, bandits, freebooters, outlaws, marauders, swindlers, pickpockets, flim-flam artists, or highwaymen?”

“No.”

“Are you pirates, picaroons, corsairs, buccaneers or mutineers?”

“No, we’ve never been in the navy.”

Christina pointed at Julius and scowled. “Very funny! But are you terrorists, insurgents, guerrillas, assassins, traitors, insurrectionists or rebels?”

“No.”

“Are you smugglers, bootleggers, or illegal arms dealers?”

“Nope.”

“Do you pay your taxes?”

“Always.”

“Are you blasphemers, sacrilegious, or atheists?”

“By, Zeus…no!”

“Have you ever been a corrupt political leader or kleptocrat of any rank?”

“No.”

“Have you ever operated a brothel, or been a pimp, flesh-peddler, or whoremonger?”

“Of course not!”

“Good!” shouted Christina…or Director Marcella would hang you!”

“Have you ever told a dirty joke about Lord Alvah?”

“Oh, goodness no!”

Christina glared at Julius for a moment. Then she pointed at him. “Good! She doesn’t like that!”

Now Julius was lying. He had, in fact, told dirty jokes about Lord Alvah. But everyone told dirty jokes about Lord Alvah, usually focusing on her purported sexual antics.

The IAF colonel stepped forward. “Is that all?”

“No…one more thing. Are you Fifth Columnists?”

Julius and Xidar looked at each other in confusion. But so did the imperial commanders. After a long pause, the colonel spoke.

“What is a Fifth Columnist?”

Christina shook her head. “I don’t know. But I can look it up in the definitions section.” And so, she turned to the back of the big book.

“Oh, yes…here it is. A Fifth Columnist is a member of a group of people who support the enemies of the country they live in…in this case…the Lords. And they provide relief, comfort, assistance, and succor. Are you such men?” she asked.

Julius and Xidar shook their heads. “We are not Fifth Columnists.”

Christina closed the book. “Then they may request POW status. But! It can only be granted by an officer in The Executive above the rank of colonel.”

Suddenly an officer stepped out of the forest, wearing the distinct, gold-colored breast plate of The Executive.

“Did someone say…The Executive?”

The IAF colonel peered at him, looking the officer up and down. His eyes rested on the officer’s collar. And yes…a Lieutenant General. He smiled.

“Well, Lieutenant General, we have something to dump in your lap.”

“What’s that?”

“These soldiers are surrendering without fighting. They have requested POW status.”

He looked at Julius, then looked at Christina. “They’re not Fifth Columnists, are they?”

The colonel looked over at him. “Why is it that I’m not surprised that you know that?”

The commander laughed. “Well, if they’re not anything they can’t be, then I will grant them POW status.”

The men had thrown all their weapons aside, along with any armor they were wearing. Soon, a huge wagon drawn by a large team of horses. Inside were some soldiers and a group of Fifth Columnists, all with manacles on their wrists. The wagon and the prisoners were heading to the main road, where prison camps had been set up. There were several IAF soldiers accompanying it. Then the Lieutenant General held up his hand, signaling for the wagon to stop. Then he pointed at Julius, Xidar, and the other men.

“Get in the truck, please”

As they were climbing into the back of the wagon, Xidar stopped.

“Aren’t you going to manacle us?” he asked.

“Why would I do that?”

When they arrived at their destination, everyone got out of the truck. There was a Special Forces soldier standing at the entrance to Compound C. Julius noticed she was the only person on guard, and there was no door or fence at the entrance. After getting out of the truck, Julius and the others were pointed toward Compound C. Once inside they, they shaved their heads and took hot baths that included soap that gave you a slight stinging feeling. But then you got cold water dumped over you, and the feeling went away. They were given new clothes to wear and taken to the living-tents. Julius’s eyes lit up. There were two long rows of large cots, complete with pillows and blankets.

“See, Xidar! I haven’t slept in a dry, warm cot for what seems like forever.”

It was evening now, so they were led back out the living-tents and into another area. There were tables and benches laid out in three rows. At the front was located a kitchen, and young children, members of the Imperial Youth Brigade, were putting plates and bowls on the table. An officer blew a whistle, and they sat down. Dinner included stew, roasted carrots and potatoes, apples, and fruit juice. There was also grog. Julius and the others tore into their meals, gulping them down, and requested seconds. Julius smiled at Xidar.

“See, I told you.”

Xidar smiled back, “I never doubted you for a minute.”

After dinner, the men were led back to the tents. And everyone soon fell asleep. It was the middle of the night when Julius was awoken by Xidar who was shaking him by the shoulder. Julius opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“Hey, Julius.”

“What?”

“Aren’t we going to escape?”

Julius rolled over on his side.

“Why the hell, would I do that?”

“Well, aren’t we supposed to escape?”

Now as it was, there were now two guards at the entrance to Compound C. That was it. As it was, they were gambling and paid no attention to the prisoners in the tent. And the guards weren’t there to keep people in…they were there to keep people out, such as prisoners that were ranked in lower categories.

“You go! I’m staying for breakfast,” Julius declared.

“Your stomach again?”

Julius laughed, you know it! I overhead a cook and a matron talking. Apparently, breakfast will be fruit, hot-buttered bread with honey, and…let me see, what did they say? Oh yes…eggs.”

The other men suddenly sat up in their cots.

“Eggs?!! They exclaimed in unison. They hadn’t eaten eggs for months. They had become rather rare in the south recently.

“Yes, eggs. So go ahead, Xidar, you escape, and I’ll eat your breakfast.”

Xidar glared down at him. “You’re not eating my eggs!”

“He, Julius,” an Italian soldier shouted.

“What?”

“Did you see that Special Forces woman at the entrance to the compound when we first came in? She’s built just like I like’em.”

The other men burst out laughing. Julius looked over at him.

“I’d be careful about that if I were you.”

“Hey Julius,” the former Greek mercenary called out, jumping up.

“What?”

“Did you see that short, golden-haired deputy matron? She smiled at me.”

Julius laughed. “It was gas.”

He laid back down in his bunk. “It wasn’t gas!”

Then soon, everyone fell asleep again. The routine was a pleasant one. You had to be up by 7:30 and make your cot and put on clean clothes. There was marching and calisthenics, and horse-riding too. The living-tents were cleaned and then inspected by a couple of guards. Right before lunch the men had to attend a daily lecture about how wonderful the Lords are. In the afternoon, you were free to do what you pleased. And you could simply walk out of the compound, but if you did, you couldn’t go back…you had to leave or be reclassified as a captured enemy combatant. Of course, no wanted to leave.

That was life in Compound C. But then one morning they heard imperial officers shouting orders to troops from The Executive. They were dismantling the compounds. Julius and Xidar were sitting out back. Julius was smoking his pipe.

“Hey Julius.”

“Yeah?”

“I wonder what’s going on? There’s a lot of commotion.”

Suddenly, an NCC officer appeared from around the corner. She was leading two horses.

“Hey, guys.”

Xidar looked up. “Hi, Pollina. What’s all the ruckus?”

“Well, the Lords have declared the war over now. There are pockets of resistance in the Big City, but the Lords issued a promulgation that anyone still fighting is a criminal. That makes it a law-enforcement matter…so The Executive will deal with it.”

Then Pollina gave the reigns of the horses to each man.

“You guys can have these horses and go wherever you want. But I would leave Sector 7 for some place nicer.”

She turned around to leave, then whirled around. She reached into her belt and pulled out two small purses containing silver pieces.

“This should get you started,” she said, tossing the purses to Xidar and Julius.

A whistle blew, and Pollina hurried toward the main office.

“So, Xidar, what are your plans? You headed up north to meet up with your cousin?”

Xidar smiled.

“Sure am. A little bit of hard work will be good for me. I’ll make the matrons proud! Besides, I’ll save up my money and buy my own orchard. I’m sure Wulfhund will help me out. What about you?”

Julius smiled.

“I’m headed back to Sector 3. I’ll go home and help the family with the horses. A while back, it seemed like a boring life. But it looks different now.”

Both men shook hands.

“Until we meet again.”

Then Xidar headed north, and Julius headed to the Main Gate that led into Sector 6. It was a two-day’s journey from there to Sector 3.