Kioni 

" I have two years left. Two years before they kick me out, and I lie on a bed with a stranger or with knives." Guard Kioni, salvaged 9/8/18 AD, found in the northern palace of the Zaherian Empire. 

" What was all that smoke about?" Okoyo asked, his head bobbing dangerously close to my hammock. 

"Maybe it's a Zahereian withdrawal alert," I sighed, pushing the bottom of the hammock with my boot. He screamed and fell into his hammock, rocking the core of the bed frame with his mere 130 pounds. 

"You should have joined a theater production with those skills," I said, trying to hold in a laugh. 

Normally I would ignore his antiques but all parole guards as of last night were required to sleep in the trainee barracks due to heightened tensions between us and a small Zaherian rebel group. The trainee room looked just as it sounds. Stone walls were barely highlighted due to the dozens of two story bunk bed style hammocks crammed into every hint of room. The middle had a few sandstone tables with candles and a large map of Jorri etched into its center. It reminded me of Okoyo and I's trainee days; when the sun used to eat up all our sweat and the swords felt like two tons of copper sitting in the palms of my hands. But the feeling only lasted for an hour or so until the guards became restless and rumors started to take place. 

 Our section's general, General Emene, who locked us in here a few hours ago, silently watched crowds of men hovering over a game of mancala played on the carved out map of Jorri. They tried desperately to cloak their gossip underneath the constant buzzes and shouts from players, but their disguise was too faulty, and the longer you listened in, the more you deciphered their true conversation. 

Okoyo jumped off his hammock and kneeled next to me before whispering "You really think it was just a Zaherean signal?" 

" Yes," I said with annoyance rising in my tone, " Zahere has less than four hundred people left. It was most likely just a religious ceremony or a disbandment call." 

Okoyo's hands went limp with disappointment as he rolled the foot of my hammock. "Did you ever heard the stories of The Zahere Fires?"

"You mean the myths they told us as children?" I said sliding my feet away from his head. 

"Did you not pay attention in history class during our training?" Okoyo said as he sat upright to face me. His expression wasn't quite angry as he was concerned. As if I didn't score much higher than him. 

"It's a typical war story, rooted in truths. Not lies or stories," He said, not letting a word come to my defense. " A story of the Zahere cleansing."

" I know the story," I said, trying to keep my tone light and airy. 

" I don't think they taught you this story in the female class," He said, shooing the thought away. " Anyway, Zahere wanted to instill religion into our country and free the cursed. Jorri fought back to keep its values. This much I assume you know," He said, looking around the room to make sure no one was watching us. Although I was a royal guard, it was against the rules to educate women on unauthorized information unless directly told so by the royal family. Most of the mandatory education classes I took were taught by a female teacher at odd hours. Even my tests were slightly altered to fit the female perspective. My father would always mumble about my assignments on my off days and go on deep rants about female education. But Jorri education never failed. Women have been completing secondary school at an all time high. I even passed all of the royal guard assessments. So I don't think it is unequal. I think it's balanced. 

" You're authorized to teach me this," I said, trying to cover his mouth. 

"It's not that bad!" He grumbled as he snatched my hand away from his mouth. 

"What if General Emene takes note of this and kicks us both out?" I whispered, taking subtle glances at the general. He didn't seem the least concerned about our conversation but it only took one guy to send me back home. 

" At that time, the Zahereian Empire took great pride in their cremations. They used open air cremations even days after the survivors went into hiding." He glanced at General Emene every so often. "Jorri knew of this ritual and decided to turn it into an available weapon to keep our way of life protected. The Zahereians ritual included burning wood, coal, and powdered colors (typically orange) over the dead body which was inevedenly released into the sky. What they didn't know is that once this gas reached a certain point in the sky, it would transform into a lethal substance. Knocking birds from the sky and poisoning the drinking water with their blood." Dishes clashed through the floor sending everyone in an uproar. I immendelty tried to scramble from the sheets of the bed and grabbed the butt of my sword. 

"Do not act like that! You are a part of the royal guard! Not men laundering outside brothels! Clean up this mess and report to your beds!" General Emene screamed as he threw a handful of cards at the guards. The general buzz was replaced with the dull scraping of chairs and tables severling limiting our conversation. 

"Zahere ended up weaponizing the gas and used the birds as biological warfare," Okoyo rushed, his words flying under the still air. "They found a way to recreate the gas without having to climb high highs. After excavating Jorri's countryside, they unleashed it on the Zaherian population. It killed our enemies and halted their cultural onslaught. Many remaining Zaherians can be identified by their unnaturally orange tinted eyes and weak lungs." 

I didn't know how the gas was formed or the tacktes Jorri used to win the war, but did know about their eyes. We would often go on rounds and blind spots for anyone with them. I have personally captured three Zaherian rebels in one night, which is an all time high. But while the orange tinted eyes helped, there was anyway way of spotting them. A much more oblivious way. On every single of them, they all had a marking to celebrate their abomination gods. The same gods that slaughtered my mother, and stripped my father of his riches. The gods that sent Jorri's gas directly back at us, poisoning my lungs. These gods don't exist. I knew that well, but I will kill any hope. Any whims that are connected with those gods, and burn their history to the ground.