Not long after the sun burned off the last of the morning mist, emissaries from the palace arrived at the K.P.P. headquarters until the summons gathered momentum and took form: the commanders of the five units must convene to coordinate response. The meeting would be tactical, public lines said, but in the halls everyone knew that "tactical" often hid politics. The table at the palace's strategic chamber was long, its center a polished map of the kingdom, and around it sat the men and women who, in theory, would keep the nation steady.
Commander Ardin of the Borderknights arrived first. He was a man whose presence suggested the open land he guarded: broad, straightforward, and quick with an assessment. He set down a leather packet of patrol reports and spoke in the blunt manner of someone who'd faced raids at the edge and been practiced at repelling them. "They're testing perimeters," he said. "Two things: speed and stealth. The bands aren't interested in loots. They want supplies and maybe want to convey a message."
Commander Elise of the Airknights came in next, hair braided tight, lenses on a cord about her neck, the faint smell of oil and wind about her. Elise spoke in crisp, measured sentences like someone who thought in three dimensions. "From what fly scans we've made, we're seeing quick, dispersed movement, small numbers. If they're using the terrain cleverly, the only way to counter is to push aerial patrols at dawn and dust them with scouting gliders at dusk. Catch them while they disperse."
Commander Sie of the Octaknights arrived in almost a different posture: lean and precise, with a manner that suggested measured timing and engineering minds — Octaknights were as much about machines and logistics as swords. "If they are avoiding leaving tracks and detection magic," said Sie, "they may be using special materials on horses, or they may be operating in small teams that move swiftly and keep clean escape lanes. We can set false trails—draw them out."
Commander Cassandra arrived with a quiet that felt like steel wrapped in velvet. Her eyes flicked over the map, absorbing the reports. Beside her Colins set down his own file — Razille's file, the K.P.P. transcripts, the scattered witness statements. Cassandra's face did not betray anger; it stayed the steady woman who knew how to take the blows and measure them for survival. "We need people on the roads," she said. "Not just soldiers, but eyes. Our knights see more than patrols sometimes. We need to mobilize the Postknight networks."
And then Orsic arrived.
He filled the door like a proclamation. Commander of the K.P.P., defense advisor, a man who inhabited the government's nervous systems; his armor had a finish like the polished will of a man who liked to be obeyed. He scanned faces like someone studying maps rather than men. He had, in his satchel, a stack of memos and an even bigger certainty that the answer was his to name.
"We have to be aggressive," he said immediately, not waiting for the formalities. "We cannot allow these breaches to continue. I recommend doubling the K.P.P. patrols in the middle ring, putting checkpoints at every major thoroughfare, and authorizing proactive sweeps along likely escape routes."
Ardin studied him. "Proactive sweeps may catch them, Orsic, but they also risk collateral damage, like threatening life of many innocent civilians. We're still uncertain if they are enemies of the crown or opportunistic brigands."
"They attacked towns; that is enough," Orsic snapped. "Hesitation is not what we need."
Elise bristled. "You would spread K.P.P. patrols thin over every lane, and what then? You tie our wings with curfews. The air route is most effective if we're free to fly. Ground-only policing will hamper us."
Orsic's jaw tightened. "You would have us dance on the wind's favor while people die?"
The room chilled; Elise's eyes flashed.
Cassandra's voice slid between them. "We don't need ideological rows. We need practical plans that don't set our own people against each other."
Orsic turned to Cassandra like a man who found a familiar obstacle. "Commander Cassandra, with all due respect, the Postknights have been implicated in a recent scandal. Your unit's trustworthiness may be — compromised."
Cassandra's back straightened. She did not let the sting show; instead, she answered with the quiet assurance of someone who will not be baited into spectacle. "Our unit will cooperate by any means possible. We will provide scouts, witness statements, and liaison officers. But this is not the time to scapegoat us."
"Scapegoat?" Orsic's tone tasted of amusement and threat. "No. This is about the stewardship of security. If a unit cannot be trusted to prevent a threat, command will reassess."
Elise's palms clenched. "You cannot threaten them in the middle of a tactical strategy session!"
Ardin rose, a slow motion like the setting of a broad sun. He placed his hands flat on the map board. "Enough. We do not have the luxury of turning on each other. These men and women on the road — we all rely on them. We assemble a cordon in grades: Airknights for surveillance, Borderknights to sweep the perimeter, Octaknights provide mechanized nets for escape routes, Postknights provide eyes within communities, and K.P.P. secures checkpoints and command posts. We use the strengths of each unit."
"Command posts must be centralized," Orsic countered. "And the K.P.P. must coordinate. We cannot have scattered orders."
"All of us will coordinate," Cassandra said. "But not dictate the methods each unit uses. That's not why these five units were divided in the first place right?"
Orsic fixed her with a look that could have carved stone. "You have misunderstood, Cassandra. Central coordination is not dictation. It is the only way to ensure that all units speak the same language."
"If your voice becomes the only one heard," Elise said quietly, "then we will be singing a single song with one note. We will lose the advantage of diversity."
"You'll have your tactical suggestions," Orsic said, gesturing with the kind of patience of someone answering children. "But we will proceed as the command determines."
The table hummed with a new tension — old politics straining at the edges of urgency. Ardin's hand dropped to the map, fingers mapping a wide sweep. "Fine. We do it like this: Airknights send continuous patrols at dawn and dusk. Borderknights set up mobile sweep lines beyond the outer ring. Octaknights will deploy net line traps with pulley toys to snag horse legs — non-lethal, obviously. Postknights will handle civilian liaison and serve as eyes in the market and caravan routes. K.P.P. will maintain checkpoints and command the primary cordon."
Orsic folded his arms. "Acceptable — with conditions."
"Conditions?" Colins asked.
Orsic's mouth twitched. "Transparency regarding intelligence flows. The K.P.P. maintains the right to intercept any communications that are believed to be compromised. We will also hold any unit liable that's found to be obstructing our operation."
Cassandra's lips pressed into a thin line. "Obstruction is not our method. And in regard to interceptions — there are some protocols that exist..."
"I will make the protocols sharper." Orsic's voice had the chill of a blade drawn slowly. "We have already experienced a lapse. We cannot afford another."