Tre'yon returned not long after, stepping back into the tent with something carefully balanced in his hands. It wasn't carried directly, but instead rested on top of a thin cloth that shimmered faintly under the dim light as if it had been woven with twinkling stars. The fabric itself looked ordinary at first glance, but the way it caught the light suggested otherwise it looked almost blurry, like a smudge on a mirror. Resting on top of the cloth was a circular object, dark and smooth, its surface reflecting a deep obsidian purple that seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it. Runes were carved into its surface in tight, intricate patterns, glowing faintly as something beneath them pulsed quietly with energy.
Tre'yon approached Gavial without a word, stopping just before him and lowering himself into a respectful bow before lifting the cloth and presenting both it and the object. Gavial reached forward calmly, taking the item without hesitation as his grey claws engulfed the cloth and the obsidian circle. He rested them on his palm as his fingers brushed against the strange surface without any sign of concern.
Then his gaze shifted to Grub.
"You there, strange creature," Gavial said, his voice low and controlled, "let me explain what you will do for us."
Grub didn't respond. He simply glared, his expression hardened despite the state he was in, his body still aching and barely holding itself together. His mind, however, was sharp.
He wasn't going to help them. Who were they to command him like this? Who were they to decide what he would do? He had come here for answers, not to be chained or to be used, and definitely not to be forced into someone else's war.
No. He refused to do this.
Gavial unclipped the circular object, the runes along its surface briefly flaring brighter as something inside it shifted and adjusted. He turned it slightly in his hand, almost inspecting it, before continuing.
"We are here to invade and eventually take that Anwansi village for the Empire," Gavial began, his tone steady, as if he were explaining something simple. "It is an open land that stands alone. Several attempts by many countries and kingdoms have been made throughout history to take that village for themselves, but none have been successful. They are veiled in secrecy, and we are aware that strong individuals reside there."
Grub's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, listening despite himself.
"We have sent many spies," Gavial continued, "but it seems they are wary of Lacerts. Every one of them has been killed. The mainland has not made this a priority, but there is… something of value there. A powerful weapon. One they would very much like retrieved."
Gavial's grip tightened slightly around the object.
"And as a Colonel," he said, his voice lowering just a fraction, "it falls to me to retrieve it."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Now then, boy… I would like to send you to this Anwansi village as our new spy."
Grub's mind raced instantly. They wanted him to infiltrate a place that had already killed every spy they had sent before? That wasn't strategy, it was utter insanity. There was no way he was agreeing to something like that. It was practically a death sentence disguised as a mission.
He didn't respond. He just stared at Gavial, his glare sharpening. Gavial smirked, revealing sharp, jagged teeth as he continued, clearly unbothered by the silence.
"You will serve us by delivering the information you gather when we command it," he said. "And of course, we will be placing this bracelet—this Mgbaaka Maara—onto you to ensure that you do not stray."
He lifted the obsidian ring slightly. Gavial studied the engravings carefully before returning back to the conversation.
"We have added a few… modifications. This device was primarily made to keep track of someone, but we wanted it to be a little more versatile so we added some things."
Grub's eyes flicked toward it.
"First," Gavial said casually, "the bracelet will send a small shock through your body when it is time for you to report. A reminder, if you will. Second…"
He paused, his smirk widening just slightly. As he stared down Grub, a cold air brushed through the room sending chills down the spine of not only Grub.. The powerful lizard's mere presence and his.sudden shift to an unserious tone gave everyone present an unshakable feeling.
"If you betray us… the bracelet will kill you."
Grub's eyes widened, his breath catching slightly.
There was no way— Gavial cut him off before he could even react.
"Of course," he added lightly, "if you choose not to accept, you will be executed immediately, in fact, I will make sure of that ... .The choice is yours, you insignificant worm."
Grub's jaw tightened as he looked down briefly, his thoughts racing.
My choices were simple, brutally so. Die here, or walk into a mission that would likely kill me anyway.
But even beyond that, he understood something else.
Even if he succeeded…They might not let him go.
They could force him to keep the bracelet on forever. Use him again. And again. Turn him into nothing more than a tool. Gavial watched him closely, reading every flicker of thought that crossed his face. He thought for a moment before speaking.
"If you complete this task," Gavial said, his tone shifting slightly, "your sentence will be eased. You will be free to go."
Grub didn't look up. He didn't trust that. He couldn't. Not even a little. Then Gavial's eyes lit up slightly, as if remembering
"Oh," he added, almost casually, "we also have your notebook."
Grub's head snapped up. The topic of his precious book had perked his interest.
Gavial smiled.
"And after sending men to scour the wilderness, we believe we have located your… little hideout. Strangely enough, there appeared to be Lacert blood nearby."
His gaze locked onto Grub's. Gavial made a quick glance at Tre'yon before smiling wickedly.
"I wonder what that's about."
Grub's heart stuttered. Gavial's smile widened just enough to show that he could see Grub's reaction. Grub truly didn't care if Tre'yon hated him for that. He was more worried about Tre'yon's might and the fact he may kill him right here if he found out.
"We will return your supplies," Gavial continued, "provide you with a new weapon, and give back this notebook. That seems to be written in a language we do not understand."
Gavial paused for a moment before finishing.
"All of it… if you agree."
Grub stared at the ground, his fists tightening slightly as everything settled into place.
There was no real choice.
"…Fine," he said.
The word came out low and flat.
Gavial nodded once, satisfied, before gesturing toward Tre'yon.
Tre'yon stepped forward slowly, his expression uneasy as he approached Grub with the bracelet. For a moment, he hesitated, then carefully fastened the obsidian ring around Grub's wrist. The moment it clicked into place, the runes along its surface flared briefly as the metal adjusted, tightening perfectly to his arm.
Grub felt it immediately. Something unnatural. A faint hum beneath his skin. He felt the constant presence of something watching his back. He did not like the feeling whatsoever.
The chains around his wrists were removed shortly after, the weight falling away as a soldier stepped back. Gavial waved his hand dismissively.
"You have two days to prepare for departure," he said. "We will provide you with a map. Retrieve your belongings."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"And do not try to run."
"Or I will kill you."
There was something in the way he said it that made it clear. He meant it and he could do it with or without the bracelet.
Grub said nothing as he turned and began to walk, his steps slow but steady as he exited the tent and moved back through the camp. The guards watched him closely, their eyes never leaving him as he made his way toward the edge of the settlement.
Once he was clear, he didn't stop. He kept walking back toward his makeshift shelter. His mind raced the entire time.
This wasn't what I wanted. This wasn't the plan.
He had been dragged into something far larger than himself, bound to a mission that could kill him from either side. But even so…Maybe there was something to gain. Maybe there were answers there. Even if he had no intention of truly helping them.
Grub exhaled slowly as he reached his shelter and began going through his things. He removed the ruined remnants of his disguise and replaced them with his old clothes—his black shirt, his jeans and his boots. Then he pulled on his white coat, the familiar weight of it settling over him in a way that felt almost grounding. He slid his notebook into one of the inner pockets, holding it there for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go.
Then he began to pack. Soon, he would leave this place behind as a spy in a war that had nothing to do with him. Grub let out a quiet breath.
What luck.