If you like the fanfic, add this to your library. Powerstones and comments/review are greatly appreciated!
--<<>>--
The Great Hall was finally empty.
The echo of the last boot on stone had faded, leaving behind only the scent of extinguished torches and the heavy weight of the coming war. The map table was dark; the blue light of the hologram finally turned off.
Raven had already departed, muttering Trigedasleng verbs under her breath as she followed a bewildered acolyte toward the library. Mike had watched her go with a nod of approval. She was diving headfirst into a culture she barely understood, and Mike appreciated her efforts.
Mike turned away from the door and looked at the two women standing by the window.
Lexa and Anya were side by side, looking out over the city of Polis. The late afternoon sun bathed them in a warm, amber light, softening the tension. They looked like statues of war, beautiful and terrifying, burdened by the weight of thousands of lives.
Mike walked over to them, his footsteps quiet on the stone. He stopped behind them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
"This might be the last peaceful day for a while," Mike said quietly.
Lexa sighed, leaning back slightly into his touch. "Peace is a luxury we cannot afford, Mike. The riders are already gone. The forges are lit. Every hour we rest is an hour the enemy marches closer."
"The enemy is a month away," Mike countered gently. "And an army that runs without rest breaks its legs before the battle begins."
He squeezed their shoulders. "The plans are set. The chiefs have their orders. Raven is working. For the next twelve hours, there is nothing for the Commander or the General to do."
Anya turned her head, looking up at him with a skeptical brow raised. "So what do you suggest, Strat Heda? Sparring? Meditation?"
Mike smiled, a warm, genuine expression that reached his golden eyes.
"I was thinking something a little different," he said. "Do you want to go on a date together?"
Lexa and Anya stared at him. They blinked in unison.
"A... date?" Lexa repeated the word carefully, testing its weight on her tongue as if it were a foreign tactical term. "What is that? A type of skirmish?"
"Is it a negotiation?" Anya asked, her hand drifting to her dagger.
Mike stared at them. His mouth opened slightly, then closed.
He was shell-shocked.
It hit him then. These women had been raised in a society where love was quick, where joy was small, and where every interaction was a transaction of power or survival. They had never walked in a park holding hands. They had never shared a meal just for the pleasure of the company.
"No," Mike said, a soft laugh bubbling up from his chest. "No, it's not a skirmish. And it's definitely not a negotiation."
He stepped back, looking at them with a tenderness that made their hearts ache.
"A date," Mike explained, "is when people who care about each other take time to just... be. No war. No politics. No armor. We go out into the city. We eat food that isn't rationed. We walk. We talk about things that don't involve killing."
He held out his hands to them.
"Just Mike, Lexa, and Anya. For one day."
Lexa looked at his hand, then at Anya. A flicker of something young and hopeful sparked in her green eyes. "Just us?"
"Just us," Mike promised. "No titles. No Heda. No Chief. No Strat-Heda."
Anya hesitated, her warrior's instinct warring with a desire she had buried long ago. "The people... they will recognize us. We cannot just walk the streets."
"Leave that to me," Mike grinned.
Twenty minutes later, three figures slipped out of a side entrance of the tower.
They were dressed in simple, nondescript traveler's cloaks made of rough-spun wool. Their armor was gone, replaced by simple tunics and trousers. Heavy scarves were wrapped loosely around their necks and lower faces, hiding their identities.
Mike adjusted his scarf, ensuring his white hair was tucked away under a hood. He felt lighter without the heavy tactical suit, though he still wore a hidden blade at his belt — old habits died hard.
"This feels... weird," Anya muttered, pulling her hood lower.
"It feels free," Lexa countered, her eyes darting around the bustling market street they had entered.
The lower district of Polis was alive. The air smelled of roasting meat, exotic spices brought from the southern trade routes, and fresh bread. Musicians played drums and reed flutes on street corners. Children ran through the crowds, weaving between the legs of merchants and warriors.
For the first time in their lives, Lexa and Anya were invisible. They weren't the leaders everyone respected and was nervous around; they were just three people in a crowd.
Mike walked between them, linking his arms through theirs. He guided them through the chaos, pointing out small details — a weaver making a vibrant tapestry, a blacksmith crafting a toy soldier for a child, a baker pulling steaming loaves from a clay oven.
They stopped at a stall selling grilled skewers of spiced meat. The vendor, a jovial man with a thick beard, smiled at them.
"Fresh from the hunt!" he boomed. "Best in Polis! Three trade tokens for a bundle!"
Mike handed over the tokens he had swiped from the treasury. He took three skewers, the meat glistening with fat and herbs.
"Thank you," Mike said.
He handed one to Lexa and one to Anya. They looked at the food, then at the crowded street.
"We cannot eat with the masks on," Lexa whispered.
"So we find a quiet spot," Mike said.
He led them down a narrow alleyway that opened into a small, secluded courtyard behind a dye shop. It was empty, filled with drying racks of colorful fabric that fluttered in the breeze, creating a private sanctuary.
They pulled down their scarves.
Lexa took a bite of the meat. Her eyes widened. "It's... sweet."
"Honey glaze," Mike said, watching her face light up. "It's good, right?"
"It is incredible," Anya admitted, tearing into hers with less grace but equal enthusiasm. She licked a drop of grease from her thumb, her eyes closing in simple pleasure. "I usually eat dried rations in the war room. I forgot food could taste like this."
Mike watched them eat, a sense of peace settling over him. Seeing the fierce Chief with sauce on her lip, seeing the Iron General humming with delight over a piece of meat — it was worth more than any victory.
Just then, a small door at the back of the shop opened. An old woman, bent with age, stepped out carrying a basket of wet cloth.
She froze when she saw them.
Her eyes went wide as she looked at the three strangers in her courtyard. She looked at Mike's white hair, which had slipped from his hood. She looked at Lexa's piercing green eyes. She looked at the scar on Anya's cheek.
The basket dropped from her hands.
"Heda?" the woman whispered, falling to her knees. "Strat Heda?"
Lexa stiffened, her hand instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't there.
But Mike moved first. He knelt in front of the old woman, gently picking up her basket. He placed a finger to his lips.
"Shhh," Mike said softly, winking at her. "We aren't here."
The woman looked at him, terrified and awestruck. Then she looked at Lexa, who offered a small, shy smile — a smile no one in the tower ever saw.
The woman understood. An understanding smirk formed on her lips. She nodded wildly, mimicking Mike's gesture. "No one is here. Just ghosts. Hungry ghosts."
She reached into her apron and pulled out three fresh apples. She pressed them into Mike's hands. "For the ghosts," she whispered.
"Thank you," Lexa said softly.
The woman bowed her head, tears in her eyes, and retreated into her shop, closing the door. She would tell her grandchildren this story for the rest of her life — the day the gods came to her garden and ate skewers like mortals.
They left the courtyard, laughing quietly, munching on the crisp apples.
The day passed in a blur of simple, perfect moments.
They watched a puppet show in the square that told the story of the First Commander coming down from the sky. Mike teased Lexa about the historical inaccuracies, making her giggle until she snorted, which made Anya laugh so hard she had to lean against a wall.
They found a merchant selling polished stones and jewelry. Mike bought a silver bracelet for Anya, etched with a wolf, and a pendant of green jade for Lexa. He put them on them right there in the street, his fingers lingering on their skin.
"To remember today," he said.
"We won't forget," Anya whispered, touching the cool metal at her wrist.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of violet and gold, they found themselves walking toward the outer walls. The city noise faded behind them as they climbed the ruins of the western gate.
They sat on the edge of the stone wall, their legs dangling over the side, looking out over the vast, rolling plains of Trikru territory. The wind was cooler here, carrying the scent of the coming rain.
Mike sat in the middle, his arms wrapped around both of them. Anya rested her head on his left shoulder, her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him. Lexa leaned against his right side, her hand interlaced with his, playing with his fingers.
For a long time, no one spoke. They just watched the sun dip below the horizon, setting the world on fire one last time before the dark.
"It's beautiful," Lexa murmured, her voice soft and sleepy.
"It is," Mike agreed. He looked at the landscape — the land he had sworn to protect.
"Do you think we can handle it?" Anya asked quietly. The Chief had returned, just for a moment. "The Aztecs... they sound like the end of the world."
Mike tightened his grip on them. "We won't just handle it, Anya. We will break them."
He kissed the top of her head.
"We have the clans. We have the guns. We have the AI. But more importantly..."
He looked at Lexa, then at Anya.
"We have this."
He gestured to the three of them — a knot of love and loyalty that defied the brutal logic of their world.
"This is what we are fighting for," Mike said, his voice fierce and low. "Not land. Not power. This. The right to sit on a wall and watch the sun go down without fear. The right to eat apples and laugh. The right to be happy."
Lexa looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Even after this long, it's hard to believe that we came so far. I never thought I would have this again. After Costia... I thought love was weakness."
"Love is fuel," Mike corrected. "It's the only thing that burns hotter than hate."
Anya lifted her head, looking at him with a fierce intensity. "Then let them come. Let the Aztecs march. We will meet them with fire."
Mike smiled. "That's my girl."
He pulled them closer as the first stars began to appear in the twilight sky.
"We will get through this," Mike promised, his voice a vow to the universe. "I don't care what comes from the south. As long as we stand together, we win."
Lexa squeezed his hand. Anya rested her hand over his heart.
"Together," they whispered in unison.
And there, on the wall of the city at the edge of the world, the Heda, the Chief, and the Strat Heda watched the night fall, ready to face the dawn of war.
++++++++++++++++++++
END OF VOLUME 2!!! HOW DID YOU LIKE THIS ARC, LET ME KNOW.
WAR IS ABOUT TO START!!!
--<<>>--
Hope you liked it😁
Plus if you want, you can read up to +10 chapters and support me you can alway join my P@treaon. (Just search up Joe_Mama p@treon on google.)