There are no orders when we arrive, everyone hops off the truck and heads towards an old battered building. I do a quick stretch and prepare take off after the others before Uriah places a hand on my shoulder. He holds me back as I watch the other corres break in through doors and windows.

  “Make your Oba proud,” Uriah shouts as the teams take off.

  “Did I do something wrong,” I ask.

  “No, I just want to increase your odds of victory.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those guys who are running in, with no plans, and nothing but a sack full of courage always end up getting themselves killed. You don’t need to be one of them.”

  I get it now; he would rather send other people in to fight his battles and wear out the enemy before he gets involved. It’s smart for him, but it’s cowardice. Tay says he’s a nice guy but anyone who sends in a bunch of people to die before he ever joins the fight isn’t a good man.

  We watch as the last of the corres vanish into the building, “you’re good to go,” Uriah says and pats me on the back.

  I take off at full speed, already having settled on going in through and upper entry point. There’s a ladder I spotted and nobody else used it. My first objective is trying to catch up to some of the others and hope the fighting hasn’t started. The ledge at the top of the ladder is wide enough that I don’t need to balance as I walk. The first window I come across is closed tight. I could try to find another, but time is important. I use the handle of my sword to break the window.

  Inside, I don’t hear any fighting, but I take it slow. I don’t want start any fights that I don’t have to. The entire place is filled with trinkets from the past. Old uniforms of soldiers. Not too different from what I’m wearing now. Guns seemed to play a big part of the wars in the past. I know what they are, and I know what they look like. I even know how they work, but they’re so rare I’ve never seen one in person. Supposedly people out here in the badlands make their own, but some Oba years ago banned them and most people agreed. There’s so much stuff here, I’d like to come back sometimes, but now I have to focus.

  A single guard watches a catwalk looking down at the rest of the museum. He doesn’t hear me, and he’s not paying any attention to anything other than what’s in front of him. I watch for a few moments from behind a wall, but he doesn’t make any moves and never looks in my direction. I quickly approach and place an arm around his neck, he struggles, but he’s not fast enough to stop me from locking my arms and he’s not strong enough to pry them apart. Soon he’s asleep on the ground. I could leave him, but we were told to leave no prisoners. I use my knife to quickly cut across his throat and move on.

  I can hear the sounds of fighting breaking out in the building. Swords clashing, and bodies being tossed around. I peer over the balcony but nothing has spilled out into the main part of the museum yet. I just keep moving forward. I’m not sure what I’m searching for, but I know if I find the leader and kill him, they’ll lose moral and the will to fight. If that’s the case, we won’t have as many casualties.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  The sounds of fighting get louder the deeper I go into the museum. I spot a man leaning over the balcony watching the fights below. He’s dressed better than the man I killed earlier, his face is cleaner as well. I wait to see if he’ll move, so I can determine my plan of attack. There’s a sword in a red and gold sheathe leaned against the balcony and even as the fight intensifies, he never reaches for it.

  “You don’t need to hide,” the man calls out. “I see you there, lurking in the shadows.” I still don’t move. “I just want to talk.”

  Everything I’ve been taught tells me to stay in hiding or lunge at him to kill him. Despite all the warning signs I step forward without drawing my own sword or even my knife.

  “Call off your men,” I state firmly but calmly.

  “It’s not that simple,” he responds just as calm.

  “Why not?”

  “Because my men are fighting for something they believe in. It’s hard to stop a man when he’s fighting for his beliefs. Now your men, are fighting for nothing but food, water, and comfort girls. Anyone can provide that. I’m trying to provide something more. Not just for man, but for all people.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Democracy.”

  “Never heard of it before.”

  “Democracy is the opposite of what we have here. Right now, we’ve got a bunch of little kings running around claiming territories and the people have no say. But with democracy, every man and even women have a say in how the territory is ran.”

  “Sounds nice, but it’s not a reality.”

  “Do you know why I chose this place?”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  “It’s full of information about how the world used to be. Democracy was a thing, and it was a beautiful thing all over the world. There are a lot of displays about it here. You should read them. The world was different. It was better. It can be better again. I’m sure you’ve seen a few displays in here. All the technology we’ve lost, the medicine, and what do we have to show for it. Fighting wars that don’t mean a damn thing for people like me and you.”

  It makes sense, the democracy part of what he’s saying. It’s not fair that we have no say in what goes on. Things might be different if the people had a say in what goes on. I could see why someone would believe in a thing like this, but I don’t think it could be done.

  “All in the service of some people running around playing kings and queens. They live in big houses in big forts with electricity and running water when most people could only dream of a working toilet. Only those skilled enough to make money can afford places in the areas still with electricity and plumbing. But somehow, they all get it working in those gaudy homes. A true leader is what we need.”

  “There it is,” I interrupt him. “You just want to be in charge.”

  “Only if that’s what the people decide.”

  The fighting below us has gotten closer. People are fighting right beneath us now. The feeling of falling takes over me before I realized I’ve been kicked in the chest, sent over the balcony. I hold my chin to my chest as best as I can before slamming into the ground. I take a big breath, trying to replace the air that just got knocked out of my body.

  Glancing up I watch as the man from the balcony leaps over, his feet together, aimed at my head. It takes everything I have to roll over out of the way. His feet hit the ground like thunder. He shouts out, “freedom,” a cry his men echo. One of our corres rushes him. In an instant he draws his sword from the new position his back and cuts the man down with one swift motion. Before I can get up from my back he points his sword at me.