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Mil Chevas was human once, as every city guardian was. Few hear the calling or have the opportunity to answer it, and she was in the right place at the right time when the previous guardian retired. She's been at her post for nearly 200 years. In all this time, the most she's had to protect her people from is storms off the sea, and lately she's been giving thought to retiring, herself.

Sample:
"I am the sword and the shield of my people. All who would do them harm will fall before my blade and break upon my walls."

Every guardian knew the words, an oath passed down to each new guardian as they took their place in the heart of their city. Few used them as the passcode they were anymore, but Mil Banre was nothing if not a traditionalist. Chevas had heard more than once that she'd been at her post for eight hundred years more than any of them except Mil Tallun, who was among the first to take on their duties.

"I am the watchful eye on the western shore, securing safe passage to the east," she said dutifully, and the flickering image of the older woman smiled.

"What news, Chevas?"

"Little enough," she answered. "The winter storms were gentle this year, at least along my stretch of coastline."

"News to be glad in," Banre remarked.

"What news from Banre?" she asked.

Mil Banre was not one to make idle converation -- or any conversation at all, in most cases. Her general silence had earned her a nickname in "the sleeping city," though no one had ever mentioned that to her.

"You heard news that Mil Salgren's city was lost last spring, and that she abandoned her people shamefully?"

"I heard that, yes," she said cautiously. The issue of Salgren's abandonment had been one hotly debated among the sister cities.

Banre chose not to press the matter. "Paston, too, has fallen under mysterious circumstances. Mil Rutarn bore witness and says it was as if the city itself vanished in a whirlwind."

"Why have I not heard this before today?" Chevas demanded.

"It happened but last eve. We have been contacting as many of the sister cities as we may."

She felt a hum of tension between her shoulderblades. Something was amiss in the city. She ignored it. "Then shall I assist? My reach along the coast is strong enough --"

"No, I have another task in mind for you. You knew Mil Salgren, did you not?"

"I -- yes. We were ... friends, if you wish."

The image flickered as she waved a dismissive hand. "Seek her out. When Paston fell, Rutarn said it was as though her connection to her city was snapped, and she fell senseless and was taken in the wind."

"Then --"

"It is possible, Chevas, that she did not abandon her people as we thought. We must know what happened. Find her and report to us immediately."

"Very well, Mil Banre. I -- shall begin my search at once."

The image of the older city vanished, and Chevas turned. The tension had ceased, replaced with a calm perhaps more worrisome. Who, she wondered, would watch her people while she was away?