Kilronan woke, already rolling from his bed as he focused on the shouts outside the building. He’d pulled on pants and boots, and was strapping on his knives when Osharon pounded on his door. “Kilronan! Red flare over administration!” He stepped back when Kil flung open the door, pulling his shirt over his head. In the small hours of the night, the protectorate had come alive with warriors rushing to duty stations. “Who’s got the Ambassador tonight?” Kil shouted while…..