ã€ŠRecord of Ashes Warã€‹


 Chapter 1: The Hunt

    <u>Chapter 1 - The Hunt</u>

    A steady breath. Narrowed eyes tunneled on the target. Sar''tara drew back her bowstring, muscles flexing, wood creaking.

    Just an inch more forward.

    She stared unblinking at a hare just beyond the thicket that hid her. Her first potential meal since the night before. Gnawing hunger sent pulses of impatience through her arms. Her aching thighs, crouched for so long, begged for rest. One more inch. One more and her shot would line up perfectly.

    The hare lowered its head, nibbling on shoots of grass. The glowing edges of a shade-wisp flower reflected a pale blue light within its beady eyes. Dusk had passed some time ago, bringing with it blooming everflowers that illuminated the forest floor. Their glowing petals would close again come sunrise.

    Sar''tara''s long held breath began paining her chest. She parted her lips for an exhale just as the hare moved that one inch forward. Twang! Not a second''s hesitation. The briefest of shrill squeals came from her prey as the bone tip of an arrowhead pierced its paltry hide. It collapsed. Sar''tara breathed, standing at last to relieve her thighs and knees.

    She pushed away the branches of the thicket to collect her prize. Carefully, she removed her arrow and wiped its red stained bone tip on the soft ferns growing around the roots of a young oak. Her stomach continued to growl as she took her meal back to her campfire in a clearing a hundred paces away. Sar''tara unsheathed one of two bone knives hidden beneath her knee length leather skirt. She sat down and began skinning the hare, relaxed and experienced fingers working swiftly. Finished, she discarded the pelt. It was too small to be of practical use.

    Sar''tara hung her meal on a spit and walked to a shallow river opposite her camp to rinse her hands. She paused at the edge of the bank, spotting a pair of dark eyes watching her from a distance. The eyes of a naiad, its body submerged in the river with only half its head poking out. It had been following Sar''tara for the past two days.

    She returned to her fire, hoping the naiad wouldn''t approach. Interactions with nymphs were seldom pleasant. Sar''tara let out an overdue yawn as she stretched her arms, unintentionally loosening the laces of her cropped deerskin pelt top. She bound it appropriately before leaning back against the trunk of a great willow, resting her thick braid of silky black hair over one shoulder.

    She gazed up at Illusterra''s three moons through the cracks in a deep green canopy. Blades of pale silver kissed the bronze of her skin. The calm of the forest was a breathless whisper. A calm accompanied by water running over smooth stones, rustling leaves, and the slight crackle of flames as the hare''s fat dripped down. Her fingers brushed over shoots of grass in idle occupation. Hanging fronds of the willow danced like loose strands of her hair. The sweet aroma of roasting meat made her stomach growl again. It was the only thing keeping her eyelids from rolling shut.

    Her brief respite was short lived. Serene silence was interrupted by a splash of water. Sar''tara stole a weary glance to her side as a pair of pattering footsteps drew nearer to her. The naiad came to stand before the small campfire, water rolling down her slender legs. She examined the flames from above before squatting down. Sar''tara didn''t say a word, though her brows furrowed slightly. The naiad picked up the discarded pelt with her wet hands and rubbed it against her face. She smiled at Sar''tara, orange flames dancing inside her large dark eyes. Her ropey black hair, wet, stuck to the pale blue skin of her bare body. "Soft," she said, still rubbing the pelt against her round cheeks.

    "Yes, I would imagine," Sar''tara responded, refusing eye contact.

    "Very soft."

    "Mhm."

    "I want it. I really, really want it," the naiad sang.

    "I have no use for it," Sar''tara said, tapping an impatient finger against her leg.

    The naiad cocked her head to the side, lips curling further. "She says she doesn''t need it! Then can I truly have it? I really, really want it!"

    Sar''tara frowned. Amongst the many curious habits of nymphs, asking redundant questions was one of them. It was a habit that annoyed her to no end. "Yes. You can have it."

    "Can I have this too?" the creature asked, pointing to the roasting hare. "If yes, I''ll say I love you!"

    "No."

    "But¡ª"

    "No!"

    The naiad pouted. She sat before the fire, pressing her bare rear against the dampened ground before her feet. Sar''tara clicked her tongue, hoping for the unwelcome company to leave soon. The blue skinned creature stared at her garments. "Are those soft too?"

    "You most certainly will not be getting my clothing," Sar''tara said, scowling. She tucked in her knees as if to further prove her point.

    The naiad puffed her cheeks. "Mean. She is mean. Very mean. Doesn''t give me what I want."

    "I gave you the pelt for free," Sar''tara pointed out, flashing a glare.

    "But I want more! Wait. You said free? Then can I have that for a trade?" the naiad asked, pointing back at the roasting hare. The melody in her voice had disappeared.

    Sar''tara''s eyes narrowed. "Trade?" This was the first she was hearing of bargaining with a nymph. Nymphs were created daughters of the Forest Deity, Ny''Danis. Creatures made from either water or soil. Those of water were of pale blue skin; naiads. Those of soil were of pale green skin; dryads. They were impartial to Ny''Danis'' birthed daughters, the Vashiri tribeswomen, typically only showing themselves for trivial selfish desires. Or to play pranks. "What manner of trade?"

    "I know. I know, I know, I know! Sar''tara must return to her tribe tomorrow. Your three days of hunting are over. Someone else will try in your place. I know it all! You will return to the Selharr tribe empty handed. But give me this, and I will lead you to a wild boar! I saw one. Before you sat here. Before you started a fire. I saw one on the other side of the river," the naiad finished, the song in her voice returning just as abruptly as it''d ended.

    Sar''tara''s eyebrows went up. She sucked in a breath, leaning in and now fully awake. Her growling stomach and that tempting aroma of meat gave her pause, but for only a second. A boar was too prestigious a prey to pass up. She couldn''t risk having it fall into a competing tribe''s hands.

    The Vashiri peoples were separated into three tribes; The Selharr, the M?khain, and the Kreiva. Sar''tara was of the Selharr tribe ¡ªa tribe of fifty women. The M?khain were of similar number while the Kreiva, the most prideful of the three, numbered near three hundred women. Each tribe''s huntresses competed with each other for the Forest Deity''s favor. Once every three days, a member of each tribe set out to hunt for their people, competing for large animals within the Papillion Forest. "A boar you said. How big?"

    The naiad went down on all fours. She mimicked a four legged animal and then held up two fingers at the corners of her mouth to imitate a boar''s tusks. "About this big. But bigger belly than me. Much bigger."

    Sar''tara shook her head. It didn''t seem very large. Nymphs were barely chest height when compared to the average huntress. "Show me."

    The naiad sat back down. She plucked a white flower from the ground, inspecting its glowing yellow pistils. "Only if you give me that," she said, pointing at the hare again.

    More redundancy. "Of course I''ll give you that. But you''d better hurry or it''ll burn before you get back here." Sar''tara stood up. She stumbled, her body weak from hunger. She glanced at the everflower in the naiad''s hands. A kresip flower. Its white petals held a powerful, though dangerous stimulant. Mixed with other plants, it could create an energizing medicine. Eaten raw, it would provide a fleeting boost of strength, bringing about terrible and twisting pain within half a day.

    Sar''tara clenched her fists. There could be no half measures. She had been raised to become a Guardian of the forest. It was what all birthed daughters of Ny''Danis strived to achieve. She would give anything for that. Anything to see her beloved Mother again, whom she had not seen in fifteen years. Prestigious prey were rare. If Sar''tara failed her hunt, she would get another chance within a few months. But it could be years before she came across a prey worthy of being hunted. The last time had been near eight years prior, when she''d been fourteen.

    She searched the area for more kresips, their glowing pistils making them an easy find. Nine petals would be enough to last the night.

    The naiad watched with her head tilted, one finger upon her lip. "That is bitter. Not tasty. Bitter and dangerous. Why does she eat these?"

    "Because I need to," Sar''tara said, chewing. She reconsidered, thinking of spitting out the petals. The after effect was expected to be devastating. She clutched her chest and swallowed the bitterness down. A small price to avoid years of heartache without her Mother.

    The naiad jumped back into the river, motioning for Sar''tara to follow. She strapped her quiver to her back and ran along the riverbank. She had ten arrows. Nine too many. She had absolute confidence in her skills. The bottom of the quiver was doused in a numbing poison. It was harmless to consume and needed to enter the bloodstream to take effect. Useless on small animals like a hare. But for a boar, it would be vital. Especially if it was a fully grown male.

    Sar''tara already had Ny''Danis'' favor for hunting down a bear during her coming of age ceremony eight years prior. Bringing back a boar would all but guarantee the opportunity to see her beloved Mother again as well as take the Guardian Trials. And passing the Trials would allow her to stay by her Mother''s side for her remaining life.

    The naiad stopped moving. It poked its head out of the water. Sar''tara came to a halt as well, crouching behind a thicket and nocking an arrow on her bow. "It was here. I know it was. I saw it!"

    "Hush," Sar''tara whispered. Her hawk-like vision caught movement a fair ways off on the opposite side of the river. Fireflies in the distance added to the dim illumination of the forest floor. They suddenly scattered. Sar''tara caught sight of the boar''s snout. She smiled. It was big. Bigger than the naiad had made it out to be. A Tricora Boar. It had a sharp bone protruding from its skull to complement the curved tusks at the sides of its mouth. Sar''tara''s heart raced. Her fingers twitched. Her legs trembled with an urge to burst out in a sprint and waste her newfound strength. The effects of the kresip flower were beginning to show. "Go back and eat what you wanted," Sar''tara ordered in a whisper.

    The naiad sank below the water again, her blue skin making her near invisible. Sar''tara stepped into the river, its water cool against her bare feet. She put away her arrow and bow and began crossing. At its deepest, the water reached the base of her neck. She swam across, trying her hardest to keep her head above the surface and eyes peeled for any signs of movement. Bushes occasionally rustled and sharp cracks of snapping twigs accompanied. Once out of the water, she tiptoed to where she''d seen the group of fireflies before. They still hovered around the general area.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Sar''tara had lost sight of the boar. It did not trouble her. Hunting was a game of patience. The boar''s tracks were still noticeable. She followed them further into the woods, stepping lightly as tickling droplets of water rolled down her sides. The old oaks surrounding her seemed all the more imposing in the dark. The thumping in her heart became a great drum. She feared the riotous sound would give away her position.

    She at last spotted her prey resting in a small clearing, moonlight bearing down on its dark fur. Sar''tara crept closer. The boar''s head was turned away from her. She could have easily landed an arrow in the creature''s leg. But that would entail chasing it down and she wasn''t certain of how much longer her borrowed time would last. She planned to kill with her first shot. Then would come the task of dragging the animal back to her tribe before the kresip high expired.

    Sar''tara silently edged around the clearing, searching for her prey''s throat. It was where the boar''s hide was thinnest. Once in position, she drew back her bowstring once more. The slight rustling of leaves to her left gave her pause. Her gaze flickered towards the sound. A rock flew out from behind a thick bush and struck the boar''s side. It wasn''t meant to damage the creature, but rather alert it. Sar''tara''s heart skipped a beat. Her panicked eyes snapped back and forth between her prey and the sound. She couldn''t fathom who would possibly be stupid enough to do such a thing.

    Someone hindering my hunt?

    The Tricora, now angered, stared at the direction from where the rock had come, a slight red tint in its eyes leaving a thin trail as it moved its head. Another object flew out ¡ªthis time a pebble. The boar charged in the general direction, head low and horn first. Sar''tara heard a howl from within the bushes as a beastly woman burst into the clearing and ran at the charging boar. She had her arms outstretched and caught the animal by its tusks before the sharp horn managed to impale her chest. They both stood in a stalemate, pushing against each other.

    "No!" Sar''tara breathed as her reactive fingers stretched the bowstring further, causing the wood of her bow to creak. Another hunter. One of the Kreiva Vashiri. Their tribe boasted great physical strength and hunted without the use of weaponry. And each of them peaked near seven feet in height.

    Sar''tara fired an arrow at her competitor, making sure that it would graze the woman''s muscular thigh. The Kreivan flinched, causing the boar to win the pushing contest. She fell on her back, her thick black bun cushioning her head from a heavy impact. The boar trampled over her. It turned back around, preparing for a second charge. The woman sneered at the beast and turned in the direction from where the arrow had come.

    Sar''tara nocked another. First to the kill had full rights of claiming the animal. She predicted the moment of the boar''s rush and fired the arrow, expecting it to pierce the target''s throat. The Kreivan lunged to the side of the animal and deflected the arrow with unbelievable reflexes. She winced in pain, clenching her teeth as the boar''s sharp tusk grazed her side, leaving a pink flesh mark that soon pooled red. A daring move as was the norm with Kreiva Vashiri.

    "Leave, Selharri!" the woman called. "This is my prey!"

    Sar''tara stepped into the clearing. She knew it to be a mistake, but she had her own pride to defend. If she was to be a Guardian, fear was the last thing she dared to feel. "The kill belongs to the killer!" she declared. She sucked in air through her teeth. Sweat had gathered at her brow. She nocked her third arrow. Eight remaining shots.

    The larger woman clenched her fists and flexed the thick muscles in her arm. Her attention was stolen by the boar as it charged her once more. She lowered her center of gravity, preparing to receive the charge. Her hands caught the animal by the tusks again. Sar''tara drew back, not wanting to let the chance go to waste. The Kreivan huntress roared as she twisted her body and forced the boar to change directions with sheer strength alone. Sar''tara winced, feet shuffling back as her prey''s attention was now focused on her. She hastily loosed an arrow, string scraping her inner forearm, before leaping to the side. Her arrow found the boar''s skull. Its thickest part. It was firmly stuck there beside the horn, but it wasn''t nearly enough to kill.

    At least the poison is in its blood now.

    But would that work in her favor? Or would that slow the animal down enough for her competitor to smash its head before Sar''tara found the perfect shot?

    She nocked her fourth arrow. Seven more. She barely caught sight of her competitor running towards her. She was tackled to the ground before she could react. The back of her head struck the ground hard. She blinked as a thick, bruised fist came down towards her face. She managed to wedge an arm in between.

    Sar''tara gasped as her forearm cracked, either broken or fractured. The woman prepared to strike again. Sar''tara swallowed and shut her eyes as both her arms covered her face. She thrashed with her legs and hip, trying to push the heavier woman off. The Kreivan jumped away before striking as the boar was coming in for another charge. Sar''tara''s eyelids snapped open. She rolled away, narrowly avoiding a sharp tusk. Fierce pain shot through her damaged arm. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

    "Leave now, Selharri! Or I swear by our Mother, I will kill you!" the woman declared, ripping an arrow out of her thigh. It had pierced her when she had tackled Sar''tara.

    The Kreivan woman was strong. Sar''tara coughed, slowly picking herself up. She had expected her opponent to have already been paralyzed by the poison from the first grazing arrow. She blinked away her tears and glared at her competitor, not having the breath to reply in kind, but displaying her fighting spirit in full. The Kreivan crouched low and prepared for another tackle. Sar''tara shuffled back, the memory of those cudgel like fists weighing down her normally quick reflexes.

    The Kreivan ran forward but fell flat on her face before having taken three steps. The numbing poison had finally taken effect. Sar''tara let out a sigh of relief, heart pounding. Just for good measure, she fired an arrow at the woman''s knee joint, poisoning her further while also disabling her. The woman cried out, more so in anger than in agony.

    With her competitor out of the way, Sar''tara finally turned her attention to the boar. A worried frown settled on her face as she drew her sixth arrow. The skill of a huntress was not solely judged by the prey she caught, but also the manner in which she returned. Sar''tara would be expected to report the amount of shafts required to fell her prey. What started as nine shots too many was now four too many. No amount of excuses would cover for such a failure. The Selharr hunted with the bow and the bow alone. They prided themselves in supreme accuracy and six arrows for a single prey was a stain on not only the hunter''s pride, but the entirety of the tribe as well.

    Sar''tara deftly sidestepped the boar''s lumbering charge, an arrow still protruding out of its forehead. She fired her sixth, reveling in the soft twang as the projectile left her fingers, and watched it puncture the creature''s throat at just the perfect section. The windpipe had been pierced. The animal walked around slowly, wheezing as it did so. The red tint within its dark eyes dimmed to oblivion. Its eyelids drooped in fear. Sar''tara unsheathed one of her bone knives and waited for the boar to collapse for its final respite. She at last approached, still breathing heavily, though with a worn smile brought on by her eventual success.

    "No! That''s my kill!" a deep voice roared as Sar''tara''s knife slit the boar''s throat. Failed huntresses of the Kreiva Vashiri tribe, with their larger population, would have to wait over a year before their turn to hunt came again.

    Forgive me sister, but my desire to see our beloved Mother again is greater than yours.

    "Curse you Selharri! I will not forgive you for this!" the Kreivan continued.

    Sar''tara ignored the paralyzed loser''s pleas. Her heart still drummed against her chest despite the hunt having ended. The kresip flower high would soon begin to fade. Now came the grueling task of dragging the large boar back to her tribe before noon the following day. She didn''t have time to wait for the animal to bleed out. She grabbed the boar by its tusks with a backhand grip and headed back down the direction from where she came.

    The boar''s blood stained the forest floor. Flowers were mowed and bent out of shape as Sar''tara dragged it along. The veins in her well trained thighs bulged with each laboring step she took. Her stomach growled again. Weakness returned to her muscles, making each step feel heavier than the last. Her borrowed time was coming to an end. The impending recoil of the flower''s effects nagged at the back of her mind. She hoped it wouldn''t be as bad as her elder sisters claimed it to be. Her damaged left forearm ached terribly.

    Sar''tara grit her teeth and endured. She needed to show strength before her elder sisters to dissuade them from weighing her failures too heavily. Sar''tara, who was the pride of the Selharr for having hunted a bear at the age of fourteen, had wasted six arrows in the hunting of a boar. A competing huntress made for a poor excuse. She could have easily killed the boar prior to the Kreivan attacking it. But she had settled for immobilizing the Kreivan woman instead.

    Why? Why did I do that?

    Sar''tara knew why. But she didn''t want to admit it. She was afraid. Afraid that the beastly woman would attack her for attaining the kill. So she had decided to poison her competitor before revealing herself. She tried not to think about it, though pushing the thought away entirely proved too difficult.

    Sar''tara arrived at the river after what seemed like an eternity. She pulled the boar into the water, struggling to move it and herself any further. The added resistance of the flowing current was too much to bear. On the opposite end of the riverbank sat the naiad. Sar''tara wasn''t certain if it was the same one. All nymphs were nameless and looked very much alike to each other. But she saw the edges of the naiad''s mouth caked in fat. Fat of the plump hare she had been roasting. The nymph smiled at her. Her dark eyes sparkled like a pair of onyx gems under the light of the three moons in the sky.

    "Do you need help? Does Sar''tara need help?"

    "Oh, I don''t know. Do I look like I need help?" she responded. Sarcasm was lost on nymphs. But Sar''tara was too annoyed to blatantly ask for help.

    "You look like you need help. Do you need help?"

    "For the love of Ny''Danis, yes! If I look like I need help then why not just help me?"

    "Because maybe you don''t need help? But you said yes. So I will help!"

    The naiad placed her hands in the water. The direction of the current changed. A rising pressure grew from beneath Sar''tara. She was pushed to the surface along with her hunt before being moved across the river. She sucked in a breath, just as awed by the wondrous magic of nymphs as when she''d first seen it as a child. As wondrous as the nature bending powers of Ny''Danis. Though, not amusing enough for her to dally any further. She muttered a thanks and moved on, the naiad''s humming voice fading with every passing second.

    The sounds of crickets followed Sar''tara for a long while, eventually disappearing and being replaced by the chirping of birds. Amber blades of light pierced through the forest canopy. Sar''tara kept her eyes forward, seeking familiar territory. When younger, she had used stars to memorize her path back home. But having lived in the Papillion Forest all her life, she had learned to call occurrences such as large trees to isolated thickets to a patch of everflowers landmarks. She could tell that she was nearing the Selharr village. The pain in her left forearm helped to ignore the growing weight of her legs. Her insides began to sting as if being roasted. The recoil was beginning.

    Sar''tara found herself coughing every once in a while. She could taste the iron of her blood at the back of her throat. Her dry coughs became wet ones. Her heartbeat began to slow. Her chest ached with every beat. It was a radiating pain that spread out in thin lines as if her very arteries had been torn. But she wasn''t afraid of the pain. She wasn''t afraid of dying. She was afraid of her failures. Afraid that all she had accomplished in the night wouldn¡¯t be enough for the Forest Mother. Afraid that her elder sisters wouldn¡¯t even permit an audience with Ny''Danis due to the wasted arrows.

    Everflowers closed, their glowing lights gone and replaced by an abundance of verdant foliage eager to bask in the morning''s radiance. Sar''tara''s stomach growled again. Hunger, however, was the least of her worries. Blood mingled phlegm rolled down her chin and biting cold seeped into her limbs.

    The Selharr village came into view. A sizeable clearing surrounded by skyward reaching elms. A village of just ten wooden huts with five people per. Five huts for girls fourteen and under and five for the adult women. Sar''tara''s sisters cried out in joy when they spotted her and the beast she carried in tow. She managed a weak smile. It drained her of most of her remaining strength. She had made it.

    Almost.

    She laboured further, her legs feeling so very heavy. Her younger sisters stood on the outskirts of the village, cheering, encouraging. The older ones watched her with proud eyes. Few had doubtful eyes when noticing her terrible condition. They all just stood as Sar''tara got closer and closer to the village, each step slower than the last. The entire front of her neck was now painted with blood that had rolled down. Tears came out of her eyes. It made them sting terribly and her vision blurred. They were tears of red. She wanted to scream for help. But she no longer had the ability of doing so. None of her sisters rushed to her aid.

    Sar''tara recalled the irony of her own words. She needed help. Looked every bit a dying person. But no one was helping her. Because this was her hunt. Her task. She had yet to complete it. She had yet to enter her village along with the boar she had dragged through the night. To help her would be to dishonor her. It would end whatever hopes she had of becoming a Guardian.

    The picture of her village was fixated in her mind all morning. No matter how many steps she took, she didn''t seem to get any closer. She had been shuffling forward instead of stepping. A fact she remained oblivious to. Most of her elder sisters had disappeared to do whatever tasks needed doing. The younger ones remained, their words of encouragement continuing.

    Sar''tara was on the cusp of noon when she finally made it within the borders of the village. She wanted to collapse ¡ªneeded to, in fact. She could hardly see anything. Could hardly smell or hear. Or feel. The only function she was aware of was that of her own thoughts. Even her heartbeats were too soft and shallow to make out. Regardless, she stood tall and proud. She pressed a firm fist against her breasts. Firm in her mind, but loose in reality.

    Blood in her eyes eclipsed her vision. Sar''tara fainted in an upright position. It was not until a mellow breeze nudged her that she finally collapsed.

 Chapter 2: The Decision

    <u>Chapter 2 - Decision</u>

    "Breathe," whispered a voice. "Don''t move. Don''t think. Just breathe."

    Everything was dark. Nothing made sense. Sar''tara only had the consciousness to think. She thought that she had died. Thought that she was just a drifting spirit hearing things.

    "Breathe," the voice said again, like a morning dew drop gliding across the surface of a blossoming petal. A soothing melody, as was Ny''Danis'' voice. "Breathe."

    "Yes Mother," she replied.

    "I did not tell you to speak! I told you to breathe!" The voice had suddenly turned somewhat annoying and slightly higher pitched. Sar''tara knew who it belonged to. "If you can speak, you''ll be alright. It is because of Mother''s blessing that you live. Had you been a normal human, you would have died before the sun rose. Your heart is beating better now, though far from normal. Your eyes don''t look to have permanent damage. You should be able to see again by morning."

    "My insides hurt, Sister Stel''Na. Breathing hurts."

    "Don''t speak! Just breathe. Blessed Ny''Danis, you are as reckless as you are brave. Your hunt, successful though it may have been, may have brought shame upon the Selharr Vashiri. The manner in which you returned was ill to say the least. Let alone the six missing arrows from your quiver. Two are stuck to the boar. You understand that providing our huntresses with more than a single arrow is a mere formality, yes? It is to hone the mind. It is there as a temptation to avoid. The Selharr always accomplish their hunts with a single arrow alone. You''ve brought back a prestigious prey, making you eligible to sit before the council. But these are all factors we will consider when the council decides on whether to send you to Mother Ny''Danis."

    "I know," Sar''tara mumbled, feeling a clay lump in her throat. She didn''t know the kresip recoil would be so potent. "I met a Kr¡ª"

    "I told you not to speak! Just focus on breathing!"

    "But¡ª"

    "But nothing!" Stel''Na said. "Just because I asked you a question, it doesn''t mean you must respond."

    Sar''tara didn¡¯t have the strength to be annoyed. Speaking to the eldest Selharri sister was often similar to conversing with a nymph. But being the eldest, Stel''Na also commanded the most respect. The only living Selharr to have become a Guardian. She had already served her tenure and had retired back to the village to teach the young instead of staying by the Forest Deity''s side.

    It had been years since any from the Selharr had become a Guardian. Sar''tara was one of their greatest hopes. Tears gathered behind her closed eyes. Her poor condition would rob her sisters of some of that hope. The Kreiva with their brute strength made up the vast majority of Guardians. The M?khain with their mastery of the spear, always had at least a few representatives.

    "You are twenty-two by the lunar years, Sar''tara. Surely you are not weaker than when you felled a bear at fourteen. You cannot pass the Guardian Trials by being reckless. Nor can Guardians protect the forest in that manner. Though, there hasn''t been a large invasion since before my tenure. Regardless, petty thieves seeking to steal Mother''s Artifacts come often and can be quite crafty. Remember, the essence of a hunter is patience. We will further speak on the matter at a later time." Stel''Na left her alone, having completed the treatment.

    Mina, one of the younger sisters, came to see her every once in a while to feed her a hot and bitter liquid. Sar''tara longed to eat something solid. She wanted to eat the boar she''d killed. But boars smelled and needed a lot of time under the fire to be palatable. She imagined the luscious taste of dripping fat inside a boar belly roasted with wild garlic shoots to keep her thoughts away from her failures. It also kept her up all night, the unfading bitter aftertaste of the medicinal liquid mingling with her unrelenting salivation.

    Sar''tara began to catch glimpses of her surroundings as day replaced night. The edges of her vision remaining slightly blurred. She pulled herself out from beneath a layer of fur blankets. Her entire innards screamed at her. She tried standing but fell to her knees, swallowing air in gulps. She stared at the cool dirt floor while on all fours until the pain began to ease. Droplets fell from her eyes. They''ll never let me see Mother like this.

    Her left arm stung as if it had been bit by angered ants. Some manner of salve had been applied to the black and blue section where the Kreivan woman had struck her. Memories of a dark callused fist looming over her face made Sar''tara shudder. Kreiva Vashiri were known to shatter the bones of their prey with their fists alone. Whilst the Selharr and M?khain Vashiri practiced the arts of stealth hunting, the Kreiva mastered the art of provoking their prey.

    Sar''tara dragged herself out of the hut, slowly getting used to the immense pain. She was greeted by the sight of her excited younger sisters. A successful hunt was a cause for celebration. But she''d been incapacitated for nearly a full day, delaying any festivities. She spotted Stel''Na a short ways off, teaching little Tavi, a girl of eight and the youngest Selharr, how to appropriately hold a bow. Stel''Na''s dark hair had strands of silver in it, giving her aged face a mature beauty.

    The eldest glanced at Sar''tara. It was difficult tell if her eyes carried disappointment or praise. On one hand, Sar''tara shouldn''t have been walking around in such a damaged state. On the other hand, she was walking around in such a damaged state. Come evening, the fourteen eldest sisters of the Selharr tribe would decide whether she was worthy enough to meet the Forest Mother.

    Sar''tara kept up a steady breathing rhythm whilst walking through the village. She slowly increased her pace, bare feet pattering on dry earth, getting more and more comfortable as the pain within began to subside. Despairing thoughts threatened to consume her, forcing her to the brink of tears many a time as she walked in silent solitude. She pushed aside each devouring attempt, trying to show her elder sisters that she was fit and not incapacitated.

    Sar''tara hadn''t seen her Mother in over fifteen years. Some of her older sisters had gone on longer as their hunts did not prove fruitful. She could see the dimming light within their eyes as they slowly realized that their prime had passed and that they may never get to see their Mother again. Sar''tara didn''t want that. Her heart ached when even considering the possibility of forgoing seeing Ny''Danis forever.

    Small everflowers had grown where drops of Sar''tara''s blood had fallen the day before. Stalky green stems no higher than her shins, all of them with their petals closed. Night bloomers that glowed after dusk among which were kresips, shade-wisps, tornas and sitrils. Spilt blood of the Forest Deity gave rise to beautiful new life. Life that never withered unless intentionally uprooted or killed. A memory of Ny''Danis'' beauty and glory to serve as a constant reminder ¡ªand create an everlasting longing for her daughters.

    Ny''Danis'' grove was in the center of the Papillion Forest a mere half day''s jog away from the three Vashiri tribes around it. But only Guardians and Guardian candidates were allowed entry. Sar''tara examined the closed everflowers from above. Just a little more. A little more and I''ll glow come nightfall too. Daughters of the Forest Deity had strong recovery abilities. The bruising in her arm had subsided significantly. She could only hope that it would be enough.

    Sar''tara glanced up as another''s shadow reached her toes. Freya, one of the members of the Selharr council, approached with a wooden bowl in hand, steam rising from within. She wore an easy smile as she handed the bowl to Sar''tara, who winced when catching the smell of the bitter medicine soup. She took a large sip, swirling the liquid around in her mouth while examining the taste. "Hmm. Silkweed, devil''s claw, a hint of garlic and¡­"

    Sar''tara nearly vomited but held it in as she met Freya''s eyes. She needed to make a positive impression on one of the council members. Sar''tara looked into her wooden bowl, scowling. There were small solid items inside greyish liquid. Hardly noticeable. She dipped a finger and picked one out. "And cricket legs," she finished. Freya nodded her approval. Sar''tara pinched her nose and gulped the liquid down in one go, fearing that she would vomit if she dwelled on the matter for too long.

    Freya maintained her easy smile, holding out a hand to retrieve the empty bowl. "You have a strong nose and tongue if you can deduce ingredients that easily. I''d say you were half animal if you weren''t so beautiful, Tara."

    Sar''tara stuck her tongue out and shivered in a futile attempt to rid herself of the aftertaste. "The title of most beautiful belongs to you, Sister Freya," she replied truthfully, though with ulterior motives.

    The older woman smiled, her dimples showing clearly. She pushed her freely flowing dark hair over one shoulder. "I''ll be forty in a few short years. This skin of mine will start to bear marks." She tilted her head and studied Sar''tara. "I''m envious of your sharp nose. The hallmark of a leader, or so it has been said. Sister Stel''Na and Kiali are the only other Selharr with a sharp nose."

    Sar''tara blushed. "I''m not worthy of such compliments."

    "Perhaps. Perhaps not. The younger ones look up to you. Take Mina for example. She turns fourteen soon. Her first hunt, her coming of age ceremony, is in seven days. She''s been doing nothing but proclaiming that she''ll hunt a bear just as you did at that age. Well, she has been a little quiet since you''ve returned." Freya flashed a wink. There was a slight twinkle in her earthly oak eyes. She turned to leave. "Rest well, Tara. The boar will add nicely to our dried food stores, and will be a nice change of pace from the deer or beavers your sisters normally hunt. I will pray to Mother for your good fortune in tonight''s decision."

    Sar''tara couldn''t help but continue wearing a smile. Freya had managed to calm her, which Sar''tara half suspected was the intent all along. At least one person was on her side.

    ***

    Fires in the sky signalled the day''s end. The sun sank behind the horizon, its last light being held by scattered clouds. Given the lunar cycles, Sar''tara expected three half-moons to shine in the sky. Illusterra''s three moons, Vega, Elaina and Leona. Each with their own cycle length. Elaina''s was thirty days ¡ªthe most commonly used moon to measure time. Vega''s cycle was fifteen whilst Leona, the largest, only showed her full self once every year.

    Sar''tara massaged her damaged forearm while tapping an impatient foot against the ground. Her eyes scanned the faces of the council members, jumping from head to head, trying to glean any amount of information. It was time for her decision to be made. A ritualistic moment for the Vashiri peoples. She was dressed in her most boastful clothing. All huntresses were expected to wear their trophies on decision night.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Around her shoulders hung a heavy cloak made from bear fur. The top half of the animal''s skull rested on her head, its massive fangs running down the sides of her temples. Her dark hair had been split evenly and hung over the fronts of both shoulders. The necklace she wore placed a heavy weight against her collar bones. They held the bottom two fangs of a bear and two recently added boar tusks. Bracelets of wolf fangs decorated her upper arms, adding to her dauntless charm. The remainder of her clothes remained the same.

    Sar''tara stood tall, shoulders thrown back, chest puffed out. Her body was far from in an ideal condition, but she had recovered enough to at least draw back a bow. She clenched her fists. The decision will go in my favor. It has to!

    A high pitched horn sounded. The Selharr formed two lines, adults on one side and children on the other. At the end of the line was a campfire around which the eldest fourteen sisters sat. Stel''Na motioned for Sar''tara to approach. She walked between the two lines with her head held high. She could see the expressions of amazement as all her other sisters saw her in her full glory. Saw all of her trophies. It was the most a single woman had ever worn in the history of the Selharr. Sar''tara sat down before the council, wearing a proud smile, setting an example for her younger siblings.

    "Name yourself, daughter of the forest," Stel''Na said.

    "Sar''tara Vashiri, daughter of Ny''Danis, huntress of the Selharr," she said, back straight and voice clear.

    "Huntress Sar''tara. Yesterday, you returned after a successful hunt. You slew an adult male boar. A Tricora Boar. Its weight more than three times your own. A feat worthy enough to allow you to sit before this council. I congratulate you for this."

    "Thank you, Sister Stel''Na."

    "You make us proud, Sar''tara, for returning in a timely manner despite your condition," another woman said. Kiali, the tallest of the Selharr and four years Sar''tara''s elder ¡ªalso the youngest on the council. A woman who strictly hunted wolves due to her hatred of the creatures. Her smooth black hair was always bound close to her head, creating a silken tail that reached her waist. She had two bone tooth necklaces and a single bracelet with small fangs. Everyone knew her to be worthy of meeting the Forest Mother. But wolves hunted in packs and were known to be elusive at times, causing Kiali to fail her hunts often.

    "But¡­" Kiali continued. Sar''tara''s heart sank as soon as Kiali said that word. "That does not change the fact that you returned yesterday. This meeting has been delayed by a full day."

    Sar''tara closed her eyes to hide the panic within them. It was a valid point that she couldn''t argue against. She nodded, maintaining her outward calm.

    "But she was walking around easily this morning despite being damaged by the effects of kresips," Stel''Na noted.

    "I''m afraid I cannot take that as a positive sign, eldest sister," Kiali replied. "The only other person reckless enough to have consumed raw kresip was you, back when you were near our age. This was before the vast majority of us were born even. You''ve warned us of its effects, and thus we obeyed. But the rest of us do not know the extent of damage it causes and thus cannot make a sound judgement on the matter."

    The other members nodded, agreeing with Kiali''s wisdom.

    Sar''tara felt her chances lower. She couldn''t hate Kiali for being sound. Though she clenched her teeth regardless.

    "If we are to be judges, we ought to have knowledge of all matters," Freya said. She was the second oldest. Freya had a weak frame by Vashiri standards and was the sole person to never desire the seat of a Guardian. Her general knowledge of the forest''s flora and care for the others in the village had earned her nearly as much respect as the eldest. She was the Selharr''s moral support and a replacement Mother to many younger than her.

    Sar''tara stole a glance towards Freya. Their eyes met and Sar''tara looked away almost instantly. There had been a time when she was a child and she would lay her head in a younger Freya''s lap, who at the time was a near spitting image of Ny''Danis'' beauty. But it wasn''t fair to silently ask for Freya''s help. The council was to be impartial. But still. Sar''tara stole another glance.

    "Since Sister Stel''Na knows the recoil of kresip flowers, it is only fair that her vote be worth two of ours," Freya said. Everyone nodded in agreement. "But Sar''tara, I must ask, what made you desperate enough to have made such a gambit. Surely a mere boar was not the cause of this?"

    Sar''tara sighed, feigning regret whilst thinking of the best way to respond. "It was a lack of judgement, Sister Freya," she said. "Much of my attention had been focused on old tracks of large animals. Time slipped my mind. I''d forgotten to tend to my own body. On the final night, I had resigned to failure and settled for eating a hare I''d found. But a naiad requested it from me. And so I starved," Sar''tara finished. She looked over the council members. Most frowned, but leaned in as if curious for more.

    "You listened to a nymph?" Freya asked. "Kindness is a good virtue, but foolishness is not. Had you a reason to entertain the naiad''s whims?"

    "Yes. I declined it at first. But it offered me a bargain. The hare for the location of the boar. I couldn''t deny the offer." The council began muttering amongst themselves. Sar''tara''s spirit rose. She had successfully deflected attention away from her failure and to the strangeness of a nymph''s bargain instead.

    "Receiving free aid from another daughter during a hunt is strictly forbidden," Stel''Na said. "But for a trade¡­ This is the first I''m hearing of a bargain ever having been made with a nymph," Stel''Na said. "Dryads and naiads alike normally approach us Vashiri for trivial conversation, pranks, or to ask us for objects they take interest in."

    Sar''tara frowned. "Surely someone else has been asked before, even if it was trivial."

    Stel''Na looked around. Everyone shook their heads. "A question for the Forest Mother for when we next meet her then."

    Hopefully that''s soon. Sar''tara omitted the fact that the naiad had helped bring the boar across the river. She couldn''t have done it alone. Her chest was heavy with guilt. I did give her the fur pelt¡­ She tried convincing herself that it was just another trade, though deep down, she did not believe it. Her hands fidgeted. She wondered if honesty was the best path. Her lips parted to speak but Stel''Na spoke first.

    "Now, for the final point. Ten arrows you were given. Four you returned with in your quiver. Two were stuck in the boar and four are missing. What is the reason for this?"

    Sar''tara swallowed. "I had competition," she said quickly, her calm demeanor slipping away. "One of the Kreiva was trying to hunt the same boar. I was forced to immobilize her." It came out as an excuse rather than an argument. She shifted, straightening her back and trying to regain her composure.

    "Could you not have taken the kill from the shadows?" asked Kiali.

    "I¡­ Yes. I could have," Sar''tara admitted. She racked her brain for the appropriate words. But anything she thought of would expose her for having been either afraid or foolish.

    More mutters as the possible reason for not taking the kill was discussed.

    "All of us here have met a Kreivan at least once," Freya began. "They are huge. And their fists harder than stone. Sar''tara here fought one of them while hunting a Tricora Boar and managed to come out on top. And it was not with evasion and dexterity alone. Sar''tara showed superior endurance as well, as made evident by the fracture of her left arm. I imagine some of you have seen a Kreivan woman break boulders with their fists. Our sister''s bravery should be taken into account."

    "Very well. Do you have anything else to add, Sar''tara?" Stel''Na asked, maintaining a level tone.

    "No," Sar''tara finished, grateful for Freya''s defense. She rested her hands on her knees and squeezed. Please be enough!

    "Then let us decide. All in favor of having our sister represent us before our Mother, Ny''Danis?"

    Seven hands went up.

    "And those against?" Stel''Na asked.

    Six this time. Stel''Na was the last remaining. Her hand was worth two this time around. The council was of even numbers. But rarely was there an even split vote. If there was, then the huntress in question was called to do a final task to prove herself.

    Stel''Na sighed. "I''m sorry, Sar''tara," she said. "I cannot consciously allow you to meet our Mother tomorrow. Had you not made so many errors, then I would have been forced to acknowledge you. I still do acknowledge you. But it is not your time yet. You are in no condition to take our Mother''s Trials. They begin shortly after you arrive before her. I know the effects of the kresip flower and know that it will take a minimum of nine days for you to recover completely. You may feel much better than this morning, but with the extent of damage to your insides, the Trials will claim your life. Failing is certain death."

    "The Selharr haven''t been able to send many Guardian candidates in the last few decades," Stel''Na continued. "Those that did go never returned. You will need to be at your best before Mother Ny''Danis. I do not wish for you to die during the Trials due to a mistake on our part. You will have another chance in a few months. Prove yourself to us once more. We all believe in you. You are, after all, the pride and hope of the Selharr. I vote against."

    Sar''tara''s heart sank. She nodded, blinking furiously as tears formed. Her lips trembled. She was handed a bow and an arrow with the bone tip coated in various tree oils. She quickly stood, hoping the bear''s skull cast great enough a shadow to veil the lucid emotion held in her eyes. She lit the tip aflame and aimed at a massive stack of wood in the center of the village. Regardless of the decision, a celebration was still in order.

    Sar''tara let loose her fingers. A soft twang was followed by the roar of a bonfire come to life, signaling the beginning of the night''s festivities. The other sisters cried out in joy as they hurried to prepare drinks. The boar, completely skinned, was brought out, red lines of muscle tissue coated over by white slabs of fat peppered with herbs. The insides were stuffed with garlic shoots. A separate fire had been made for it to roast on a spit. The boar''s guts were to be prepared in a stew, aside from the liver.

    Mina brought out the liver on a wooden board and presented it to Sar''tara and the council. As was custom, it was cut into fifteen even parts and consumed raw. All of them hated it. They all cringed as they put it into their mouths. Some managed fa?ades of straight faces. It was a custom supposedly from the beginning of time itself and so no one questioned it.

    Sar''tara made her way to the bonfire, searching for a drink to wash out the foul taste in her mouth. All fourteen members of the council followed after her, though in a disorderly manner. None of them wanted to make it seem like they hated the custom. None of them wanted to earn another''s ire, remaining oblivious to each other''s solidarity in the matter.

    Over a hundred wooden bowls full of amber liquid had been set aside on a carved stone bench. A drink made from various edible wild berries, maple syrup, water, just the right amount of poisonous mushrooms, and fermented wild beans. Sar''tara downed three bowls in the span of seconds, making sure not to spill a single drop. The taste was sweet and also tart. It burned her throat and lit a fire within. She squeezed shut her eyes, letting the drink slowly numb her emotions.

    "Careful now. You are not fit to be drinking excessively this night," Stel''Na said as she sipped from a bowl of her own.

    Sar''tara shrugged and continued to drink. This was a drink she''d first tried at the age of ten. She''d grown accustomed to its mind muddling effects. She listened to the singing of her sisters from the sides while clapping along, trying to spark joy within herself.

    Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, the beautiful forest Goddess!

    Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, her beauty she does harness!

    Melodious is her voice, seductive are her songs!

    The trees bow to her, the flowers sing along!

    Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, the Selharr Vashiri Goddess!

    Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, a white star in the darkness!

    Chronary and deceit! She renders them obsolete!

    Nature''s arbiter, a magnificent deity!

    Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, the Mother of the Forest!

    Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, our Mother most beloved!

    Freya helped to cut the meat of the boar once it was ready and distribute it amongst the tribe. Sar''tara wolfed her portions, hardly chewing at all and drinking to force down the meat. Stel''Na still stood beside her, distant eyes hovering above the bonfire. "Are you disappointed in me?" Sar''tara asked.

    "No. Of course not. Well, not anymore I suppose," Stel''Na said, giving a slight smirk. "The Kreiva¡­ They are too prideful. I fear for what they may decide to do about having a kill taken from them."

    "What can they do?" Sar''tara asked, frowning. She downed another bowl of liquid. "The kill was rightfully mine," she declared, words beginning to slur.

    "They cannot see the greater purpose in protecting the forest," Stel''Na said. "Their Guardians are known to never retire."

    "So what?" Odd colors danced between the trees. Stel''Na''s voice echoed in Sar''tara''s mind but she was having trouble making sense of them.

    "They haven''t seen the outside. Know nothing of its dangers. The greed of a man can carry him to heinous lengths."

    Sar''tara heard the words, but they never fully registered. The world bent in strange ways as she shuffled towards the roaring flames. Kiali took her hands and spun her around, laughing while doing so. A smile spread on Sar''tara''s lips as all her previous thoughts sank beneath the effects of the powerful drink.

 Chapter 3: A Breathing Star amongst Many Dimmed

    <u>Chapter 3 - A Breathing Star amongst Many Dimmed</u>

    "To give, you must take. To take, you must give. Only then can you have. Only then can there be," The Sun recited for what he estimated to be the millionth time. The fingers of the scholar flipped through crackling pages of the old tome and then went back to the front.

    It read ''Chronary: The Basics and the Advanced by Ylpha''. The Sun leaned back in his chair, his shoulder length ash hair, greased, stuck to the back of his head. "For all that you narrate here, you didn''t explain that which everyone desires most¡­" He opened the tome again. "To give, you must take. To take, you must give. Only then can you have. Only then can there be."

    The Sun looked out the small open window to the left of his desk. Hollowed daylight came through the opening in the stone walls. A sudden flicker, caused by the passing of an eagle. He sighed, glancing back at the book before him. He''d thought of transcribing it on pages anew, to leave behind the rotting and crumpling parchment of ages past, but he couldn''t. The sight of it instilled an addictive nostalgia. He was also sentimental of it, having had it for so long. He simply couldn''t imagine having a new copy.

    Chronary. A magic of some millennia past, from before the ancient War of Ashes even. The art of creating something ¡ªanything, at the cost of one''s own lifespan. The Sun delicately flipped to the second page of the book. A small corner snapped at the touch of his rough and callused fingertips. Calluses borne from ages of experience. He clicked his tongue, wondering if transcribing was truly a necessity. "No. Preposterous. I''ve memorized this tome. If the book rots, it rots. This knowledge will end with me."

    His own words caused him to smirk. His eyes glazed over the second page. "Chronary was created by the First King of man," he read. "He who was chosen by the Goddess ''XXXXX''." The Goddess'' name was scratched out, as if the author had forgotten how to spell the name of Illusterra''s creator. "Goddess Trillia," The Sun finished.

    He closed the book and recited the next bit from memory. "Chronary is achieved through a written medium, a language of written runes crafted by the First King himself. Merely writing the runes does not entail achieving Chronary. One must craft the perfect sentence to achieve the desired result. Then, they must meditate upon what they have written, feel themselves through their very words, and breathe life into them. Breathe their very own life. The results will reflect the amount of life sacrificed. Thus, one''s own blood is the best form of ink. Breathing life into a part of yourself is easier than anything else."

    The Sun leaned back in his chair and kept reciting. "Objects created through Chronary can be wielded by the average person at no cost. Typically no cost. There are¡ª" he paused. Some of the words felt unnecessary. Perhaps a rewrite¡­ "There are of course, exceptions. Such as Butter Knife. A sabre of my own making, created through some of the most advanced Chronary. Upon creation, one year''s worth of lifespan was poured into it. Should that one year run out whilst using, the user''s lifespan gets drained instead. However, for each life taken, Butter Knife consumes the entirety of the slain person''s remaining lifespan."

    The Sun grimaced. He stood up and paced about in the small room of his tower, hands at his back. He was a scholar. One with experience transcending all others, or so he would have himself believe. Ylpha, on the other hand, was clearly inexperienced. Or at least was at the time of writing. Ylpha reveled at his own creation. A weapon called ''Butter Knife.''

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Who in their right mind names a sword ''butter knife''?" The Sun thought aloud. Or perhaps Ylpha was truly cracked from the beginning as others claimed. Blood Mage Ylpha. One of history''s greatest villains along with the corrupted descendants of the Flame Bearers of old. "Corrupted¡­ Doubtful. They were always evil," he said, flexing his fingers repeatedly. Time was often too slow in passing.

    The Sun looked over the many smooth scars placed upon the rigid lines of his arm. He had many history books on the topic. Some of his own writing, crafted to utmost perfection after painful, and often humiliating, years of research. Chronary itself wasn''t evil. Chronary was knowledge. Knowledge was neither good nor bad. Its traits were dependent on the intent of its use. Ylpha''s book was the last remaining text on Chronary. The rest had either been lost in time, or had been burnt some centuries ago during the deposing of the Flame Bearers, House Zz''tai of the Xenarian kingdom.

    Despite his gripes with the book, The Sun still couldn''t bring himself to rewrite the text; and despite his beliefs on Chronary, he didn''t trust others with such knowledge. Its power was too readily abused. Ylpha had earned the title of ''Blood Mage''. A title preceded by ''Ylpha the Immortal''. Blood Mage became the more common name once people realized what he''d done to attain his immortality. Blood Mage Ylpha, Apostle of the Tortured Throne¡­

    The Sun let out an exasperated sigh. He opened the drawers to his desk and looked over a map of Illusterra.

    The light of the people, they call me. And yet, he didn''t act the part enough. Darkspawn ran rampant throughout the world. He didn''t have enough influence to conquer them. To kill them and forever end the last remaining strings of the Tortured Throne''s influence in the world.

    The Thousand Sun City, his city, was powerful. Powerful enough to be regarded with caution by its neighbors. But The Sun''s home was just that. A nation state consisting of a single, solitary city. The city''s army, the Astral Union, roamed the lands as an independent justice militia, working to root out and destroy any and all traces of darkspawn. The neighboring nations allowed it. But they never aided The Sun with the task. They saw the Union''s inquisition legions as nothing more than a pest.

    If only they helped¡­ The Sun looked down at the map once more. The Papillion Forest lay less than a dozen days'' worth of marching from his home. A forest rumored to hide ancient Divine Artifacts. Artifacts that could be useful in his mission. Useful in conquering Xenaria, he thought. Xenaria, after all, was the kingdom of the vile Flame Bearers. If evil was to be rooted out forever, Xenaria needed to be felled and renamed.

    The first step to that task was conquering the Papillion Forest near its borders. But the forest itself was home to a host of darkspawn. Witches of terrible power. Anyone getting near the forest turned up dead. One name in particular stood out within the history books The Sun had written. Ny''Danis. A devilish creature with silver hair and black wings. The immortal queen of the forest, she was called.

    The Sun touched the side of his neck, running his hand along a scar. A scar received from his last attempted invasion of the forest. It was so long ago. And yet he remembered every detail of that battle. A forest of only women. It was impossible for them to exist. No man had ever been seen entering the forest. None had been seen within it. There was only one other way for life to exist. The Sun looked back at the book on Chronary. But whose life is being sacrificed?

    That was simple. They were darkspawn. And darkspawn killed for their needs. They needed to be culled. Who knew what ill-mannered plot they thought of hatching? They had been left alone for too long. The Sun could wait no longer. No. Illusterra could wait no longer.

    He was glad for the book on Chronary. Deadly though its uses may be, in his hands, they could be used to change the world for the better. But the sheer power of the forest''s defenders¡­ He could only hope that it would be enough to put his plans into motion. Enough to fell the forest and obtain the Artifacts of power. Artifacts after all had real power, untainted, not needing of any sacrifice.

    Enough to kill Ny''Danis... he thought, fists clenched.

 Chapter 4: Declaration of War

    <u>Chapter 4 - Declaration of War</u>

    Sar''tara groaned as she rolled onto her back. She had a splitting headache. Her feet were sore, her throat parched and her memory of the night before, much like the rest of her sisters, was hazy. She sat upright and ran a hand through her hair. She squinted, slowly adjusting to the light spilling through lidless windows in the small hut. A few of her sisters lay around her, some groaning and some still asleep. She often woke up in such a condition after a night of celebration.

    She pulled herself to her feet and looked around. Her bone trophies lay scattered about, mixed with those of others. Her sisters would have a hard time distinguishing between their own necklaces and bracelets. For Sar''tara, finding her trophies did not take too long. Hers contained the largest bones after all.

    She made her way outside, stretching to loosen stiff joints. Some of her older sisters ¡ªthose that had refrained from heavy drinking¡ª were breaking down pieces of charred wood from the night before. The ashes would make an excellent fertilizer. The Selharr maintained a small garden wherein year round root vegetables along with medicinal plants and flowers were grown.

    Sar''tara yawned on her way to the gardens to pick up a few jasmine flowers. Kiali was among the women spreading ash dust, her hair still pulled back and bound in one long tail. She was the tallest of the Selharr, standing a half inch above Sar''tara. Even in her kneeling position, her height showed. "It''s your turn to hunt next, is it not, Sister?" Sar''tara asked, approaching from behind.

    "Yes. I aim to bring three wolves home by the end," the older huntress replied, not turning around.

    Sar''tara raised an eyebrow. Bringing a single wolf was hard enough.

    "One for each day," Kiali continued. Her tone didn''t suggest a joke. "I must thank you, Tara. The leftovers of the Tricora you brought, along with the dried meat we have stored will last the village nine days at least. Maybe even a full Vega lunar cycle. Sister Stel''Na will not reprimand me for bringing home non edibles as she so often does."

    "I believe wolves to be very useful," said Sar''tara. "This time of year especially. The warmth of their pelts are second to only bears and the knives carved from their bones are of the highest quality."

    Kiali sniffed. "I''m glad someone sees it from my perspective. The cold of evernight can be rather bothersome." She turned around. "How is your arm, Tara?"

    "Better." She caressed the bruise and grimaced at the memory ¡ªat her failure. "I was on my way to the pond for a bath," she replied quickly, blinking back tears and bending over to pluck a few flowers, their sweet scent hypnotizing.

    "Jasmine¡­ Look at you, preparing as if you''re about to meet our Mother. Save some for me, your highness. For I will surely be granted an audience with Mother four days from now."

    Sar''tara giggled. "Is it a sin to enjoy a blissful scent? Hmm. Your highness¡­? Is that not how plains dwellers address what is called a king or a queen?" she asked, digging through her memory. Ny''Danis would often tell stories of the outside from an ancient time thousands of years back. Of her old friends and great rulers of men. Sar''tara wondered if such things as kings and queens still existed in the outside.

    Kiali shrugged. "I think so. You''d remember Mother''s stories about the outside better than I, I suppose."

    "We''re only four years apart, Sister. Quit being so dramatic."

    The older huntress rose from her kneeling position and stretched out. "Four years is enough time to forget things. Don''t you miss it, Tara? Sitting in our Mother''s lap while she told stories of thousands of years past? Stories of the Ashen Haired Boy who did betray. Of Lilith Lilac and her peerless beauty, whom Mother claimed outstripped her own. Of the War of Ashes and Mother''s struggle against the Tortured Throne with her allies, the Flame Bearers." Kiali picked at the ash dust stuck beneath her nails. She frowned when they wouldn''t come out. "Alright, I admit I was being a little dramatic. I do remember. How can I forget our Mother''s beautiful voice while she sung us stories to sleep?"

    "To think Kiali the Cruel has a soft side. They say you never cried when Mother sent you here." Kiali''s eyes narrowed. Her frown deepened. A sly smile grew on Sar''tara''s lips. "They also say you''d wake up in the morning, red eyed and black lines beneath."

    "At least I didn''t wail under the sun like Sorry Sar''tara! I''m more concerned about which sister labelled me cruel," Kiali said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

    Sar''tara turned away, trying to mask her guilt. Not hunting edible animals was not the only reason for Kiali''s reprimanding by Stel''Na. She often brought back wolves with more knife wounds than necessary. As a result, the wolf pelts were not always in desirable condition. It gave rise to strange rumors amongst the Selharri. Rumors questioning whether she hunted to prove herself, or hunted merely for sport. Hunting was the core of a Vashiri''s life. Killing was not. Many knife wounds suggested Kiali either limited her use of the bow ¡ªthe main chosen weapon of the Selharr by Ny''Danis¡ª or she mutilated those she did hunt for unknown reasons.

    "I do miss Mother dearly," Sar''tara said, changing topics. "I would also like to see the outside. See the great cities Ny''Danis would speak of. The never ending blue of the sea. The golden deserts. High mountain peaks and giant rock eating birds. The open plains as well. I''ve always had this fantasy of riding a war beast on an open plain. Imagine riding a horse. I do wonder what it would feel like to have the wind flowing past my face then!" Sar''tara realized she was making exaggerated movements near akin to dancing.

    Kiali snorted. "Open plains are one place I''d rather not be. The plains are home to Silver Tail wolves which Mother said are much bigger than bears. Besides, it''d take many lifetimes to explore the outside. It''s no place to wander alone. Even a Guardian shouldn''t stray too far from the forest."

    Sar''tara looked down. Her imaginations were only a fantasy. The outside was dangerous. There were people seeking to desecrate the forest and steal from Ny''Danis. That was why she needed Guardians. That was why she needed her daughters.

    Kiali sighed as she looked to the sky. "This time for certain. This time, I''ll bring back three wolves and earn the right to see Mother again."

    Sar''tara smiled, gaining confidence from Kiali''s own. "What is a daughter if she cannot please her Mother? I''m sure Mother Ny''Danis misses us as well."

    Something pinched Sar''tara''s side. She jumped. "Those are harsh words," Freya said, frowning at the other two women, arms crossed. Her dark hair flowed freely. "Am I a bad daughter for having left the path of Guardianship?"

    "That was not my intent, Sister Freya," Sar''tara quickly said, shaking her head. "Forgive me if I have offended you."

    "Not at all. Confidence is a good trait. But do remember, confidence will help build your path, while caution will light the way forward. Go now, if you''re going to bathe, Tara. Before our siblings wake and the spring gets crowded."

    Sar''tara nodded and left. There was a small spring north of the Selharr village. It was both the village''s water source as well as a place for the sisters to cleanse themselves. Naiads frequented the spring often.

    Dark feathered song birds cried out from atop the branches of elm trees surrounding the village. Leaves were beginning to change color. Fading greens mixed with slight yellows and oranges and reds. The beginning of the fading period just before evernight; a time when all trees have shed their leaves and cold winds whisper through a barren woodland canopy. Also mating season for the birds.

    Sar''tara whistled along, mimicking the songs to the best of her ability. The winged creatures, fooled by her song, still approached her and fluttered around her head before disappearing. A small bee buzzed around her enclosed fist which held the jasmine flowers. She opened it and let it take what it had come for, its tiny legs tickling the center of her palm.

    Sar''tara arrived before the spring. She hung her clothes on the branches of a young oak already missing a quarter of its leaves. A few scrubbing stones had been left at the side of the spring. Rough edged stones that helped with scrubbing grime and dirt off of the body. She set aside the scented flowers before grabbing a stone and stepping into the cool water.

    Something suddenly grabbed hold of her leg and pulled her under. It was a naiad. The nymph smiled at her before pushing both of them to the surface. "Good mor-ning."

    Sar''tara coughed and spat. Her insides hurt with each breath. They had yet to heal. "Not a good morning anymore."

    The naiad looked genuinely shocked. "Oh no! Why not?"

    "Forget it."

    "Aww. But I was curious. Here for a bath? Is Sar''tara here to wash? I can wash your back! Can I wash your back?"

    The huntress sighed. "Please be gentle." There was no harm in entertaining the nymph''s whims. Her pale blue skin sparkled under the sun. Her dark eyes and hair length were all the same as the naiad from the night of the hunt. Even the body proportions seemed identical. Another reason Sar''tara tended to avoid the creatures. A Vashiri would never know if they were talking to a nymph that they''d already met. It often made for jarring and awkward conversations.

    The naiad nodded eagerly. She slowly scrubbed Sar''tara''s back while humming a tune. Something about the way she moved her hands was very relaxing. She moved to the front. Then gently scrubbed the limbs. Sar''tara didn¡¯t complain, closing her eyes and letting the naiad do all of the work for her. It was as if the coarseness of the scrubbing stone didn''t exist at all.

    "Oh!" the naiad said, surprised. "Oh dear. Your arm is black. And blue too. Just like me. It should not be so. Have you hurt it?"

    "Yes."

    "How so? I really want to know!"

    "It happened during my hunt not two nights past." Sar''tara looked down at her arm. The bruise was smaller and the dark colors had faded somewhat. Did Mother not say once that we Vashiri heal faster than normal humans, she thought. She couldn''t quite recall. Not that she would know, having never stepped outside of the forest.

    The naiad frowned. "But how? I didn''t ask when¡­ How! Tell. Me. Now!"

    Sar''tara raised an eyebrow. Was this naiad the same one from the final night of her hunt? "One of the Kreiva Vashiri hit me."

    "One of your sisters did!? One of our sisters? One of Mother''s daughters? But that''s so mean! Maybe they didn''t mean to? Was it an accident? I saw some of them this morning. A little north of here. Maybe they come to apologize to Sar''tara?"

    Sar''tara''s brows furrowed. The Kreiva were within Selharr vicinity? It wasn''t odd for a hunter to roam near a different Vashiri settlement. But the nymph said she saw some. Vashiri seldom left the vicinity of their own tribes unless hunting. She pushed herself away from the naiad, vaguely recalling Stel''Na''s troubled words from the night before. "How long ago did you see them?"

    "Early this mor-ning, three of them, two slee-ping. One awake, two drea-ming!"

    Sar''tara didn''t have time to think. Are they here to retaliate? But the kill was rightfully mine¡­ She jumped out of the spring and began rinsing away the water as best she could with her hands alone. The naiad watched her curiously. She slowly moved to the edge of the spring and picked up the jasmine flowers. "These smell lovely."

    "You can have them if you want them. I do not have time to use them," Sar''tara said as she dressed.

    The nymph squealed with joy. "How did you know I wanted them?"

    Sar''tara ignored the question. She double checked that her knives were still attached to the leather band before binding it to her thigh. The sun had been up for some time. The Kreiva, if they were going to the Selharr, would likely be arriving at the village soon. Sar''tara raced back home, struggling to do so. Extreme movements were still painful. Her vision blurred around the edges. It didn¡¯t help that strands of her wet hair swung about wildly, whipping her back and occasionally getting stuck upon her face before the eyes.

    Most of her sisters were still asleep by the time she arrived at the village. Freya was grinding medicinal herbs to a pulp while Kiali filled the bottom of her quiver with numbing poison. They briefly glanced Sar''tara''s way as she burst into the clearing, jumping over a waist high fence of wooden stakes and rope, regretting it immediately as her landing sent needles through her insides. Then they looked past her.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Kiali stood up, bow in hand and arrow nocked. Sar''tara spun around to see three Kreivan women not a few dozen feet from the village fence. All three had their dark hair tied in a bun. Circular bone ornaments hung from their pierced ears and nose. Sar''tara opened her mouth to speak but could only gasp for air instead, each breath a stabbing splinter in her lungs.

    "What purpose is there in your coming to our village," Kiali demanded.

    "Call your council, Selharri. We have come seeking settlement for a conflict. One that your tribe has started," the woman in the middle said. All of them were of similar height, but the middle one had the thickest arms and legs by far. Her hands were clenched in a fist. The outline of her bulging veins and flexed forearm muscles were made clear by the light of the sun shining against her smooth skin. And her abdomen shone like four polished blocks of clay stacked in two rows.

    Sar''tara took a half step back, fearing a sudden attack. The Kreivan woman smirked at the signs of fear, causing Sar''tara to scowl and step up.

    "You come here making demands without the appropriate greetings of respect?" Kiali asked. Her ash wood bow creaked as she slowly drew the bowstring back, though not raising to aim.

    "Respect should only be expected when it is given. We have been disrespected by one from your tribe. Now call your council!"

    "Settle down," Freya interjected, trying to mediate the situation. "We are all daughters of the Forest Mother here. She has created the tribes in equal. If you claim injustice has been done upon you, then we shall call a council. We ask for your patience. Our sisters are barely waking. We had held a celebration last night for a successful hunt."

    "Stolen hunt, you mean," the middle Kreivan said. Sar''tara clenched her fists, though kept silent, not yet revealing herself as the huntress in question. "You say your elders are drunk on celebration? When your hunt had succeeded two nights past? Do you mean to tell me that your huntress had been incapacitated upon return? Was the damage done to their arm that overwhelming? And you. You are Sister Freya," the woman said, recognizing Freya''s smaller form compared to the two other Selharr present, looking her up and down as a predator examines its prey. The word ''sister'' seemed said with much disdain.

    "You are Freya the Dishonorable," the Kreivan went on. "Your words mean nothing to us. You who has left the path the great Forest Mother hath ordained for us. The path of the Guardians. You are a shame upon the Selharr! Nay! A shame upon all Vashiri! It brings me immense disgust to know that I share blood with such a weak woman. You are no daughter of Ny''Danis. Hmph. Perhaps the Selharr shouldn''t exist at all. Years without a single Guardian. It is no small wonder that your tribe has borne such a frail person!"

    Sar''tara found her fingers wrapped around the hilt of a knife. There was pride, but this woman had exceeded the limits. She looked to Freya, seeking approval to defend the elder sister''s honor. Freya''s expression remained soft, not bearing even the slightest hint of disdain or resentment, leaving Sar''tara slightly confused.

    "Enough!" Kiali cried. She fired a warning shot that grazed the Kreivan''s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Sar''tara wondered if it''d been coated in poison. "We will endure claims of disrespect, but we will not endure insults to the tribe. Or any of its members. Sister Freya has the wisdom to recognize her own weakness. Can you Kreivan women claim the same? You may have the highest number of serving Guardians, but you also have the highest number of failures that have died during our Great Mother''s Trials. Mother Ny''Danis bears in her womb whom she wills. She gives birth to whom she wills. You are her own daughters. Our sisters. To insult your own is to insult the Mother herself. Do you dare to sully the name of Ny''Danis by claiming Sister Freya has weak blood? Do you dare to sully our Mother''s womb with your words? Do you dare blaspheme the deity of the Papillion Forest?"

    Sar''tara bent her knees, preparing to jump if need be. The Kreivan woman twitched. One of her compatriots placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. The woman in the center wiped away the blood on her cheek with a thumb before licking it for a taste. She spat it out immediately, as if recognizing a foul taste mixed within. "It seems that I over spoke," she said, slurring over her words slightly. The numbing poison was affecting the movements of her face. "We shall wait for your council to prepare."

    The Kreivan women sat near the village entrance with crossed legs and folded arms. Sar''tara sat next to Kiali, observing the three women as the Selharr village was slowly roused awake. The young girls of the Selharr stayed a long distance away from the women of the other tribe. All daughters of Ny''Danis were tall. But the Kreiva were a cut above the rest. Their height packed with their muscular form was enough to drive fear into the girls. They were seeing their rivals for the first time. Women against whom they would compete with for the forest''s limited resources.

    The same fourteen elder sisters sat cross legged in a circle, with the Kreivan women and Sar''tara participating. The former cringed to see Freya being a part of the council and glared at Sar''tara once realizing that she was their wanted thief. She glared back. Stel''Na looked to be annoyed to have woken up so early after a hangover. She had bags under her eyes and disheveled hair.

    "State your names, daughters of the forest," Stel''Na said, half mumbling.

    "Sar''tara Vashiri, daughter of Ny''Danis, huntress of the Selharr."

    "I am Midrala Vashiri, daughter of Ny''Danis, huntress of the Kreiva. These are Ken''Via Vashiri, and Rea Vashiri, my elder siblings, and your sisters as well," the left most Kreivan woman said. The woman in the center, Ken''Via, had her entire mouth paralyzed and so they''d opted to have a single person introduce all three. The numbing poison would last the vast majority of the day before wearing off.

    "You come with a claim of dishonor. A grave claim that I would hope your own council has discussed in length and sanctioned. You state that huntress Sar''tara has stolen a kill from one of the Kreiva Vashiri. Please explain yourselves. Sar''tara, you may present your defense afterwards."

    Sar''tara nodded towards Stel''Na and turned to the Kreivans, wondering just what manner of absurdity they would conjure.

    "It is as you say," Midrala began. "We have discussed this at great length, on the day of our huntress'' return ¡ªwho returned late in the evening, limping with an arrow in her knee. We waited until evening of the following day to set out of our village and come to yours, expecting that you would be tired from your inevitable celebrations. We did not expect that it''d be delayed by a day¡­"

    It was an indirect insult. Sar''tara scowled but said nothing.

    "Our huntress claims that her kill was stolen," Midrala said. "She claims rights to the Tricora Boar''s death. She says that Huntress Sar''tara here ambushed her from within the trees and took the boar for herself. She also claims that she managed to put up a valiant fight before the effects of your¡­ poison¡­ took hold and she was immobilized." Midrala cracked her knuckles, mouthing the word ''poison'' with twisted lips. To the Kreiva, weapons were a coward''s tools. Poisons, even more so. "Her claims are made evident by the damaged left arm of huntress Sar''tara. These matters are not to be taken lightly. The killer maintains the rights of the kill. To steal¡­ It would mean forfeiting one''s rights to participate in Mother''s Trials."

    "What!?" Sar''tara exclaimed. Her heartrate increased with her rising temper. They were trying to deny her. Deny all the Selharr. Sar''tara''s slaying of a great bear eight years prior had earned her a reputation amongst the sibling tribes. They knew her to have Ny''Danis'' favor. They knew that she was one of the best chances the Selharr had in breaking the long running streak of failure.

    The Kreiva didn''t know that the council had already ruled against sending Sar''tara to the Trials. To the Kreiva, pride mattered more than wanting to see their Mother''s will through. Pride mattered more than having the honor of serving their Mother. Competition existed to encourage a huntress'' growth and create stronger Guardians. It didn''t exist to create enmity.

    Stel''Na raised an eyebrow at the accusations. "Sister Sar''tara, present your case and the council shall decide on the course of action."

    Sar''tara exhaled, calming herself. There was no reason to pull any punches. "I''m afraid you''ve been lied to. The kill was rightfully mine. I brought down your huntress before finishing the boar off with a knife," she said, head held high, venom spewing from her glare.

    Midrala narrowed her eyes. "You''re telling me that you, managed to not only immobilize a Kreiva Vashiri huntress, but also hold back the boar at the same time? Was the boar injured? How did you have strength enough to finish it off, and how did you bring it back to your tribe alone? Your celebrations were delayed due to your obvious incapacitation. Explain this to us, huntress Sar''tara!"

    "Indeed. It seems your huntress was not as capable as you deemed her to be," Sar''tara mocked. "Unlike Kreiva, the other Vashiri hunt more rationally. We use the tools the Forest Mother has provided us with to their utmost. I''d already poisoned your huntress before she was aware of me. That undoubtedly slowed her. Still though, as you said, she put up a valiant effort. She managed to run into me while I had an arrow nocked. She brought me down and managed a blow to my arm. But she''d also managed to stab herself with my arrow. Had she thought with her head rather than with her muscles, perhaps she''d have prevailed. But with a poisoned arrow lodged into her thigh, I managed to come out on top."

    Sar''tara flexed her fists and continued. "As for my incapacitation, that was no result of your huntress, but rather a fault of my own," she said, looking away to feign disinterest. "I was high on the effects of a kresip flower. It left me at death''s door by the time I made it back to the village. As I said, we Selharr use everything at our disposal. Even the very limits of our life," she declared through closed teeth, turning back to now see the Kreivan reactions. "That is how far we would go to please our Mother."

    Rea maintained a neutral expression while Ken''Via and Midrala glared, the folds in their skin deepening as if Sar''tara had just admitted to cheating in some capacity. Rea seemed to be the only one considering both sides of the argument.

    Sar''tara folded her arms and closed her eyes as the Selharr council muttered amongst themselves. All the facts were laid before them. There was no reason to glare back at them. The Selharr council would not vote against her. Even if they did, she had already been denied a meeting with Ny''Danis. The Kreiva would think that they''d won and leave without further incident.

    "It seems we are at an impasse," Stel''Na said. "There is no way for us to know whom amongst you speaks the truth. Huntress Sar''tara bears the wound of being struck by one of the Kreiva Vashiri. Proof enough of a conflict. The boar, as I recall, bore no wounds of blunt trauma. Nor was its neck broken. It had two arrows lodged within. One on the head and the other through its windpipe. I saw no evidence that it''d been slain by the bare hands of one of your huntresses, Sister Midrala. Huntress Sar''tara also arrived at our village with blood rolling down her eyes and mouth. Evidence enough for the usage of kresip. This council would rule in favor of Sar''tara. But surely you would not travel to our village to conjure lies and spread falsehoods. Do you have any further evidence against our huntress'' words?"

    "¡­No," Midrala hissed through her teeth.

    Sar''tara couldn''t help but allow a satisfied smirk to appear.

    "Very well. All who believe Sar''tara to have rightfully slain the boar?" Stel''Na asked, going about concluding the hearing formally.

    Thirteen hands went up.

    Kiali kept her hand down, shrugging as the council looked to her with questioning eyes. Sar''tara saw hints of mischief on her twitching lips. She was offering the Kreiva a disgraced consolation prize by voting in their favor.

    "There you have it then," Stel''Na said. "Claims of disrespecting the forest''s laws are not to be taken lightly. We are pleased that you''ve come to discuss your grievances, but we unfortunately cannot do much further for you. There were no biases in our decision today. Evidence overwhelmingly supports our own huntress. I say this on my honor as a former Guardian of the forest. You are free to share a meal with us before I must ask you to leave."

    Midrala stood up in a fit of rage. "This decision is unacceptable! It strips the Kreiva of their honor! Your council would imply that our own huntress is a liar? That a daughter of Ny''Danis would dare to lie?"

    Stel''Na slowly stood up as well. Her former glory and fighting spirit bled from her confident stance. Her unruly hair made her seem all the more intimidating. Though she stood more than a half head below Midrala, the glare of her golden eyes sent shivers down Sar''tara''s spine. "We make no implication here. Your reaction is unwarranted. We say as we''ve seen. Evidence states that your huntress has lied. To rule otherwise would make not only our own huntress a liar, but our entire council as well. Honor demands you respect the decision of our council!"

    "Honor is dead! We respect nothing when you''ve spat upon the Kreiva Vashiri name. This decision reeks with bias."

    Sar''tara slowly stood as well, mimicking Stel''Na''s confident stance. "Do you wish to deny me that much!? Is your ego so great that you''d stomp on others?"

    "All fourteen of you have voted against us," Midrala claimed, ignoring Kiali''s silent insult. "We will let the Mother decide our fate. On my honor as a daughter of Ny''Danis, I hereby make a declaration of war against the Selharr. Surely the victors of this war will be the ones with whom truth stands. The ones with whom the Great Mother stands!"

    The other members of the council gasped. Sar''tara''s lips parted. She never imagined the Kreiva would go so low. No¡­ They didn''t come here to deny me. They should have at least suspected that the council would take my side. It had always been their intent to start a war. A war that started with the mere slaying of a boar. Their goal was the annihilation of the Selharr. Sar''tara swallowed. Were her rivalling sisters truly willing to go to such a length?

    "You''d make such a heavy decision without the permission of your own council?" Stel''Na demanded, fists clenched.

    "Honor is indeed dead," Kiali said, finally breaking her silence. "Theirs, that is. They never planned to respect our council''s decision."

    "We came here with the permission of our own council," Rea said, standing up as well. Her voice was softer than one would expect and her full lips were curled opposite a smile. Ken''Via also stood up, though with shaky legs. The paralysis was spreading through her body. "We have been given full authority to represent all Kreiva Vashiri," Rea continued. "I stand with Sister Midrala. If she has declared war, then we are now at war."

    "Pray to Mother Ny''Danis, Selharri," Midrala sneered. "Pray for forgiveness. But it is too late to turn back now. The days of your tribe are numbered. If the Selharr have abandoned their honor, then we, as daughters of the Forest Deity, will take it upon ourselves to destroy you. The Mother''s blessings will surely be with us, the truthful."

    "Excuses," Sar''tara said. "You don''t need to justify your declaration. Your intentions are clear."

    "We''ll see with whom Mother''s blessings truly lie," Kiali spat. "I''d stick all three of you with arrows right this moment but I still have honor and self-respect. Get out of our village!"

    The Kreivan women stormed off. Other members of the Selharr village stared in wonder. Things had taken a turn for the worst. "It seems your opportunity to meet the Mother has come faster than anticipated, Sar''tara," Stel''Na said, shaking her head. "A war is also a proving ground for us Vashiri. An opportunity for us to send multiple sisters to take the Guardian Trials."

    "But, we''re all sisters, are we not? Why must we kill one another? Surely Mother can mediate between us?" Sar''tara asked. She was infuriated. She wanted an opportunity to prove herself. But she didn''t want it like this. "No matter how low they stoop, blood daughters should not kill each other."

    "Alas, this is what I feared," Stel''Na said. "Battles have happened before. All of them instigated by the Kreiva. Once when I was eight, before any of you were born. Not twenty years later, they started a conflict with the M?khain Vashiri as well. Freya will have remembered this one." Stel''Na closed her eyes. "Bloody conflicts, both of them. The Kreiva are always looking to prove their superiority. If Ny''Danis was against this, then we would have known. I''m afraid Mother approves of conflict. Promotes the creation of stronger Guardians, I suppose."

    "But¡­ All for a boar¡­" All her life Sar''tara had been trained to hunt. Hunt animals that is. She didn''t hesitate to fire at another huntress. But that was because she knew that the woman wouldn''t die. But you left her paralyzed within the Papillion. Where wolves and bears roam at night. Is that not the same as a death sentence? The same as killing her yourself?

    But the woman hadn''t died. She''d returned and lied. A lie that would lead to the deaths of many siblings. Sar''tara closed a fist at her chest. She would kill her own siblings to also protect her own siblings. A seemingly pointless conflict. One that she was forced to face.

    But huntresses could not afford half measures. Her end goal was still attaining her Mother''s acknowledgement. Attaining the seat of a Guardian. She steeled her resolve. She would see her goal through or die trying.

 Chapter 5: Defense Preparations

    <u>Chapter 5 - Defense Preparations</u>

    A lot of mutters and whispers added a cold overhang to the village. Voices muddling the void with fear as thick as quicksand. Sar''tara looked around. None but Kiali seemed intent on seeing the war through to its end. The youngest Selharris, even the women that had already been through their coming of age ceremony, uttered doom sayings. None were as fearless as they claimed to be, their mental fortitude exposed for the brittle clay that it was. Just like me¡­

    Sar''tara refused to let fear stop her now. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, molding her fear into hatred, picturing a Kreivan''s looming fist held above her head, and shattering that image through renewed confidence born from a rush of blood. She opened her eyes, chest thumping, and stared at the shrinking backs of the Kreiva heading deeper into the thick of the forest. Kiali was watching them also.

    Sar''tara met her elder sister''s eyes. They both started towards the forest, armed, determined. It would take the Kreivan women one day to return to their own village. Muscle headed women who thought they sat upon thrones. It''d be an all too easy task to track them down and kill them before they reached their homes. Women who weren''t well versed in stealth arts, and who thought of their competition as inferior, would never even imagine that they''d become the hunted.

    Kiali''s expression was unwavering. Given the focus in her eyes, Sar''tara judged their intentions were aligned. If those three died, their village would be late in hearing the news. The Selharr could use that opportunity to go on the offensive. Sar''tara clenched her fists. Foundations of a meticulous plan began to form in her mind. She would bring the Selharr victory. Would prove her worth and earn her place at her beloved Mother''s side.

    "I''m still bringing back three heads," Kiali muttered through her teeth. "Just all in one night instead of three."

    Sar''tara nodded in reply.

    "Where are you going?" Freya asked sternly, stepping before the two huntresses.

    "A pointless question, Sister. Surely our expressions makes it obvious," Sar''tara said.

    "Kiali, Tara, what does being a Guardian mean to you?"

    "What are you speaking of?" Kiali demanded.

    "A Guardian protects," Freya said. "We seek our Mother''s approval because she prefers those who are strong. A stronger woman will better defend the forest. Better defend all that we and Ny''Danis cherish. Mother loves all of us equally. And she loves the Papillion Forest as well. She prefers strength for a cause, but does not love a stronger daughter more than a weaker one. This bloodshed¡­ It is my belief that she allows it to preserve the forest. To preserve us, her daughters. A few sacrifices for the longevity of the forest. It brings about stronger Guardians. Guardians that will protect the forest from outside threats."

    "But the Kreiva have always been aggressors," Sar''tara argued, scowling in disbelief. Freya spoke as if her entire existence hadn''t just been insulted by the Kreiva. "You heard Sister Stel''Na, just now. They''ve started wars before."

    "They need to be put down so this bloodshed between sisters will end for good!" Kiali said, keeping her gaze attached to the Kreiva.

    "Kiali, was it not you who said that Mother gives birth to whom she wills?" Freya asked. "Do you two plan to kill with the intent to cause their tribe''s extinction?"

    Both shook their heads.

    Freya sighed. "What do you think will happen when the prideful Kreiva Vashiri suffer the humiliation of an attack? Do you think they will suddenly find humility and humbleness?"

    "But¡ª" Sar''tara began.

    Freya caressed the sides of both Sar''tara and Kiali''s heads. "It is better that their attack fails. Better that our strength is made clear. Kiali, you are an amazing huntress. You sit on our council because there are none older, but you also have wisdom enough to deserve a spot there. Do not cloud this wisdom with your emotions."

    Kiali looked down.

    "And you, Tara," Freya said, smiling softly. "You''re kind, but you seem intent on supressing your compassion with anger. It is fine to be upset. But too little compassion can lead to rash decisions you may come to regret."

    "¡­Are you not angered by their insults, Sister?" Sar''tara asked, shuffling her feet and looking down also.

    "I''ve learned to look past words a long time ago. So long as I successfully raise the young to be strong yet kind warriors, I am happy. Neither of you are children. But to me, everyone but Sister Stel''Na is a child. I would have loved to see Mother one last time. But I''ve resolved myself to withering away in this village, in hopes of providing you all with a better chance of seeing our Mother again. You cannot go and hunt them. We will not seek out the Kreiva village and kill them. It would be like hunting down animals. Our sisters are not animals. We all share the same blood."

    Sar''tara looked up, seeing an image akin to Ny''Danis herself. An aged smile filled with experience and kindness, and a touch of sorrow. Her deep brown eyes were easy to get lost in. It felt as if she was experiencing her Mother''s love. It made her heart ache. It pained her further to know that Freya had given up on trying to see their Mother again for the sake of her sisters. "Our ultimate task is not to kill but to protect," Freya said again. "We will wait for the Kreiva here. And we will protect our village and our younger sisters together. I may have a weaker body, but that doesn''t mean I cannot hold a bow. Though, I pray that they see the error of their ways and do not attack at all."

    Sar''tara and Kiali nodded. Freya had a way with words that could soothe even Stel''Na when she was angered. The eldest sister was barking out orders while pulling on a young girl''s ear. The Selharr, that were at first in a state of shock, were now bustling about to get to work. Seldom used stone axes and digging utensils were brought out of a storage hut.

    "Cut down smaller trees and make wooden stakes. This won''t be like last time!" Stel''Na declared. She stomped over to Sar''tara and the others and shoved a couple bone knives into their hands. "If you''ve time to laze about, go down south to the jute grove and bring back as much as you can carry. Carry them in your mouth if you have to. When you get back, start making as much rope as you can¡­ Actually, two of you go. One stay and help with digging pit traps!" The older woman stormed off and continued to shout.

    The three women looked to each other before sharing a brief moment of laughter. "I''ll stay to dig," Kiali said. "It''s harder work and not suited for Sister Freya, and Tara still needs to recover."

    Sar''tara nodded. She and Freya turned to leave.

    "Wait for me!" Someone cried as she ran to join them. It was Mina. Her right ear was red. She seemed happy to be away from the eldest and with Freya instead. "I''ve been told to¡­ to go with you," she said between breaths.

    "Fair enough. But can you two keep up with me?" Sar''tara asked with a wicked smile. She ran off ahead, leaving the others to follow at a slower pace.

    The sun had passed its peak by the time Sar''tara spotted the grove, her insides still stinging a bit. It was a small area beside a shallow running stream where jute trees grew. She paused behind a thicket. There was a huntress in the stream. A dark skinned woman with one half of her hair braided and the other half like a length of black silk. Her eyes were a deep green much like Sar''tara''s own. Or perhaps just a single eye. Her silken hair covered half of her features. She looked to be in her early to mid-forties. Sar''tara thought she saw hidden burn marks on half her face. Two spears were bound to her back and one in her hands.

    It was a M?khain huntress. She stabbed into the knee deep water with her spear. She took it out to reveal a plump trout wriggling on the sharp end as its blood rolled down the tip. The huntress pushed the fish further up the spear and continued her hunt until half her spear was decorated silver.

    Sar''tara took great interest in the hunt. For the Selharr, fish was not an ideal catch. A single fish was too small to be worth spending an arrow on. The river born creatures were a delicacy for the tribe. Rarely anyone brought them back after a hunt.

    A small dragonfly settled on Sar''tara''s sharp nose. Too much stealth and the insect had mistaken her for a stationary tree. She twitched irritably, causing the thicket to rustle. The M?khain huntress whipped her head around in the direction of the sound.

    "Show yourself!"

    Sar''tara sucked in a breath, wondering if she should feign being an animal. She decided against, thinking it''d be rude if she were discovered spying. She kept her bow in hand and maintained a safe distance from the other woman as she stepped into the clearing.

    "Selharri¡­ What business do you have with me?"

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    "None, Sister," Sar''tara assured. Half the woman''s face was burnt. She wondered how that''d come to happen. "My business is with the jute trees. You may return to your hunt."

    The other woman nodded, though she kept a cautious eye on Sar''tara until she''d crossed the stream and entered the jute grove. Mina came along shortly after and began helping with the harvest. The two worked with efficiency as they cut down the thin jutes with their bone knives.

    "Where''s Sister Freya?" Sar''tara asked after a short while, whipping her head around. The younger girl pointed back. Freya was conversing with the M?khain huntress, laughing while doing so. Sar''tara relaxed. They seemed to be on familiar terms. She shrugged and went back to work, moving her hands twice as fast. She worked for two, not wanting to let Freya do more than was necessary.

    By dusk, Mina and Sar''tara had collected as much as their arms would allow them to carry. The forest floor began to glow as the flora of night slowly bloomed. The M?khain huntress had gone a while ago and Freya had started a campfire on the opposite side of the stream. She was roasting three fishes on a stick along with large capped mushrooms.

    "Should we not be returning home, Sister?" Mina asked once they''d crossed the water.

    Freya smiled. "A small delay will not matter. Huntress Lein was kind enough to give us three fish. We can return apace after a meal!"

    Sar''tara opened her mouth to protest but shut it just as instantly, not realizing that her mouth had watered from the flowing scent. Her stomach growled. A Vashiri huntress knew better than to indulge when there were more pressing matters at hand. They knew better. But that didn''t mean they had to act on that knowledge.

    Lein had parted willingly with her kills, making them legible for others. Sar''tara set down the jute bundle in her arms and wiped away the sweat that had gathered upon her brow from a long day''s work. She washed her face at the stream and came to sit beside Mina and Freya. "Did you know that M?khain woman?" Sar''tara asked.

    "Yes. We met many years ago, after the Kreiva-M?khain war. Some of us Selharr sisters helped with their rebuilding."

    Sar''tara waited for more. This was the first she was hearing of the matter. Stel''Na and Freya seemed the only ones aware of the Kreivans'' caustic pride, and yet they''d never made mention of wars. "Why were the past aggressions of the Kreiva not mentioned?" she finally asked seeing as how Freya remained silent.

    Freya''s gaze was fixed on the ashes. "You would have me burden the young with this knowledge, Tara?" she snapped.

    Sar''tara was taken aback. She swallowed hard. The flames crackled.

    Freya sighed. "I''m sorry. I would rather not recall those memories. Stel''Na was a Guardian at the time. The then eldest of the village ordered about a dozen of us to go help the M?khain Vashiri. Of those dozen, eleven would go on to take the Guardian Trials. None returned¡­"

    Sar''tara''s mouth hung open.

    "Sister Stel''Na confided in me once," Freya continued, voice croaking. "She''d been eight when the Kreiva attacked the Selharr. Some of the Kreiva had supposedly been against the battle and had aided the Selharr in rebuilding following the fact. I wish they would always remain that rational ¡ªthat peaceful¡­ Wish Mother would¡­ never mind."

    Sar''tara regretted having asked the question. Freya''s wet eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. She blinked back her tears. Mina refrained from saying anything as well. All three sat in silence, listening to the whispers of a nightly breeze as the sun dipped beyond the horizon. Wish Mother would intervene, Sar''tara thought, completing Freya''s unspoken words. Is conflict the only way to create stronger Guardians?

    Freya suddenly smiled and began humming. She gave the others each a fish. "Sorry, I didn''t mean to dampen the mood. Now eat quickly. Sister Stel''Na will be upset if we return too late. Ah, of course, don''t mention this to anyone. They''ll be jealous that we kept three whole fish to ourselves," she winked.

    Mina nodded as she eagerly took a large bite, instantly regretting not having let it cool down at first. Freya giggled.

    Sar''tara could still feel a hint of sorrow from Freya''s gentle movements. A slight regret. Somewhere deep inside, she seemed hurt by the fact that she would never be a Guardian. Deeply hurt that eleven Selharr women, sisters she must have been really close with, all died, leaving her alone.

    Sar''tara watched Freya closely. Watched as her soft lips neared the fish and gently blew away a thin white line of rising steam. Freya took a careful bite. She juggled the hot piece of meat in her mouth with her tongue, smiling while doing so. There was a level of elegance to everything she did. It was easy to understand why most of the other sisters took such a liking to her. She resembled Ny''Danis the most out of any other. Had most of the beautiful features of the deity save for a head of silver hair and multi-chromatic eyes. Freya noticed her sister''s gaze and Sar''tara looked down instantly. She felt a growing heat in her cheeks.

    Once they had finished eating, they split the jute bundle into three even parts. Mina picked up her bundle and trotted off towards the village, happy to have a full belly. "Should I carry both our portions, Sister?" Sar''tara asked.

    "I''m not that weak." Freya reached up and ran a finger along the edge of Sar''tara''s lip before licking the finger clean. "Can''t leave any evidence now can we," she said with a wink.

    Sar''tara blushed but didn''t reply as she turned over a pile of jute.

    ***

    Kiali scraped away dirt from her hands with spring water along with a few others. She could see the beautiful faces of two naiads deep within the water. It''d taken most of the day to make wooden stakes and dig pits around the village within which to place them. Kiali clicked her tongue as she picked at dirt caught under her nails. They were getting bigger than she preferred to keep them. Someone tugged at the edge of her leather skirt. Eight year old Tavi. The youngest Selharri. "Sister, why are the Kreiva attacking us? Aren''t we all family?"

    "Yes. That is what Mother Ny''Danis has told us," Kiali said. The Kreiva certainly didn''t see it that way, making it hard for Kiali to see it that way as well. "I don''t have an answer to that question, Tavi. I''m sorry."

    "Are we going to die?"

    "No. Not so long as we have Mother''s blessing. We huntresses will protect this village to our last breaths. If you do find yourself near death, don''t be afraid, Tavi. It is just another part of life. You will get to see Mother sooner."

    The little girl didn''t look convinced. She''d only arrived at the village one year prior. Ny''Danis raised all of her daughters to the age of seven before sending them out to the tribes she selected for them. Tavi had yet to even attend a practice hunt. She got up and began walking away. Kiali could see dirt in between her fingers that she''d failed to wash away. "Watch where you step, Tavi," Kiali called. "Make sure you don''t fall into our traps." The sun had set and the pits were harder to notice.

    The naiads surfaced. Their normally inquisitive nature had turned into a passive one when hearing whispers of a war. They were the Forest Deity''s daughters as well and had no love for seeing their siblings shed each other''s blood. Kiali looked into their large dark eyes. Their sullen expressions spoke volumes. They pleaded for an alternative. Her own heart pleaded for it as well. But there were no alternatives. The remaining women made their way back to the village, carefully stepping around the dark pits they''d dug. Come morning, they would be covered with leaves and dirt to better hide them and thin strands of rope would be tied to trees for the purpose of tripping the Kreiva into the traps.

    Kiali shivered at the thought of her headstrong sisters haplessly falling into the pits and impaling themselves. She knew what it meant to have pride as a huntress. The Kreiva had such pride in droves. For them to fall to a miserable end, being denied the chance to even fight, would be a most soul crushing way to go. Kiali stood up and shook her hands to rid them of excess water. She paused before a pit trap on her way back to the village, staring down at the sharp stakes within. Perhaps a fitting way to go¡­ She grit her teeth and fought back the urge to shiver again.

    No matter what Freya had said, the Kreiva were the aggressors.

    ***

    Sar''tara dropped her jute bundle alongside the two other piles. The Selharr women were grinding plant leaves and stems to make deadly poisons while others checked over bowstrings and knife edges.

    Stel''Na was overseeing everything. "All unoccupied hands begin creating string!" she commanded.

    "We''ll never process the fibers in time," Sar''tara said as she approached. "It takes a number of days to make good rope."

    "We don''t need good rope," Stel''Na growled. "We need fibers good enough for a one time use. They just need to be effective in tripping our enemy."

    "I see. Do you reckon everything is going well?" Sar''tara asked.

    "¡­ I don''t know. I recall not having such preparations during the previous war. We never truly believed that the Kreiva would follow through with their attack. It was mere fortune that not all their numbers came that day. Else the Selharr may not be alive today."

    "Surely that is nonsense. Mother could bear more daughters when she wills. She could easily give birth to more Selharr."

    "And who would teach those newborns?"

    Sar''tara cocked her head to one side. "Could Mother not teach them? Was that not how it was when she first created the forest after the War of Ashes?"

    "I suppose she could. Odd. I''ve never had the curiosity for ancient history. Not the Flame Bearers or the Tortured Throne. Nor the Heartless demons from the War of Ashes or the vile magic known as Chronary from which they were born. But, I remember all of the stories rather clearly. All I care is that Ny''Danis always was and persists to be. And we, as her daughters, have a duty to protect her and this forest."

    "And protect our sisters as well. Yet we prepare to kill each other," Sar''tara said, looking to the starlit sky. It didn''t seem all that different from Ny''Danis'' stories of the past. The Tortured King was once a great man charged with ruling over people. And yet, pride and arrogance led to his descent into madness. He created Chronary in search of power, and through it, created an army of Heartless, leading to the War of Ashes and the eventual deaths of Ny''Danis'' siblings, the three lesser deities, at the hands of the King and his designated Apostles.

    Was everything merely a story? Or were there lessons hidden within? Lessons that the Kreiva had entirely forgotten? If only Mother would mediate¡­

    Stel''Na grunted in reply. She looked around, her eyes glazing over the forty-eight others. Everyone was trying to occupy themselves with something. Trying to forget about the very battle they were preparing for. Their hands moved quickly, as if doing so would make the battle end sooner as well. Perhaps it would. They were all afraid to some extent. "Do you want to know what I think our winning chances are, Sar''tara?"

    "Why would I burden myself with such knowledge? Wanting to know that would imply that I''m afraid," Sar''tara said, trying to put up an air of confidence.

    Stel''Na gave another acknowledging grunt.

    Sar''tara clacked her teeth a few times and fidgeted with her fingers. She double checked the leather band around her thigh that held her knives. Triple checked. Then ran her hand along them a fourth time. "What are our chances?" she finally asked.

    "High. Unless the Kreiva have gained a granule''s worth of intelligence since the last attack so many decades ago. Even then, our traps will slow them down enough for our archers to win the war. I estimate there to be about two hundred of them. The largest Vashiri tribe. At least two thirds are in fighting shape. I hope they aren¡¯t fool enough to send their younglings as well."

    Sar''tara glanced at the experienced woman. Stel''Na wore the perfect mask. She was fierce. Strong of both mind and body despite her years. She was raring for a fight. Many of the Selharr teased that her tenure as a Guardian was too short. But that was only a small part of her. The part that she showed the most. Underneath that mask, the former Guardian was also afraid. She''d been but a child when she witnessed a war. A child a mere year off her Mother''s care and yet old enough to remember the horrors of a battle.

    Stel''Na had every right to be afraid. Just as every other sister. It was a proof of their sanity and their humanity.

 Chapter 6: A Sisters Blood

    <u>Chapter 6 - A Sister''s Blood</u>

    Sar''tara''s eyes stung from a lack of sleep. For how long she''d lain awake, she could not know. But the hut was now filled with the dull grey of a creeping dawn. She grabbed her weapons and tiptoed her way out of her hut. A pointless endeavour. The other four women sharing the room had their eyes open and were staring at the ceiling, she realized.

    Outside, Stel''Na was sitting by a dying fire, staring at its last glowing embers, a wisp of smoke rising from its heart. She was hunched over and prodding at the edge of an arrow tip with her scarred fingertips. The eldest did not look to have slept at all during the night.

    The morning carried a chill. Sar''tara went back inside to grab a fur blanket and placed it around Stel''Na''s shoulders. She fetched a wooden bowl and filled it with the amber drink stored in large clay pots inside a small storehouse. Dried meats were hung from bone hooks stuck in the walls and ceiling. Sar''tara washed down a morsel with a sip of the drink, letting it burn her throat and invigorate her limbs. She then placed the bowl by Stel''Na''s side.

    "Thank you," the woman said, her voice, rugged and full of exhaustion.

    Sar''tara nodded before heading out of the village. The Kreiva settlement was to the northeast of the Seharr village. It was where their warriors were expected to approach from. The vast majority of pit traps had been placed in that general direction with only a few scattered around other areas of the village.

    The Kreiva were not expected to arrive before midday at least. But Sar''tara was too restless to wait that long. She sped through the forest until first light, the hardened soles of her bare feet pattering against cold grass slick with morning dew. She took up residence within the branches of an old oak, its height, greater than anything near it, and its trunk wide enough for three sisters to wrap their arms around.

    A black squirrel jumped from branch to branch, halting a safe distance from Sar''tara as it gnawed at an acorn. It was likely that the other Selharri were now setting up the string traps. She would have to watch for them on her way back.

    She waited for what seemed like an eternity. She felt as if she were a statue, each passing second stiffening her joints. The forest suddenly quieted as if every animal and insect knew what grimness lingered in the near future. The only sound was that of leaves gently brushing against themselves, stirred by a shallow wind.

    The quiet made Sar''tara''s soft breaths easy to hear. They echoed in her ears, accompanied by her steadily beating heart. She heard it then. A beat faster than her own heart. A subtle rumbling, slowly growing in volume. Heavy footsteps colliding with the ground. The Kreiva were approaching. Noise returned to the forest in a storm. Birds screeched as they fled from their nests. Wolves howled from behind deep thickets, and the swift gallops of deer shook every passing tree with unrest. All was soon drowned by the deafening tide of thundering footsteps that only grew louder and louder.

    Sar''tara jumped down and peered through the undergrowth, her hawk like gaze reaching very far. Bushes trembled in the distance as if the very ground beneath their stems were quaking. It was quaking, she realized, feeling vibrations running up her legs. The smallest of plants were soon trampled over by legs as thick as tree stumps that showed the flora no mercy.

    Sar''tara felt goosebumps on her arms. She swallowed a lump in her throat. The Kreiva had strange red markings set about their bodies. War paint made of blood. It didn¡¯t make them any stronger. But it made them seem more fearsome. She turned to run. Her knees buckled like that of a newborn fawn. She grit her teeth and moved along. If the mere sight of her enemies was enough to drive fear into her, she could only imagine just how poorly the youngest Selharr would manage against it.

    She burst into the village. "They''re here! They''re here!" she cried.

    Freya and the twenty-five youngest stayed within the village, behind the meager safety of its surrounding fence. The others hid themselves behind wide trees or within their branches, quickly checking their bowstrings one last time. Sar''tara ran into the storeroom and came out a second later, amber liquid dribbling down her chin. She caught sight of Kiali positioning herself halfway up an elm tree, an arrow knocked on her bow.

    The enemies soon came into view. Their high pitched cries echoed through the trees. A heart piercing screech cold enough enough to make even the bravest pause. The Vashiri war cry. Every Vashiri was taught it. But this was the first time Sar''tara was hearing it being used in practicality. It felt wrong to use it against her own sisters. She opened her mouth and responded in kind, letting rage pump through her veins. The rest of the Selharr followed suit. Their cries were overwhelmed by their more numerous enemies. Sar''tara sucked in a short breath, pulling back her bowstring, trying not to let the Kreiva''s fearsome image slow her actions.

    ***

    The wood of Kiali''s bow creaked as she drew back. She counted in her head as the enemies drew nearer. There was a soft twang as she loosed her first. The projectile slammed into the shoulder of a Kreivan. The woman barely flinched. She broke into a sprint and headed straight for Kiali as she ripped the arrow from her shoulder.

    "Aim for their legs!" Stel''Na roared. She disobeyed her own order and fired a high shot. It found a windpipe, marking the woman hit as the first casualty of the war.

    Many arrows were fired. All of them found their mark. But very few enemies were felled. They were too resilient, Kiali thought. Aiming for their legs would slow them, letting the new and deadly poison finish them off. But would that be enough to stop them in time? Would the poison be strong enough to fell these seven feet tall beasts?

    Kiali glanced at the village. Freya looked to be speaking words of encouragement to the younger sisters. Those trained were extremely capable marksmen. All the Selharr were. But with such trembling arms, their shots would far from cause their enemies harm. Kiali steeled her resolve. The Kreiva could not be allowed inside. It would be a one sided massacre if they were.

    Three hulking woman were covering much ground with their long strides, approaching the elm tree very quickly. One of them had blood rolling down her side. It was the same woman that Kiali had first hit. The poison was not working fast enough.

    Kiali drew back her bow twice more, hitting two of the women in their thighs. It stopped them in their tracks. The third tripped over a hidden string trap and fell into a pit of stakes. A shrill cry followed, stopping as suddenly as it''d begun.

    Seeing their sister fall to such a miserable death, the first two Kreiva viciously ripped out the arrows in their legs and sprinted towards the elm with twice as much ferocity. Kiali didn¡¯t have time enough to nock another arrow. They reached the tree and attempted climbing. Every branch snapped under their heavy weight. Kiali felt the urge to burst out in mocking laughter. They couldn''t climb. She could take her time with slaying them. Or let the poison run its course.

    So she thought.

    One of the Kreivans formed a fist and pulled back her arm. She roared as she swung at the elm tree. It shook violently and Kiali lost her balance. Her heart leapt to the base of her throat as an errant hand grasped at air in search for something to hold. Kiali fell from the branch.

    ***

    Sar''tara stood up tall as she fired an arrow and watched it go through an eye. She was regretting having ran out in the morning. Her organs still suffered from the lingering damage left by kresip flowers. Her lungs burned and her breaths were shorter than normal. The Kreivan women were focusing their attention on the veteran huntresses hidden behind or within the trees.

    One of them ran at Sar''tara. A short haired woman with round cheeks. She stepped into a pit and fell to her death. The sound of stakes impaling flesh made Sar''tara cringe. There were no cries of pain. The woman had likely been impaled through the throat. That enraged expression that had changed into one of shock just before she''d fallen¡­ It was hard to forget that look of fear, regret, and realization.

    Sar''tara fired again. The arrow pierced a skull with a heavy thud. The woman fell back and several others close behind her tripped over her body. The Selharr had yet to take any casualties, but the various traps were being used up too quickly.

    Sar''tara slowly retreated, walking backwards toward the village with small, and measured steps. She saw two Kreivans violently shaking a tree with all their might. Hundreds of leaves fell. Alongside them, a Selharri huntress. Sar''tara quickly nocked and fired without pausing to aim. Her arrow went through one of the Kreivan''s side. The woman went down on one knee and gasped for breath. By the looks of it, it''d slipped through her ribs and found a lung.

    The second Kreivan ignored her fallen comrade and focused her attention on the fallen Selharri. Sar''tara was too late to save her ally. She drew back her bowstring as a massive fist struck an unguarded face. She was too far to hear the cracking of bones, hearing a twang instead as her arrow sunk into the target''s temple.

    Sar''tara grit her teeth, eyes watering. The first Selharr casualty sparked fierce hatred within. The Vashiri war cry rung in her ears, harmonizing with the drum in her chest. She sought more targets and fired thrice more, one finding an eye, another a throat, and the third a heart.

    From the edge of her sight she saw two more Kreivans trying to climb an elm tree. They quickly gave up and one of them struck the tree instead. Another Selharri fell out. This time, Sar''tara sprinted towards them, firing as she went. Another shaft was buried in a temple. She drew back once more, but the fallen Selharri stood up and stuck a knife in the enemy''s gut. Sar''tara ran harder seeing that it was Kiali.

    The Kreivan woman roared and tossed Kiali as if she were just a ragdoll. The bone knife was pulled out of her gut and thrown aside. She raised high her knee to crush Kiali beneath her feet.

    Sar''tara screamed the high pitched Vashiri war cry as she leapt above a short thicket and onto the Kreivan woman''s back, plunging a poison doused arrow into the woman''s breast. She too was thrown aside. She grunted as she landed, dimly aware of various scrapes she''d suffered as she rolled on the ground. Her bow had slipped out of her hand. Her lungs desperately desired respite. She looked up to see her enemy bent low to charge her. Her hands found Kiali''s knife. She crouched low and prepared to receive the tackle.

    The Kreivan woman collided with Sar''tara and they slid a couple of feet. Sar''tara screamed and jammed the bone knife into the woman''s neck. The woman looked surprised, but still, her arms moved. Sar''tara dragged the knife across the throat. Hot blood spilled onto her. Her enemy finally went limp. Sar''tara pushed the heavy corpse away and slowly sat up. Her bow had been snapped in two by the Kreivan''s charge.

    Blood dripped down Sar''tara''s face and stained the fur cloth around her breasts. She felt a sense of pride at having killed the Kreivan. Kill more. Kill more and I''ll get to see Mother. Kiali limped towards her and held out her hand. Sar''tara winced in pain as she was pulled up. The skin on her back had been torn. She leaned against Kiali, steadying her breath. The pain in her lungs eased.

    "Is this what killing a bear is like, Sar''tara? Their muscles are too thick for our arrows to pierce. These things barely flinch when hit."

    "This is worse than bears. These things are intelligent," Sar''tara said, hissing through her teeth. Parts of her limbs burned where small cuts had been made. She squeezed the handle of the red stained knife as if meaning to crush it.

    "You look like one of those monsters Mother would tell us about. Red skinned Heartless from the War of Ashes." Kiali tried wiping the blood away from Sar''tara''s face but only ended up smearing it. She shook her head. Multiple Kreivan women were headed their way. "Take my bow and cover my blind spots. Give me your knives."

    "You can''t!" Sar''tara argued, grabbing hold of Kiali''s arm. Melee range into those hulking women was a guaranteed death sentence. Kiali wasn''t listening. She reached down to Sar''tara''s thigh and took the two knives.

    "If I can dance between five wolves, I can dance between five of my sisters," she said as she put the handle to her own knife in her mouth and bit down. She marched along dauntlessly, preparing to meet the five Kreivans heading towards them.

    Five wolves at once? Sar''tara wasn''t sure if it was a bluff or not. She nocked an arrow and drew, scathing pain spreading in thin lines as her well-toned back muscles flexed and spread her already torn skin further apart. The pain was minor. Survival meant being given the chance to take the Guardian Trials. Meant seeing Ny''Danis again. She needed to kill more to ensure no one would doubt her abilities this time.

    Sar''tara watched as Kiali deftly hopped over an attempted tackle and then ducked under a bricked fist. Her right hand flashed, the knife cutting into an eye, a scream following. Kiali''s long black hair ¡ªstill tied in a tail¡ª danced with her movements. She was beyond an expert. She used her own hair as an extension of herself, causing it to strike her enemies and obstruct their vision as if it were a whip of many threads, yet never letting it obstruct her own.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Sar''tara aimed to Kiali''s left and fired. Her arrow went through a heart. The one that had tried tackling Kiali stood up. Her back was exposed and Sar''tara loosed again, the shaft piercing through a nape. The woman went down on all fours and crawled about, gagging as she struggled to breathe. She fell down shortly after, frozen, lifeless.

    Kiali had managed to slash two throats in that time. She ducked beneath another wide swing and stuck a knife in the final woman''s knee. The kreivan grunted and went down on two knees. In a single breath, Kiali was behind her enemy. She pulled the woman by her bound hair and dragged the edge of a knife along the front of her enemy''s neck as if she were executing an animal. Blood sprayed around as the Kreivan fell to the ground.

    Sar''tara kept her eyes open as the butchery unfolded. She sneered at the corpses and nudged them with her feet. The Kreiva were getting their just desserts. But she feared Kiali was having too much fun with it.

    "I''m not having fun with this," Kiali said, as if reading Sar''tara''s mind. "I''m just trying to¡­ I''m trying to imagine that they''re animals. That what I''m killing is not my own siblings. I was angered before. Now, I''m disgusted. Thinking of them as beasts keeps me from emptying my stomach. Call it cruel if you will. I''ve already been labelled that, haven¡¯t I?"

    Sar''tara paused. Siblings? She had a sudden urge to empty her own stomach. She clasped a bloody hand over her mouth once Kiali had turned around. The bodies lying before her were all kin. Were all her sisters. Sar''tara''s vision clouded. She''d completely forgone remorse and compassion. All for a goal she blindly marched toward. Is this what her Mother really wanted out of her daughters?

    "Tara, they''re at the village," Kiali called, sprinting ahead.

    Sar''tara looked around. The Kreivan numbers had been thinned. But they still outnumbered the Selharri by at least two to one, if not more. Nearly a dozen Selharr warriors lay dead. They''d been pushed back to the village. It would soon be their last stand.

    ***

    "Everyone, breathe. Relax. Think of this as a practice hunt. Whichever makes you feel more at ease," Freya said. The girls behind her shuffled their feet, arms trembling even though they''d all been on practice hunts with mentors aside from eight year old Tavi. Mina, the closest to adulthood of the rest, had unsteady hands as well. They fired a volley in unison. Bone tips found bark and dirt. All of them aside from Mina had missed. Freya felt her own arms quake as the Kreiva approached closer. "Follow my lead," she said. She had to stand strong for the girls. Make sure to not hit any of our own."

    Freya drew back her bow. She aimed at a muscular woman who kicked at the fence around the village. The sturdy fence fell away and the girls gasped. Some fired at the woman in panic and missed by wide margins. Freya closed her eyes, arms steady, and loosed. She knew she wouldn¡¯t miss. She was as good a shot as any other established Selharri huntress. She just couldn''t bear to see the marks of pain on a sister''s face caused by her own hands. Her arrow landed within the Kreivan woman''s well carved abdomen.

    The woman grunted in pain. She ripped the arrow out and stepped within the boundaries of the village, coughing violently. There were multiple holes on her body from where lines of blood flowed. She''d been thoroughly poisoned. An arrow struck her chest. Mina''s. The woman went down on both knees, gasping for breath before finally collapsing. Mina breathed a sigh of relief. She didn¡¯t look happy. Though the woman would have died soon, it was the girl''s arrow that''d claimed the kill.

    "Sister Freya, it hurts¡­"

    "As it should, Mina." Freya blinked back her tears. Her heart felt heavy. Another reason she''d never pursued the role of a Guardian was due to her kindness. She wasn''t capable of the same cruelty as the others. She wasn''t willing to kill other humans to protect the forest. Let alone her own sisters. She hadn''t missed a single shot since the battle began. She had also deliberately not made any fatal shots. She didn''t have it in her to kill family. Even though she knew that her actions threatened the lives of the girls behind her.

    The Selharri huntresses were retreating into the village. Stel''Na came running back towards the girls. "Draw! All of you. I don''t care if you miss by a mile. Aim where I''m pointing. Fire at my word!" The girls hastened to do as they were told. Freya drew back as well, choosing a target and once more closing her eyes. "And fire!" Stel''Na commanded.

    The girls loosed just as a few dozen Kreivans burst into the clearing of the village. Half a dozen fell to fatal attacks. Another half were brought to their knees, though only temporarily. The Kreivans were getting closer. Their thundering footsteps, louder. The girls muttered amongst each other. Stel''Na ordered another volley. Mina and Freya stood obeying. The others turned tail. Tavi ran to the storehouse and hid.

    ***

    Stel''Na reached behind her back. Her quiver had three remaining arrows out of the thirty she''d started with. The callused tips of her old fingers had torn open once again. Not a single shot had been wasted. Stel''Na had killed twenty-seven of her sisters with twenty-seven arrows. The young girls were backing away in fear instead of fighting. The Kreivans had broken into the village. They were being picked off by veteran huntresses that still had arrows left in their quiver. But it wasn''t enough. Few Selharr charged into their enemies with knives in hand, screaming the Vashiri war cry. Even fewer succeeded in landing slashes or stabs, causing miniscule harm. None managed to kill. They were easily thrown aside or grabbed and broken with a mere twist of the arms.

    Stel''Na used two of her last three arrows on the two closest Kreivans. She nocked the third and drew back for the last time. It went through an open mouth that had been screaming. That mouth belonged to Midrala, she realized. The mouth of the woman that had declared the war. A shame that woman was born with a mouth!

    Stel''Na watched as one of the last remaining Selharri warriors hopelessly charged into the two dozen or so remaining Kreivans. She was grabbed by the arm and took a heavy knee to the gut. Her neck was snapped soon after. Stel''Na glanced at the girls behind her. They still had full quivers. But they''d backed off too far. She turned to Mina and Freya. The girl had emptied her quiver and Freya was chasing after a Kreivan running towards the storehouse where Tavi had gone to hide.

    Mina stood beside the eldest Selharri and drew a knife. "I-I will fight to the very end!" she declared.

    Stel''Na nodded, eyes solemn. Three remaining veteran huntresses rallied to her and all drew their knives. They were all that stood between two dozen ferocious Kreiva Vashiri women and the young Selharr girls behind. Stel''Na howled the war cry and charged into the enemy with knives in hand. From behind enemy lines, she spotted Sar''tara and Kiali rushing into the village.

    ***

    Freya panicked at the sound of Tavi''s cry. The storage gate was closed shut. A thin gate made of bound wooden sticks. Hardly enough to stop a Kreivan. It was promptly kicked down. A heart piercing scream followed. Ny''Danis, protect her! She hastily nocked an arrow and fired ¡ªeyes open¡ª just as the Kreivan woman bent down to grab Tavi. The arrow pierced the large woman''s calf. She grunted and turned around to face her foe, long bone ornaments within her hair and ears whipping around with the sudden movement.

    Freya paused. It was Ken''Via. The one that had insulted her. Freya felt her knee joints stiffen as Ken''Via''s hateful bloodlust stabbed her confidence. The large woman crouched low, sneering. Freya fired another arrow, this one going through a thick shoulder.

    Ken''Via barely flinched. She rushed forward before another arrow could be nocked. Freya leapt to her right, heart drumming, and quickly put herself between her enemy and the storehouse. Ken''Via, anticipating this movement, wheeled around and tackled her to the ground. Freya saw white as the back of her head connected with dirt. Her bow left her hands and the arrows in her quiver spilled onto the ground. "Your kindness makes you predictable, Sister," the larger woman hissed.

    Freya spat in Ken''Via''s eye and tried to push her off. The poison was taking too long to work. "Do you take pride in trying to kill children!?" she screamed.

    "No! But the weak must be culled. Know this. I will take pride in killing you, dishonourable one. You who taint the Mother''s will!" Ken''Via gurgled over her words. Blood was filling her mouth. The poison was finally spreading through her. She wrapped her hands around Freya''s neck. "I will make sure you suffer just as our Great Mother must have suffered knowing that you exist," she said as red drooled down her lips and onto Freya''s face.

    Freya struggled desperately. Her arms and legs thrashed about. Blessed Mother! Why do these daughters of yours have such a twisted mentality? She pulled a bone knife strapped to her leg and stabbed Ken''Via in the side. The woman''s eyes went wide in shock. It only served to tighten her grip. The lack of air began clouding Freya''s vision. She twisted the knife as vehemently as she could and continued to grind it further inside. Hot liquid spill onto her hand. Ken''Via finally roared and rolled over in pain.

    Freya struggled to inhale. She choked on her own breath. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Kreivan woman stand up once more, an arrow protruding from her shoulder and calf, and a knife still stuck in her side from where a fountain of blood flowed. She took slow steps towards the storehouse. How? How does she still have strength? Where is it coming from? Freya rolled over, crying, and pushed herself up.

    Tavi was standing in the doorway, shaking in fear. She fell on her rear, transfixed by the bloodied figure approaching her. A small pool formed between her legs. Freya screamed as she used the last of her strength to lunge towards Ken''Via. She managed to grab hold of the Kreivan''s bicep. The large woman turned her head and gave a blood curdling glare. She coughed violently. Freya tried pulling her away from the storehouse, but to no avail. She simply wasn''t strong enough to move such a large person. Ken''Via formed a fist with her free hand and screamed as she struck Freya''s side, shattering the ribs.

    Freya collapsed to the ground, hand clutching her side and mouth wide open ¡ªthough no sound came out. Ken''Via went down on her knees, continuing to cough blood. "Curse you, Selharri! Curse you and your wretched poisons!"

    ***

    Sar''tara drew back her bowstring and screamed the Vashiri war cry, her voice synchronizing with Kiali''s. She no longer screamed in anger, but to supress the nausea growing inside. So many bodies. So much red¡­

    The scream caused some Kreivans to turn their heads, diverting their attention from Stel''Na and the four others with her. Kiali reached the enemy rear first, quickly slashing at exposed throats as they turned to face her. Sar''tara fired three arrows in quick succession, each one piercing a nape with surgical precision. The tip of her fingers were torn, staining her bowstring. She could hardly feel the dull burning each time she drew.

    At the forefront, Stel''Na and a few others managed to dodge away from the heavy, yet slow barehanded attacks of the Kreivan women. They used their knives well, but not as skillfully as Kiali.

    One of them, a shorter girl, was thrown to the ground. Mina. Sar''tara''s grip around her bow tightened as she hastily fired an arrow. It struck a different Kreivan as the woman unintentionally stepped in between. Sar''tara drew again as Mina desperately slashed at the hulking woman that had mounted on top of her. It was to no avail. Rock hard fists bore down upon Mina''s face. Kiali reached them, howling as she leapt on to the Kreivan woman''s back, wildly stabbing at whatever point of flesh her hands found. She was promptly thrown off, but her attacks had done enough damage to force the Kreivan to cry out in pain as she bled out from multiple points.

    Sar''tara turned to the remaining foes, resisting the urge to check on Mina. Three remained, one going after Kiali. Sar''tara fired a shot into the assailer''s knee and Kiali finished the kill. The other two were quickly put down by Stel''Na and the remaining veterans.

    Is it done? Is it over? Sar''tara looked around wildly, no standing Kreivans remained. But the drumming in her heart didn''t slow. Blood rolled down her sides and front ¡ªmost of it not even her own. She shuffled over to Mina. Stel''Na already stood over the child. The remaining Selharr huddled around as well.

    Sar''tara turned away after briefly catching a glimpse, crying in silence. It was too late for the girl. In just a short few moments, her face had been completely pulverized beyond the point of recognition. Her body barely twitched with a hint of life. In time, even that stopped. No one uttered a word. They all looked up at the sky, blinking back their tears. Many sisters had fallen, but seeing the poor girl die before their very eyes left a hole within their chests.

    Sar''tara shuffled over to Freya. The older woman was caressing Tavi''s head as the child wept into her bosom. Freya gave her soft smile, her face pale, and a thin line of blood rolling down her chin. "We made it out alive," Sar''tara croaked.

    "Yes." Freya''s voice was soft. Barely audible. She sang into the eight year old''s ears.

    Have no tears my lovely sister

    Lest you trip, your pretty hands blister

    Weeping will make flowers wilt

    Weep not, smile bright and come hither

    Rest your head in your sister''s arms

    Rest and dream of our forest''s charms

    With our love you will be showered

    Grow you will into a most lovely flower

    Have no tears oh forest daughter

    Lest you''d sleep in a pool of water

    Climb the branches and reach for the heights

    Wear a smile as the sun most bright

    Sar''tara knew the song. A variation of the lullaby that Ny''Danis would sing to her children. Freya had altered it to better fit herself. She would sing it to all new arrivals to the village. It was a memory of their Mother and would soothe their ailing hearts. Freya''s voice had helped Sar''tara sleep at night when she was merely seven. She remembered the way her tears had stopped when hearing Freya''s song. Now, a memory of her Mother felt distant. Why Mother? Why would you let us do this to each other?

    Tavi got up. "I''m sorry. I-I didn''t help at all. I was scared."

    Sar''tara knelt before the girl. "Here''s a secret we don''t tell anyone," she whispered through a voice hoarse from screaming. "All of us are always afraid. Even Sister Stel''Na. The difference between a great huntress and a failed one is that the great ones know how to use their fear. Mold it into strength rather than be weighed down by it. And the first step towards that is to recognize and admit that you are afraid. You will make an amazing huntress one day, Tavi."

    The girl sniffled. She haphazardly wiped away her tears before nodding and running off to join the other group of girls.

    Sar''tara sat down beside Freya. "It''s hardly past afternoon. Yet it feels as if such a long time has passed."

    "Much too long." Freya''s voice had turned hoarse. Her chest was rising and falling very quickly. "I killed," she said softly. "I didn''t want to. In the end, I had to."

    Sar''tara looked to her sister. At her sunken eyes red from crying. Her head hung low. "A lot of cleaning up to do. The bodies will need to be cremated before they start to rot," she said, trying to put up an air of strength. "Come nightfall, this place will be littered with glowing flowers. At least it will be a beautiful sight to behold. At least¡­ A minor beauty at the expense of hundreds of our siblings. I cannot call such a thing beautiful." Sar''tara kept her own head low. A drop fell and disappeared into her skirt.

    "Neither can I."

    Sar''tara looked over. She contemplated putting her head in her sister''s lap as she had done in the past when Freya had been in her younger years. She decided against it. Freya looked as if she needed rest. To Sar''tara''s surprise, the older woman lay down and rested her head on Sar''tara''s lap. "Sister Freya?"

    "I''m¡­ sorry, Tara. I think¡­ my lung has been punctured by my bones."

    Renewed tears gathered in Sar''tara''s eyes. A heavy lump settled in her throat as if she''d swallowed a stone. "No¡­ Sister Freya. You can''t. Everyone depends on you. The girls especially. They need you. I¡­ need you."

    "Don''t¡­ fear for my passing. You said it¡­ yourself. Turn your fear¡­ into strength. Make your heart stronger. I will always¡ª" Freya gasped for breath. Her eyes went wide as she desperately tried inhaling multiple times.

    "Don''t talk. Sister Stel''Na will make you better. She makes everyone better," Sar''tara said quickly. "Just¡­ don''t leave us. Don''t leave me." She placed a hand on Freya''s cheek. It was cold. She tried swallowing the lump in her throat but it refused to leave.

    "It''s¡­ alright. I''m not leaving. I will always be with everyone in here," she said, placing a hand upon Sar''tara''s breast. "Just promise to¡­ to remember me, Tara."

    "Always," Sar''tara croaked.

    Freya stopped breathing. She passed with a gentle smile upon her lips.

 Chapter 7: Through the Wind

    <u>Chapter 7 - Through the Wind</u>

    Sar''tara found it hard to decide whether she wanted to wail or throw up. Freya lay in her arms. But everywhere she looked, she saw a corpse. The air was heavy with the stench of blood. The same smell that arose from an animal that had its throat slit now came from the bodies of the women. All of them siblings. Sar''tara cupped Freya''s cheek in one hand, seeking solace in her smile.

    Kiali, the same woman she had labelled as cruel and emotionless, wept silently next to Mina''s lifeless form. Mina''s death had been the equivalent of having a knife plunged into Sar''tara''s heart. Knowing of Freya''s passing made it feel as if someone had just rent that knife out as viciously as possible. She acted as a replacement to Ny''Danis. To everyone younger than her, Freya was a second mother.

    Sar''tara threw her head back and screamed. "Ny''Danis, why? Why did it have to come to this?"

    Stel''Na rested a hand upon her shoulder. "Tara, there will be plenty of time to mourn. We have work that needs doing."

    Sar''tara turned to face her. The eldest had an unreadable expression. No sadness. No anger. Just a blank and wearied face. Sar''tara thought it emotionless at first. But she then remembered that Stel''Na had suffered a war before. It wasn''t that she was uncompassionate. She was tired. Tired to the point that she couldn''t even shed tears.

    "I thought I would have enjoyed holding my bow again," Stel''Na said. "No part of felling my fellow sisters was enjoyable. But it was necessary. We need to cremate everyone and scatter their ashes. Come along, Tara. Your back needs ointment rubbed over it or the wound will fester. I''ll check everyone''s wounds and we can get to work. Mourn all you like after that."

    Sar''tara stared up at Stel''Na. Her voice felt hollow and distant. As if it were slowly ceasing to exist. She eventually nodded, but her tears did not stop flowing. She had to constantly wipe them away, smearing blood and salt water across her face. She walked over to Kiali and knelt down. Kiali gasped between breaths, her eyes, red and wet. She pressed her mouth to Sar''tara''s shoulder and screamed as hard as her lungs would allow. Kiali had more bottled sorrow than she let on and was finally letting it go. Sar''tara gently brushed her smooth hair. "It''s alright."

    "It''s not alright, Tara. It''s not. So many died. I tried. I tried holding it in, tried masking it with anger, but¡­ I couldn''t. Seeing Mina get¡­ by our own sister no less," Kiali squeezed Sar''tara''s hands. "I''m so tired, Tara. Tired of everything. Of living. Why would Mother allow this?"

    "I don''t know," Sar''tara whispered. I don''t know. "Come Sister. The longer these bodies remain here, the more torment their souls suffer. We must scatter their ashes through the wind so that their souls can return to Ny''Danis,"

    To the Mother who cared for us, raised us, and then¡­abandoned us. And yet, I''d still give the world to be held by you again, Mother.

    "The more we cry, the more pain the dead feel," Sar''tara said. Ny''Danis had her reasons. She had to. A few stronger Guardians was worth all the sacrifice. To preserve the entirety of the forest from an outside threat. But what outside threat? It had been centuries since wicked men had last besieged the forest, seeking the Divine Artifacts in Ny''Danis'' possession. Maybe the wickedness had passed. Maybe there was no longer a reason to protect the forest. No reason to sacrifice so many lives. Maybe¡­ Maybe Mother is wrong.

    Sar''tara got to her feet and lumbered about with a hunched back. Ny''Danis couldn''t be wrong. If she were wrong, then her daughters'' existence had no meaning. She was the Forest Deity. A being created by the Creator. A being that had lived for thousands of years. Had thousands of years'' worth of knowledge and wisdom. No. She couldn''t be wrong. I''m wrong for even questioning this.

    But all of the deaths. All of the mindless killing¡­

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    No! Sar''tara violently shook her head, pushing such thoughts away. Everyone slowly rose to their feet and set to work. Dried branches and sticks were gathered and placed at the village center. Two separate cremation beds were created; one for the fallen Selharr, and another larger one for the many Kreiva. Sar''tara sat down heavily upon a stone stool for a brief rest, her face stiff from the dried blood and tears. The subtlest of movements with her lips or eyes stretched her skin and caused sharp pains. Stel''Na approached her, a small clay jar of ointment in her hand. She knelt down and started gently applying it to Sar''tara''s back. It stung as if a handful of gravel were being smeared upon it. "Sister, is Mother¡­"

    "Is Mother what?"

    "Nothing," Sar''tara said, closing her eyes. "I just wish she would come here. Wish I could be held by her¡­"

    "I would like to cry in her arms as well," Stel''Na said, voice cracking.

    "Can you not go see her?"

    "And leave you all here while I alone received comfort for my sorrows?"

    Sar''tara spoke no further, sensing cracks in Stel''Na''s mask. If the eldest were to break down, the rest would follow. Once everyone had been treated, the remaining villagers began bringing the bodies of their fallen siblings and placing them upon the bed of wooden branches. Kreiva Vashiri were the most difficult to move. More so for the ones that had fallen into pits. The adults among the Selharr were few. Only six remained and they were all exhausted. The younger girls had a difficult time moving so much weight. The cruel state that many corpses were in caused all the Selharr, Stel''Na included, to empty their stomachs at least once.

    Dusk was fast approaching. Sar''tara knelt before Freya''s body and placed a kiss on her forehead before carrying it to the bed of wood. What was left of the Selharr Vashiri washed themselves at the spring in preparation for the funeral. The blood stained forest floor cleansed itself as the soil absorbed all of the red splattered against leaves of plants and tree trunks. In their place, budding flowers grew to full maturity within seconds. A blessing of the Forest Deity. The Papillion Forest existed through Ny''Danis. It was her life force that allowed all things to grow and bloom. That same life force existed in the blood of her daughters.

    The stench of a battlefield faded and was replaced by the sweet and strong scent of everflowers. Their petals opened and their luminous properties shone bright. Torna with their black crescent petals and spots of glowing violet. Shade-wisp, a royal blue flower with glowing pale blue edges on its five curved petals. Sitril, a scarlet flower with four triangular petals and glowing blue pistils. Kresip with its soft white petals and bright yellow center. It made for a gorgeous sight. It would be just that for any new girls that Ny''Danis would one day send to the village. But for those that were already there, it would be a constant reminder of a gruesome battle.

    The villagers gathered at the village center and stood in a single line organized by age whilst holding each other''s hands. Stel''Na lit the funeral pyres and took her position at one end of the line. Everyone began humming in a low voice. Vashiri saw their dead off with a wordless song. Voices of the living would aid the souls of the fallen through the dark of the afterlife. At the end of that long path, their Mother awaited them. Those that failed to reach the end would be stuck in a boundless umbra for all eternity. Or so the belief went. No one knew for certain. Ny''Danis never answered questions regarding death.

    Kiali gripped Sar''tara''s hand tight. Everyone''s eyes were closed. Sar''tara had no doubt that her sister was crying still. Her own voice began to fumble as the lump in her throat returned. She paused for a breath and swallowed before continuing the low voiced hum. The Selharr stood fixated in a single position until the crackling of flames could no longer be heard. Until the glowing light before them died.

    Stel''Na broke away from the line. "Gather the ashes of the Kreiva and store them in empty clay pots. With none returning to their village, they will know that they have lost. Their young and perhaps a few elders will likely be here tomorrow to claim them. Scatter those of our own through the wind. Then, you can all cry the night away. But¡­" Stel''Na suddenly coughed. It seemed forced. "But remember your pride as daughters of the forest. Your pride as hunters. We drink to honor the dead of both sides. We drink to celebrate their memories and strength. The Vashiri do not mourn the dead for more than a day. Any tears shed after tonight will be disrespectful to the memories of those fallen. And remember, the battle is over. We do not hold grudges against our own siblings. We will feast with the Kreiva tomorrow and be rid of any harsh feelings we may have."

    Stel''Na stormed off into the storehouse and began setting wooden bowls and filling them with drink. Sar''tara thought she saw a glint of light in her eldest sister''s eye. The kind of glint caused by moonlight bouncing off of water. Stel''Na''s mask was on the verge of shattering. Her eyes were full of imprisoned tears begging to be let out. She would spend the night drinking to drown away her sorrow rather than drink in celebration. As would everyone else.

    Not a single more word was spoken that night. The Selharr resigned themselves to silent weeping or drinking. Or both.

 Chapter 8: Protectors and Oppressors

    <u>Chapter 8 - Protectors and Oppressors</u>

    The Sun''s eyes snapped open. He fell off of his chair, mouth agape and gasping for breath. One hand was pressed against the cold stone floor to support his weight whilst the other clutched at his chest. A book slipped off the table on which he''d been resting his head. He barely noticed it. His entire body was cold, clothes sticking to him as if he''d just come out of a frigid pond.

    He let out a feral scream.

    No one heard it. No one was near. He was seldom disturbed so high up in his tower. The Sun pressed down on his chest as if to supress his beating heart. How long had it been since he''d last felt such pain? A few decades? It didn''t stop. He felt as if someone had stuck a razor inside and was carefully cutting away his heartstrings one by one. He collapsed, cheek pressed against barren stone. He barely twitched, mouth hanging open and drooling, eyes rolled back inside his head.

    And then it stopped.

    The small enclosed room basked in the single ray of dawn light that entered through the window. The Sun rolled on his back, chest rising and falling very quickly. He let his hand slip off his chest and rest on the floor. His fingers touched the fallen book, causing him to frown. The pages would have folds in them. Luckily it wasn''t the book on Chronary. Else the pages may have crumbled into dust. He slowly stood, knees trembling. He smoothed out the pages of the book before placing it back on the table. A wide smile spread on his lips. It had to be now. The opportunity he''d been searching for had finally come.

    The Papillion Forest''s numbers had thinned once more.

    How many times was that now? It had been recorded. The Sun pulled open his drawers, shifting through multiple notebooks before he''d finally found what he was searching for. Three times. Three times within the last century to be exact. The witches of the forest were killing each other again. Portions of Ny''Danis'' life was being cut away. And he felt it. The Sun hadn''t been prepared before. But this time, he was more than ready. He now had an army. He now had an Artifact of his own.

    He put on a polished grey helmet with a golden mask attached to the front. The back of the helmet held a disk with dozens of points. A similar sword leaned against the side of his desk. The pommel shone a polished silver. The handle, black. The end of the hilt had a golden disk with many points. From its center extended a blade of pure gold alloy.

    The Thousand Sun Sword.

    A relic from before the War of Ashes. An Artifact gifted to man by the Goddess. Its magic, as with all Artifacts on Illusterra, worked differently from Chronary. There was no cost to its creation. No steep price to its use. Artifacts were objects of the divine gifted to humanity for ease of living. Much like healers. And Flame Bearers. He strapped the sword to his waist and wrapped himself in a long and hoodless white cloak. The cloak was bound by a three point star pin at the base of his throat.

    Once ready, he pulled open the heavy wooden door to his room, thick muscles flexing. He then descended down the spiralling steps of the tower. The staircase was illuminated by orange luminite ¡ªstones of light that came in shades of white, pale blue and orange¡ª embedded into the walls. Their light shone in the darks of his eyes. He could already hear the screams. See the flames. Smell the smoke from burning wood. The malice tipped smile on his lips only stretched further.

    ***

    Kalin Serene wiped away sweat from his brow. He placed the blunt two-handed training sword back on the weapons rack, letting out a long exhale. Morning was in full swing, and his only free time ¡ªtime he spent training, was at its end. A long day of work lay ahead of him.

    "They say I''m your equal," Jengard Rask said, "but I seldom get the better of you in our bouts."

    Kalin grunted. He looked up, squinting at the clear blue sky. Such a terrible day to spend holed up inside. As the Duke of Xenaria, his responsibilities were too many for time spent in leisure. What did it matter? He had no one to spend a beautiful day with anyway.

    "Your Grace?"

    "Equal¡­" Kalin echoed. Jengard Rask was his second in command. An ardent military commander famed both within Xenaria''s borders and outside of it. Rask stood just as high as Kalin but had more bulk in his arms. "I suppose that term is subjective, even when applied a specific context."

    "How so?" the man asked, scratching his barely existing beard. "You''re a better swordsman than me. That''s a fact."

    "Define the term ''swordsman'', Rask. I beat you in our bouts because I''m just barely faster than you. Battles on the field are not one on one. You''ve fought on the frontlines many a time. On the field, you are the better swordsman."

    Rask crossed his arms. "That''s untested. You''ve never fought in the vanguard ¡ªthat being a testament of your skill in strategy. Of course, I wouldn''t allow you to take to the van unless our morale was on the verge of collapsing."

    Kalin stretched his arms, giving the commander a sidelong glance. "Let''s hope it remains untested. Better yet, hope for an end to all conflict." He strode off, marching through the garrison halls of Arcaeus Peak. On duty guards at gates and corners lowered their heads and pressed a hand to their chests in salute as he passed them by.

    Kalin made his way to the top of the fortress where his quarters were. Two rooms belonged to him; one his bedroom and the other his study. Both of humble size compared to the rooms of his manor at the city of Metsiphon. He entered the first ¡ªa room with a small bookshelf of fictional works, a bed, a wardrobe, and an unlit hearth¡ª to fit himself with a change of clothes, removing a plain tight fitted white shirt with something looser and of similar color. He then entered the more dreaded room. His study was simple, containing two bookshelves at the sides, another unlit hearth and a single window behind his desk and chair.

    Kalin often found himself spending too much time in his study. There were too many things to go through. Reports from his own lands. Reports of neighboring lands and the movements of their armies and political circles. He had had a minor break of late. The Empire of Tarmia had halted their constant attempts at encroaching upon Xenarian borders. Constant skirmishes caused a torrent of reports to stream in. The Empire was an expansionary nation, seeking new territory at every turn. They''d placed a man by the name of Kazir as commander of their forces near Xenaria. Kazir was both an assassin and a famed military general. His strategies were peculiar and difficult to navigate around. Kalin had clashed blades with the man about five years past, when Kazir had tried assassinating Kalin''s father, Sialin.

    The Empire had pulled back their forces and had instead focused their attention towards Estraea, the nation directly above them. Kalin could only hope Estraea held them at bay for a long while yet. Better yet they just stop their aggressions entirely. As if. The nature of humans was to want more. Most humans. Kalin didn''t need more. He had enough already. He only cared about the safety of Xenaria and her people.

    He let out a sigh as he approached his desk. Stacks of paper were set about them. As well as a few envelopes with fancy seals. Marriage proposals ¡ªhe dreaded them the most. Almost all of them came from lesser nobles with no right to ask for his hand. But he had to craft intricate responses for them all the same. Sooner or later, he would need to get married to continue the line of High House Serene.

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    Kalin stopped to look out of his window rather than sitting down. He glanced to the southwest, peering off towards the horizon. The Papillion Forest stood out to him as a green blur. A forest within Xenaria''s borders, though unexplored by its people. Anyone nearing the trees turned up dead. The forest had inhabitants. That much was obvious. But these inhabitants weren''t particularly fond of outsiders.

    Kalin wished he could find some means to contact these people. To tell them that he meant them no harm. They were, after all, Xenarians residing within the Serene demesne. Thus their protection was his responsibility. The forest had long been rumored to hide Artifacts, drawing eyes from both Tarmia and the Astral Union. Eyes are all they''ll ever draw so long as I''m still breathing.

    Still, Kalin would have preferred to know if it did have Artifacts and if yes, what kind. Not for his own gain, but for the nation. Anything that would allow him to better protect the nation''s borders would be most welcome. Xenaria only possessed one known Artifact and that was in the hands of Dahlia Lakris, the nation''s soon to be queen. High House Lakris had succeeded High House Zz''tai, those that were called Flame Bearers, when the Zz''tai had been outed as corrupt darkspawn centuries ago. Muddled were the details of that particular point in time, making some historians question whether the deposing had been naught but a power grab.

    Kalin sat down in his chair, smoothing out his already neatly trimmed beard. He ran one hand through his short light brown hair whilst another shifted through pages on his desk. He''d barely started reading the first of them when a subtle knock came from his door. "Enter," he commanded in a loud voice.

    The door opened and an out of breath man dressed in camouflaged garb of green and brown stepped in. It was an outfit typical for messengers and scouts. His dark green cloak was bound by a silver eagle pin at the base of his throat. "Your Grace¡­" the man breathed.

    Kalin held up a hand, letting the man catch his breath. "Speak," he said after a while.

    "Report from the Empire of Tarmia. They''ve conquered the Estraean city of Grace and are now marching back towards our borders."

    Kalin nodded, letting not a hint of surprise or worry appear on his face. He was the stone wall of Xenaria. He had to maintain a solid impression so as to not worry his subjects. Already? It had barely been a lunar month since Tarmia had set their sights on Estraea. The better part of that month should have been required to march towards the nation. To have captured one of their main cities in so small a time¡­ "Any details of how?"

    "Yes. Er, Lady Ashlay von Solsetur opened the gates to them for promise of maintaining rule of the city. They had her executed anyway."

    Kalin shook his head. Fool woman. Executed. Fitting for a despot. "Go and inform Commander Rask. Have him double watch at the borders."

    The man saluted. "Your Grace," he said, giving a short bow before leaving the room.

    Kalin clenched his fist, grimacing. He exhaled through gritted teeth. "Flames burn my soul. Opening the gates when you''re charged with protecting your people." He stood up and opened his window for some fresh air. Loose pages on his desk were blown to the floor. More than anything, Kalin despised terrible leadership.

    ***

    "Your Brilliance, I''m not in agreement with this," Orion said. He had been waiting at the gates of the citadel. "To burn an entire forest merely from rumors of darkspawn?"

    The Sun scowled. Orion was one of the Constellation Judges of the Astral Union. A commander of one of the larger inquisition legions. His dark near shoulder length hair split down the center. And he had eyes that would put emerald gemstones to shame. He was terribly handsome. The Sun hated that, though denying that those feelings were because of jealousy. Orion was the kind of man women fawned over. He was also a complete zealot for the Union''s mission of destroying darkspawn. Too useful to get rid of. "Are you doubting me, Judge Orion?"

    "Never, Your Brilliance. It''s just that¡ª"

    "Orion!" The Sun roared. "Who am I?"

    The man tilted his head, frowning, as if not understanding the question. "You are The Lord Sun, master of the Thousand Sun City."

    The Sun rolled his eyes. "What am I, first and foremost?"

    "A scholar, most renowned, and the most learned in all the world."

    "And yet you still doubt my words? Still doubt the research I''ve put into this?" The Sun asked, arms crossed.

    "Forgive me, brilliance."

    "Will you be joining me for this assault, then?"

    "I''m afraid I cannot," Orion answered. "My inquisition legion is too far from the forest. I merely arrived back at the city to inform you that I may have a location on Balihann Zz''tai. I also need a few spare Gate Stones."

    The Sun nodded. Balihann was supposed to be one of the last two surviving members of the Flame Bearers. They needed to be wiped out completely. The Sun fished out a couple of stones from his pockets. They were marked with a Chronary rune saying ''gate''. Gate Stones could open portals to a place its user had been, extracting life force equal to the distance travelled. They were one of the few completely benign uses of Chronary. "I will pray to the Goddess for your success. When next we meet, I wish to hear that Balihann is dead." Orion nodded, taking the stones.

    The Sun stepped towards the great iron gates of the Sun City''s citadel. Six guards ¡ªthree for each gate¡ª pulled upon the horizontal bars of the door. Its hinges groaned with the ferocity of a war horn as it opened, spilling fading daylight inside. Evening had come so quickly since he''d ordered the Astral Union''s legions to prepare. Remaining daylight was no brighter than orange luminite stones embedded into the citadel''s interior or kept hung from chandeliers. The city''s surrounding walls were too high, enshrouding most everything in perpetual shade.

    The Sun''s honor guard contingent awaited him, each one mounted and armored. Their breastplates bore the image of a sun and their cloaks were dark as night with white specks to mimic stars. They each wore a helmet similar to their lord and master, though theirs were made of pure iron and missing the gold mask.

    "Your Brilliance," a guardsman began, helm at his side. He was bald, though had a thick enough dark beard to make up for it. His pinewood skin was riddled with red markings ¡ªChronary runes written in his own blood. Runes The Sun had written for him. All of his honor guard were as such. The magic would give them temporary immunity to death, consuming a portion of their life each time they took a wound. It had to be enough to survive the witches of the forest. "The legions are ready. They await your command."

    "Have messengers been sent to each Constellation''s position?"

    "Yes, brilliance. Though if I may, I don''t think they''ll be informed in time to join in the assault."

    "That isn''t their purpose. The Constellations need to be aware of our actions and be prepared as necessary in the event our assault is considered too aggressive by our neighbors. Judge Vulpecula especially. He was tasked with sparking a full scale war between Xenaria and the Empire to weaken those states. Though, that may not be necessary if our attack succeeds. Where is he currently stationed again?"

    "Judge Vulpecula is still near the forest of Estr¨¦."

    The Sun nodded. He walked past the proud soldier, skipping down the short flight of stairs before the citadel. A carriage had been prepared at its base. Multiple dark cloaked guards on horseback were on either side of it. The Sun turned to face the guard following after him, grabbing the man by the throat. "What is this?" he hissed. "We aren''t going for a stroll through town! Send the carriage back."

    "Your Brilliance, my apologies. I''d assumed-"

    "Assumed? Do not dare to utter that word before a scholar!" The Sun turned to the honor guard contingent. "You," he said, pointing at one of them, "Get off. I''ll be borrowing your horse." The guard did as he was told. Many runes could be seen on his exposed neck.

    The Sun mounted the horse and led his men through the cobblestone streets. Bells at each peak of the citadel were rung. In response, a horn sounded from the top of the third inner wall. Iron gears within them turned. A thick iron portcullis blocking the gateway of the third wall was lifted. The Sun dug his heel into his horse and urged it to go faster. He clicked his tongue, scowling. The city streets were crowded.

    "Make way! Make way for his brilliance, The Lord Sun!" the guardsmen cried.

    Citizens shouted and scrambled, dropping their belongings as they stepped to the side of the street. Their shadow covered faces bore creases of worry and fright, some gasping as the horses galloped by. It was better than showing no emotion at all. Much like the city itself. Towering walls cast long shadows over nearly all.

    Horns from the second inner wall sounded as the guards atop spotted their lord approaching. The second wall''s gateway was opened. Once more the guards shouted. At the very end, the first wall, the one surrounding the entire city, opened its gates. The drawbridge had already been lowered. The Lord Sun was greeted again by the hollowed light in the sky as his horse set foot on the drawbridge. This light was of dusk beginning. A light with more fire than at all other times of day. The final effort before nightfall greeted the world and the stars and moon took over the duty of spreading light.

    Legions of the Astral Union stood ready in an organized fashion in the fields beyond. Their leader rode to the front. "March!" he shouted. No words of encouragement were spoken. None were needed. Everyone had their own motivations aside from obedience. Thousands of soldiers marched as they had been commanded, all heading towards a single location.

    The Papillion Forest.

 Chapter 9: Light on the Horizon

    <u>Chapter 9 - Light on the Horizon</u>

    Sar''tara, being the first of her sisters to awaken, found her joints going rigid upon seeing the large women gathered at the entrance to the village. She fumbled for her bow. It was not strapped to her back. She was met instead with stinging pain from stretching the torn parts of her skin. She stepped about deliriously while feeling her legs for a knife. Her hands found nothing but skin. She''d forgotten her weapons. Grimacing, she spun in search of something to use with which to defend herself. It took many breaths for haze to clear from her memory.

    The Kreiva Vashiri were no longer enemies. Just as Stel''Na had said, their huntresses had arrived to receive ashes of their fallen. They whispered amongst themselves, standing just outside the village fence. They gestured in Sar''tara''s direction and stole wary glances, as if half expecting a conflict to break out.

    Sar''tara stumbled over to the group of Kreivans. They shifted their feet. Their caution disappeared upon seeing her approach alone and unarmed. She saw then just how shattered they looked. The prideful Kreiva were standing with their heads low and shoulders slumped. She wondered how much of that was due to pride alone and how much was due to the pain of losing fellow tribe members. Fellow sisters. Ny''Danis, why? One of them stood up.

    "I, Rea Vashiri, offer my greetings."

    Sar''tara nodded, recognizing the familiar face. She opened her mouth to speak but coughed instead. It felt as if dry dirt had been rubbed along the insides of her cheeks. Her tongue swished about, trying to moisten its surroundings but it was just as dry as every other part.

    Rea held up a waterskin. Sar''tara looked up with narrowed eyes and the woman offered a soft smile. A genuine smile. Sar''tara looked down. The Kreiva wouldn''t poison her. If they wanted her dead, she would''ve been dead already. "Drink, sister," Rea said. "A dry mouth is a terrible feeling."

    Sar''tara nodded, taking the waterskin. Rea maintained a kind expression. She had full lips that didn''t seem to fit on a face with a strong jawline unless she were smiling. Her black hair had been separated into three braids, all of them tied at the base with bone ornaments. "Thank you," Sar''tara grumbled after having taken a few sips.

    "Did my fellow sisters fight valiantly at least?"

    Sar''tara''s crushed the waterskin in her hands. No, they died pitifully she wanted to say. Her face grew hot. She had an urge to spit in the woman''s face. Deep rooted negative feelings sprouted to the forefront of her thoughts.

    "I''m sorry. That was the wrong question," Rea quickly said. "I-there''s no adults left among us. Everyone ¡ªeveryone that participated I mean¡ª they really meant to wipe out the Selharr. We few remained and are the last of the Kreiva adults." Rea turned her head away, a tear drop falling out of her eye. "This was a terrible affair. We have near seventy children left in our village. They''ll never again see their elder sisters whom they looked up to. I imagine it''s much the same for you."

    Sar''tara closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The pain of loss was not an easy thing to forget. But the women before her were her siblings. They were grieved too. They''d lost members of their tribe much the same. "Your sisters¡­ No. Our sisters. They fought well," Sar''tara said. "They were brave and strong. They were terribly difficult to kill. I say this out of respect. Their strength was beyond our imagining." It was the truth. As irrational as their attack plan was, the Kreiva fought without weapons. They knowingly charged straight into a tribe of expert archers without a shred of hesitation. A tribe known to use poisons as well.

    "Thank you for those words, Sister Sar''tara. Please, give us the ashes of our huntresses and we will be on our way. We do not want to remain here. The sight of us may cause grievances and frighten the younger ones."

    "The war is over. We are all daughters of the Great Mother. Yesterday was a day of death. There shouldn''t be any hate left between us," Sar''tara said, doubting her own words and suppressing that doubt at the same time. "It will be better to rid ourselves of any painful feelings rather than potentially harbor a grudge for years to come. I ask that you join us for a feast. I don''t imagine our Mother relishes the thought of her daughters constantly in violent conflict with one another." I didn''t imagine she''d ever allow it at all.

    Rea considered a moment, glancing back at the other Kreiva. They nodded towards her. "Then we will stay a while longer."

    As expected, the atmosphere in the village was full of tension once most Selharri had awakened. The girls especially kept their distance, huddled together like a herd and muttering amongst themselves while shuffling their feet, unaware that their words were loud enough to catch. The youngest one never left her hut. Sar''tara spotted Tavi constantly poking her head out an empty doorway. She made her way over to the girl. "Frightened?"

    Tavi shook her head. Her wet eyes gave away the obvious lie.

    Sar''tara lent a hand. "They won''t hurt you," she assured.

    "But Freya''s gone because of them!" Tavi suddenly screamed.

    Sar''tara kept her hand outstretched. Freya was the most loved amongst the girls. "Not them. The ones that attacked are gone. It''s¡­ It''s not right that you hate them¡­" Sar''tara swallowed hard, finding her own voice cracking at the memory of Freya''s final smile. Tavi didn''t budge. Sar''tara picked the girl up with both arms and carried her off, using her as an excuse to hold on to someone else''s warmth. Tavi squealed but didn''t thrash about like Sar''tara had expected. She set the girl down before the group of Kreivans. "Greet yourself," she whispered, kneeling before Tavi and holding her hands.

    "T-Tavi Vash-iw-shri," she managed as her knees trembled. She was on the verge of tears and opened her mouth to cry out. One of the Kreivan women quickly pushed a dark piece of meat into her mouth to stuff her voice. Tavi''s eyes went wide in horror.

    "Eat and grow strong!" the woman declared.

    Sar''tara flinched, hand reaching down for the knives she didn''t have.

    Rea slapped the woman across the face. "That is no way to treat a child, Nyla. She could choke on it."

    Tavi was already crying. Crying while chewing. "Ish weally good," she croaked. Sar''tara glanced at her and relaxed her arms.

    "Of course it is! Its bear meat. Salted might I add. Collected and filtered from the sediment in the river. We only brought ten small pieces!" Nyla said.

    Rea gasped. "You fool! Bear meat is too tough for children. She could lose her teeth trying to grind that down."

    Sar''tara stood up, eyes narrowing. The Kreiva had come with a tribute as a sign of reconciliation. "You tried leaving early without offering your gift, Sister Rea?"

    "That was not our intent. The gift is an offering. We declared a war and we lost it. I meant to leave it here."

    Sar''tara nodded, biting her lips. She still wasn''t comfortable with their presence and was regretting asking them to stay. She looked back. No one else from the Selharr were approaching the few Kreivan women. They needed to bond. As pained as Sar''tara felt, letting the Kreiva leave with this kind of an atmosphere would lead to further feelings of enmity. Mother should have stopped us. Should have been here. Should be here now¡­

    A sudden thought occurred to Sar''tara. "Tavi, stay here," she ordered. She ran to the storehouse and returned with a small clay jar and a bundle of dried herbs. "Our own salt collection. We haven''t figured an appropriate time to use it. I feel now would be best," Sar''tara said, feigning a smile to hide her clenched teeth. Wasting such precious resources on the Kreiva¡­ No. She was using them on her sisters. She needed to wash away her own disdainful feelings. "Some dried rosemary and thyme as well. This feast ought to be memorable!" She needed this as much as the other Selharr. Good food and drink would do well to mediate between negative feelings.

    "A happy memory to wash yesterday''s sorrow?" Rea asked.

    "Yes. Exactly that."

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    The women set themselves to work, placing the meat on stone slabs used for cutting. They rubbed the aromatic herbs and salt into the meat and allowed it to sit so that it would become more fragrant with the passage of time. A few sisters were set to guard the food from prowling carrion birds perched on shedding branches. The tense atmosphere slowly but surely began to dissipate.

    Stel''Na was the last to awake out of all the Selharr, her appearance disheveled as had become the norm for her after a night of drinking. She stumbled about while mumbling incomprehensible words, squinting with a scowl as Selharr and Kreiva mingled. She examined the food set about the stone slabs and bent down to pick one up.

    Sar''tara slapped away her eldest sister''s hand. "Not until evening!" she announced with her hands on her hips, knowing it to be extremely rude. Some of the girls giggled, earning themselves a foggy eyed glare from Stel''Na. More, Sar''tara thought. They needed to laugh more. "Did Mother ever tell you the stories of Lilith Lilac?" she asked, raising her voice.

    "What of it?" Stel''Na groaned.

    "I always had this image of her. A woman whose beauty even Mother praised. A peerless beauty that had brought with it arrogance. And in her arrogance, she fell from her high standing and became the hideous eight eyed and eight legged creature known as Griva."

    "I seem to recall a story like that. There is a valuable lesson in it. I''m certain Mother related that story to all of us at one point of our childhood. What is its relevance here?"

    Sar''tara''s lips thinned and spread wide. Stel''Na frowned at the mischievous smile. "If you had four pairs of eyes, Sister, you''d be the spitting image of Griva. Or Griva how I imagined her, with frizzled grey hair and baggy red eyes."

    Everyone laughed at the remark. Evidently, they all knew the story. Stel''Na didn''t look displeased. She knew Sar''tara''s true intent was to ease any remaining tensions between the two tribes.

    Kiali suddenly came from behind Sar''tara and slapped her back, causing her to cry out. "This coming from the woman that looked like red skinned Heartless yesterday! At least our Kreivan Sisters had the decency to paint intricate patterns on themselves whereas you just dipped your face into a pile of blood and dirt!"

    Sar''tara glared at Kiali. "That is not how I remember things!"

    "Same here! But exaggerating events is certainly much more entertaining than simply recounting them!"

    "Maybe I ought to recount exactly how I came to look like that!" Sar''tara said, fists closed. She knew herself to be going too far. She was glad Kiali had regained some of her heart.

    Both sisters cried out as Stel''Na grabbed them by the ear. "Or maybe I should recount how the both of you stepped in deer droppings when I took you out for a practice hunt all those years ago. It never happened, but it''d make for an amusing story."

    Everyone was laughing by this point in time. The slightly deeper voiced Kreivans laughed louder than most. Sar''tara closed her eyes and took in the sounds. This was it. This was what she wanted. What should always have been. The war should have never happened¡­ Why did the Vashiri live separate from each other? Why couldn''t they always be together? Always be this merry?

    Competition.

    But was that the only answer? Would Ny''Danis allow them to kill each other just for competition? Sar''tara thought harder, wearing a smile and laughing along when others did as well. Is it specialization? Each Vashiri tribe excelled at different types of combat. Used different weapons. Sar''tara glanced at a Kreivan. Or no weapons. Was it to counter the varying threats from the outside? Was that enough to allow bloodshed between siblings?

    She pushed her worries to the back of her mind. She rejoined her sisters in full, letting herself feel the enjoyment of the feast. Though, the feelings never entered her heart as they once did when celebrating successful hunts with her Selharr sisters. It instead danced upon her skin and flitted away at every intrusion of silence ¡ªno matter how slight that silence was.

    Come nightfall, the Vashiri feasted upon their earlier prepared foods. They shared stories of embarrassment amongst each other. And they drank themselves unconscious. Sar''tara once again drank to drown her worries and sorrows. By the movements of some of her sisters ¡ªKreivans included, they did the same. All around them, everflowers glowed.

    ***

    Sar''tara twisted her lush hair to rid it of any excess water from her bath. Her wounds had closed and her insides felt a lot more stable. Though, her head throbbed from too much drinking. The Kreiva had left early in the morning, showing no signs of a hangover. They truly had different bodies.

    No nymphs were at the spring. Sar''tara had spotted a green skinned dryad sitting in a leafless tree a while back but it was now gone. She wondered if it was because of the war. If they''d been frightened off after all of the killing. It would only have been natural. She returned to the village, keeping her head low. It felt strange without the nymphs. Hollow even. Though Sar''tara wasn''t fond of them, their presence was something she''d come to accept as normal. Without them, a piece of herself felt missing.

    She entered the Selharr village, passing by some girls who were on their way to the spring. Others practiced archery whilst a few more aided their elders in gathering firewood or creating medicines. Kiali was going over her weapons. It was her turn to hunt next. Sar''tara wondered if anything would even count towards a huntress''s merit at this point. The village still needed food. As such, a huntress needed to go out. But the Selharr had six adults remaining ¡ªone a retired Guardian who no longer left for hunts. Was it even possible to send anyone to the Guardian Trials with such a small number remaining?

    Sar''tara wasn''t certain if she''d done enough to prove herself during the war. No council had been held to decide upon it. Stel''Na and Kiali were the last of the council left alive. But Sar''tara needed to go. The Guardian Trials ¡ªher lifelong goal¡ª was now just an afterthought. She needed to go for answers. She had so many questions for Ny''Danis.

    "I''m sending you to see Mother in a few days," Stel''Na said as Sar''tara walked by.

    Sar''tara nodded, waving her hand offhandedly. "Yes. I need to see Mother more than I want to see¡­ What?" She looked up, incredulous.

    "I''m sending you and Kiali to take the Guardian Trials. You two have proven yourselves. As one of the last remaining members of our council, I''ve taken it upon myself to see this through."

    Sar''tara opened her mouth to speak. And then closed it. Ny''Danis'' beautiful face surfaced in her mind. Silver hair and multi-colored eyes. She suddenly remembered everything. She hugged herself, imagining her Mother''s caring embrace. Imagining her singing voice and boundless warmth. Everything, every negative thought, question, or doubt left her. Ny''Danis wasn''t wrong. Couldn''t be wrong. She had reasons. Must have reasons. She was a deity.

    Stel''Na walked away to go and inform Kiali. Sar''tara blinked a few times. She looked around the Selharr village. It was empty. Emptier than it should have been. All her doubts came back in a torrent, threatening to swallow her and carry her away to a distant abyss. Everything Sar''tara had worked towards had come to fruition. Her life goal, her heart''s desire, now in her hands. She would once again get to see her beloved Mother. Her eyes ran through the dirt paths of the village. She didn''t see brown. She saw disgust. Dark red mingled with soil to create a thick and putrid stench hanging in the air. Corpses littered everywhere. Bodies of Selharr and Kreiva alike. Bodies of her siblings. Siblings that she should have loved as much as her Mother, but had never learned to love. Women that she had slain as if they were outsiders invading.

    Kiali approached, wearing a wide but obviously fake smile. Sar''tara wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her tight. Kiali did the same. Sar''tara was happy. But also not. She didn''t know what to feel. A drop of water fell on her shoulder. She heard Kiali sniffle. "It''s alright," Sar''tara whispered. "Mother will help us. She has her reasons for allowing all that has come to pass."

    Kiali pulled away, nodding, wiping her tears. "I''m embarrassing, aren''t I? I''m breaking down when I''m the older one. So much for Kiali the Cruel."

    "That epithet was never meant to be positive."

    "I wear it nonetheless. It sticks. Especially after what I did during the battle."

    "What we all did¡­" Sar''tara said softly.

    "But Mother cannot be wrong."

    Sar''tara looked up. Kiali''s voice had no confidence. She nodded. But she didn''t believe it. And she knew Kiali had her doubts as well.

    ***

    Stel''Na stepped out and kissed both huntresses on the forehead. A few days had passed since she''d made her decision. Sar''tara and Kiali had recovered from their wounds. But their faces bore no traces of excitement. Unhealed scars remained on their hearts just as everyone else.

    "May Ny''Danis'' blessing be upon you two always," Stel''Na said. The rest of the Selharr stood lined up behind her to bid the huntresses farewell. "We will pray for your success and safe return. But that will ultimately depend on you and you alone. Neither of you will be a helper to the other during your Trials. The Trials are conducted alone. I cannot reveal any more information. These will be my last words to you, Kiali, Sar''tara. Keep your wits about you at all times. Trust in yourself, and only yourself. Believe in your strength and all that you''ve been taught. The blood of a Goddess courses through your veins. Farewell, my beloved sisters. We will see each other again, once you''ve become Guardians."

    "Farewell, Sister Stel''Na," the two huntresses said in unison. They both gave formal bows before turning to leave.

    Stel''Na watched them disappear into the thick of the forest. She closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the sky. A part of her regretted the decision. The village would struggle for a while with so few adults remaining. Decades had passed and the Selharr hadn''t produced a single Guardian. But that wasn''t why Stel''Na had sent them. Sar''tara and Kiali were among the best the Selharr had ever seen in a long while. Better than me, even, when I was their age. They needed to succeed. The Papillion''s numbers dwindled. The strongest of the tribes, the Krieva, were down to mostly children as well.

    It hadn''t happened in over two centuries. Or that was what Ny''Danis had said. An outside invasion had last occurred over two hundred years past. There were always small groups of bandits or lone thieves trying to sneak their way in. Guardians handled them with ease. But the Vashiri tribes had been through three wars in the last sixty years. Ny''Danis could only birth so many children. Stel''Na feared for the fate of the forest. If her Mother''s stories had indicated anything, it was that the humans outside were unrelenting in their hunger for power. The Tortured King himself was once a human. And yet he''d managed to nearly wipe life off the face of Illusterra.

    Stel''Na opened her eyes and balled her fists. She had utmost confidence in Sar''tara and Kiali. But most of all, they needed to succeed in the Guardian Trials for the sake of the forest. There was no telling when outsiders would once again throw themselves at the trees in search for the Divine Artifacts.

 Chapter 10: Repeated Conversations

    <u>Chapter 10 - Repeated Conversations</u>

    Ny''Danis cradled a newborn daughter in her arms as she strolled through her grove, spears of pale light piercing through the forest canopy. Her silken dress of brown and green dragged along behind her as if kissing each blade of grass. Her soft steps avoided the many everflowers scattered about, their open petals spreading beautiful colors.

    Three of Ny''Danis'' daughters followed after her. "And so it was that the three lesser deities, Erioh of the Mountains, Shuari of the Sands and Katri of the Seas, were felled by the Ashen Haired Boy," Ny''Danis finished, reiterating the story for what must have been the thousandth time, though to a new group of daughters. "My own mistake, my own lack of conviction allowed me to act passive. That poor orphan boy¡­ I raised him and he was turned against us by the Tortured King."

    No matter how many times she told the story, the pain of the past never subsided. A new wound was torn open each time. The memory, the ache of losing everything she''d once had and loved, like a fresh brand placed upon her heart, still singeing.

    Ny''Danis glanced back at her following daughters, Lia, Freis, and Hale. They were three, four, and six years of age. Their cute faces eased her hurt. Lia and Freis turned their heads at the slightest of distractions, leaving Ny''Danis to wonder if they truly had been paying attention. She sighed. "I''ll tell more stories before you go to sleep," she said with a smile. "Go on. Go play with the nymphs." The girls scurried off, bright eyed and full of energy.

    Ny''Danis turned back to look at the innocent bundle in her arms. A curious pair of eyes stared back, squirming to the right. And then to the left, small fingers grasping at the shining silver of her hair. "You will be a Selharr, Aina." Ny''Danis whispered to the babe. Aina was born on the same day as the Kreiva-Selharr conflict. Ny''Danis closed her eyes, trying not to think of the subject. She brought Aina closer to her face and pressed a kiss on the girl''s forehead.

    Nymphs, Ny''Danis'' created daughters, chased around her three blood daughters who were not yet of age to be sent out to a village. Their singing voices melted into the radiance of the grove, enriching it further. Ny''Danis let the joyous atmosphere surround her, pushing back the thoughts of pain. Two green skinned dryads followed her, jumping up and down to get a better look at the newborn.

    "Can we play with her?" one asked.

    "When can we play with her?" The other said.

    What''s her name?"

    "Can I see? Can I see?"

    Aina began crying. The dryads stopped talking, but continued following all the same, their hands behind their backs and their eyes looking down as if ashamed. Ny''Danis rocked the babe back and forth until she was silent again. "Not yet," Ny''Danis said. "She''s still new. Give her a few years."

    The dryads pouted but walked away without a word. A few years may be too many for some. Nymphs only lived for a hundred years, returning to water or soil when their lives were at its end. Unlike the Vashiri, they were without souls, though they had a somewhat intelligent conscience. It was how Ny''Danis had made them. Once a nymph passed on, Ny''Danis created another. They existed only to keep her blood daughters company as children. Some with fond memories of a Vashiri oft strayed from the grove to seek out the daughter in question.

    A few years¡­ Such a time was miniscule to Ny''Danis. As an immortal and the last of the lesser deities created by the Creator, she had lived for thousands of years and would live for thousands more if things continued as they had.

    Ny''Danis came to a halt before Lorian, the Great Mother Tree. The first life on Illusterra aside from her siblings, the other three of the lesser deities. Lorian was the first life Ny''Danis had ever cared for. She had planted it as a sapling when the world was naught but ash and stone. Had nurtured it. Watched it grow and had loved it as much as she loved her own daughters. Lorian stretched high, putting to shame some of the walls that cities of old maintained. It was the tallest tree in the world. All plant life descended from it. Lorian bore the seeds of all fruits, all vegetables, all flowers and all trees.

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    Ny''Danis filled her lungs with a slow inhale. Her back split open and a pair of mosaic wings sprouted. She leapt off the ground, holding Aina close against her chest. The babe laughed as if enjoying the ride. Ny''Danis smiled. She flew halfway up Lorian, to a section wherein she had carved out a platform and a throne for herself. The platform, now centuries old, if not millennia, had a blanket of grass growing on it now.

    Ny''Danis landed on the platform, her toes touching the grass first. She walked to a cradle created from Lorian''s branches and placed Aina inside where a soft bed of large leaves awaited her. A thin branch dripped nectar of the Mother Tree should the babe ever feel hunger. Ny''Danis caressed Aina''s cheek before turning around and descending back to the ground. She hummed a song, continuing her walk through the grove, her melodious voice echoing throughout its entirety. Every leaf and blade of grass exuded a vibrant brilliance as their creator''s voice resonated with their cores.

    Ny''Danis hugged her arms, feeling cold without the warmth of another near her. She missed her siblings. Or at least, she told herself that she did. She could no longer recall their faces. All she had left was the forest and her daughters. Daughters whose hearts and souls she created through the same magic she and her siblings had once fought to destroy. The magic created by the Tortured King. The Language of Sacrifice, Chronary.

    Daughters whom I pit against one another.

    Ny''Danis pressed a hand against Lorian for support. She dropped to her knees and clutched her heart. The death of every daughter tugged at her heartstrings. The battle between the Kreiva and the Selharr had torn wide open a rift in her mind. A rift that had already existed from past battles between her daughters. A rift that had first formed when she''d lost everything thousands of years ago. Ny''Danis took a portion from her immortality to create the hearts of the Vashiri. To bear them in her womb and birth them just as a real mother. And then what? She allowed them to kill themselves. Allowed them to die within the Guardian Trials. No real mother would do such a thing.

    Ny''Danis picked herself up, blinking back tears. She walked around to the other side of Lorian. An arched opening led inside the tree''s wide trunk. The Divine Artifacts in her possession lay there. Everything Ny''Danis had done was to protect the forest and these objects. The creation of the Vashiri tribes. The silence during their conflicts. All to create stronger Guardians to protect the forest and the Artifacts. But should there not be a better way? A way where conflict wasn''t necessary? Where deaths didn''t need to occur? Could the Vashiri not have lived together and learned to fight together as outsider armies did? Could I not have taught them to use their innate powers without having to conduct the Trials?

    Ny''Danis buried her face in her hands. She wished her siblings were still here to provide her with wisdom. To give her guidance. Her own mistake, her own lack of conviction had led to their deaths. She pushed back her guilt. Everything was necessary. Everything had been thought through thousands of years ago. The only reason she questioned her actions now was because of the pain of losing so many daughters. Such wounds after all refused to scar even after the passage of many years.

    But I''d never known it would be so painful back then¡­

    No. Stronger Guardians would help her protect the forest. Help her protect the Artifacts. Protect her from losing everything again¡­ Selfish. That''s what these thoughts were. Ny''Danis opened her mouth to scream. No sound came out. She couldn''t scream. It would startle the girls and the nymphs.

    Was it really necessary to protect the Artifacts? They were the few that had been recovered after the War of Ashes. Objects with the potential to cause calamities in the wrong hands. But thousands of years¡­ Humanity must have uncovered more by now. And they were bold enough to launch invasions against the forest. So what? You would give them more because they probably have others now?

    Ny''Danis wondered if it would be wise to leave the forest. To seek out the descendants of her past friends, the Flame Bearers. The Flame Bearers were supposed to protect the forest from invasions. Ny''Danis'' Guardians were only the second layer of protection. And yet invasions had occurred. But they haven''t occurred in two centuries¡­

    Then were the Flame Bearers doing their tasks right? Was it only an occasional slip up between the centuries? Ny''Danis ran a hand through her hair. She let out a long exhale. There was no need to question herself. This duty was entrusted to her. If she left the forest and admitted to incompetency ¡ªa deity admitting to incompetency¡ª she would be forced to hand the Artifacts over to the Flame Bearers.

    And they had already slipped up.

    No, Ny''Danis thought. The Artifacts are safer with me. But my daughters¡­ "No!" She blinked a few times, shocked at the sound of her own voice. How many times had she had the same thoughts? Repeated the exact same conversation in her head?

    She turned away, wings sprouting from her back again. She returned to sit on her throne in Lorian. Aina was sleeping now. The poor girl. She would one day be subject to the same cruelty as every other Vashiri. "I''m a failure of a mother," Ny''Danis whispered, resting her head against wood behind it. She raised her right hand and stared at her pale, smooth skin. It was clean. Graceful.

    And disgustingly red in her thoughts.

    How many daughters had she killed for their lack of conviction? How many more would she kill yet? Her eyes drifted back to the cradle. Will you be one of them?

    The Forest Deity closed her eyes. She couldn''t lose her conviction. Not again. Not unless she were to risk losing everything once more.

 Chapter 11: Mother

    <u>Chapter 11 - Mother</u>

    Moonlight painted the vibrant surface of the grove. Glowing flowers appeared as sparkling gemstones. Blades of grass shone like daggers poking out of the ground. Shallow streams wrapped around the smooth surface of stones and pebbles as if they were a flowing current of molten silver. Most beautiful of all was the humming that came from the far end wherein stood Lorian, the first tree. The voice of the Forest Deity herself, echoed by her many created daughters ¡ªnaiads sitting near streams and dryads hanging from tall trees, all singing along with their creator. Some played. Some laughed. A blissful scene. And nostalgic too.

    Sar''tara was brought to near tears at the familiar sight. It had been over fifteen years since she''d last been here. For her elder sibling, nineteen long years had passed. Kiali already had a silver line running from her eye to her chin. All shadows of doubt within Sar''tara''s mind retreated to a dark corner to hide from the grove''s radiance, from the memories of a plentiful childhood, and that of a loving Mother. She couldn''t help herself. She ran forward towards Ny''Danis.

    Kiali followed right alongside her. The sounds of their bare feet pattering against small blades of grass disrupted the grove''s subtle melody. Ny''Danis continued to hum. The nymphs did not. Their heads turned towards the sound of soft steps. Their joyous expressions changed into surprise. Their surprise soon changed into euphoria.

    "It''s Sar''tara!" some shouted.

    "It''s Kiali!" others proclaimed.

    "It''s Sar''tara and Kiali," said every nymph soon after.

    Nymphs surrounded the pair of huntresses, halting their sprints. For once, Sar''tara did not feel disturbed by their presence. The memories of playing games with them as a child hit her like a tidal wave. She wanted to play again. Wanted to be immersed in the joy that she''d forgotten. Dozens of pairs of large black eyes stared up at her and Kiali. Some made idle comments whilst others tried asking questions.

    "Tall¡­"

    "Kiali is taller than Sar''tara. Very tall."

    "Lots of bones. Can I have them?"

    "Can I have the bones? I can trade them for some stones!"

    "Smooth skin."

    "Smooth hair."

    "Sar''tara is pretty."

    "Much prettier than before!"

    "I like Kiali more!"

    "Me too!"

    "Me three!"

    Sar''tara smiled at the nymphs but made no attempt to pause or answer questions. Her fingers grazed the cheeks of her created sisters and occasionally brushed strands of ropey hair away from their faces. Her eyes drifted back towards the great tree. Towards her Mother.

    Lorian''s long reaching branches and many shaped leaves enshrouded half the grove in spots of shadow while the other half freely bathed in moon and starlight. Ny''Danis rested on her throne, a suckling babe in her arms. Children lay at her feet, sleeping. Her blood daughters. She tilted her head and looked down at Sar''tara and Kiali. The smile that was already upon her lips grew softer. Ny''Danis put the babe down in a cradle. She stepped off of her seat and jumped into the air. The lush silver hair that had rested in her lap now flowed freely, hovering behind her as if it were the tail of a blitzing star.

    Dark wings sprouted from Ny''Danis'' back. Wings akin to those of butterflies. Their black outlines were a sharp contrast to the many glowing colors within her wings just as a light shining through a mosaic. She floated in the air briefly, her wings beating faster than the eye could see, sending a rainbow of afterglow lights in many directions. Ny''Danis descended from Lorian at a frightening speed. Her green and brown dress of silk pressed against her fair and slender legs before rising into the air just above her ankles as she halted her collision with the ground. Her wings disappeared as she walked towards her returning daughters, the length of her dress now dragging along behind her.

    Sar''tara realized that she''d been holding in a breath. Her lips parted and her eyes watered. Tears broke free just as she broke out from the encirclement of nymphs and ran towards her Mother. Ny''Danis embraced her as she held her Mother tight, her head resting against Ny''Danis'' chest. She placed a kiss on Sar''tara''s head. A moment later, Kiali collided into them, wrapping her arms around Sar''tara and Ny''Danis.

    Sar''tara sniffled as she raised her head and met her Mother''s multi-chromatic eyes. Ny''Danis stood more than a full head taller than her daughters. Not even the tallest of the Kreiva could match her Mother in height.

    "Welcome back," Ny''Danis said. The sound of hearing her speak caused Sar''tara to press herself closer to her Mother. A soft hand ran along the length of her single braid. She was very much aware that her tears were dampening her Mother''s dress. Ny''Danis did not utter a single word of complaint. Nymphs tugged at Sar''tara''s skirt, nagging and begging to come play. The Forest deity raised a finger to her lips and they backed way.

    Sar''tara finally let go of, wiping her face with the back of her hands. Kiali did the same. "Shall we go up?" Ny''Danis asked, maintaining her smile.

    Blushing, Sar''tara nodded, unable to rid herself of a wide, childish grin. How did I ever doubt her? How? Ny''Danis bent low and picked up Kiali first. The grown woman squealed as her Mother held her in both arms and carried her up to the branches of Lorian as if she were a knight stealing a princess. She came back down and carried Sar''tara the same way. Sar''tara covered her face to hide her embarrassment, heart beating rapidly as her legs were swept from beneath her and cool wind clashed against the lingering moisture spread across the backs of her hands.

    Kiali was on her knees, inspecting her youngest siblings as they lay asleep on a patch of grass before Ny''Danis'' throne. "They''re so cute," she whispered. She shuffled over to the cradle where the babe lay just as Ny''Danis landed. Sar''tara ran over to the cradle as well to see the newborn. The babe''s eyes were wide open.

    "Can I hold her?" Sar''tara asked.

    Ny''Danis nodded. Sar''tara picked up her baby sister. The babe began crying almost instantly. Sar''tara wasn''t shocked in the least. Instead she began rocking the babe back and forth, singing, just as she''d seen her Mother do in the past.

    Have no tears my lovely sister

    Lest you trip, your pretty hands blister

    Weeping will make flowers wilt

    Weep not, smile bright and come hither

    "What''s her name?" Kiali asked.

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    "Aina," Ny''Danis said. "I gave birth to her a few days past. The Selharr have made slight changes to my lullaby I see."

    "It was Sister Freya''s song," Sar''tara answered, smiling, hoping. Hoping that her Mother was just as grieved by the loss of her beloved daughter as she was with the loss of a sister. Memories of the war creeped back into her mind, a sour taint spreading over the joyous ones.

    "Ah, Freya. Yes. She was the kindest girl I gave birth to¡­" the Forest Deity said, as if recalling an ancient memory. Her expression didn''t change. Her smile didn''t falter. Her emotions could not be read.

    Sar''tara''s arm twitched. She needed a stronger reaction. Something more to tell her that all her doubts were a lie. The corrupting rends in her mind grew stronger. She glanced back at the babe, wanting to absorb its innocence. Aina had settled down. Sar''tara looked into the small dark eyes. "You will be a strong and fearless Guardian one day," she whispered. "You will reach that stage without having to stain your hands with the blood of your kin." Sar''tara glanced back at Ny''Danis. Still no reaction save for a slight twitch of her eye. A slight twitch¡­ What does that mean, Ma?

    "Allow your sisters to sleep," Ny''Danis said. "Dusk has come and gone. They need ample rest if they are to grow big and strong."

    Sar''tara nodded. She placed the babe back in its cradle.

    Ny''Danis stepped out onto a thick branch as wide as the trunks of trees within the forest. Her dress, extending beyond her gentle feet, made it seem as if she were gliding rather than stepping. The back of the dress merely covered an area of her shoulders and went down in a V shape before closing off just above her waist. Her skin, smooth and fair, was without blemish. Not a mark remained from where her wings had sprouted. She reached up into the leaves of Lorian and plucked out two large peaches, handing them to her daughters.

    Sar''tara bit in. Sweet nectar entered her mouth. She hadn''t tasted the fruit in years. But the honey remained only on her tongue. It did not enter her heart. She kept an eye on her Mother for some change in emotion. A sudden breakdown. An admittance to pain of losing so many daughters. Something to say that she was wrong. Or an argument strong enough to conquer all seeds of doubt. But why am I doubting a deity? My own Mother?

    "You two have done well to earn the right to have returned here," Ny''Danis said, maintaining a level tone. "I am proud. You''ve endured many hardships and suffered many sorrows. You must have many questions for me. Ask away. Your Trials will begin when I stop walking."

    "Why do you not prevent wars between your daughters?" Sar''tara blurted out with a mouth half full of peach. Juice rolled down her wrist, tickling her forearms. She''d been squeezing the fruit a little too hard with her fingers.

    "Starting with the most difficult," Ny''Danis mused. She paused her walk. Looked up at the forest canopy. Then began walking again. "I love all my daughters the same. I also know what lies beyond the borders of our home, this forest. The deaths of my daughters pains me greatly," Ny''Danis said, placing a hand on her chest. "Sar''tara, if I mediate between conflicts, you will come to rely upon me, and not yourselves. It will weaken you. Partaking in the killing of your sisters is not necessary in obtaining my approval and Guardianship. It is just another test, as is hunting. What you''ve done, it is painful. But it proves your conviction and inner strength. Thus, I don''t stop you. There are people outside that would do us harm. People that only the strongest of my daughters can face."

    Sar''tara looked at her feet. Her eyebrows furrowed. "But being a Guardian isn''t about strength only¡­ Wisdom and patience are a part of it as well. Conflicts resolved through conversation are proof of those traits."

    "Yes. It certainly is. Naturally, all my daughters are lacking in some traits of a true Guardian," Ny''Danis said. Her voice cracked. Sar''tara thought she heard her Mother swallow. "The Trials you are about to undertake will test everything. My Kreivan daughters can be prideful and arrogant. But they''re strong of both will and body. The Selharr and M?khain don''t have arrogance enough to ignore wisdom, but they may often find themselves lacking elsewhere. Questioning what you''ve done is proof of kindness. Dwelling on it too long shows a lack of conviction."

    Sar''tara bit too far into her peach. She flinched as her teeth struck the pit inside a little too hard. It made sense. Too much sense. So much so, that it didn''t. Why did there need to be a justification for siblings killing each other. Why did that justification come from a Mother that had breastfed and raised each and every girl? Why couldn''t it just be wrong to kill?

    "What of Sister Freya or Mina? What of the girls that had no wish to fight? That had no experience in it?" Kiali asked. She had already finished her peach. Her right fist was tightly enclosed around the pit.

    "Are you two hurt?"

    "Yes," the huntresses replied in unison.

    "Do you wish for all your sisters to suffer a similar fate as that of Freya or Mina?"

    "Never!" Sar''tara declared.

    "No!" Kiali said as well.

    Ny''Danis let out a heavy exhale. "That is the pain that I must deal with. I must live on knowing that some of my daughters have died when they should not have. All so that the others will not die or worse. For there are some fates worse than death. Stronger Guardians is what allows this forest to remain protected."

    "That¡­ But¡­ Why can''t you just teach us?" Sar''tara said. "Allow us to live together and teach us the traits of a Guardian! Some may still perish during the Trials, but allowing killing¡­" Sar''tara knew the answer. Because it would make the daughters too weak to grow up without competition and independent learning. But that''s so convenient an excuse¡­ "So many of your daughters have perished, Ma. So many that could have become Guardians. Does that not leave our home undefended?"

    Ny''Danis paused. She raised her hands to her face as if wiping away tears. She then turned and knelt before her daughters, still nearly equal to them in height. The length of branch they''d been walking upon had thinned significantly. "Child. I''ve repeated these same questions over and over in my own head. Those that perished simply did not have the aptitude to become Guardians. That is the simple truth. There''s a reason why so few return from the Guardian Trials. They are the pinnacle. The final ordeal that I put my daughters through. One where I watch them either succeed or die. One where I ki-¡­"

    Ny''Danis paused. She looked at her hands then back at Sar''tara. She blinked multiple times. Tears still gathered. "I care, Sar''tara," Ny''Danis said. "I do. I know how much it must hurt. I know you don''t believe that my hands are tied. But they are." The Forest Deity stood up, wiping the corners of her eyes. "Anything else you wish to ask?" she said, trying to bring back her level voice, though it cracked.

    Sar''tara lowered her head. She felt as if a boulder weight had settled in her chest. She felt guilty for bringing her beloved Mother to tears. But somewhere inside, the answer still didn''t satisfy. The guilt of killing fellow siblings and the pain of losing ones she''d known for years still clawed at her conscience. "No," she whispered just as Kiali said the same.

    Ny''Danis continued walking in silence, as if waiting for more questions. The branch thinned further, causing Sar''tara to place one foot before the other to continue forward. Her Mother still seemed as if she were gliding.

    "This marks the end," Ny''Danis said. Wings sprouted from her back. She stepped off of the branch and carried her daughters to the base of Lorian one at a time. Nymphs gathered around as soon as Sar''tara and Kiali were on the ground again.

    "Ma, are the naiads and dryads not your daughters as well?" Sar''tara asked. "Can they not become Guardians?"

    A soft smile spread on Ny''Danis'' lips. She cupped Sar''tara''s cheek in a hand. "You had a question after all." She waved her hand, motioning for the nymphs to leave her daughters be. They pouted but dispersed, going back to singing or playing with each other. "I don''t give birth to nymphs. You know that. I create them with my hands. They are sentient, yet soulless. I made them to keep my children company during their early years. Though, some with fond memories stray from the grove and seek you out within the forest after you leave. Anything else?"

    Sar''tara shook her head.

    "Then we will proceed with your Trials. There are four Trials you must pass," Ny''Danis explained. "They must be done consecutively with little rest in between. They will be conducted on an alter plane that I have created. Injuries you sustain within them will be real. But you will not retain them upon returning to this world. Time will pass as it does. Take too long and hunger and sleep will start affecting your bodies. The fruit of Lorian bears great boons. You are expected to have strength enough to last the full duration of the Trials. Failure means certain death. Successful completion of the Trials means that you are a vessel capable of wielding the powers of a Guardian. The very powers of nature that I possess. If you wish to turn back, you may do so now. You may retire yourself to your village and live therewith for the remainder of your lives¡­ Or leave the forest and find company among humans outside. Are the two of you ready?"

    Sar''tara nodded just as her older sister. Returning to the village would be to live a life of shame. And leaving the forest instead, as much as a small part of Sar''tara desired to see the world outside, would be to run away from that shame. And furthermore, she would have to live without ever seeing her beloved Mother again. No. I will succeed. If I fail, I will die. And Ma will cry¡­

    Sar''tara didn''t want that. She didn¡¯t want her Mother to cry. Of course her Mother was despaired at the loss of her daughters. Ny''Danis must have hurt more than anyone else. Why did I doubt her to begin with? Sar''tara grit her teeth. To dwell too long would show a lack of conviction. Mother is right, she convinced herself. She hated it. But it was so. Had to be so.

    Ny''Danis closed her eyes and outstretched her arms. Two white ovals appeared on either side of her. "Step through the gates," she commanded.

    Sar''tara and Kiali took one last look at each other. They both dropped the peach pits in their hands before nodding and stepping through.

 Chapter 12: A Trial of Patience

    <u>Chapter 12 - A Trial of Patience</u>

    Fresh morning air of the rebirth period greeted Sar''tara as she came out of the gate. She was surrounded by a familiar environment. But it wasn''t a familiar place. Birds chirped from the branches of old trees. Trees she didn''t recognize. Had never seen before. Ny''Danis had said that it was an alter plane created through her powers of creating life.

    Sar''tara looked over herself, checking to make sure all of her weapons were there with her. She then checked her surroundings, looking for threats and potential sources of food. The latter was harder. She recognized none of the flora. Strange thick vines hung from trees. The forest floor was filled with shrubbery, hindering her movement and hiding stray tree roots that could be sticking out of the ground. Her sharp eyes caught sight of strange insects. She had no way of knowing which were dangerous and which were not. Either way, she wasn''t overly fond of six or eight legged creatures. Aside from butterflies, bees, and dragonflies.

    "Hunt a deer by dusk."

    Sar''tara jumped at the sudden voice. Its hollow sound echoed through the crowded forest. She looked above her head as if expecting to find someone staring down at her. There was nothing but a green forest canopy and a slight blue of the sky showing between gaps among leaves. The voice did not sound again. It was a single command. The first Trial was to hunt a deer before night fell upon the strange forest. A difficult task. Locating a deer or looking for signs of it would easily take half a day if she was fortunate. That also depended on the amount of deer within the forest. The environment around her did not seem ideal for deer.

    Yet, right before Sar''tara''s eyes, about a hundred feet away from her, stood the four legged animal, nibbling around the edges of a shrub.

    It was too easy to be true. The Guardian Trials would not be that easy. But the animal stood right there, completely unaware of her presence. She unstrapped her bow and slowly reached back to draw an arrow. Something strange and warm wrapped itself around her arm as if to caress it. Sar''tara paused, goosebumps forming on her skin. She slowly brought her arm back so as to not alarm her prey. The warm feeling continued to make its way down her arm, tickling and disrupting focus. It slid up her shoulder and touched her earlobes. A soft hiss followed. Sar''tara swallowed. It''s just a distraction. She nocked and pulled on the string as the thing on her arm slid closer to her face. Sar''tara froze at the sight of it, twitching.

    An overgrown worm with green scaly skin stared into her eyes.

    The arrow slipped from Sar''tara''s fingers and fell before her feet. She yelped as her bow dropped as well, both of her hands moving to yank the worm away from her. Sar''tara hated worms. They were gross. A big green one in a foreign environment was all the more frightening. The thing moved quick for a worm, slithering about on the ground. It hissed again as it approached Sar''tara a second time. She fell on her rear and crawled back as fast as she could, trying to kick at the creature with her feet, surprised at the whimpers escaping her mouth.

    The worm raised its small head. A forked tongue slipped out of its mouth, then slipped back just as quick. Its jaw split in two, revealing a pink inside with two pairs of small fangs, the pitch black disc within its gold eyes colder than any night and threatening to kill. Sar''tara knew then. She was staring at a predator. This worm had fangs. It was carnivorous.

    The creature hissed as it slithered towards her. Sar''tara unsheathed her knife and screamed as she tried stabbing at the creature''s head. It lunged towards her at that exact moment, fangs bared. The bone knife went through its body, pinning it to the ground. Its head still wriggled around, hissing whilst continuing to snap with its teeth. Sar''tara grabbed hold of the head, pulled her knife out, and then stabbed where she''d originally intended. Warm blood rolled down her fingertips. She threw the creature aside, her chest rising and falling at as fast as her flitting eyes searching the forest for further threats.

    She slowly stood up, knees buckling like a newborn fawn. The deer was nowhere to be seen. Of course. She expected as much. The Trial was never going to be easy. She retrieved her bow and arrow, still scanning her immediate surroundings. She spotted more scaly worms. Some of them were disguised as vines. A shiver ran down her spine. Sar''tara glanced at her arm, grimacing, feeling tainted and unclean. The gross thing had touched her.

    She moved towards where she had spotted the deer. It would have tracks she could follow. She did her best to avoid vines. She heard a hiss every once in a while. Her heart skipped beats when the sounds were too close for comfort. Some of the shrubbery she stepped through had sharp leaves. The skin around her feet and ankles was beginning to collect many red lines. They itched at times. She bent down to satisfy the itch, adding to the red. Moving through the forest in complete silence was proving to be difficult. There were very limited amount of places Sar''tara could step without snapping small limbs of plants. She was leaving a trail of trampled life.

    The deer had left similar tracks, hoof prints pressed into the ground along with leaves and twigs. The dense vegetation, though making it harder to hunt in silence, made tracking easier. To Sar''tara''s surprise, her prey hadn''t fled very far. She spotted its fluffy tail sticking out from behind the trunk of a tree. She moved on the tips of her toes, stepping in the exact same place the deer had tread. She needed a better angle to shoot.

    Sar''tara positioned herself behind a waist high bush. She bent her knees and drew an arrow. The forest was suddenly silent. Not a single bird sang. No insects buzzed. Not even a sickening hiss could be heard. Sar''tara nocked and drew back, the wood of her bow creaking as she did so. The deer perked its head at the sudden sound. It moved a few steps, once again hiding itself behind a tree. Sar''tara moved too, shuffling her feet along the ground so as to not step on a twig.

    She stubbed her toe on a hidden root and tripped over.

    The deer fled again.

    Sar''tara spat a leaf out of her mouth as she picked herself up. She''d snapped her arrow in half when trying to break her fall. "This stupid¡­" The forest was too unfamiliar. She clutched the broken ends of the arrow in one hand. No one would judge her in an alternate plane. No one would shame her for losing an arrow. No one but herself. She was a Selharr. She had her own pride as one. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists.

    Sar''tara rose to her feet and dusted off soil chunks stuck to her knees. She winced as her fingers glazed over a splinter stuck at the side of her thigh. She carefully picked it out. Something tickled her back. The feeling crawled up her spine and reached her neck. Sar''tara froze. She swatted the insect away, squealing. A yellow spider the size of her palm fell before her feet and skittered away.

    Sar''tara swallowed hard. Goosebumps returned. She hugged herself to stop from shivering in disgust. She didn''t like this forest. Hated it. Her head whipped from side to side, searching for more critters. She tried peering at the sun''s position through cracks in the green canopy. How much longer do I have? She chased after her prey''s tracks once more, this time more aggressively and with less caution. Her audible footsteps drowned the sounds of those scaly worms. She didn''t want to spend a single second longer in these unfamiliar woods.

    She once again spotted her prey not long after. Though, she''d seen it too late. Twigs snapping beneath her feet had frightened the deer and it fled once more. Sar''tara screamed at the sky and tugged at her braid hard. It hurt. But she wanted to rip something apart. She instead grabbed at a nearby vine and pulled it away from the tree it was wrapped around. The warm vine hissed at her as it squirmed around in her hands. She screamed again ¡ªthis time in fear. She threw the green worm as far as her trembling arms could manage. It slithered away just as another came from behind her and wrapped itself around her left leg. "Get away! Get away!" she squealed as she stomped her feet about. The creature slithered its way up her leg, coming dangerously close to her waist. She ripped it away and threw it aside.

    Sar''tara fell on her rear and backed herself up against the trunk of a tree. She needed a moment of respite. Her heartbeats were erratic. Her eyes were peeled wide, trying to find other disgusting creatures whilst hoping they wouldn¡¯t find them. She pressed her head back against the tree and closed her eyes, relaxing her breathing. Her eyelids opened a while later. She found herself staring at a spider that inched closer to her face with every passing second as it descended down a web.

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    Sar''tara''s felt as if her chest would burst open. She gagged, trying to inhale, and then shut her mouth out of fear of the spider. She couldn''t bear it any more. She slammed her palm against the tree, squishing the critter before it came down any further. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. She drummed her fists against the bark of the tree, wailing like a child. The tree shook. It wasn''t particularly thick, though, its branches were spread wide. Half a dozen vines fell away from them. They slithered their way towards the huntress, upset at having been disturbed.

    Sar''tara shrieked, her voice higher than she''d ever thought possible. She ran as hard as she could, not caring about her surroundings. She spotted her prey again during her flight and hastily drew another arrow whilst still running. Only to stub her toe on another root and fall head first into dirt. Her face suffered the scratches of sharp leaves. The deer fled again, this time galloping straight past her as she lay on the ground as if mocking her, adding to her grief.

    Sar''tara howled. She hopelessly chased around the faster being, firing arrow after arrow, each one striking bark as if the trees were intentionally getting in her way. No. Her shots were just going wide by Selharr standards. She didn''t care. Her pride was all but gone. Time and time again, she tripped over something unseen. Such dense vegetation made Sar''tara feel trapped. It wasn''t fair. This entire forest was an enemy hindering her hunt at every turn. And she was all alone with creepy insects just waiting to crawl all over her.

    Sar''tara watched through teary eyes as the deer got farther away from her. Red around her ankles and feet became deeper in color until the skin had nearly peeled away and blood was beginning to show.

    At the end of it all, Sar''tara finally fell on her knees. Her adrenaline rush, gone. Her feet, stinging with pain. Her lungs, desperate for air. Her muscles, throbbing from overuse. Her prey was nowhere in sight. No means of tracking it remained either. She didn''t know where its tracks were. In her rage, she had chased the deer in circles and had trampled over all of the previous tracks. And only a single arrow remained in her quiver.

    The deep orange glow of an evening sun caused the color of the forest to change. Time was running out. Sar''tara did not know how much longer she had. She was on the verge of failure. All because of her impatience. She wept in silence. No option remained. No familiar landmarks to identify her position. No tracks to continue her chase. The unfamiliar territory, the unfamiliar flora and fauna, all of it overwhelming. A part of her had given up. Wanted to go home. She just wanted the Trial to end. But what happens when it ends?

    All who failed the Guardian Trials did not return. They were all presumed dead. That meant that if she failed, she wouldn''t return to her Mother. She would be stuck in this plane with these horrid creatures until she either died of starvation or was killed by the insects. Sar''tara wondered if her loss would be mourned. If she would even be remembered.

    The hope of the Selharr, just a failure.

    She couldn''t let that happen. Dusk had yet to arrive. The huntress stood once more. One more arrow. One last try. She looked around. Confidence burned in her anew as she realized the truth of the forest.

    ***

    The scaly worm-like creature continued to hiss. Kiali tightened her grip around its throat. Or where she assumed the throat to be. "What now? Trying to breathe?" she asked. "You made me lose sight of my target. How do you expect me to make up for it? Hiss. "What''s that?" Hiss. "An apology? While you bare your fangs at me?" Kiali shook her head. She threw the creature as far away as she could.

    She silently made her way to where she''d seen the deer. All her life, Kiali had only ever hunted wolves. Because she hated them. Feared them. But during her exploits, she''d also learned to think like a wolf, giving her much needed experience in hunting game she had little interaction with.

    The deer had left tracks of trampled plant life. She followed them, treading upon those same tracks on her toes. It wasn''t long before Kiali came upon the deer once more. Its small head bent down, nibbling on a bush. She reached back to grab an arrow. Then paused. Something felt strange. The deer hadn''t fled as far as she''d expected. Regardless, it stood before her, begging to be hunted. Kiali nocked and drew back. The forest was eerily quiet. The soft creak of her bow alerted the deer to her presence. It fled before the shot could be fired. Kiali smirked. Something was definitely strange. Noise returned to the forest. Birds chirped and insects buzzed. Everything was playing out perfectly against her.

    The Trial was trying her patience.

    Kiali sighed as she shook her head. It turned out easier than expected. But she didn''t drop her guard. Countless hunters had never returned to the Selharr village after attempting the Trials. There were still three remaining. They wouldn''t be as easy.

    Kiali failed to hunt the deer a few more times. She didn''t let it agitate her. In her failures, she realized that the forest was truly small. It made sense that she''d been encountering the same deer over and over again. All of it was a ruse to encourage frustration. But Kiali had too much experience. Her mentality was that of a hungry wolf. She knew her opportunity would come. And it did. It was early into the evening when she finally had a clear shot of her prey. All that remained to be tested was her skill with the bow. In true Selharr fashion, Kiali claimed her prize, only having wasted a single arrow.

    A white oval formed before her. A gate similar to the one she''d gone through to access the strange forest. She stepped through and once again was greeted by the beauty of the Papillion Forest''s center.

    Ny''Danis smiled at her. "Well done, Kiali. You maintained your rationale and did not let an unfamiliar environment disturb you. Your completion of this Trial is proof of your ability to exercise patience."

    "As is to be expected, Mother. We have hunted all our lives. I would shame not only myself, but you as well if something so trivial was to be my downfall."

    Ny''Danis smiled. "Trivial¡­ Humm¡­ You''d be surprised at how many of your sisters fail this Trial. This Trial is where most of the Kreiva Vashiri fail due to their rash nature. But it isn''t just them. The Selharr and M?khain often struggle as well."

    "I suppose I can see how that would come about. It is a cleverly designed Trial. Which I should expect, of course. Because Mother was the one to make it." Kiali blushed in embarrassment. She''d called her Mother''s designs trivial. "Has Tara begun the next Trial already?"

    "Your sister has yet to return."

    ***

    Since arriving, Sar''tara had not bothered to think rationally. No. She simply didn''t have the opportunity to pause and think. Everything had been set up to bait her from the very beginning. The goal of her Trial set right before her eyes. The slithering worm appearing right after it. From that very moment, she had been caught in a carefully crafted web. It was a Trial to test patience and experience. Experience, Sar''tara had in droves. But patience? Every Vashiri woman strived to attain the position of a Guardian. While hunting was a game of patience, it was easy to forget such a crucial trait when under the excitement of finally taking the Guardian Trials. Of being that final step away from their lifelong goal.

    Then there was the forest. The strangeness of it all was to throw off the senses. A forced time limit would cause any person to subconsciously disregard their surroundings for their goal. The forest was, in truth, a very small place. It was no mere coincidence that the deer had appeared before Sar''tara without her having to search for it. There was a limit to how far it could run. The constant failed attempts at hunting it only served to further frustrate any huntresses taking the Trial.

    The day was wearing on. Dusk would arrive soon. Sar''tara ignored everything within the forest. All of its sounds, all of its creatures, and all of its vegetation. She silently shuffled her feet, moving mere inches for every few breaths. An impatient desire formed within her. It begged her to move faster. To seek out her prey before the sun set. She didn''t let that desire conquer her.

    She was a huntress. And hunting was a game of patience.

    In the small forest, Sar''tara was confident she would come across her prey at least one last time before the Trial''s end.

    Darkness crept between the trees, lengthening and widening every shadow. Singing birds were replaced with crying crickets. It wouldn''t be long before time ran out, before the light in the sky dipped below the horizon. Within the deepening umbra, Sar''tara spotted the deer again. This would be her last attempt. She nocked her final arrow. The entire plane seemed against her. Shadows danced at the edges of trees. Centipedes and spiders sitting upon branches and leaves entered her field of vision. They were distractions. Sar''tara''s fear and exhaustion only made their presence more potent than they should have been. Thoughts of failure prodded the edges of her mind. One final chance. She wouldn''t fail.

    She drew back her bowstring. A green worm fell upon her shoulders. Scream! It slithered down her body whilst hissing. But the darks of her eyes only saw one thing. They were tunneled in on her prey. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. Her last arrow. Her last shot. And no possibility of missing. Because she was Sar''tara Vashiri. A Selharr Vashiri huntress. The arrowhead found its target.

    A white oval opened up before her. Only then did Sar''tara realize how quick she was breathing. Her body was cold. The sweat covering her skin was beginning to evaporate. She pulled the green worm away from herself and rushed into the gate, screaming. Her blurred vision briefly caught sight of Kiali as she stepped into Ny''Danis'' grove. Sar''tara ran straight to her Mother and buried her face in Ny''Danis'' bosom whilst crying. She didn''t care how much of a baby anyone else perceived her to be. She passed the Trial. That was all that mattered.

    Ny''Danis gently ran her hand down her daughter''s braid. "There, there," she whispered in Sar''tara''s ear. "Well done on completing the Trial."

    Sar''tara could only nod as she sniffled and gasped for air.

 Chapter 13: A Trial of Strength

    <u>Chapter 13 - A Trial of Strength</u>

    Sar''tara stepped down from her Mother''s lap, still struggling to stifle her runny nose. Ny''Danis'' gentle fingers passed across both cheeks, wiping away her tears. Sar''tara glanced at her sister. There was hardly any displeasure on Kiali''s face. It seemed that she passed her Trial with less difficulty. Sar''tara puffed out her chest, happy to know her sister had succeeded. The Selharr would finally be able to hold their heads high again soon. She stood up straight beside Kiali and awaited Ny''Danis'' orders, blinking hard to rid the sting in her reddened eyes,

    "You did well to regain your wits before the end, Sar''tara. Most would have broken by that point." The deity''s look of compassion was replaced by one of sternness. There was no respite to be had. "Wounds suffered on the alter plane do not exist here, as I''m sure you''re already aware. Your quivers have also been filled again. Are you both ready?"

    Sar''tara nodded. She sucked in a breath as two white gates formed before them. She looked to her side, finding a sliver of confidence from Kiali''s reassuring smile.

    "Begin the second Trial," Ny''Danis commanded.

    Sar''tara stepped through the gate. White surrounded her when she came out the other side. There was nothing to lay her sight on. She shivered as a chill breeze brushed by. She took a step forward. The bare soles of her feet found familiar ground. She was on grass. Wet grass as if dawn had just arrived. But that was all she knew. Everything else was enshrouded in mist. Sar''tara waved her arms around but the mist did not disperse. Discomfort settled in her heart. Lingering fear of oversized insects still shadowed her thoughts. She couldn''t see, and thus couldn''t use her bow. She drew her two knives and took cautious steps forward.

    "Survive."

    The hollow voice of Ny''Danis echoed through the air again. A single word command. Something, or someone, would try to kill her. A Trial of skill or strength. The cowardly shadow within her told her to cry out. Told her to ask what it was she was surviving from. Sar''tara snapped her head around at the sharp whistling of wind. Her legs moved slower, joints stiff from both cold and fear. She bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. This couldn''t go on. Fear would addle her mind and reactions.

    Years of hunting taught her better than to cry out when blind. There was another predator on this plane besides herself. Or multiple predators. Be it in the shape of an animal or a person. She was in unfamiliar territory. She had no bearing on her environment. It was better to not reveal her location to whatever lay hidden in the mist.

    The voice commanded her to survive. She recalled Stel''Na''s words. To always remain alert. Sar''tara stood still, trying to pick up hints with her other senses. The air carried not a scent but that of damp soil. Nor did it carry any sound save for the cold breath of wind blowing here and there. She crouched low. Her feet swished as she shuffled along the wet grass. A habit picked up from years of hunting experience.

    A figure soon appeared inside the thick fog. It was hard to make out at first. But the closer she approached, the more it looked like a person. Was this person a friend or a foe? Sar''tara edged closer, moving on the tips of her toes. Her grip around the handles of her knives tightened, her breathing softened, and her heart was more subtle than a lonely drop of water sending the minutest of ripples in an empty pond. In that moment, she was no longer a person. She was a part of the mist. One with it. The figure in the mist was holding a spear. Sar''tara let herself relax, seeing the familiar weapon. A M?khain huntress. Others taking the Trials at the same time?

    She stood up straight, opening her mouth to speak. "I-" Sar''tara snapped her jaw shut. The Trials are to be conducted alone.

    Survive.

    This was no ally. Sar''tara scowled, annoyed with herself. She was still afraid. She had wanted it to be an ally. She bent lower, brandishing her knives before her face while her hunting eyes searched for a weak link through which to sink those bone fangs.

    The figure turned around at the slight shuffling of Sar''tara''s feet. She took a step back. Another chill breeze prodded her from behind as if it were a spear point urging her to move forward. The figure looked nothing like a person. It was entirely white just like the mist. A pale blue outline around its body separated the thing from blending in with its surroundings. There were holes where the eyes should have been. A strange pointed helmet was above its head. It looked to be wearing a long outfit akin to a dress, but not quite. In its right hand it held a spear, and in its left, a strange round block like object.

    Sar''tara didn''t know what to make of it. She cocked her head to the side, not sensing any hostility from the figure. Not sensing any life. Its lack of presence delayed her reactions to its movements. She noticed the butt of the spear too late. It struck her below the chin and she fell back, head ringing and vision briefly clouded in a white brighter than the mist. But more than anything, she felt the cold of the wet grass upon her back. It brought her back to her senses.

    The ghastly figure stood before her, right arm raised. It thrust down with its spear. Sar''tara rolled away just in time. What is it? Why can''t I sense any life from it? The figure''s head slowly turned towards her. Survive. That command rang clear in her mind. But some of her movements were still rigid. She crouched low, teeth clenched, and pounced just like a wolf hiding within brush. The ghastly figure brought its left hand forward. Sar''tara was stopped in her tracks by the round block it held and easily pushed away. She frowned, thinking of a way to bypass the object that shielded her assailer.

    A hole opened up where the figure''s mouth was supposed to be. The creature suddenly shrieked. A terrible and high pitched cry that caused Sar''tara to drop her guard and cover her ears. It charged at her with frightening speed, its feet making a strange sound as if it were being scraped against the wet ground. The round shield struck Sar''tara''s face and she fell back once more. She smelled iron. Blood rolled down her nose. The figure stabbed at her again. She barely managed to deflect a fatal blow with her arm, the spear tip still biting into her cheek. Sar''tara kicked at the figure''s legs. It came down on top of her and she stuck a knife into one of its eye holes.

    And then it was gone. It vaporized into mist as if it had never existed. Its tools remained. A spear and a shield.

    Sar''tara picked herself up. The sounds of heavy footsteps surrounded her. She couldn''t see anyone yet. She wondered if they could see her. Whatever ''they'' were. She was finally beginning to understand the nature of the Trial. It was a Trial to hunt. Hunt enemies she may one day face as a Guardian.

    Sar''tara stood up straight, letting the fear bleed away from her. With the Trial''s purpose figured, she felt confidence burn in her anew. She looked down at the tools before her feet. That ghastly figure was a soldier. The stories Ny''Danis would tell when she was just a child came back to her. The ancient stories about plains dwellers living beyond the forest. About their strange habitats called cities. About their armies that supposedly numbered tens of thousands. Their weapons among which they had spears and swords and axes crafted out of iron that was said to be found inside of rocks. She had always been curious about just how it was the people beyond the forest harnessed the power within stones. How it was they pulled out a substance harder than the stone itself and molded it into weapons. Sar''tara had thought that the Kreiva Vashiri would know, considering they knew how to smash stones with their fists. But she never had a chance to ask.

    She stopped reminiscing about the past. She crouched low and sheathed one of her knives. With her left hand, she picked up the shield, recognizing its importance. It covered a large surface area and would provide much needed protection. She carefully made her way through the mist. The sound of footsteps had stopped, but her sharp ears picked up the sound of shuffling feet scraping the ground. Her foes were searching for her. She spotted another figure a short distance before her, its back turned. It glided about, moving its head from side to side. Sar''tara crept up behind it and plunged her knife into its back. The figure let out the same ear splitting shriek before vaporizing. Its cries alerted more foes. There were more footsteps now, marching, nearing. They sounded much closer than before.

    Sar''tara looked down at the tools this figure had dropped. Another shield and a long knife like object with a double edge. No. This was a sword. The preferred weapon of large armies. Tens of thousands, Sar''tara thought. She wondered how so many people could exist at once. Were there deities capable of birthing children other than the three lesser gods that Ny''Danis had made mention of?

    The blade''s length was much greater than that of her knife. She decided to use it. It was heavier than she expected, but not unbearably so. Multiple ghastly figures surrounded her. Taking them all together would be foolish. She charged at the nearest one, this one holding an even longer sword with two hands. It didn''t have a shield.

    Sar''tara thought it would be an easy kill. She slashed down in an arc. The movement felt clunky and unnatural. It was much slower than if she were to use a knife. The figure parried the strike, a ringing sound following from the clash of metals. Sar''tara gasped in surprise. She didn''t expect a weapon to be used as a means of defense. She drew back her hand, preparing to thrust, believing that a smaller point of impact would not be so easily blocked.

    But it was easily dodged. The ghastly figure sidestepped her thrust and swung its sword with both hands.

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    Sar''tara raised her shield, her muscles still relaxed and her posture very poor. She expected the shield to defend her without fail. And defend it did. But the weight behind the strike was unexpected. Sar''tara was forced to the ground, her muscles vibrating from the impact. There was a deep gash on the shield. It wasn''t impervious. It was just a tool. And tools can break.

    Sar''tara quickly got back on her feet, heart erratic. More ghastly figures were beginning to close in on her. She bent her knees and stood in a position with her weight evenly distributed between both arms. An artificial time limit was closing its hands around her throat. She couldn''t allow herself to be surrounded. The figure with the two handed sword charged at her. Sar''tara brought her shield arm up and moved her legs at the same time. Her mouth opened and she roared, fueling her limbs with a fury born from desperation. She used the shield to deflect the attack rather than absorb its full impact. Her sword arm came down, aiming at the undefended side of her enemy. Iron bit into mist. The figure vaporized.

    A drum echoed in Sar''tara''s ears. Her chest rose up and down with every labouring breath. The tools in her hands seemed much heavier than they''d originally been. The muscles in her arms had swollen more than she''d ever seen. She wondered if the tools were just another ruse. They were tiring to use, and yet, plains dweller soldiers were said to have wielded the weapons for days on end in gruesome battles.

    Survive.

    The huntress grit her teeth. She needed to adapt quickly, or she wouldn''t return alive.

    ***

    Kiali gasped for breath. Her legs ached, begging her to sit down. She felt as if boulders were bound to her ankles. She looked up, counting her remaining enemies, wiping away the sweat and mist stuck to her cheeks just beneath the eyes. Three more. Two with large swords, and one with a spear. The mist had cleared the more ghastly figures she''d slain. A Trial to test her strength and combat skill against soldiers of the outside.

    The vast plains were littered with strange pieces of weaponry. Kiali hadn''t bothered to use them. They were unfamiliar to her and would thus prove disadvantageous. She tightened her grip around the handles of her bone knives. The remaining three ghastly figures closed in from three different sides. Kiali slumped her shoulders, feigning a complete lack of strength. She''d recovered much of her breath.

    One. Two¡­ And Three! The Vashiri war cry escaped her lips as her foes came within lunging distance. These ghastly figures, Kiali had realized, had some semblance of emotions. They could at least feel fear or surprise. Taken aback by her cries, the spear bearer before her dropped his guard, Kiali''s knife soon finding its throat. She spun around to face the other two, dancing between the lengths of their swords, knives flashing and finishing her task. At last, Kiali let herself fall to her knees for a much needed rest. The Trial was over.

    But no oval gate formed before her.

    Instead, a strange cry sounded behind Kiali. Something not human. But not entirely feral enough to strike fear into her heart. She turned around to face the sound. She sucked in a quick breath and held it as she forced her aching legs to stand once more. Kiali grit her teeth, a slight tremble in her arms. One more foe remained.

    ***

    Sar''tara leaned against a spear. Her body was drenched. Whether that was due to the mist or her own sweat, she didn''t know. Her arms were littered with small cuts from which thin lines of blood flowed. The weapons of plains dwellers were hard to wield. She''d barely managed to survive. Just when she thought she had been adapting to using a sword, the blade of the weapon had broken in two. She was forced to discard it and pick up a nearby spear to use. Her final enemy had been a ghost soldier with a two handed blade. Sar''tara had been too tired to make swift strikes. The soldier blocked all of her attacks. In the end, she''d made the decision to discard the shield and use the spear with both hands. Her victory was a narrow one.

    The Trial is over now. Surely. But that wasn''t the case. A cloud of mist gathered before her very eyes. It turned into another ghastly figure, but much larger than the rest and with¡­ four legs? No. It was another soldier riding atop a horse. A beast of burden and war. Ny''Danis had said that horse riders were the strongest warriors on the battlefield. That their only counter was a spear bearer.

    The rider wore a strange outfit. He didn''t have empty holes where the eyes should have been. Rather, his head was covered entirely with a helmet. The helmet had slats through which one could see, but the openings were too small to precisely stab through in the heat of battle. The rider held a strange diamond shaped shield and its weapon of choice was some sort of a flail. It was an odd weapon that Sar''tara didn''t recall her Mother mentioning. A handle with some manner of clinking iron rope attached to it. At the end of the length of rope was a ball with spikes protruding from it.

    A strange cry erupted from the horse. Sar''tara considered her options. The length of the spear was long enough to keep her enemy at bay. But was it strong enough to resist the charge of such a large beast without snapping in two like her sword before it? Am I strong enough to withstand a charge without being trampled? She didn''t believe it. Something scratched at the back of her mind as the rider charged towards her. Memories of a weapon that Ny''Danis had mentioned in her stories. A weapon that bore similarities to a spear. A javelin. A throwing spear. It was a risk. She would lose her weapon for it.

    It didn''t matter. The field was littered with weapons.

    But the horse was too fast. It closed in on her, its rider swinging the flail above his head. Sar''tara lunged to the side, thinking the dodge an easy one. The rider lashed out with his weapon, causing her to cry out as the spikes of the iron ball bit into her shoulder. The spear fell from her hands. She clutched her wound as the rider pulled a set of reins attached to the beast and forced it to wheel around for a second charge.

    Sar''tara''s knees stiffened. She snarled as she crouched low, forcing the fear out of her body. Her first task was to dismount the rider. She needed to break the horse''s legs or just kill it. But she couldn''t stand in its path lest it just trample her. She couldn''t strike it from the side. The flail would rip her skull apart. Her bow would be the key. Sar''tara waited for the horse to approach again. She lunged at the last possible moment with as much strength as her legs could muster. The rider lashed out. It missed her side by a hair. In a swift movement, Sar''tara drew her bow and nocked an arrow.

    The rider forced the horse to turn around once more.

    Fingers slid away from the bowstring. A familiar twang rung in Sar''tara''s ears as the arrow flew. The horse charged, its rider shrieking while spinning the deadly flail above his head. The arrow found the horse''s skull. It cried out and fell forward, vaporizing like every other enemy. The rider atop it was sent flying forward. His head struck the ground in a strange manner and the body bounced once before sliding to Sar''tara''s feet. It then vaporized as well.

    Sar''tara cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms. "So that¡¯s how you kill a horseman¡­ Or should I have shot him through the eyes?"

    A bright arching gate opened before her. The way back to Illusterra, her home plane. She stepped through, her Mother''s beautiful grove welcoming her just as warmly as the last two times. She felt refreshed. Her fatigue was no longer. Her injuries, all gone. The Forest Deity stood before the First Tree, Lorian. She smiled at her daughter. Kiali was there as well, chest rising and falling quickly, tan skin shining from the sweat upon it. Sar''tara bit her lower lip, feeling a pang of jealousy at having been beaten twice now. Though, she was more proud of her sister than anything.

    "Well done, my children. You have done well to complete the Trial of Strength. Sar''tara, your skill with foreign weapons and your ability to quickly adapt to your situation was most impressive. And Kiali, your sharp wits and skill with your knives is deserving of utmost respect. You make your tribe proud. This Trial is where most Selharr Vashiri fail. Robbed of their vision, their familiarity with the bow causes them to lose sight of their years of hunting knowledge."

    "And I imagine the Kreiva pass this one with ease, given their brutish strength?" Kiali asked.

    "Indeed. Some finish with fatal wounds upon their bodies. But the wounds as I mentioned are not retained when you re-enter this plane."

    "Mother, I''ve always wondered, but do you decide which of the Vashiri you bear in your womb?" Sar''tara asked.

    Ny''Danis smiled. Her majestic wings fluttered, accentuating her beauty. "I do, child. You must be wondering why it is I did not only bear Kreiva Vashiri if they are the most likely to succeed the Trials." Sar''tara nodded in response. "The Krieva are strong. It is the way in which I have created them. They are born with a fraction of my strength. That fraction is something the Selharr and the M?khain lack. That fraction is also their limit. They grow possessing the powers of nature, their bodies akin to stone, and their legs like the roots of great trees. All of them grow up proud, believing their might to be supreme. Their pride is, however, their undoing. They tend not to think rationally when hunting or fighting. Their strength makes up for it during hunts, but as you know, it does not help them against weapons and traps very well. Of course, every Guardian must also know humility. Kreivan Guardians do come to terms with what they lack."

    "Then do their retired Guardians not pass this teaching on?" Kiali asked.

    "Alas, years of pride is not something so easily gotten rid of. My Kreivan daughters are stubborn. Thousands of years, and not one of the Kreiva Vashiri returned to their village after attaining the seat of a Guardian. They all remained this forest''s defenders until death took them. My defenders," the deity finished with a smile.

    "Can you not create the perfect child? One without pride?" Sar''tara asked, frowning.

    Ny''Danis blushed. "I do not choose the personality of the child I bear. I merely choose whether I grant the child a fraction of my power or not."

    "Then why is it we are excluded from receiving your power, Mother?" Kiali asked.

    "The Kreiva Vashiri have a limit to their strength. They are likely to pass the Guardian Trials because they harness my power. And after passing the Trials, that power is increased, though slightly. They are valiant warriors who defend the Papillion Forest from outside forces. But they will never be capable of using my full powers. Of wielding the nature commanding strength that I possess. That is what a real Guardian can do. The Selharr and the M?khain are to pass the Trials on their own. They are to prove they are worthy vessels for the latent potential running in their veins. The strength of a deity. Each successful Trial grows the vessel''s strength. Without passing the Trials, that strength cannot be utilised. It would kill you if you tried using it now. Thus, I only teach you how to use it after you''ve passed the Trials."

    "Then are the Selharr and M?khain alike?"

    "In that sense, yes. But you are all alike to me. You are all my beloved daughters."

    Sar''tara crossed her arms. "Then¡­ does that mean Sister Stel''Na can command nature? Then wouldn''t she have used it during our battle with the Kreiva?"

    "My strength is to be used strictly to defend this forest, our home. It is not to be used against your own siblings. Stel''Na knows this. And I''m sure she was pained by this knowledge. Come. You have two Trials remaining." Ny''Danis spread her arms and opened two gates again. "Go now. My blessings are with you, always. I shall hope to see you on the other side."

    Both huntresses sucked in a deep breath before entering their third Trial.

    ***

    The Union''s army had long since crossed into Xenarian borders. They would know, sure enough. But they would learn of the attack too slow to mount an effective response.

    Two more days. Two days till arrival. The Sun crossed his arms. He glared into the horizon, its lines blurred by the darkness of night. He could see the shadowed top of Lorian, the Mother Tree. Years of preparation had led to this moment. He could taste it ¡ªa mellow dewdrop at the tip of his tongue. Vengeance mere inches from his grasp. This time, he wouldn''t lose.

 Chapter 14: A Trial of Wisdom

    <u>Chapter 14 - A Trial of Wisdom</u>

    The third Trial was also in a forest. This one less vegetated than the first. It was a forest of pine trees. Dried and light-brown pine needles littered the forest floor. The ground was soft, but not entirely muddy. It had rained recently, the night sky still thick with dark clouds. The smell of wet soil entered Kiali''s nose. She instantly drew her knives without sparing a second for observation. Before her lay the prints of her most hated enemy. Wolves. Not just a single track. The ground was full with paw prints. Over a dozen wolves by the looks of it. A full pack.

    Kiali then took note of her surroundings while waiting for Ny''Danis to issue commands. Nothing but pine trees, each one spaced out a few feet from another. Pine were rare in the Papillion Forest. The climate was not ideal for them. Kiali didn''t like them anyway. She found them to be ghastly. Trees without leaves at all times of the year. As if they were stuck at the end of the fading period for eternity.

    "The forest is overrun by wolves. Not a single prey remains for them to feed upon."

    She waited for more. Moments passed. The hollow voice did not return. There were no commands issued. Kiali scratched her head. It sounded like another survival test. But the Forest Deity hadn''t explicitly stated ''survive'' as she had during the second Trial. Wolves howled in the distance. Kiali didn''t bother thinking. Ny''Danis would not send her daughters to a predator infested woodland just to be passive. Whatever the test was, it most certainly involved killing wolves.

    And killing wolves was what Kiali was best at.

    Her lips thinned. They spread wide and formed a wicked grin, revealing a perfect set of teeth. Perhaps it is a Trial to conquer one''s fear. She feared wolves. But that didn''t mean she''d run from them. Kiali slit her own finger with her knife, drawing blood. She let a drop fall to the dried needles before her feet. The scent of blood would bring the animals on in droves. It wasn''t long before more howls sounded ¡ªnow much closer than before.

    Kiali heard a low, throaty growl behind her. She turned to find a pair of round yellow eyes fixated in a hungering stare. The large wolf bared its fangs as it approached, one slow paw before the other, no attempts made in hiding its bloodlust. It slowly stepped out of the shadows, sounding a vicious snarl. Spittle dribbled down its open jaws. It looked as if it''d gone rabid. Its actions showed no signs of stealth. Rather, it stunk of desperation. Its limbs were terribly thin. Ribs were pressed up against its skin. A sorry sight. Kiali almost felt bad.

    The wolf charged at what it assumed was prey. Unbeknownst to it, it was only leaping into the jaws of death. Into a greater predator''s embrace. Its frail legs looked to be dragging its body as if they were poorly constructed support beams. Its initial lunge was easily dodged. Pain entered its torso as sharp objects pierced through the gaps between ribs. Red came out in small streams. That was all it took to fell the starved beast. It lay down flat on its belly, panting for air.

    Kiali knelt before the creature. Its eyelids drooped. The yellow behind them seemed to beg for mercy. For care. It filled her with disgust. She gagged, reminded of her own weakness in the past.

    A Silver Tail wolf slowly stepped towards Kiali. She trembled, bow in hand, backing away one step at a time. She couldn''t nock her arrow. Continued to fumble it until it fell out of her hands. Kiali''s eyes went wide in horror as the yellow eyed beast, taller than her, snarled as she bent to pick up the fallen arrow. It bent its legs, preparing to lunge. Kiali tried grabbing an arrow from her quiver but her arms refused to move. Her knees buckled and she fell before the predator, a hopeless child isolated and doomed. Her heart drummed. Her eyes watered. She kicked with her feet, backing up against a tree, whimpering. Something trickled out from between her legs.

    The Silver Tail opened its jaws to bark, revealing a hideous pair of fangs. Its putrid breath caused the girl of ten to choke. An arrow flew into its exposed mouth. And it died. Died before it could kill the child.

    Kiali blinked, her jaw hanging open as she breathed through her own mouth. She was surprised to find herself sitting on her rear, sweating profusely. Just a memory. A terrible and humiliating memory.

    She looked at the fresh blood rolling down the edge of her white bone knife. Her eyes turned to the beast laying before her. Kiali clenched her teeth, face twisting in rage. She held her knife before the wolf''s eye for it to see. "This is your blood. Had I not moved, it would be your fangs that were red rather than my knife. You will have no mercy from me. Just as you would have shown me none the moment your tongue tasted my flesh." She plunged a knife into the beast''s neck. Then she twisted it. It was unnecessarily cruel. But memories from years past overshadowed any semblance of compassion. She hated that memory. Tried her best to forget it. But time and again, it plagued her nights, stealing her sleep like a malicious thief.

    She rent the knife. The wolf made a sound similar to that of choking. Kiali let it lay there as it helplessly bled out.

    More howls surrounded her. Some far off. Others close by. Many pairs of eyes peered through the shadows of the pines. Their silhouettes became visible as they slowly stepped towards Kiali. She screamed, causing the animals to pause, for even predators felt fear. She charged toward her foes before they could close in on her. Two starved wolves jumped at her from both sides. She ducked down, letting them clash with each other. Kiali spun and flashed her hands forward, the edges of her knives finding tendons within the thin limbs of her prey. The now disabled wolves whimpered, crawling slower than a turtle.

    A large alpha wolf stepped into the fray. This one was not starved, but its constant drooling was indication enough of its hunger. Kiali crouched low, preparing for the inevitable rush. It never came. The alpha male bent over the carcass of the first wolf she''d killed and sank its jaws into the skinny creature.

    Kiali watched the heinous deed unfold before her eyes. Watched as the savage beast devoured brethren. Alpha males were known to eat their children even, if need drove them. This particular male had remained uncontested, given its lean figure. Kiali made her way towards the wolf. It looked up at her and snarled, blood dripping from its snout. It barked when she stepped closer. It was protecting its easily earned meal rather than fighting for one that would require more effort. Kiali thrust with her hand, cutting the wolf''s nose. "Your opponent is me!" she cried.

    The wolf attacked her then. It tackled her to the ground, mouth wide open, red spittle dripping down its jaw. Its sharp claws dug into her shoulders. It spread its mouth further apart, threatening to devour the entirety of her face. She plunged a knife into its heart. The nasty snarl turned into a whimper. Kiali pushed the beast off of her and removed the knife. She let out a heavy exhale, half coughing while doing so. The wolf''s breath was putrid enough to make her nauseous. She checked over her wounds. They weren''t particularly deep.

    She moved on, slaughtering the starved beasts that attacked her. The nature of this Trial still wasn''t clear. But she planned to kill every wolf within the forest.

    ***

    Sar''tara bent down to inspect the tracks pressed into the soft soil. She idly picked up a pine needle and rolled it in her fingers. The tracks were fairly fresh. The wolf pack that had passed through hadn''t gotten very far. Ny''Danis'' command was somewhat confusing. But a certainty still remained. Completing a Trial was not possible when dead. Thus, it was likely that she would need to kill wolves. Starved wolves that would attack anything at sight.

    Sar''tara observed her surroundings. A pale full moon hung alone in the sky, clouds as thick as smoke surrounding it. This plane was not Illusterra. Else there would have been three moons. The temperature wasn''t ideal. Colder than what Sar''tara preferred much like the second Trial. There was not a single normal tree in sight. A forest of only pines. She wasn''t fond of them, much like most of her sisters. They made no sound when a breeze passed by. There was no soft rustling of leaves brushing against each other. Nothing to remind her that she was in a forest. Just an eerie silence, like those during the cold days of evernight. It made her feel lonely.

    That wasn''t all there was to hate about pine trees. Their sharp needles made them difficult to climb and take refuge in from a powerful predator.

    Or a pack of predators.

    Wolves howled. Sar''tara''s heartrate increased. She didn''t want to admit to being afraid. She''d never feared wolves. But here, in unknown territory, fear came to her as naturally as walking on her legs. She wondered if the wolves had picked up her scent.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    With little choice left to her, Sar''tara began climbing a nearby tree. She flinched every time a sharp point pricked her skin, causing her to nearly fall off multiple times. Constant howling that sounded ever closer each time forced her to try and go higher than she was comfortable with. A few needles drew blood. She endured the pain.

    The scent of her blood gave away her exact location. A dozen wolves surrounded the tree. They barked and snarled, scratching at the trunk and glaring up at her. It was going to be a long night. Sar''tara wasn''t confident in her ability to handle so many beasts at one time. She balanced herself on a branch and slowly nocked an arrow on her bow. Pine branches weren''t the thickest of things. They bent with every slight movement. But there was no sign of it giving out completely. Sar''tara swallowed hard. She had thirty arrows. The forest was overrun with predators. Thirty would not be enough. Aiming through the branches was proving a difficult task. She drew back the bowstring, lining up her arrow tip with that of a wolf head. She couldn''t afford to have a single wasted arrow either.

    The wolves suddenly stopped barking. They moved around in hesitation, some whimpering and backing off altogether. Sar''tara paused. The only time predators backed off was when an even greater threat was near. That greater threat came in the form of alpha males. The wolves surrounding the tree were terribly thin and desperate for food. The slowly approaching alphas showed no signs of famine from what Sar''tara could make of them in the dark of night. Males were known to resort to cannibalism if the need was great enough.

    What ensued was a short lived scramble for survival and supremacy. Some of the starved creatures fled. Others backed up against the tree and tried fighting against their cannibal brethren, but to no avail. Soon, all that was left was three alphas sitting around the pine tree, feasting on what was essentially skin and bone.

    Sar''tara breathed a sigh of relief. This would give her a moment''s respite and an opportunity to seek the true meaning of the Trial. She did not believe slaughtering starving animals only was what Ny''Danis had in mind for the Trial. The beasts below were solely focused on their meal. Sar''tara made quick work of the stationary targets and slowly made her way down the tree. An all too familiar smell entered her nose. She rubbed her temples, forcing the image of a corpse ridden Selharr village out of her head.

    Sar''tara cringed as she knelt down and smeared wolf blood over herself. It would help mask her scent. The only beasts daring enough to attack her would be alphas and there usually weren''t many of them. Nor were they known to hunt together.

    Sar''tara strapped her bow to her back again and instead drew her knives. She looked around at the carcasses that lay before her. The creatures were starved to the point of having the outlines of their bones showing through their skin. "At least they''re not Silver Tails," she muttered.

    Ny''Danis had told stories of Silver Tail wolves that roamed open plains and small woodlands. They were said to be as big as a person, each paw about a foot in length and width.

    She continued along through the pine trees, keeping her eyes peeled for any strange sights. Though, even with her hawk like vision, there was only so far she could see in the dark. Constant howls sounded in the distance. They didn''t appear to get closer which was a relief. Far off in a clearing, Sar''tara spotted a large stone with a caved in section. Silver light reflected off of the stone, giving the surroundings a dim illumination. She thought to take refuge there by lighting a fire. Wolves feared fire and it would help her last the night.

    Only that wasn''t to be.

    Sar''tara''s place of refuge turned out to be the opposite. A wolf den. One where a lone mother was breast feeding four pups. She was terribly thin and the pups consistently whined in hunger. She had nothing to feed them. Nothing until Sar''tara made herself visible to them.

    ***

    Kiali stared at the thin mother wolf. Her gaze flickered to the children and their beady eyes and tiny limbs. They flickered back to the mother, who snarled at Kiali''s bloodstained figure. Her grip around her knife handles tightened. Their edges were waning with all the flesh and sinew they had bit into during the night. The mother wolf barked at her with its ever cautious approach. It was testing to see if Kiali would back away in fear. Not only was she a potential threat to the pups, but she was also potential food, for the thin mother had little milk to offer her children.

    Kiali bent her legs and let her bloodlust ooze out. She directed her hatred towards the mother wolf. All wolves needed to die. Their conditions didn''t matter. It was inconsequential to Kiali. She had no reason to care or offer compassion to predatory animals. Not when they were trying to kill her. The mother wolf, seeing Kiali readying herself to fight, hesitated. She needed to feed her children, but she also needed to be with her children. She knew that getting into a fight and potentially dying would leave the pups to fend for themselves. It would result in their inevitable death. She sat down and bowed her head in submission.

    Kiali looked the mother wolf in her eyes. She saw her own reflection within them. Her own fear. She recognized the wolf''s fear. Absorbed it, and took pride knowing that she had caused it. For Kiali, who had been afraid of wolves all her life, this was a moment of triumph.

    She lunged forth and slew the animal then and there. She stood over it, puffing out her chest and looking down as if she were a despot queen staring down a scraping servant. The pups nervously approached their limp mother and whimpered as they nudged the carcass with their snouts.

    Kiali looked down at them. Imagined what they would become if left alive. Imagined herself sixteen years ago, back against the tree, body shivering in fear as a hungry Silver Tail crept toward her. One of the pups looked up at her, a withered and defeated look set on its face and beady black eyes begging for help. Kiali scowled at it. A drop of blood rolled down the edge of one of her knives. The sound of it touching the ground echoed in her ears. All wolves must die!

    ***

    Sar''tara shuffled back slightly, exposing her hesitation to the mother wolf. The starved beast snarled more viciously. It was kill or be killed. But the pups¡­ She''d only glanced at them once. She refused to look at them again. But their eyes and their fluffy tails¡­ The look of fear and curiosity alike set in their wholesome faces¡­ Sar''tara couldn''t get that image out of her head. A mother and her children¡­ She wanted to leave them alone. But it didn''t seem like the mother would give her the opportunity. With every small shuffle backwards, the wolf took a full step forward.

    The mother entered into lunging distance. Its jaws would soon be aimed at Sar''tara''s throat. But the predator wasn''t confident. Little leaping strength remained in those stalky limbs. It gave Sar''tara the opportunity to prepare. To bend her knees low and hold her knives before her face. The mother finally jumped in. But it was already too close to the huntress. The moment it opened its jaws, Sar''tara''s hand flashed forth and impaled the wolf through the upper part of its mouth, the tip of the bone knife protruding through the beast''s skull. It was firmly stuck there.

    Sar''tara had a hard time pulling her knife out. When she finally had, she approached the den where the pups sat. They backed up against the stone formation, quaking in fear. Sar''tara stared at them long and hard. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced back the tears that threatened to burst out. There were still occasional howls off in the distance.

    The pups needed to die.

    Their mother was gone. There was no one left to fend for them. Nothing left to bring them food. No food for them to even eat. Left alone, they''d either suffer a torturous death to starvation, or they would find themselves in the jaws of an alpha. Even if they did manage to grow up somehow, their future remained bleak. They would likely remain skin and bone just like their mother and be forced to live a grueling life that animals need not suffer. The balance of the forest was broken. Predators numbered greater than prey. Balance needed to be restored.

    Sar''tara knelt down. One by one, she slit the pup''s throats, giving them as painless a death as she could. Her heart felt heavy. "Forgive me," she whispered in the ear of the last one. It squirmed around in her hand, its barely developed claws scratching her thighs as she clutched its soft furry body and then dragged her knife across the neck as quickly as she could manage.

    The white gate back to the grove opened up after that. Sar''tara stared at the pine needle filled ground for a while, watching her tears fall. She then stood and entered into the gate just in time to see a gate closing behind Kiali. Her sister had just returned as well.

    Sar''tara checked her knives. There was no blood on them. None on herself either. No trace of the alternate plane remained. None but that of her heavy heart and a guilty conscience threatening to tear it apart.

    "Well done to the both of you on completing the Trial," Ny''Danis said. "The final test is to be conducted without allowing a moment''s respite." The deity outstretched her arms and two white gates opened once more.

    "But Mother, will you not tell us the purpose behind that Trial?" Sar''tara cried.

    "I will explain everything once you have passed the final Trial. I am happy. You''ve both made it this far. The next Trial is not so physically demanding. Please enter the gates at once."

    But¡­ The Trial had been deemed complete when the pups had been killed. Sar''tara looked down as another gate formed before her. The Trial required cruelty on her part to prevent the further suffering of the wolf pups. But knowing that didn''t change the ache in her chest. She turned to face the gate into the final Trial.

    ***

    The two huntresses entered at their Mother''s command. Ny''Danis let out a sigh of sorrow. She touched her eyes, wiping away their corners. Her created daughters stared at her. Their hushed voices echoing through the grove.

    "Mother is sad."

    "Yes. Very sad."

    "Why is she sad?"

    "Is it another prediction?"

    "Should we ask her?"

    "No. When Mother is sad, she likes to be left alone."

    That wasn''t true. Ny''Danis did not prefer solitude. But there was no one to understand her worries. No one she could open her heart to. Any that once existed were now gone and forgotten from Illusterra. She was the last ancient being left in the world. The last living memory from the world''s beginning. From its re-beginning after the War of Ashes.

    Ny''Danis wept. It wasn''t because she was lonely. She had shed plenty of tears for such a cause. She wept because of a prediction. Sar''tara had passed the Trial of Wisdom. At its very end, she''d realized the nature of the Trial, though unknowingly. It was to restore balance to the forest. To recognize that sometimes, cruelty is a necessity. To see beyond just what lay before her.

    Kiali, on the other hand, had not passed the Trial. She had killed the wolf pups, thus fulfilling the conditions of completing the Trial. But she killed them out of hatred. Not out of wisdom. It would create a lasting impact on her heart. One that she would come to realize in the next Trial. Which would ultimately result in her failure. Then consequently, her death.

    Should I stop her?

    Once again, the Forest Deity found herself repeating that timeless conversation in her own head.

 Chapter 15: A Trial of Conviction

    <u>Chapter 15 - A Trial of Conviction</u>

    Ny''Danis looked at her feet through her fingers, head buried in her hands. She pressed two thumbs to her temples. A dull rumble shook her throne. It moved the tiny pebbles at her feet. As if the sound of her own sorrow filled heart was causing the ground to tremble.

    ¡­No¡­

    Ny''Danis frowned. She focused on the rumbling. They were vibrations. Vibrations being picked up by the roots of trees as if a storm were brewing outside of the forest. Or a marching army of great size were passing by. The vibrations grew stronger with her every breath. Ny''Danis closed her fists. It was normal. Soldiers moved by every now and then. They would march past the forest. And if they didn''t, no human army had the strength to overcome her power or that of her Guardians. Time and again they''d tried. Time and again they''d failed, her daughters delivering overwhelming victories. As was expected of them.

    The forest deity turned her attention back to the Trials. Back to watching her two daughters and hoping they proved her predictions wrong.

    ***

    Horrid screeching echoed through the dark chamber. It had begun the moment Sar''tara stepped out of the gate. Her eyes searched every corner for the source as a sheen of cold sweat formed on her skin. The screeching continued. It came from the very end of the chamber. A dark cavern like space with smooth and glossy walls. Ahead of her lay a long tunnel, at the end of which was a pale light akin to that of the moons. She took a cautious step forward, feeling her footing with her toes. A regular rocky surface.

    Something repulsive overwhelmed her. Her instinct screamed at her to turn around. To run in the opposite direction, where there was nothing but a wall. The air in the chamber grew heavy. Sar''tara didn''t know what lay ahead, but she knew that she didn''t want to go any further. Her throat felt restricted. Her heartrate picked up its pace. Whatever lay ahead was ominous enough to make her joints stiff.

    The final Trial. Perhaps the hardest.

    Sar''tara grit her teeth and moved forward one step at a time, each footfall slower than the last. The feeling of dread grew. Imagination took hold of her thoughts. She wondered what the final test would be. Some animal I''ve never seen before? Or a creature not of this world? She racked her brain for a similar sounding screech. Nothing came to mind. All she knew was that the sound could not possibly be human.

    The end of the tunnel grew near. Sar''tara swallowed a heavy lump in her throat. She was led to another chamber, this one smaller than the last. It had a domed ceiling with a hole in the center from where silver light shone. The beam of light revealed the most hideous thing the she''d ever seen. The creature before her continued to screech, its razor sharp teeth threatening to rip apart any flesh it came into contact with. At the center of its chest there was a smoldering hole. Charred lines had been pressed into the flesh around the hole. They were brands. Chronary rune brands. Sar''tara backed away at the sight of it.

    "Approach it."

    The voice of Ny''Danis. Her Mother''s voice served to calm her, but only slightly. The creature was bound and on its knees. Its arms were held down by iron rope nailed to the ground. It rattled as the creature thrashed about, trying to break free. Sar''tara did not know the strength of metal. She doubted it could hold the creature for long. The way it screamed and moved exuded an intense desire for violence. Its skin was a dark red. Some parts entirely black. Three rows of horns lined its muscular back. Two thin pairs of eyes ran across its forehead. No nose. Claw like fingers and toes. And an excessively wide mouth.

    Sar''tara didn''t need anyone to tell her what she was looking at. It wasn''t an animal. It was a creature of the ancient world. A being from the War of Ashes. A devlish soldier created by the king of the Tortured Throne. Created to wage his war. A Heartless. Sar''tara''s first instinct was to kill the thing right then and there. She stepped back and nocked an arrow on her bow.

    "Approach it!"

    But¡­ There were not buts. It was her Mother''s command. If she failed the final Trial, then everything would have been for nought. Everything she ever strived for would come to an end and her own life would be forfeit. Sar''tara took measured, but hesitant steps towards the Heartless. She awaited further orders from Ny''Danis, wondering just how close she was expected to get to the creature. It showed no signs of tiring. It thrashed about as if it had boundless strength. Sar''tara swallowed again when she was less than two feet away from it. The nightmare reached out and snapped its teeth, its face mere inches away from her torso. Its four disc like red eyes were filled with bloodlust.

    "Place your hand on its head."

    Sar''tara hesitated. The moment she did that, her hand would be bitten off. But it was an order. She reached out, fingers trembling. The Heartless stopped moving and looked curiously at her hand. Sar''tara rested her palm atop its surprisingly smooth head. Her vision suddenly blurred. The room spun wildly. The dark cavern disappeared. She was standing on a field of grass. An open plain. Before her stood a tall, bearded person with a slightly round belly. A man, for only men had beards.

    The man was smiling. He held an odd spear in his hand. One with three sharp points at one end. The points were made of metal. "She looks just like you," the man said.

    Sar''tara frowned. "Pardon?"

    The man approached her. Sar''tara held her hand out and stepped back, not entirely sure whether he was friend or foe. He didn''t stop. He went through her hand. Through her. He walked right through her as if she wasn''t even there. Sar''tara turned around. The man had been speaking to another woman. One of short but dark hair. She wore an odd outfit that covered the entirety of her body, save for anything above her neck. In her arms was a small child. "What is going on?" Sar''tara asked. No one acknowledged her. She was invisible to them.

    "Witness. See and decide. Bear witness to this man''s memory. And then kill him. Or don''t. The choice is yours, my beloved daughter."

    See a memory? And then kill? Realization struck her. "Mother¡­ This¡­this man is the Heartless?"

    "Yes."

    "How. How does a person become a monster?" Silence. Ny''Danis did not respond. "Of course," Sar''tara muttered. This was her Trial. She needed to see it all for herself. ''Kill. Or don¡¯t.'' She was to make the correct decision of the two. Simple enough. She would kill of course. Person or not, the Heartless were beyond redemption. They were monsters with a single thought. The thought to kill at their master''s command. Or at least that was what Ny''Danis had said when narrating the stories of the War of Ashes. There was something missing. Something Ny''Danis hadn''t said.

    There''s a lot of things she never said¡­ Lingering guilt of killing her siblings still plagued her mind. Sar''tara crossed her arms, watching the scene from the past play out, less certain now of what decision she would come to.

    ***

    A man who had become a Heartless. Looking at how innocent he looked, Kiali found the matter hard to believe. She was certain that she would kill the creature when the memory ended. But she was curious all the same. Curious about not just the man''s life, but the world around him as well. This was her first time seeing Illusterra outside the Papillion Forest. The golden sun in a clear sky ¡ªan image unhindered by numerous branches and leaves. A field of tall grass. Kiali wanted to know more. She wanted to see these people''s homes. See the strange structures that plains dwellers lived in and their habitats that Ny''Danis called ''cities''.

    She inspected the odd spear in the man''s hand as he conversed with the woman. Its three points were spread a few inches away from each other. Akin to a spear. But wholly different to what she''d seen during the second Trial. The man headed towards a large hut. Its height was nearly three times that of the huts at the Selharr village. And its length and width much greater as well. Kiali assumed it to be a palace. Or a castle. Though, it was made of wood. Ny''Danis had said that castles were made of stone.

    She inspected the walls of the building. It was made of cut wood stacked on top of each other, each piece held in place with iron nails. It was sturdy. As sturdy as a fortress walls should be. The man opened the gates. Kiali held her breath, wondering what would be revealed. She expected it to be filled with men ¡ªsoldiers dressed from head to toe in iron.

    It was filled with dried grass.

    Large piles of dried grass on a floor of dirt mixed with animal droppings. There were also beast like animals of black and white sitting behind a fence. Kiali cocked her head to the side. She assumed the creature a horse, though its appearance differed from the one the ghost soldier had ridden during the second Trial. Was this a stable then instead of a castle?

    The man used the three pointed spear to move large piles of dried grass and place it before the animals. He continued to do menial labor until the sun began to set. Kiali watched all of this with intrigue. She followed him to a smaller structure. A home. It was still bigger than any of the Selharr huts. The man sat down on a wooden seat with a heavy sigh.

    "How much longer?" he asked.

    "Almost ready," a woman called from around the corner. "Can you come pick your daughter up? She''s too close to the knives and my hands are occupied."

    Kiali cocked her head. Your daughter the woman said. Could men birth children? Ny''Danis had only ever mentioned women giving birth.

    The man grunted as he rose. He rounded the corner where the woman stood over a fire near the wall, stirring something in an iron pot that hung above it.

    "Come here, Lily. Mother is busy," the man said as he picked the girl up. She started crying and grabbed hold of a strand of the woman''s hair.

    "Ouch!"

    "Lily, let go of your mother''s hair!"

    Kiali scratched her head. How could the child belong to both the man and the woman? Were they gods or just people? Kiali had never seen a man before. All she knew was that he had a beard. So he had to be a man. Aside from that, she didn''t know what they were like. Or what they could do. To her, this was a learning experience.

    Despite not being able to make sense of things, it was obvious that beings from outside the forest were very different from the Vashiri women. The way the man carried his daughter reminded Kiali of how Ny''Danis held her infant daughters, rocking them back and forth while telling tales of the world outside the forest. Some part of Kiali wished she were a child again. She missed that feeling of resting her head on her Mother''s lap. Of having Ny''Danis'' hand run through her hair. Kiali looked upon the girl with jealousy. It was obvious that the man and woman loved the child very much. Would they allow their child to kill family as my own Mother did?

    The woman came around the corner, holding the hot iron pot with a cloth rag protecting her hands. She set it on the table. Steam rose from within. Kiali looked inside. Some sort of a stew. But she couldn''t smell anything just as how she couldn''t touch any of it as well. The stew was poured into three separate bowls and the family dug in. "Oh! This fragrance¡­ Is it sage?" the man asked.

    "Yes. I found some wild ones growing out back as they do this time of year."

    "Still. There''s something else making this taste much better than before."

    The woman smiled, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "Take a guess."

    "Is it a spice? No. Those are expensive nowadays. Then¡­ salt?"

    "Yes. The local lord was handing out small amounts at the village square. It seems he came by a large shipment and wanted to share. There''s enough to last the winter if we use it once every cycle."

    "Is that so? Lord Cairn is truly kind. I envy those living across the border. Their salt mines allow them to enjoy such pleasures at little cost. I''d¡ª" the man was cut off by a sudden splash of stew hitting his face. The woman giggled. Lily, their daughter, was making more of a mess than she was eating. They reprimanded the girl with kind words. The woman took her daughter''s spoon and fed her slowly.

    Kiali found¡­ perfection in this scene. But it didn''t make sense. The family before her seemed normal people living normal lives on the plains. They didn''t seem soldiers or deities. All her life, Kiali had thought of all plains dwellers as enemies to the forest. As greedy beings with no regard for life at all. Perhaps her views had been narrow. The world outside was vast. Maybe there were some decent people among them.

    The room suddenly spun. Kiali''s vision blurred just as it had before. She stumbled to maintain her balance. The scenery changed. The family of three were standing outside of their home. A pair of men dressed in iron stood before them. Real soldiers this time. The man looked older. He had more lines on his face and his beard was unruly. The woman was a little rounder. She had her hands around a girl''s shoulder. The same girl from before. Their daughter, Lily. Only, she was now tall enough for her head to reach her mother''s waist.

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    "But I''ve never held a sword in my life!" the man was saying, trembling. The skin on his forehead creased in frustration.

    "The army will teach you how," one of the men said, removing a helmet from his head. His breastplate and pauldrons had the image of a flame. You will be well compensated. A gold crown for joining to keep your family fed. And ten copper halves every nine day cycle."

    The man paused as if considering the offer. "I still refuse," he said after a while. "If I fall in battle, the pay will stop. No one will take care of Laira and Lily then. And Laira can''t maintain the farm herself."

    "Sir, this matter is not up for debate. You have until dawn to pack your belongings. Else we will be forced to drag you away."

    "That can''t be! We are subjects of Lord Cairn. He wouldn''t allow such injustice. Wars happen everywhere. Never in my forty-five years has there been a forced conscription!"

    The armored men sighed. "This order is from Lord Cairn himself. This is no longer a simple war. The Tortured King and his horde of monsters are burning everything in sight. He is a calamity set upon destroying all life. You are mere peasants. Vyetrim is on the verge of destruction. And¡ª"

    "Vyetrim? That''s hundreds of miles to the northeast! What business do we have helping another nation? One that''s even attacked us in the past!"

    "Sir, you aren''t listening. This no longer is a war for power, but one for survival. Vyetrim has held for two decades. And that is only because of the supplies it received from us and elsewhere. The Tortured King''s reach has extended beyond that nation. He knows it is all but fallen. Tyrella''s Hold is short on manpower. The Emperor is busy repelling the hordes to the south. The Saintess herself was the one to order conscription. Lady Tyrella made this decision with utmost regret. Even the pale skinned nobles from the Kal''Kar Mountains have been called into battle."

    Kiali twisted her mouth, trying to make sense of the situation based on familiar names. Vyetrim, the destroyed nation? Tyrella, the first daughter of Ny''Danis? Based on her Mother''s stories, this past was from earlier parts of the War of Ashes.

    The man''s face was drained of color. "Kal''Kar? You expect us to fight alongside Vampires?"

    "You must. Or all life in Illusterra will soon face extinction. We will be here again at dawn. Please do not make us spend more time than necessary."

    The soldiers marched down a dirt path. The man sat down heavily on the steps to his home. The wooden boards creaked under his weight. He buried his face in his hands. Kiali guessed that he was being recruited to fight the Tortured King. A noble cause, though he was clearly against it. She looked passed him and at his family. Of course. He wants to stay and protect his home as Guardians do.

    Kiali placed a hand on his shoulder, sympathizing with his burden. It went right through, reminding her that all she was doing was viewing a memory from a time gone. The woman named Laira was the one to comfort him instead. Everything spun again and the scene changed once more. The sky was dark. Hints of first light crept over the horizon. The two soldiers had returned. They were riding atop animals. These ones bore similarities to the one Kiali had seen in the second Trial. These had to be horses, she was sure of it. Though it left her puzzled. She wondered what the black and white animals in the large stable were.

    "Are you ready?" a soldier asked as he looked down at the man.

    The bearded man nodded, though reluctantly. He carried spare clothing in a cloth pack. Aside from that, he was bringing no other belongings. He kissed both Laira and Lily on the cheek before saying farewell while tears rolled down the sides of his face. Laira was crying as well. Lily just stared, confused and frightened, clearly perplexed as to why her father was being sent away.

    Kiali''s heart felt heavy. It was similar to when she''d turned seven and Ny''Danis had sent her to the Selharr village. She remembered how much her chest had hurt then. The sleepless nights of nothing but crying. The fear of being alone in a new environment while only being a child. The fear of not seeing her Mother again for a very long time, perhaps forever. The man knew that he would be gone for years to come, as did the woman. The girl was not yet old enough to understand. Half the love she had been receiving was being taken away from her.

    The scene changed again. Kiali was now standing on a dirt plain littered with corpses of men and creatures. Mostly creatures. The same man was there, his round belly, gone, but his beard was longer and greyer than before. He was wearing iron armor. In his hand was a long iron spear with a flag attached on one end. The flag bore an image of a flame similar to that on the armor of the soldiers. The man was waving the flag, crying out happily. A few others around him cheered as well. All of them wore iron armor save for one.

    "The hordes have been beaten!" the man cried. The cheering grew in volume. Kiali tried turning away from the corpse ridden sight, reminded of the Selharr village after the battle. But bodies lay everywhere. Strange creatures lay dead. But they were all extremely small. Hardly chest height.

    "Don''t be stupid," the man without armor said. He wore an outfit of white which extended to his knees. His skin was pale and he had bright shoulder length hair the color of leaves during the fading period. He prodded at a corpse with his thin sword. "These are mere imps and ratmen. Creatures that live beneath the surface. Their numbers seem to be limitless. They are only meant to tire us. The real army ¡ªthe army of Heartless¡ª has yet to come. As soon as Vyetrim falls¡­"

    "Surely Vyetrim will not fall," one of the soldiers said. His hair was white and mostly missing. "The Saintess has sailed to Vyetrim. She will surely save it! I''ve lived in the Hold all my life. The Saintess is as strong as she is beautiful!"

    The blonde man bore a blank face. "We can only hope¡­"

    Kiali began connecting the dots from what she heard of the conversation. She tried getting a better look at the battlefield, but everything spun again. The scene had changed from one battlefield to another. This one was active. Lines of soldiers stood between what she assumed were mountains. Towering rock formations that seemed to touch the sky. The same man and his fellow soldiers stood in the vanguard. An eerie silence hung in the air. Everyone shifted their feet. Some swallowed hard. Others held their weapons with trembling fingers.

    Kiali sensed an overwhelming amount of malice from beyond the horizon. She shuddered. Her mouth went dry. Arms reached back to draw her bow. The fear causing aura transcended the boundaries of time and space.

    An army of Heartless were approaching.

    "Ten years. I''ve been here ten years already," the man said.

    "This is my seventh," said another. "I left a baby son back at home. I wonder what he looks like now."

    "My little Lily must be of marriageable age by now. This has to be the end right? All this time, we were fighting mere imps and the like. All this time, the Tortured King has hidden his face. Surely he will show himself now."

    Kiali looked down, ashamed. These people cared about the children they''d left. They didn''t want to leave them at all. But Ny''Danis on the other hand¡­

    "Hidden¡­" the blonde man echoed. He seemed to know more than the others. But he spoke no further on the matter. All of the men stood side by side, tall and proud. They had fought together for a long time and had forged bonds through everything they''d gone through. Kiali saw in them the same bonds she had with her Selharr sisters. Though these men did not share the same blood, they were one entity in that moment.

    And all of that was shattered in mere blinking seconds.

    Terrible screeches pierced the darkening sky. They reverberated through the mountains. They bounced off the iron armor of the soldiers, resonating between them, causing the pebbles at their feet to quake just as their knees. The army of Heartless crested over a hill and descended upon the men. Monsters of red and green and black skin. Horns on their heads and backs. Some held weapons. Others had sharp claws and teeth to use. The very sight of them was enough to drive any pride and strength out of the soldiers. They were wetting themselves in fear.

    Kiali was reminded of the time she had her back to the tree trunk when faced with a Silver Tail wolf. The fear she felt then and the hatred for those creatures that had risen in her heart at that moment. They need to overcome their fear. Direct their hatred towards their enemies. Or they will f¡ª

    The line did not hold. It broke before the battle began. The vast majority of soldiers fled. With the defense line thinned, horns began sounding from behind. Even more soldiers were beginning to turn now. They were signals for retreat, Kiali realized. The vanguard stood still. They couldn''t hear the signal due to the ear splitting screeches. The Heartless fell upon them. A slaughter ensued, claws rending flesh and teeth tearing limbs.

    Kiali closed her eyes, hoping for it all to end. She didn''t want to look at the monsters. She felt as if she were there herself, waiting to die. Everything that came into contact with her, went right through her. Still, she couldn''t help but be nauseated by the malicious aura radiating from each Heartless soldier. The scalding heat pouring out of their smoldering chest holes. The pleas for help and cries for mercy from the dying men.

    Few were left alive by the end. They fell to their knees, despairing and broken. They''d all fought for so many years and it all ended in a single moment of vanity. The monstrous creatures ignored them and marched past. Their numbers, boundless and vast. The same man Kiali had been following was still alive, staring at the ground, trembling.

    "How?" the man muttered. "All this time we thought we were winning¡­ Is this what it feels like to have hope shattered?" He clutched his chest. His forehead fell to the bloodstained ground. All his efforts were rendered useless. His accomplishments ripped away. He wailed aloud just like many others. "It hurts. Why does it hurt? How did we lose?" he screamed.

    Kiali felt herself on the verge of tears herself. She shared his exact emotions. "You lost because you didn''t fight," she said. "Turn around. Hunt them down from behind. It isn''t over yet." Pointless. She was just an outsider witnessing what had already happened.

    The scene changed again. This time, the man was alone. His form, disfigured and unsightly. His beard reached down to his belly. His figure, exceedingly thin. He used an iron spear as a crutch as he treaded down an empty field. Kiali felt the need to help the man. But there was nothing for her to do. Nothing she could even say.

    "Home¡­ Home¡­" he continued to mutter through cracked lips, his voice hoarse and his eyes foggy. "I¡­ did not desert. Home. Laira¡­ Lily. Must protect¡­ home."

    Kiali followed him. All the way to a scene of ruin. She recognized the place. It was the man''s home. It was where he had originally set out from. But there was nought but burnt remains there. The fields of tall grass had been levelled and blackened. There were no signs of the woman or the girl. The man fell to his knees and screamed. His loved ones were also gone. He had lost everything.

    "They¡­ Them. It was them¡­ They sent me away. They sent me to fight!" he cried with a vicious voice, fist and spear raised to the sky. "To protect the people. And look what happened. Look! At! What! Happened! They sent me away and didn''t protect my wife. Or my child! It''s all their fault. The soldiers. The Emperor. If I hadn¡¯t left¡­ I-I could have fought. Could have protected my family. Curse you. Curse you all. I''ll kill you. I''ll kill everything. All people. All Heartless. No one deserves to live! This-this cruel world! It should end! Arrrgh!"

    "That isn''t true!" Kiali cried. "You did your best. But¡­" But what? He couldn''t even hear her. He was screaming his anger at nothing. Kiali choked. He''d wanted to protect his family but was forced to abandon them. What would it have been like if Mother had taken care of us?

    The sun suddenly disappeared. Black clouds covered the sky. "Do you want vengeance?" A cold voice asked.

    Kiali stumbled, scanning her surroundings for the source, hugging her arms. She shivered. Cloud puffs came from her every breath as if she were there at that moment.

    "Vengeance? No. I¡­ I just want it all to end. Want everything to disappear. I want my family back."

    "Do you wish for the power to end it all? The power to bring to justice those who wronged you? Those who ripped you away from your family?"

    "Power? Justice¡­ to those that took my family¡­"

    "The power to burn," the voice boomed. "To bring ruination. To level all so that none again suffer as you did. The power to be a hero!"

    "No! Say no," Kiali pleaded, realizing this for what it was. The point of turning. Of becoming a monster. Falling to ruin wasn''t the proper way. "Fight it! You''re being lied to!"

    "I want power," the man whispered. "Yes¡­ I''ll kill them so that no one else is snatched from their family. Power¡­ so that no one else suffers!"

    "Very well."

    Smoke covered the torched grounds. A figure was born from it, its outline barely visible. Kiali waved the smoke away as her eyes began to cloud with stinging tears. One thing remained clear. A pair of icicle blue eyes hidden in the smoke. The eyes of the Tortured King. The Fallen One. End''s Beginning. Light''s Shadow. Many names had been attributed to him.

    The eyes stared down at the man. Kiali looked at the soldier. His appearance was changing. A cylinder of smoke pierced his chest. Its form then changed into that of a grey hand holding a pen. Heat haze rose from the pen tip as Chronary runes were carved into the hole in the man''s chest. His appearance began to change. His withered and bony form was being filled with renewed vigor. The color of his skin was changing from fair to red.

    "No! He doesn''t want this power. He''s not thinking straight!" Kiali shouted, knowing it to all be in vain. Ice eyes fell upon her for a split second. Cold pierced her very being. Then they focused back on the man. Did he¡­ see her? From within a scene of the past?

    An ear-splitting scream caused Kiali to cover her ears. The man was no longer there. He had changed into the very monster he had been fighting against for years.

    "Be reborn, oh incarnation of destruction. For to be a Heartless, one must lose oneself first. Go. Go and join your brethren. Follow them and destroy all to your heart''s contempt."

    The memory ended. Kiali found herself back in the dark chamber. She was sitting on her rear, sweat rolling down her arms and back. The Heartless was still bound and on its knees. It was no longer screaming. Its head hung low, as if it''d been defeated. Kiali thought she saw tears in its four eyes. She grit her teeth as she stood up. It was time for her to decide.

    No matter what happened, she was looking at a Heartless. She nocked an arrow and drew back, aiming at the creature''s bare chest. It needed to die. Its life was a tragedy. But that didn''t justify all the lives that it had taken after becoming a Heartless. It didn''t justify its existence. It chose to be a monster. It failed to conquer its emotions.

    Kiali''s hand trembled. After all those thoughts, she still hesitated. The creature looked up, its eyes full of fear. In them, she saw that same man again. Who he had been before he''d broken. All that he''d tried to do. She recalled her own feeling of loss. The Selharr sisters that were gone. The Kreivan sisters she''d killed. She remembered mercilessly slaughtering all those wolves in the previous Trial. As much as she convinced herself that she was killing because they would kill her, to them, she was the monster. She was the Heartless. She had killed a mother wolf before her pups and then proceeded to kill the pups as well. Just as a Heartless would kill children without hesitation.

    A feeling of guilt overcame Kiali. What have I done? Who¡­ Who have I become? She lowered her bow. The contents of her stomach threatened to burst out. The huntress fell to her knees. She looked at the creature before her. It was crying. It was regretting all that it had done. Just as she was. "I¡­ Mother. I cannot kill it. I will not. It would be¡­ wrong."

    Is that the answer you have chosen? Ny''Danis asked.

    "Yes."

    A white gate opened, leading to the grove. Kiali breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she''d made the appropriate decision.

    ***

    "No!" Sar''tara cried as the man she''d seen was no longer. What replaced him was a hideous monster instead. The memory ended and she was now back in the dark chamber. She gasped for the air that her scream had robbed her lungs of. The monster before her was still on its knees. Sar''tara took a moment to relax and gather herself. The memory was hard to bear. It left her chest aching. It was now time for her to make the decision that would decide her life.

    The Heartless had its head hanging down. Tears flowed from its eyes, and hers also. Sar''tara drew back her bowstring. She squeezed her eyelids shut, fearing she would miss the shot. Hoping she would miss it. Knowing that if she did, she wouldn''t have the strength to draw another arrow. She didn''t want to kill the man. There needed to be another way out. A way to turn him back into what he once was. A chance at redemption. But nothing came to Sar''tara''s mind.

    Dwelling too long shows a lack in conviction, she recalled.

    Sar''tara took in a deep breath. She swallowed a lump. Then let go of the bowstring, convincing herself that the cruelty of her actions was a necessity. The slight twang echoed in her ears for what seemed like an eternity. It was followed by a thud. The creature fell back, an arrow protruding from its skull. Its body turned black and then crumbled into dust as if it had been made of ashes. Sar''tara let out a heavy sigh. There was no returning now. No regretting her decisions. What was done, was done. What mattered now was whether her decision had been the correct one.

    The white gate opened before her. Despite having made the right choice, she didn¡¯t feel relieved in the slightest. The only thing Sar''tara now felt was guilt.

 Chapter 16: Why Mother?

    <u>Chapter 16 - Why Mother?</u>

    The Sun held his hand high above his head. The Union legion halted their march. Flames in the sky began burning out. Flames on the ground began dancing about. The march had taken over ten days. The Papillion Forest lay just ahead. Approach too close and the winged darkspawn and beasts dressed as women would begin their attack. The Sun knew they were watching, waiting, like a patient predator stalking its prey. Waiting for the moment a single person strayed too close to their borders.

    He dismounted his horse. Horses would be useless in the thick of the woods. A line of catapults had been set up before the Union legions. Ammunition boulders had oils poured over them. The engineers waited to set them alight. They knelt before their lord. "Arise, my stars abound," he commanded.

    They rose to their feet, one hand still firmly pressed against their chest in salute. The silver buttons upon their black coat uniforms shone like stars in a night sky. The Sun smiled. He preferred men of intellectual profession to soldiers. They were the closest in sharing like minds with a scholar. "Preparations are complete, Your Brilliance."

    "As is made evident by your idle hands," The Sun commented. "The forest will soon be surrounded. We will begin once the army is in position." No sooner had he said that, distant signal flares rose high into the sky like the flickering flames of a candle. He turned to the mounted men behind him. "Honor guard, dismount. Follow my lead. The rest, create a perimeter and send half into the forest once the path is cleared. Kill any and every one you see, even if you need to sacrifice yourself to do it. The darkspawn hidden within have been left alone for far too long." The Sun turned back to the line of engineers, their coats blending well with the encroaching darkness. "You may begin."

    The lead engineer nodded. A man with many tired lines upon his face and withering strands of white hair. He had a slightly hunched back. One hand still pressed against his chest, he bowed lower than his hunch. "Yes, Your Brilliance." Each engineer gave a formal bow before taking their places at their designated boulder throwers. Torches were held against the oil coated stones. They roared to life. "Cut loose all at once in three, two, one, fire!"

    Flaming boulders rose to the sky, soaring through like comets too near for comfort. They descended. Then crashed. The Papillion Forest was lit ablaze. "Reload!" The Sun commanded. He drew the golden blade at his waist. "Do not stop until I have reached its borders!"

    ***

    Ny''Danis swept away the wet corners of her eyes with a thumb. She knew the Trials would end that way. She didn¡¯t want to do what came next. No parent would ever want to do such a thing. But it was necessary. To ensure that history wouldn''t repeat itself. To ensure that the same mistakes she had made would never be repeated by her daughters.

    Kiali came through the gate, her eyes burning with the red hue of sorrow. She smiled up at her Mother, high cheeks lush and round and shining damp. Ny''Danis came down and gave her daughter a hug. "You did well to endure all of that¡­"

    "It hurts, Mother. It hurts so badly."

    "I know. I''ll make it go away," Ny''Danis replied. She breathed out a tide of regret through barely parted lips. She then stuck a blinding hand through Kiali''s chest. The girl''s eyes went wide. Gasps escaped her in fragments not audible. Ny''Danis could only imagine the terrible pain her daughter was feeling.

    "Moth¡­er¡­?"

    "Forgive me, Kiali," Ny''Danis croaked. A stone had settled at the base of her throat, making breathing difficult. "You did not pass. This is the one Trial I do not want my daughters to fail. Because I am forced to kill you myself."

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    "Why?" Kiali managed as blood rolled down the side of her lips.

    "A Heartless cannot be turned back. There is no compassion to show to them. They must be put down. That is what it means to have conviction. You kill them despite knowing their past. Every Heartless has suffered a tragedy. That¡¯s how they''re born¡­ Goodbye, my dear daughter. Know that you were loved. I¡­I hope that your dreams will be sweet." Ny''Danis pulled her hand away. Kiali collapsed to the ground. She bore a smile on her now scarlet lips. As if she didn¡¯t even once question her Mother''s decision to kill her. As if such a pitiful explanation had been enough. Ny''Danis wanted to weep. But she held it in. Kiali needed to be returned to the ground before Sar''tara returned and discovered the¡ª

    Ny''Danis whipped her head around. The tree roots were picking up strong tremors. Tremors that were slowly engulfing the forest and were too close for comfort. Birds fluttered out of trees as a high pitched cry echoed. The Vashiri war cry. The voices of the forest''s Guardians. No!

    Ny''Danis clenched her hands. Another invasion. Greedy humans. Foolish greedy humans. She''d been too preoccupied with her daughters'' Trials to pay attention to the encroaching army. Her Guardians could have better prepared had she warned them earlier. No matter. They were strong enough. Mere humans couldn''t fell them.

    Right?

    Another white gate formed as the second huntress came through. Sar''tara looked up to Ny''Danis with teary eyes. Then looked down at her sister''s lifeless form. Then at Ny''Danis'' bloody hand. She blinked once. Then their eyes met. "Mother?"

    ***

    It couldn''t be real. It was a lie. A delusion formed from exhaustion.

    Sar''tara blinked. She blinked again, harder. The horror before her didn''t disappear. There stood her Mother, her hand red with blood and a hole within Kiali''s chest who rested on the ground, eyes closed, unmoving. "Mother?" Sar''tara asked again. "What¡­ why?"

    Ny''Danis looked down at her feet. "Your sister did not pass the Trial," she whispered, hiding her voice as if ashamed or afraid. Or both.

    Didn''t pass? Kiali didn''t pass? But that was¡­impossible. No. Of course it wasn''t. Sar''tara shook her head. Most sisters fail. And failing the Guardian Trials meant certain death. Yes. It all made sense. There was nothing wrong here.

    Nothing other than the fact that failing didn''t mean dying. It meant being killed. By the one you trusted most. Loved the most. Admired and looked up to all your life.

    "Failed?" Sar''tara seethed. "Failed?" She trembled. Her eyelids squeezed shut. Tears still escaped. "And that is a reasonable justification to kill her?" she screamed. "Failed you say. As if that''s an appropriate explanation! You were her Mother. Our ¡ªmy Mother. Why! Why would you? This¡­"

    Sar''tara fell to her knees. Betrayed. Betrayed by her own Mother. She crawled to Kiali. Her sister was smiling. Why was she smiling? Why wasn''t she disappointed? Sar''tara pressed her face into Kiali''s belly and cried. Everflowers bloomed where blood had fallen.

    "Sar''tara¡­ I¡ª"

    Sar''tara looked up with red eyes, glaring at Ny''Danis. Her hand reached down to her thigh for her knives. In that moment, she felt nothing but hatred for her own Mother. The ground suddenly shook just as her fingers touched the handle of a knife. Sar''tara turned around. An orange glow could be seen through the forest canopy. But the night sky was completely dark.

    "Run," Ny''Danis said.

    Sar''tara turned back. "What?"

    "I said run!"

    Sar''tara rose to her feet. "Run? From what? You? From a cold blooded¡ª"

    Ny''Danis gave Sar''tara a hard shove, causing her to fall on her back. She glared at her Mother, teeth clenched and mouth open as if she were a predator baring her fangs. "Run you foolish girl! The forest is under attack. Go and warn your sisters!"

    "But Kiali¡ª"

    "GO! I don''t expect you to understand me," Ny''Danis said, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Her hands trembled. "Nor take my words to be enough. But this hurts me more than anyone else. It''s like ripping my own heart out! I don''t want more of my daughters dying. Run hard, Sar''tara. The forest is surrounded. My Guardians cannot stop them all from entering at once. Your sisters must be prepared to fight!"

    Sar''tara sat on her rear for a moment, mouth agape. She stared up at her Mother, frowning. Another rumble shook the ground. More orange light spilled into the grove. Sar''tara crawled backwards, eyes still on Ny''Danis. The nymphs of the grove were whispering amongst themselves, staring at the direction of the orange lights.

    The huntress finally rose to her feet and began running. She turned her head to glance at her Mother and dead sister one last time before breaking out into a hard sprint.

    Sar''tara ran. But she didn¡¯t run because Ny''Danis told her to. She ran from the monster that had killed her sister. The monster she''d loved her whole life.

 Chapter 17: Invasion

    <u>Chapter 17 - Invasion</u>

    The Sun marched forth, his dark cloaked honor guard following him. High pitched cries burst from the forest. They weren''t screams of fear or chaos. They were the sounds of a soul rending war cry. An all too familiar war cry. Mosaic winged creatures soared into the sky. Scantily clad beast women ¡ªeach over seven feet tall¡ª came charging out of the forest. Their eyes glowed bright. Brighter than the light of flames reflected within them. Each of their steps were akin to a distant rumbling of thunder. Each one threatening to split the ground asunder. "Run!" The Sun cried. "Meet them and slay them! Send these devils back to whatever hole they crawled out from!"

    The dauntless honor guard rallied behind their lord but were soon stopped in their tracks, as was The Sun himself. The beast women halted their charge. They stomped their feet. The very ground quaked with tremors, cracking in several spots. Burning Flames! They truly can split the ground!

    The winged women descended to the ground. They were few. They stretched out their hands and thick roots tore out of the soil, each one like the tentacles of an overgrown octopus. They lashed out at the honor guard, sending each flying. Armor bent. Joints twisted. Bones were broken. Three roots descended towards The Sun, each one more than capable of splitting his skull in two. His hands flashed. The Thousand Sun Sword went through the roots like a hot knife through butter. "Butter knife¡­" he muttered, "maybe it does work for a weapon. I wonder where it is."

    He had no time to ponder on such thoughts. The beastly women were charging straight at him. He grit his teeth and plunged his blade into the dirt. The hilt grew hot in his hands as the gold of the blade brightened in color. A brilliant light burst forth as if silent lightning had been called. The high pitched war cries had halted. The darkspawn women clutched their eyes in pain. "Now! Kill them while they''re blind!" The honor guard rose to their feet and ran forward. Bones that should have been shattered had mended. The Chronary runes upon their bodies kept them alive. Their entire lifespan had been bound to the current year, giving them one year to live but also granting them near immortality for that one year.

    The golden blade sank into thick flesh. There was more resistance than The Sun expected. The beast women''s skin could be likened to stone. But swing hard enough, and they could be cut. He severed many heads before him while his honor guard were three to each woman, their plain iron swords struggling to slice. The beast women flailed their arms around blindly, catching few unawares and sending them flying several dozen feet. They were not what worried The Sun. He searched for the winged ones. They''d retreated to the edge of the forest. A storm of leaves formed behind them as they waved their arms with careful precision. The Sun ignored them and continued to slaughter the blind beast women. He would need his honor guard to shield himself from the thousands of blade like leaves that were being prepared.

    He stared at the blood stained gold blade. In stories told, the brilliant flash of light the sword could produce was said to vanquish all darkspawn that it touched. "Perhaps your powers have dimmed. Or does the fault lie with me? Can I not bring out your true strength?"

    The scholar sighed at his own foolish words before exhaling a brief laugh with his mouth closed. The beast women had been fewer than a hundred. They were all dead now. Each wound left by the Thousand Sun Sword smoldered, creating charred lines of flesh that caused a repulsively sweet scent of cooking meats to flow out. The hilt was growing hot. Dark cloaked guards formed ranks behind their lord. "A dozen in front of me," the Lord Sun ordered. They did as they were told and then began marching forward once more.

    ***

    Everything had happened so quickly. Sar''tara inhaled through her mouth as her legs continued to move, the sound of each step pounding against her eardrums. She constantly wiped her blurring eyes. She didn''t want to look back, afraid that her Mother would be following.

    Sar''tara felt hollow. Nothing mattered anymore. She''d fulfilled her life''s purpose. Had proved herself enough to meet Ny''Danis again.

    But she''d killed her siblings to get there. She had robbed them of the same thing that she wanted then. A Mother''s love and the right to become the forest''s defender.

    And then what? Sar''tara had taken the Trials. Had succeeded in them, though their nature left a bitter taste in her mouth. The Trials took place on an alter plane. They had no bearing on the real world, except for the final Trial where she witnessed a memory. But it made her sick to know that she was capable of such dark things. Of killing baby animals. Of killing a man who had suffered a tragedy. And at the end, when expecting consolation from her Mother, Sar''tara had instead found a murderer who''d killed her dear sister.

    "Why?" she breathed in between gasps. Another rumble shook the ground and she tripped over her own feet. She pushed herself up, spitting out dirt from her mouth, eyes completely fogged. The smell of smoke entered her nostrils. Orange emanated from multiple parts of the forest.

    The forest is under attack, she recalled. Sar''tara finally cleared her tears away and looked around. She still had her home. Her sisters. A family that wouldn''t abandon or betray her. All of that was under threat. They needed to know. Needed protection. The Selharr had few adults left to protect the village. The girls would be scared. Sar''tara stood up, steeling her resolve. She checked her surroundings for her many mental landmarks to confirm her location before running towards the village. It would take a near full night''s worth of running to get there. She needed to return and fast.

    ***

    The few remaining defenders of the forest glared at their enemies. The gathering leaf storm behind them had tripled in size since The Sun had last seen. The nearby branches that had supplied them were left barren. The women outstretched their arms and every leaf, straight like small daggers, flew towards his group. He ducked low behind his guards. They formed a tight circle around him. The blade storm passed like a breeze. The armor and cloaks of the guards had been torn to shreds. All of them had dozens of cuts from where blood flowed. Wounds that all closed with the blink of an eye. The Sun wondered how many years of life had been shaved off of the guards with that attack alone. Their life force needed to last the night. Else the plan would fail.

    The winged women scowled as if confused by their enemy''s resilience. They took to the sky once more, beating their beautiful butterfly wings with blinding speed. Gusts of air pushed The Sun and his men backwards. They crouched low, enduring the heavy winds. Once the women ran out of stamina, the honor guard would triumph. Roots tore out of the ground again, soil spraying. The Sun pushed to the van, clearing a path for his men. His golden blade flashed, cutting through many tentacles and searing all that they touched with a hiss. The darkspawn, with little option remaining, descended. Their wings faded to dust, leaving them to look like ordinary women. They had been forced to exhaustion.

    The Sun rushed forward. The wind against his sprint made his white cloak billow in the air. Sword raised high, he bellowed. The women before him had drawn the spears that had been tied at their backs. His eyes had missed them. His attack was easily deflected and a spear tip aimed for his eye bit into his cheek as he dodged to the side.

    A single woman stared him down while six others went after his men. The Sun raised his sword, holding the gleaming blade before his own face, his reflection with in it distorted and blurry. The dancing light of flames from both in front and behind him only increased the majesty of the Divine Artifact. The woman before him took a stance, gripping the spear with both hands, each about six inches apart. A stance that he recognized. She was an expert with the weapon no doubt. His blade came down in a vertical arc. She shuffled her feet and twisted her arms in a swift move meant to deflect the sword and strike his temple. It proved futile before the Thousand Sun Sword. The blade burned the wooden shaft of the spear. It cut through as if being waved through wind and delivered a mortal wound to the woman.

    The Sun turned around. Near fifty guards and only six women. Six women that were going through each well trained guardsman like they were a group of children with no knowledge of combat. Every guard fell one by one. Then they all rose again, years of their lifespan shaved off. At that rate, their immortality would be eaten through before dawn even arrived.

    The Sun turned back and cut the women down from behind, his blade leaving burning wounds in each. The hilt was getting too hot to hold. His hand began to burn. One enemy remaining, The Sun decided to sheath his blade to let it cool off. The honor guard still struggled with the single enemy, the spear in her hand twirling around and striking vitals with careful precision as her bare feet delicately danced upon the grass. "You fools!" he barked. "You cannot die. Just kill her!"

    The shout expelled the fear that had gripped the soldiers. They finally charged in recklessly and held the woman down. She screamed aloud. Her cry halted as suddenly as it began. An iron blade was pulled out of her throat. Blood flowed from the open wound as the woman writhed on the ground. The red of it was visible in the dark as the light in the clear night sky shone upon it. Glowing flowers grew where it had spilled. Eventually, the woman came to stop moving altogether. Flowers littered the field alongside corpses.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The Sun stared down at the lifeless body. He knelt before her and tore her clothes apart.

    "Your Brilliance!" the honor guard gasped.

    "Silence!" He took out a small knife at his side. His fingers ran down the quickly cooling almond skin of the woman as he traced her center line. The knife in his other hand followed his finger as he made a surgical cut upon the body. Multiple precise cuts later, he split the body open, revealing all that lay inside. His guards turned away in disgust. Brutish men that could slaughter at a single command cringed at the sight of guts.

    Ironic as it was, even The Sun, with his wealth of knowledge in many subjects, was disgusted. He enjoyed the act no more than the next person. But he needed to confirm his suspicions. He carefully cut through delicate arteries and slowly pulled out a warm heart. He held it up to eye level, letting moonlight touch it. Carved into the heart were delicate Chronary runes.

    The Sun sighed at having read the runes, his suspicions confirmed. He placed the heart back where it belonged. He then wiped his stained hands on the grass, ridding himself of only some of the blood. He drew the Thousand Sun Sword once more and plunged it into the lifeless body. The corpse became ash in a matter of seconds. It would have been rude to leave the body there with its innards revealed.

    With the defenders now dead, the legions of the Astral Union pressed forth, entering the Papillion Forest. Only a few remained to gather everflowers. Flowers that never withered would fetch a high price, further funding the Union''s military exploits. The Sun and his honor guard entered the burning lush, heading for its center and racing against the spreading flames. "Ny''Danis¡­ You hypocrite," he whispered to none in particular.

    ***

    Sar''tara halted her run. The color of flames pierced the darkness of the forest. The light came from the direction of the M?khain village. Sar''tara clenched her teeth. She looked towards her target destination, the Selharr village. And then back at the burning M?khain village.

    They were all her siblings.

    She wouldn''t abandon them while they struggled. Not when she could see their plight with her own two eyes. She wouldn''t leave them to fend for themselves just as Ny''Danis had left her daughters. Sar''tara turned towards the M?khain village, bow and arrow in hand.

    A sudden scream stole her attention. A spear bearing woman jumped out of a tree and stabbed towards her. Sar''tara dodged to her side, barely avoiding the attack. She drew back her bowstring but paused upon seeing her assailer. A M?khain sister.

    "What are you doing here Selharri?" the woman growled, crouching low and aiming her spear in a threatening manner.

    "The fire. I was returning from Mother''s¡ª" even saying the word felt bitter, "from Mother''s grove. She said the forest is under attack. I''m here to help."

    The M?khain huntress spat. She looked towards her own village, eyebrows pressed together and hand tightening around her spear. "You need to leave," she hissed as she began walking away.

    Sar''tara grabbed the woman''s arm. "And leave while your village burns? We are all sisters! Where are the enemies?"

    "These aren''t mere iron clad soldiers, Selharri!" the woman cried. "Our village is in ruins! The M?khain are all but dead. There is nothing to help with. They''ve focused their attention on the center of the forest. Go. Call for aid. You must still have Sister Stel''Na in your village. We need the strength of established Guardians. I don''t know if even Mother will be able to fight against these armored men."

    In ruins? Already? And to defend the center of the forest? To defend her Mother''s grove when¡­ No. The nymphs were there. The young daughters were there too. It needed to be protected. "Then I''ll come with you to Mother''s home." Stel''Na still had the power of a Guardian. She would be capable of defending the Selharr. Sar''tara changed her priority to her infant siblings. She couldn''t leave them to her Mother. Ny''Danis couldn''t be trusted.

    The M?khain huntress grabbed Sar''tara and pulled her in close. "The strength of Guardians is similar to that of our Mother herself. We had three former Guardians in our village. They''re dead now, killed by men unafraid to die in exchange. Hurry and¡ª" the woman was cut off. She gasped as she clutched her side. A small bolt was stuck there. An arrow of sorts, too small to be fired from a regular bow. "Run!" she gasped.

    Sar''tara turned around. She spotted two armor clad men in the forest. They held a strange device in their hands. A bow of sorts by its look. They weren''t drawing back but fiddling with its strange mechanics. She glared at them, drawing back her bowstring to her chin in a swift movement. A bolt zipped past her, cutting through her bowstring and splitting open the skin on her arm before being firmly embedded into the bark of an oak tree. Sar''tara stared mouth agape at her now useless weapon.

    The M?khain huntress stood up with the aid of her spear. She cried as she ripped the bolt out from her side. Blood gushed out as if it were a fountain. "Run!" she roared. "I''ll grab their attention. Go! Go get Stel''Na!"

    Sar''tara didn''t listen. She reached for a knife, bending her knees and baring her teeth at the assailers. Her sister pushed her out of the way just as another bolt pierced the air between them.

    "Go!" the M?khain woman screamed again.

    Sar''tara looked from her sister to the attackers. Abandon her? Abandon her for others just as Mother proclaimed? Sar''tara finally began to run in the opposite direction, shedding tears. She was doing exactly what she didn''t want to do. Exactly what Ny''Danis had done. Running from the problem, convincing herself that it was necessary. Was this the burden her Mother had to bear?

    Sar''tara wanted to scream. She needed a moment''s respite. Events had occurred before she had time to consider their effects. The war with the Kreiva, the Guardian Trials, her Mother''s murder, and now, an attack from outside.

    It was sheer luck that caused Sar''tara to trip and fall just as another bolt flew past the top of her head. Her single braid rose to the air and then thumped her back as she touched the ground. She still held her useless bow in hand. She dropped it and drew her knives as she stood back up. The sound of running water entered her ears. A river was near. The M?khain huntress lay dead a few dozen feet away. More and more armor clad soldiers were coming out from behind trees. They walked in groups of ten with one holding a torch in hand. Their breastplates had the image of a sun engraved upon it. Some within the groups ¡ªthe apparent leaders¡ª wore deep blue capes with white specks. It reminded Sar''tara of a clear night sky. She backed off as they approached closer.

    There were too many for her to take on. This was nothing like facing the many ghastly soldiers within one of her Trials. These men moved faster, could see her, and also had ranged weapons. One of the men held up the strange bow like device again. Sar''tara lunged behind a nearby thicket, recognizing the item to shoot deadly arrows without needing any kind of string to be drawn back.

    Multiple bolts flew past. There were hidden soldiers that she hadn''t seen firing at her as well. Bolts stuck into bark and dirt. She darted from tree to tree, reducing the timing with which the soldiers could aim. Her lungs begged for a break. Pride screamed at her to turn and fight. To kill those that dared to invade. But she didn''t have time to turn around.

    The bolts eventually stopped. Sar''tara thought it a bait to lure her out. She continued her pattern of movement, moving from shadow to shadow. This was the one time she wished that glowing flowers wouldn''t bloom. They provided too much light. Got rid of too many shadows.

    Heavy footsteps closed in from behind. Sar''tara clenched her teeth and exhaled through them. The ranged soldiers had stopped firing to let the melee ones close in. Swords were unsheathed, the ringing sounds of iron hanging in the air like a warner''s wail. Sar''tara broke into a full on sprint, not caring to glance back.

    "Kill her!" voices called one after another, as if echoing the first.

    The steadily drumming sounds of the armor clad soldiers reminded her of the marching Kreiva. Sar''tara felt her muscles tense up. The joints in her arms began to stiffen and cold sweat upon her skin clashed with air. She was already exhausted from the Trials. Her fear would slow her down even further. But she was still faster than her assailers who were burdened down by all the iron they wore around themselves.

    Sar''tara knew the Papillion Forest like she knew the back of her hands. She was far more nimble as well, moving on her bare feet. The sounds of her enemies softened with the passage of time. Her breathing became laboured and her empty stomach cried out for something to eat. Even if she had something, she wouldn''t dare eat it in fear of getting cramps while running. But a bit of water wouldn¡¯t hurt. The sounds of the river had faded. She had unknowingly strayed too far. Sar''tara swallowed the mucus gathering at the back of her throat if only to wet it for a moment. She paused to catch her breath. Torch fires of her enemies were still visible behind her. But she had run far enough to avoid being seen for the time.

    She once again checked her surroundings. She marked a rosebush full of thorns. They were in full bloom. Though, with the fading period nearing its end and evernight soon to come, they would wither away in a cycle or two.

    Just like this forest¡­

    "No!" Sar''tara couldn''t push away the grim thoughts. She was running as if everything was already over. As if the Vashiri were doomed to die. "Mother will protect us. She will win and¡­" And what? Go back to murdering her own daughters after that? The M?khain were already felled. Ny''Danis didn''t really care¡­ "I don''t expect you to understand me," Sar''tara repeated. "Nor take my words to be enough¡­" She buried her head in her hands and wept. Why? Why am I placing my faith in you again? Why am I depending on you again? Sar''tara''s chest felt as if it were being compressed from all sides. Why do I still love you, Mother?

    She wiped her tears, checking the rosebush through blurry eyes. She set herself to a light jog towards the Selharr village. A river would greet her along the way. The vast majority of enemies, she assumed, would be attacking her Mother''s grove. It would be well into morning before she reached her home. After that, her sisters, including the younger ones, would need to be rallied and forced to head towards the center to defend their Mother''s grove. An estimated two day trip if they paced themselves well. Things could very well be over by then. Sar''tara hoped it to be over by then. Hoped Ny''Danis to have already won.

    All her hopes sank as she noticed what lay ahead of her. Her feet came to a slowing halt. The exhaustion and nauseating feeling that came from a lack of sleep hit her in a torrent. She fell to her knees, clutching her throat. Sar''tara didn¡¯t fear for her own safety. Nor did she fear death. She feared the loss of her home. The loss of everything she knew. It was the same fear she''d felt when she was seven and thrust into a new environment. Except this time, it would be different. This time, she wouldn''t have any sisters that would welcome her wholeheartedly. This time, she''d be surrounded by unknown people in a vast and unknown world. That was, if she survived the plains dweller''s assault.

    No matter where she looked, her eyes only saw the glowing orange lights of torches. The soldiers numbered too many. She was surrounded. There was no way out but to fight.

    And win.

 Chapter 18: What was that word?

    <u>Chapter 18 - What was that Word?</u>

    The first Stel''Na felt was a quaking of the ground beneath her. It was a Guardian''s purpose to prevent such an occurrence. But that didn¡¯t change the fact that it had happened. It didn¡¯t change the fact that they were here. Outsiders deep inside the Papillion Forest. They had lit the trees on fire. It was the middle of the night. No one could have predicted it. No one was prepared.

    Stel''Na and the three remaining adult huntresses rushed outside. The young girls were already awake. They were armed, but frightened. At the least they weren''t panicking. Most stared at the fires in confusion, wondering how they''d come about, oblivious to the dangers they represented. Some looked to the adults to decide the next course of action. They would be no use in a fight if the battle with the Kreiva had been any indication. The village''s numbers had also been thinned significantly. Stel''Na''s worst fears had come to pass.

    The fires were spreading. They had already reached the back of the village. Plants in the garden were turning black. A single stray ember blown by the wind was all it would take to light the huts ablaze.

    "Out! All of you!" Stel''Na ordered. As a former Guardian, she was the only one with experience in fighting plains dwellers. The only one with power enough to drive back their forces. But their numbers and location were unknown to her. The last known occurrence of a large invasion had been long before she''d been born. "Run into the forest as hard as you can. Don''t stay together. Scatter around and hide yourselves within trees or bushes. Your priority is to survive! We are under attack from outsiders. Do not, under any circumstance, attack the enemy unless you are certain that they are alone and that you can win. Go! Now! They are near!"

    Everyone ran off into the forest without need of a second command. Stel''Na felt a fury grow within her. It was unlikely that the girls would survive the night. If soldiers didn''t find them first, the spreading flames would likely catch them before they reached safety. The smallest was especially at risk. She watched Tavi''s tiny form scurry along, trying to keep up with the others. She was new and untrained. She didn''t yet possess the same stamina as the others. Though the girl had grown in bravery since the battle against the Kreiva, she would likely disobey the order to scatter. Stel''Na feared for her fate. Outsiders were known to take captives to use as labor or other things.

    She glanced back at the flames one last time. Their light reflected in her eyes. The huntress within her was reborn. She turned to follow her sisters.

    Her few seconds of delay were what saved her life.

    For all her experience, Stel''Na failed to see past a simple bait. She regretted having given her orders so quickly. Every remaining Selharr stepped outside the fenced area of the village. Stel''Na saw her own movements in slow; her hand outstretched, her mouth hanging open, and a warning shout at the edge of her lips.

    It didn¡¯t come out in time.

    The fires had been used to smoke out the women and girls. The moment they stepped outside the village, all of them had been punctured by many bolts from the crossbows used by soldiers of the plains. They were already lying in wait. "Wait! Don''t leave!" the eldest sister cried, the words finally leaving her mouth. Tavi was the only one unharmed. But her tiny legs were carrying her into a waiting line of enemies. Two adults still breathed, though they were on their knees and not long for the world. In that very instant, Stel''Na was left alone. And she felt it.

    The last remaining Selharr capable of fighting.

    There was a rising heat behind her. The fires had reached the village. The heat within Stel''Na''s heart was much greater. Her eyes burned with a rage she''d never felt before. She grasped at the full extent of power that she''d only ever touched in her time as a Guardian. Her black and grey hair turned bright in color. The veins in her neck bulged. They glowed a pale silver, just like the smoke veiled moons in the sky. She growled as her back split open and multicolored butterfly wings sprouted out from behind them. Had an unaware sister been passing by at that moment, they would have called Stel''Na their Mother.

    The true power of a Guardian was manifested. Everything was clearer than it had ever been. Stel''Na could sense the very life of everything around her. All of the trees. The plants. The insects. Each and every blade of grass. She could feel their emotions. See their lifespan. Hear their fearful cries as the fires spread. Stel''Na could also see the locations of her enemies. They gave alarmed shouts, pointing in her direction. Multiple soldiers rushed in towards her. Time seemed to slow as they approached.

    Stel''Na took note of their armor. Iron plates with a sun engraved upon them. Cloaks like that of the night sky. They were soldiers of the Astral Union. They had come sniffing a few times during her tenure as a Guardian. But they had never tried attacking. Not until today. They were after the Divine Artifacts in Ny''Danis'' possession. Stel''Na had seen them before. Among them there was a spear-like weapon and some manner of armor that prevented mortal wounds. There were also things capable of controlling another''s actions. Artifacts were said to have been created for the betterment of humans. But to Stel''Na, it seemed that their powers were too readily abused by anyone with even the slightest intent to cause harm.

    She closed her eyes. Hear me, oh creatures of this forest. Hear me and obey, so that we still have a home come dawn.

    All attention was turned towards her. The fear she''d felt within the flora and fauna had turned into confidence. They all looked to her for guidance and safety. We hear and obey, Daughter of the Forest. Use us if you must.

    Stel''Na opened her eyes. Her enemies had barely taken a step in that instant of conversation. She rose from the ground and violently flapped her wings. A gust of wind blew forth, knocking everyone off of their feet and simultaneously spreading the flames. Stel''Na growled at her own stupidity. Using wind was out of the question. She commanded every insect within her range of senses to assault any enemy it saw. They would only work as a minor distraction. The insects of the Papillion Forest were not particularly dangerous or poisonous.

    The ironclad soldiers stood up once more. They rushed in wildly, howling at the top of their lungs, their attacks completely void of strategy. They were suicidal attacks. The soldiers were smart enough to realize that they would die to the flames surrounding them if they weren''t killed first. They planned to take Stel''Na down with them. She met their charge with her own, her speed unfathomable to the human eye. Bone knives flashed as they went through throats with ease. Still, there were too many to kill by hand.

    Stel''Na was finding it hard to breathe. Thickening smoke began enveloping the village. Some of the soldiers were coughing as they ran. Stel''Na stretched out her hands. The elm trees around the village shook violently. The very ground beneath them trembled. Thick dark roots came ripping out of the soil. Uprooted, the trees were destined to die. They gave their life willingly to the Guardian rather than be turned to ash. Stel''Na felt their resolve within her blood. It resonated with her own. Some were already burning. To die a martyr would be a point of honor for the trees.

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    Stel''Na commanded the tree roots to bind enemies and crush them in their grip. The trees obeyed. They moved as if their roots were limbs. Charging enemies were tripped and then thrown into the air. Blades of grass and leaves that were not yet black dust ripped themselves from the ground and from branches. Stel''Na created spiraling gusts of wind that caused the leaves to tear apart bound enemies like a storm of razors. The usage of wind mattered little now. The fire had already spread beyond control.

    Men screamed as their flesh was torn apart and their bones were squeezed and ground to dust. Stel''Na revelled in the carnage unfolding before her. Such was the fate of those that dared to invade the Papillion Forest with ill intent. Stel''Na gasped as searing pain spread along her newly grown wings. She turned to find more enemies behind her. Of course. They had surrounded the village. They weren''t in just one direction.

    She took her distance from the dozens of newcomers, their armor blackened with soot and some of them with burns upon their skin. They''d come straight through the fires. They ran after her, but her speed could not be matched. Some of them ran between the burning huts with little care. The huts crumbled and hot wood fell upon their shoulders, their agonizing cries creating pockets in the thickening haze. Stel''Na knew her priorities were to find any surviving Vashiri and to head to the center of the grove to defend Ny''Danis. She glanced back at the fallen Selharr. Those still alive now lay on the ground. Barely a hint of life could be sensed from them, their hearts weakening with each passing second.

    Stel''Na turned back to her enemies, her vision still clear despite the tears in her eyes. She had dallied too long in her rage. Tavi might still be alive somewhere, crying. The enemies around Stel''Na would burn regardless. Survivors could be found and killed later. She took flight once more, her lungs desperate for clean air. She flip flopped around, her balance irregular. The newly made cuts in her wings had robbed her of her ability of flight. She cursed as she was forced to inhale a large plume of smoke. Her lungs rejected it, forcing her into a violent coughing fit and dropping her to the ground. She fell on her back, her delicate wings crumpling under her weight. Stel''Na cried out in pain.

    Her powers of a Guardian began to fade. She was losing her ability to sense the forest''s life. Either that, or everything around her was already dead. She rolled to her front, glaring at the soldiers as her fingers curled around the handles of her knives. She slowly pushed herself up. The soldiers, having seen her on the ground, came after her once more. She wondered what drove them. It couldn''t be greed. They knew they would perish. She wondered if it was a sense of duty. Or if it was zealotry. They were the invaders. They were the looters. "What manner of lies have your leaders told you!" she screamed.

    Knives in hand, Stel''Na met her enemies in the haze and heat covered battlefield. Despite her age, the soldiers were weaker than her. She was a huntress. A Vashiri. A woman who''d survived on primal instinct for most of her life. She was also a survivor of the Guardian Trials. Her martial skills were not unparalleled when compared to plains dweller experts. But the soldiers before her were far from the best. Her attack patterns were unexpected and mimicked animal movements more than humans. The ironclad soldiers had also been weakened by the smoke just as Stel''Na had. But the weight of their armor served to slow them even further. The heat being absorbed by their iron shells was roasting them from the inside. Pain unbearable, some finally collapsed and cried.

    Stel''Na dispatched her enemies with ease, dodging their blows and slashing them where they least expected it. She kept low to the ground, knowing smoke to rise. The limited air on the ground was cleaner, though just barely. Her lungs still burned. She pounced like a panther coming upon its prey when she saw boots before her in the smoke. It reminded her of one of the Guardian Trials. She was hunting enemies in the fog. Few that saw her tried to prepare. But their reactions were slow. They soon found bone knives stabbing into their necks or eyes.

    The last remaining foes were the squad leaders. Those wearing the night sky cloaks. To Stel''Na''s surprise, they lay low, covering their faces with their cloaks. They rolled back and rose to a ready position when they noticed the crouching huntress emerging from the haze. Three, Stel''Na counted. They circled around her, as if hunting a rabid dog. She didn¡¯t allow them to fully surround her. She snarled as she lunged towards one, spinning to dodge a vertical slash by a hair''s breadth. The man instantly spun as well, not letting himself get caught off guard. Stel''Na went down in a squat and stuck her knife in his knee joint, forcing him down to her level. Her free hand knife then found his neck.

    Another man thrust towards her with the point of his sword. She tried leaping back. She slipped on the blood slick ground and fell on her rear instead. The tip of the sword pierced through the muscles in her shoulder. Searing pain spread out from the point of impact. Stel''Na ignored it. It was not hotter than her current environment. She was, she realized, drenched in sweat. Just as her foes likely were as well. The man tried skewering her completely, thrusting harder with his longsword. Stel''Na fell flat on her back and rolled away, disappearing into the fog. She reappeared behind a cautious enemy, executing them before they could mount an effective resistance.

    She found herself back on her knees again shortly after, coughing violently. Her blood had been completely poisoned by the smoke. There no longer was a way out. Her last adversary came into her field of vision, the tip of his blade red with her blood. He was also weak. He was holding his coughs in, grunting with each breath as his mouth remained shut. His sword came from the side, threatening to separate her head from her body in a clean swing. With a final act of defiance, Stel''Na raised her arm and hit the flat end of the sword before the sharp edge reached her. It arced towards the ground and got stuck in the dirt, the weight of the blade pulling its weakened owner a half step forward.

    Stel''Na dropped the knife in her left hand. She gripped the blade of the sword and roared as she used it as a support to pull herself closer to the man, uncaring for the cuts upon her hand. He had a look of surprise as her face closed in on his. Their foreheads collided. Stel''Na stuck the knife in her right hand into his side. She watched as his expression turned from shock to pain. To then fear. She snarled and twisted the knife. Her heart slowed. No clean blood remained for it to pump.

    The man''s lips finally parted. He coughed out what he''d been holding back, spraying blood onto her face. She pulled the knife out and then stuck it back in slightly higher than last time. He gasped and tried backing away. Stel''Na gripped his hair with her bloodied left hand and held him in place. She stabbed his side repeatedly until he no longer made any reactions. His consciousness was fading. She held him to her breasts and plunged the knife in his back. He gasped once more. She pushed him away to get one last satisfactory look at his expression.

    He fell on his rear and slowly backed away from her, trembling. "That''s right," Stel''Na said, her voice beyond rasped. "Run. Flee like the coward that you are. You are already dead. Die knowing that you were felled by Stel''Na Vashiri. Die with that expression of fear!" She marched towards him. She pressed a firm foot on his chest, forcing him flat on his back and causing the knife embedded there to dig in deeper. His expression made it seem as if he were begging for mercy. He would get none. They had set the forest on fire. Stel''Na had not an ounce of remorse for him. She leaned in, putting more weight on her foot. "What was that word you plains dwellers call your inferiors? Ah, yes. I remember. Bitch. Die like the bitch that you are," she said. She stomped on the breastplate until her foe no longer moved.

    Stel''Na stepped away from him. She staggered towards the edge of the village. There was no strength left in her. All of her organs ached terribly, her lungs most of all. Blurring eyes scanned the glowing darkness for a little girl. Tavi was nowhere to be seen.

    Stel''Na placed a hand on her chest. She could not even feel her own heartbeat. She stopped moving and looked up at the night sky. It was covered by thick smoke. Fuzzy orange light was the last thing she saw. Tears rolled down the sides of her face. Stel''Na stood tall. She puffed out her chest. Her consciousness slowly drifted away and the world around her became dark. Her cracked lips held a slight gap. A faint and hollow smile touched them. Forgive me Mother. I did my best. I will pray for your victory from the afterlife.

    Life slipped out of her from the gap between her lips. She died with a heart full of pride. The pride of a Guardian and a warrior. A Daughter of the Forest. Stel''Na Vashiri passed on whilst standing upright with her head held high.

 Chapter 19: The Past

    <u>Chapter 19 - The Past</u>

    Ny''Danis reached out to all nearby life save for her daughters. She could feel stinging pains beneath her skin as her home burnt down. Every tree near to the grove was uprooted. The land around them deformed. Each tree crawled closer to the forest''s center and formed a thick wall surrounding the grove under Ny''Danis'' command. She gasped and clutched her chest. The deaths of the Vashiri felt as if heartstrings were being torn. The forest belonged to her. Every creature within it belonged to her. She had nurtured it and allowed it all to thrive for thousands of years. Now, it was all disintegrating into black dust. The flames could not be extinguished. Come dawn, everything will have been lost. She would have to start over from the very beginning.

    But her Guardians, even the ones with her true powers, had already perished. The villages had been ruined. The plains dwellers possessed a weapon that could challenge a Goddess.

    Ny''Danis had been entrusted with protecting the Divine Artifacts. For millennia, she had faithfully carried her task. The world outside was to be watched by the Flame Bearers. But they''d slipped up again. Another invasion was occurring. And this one was far more devastating than the last attempt.

    Ny''Danis had lost everything dear to her once before. All of her siblings the lesser deities, her friends, even whole forests that she''d grown alongside other humans. Though it had happened such a long time ago, the memory of her heart tearing in two still remained as clear as crystal daylight. She was reminded of it each time a daughter died.

    She had subjected her daughters to a cruel fate. All to strengthen the forest and avoid losing everything at once. Yet, everything she loved now lay on the verge of disappearance. All of her daughters. All of the trees. All of the flowers, nymphs, animals, insects. All of it had a home in her heart. A heart which was slowly being ripped in half again. The very thought made Ny''Danis shudder to her core. Made a deity afraid.

    Once, she''d lost everything because of a lack in conviction. Now she was on the verge of losing everything again because of too much conviction. She''d been forceful and unrelenting in her ways of educating her daughters, convincing herself that it was necessary. She had lost herself in doubt and didn''t even question the approaching invasion when she''d sensed it. And worst of all, she allowed her daughters to kill each other, reducing the forest''s numbers.

    I killed Kiali before Sar''tara¡­

    Many variations of her life raced through her mind. Many ''what ifs''. She wondered what life would have been like had she not secluded herself, had she not created such trials and competitions to test her daughters. But more, she thought of her daughters. Every trial and aspect of competition was supposed to have weeded out those unfit to be Guardians. But what if... what if she''d simply taught her daughters to use their abilities? What if the failures could have just lived different lives?

    Had failing ever been a justification for death? For Ny''Danis herself to kill that which she loved?

    Ny''Danis looked to her palms. Looked upon their pale, bloodless hue. Her fingers trembled as the depth of her errors dawned upon her. She shut her eyes against the welling tears, seeing in her mind her cold as ice hands bathed in the scarlet shade of her daughters'' stolen lives.

    What if she''d never sent her daughters away, and instead loved them for their whole lives as human mothers were known to do?

    A final question to haunt her thoughts as the lord of all others. So many questions. So many possibilities. And among them, too many mistakes. It was now that Ny''Danis realized this. Now, when she was backed into a corner now with a single path left to her: To destroy the vicious invaders who came to steal that which Ny''Danis had never truly protected.

    The nymphs in the grove scurried about, crying to each other while orange lights grew. Their precious faces were wrought with fear and their round dark eyes were on the verge of tears. Their mutters and whispers were a growing chain of echoes, each nymph repeating the last''s words with an added one of their own.

    Ny''Danis touched their minds and ordered them to stand resolute. Their magic was slight. Dryads could only command leaves and naiads could only command water. Ny''Danis feared for them. Feared the possibilities of them being taken captive. She used that fear to further fuel her anger. Her home was being invaded by humans. Mere humans. They dared to attack a Goddess and her offspring. They would pay for it dearly. She would make certain of it.

    And yet, tendrils of doubt weaved themselves into her anger.

    Doubt of this mysterious weapon that had felled her Guardians. Doubt that brought with it fear for her own life. Those who wielded her powers had already been defeated. The retired Guardians were dead also. And each Kreivan Guardian carried the strength of a hundred men. Yet all of them had already been slain.

    Ny''Danis felt the soldiers approaching the grove. She focused her attention on the vibrations made with their footsteps. Their location was made apparent to her. Tree roots lashed out, spraying dirt in every direction. They struck down most enemies. One remained, hacking and slashing. Each cut burned the roots. He held an Artifact, she realized. Of all the weapons amongst the Divine Artifacts, only one had the ability to burn its foes; the Thousand Sun Sword.

    To her surprise, the previously felled soldiers stood back up. The wounds inflicted upon them should have been fatal. Yet, Ny''Danis felt no irregularities in their movements. They moved as if they hadn''t suffered at all. Their leader tore into the tree wall until at last, her own eyes saw the glowing embers of burning wood as a blade of gold opened a path into her sanctuary. A man wearing a gold mask and a white cloak forced his way through. His followers poured in soon after, their armor damaged and bent out of shape, yet their bodies wholly intact.

    Ny''Danis clenched her fists. Men that should be dead and yet weren''t. Only one Artifact had that kind of power and it was in her possession. That left one option. Chronary. Chronary had fallen into the wrong hands. Humans without knowledge of how terrible it could be, the monsters it could create, and the calamities it could bring. It was a much more dangerous tool than the Artifacts ever could be. Its uses were endless, so long as the necessary sacrifice was provided. It was something else that should have been protected and kept hidden by the Flame Bearers. Just as the Thousand Sun Sword¡­

    It couldn''t be¡­ Had High House Zz''tai betrayed?

    Nymphs cried and scrambled, retreating to the trunk of Lorian, hoping for their Mother to save them. Some lashed out with their powers, slapping enemies with leaves or splashing them with water. Anger consumed Ny''Danis. Blades of grass ripped themselves from the ground. Their tips were pointed at the soldiers. She stretched out a hand and commanded the thousands of needles to pierce through each enemy.

    The soldiers surrounded their leader at his command and took the brunt of the lethal attack. Each one was riddled with holes. Then, each and every hole closed itself and men that should''ve died stood up once more. Ny''Danis saw it then. Bodies riddled with runic letters of the ancient language. The language of sacrifice. She knew now how her Guardians had been defeated. They''d been forced to exhaustion, using their strength against immortals. Then likely surrounded and beaten.

    Ny''Danis took to the air. She beckoned to her final weapon, Lorian. The sapling that she had planted herself when the world was made. The sapling that she had watched grow. Nurtured. Loved. The world beneath rumbled. An earthquake had begun.

    The man in white plunged the gold sword into the ground. It brightened in color and a brilliant light burst from it. Ny''Danis shielded her eyes. A high pitched shriek escaped her lips. Fire had been sent underground. Lorian''s roots had been turned to ash in mere seconds. "NO!"

    The first life she had ever cared for. The one that had been with her from the very beginning. Lorian now stood at the edge of death. What if¡­?

    Ny''Danis descended. Her will to fight back was on the verge of shattering. Lorian''s leaves were the last weapons remaining to her. But what did it matter? Her enemies couldn''t be killed. She collapsed to her knees, head buried in hands. The nymphs surrounded her. Comforted her. Urged her to fight on. "How?" she countered back. They then cried and begged, black gemstone eyes with salt water pouring out. Most Vashiri had already been slain. The nymphs were all that remained.

    The man in white approached, his men at his heels like obedient hounds, their blades drawn. The nymphs had their backs pressed to the trunk of the dying mother tree. Ny''Danis looked up. Thought to plead. Perhaps her daughters could be spared if she gave the Artifacts up.

    But she couldn''t give them up. It was her duty to protect them.

    The man in white came to a stop. The ash colored hair poking out from beneath his masked helmet tickled an ancient memory. Ny''Danis'' eyes slowly went wide. "You¡­ No¡­ You''re supposed to be dead." Chronary hadn''t fallen into the wrong hands. It was still in the wrong hands. In the hands of the evil that had created it. That same evil now held the Thousand Sun Sword. And now, with the lesser deities gone, with the Flame Bearers'' possible betrayal or defeat¡­ The Shadow Walkers were scattered and few. The Vampires secluded themselves to a small mountainous region. None remained to challenge the use of Chronary. To challenge the evil thought vanquished.

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    "Where are the Artifacts, darkspawn witch?" the man said. "Or should I say¡­"

    He didn''t speak the last word. But his lips moved, speaking clearly. Mother, they had said. Ny''Danis grit her teeth. This treacherous, murderous, beast was no child of hers. The leaves of Lorian shuddered. There was a chance. Slight. But still a chance. If she could trap the immortal soldiers in a razor storm of leaves, she might be capable of eating away their immortality¡­

    ***

    The Sun flexed his fingers. His palm had been seared. Heat emanated from the hilt at his waist as if he were standing too close to a freshly lit hearth. He would have slain the foul female monsters before him right then had the blade still been wieldable. His honor guard stood idle, waiting for his command.

    The creatures were backed up against the tree, eyes glinting with crystal liquid. Some clutched the dress of the white haired woman. They were afraid. Had they posed a threat, they''d have attacked already.

    The Sun held back on the order. His eyes met a pair of multi-chromatic ones. "Where are they?" he asked again.

    "Why? How did it come to this?" Ny''Danis asked through her teeth. "How are you alive? And the Thousand Sun Sword. It belonged to the Flame Bearers. Why have they turned against us?"

    The Sun grunted. "So you admit to having been allied with that vile imperial family? The Flame Bearers were ruined and exiled centuries ago. Their descendants are few and scattered. Soon, none will exist. I will make sure of it."

    "Drop the act!" Ny''Danis cried. "Tell me how the Zz''tai fell. Did you kill them?"

    The honor guard whispered behind The Sun, likely bewildered by the statements of the Forest Deity. "This is no act. This is who I am." He leaned in. "Who I am now anyway," he whispered. "High House Zz''tai, like I said, perished centuries ago. How could I possibly have anything to do with that? Or is it a feeling of loss for your fellow darkspawn that has you delirious? To express such desires before the presence of The Lord Sun. You are bold, witch. I''ll give you that. Your sins have been judged. Your crimes will go punished. I will execute you myself! Now, where are the Artifacts the Zz''tai have given you?"

    Ny''Danis stood tall, her multi-chromatic eyes changing into a deep shade of orange. "Don''t you dare accuse me of being a darkspawn when¡ª"

    "What now? Will you plead your case?" The Sun asked, waving his hand.

    Ny''Danis'' face twisted in rage. "You accuse me, a deity, of evil when you use the language of sacrifice? How dare you! How many years of their lives have your men given to survive such lethal attacks? Do they know that their lives have been shortened probably tenfold or more?"

    Heavy winds circled the grove. The branches of Lorian shook. The Sun looked up at the tree''s leaves. Ny''Danis still had a weapon available to her. The sword at his waist had cooled a reasonable amount. The moment she channeled her power, she would die.

    "Of course," The Sun said. "Hypocrisy. Such behaviour seems to be a common quality of the Tortured Throne''s servants. I use Chronary to achieve an ends. To hunt down the enemies of truth. These men are more than willing to lay their life down to bring about peace! What of you? You, a false god, would dare tread the path of the divine? The women of this forest, the ones calling themselves your blood daughters, you made them through Chronary, did you not? You birthed these women without the presence of a man. I split one open and saw her heart. You create life bearing souls through the sacrifice of others! Tell me, witch, did you keep count of how many you killed to create your so called daughters? The secrets to immortality that only the Blood Mage had uncovered. A secret clearly known to you as well! Did you keep count of how many you killed to extend your own lifespan?"

    "I created them through myself!" Ny''Danis protested. "I am a Goddess of Illusterra! An immortal being! I split my own soul into fragments to give birth to my daughters. Those fragments return to me upon their death! Do not compare me to yourself! Chronary cannot be used by mortals. You spit on the gift of the Creator by throwing away your own lifespan!"

    "Lies!" The Sun roared, impressed by his own performance. He drew his blade for a more dramatic effect. "I will not fall for your nonsense! Tell me where the Artifacts are hidden and I will make your death painless!"

    The false deity refused to give in. As expected, wings sprouted from her back again. She jumped up, anger oozing from her body, her height towering over all. The Sun plunged his blade into Ny''Danis'' heart before she could take flight, thrusting hard and pinning her against the bark of the massive tree behind her. She gasped as she spat blood.

    "Then die while your insides burn!" The Sun sneered. He leaned in for a final whispered word. "I was never the traitor, Mother. You were. Slaughter these creatures!" he ordered, turning back to his honor guard.

    Nymphs cried and ran in different directions. Some held on to the legs of their Mother. Each one was cut down from behind. The blue skinned ones turned to water upon death whilst the green ones became soil. They weren''t blood daughters, unfortunately.

    Ny''Danis raised a shaky hand, commanding the leaves of Lorian to rain down upon the honor guard. They struck nymphs and men indiscriminately, Ny''Danis'' control over her powers weakening with every breath she took.

    The Sun finally pulled his blade out from where it was buried. The blood upon it sizzled. The rain of leaves stopped. The tall silver haired witch collapsed to the ground, unmoving. He clicked his tongue and walked past her. The Thousand Sun Sword could absorb the powers of other creatures that it''d slain. He tested the blade as the records stated, swinging it and willing for the power of the deity to burst forth. Nothing happened. None of Ny''Danis'' powers had been taken. Nor that of her ''daughters''. Was it because a deity''s powers couldn''t be absorbed? "A shame," he muttered.

    He pressed his free hand against the bark of the great tree towering over him. Its branches and leaves covered half of the grove. "The tree bore no sins. Yet it was forced to perish. Just as this entire forest. For the greater cause." He sheathed his blade and searched around the grove for the magical Artifacts. His eyes scanned the ground. He assumed them buried. The ground was a wreck. The great tree''s roots had split it apart in many places before he had managed to burn them. The Artifacts couldn''t be buried. Ny''Danis wouldn''t risk them being damaged.

    The Sun circled around the great tree. Conveniently, the back held an archway leading inside. Glowing flowers illuminated the tree''s insides with a dim but majestic light. All that he had been seeking lay right before his eyes. He recognized each and every item from old history books. Artifacts from the divine gifted to humanity as a test of their morality, will, and intellect.

    Among the Artifacts within the great tree there was Woodland Beginning; a wooden spear that was as sharp as any iron weapon. Striking ground would cause saplings to sprout. A tool that could create forests. A weapon Ny''Danis should have used herself but didn''t. Odd.

    The Renewal; a golden breastplate that could heal any wounds inflicted upon its wearer save for mortal wounds. It was a pair with the Thousand Sun Sword. The Sun now had both in his grasp. His immortal soldiers wouldn''t be necessary with The Renewal.

    The Lineage Mirror; an intricately designed mirror. Its beautiful frame was made of silver. At the very bottom was a tiny cup. Place a drop of blood inside, and the mirror would reveal the descendants of the blood''s bearer and all of their current locations. A useful tool that could be used to hunt down remnants of the Flame Bearers or Shadow Walkers.

    Then there was the Crown of Control; a crown of silver with violet gems embedded within. An object once used to control the rebellious and violent leaders of nations to maintain peace. The crown had to be worn willingly ¡ªan easy task when given under the guise of a gift. With it, there came a silver ring with a similar violet gem. A ring wearer had absolute control over the wearer of the crown. To The Sun''s surprise, there were two crowns and rings. These were the true prize. These could be used to conquer Xenaria. Perhaps even more¡­

    The Sun exited the great tree. Some of his honor guard were still chasing down the blue and green skinned girls. The guards moved as if they were starved vagabonds. Some of them breathed heavily. Their faces had aged decades. Their lifespans were nearing the end.

    The Sun sighed, shaking his head. There''d been no reason to maintain his act before Ny''Danis if none of the honor guard were going to make it out alive. Well, he could still save them using a Gate Stone. But there was no reason to.

    "You!" The Sun cried, pointing at a man. "You, you, and you. You four, come over here and help me carry some things." They obeyed, jogging over like the old men that they''d become, stumbling through the torn ground. The Sun looked around the edges of the grove. Smoke was entering in. The flames had reached the wall of trees, cutting off all routes of escape. The decrepit old guards would die the moment they tried shielding their lord from the flames. "All of you, finish your task then leave this grove. Hunt down any enemies that you see with your dying breath!"

    The guards bowed. Most of them exited the grove through the path that they''d arrived from. Few were left behind to chase the nymphs. The four guards came out from behind the tree carrying the Artifacts in their arms. The Sun nodded his approval, quickly making sure that every Artifact had been taken. He then took out a brittle stone from a pocket in his cloak. A Gate Stone. He imagined his small office at the highest tower of the Thousand Sun City citadel. He then snapped the stone in half and tossed it aside. A pale blue sphere appeared and slowly grew in size until it was large enough for a person to walk through. The gate would only last to the count of thirty.

    "Enter through," he commanded. "Leave every item carefully on the floor or against a wall. Then return back here through this gate." The four guards did as they were told, bringing the magical Artifacts with them. They disappeared into the blue light and then reappeared shortly after. "Go follow the rest and spend your last remaining breath hunting down the witches of this forest. May your souls reach the heavens for the good that you have done."

    "Yes, Your Brilliance," all four said in unison, their old voices cracked or rasped. They each gave slight bows before marching away ¡ªone limped away, his knee joints weak.

    The Astral Union''s field commanders had orders to retreat once the forest was reduced to naught but a dead pyre. His work finished, The Sun then went through the gate himself. Something tugged at his chest as he came out the other side. A few days'' worth of life had been extracted from him as he found himself back within the stone walls of his office room. Hollow light no longer came through the open window. The distorted space behind him closed without a sound. All was silent.

    The Sun removed his helmet. His forehead was matted with sweat and his ashen hair stuck to his skull and the back of his neck as if he''d just greased it again. He unpinned his cloak and hung it on an iron hook nailed to the wall, leaving the three point star pin at the edge of his table. The Crowns of Control and their corresponding rings had been left on it as well. Woodland Beginning was leaning against the wall while The Renewal, and The Lineage Mirror rested before his feet. He gathered them up and placed them in one empty corner. Then he sat down in his chair and ran his hand over the book of Chronary. It was in the exact same position he had left it in. He opened the cover, slight crackling sounds accompanying as if he sat before a campfire.

    "To give, you must take. To take, you must give. Only then can you have. Only then can there be." The Sun closed the book and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long exhale. He then threw his head back and laughed. Laughed long and loud. No one was there to hear.

    No one was there to here.

 Chapter 20: Smoke in the Distance

    <u>Chapter 20 - Smoke in the Distance</u>

    Wood beneath the mantelpiece crackled as flames consumed them. Kalin took a sip of his tea whilst reading through the many reports set on his desk. Contrary to the temperature in his office, the ginger tea had cooled down more than he would have liked. He frowned at the lukewarm bitter taste, scratching the sides of his neatly trimmed beard. The reports in his hands held nothing of note, though a nuisance all the same. Reports of Empire scouts, minor skirmishes between advance parties, the power struggles within their court ¡ªmore squabbles of mercantile rights or scandals of married couples¡ª reports of the state of his own garrison and city, and lastly, reports of the pesky inquisition legions of the Astral Union.

    Training young soldiers took up the vast majority of Kalin''s time. Keeping his realm in order and maintaining knowledge of his enemies and the court of Xenaria took up the rest. A busy life with little time to himself since he''d taken over as the duke of Xenaria after his father''s, Sialin''s passing. Kalin let out a heavy sigh as he stretched his legs beneath his desk. The candle in the corner had melted down two thirds since he''d lit the wick when he had come to his office. "Flames," he grumbled. It was already well past dinner time.

    He rose from his seat and stretched out. Life was easier a few years back. He was a privileged soldier serving under his father at the time. One with high enough a position to have many duties, yes, but the burdens had more than doubled since coming into his inheritance. The duty of the duke was to be the aegis of Xenaria, to keep watch on its borders and its neighbors for any and all threats. Except for the Astral Union. They were given a free pass due to their supposed rights as an ''independent justice militia.''

    Kalin knew them to be so much more than that. They were an arm for the Thousand Sun City. A nation state of only a single, enormous city. A completely militarized city with impenetrable walls and an army that not even the Tarmian Empire would dare to provoke. It was once a small vassal state to Xenaria, enjoying resource donations whilst serving as a stronghold watching the southern border. That had ended some two centuries past, though friendly relations continued to this day, many among Xenarian aristocracy having vested interests in the city.

    Sometime between those two centuries of past, the city state abruptly changed their political system, announcing the formation of the Bright Star Hegemony ¡ªnow more commonly referred to as the Astral Union.

    Despite the Sun City''s claims as a holy place, it was not a site of pilgrimage. The Astral Union''s sole purpose was to weed out any evils within the world. Anything that it claimed was evil, that is. Their soldiers roamed both Xenaria and Tarmia freely without any consequence, spying on both nations. A fact that sent chills down Kalin''s spine.

    And people immigrate to their fell city from glamorous rumors spread by their ardent inquisition legions. Flames knows how they manage to feed some two million or so mouths. Even with consistent donations and business relations from those of high standing in both Xenaria and Tarmia, that number of people should have required more funds than they could have been making.

    He sighed again as he left his office and headed down the torch lit stone walls of the Arcaeus Peak garrison. Another day, another meal within the soldier''s mess hall. The servants would have been more than happy to serve him with a more proper meal in a proper setting, but that would take too long to organize.

    Kalin was hungry and his legs needed moving. The constant headache of increasing burdens stretched him thin. There were dozens of marriage proposals waiting in his manor back at the city of Metsiphon no doubt. Dozens more that were sent to the garrison since the noblemen didn''t know where he spent his time. All of the letters ended up as meager fuel to heating flames. None of them interested Kalin. None of them were supposed to interest him. As the duke of Xenaria, his marriage was more than expected to be with a notable woman from one of the High Houses, or with Dahlia, the nation''s crown princess. The latter, which court gossip oddly claimed the most likely outcome, would one soon day make him king. Though Xenaria had been ruled by a matriarchy for centuries, it would no doubt increase his burdens.

    Armored guards posted at every corner of the garrison lowered their heads as Kalin walked by. He nodded in silent acknowledgement, his exhausted expression coming off as grim and stoic. Truthfully, he wasn''t particularly opposed to the expected marriage. Dahlia was a lovely girl with a charming smile. He''d met her on multiple occasions, though, he''d never actually tried to court her. Others had whereas she herself would turn them down and always tease him instead. He knew she had eyes for him, or at least did when he''d last seen her two years prior.

    Kalin feared not having the time to love her as a husband should. He had contemplated accepting a random marriage proposal for the sake of sparing Dahlia of what he thought would be inevitable pain. But that wouldn''t be fair to whoever''s hand he did accept. Dahlia was not foolish either. She knew what her position entailed. She would become queen within a year, when she came of age at twenty-one. Her mother, Queen Esa, had died an untimely death to illness, handing Xenaria over to the first chancellor, Marco Aurelin, until Dahlia was old enough.

    Such was the painful life of those in power. Too little time on their hands to enjoy simple pleasures such as the company of loved ones. Kalin envied the life of peasant farmers at times. How easy it would be to simply till the fields all day and then go back home in the evening to a close knitted family.

    The thoughts were interrupted by the heavy sounds of iron boots striking stone from around the corner. The guard at the corner straightened his back at the sight of the approaching man and tightened the grip around the sword hilt at his waist. He gave a salute in the direction of the noise. Kalin scowled. There was only one other person the soldiers of the garrison showed that much respect to. The ''Wolf of Metsiphon'', Jengard Rask. The man was not so easily riled, increasing Kalin''s anxiety as Rask rounded the corner with a panic stricken face, breathless.

    "Your Grace," he gasped. "The Papillion Forest. Smoke has been spotted from the distance. It burns."

    And in my endless exhaustion, I didn''t notice this myself from my window¡­

    Kalin''s fingers flexed. He held in his emotions, still maintaining a look of stone. All thoughts of hunger and weariness left him. "Who?" he asked, his suppressed anger causing his temperature to rise.

    "The Union. A messenger of theirs arrived just before the report. The Union claims that darkspawn are using the forest as a cover and need to be rooted out. Our scouts report of an army on standby surrounding the forest."

    "Where is this messenger?" Kalin asked, struggling to keep his voice level. An attack on Xenarian lands. Xenarian people. And right under his nose.

    "Resting before the gates. His horse has been given water."

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    "Send him on his way. Put a bolt in his back two miles out. We never received the message. Prepare riders, cloaked. Half the numbers of estimated enemies. No emblems. The Union must not know it''s us. Neither are we to know it is them because it''s dark out. We have excuses for when they eventually figure out that it was us. Those Flame-Scorched bastards have gone too far this time. Oh, and field an army by the Cinder River. Tarmia might try approaching, seeing the Papillion on fire and all."

    Rask nodded and hurried back. Kalin didn¡¯t know what or who was in the forest, save for rumored magical Artifacts. An Artifact, especially if it were to be a weapon, could shift the power balance between the nations. In the right hands, the tides of a battle could be turned. High House Lakris, Xenaria''s royal family, possessed one such weapon.

    The Empire no doubt had its shares ¡ªword of their powers had reached Kalin from their eastern front. The Astral Union themselves possessed the Thousand Sun Sword. It was said to be a relic from the War of Ashes. Tales of its powers were spread far and wide, though, there was little record of it being used after the war. Kalin suspected the purpose was to spread rumors. Rumors spoke of the sword being missing. Of it having been stolen long ago. Without it, other nations would be tempted to attack the Thousand Sun City, thinking it to only be maintaining a fa?ade of strength.

    As if, Kalin thought.

    He''d seen the city from a fairly close distance. Walls higher than the average watch tower. A professional army of a hundred thousand, and some three times that in trained civilian soldiers. Streets supposedly constructed in a way to make invasions easy to repel. Not to mention minor keeps functioning as small fortresses, and even more walls further inside, nearing the center. Three layers of them. At its very center, perched at the top of a plateau, lay a circular citadel with dozens of pointed peaks surrounding it as if it was to represent a sun from a bird''s eye view. Everything about the city screamed impregnable. Any army that dared approach it would likely find themselves retreating from the behemoth that would come out of its walls ¡ªan excuse the Astral Union was likely looking for¡ª and shortly after, their nation destroyed and conquered.

    The only reason the Union had yet to take any action themselves was to avoid risking an alliance between the nations that surrounded it.

    Kalin turned back towards his office. He dressed himself in appropriate attire for a cool night and put loose but sturdy leather armor on top before swinging a dark grey cloak over his shoulders. Quick and experienced fingers fastened a sword belt around his waist before he stormed out.

    It was a slog to get down the many sets of steps of the fortress, but luckily, Rask already had everything prepared by the time he reached the ground floor. The garrison soldiers were well trained and more than prepared to set out at a moment''s notice. Kalin''s eyes glazed over the unit. Around six hundred lances either mounted or mounting. Hardly enough to make an advance party but it would have to do. His own horse was at the forefront beside his commander. Rask sat a full inch taller than anyone, not due to his steed, but his own size. Kalin mounted his own beast of war, a grey stag by the name Silenus. Once his father''s horse, it had seen too many battles. Its body bore nearly as many scars as veteran soldiers.

    "The messenger has been taken care of," Rask muttered.

    Kalin nodded. He reeled his steed towards the gates and gave the command to set out. The soldiers uttered a solitary word of compliance before following after their leader. He hoped the forest would survive its siege. He didn''t want to be known as the lord of High House Serene who had failed in an ancestral duty of protecting the people. The forest''s inhabitants had strength enough to utterly massacre any probing forces daring to come near. Kalin had tried sending messengers of peace, but they only turned up dead. He had, much like his predecessors, deemed that the forest was capable of defending itself and had left it alone after that. Whoever resided within was not particularly fond of outsiders. Still, he was curious. A small part of him hoped to save the forest and force its inhabitants to be indebted to him, opening a gateway to a relationship.

    The contingent moved swiftly through the night, like the shadow of a bird flying by. The Papillion Forest was a hard thirtyish miles from the garrison. Several hours of riding with a few water breaks in between for the horses.

    Kalin felt the rhythm of his heart outpace the hundreds of hooves drumming against the open plains. He looked up at the sky, at the plume of smoke whose size only grew the nearer the cavalry contingent approached. He estimated the size of the fire given the rising grey clouds and his heart sank. He hoped it was merely the night sky distorting his vision and making the plumes seem larger than they truly were. The winds grew colder with each passing second as it pressed against the faint traces of glistening sweat on his face. Kalin gripped the reins of his horse tight and leaned in. The beast moved faster, as if understanding the need of its master of many years.

    Each short break to rest the horses added another stone''s weight of anxiety. The smoke on the horizon only seemed to thicken than lessen.

    Moonlight was enshrouded by a passing swath of clouds during the final stretch. The grass of the open plains, wet with condensation, grew dark. Kalin held out his arm, signaling the contingent to slow down as he saw the decline up ahead. An orange glow came from beyond it. The cavalry unit stopped before the decline. Silent whispers ran through the soldiers as they witnessed the sight before them. A burning forest with thousands surrounding it. The thought of failure blitzed through Kalin like a thunderbolt. But more than anything, he felt anger. A boiling rage that curdled his blood ¡ªthat the Union should have the audacity to strike at Xenaria, at her citizens, under his watch... He breathed out through his teeth. The forest''s people were one he''d never seen, but that was an ill excuse for this state of things. Defense of them was still his burden to bear!

    The Greyscale River narrowed up ahead, and its banks went unwatched. The Union wasn''t expecting an attack from Arcaeus Peak. They intended to burn the forest down in a single night. The Xenarians were outnumbered greatly, but the Union''s lines were spread thin to encompass the entire surface area around the forest. Kalin ripped his sword free of its sheathe and stretched an arm forward to signal his charge without alerting the enemies. The least he would be capable of with his hastily prepared contingent was creating a gap in the siege. The Union''s trained soldiers would no doubt form ranks to stop him before the siege could be broken entirely. With any luck, survivors of the forest would use the gap to escape. Assuming there were any. And assuming that any would be survivors were waiting at the northeastern edge of the forest.

    The contingent put up their hoods to mask themselves and charged down the decline. They formed a thin line to get across the shallowest part of the river. Hooves splashed down on water like a thousand rocks thrown into a lake. If the Astral Union hadn''t heard the approaching enemies, they most certainly turned their heads at the vibrating ground as six hundred horses bore down on them. None of the Xenarians uttered a single word as they crashed into enemy lines. The only sounds were of clashing metals and Union soldiers shouting as they were trampled beneath hooves or hewn by iron blades. Kalin''s arm swung down, cutting men and equipment alike without discrimination as his horse mowed all that stood before it. Beside him, Rask swung his mighty halberd with twice as much fury, his thick arm not having any trouble wielding a weapon of such length.

    The Union was forming their ranks faster than Kalin anticipated. "Harder!" he called. He dug a heel into Silenus'' side.

    The horse sped up and he held on to the reins tight. He put his focus on keeping his balance rather than swinging his sword. The lancers behind him would trample or skewer any enemies anyway. Kalin planned to create as large a gap as possible before he met with any effective resistance. His contingent focused on speed just as he''d ordered, disrupting the enemy''s organization attempt. The fear in their eyes was made evident by the light of the glowing fires reflecting off of their armor and weaponry. They turned tail and ran. A futile attempt. Two legged humans could not out run four legged war beasts.

    Eventually, the Union''s officers farther down the line managed to create a wall of pike men. Kalin gave the signal for retreat and steered Silenus to the side, his soldiers following after him. They rode down the path they had come. Any Union forces that had survived the thousands of hooves did not survive their second coming. At all times, Kalin kept his eyes to the burning forest. He hoped to see survivors break out and run for the hills with the opportunity he had created. But his rescue attempt was much too belated. Not a hint of a soul could be seen within the flames. Not a hint could be heard either. No cries. No shouts. No one came out. Kalin''s breast swelled with shame.

    For the first time in his life, the duke of Xenaria had failed in his given duty.

 Chapter 21: One to Remember All

    <u>Chapter 21 - One to Remember All</u>

    Sneaking past was never going to work with the sheer amount of enemies. Sar''tara considered sprinting past them. They were armored. They would be slow. But she was out of breath and hungry. She would end up caught one way or another. She didn''t know if she had it in her at that moment to fight past them. But that was the only option remaining to her. She needed to head to the Selharr village. Her fears only grew when she looked up in the sky and noticed thick smoke clouds rising from that direction. It was still a full night''s run away at her current pace. It''s okay, she convinced herself. Stel''Na would protect the others. Maybe she''d be fortunate enough to meet her elder sister half way there.

    Sar''tara grit her teeth and stepped forward. The world around her tilted and bent in a strange way. She had barely gone a few feet, walking as if she would after a night of heavy drinking before falling to her knees again. She was hallucinating. She spat out phlegm gathered at the back of her throat. She bit her lip and drew blood to awaken her senses. She then sucked in a breath and ducked into a rosebush thicket. Pain was the last of her worries. She cared not for the thorns poking into her limbs.

    What came next was a game of true patience just as she''d come to learn from the first Trial. The soldiers drew ever nearer. They stepped about with care to ensure they didn¡¯t trip over large branches or stray roots. Their helmet covered heads moved from side to side, observing every minute detail in a restless hunt for enemies. The helmet less ones, the squad leaders with capes of night marched fearlessly with their chests puffed out and backs straight. But their ill intent bearing eyes touched everything, from shrubs to the tops of trees. For every ten armored soldiers, there was one leader from what Sar''tara could tell. She crouched low. A small part of her hoped to avoid detection. Her slight movement caused the rosebush to rustle. It drew the gaze of the nearest squad leader. The bush was thick enough for her to not be seen instantly. But that didn''t help her avoid detection.

    The man walked closer to the bush to inspect it. He leaned in, his expression suggesting that he couldn''t believe a person would dare to hide in a rosebush. His eyes met hers. In a blink, his blade was in hand and ready to thrust. Within that same blink Sar''tara jumped out, thorns marring her skin at every which place. She lunged towards him with her arms stretched out, the tips of her bone knives pointed towards him.

    There was no strength within her arms. The knives harmlessly bounced off his breastplate and she found herself leaning against him for support. The man placed a hand on her bare torso, meaning to push her away before killing her. Sar''tara, with no option left to her, stepped in closer to him and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. He let out a horrid cry, dropping his sword and pushing her away with all his strength. Part of his neck was torn apart as she was shoved aside. Somehow, she still managed to stay on her feet.

    Sar''tara felt like throwing up at the taste of the hot metallic liquid. She''d already tasted blood from biting her own lips. This was so much more exaggerated than that. The chunk of flesh inside her mouth reminded her of eating raw boar liver. The thought was all the more nauseating. She was on the verge of vomiting when she noticed the looks of the armored soldiers.

    They grimaced, some pressing their arms to their sides and taking a shaky half-step backwards. In that moment, Sar''tara was to them a savage beast. An uncivilized animal. She spat the piece of flesh out and bared her red teeth towards them, bringing about a low gurgle from the base of her throat, displaying her assumed insanity. The soldiers had their weapons drawn but their stances were closed, making them appear smaller than they really were. Sar''tara didn¡¯t miss their hesitation. Adrenaline pumped through her anew. She ran towards them, expecting them to turn tail. They instead stood resolute with swords held before them. Their fear only served to delay their movements.

    Sar''tara''s bone knife found the eye of the nearest enemy. A painful screech sounded as the man fell back, throwing his helmet away to clutch his eye. She hadn''t gone deep enough to kill, but he would remain half blind for the remainder of his life. She moved on to the next nearest foe only to realize that a wall of eight men had been formed in front of her. She paused. Within moments the eight men surrounded her as if encircling a rabid beast.

    Sar''tara recalled the dance of her now dead sister. Of how Kiali had shuffled on her toes to narrowly avoid all strikes whilst wielding two knives.

    Kiali¡­

    Sar''tara pressed forward. She slid between the edges of two swords, one slightly catching her arm and deepening a scratch left by a rose thorn. Her knives flashed, finding two throats. One was a killing slash while the other was a slight scratch. It was enough to break out of the encirclement. Sar''tara ran. Ran hard without turning around. Many enemies still lay in wait, all of them trying to seal her fate.

    "Kill her!" came shouts from behind.

    A searing pain spread in a line along her back. It had barely healed since the battle with the Kreiva Vashiri. She guessed that a sword tip had been dragged along it. That didn''t stop her legs. She carried on, dodging past the many enemies as best she could. Shouts for killing continued. They were to leave none alive. Why she wondered. What did we ever do to them? She no longer knew in which direction she ran. Her legs kept moving. The edges of her vision blurred. The soldiers tried creating formations to surround her again. She leapt over them, the strength in her legs surprising even herself.

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    Bright orange became clear to her then. Sar''tara no longer saw the purpose in running. But her legs moved all the same. Roaring fires as far as her weakening sight could see. The Papillion Forest was burning. She had nowhere to go. Despite her fading senses and the shouts from behind, despite the sound of collapsing branches and the crackling of vicious flames, the sounds of running water whispered into her ears. She followed it, her delirious thoughts assuming that the waters of a river would help put out the blaze.

    Bolts flew past Sar''tara. Some grazed her, drawing more blood than she was already shedding. Her entire vision had blurred. Dancing lights were all she saw. Years of imprinted memory caused her to step over roots and avoid sharp thickets. Her feet maneuvered around all obstacles. Her head ducked beneath low hanging branches. All the while the blood backing into her throat mingled with the blood of the man she''d bitten. Sounds of the shouting faded. She finally stumbled past a clearing, coming upon a riverbank of gravel. Two soldiers lay kneeling, taking a drink. Their heads turned at the sudden sound. Sar''tara raised a shaky arm, meaning to stab the nearest one.

    In a swift movement, the hilt of his sword was thrust in her side. Both knives fell out of her hands. She leaned forward and held the soldier to keep her feet. He threw her aside, letting her fall to the bank. Her elbow first contacted the ground. The length of Sar''tara''s left arm buzzed. The arrows in her quiver spilled out. She had forgotten about them entirely, having lost her bow a while ago. The side of her head struck gravel and a pocket of vision cleared before her. The edge of her braided hair touched the cool water. She realized just how thirsty she was. She rolled on her belly and dragged herself closer to the river.

    "How many vials do you have?" one of the armored men asked.

    "Five with me I think," the second said. "You?"

    "Same. Slit her wrist. Drain her blood and then be done with her."

    "Why do we need their blood anyhow?"

    "Something about it being the key ingredient to making an everflower. Not sure. The wealthy pay a flowerpot''s weight in gold though. Helps keep men like us fed."

    "Wretched Flames! Look at those hideous wounds. These women are resilient. I''ll give them that. Savage. But resilient."

    "And rather tempting."

    The conversation was barely registering to Sar''tara. A small conscious part of her wanted to ask them why they attacked. The rest of her was focused on attaining water. Her hands were submerged in the edges of the river. Sar''tara pulled herself closer. She stuck her tongue out, eager for a taste. She flinched as probing hands slid into her skirt and between her legs. They poked about, causing her great discomfort. She couldn''t fathom what reason they had for doing such a thing other than to shame her.

    "No squad leaders around. We could play a bit before offing her."

    "I don''t know," the other man said, his voice shaky. "The flames are approaching. We shouldn''t dally."

    "Grow a pair, would you. We''ll swim down the river and out of the forest if it comes to it. It''s not every day you come by such a lean and curvaceous body, bloody though she may be. Whores at the city are too thin. A shame. She has such smooth skin too. Do you think she squeals?" the man asked as he gripped her lean thigh and pulled her away from the river.

    Sar''tara, still desperate for a drink, squealed then. She felt humiliated, reacting just as he had predicted. Her legs thrashed about. She tried begging for water but her words came out in fragments, making it seem like she was gasping. One of the men rolled her onto her back. Sar''tara cried out like a child as the gash on her back was pressed against the gravel. The man had stripped himself of his armor for some odd reason and his partner was doing the same. Out of desperation, Sar''tara flicked water at his bearded face. He flinched as it entered his eyes. She tucked in her knees and kicked at his already crooked nose. It twisted with a sharp crack.

    "This¡­ This bitch!" the man cried, his voice slightly higher pitched than before. He held his broken nose to staunch the red stream that now poured out.

    The second man came up to Sar''tara. She squirmed towards the river, crying as the wound on her back was dragged along the bank. Her hands searched for her knives. They found arrows instead. A heavy boot came down on her belly. The man looked into her eyes. She glared back. A long scar ran down his left eye. He had a thick mustache and no beard.

    "Too dangerous," he said. "I think I''ll just kill you instead. Lay still and I promise it''ll be painless." He knelt before her arm and rolled up the length of his trouser sleeve, revealing an iron knife tied to his calf. He planned to slit her wrist she realized. For what? Why couldn''t he just put her out of her misery? Was such cruelty necessary for some everflowers?

    The man pulled the knife out. He saw the arrows in her hand a second too late. Cruelty was repaid with cruelty. With a rasped howl, Sar''tara jammed the arrow into the side of his head. It was firmly embedded within before the shaft snapped in two.

    The second man stared in horror as his partner was brutally slain. He fumbled through his armor for his sword. The blood from his broken nose dripped everywhere, causing his trembling hands to slip along the surface of his iron plates. He muttered the word ''where'' repeatedly, glancing back to see if Sar''tara was still laying down.

    She would have killed him had she the strength. But she no longer was capable of pulling herself up. With a final desperate struggle, Sar''tara dragged herself into the running waters of the river. There was an initial sting as the water touched the wound on her back. After that, she felt relief. All of her strength faded into oblivion as the current carried her downstream. A cool embrace amidst the burning forest. She submerged her arms, letting the water cleanse her wounds, if only slightly. In the skies above, all Sar''tara saw were thick grey clouds caused by the flames closing in around her. The light of the burning forest was much too bright. She closed her eyes. The harsh oranges and whites pierced through still. Regardless, everything eventually did fade to black as Sar''tara''s consciousness faded away. The last feeling she had was that of her faintly beating heart as she drifted along like a spirit in the wind.

    She''d survived. Somehow. But not for long. There was no one to treat her. The huntress knew that she would die soon. She just wished it would be before she woke up again.

 Chapter 22: Patient

    <u>Chapter 22 - Patient</u>

    "What if she''s an Empire spy?"

    Kalin crossed his arms. "Are you suggesting that based on the color of her skin, Rask?"

    "Well no, I mean, she could just as easily be a spy from anywhere," Rask said hurriedly.

    "She was found drifting along the riverbank. Her attire marks her as a tribal person. Such wounds," Kalin mused, leaning back in his chair. "And that gash on her back. Blessed Flames. By all rights, she shouldn''t even have a heartbeat right now." Rask shuffled to his right. The large man picked up the empty quiver the woman had strapped to her back. A pungent smell came from within. The commander poked around with a stick. It had a dark yellowish paste at one end when he took it out. "Some manner of toxin?" Kalin asked.

    "I would assume so. Should I send it back to the garrison to investigate?"

    Kalin nodded. Rask gave a short bow before exiting the command tent. Kalin tugged at the sides of his cloak. It was well into the day. Despite clear skies from the night before, the morning had been a grey one with a chill to the air. He looked over the maps of his surroundings for what was the tenth time while idly chewing on a wooden spoon.

    It tasted like wood. Obviously.

    The last remnants of the plain stew he''d had for breakfast had already been licked clean long ago. He frowned as he looked down at the empty bowl. Something primal within him desired to lick the edges as his stomach growled. He dismissed the thoughts. He was noble born. Licking a bowl was far beneath him.

    The day was passing with little event. Kalin had been waiting in his seat for something. Anything. Scouts reported nothing on the Astral Union''s movements. They had retreated back to their city when their business was complete. Nothing but a field of smoldering black lay where the Papillion Forest once stood. Sending a search party for survivors wasn''t possible with thick noxious fumes still swirling about the desecrated site.

    As expected, the Empire of Tarmia had sent out a prowling legion of their own. They''d been camped on the opposite end of the Cinder River about a dozen miles from where Kalin had set his own camp. They had yet to make any moves since arriving at their position. He doubted they would move. The Xenarian garrison was too close. Unless they were planning a full scale invasion, the only way for them to enter the remains of the forest would be to sneak in during the dead of night ¡ªsomething Kalin would never allow.

    But he''d also vowed to never let any outsiders near the forest. Yet it had burned down before him.

    He pressed two fingers against his temples. There was likely little reason to go to the forest''s remains anyway. Any magical Artifacts had probably been taken by the Union. And anyone still alive would soon suffocate in the grey haze.

    Having little else with which to occupy himself, Kalin rose from his seat and headed outside. The urge to shiver pulled at his nerves. He endured, standing tall and proud. Flurries descended from the bleak sky above him, their solemn silence resonating with his own.

    It would have been reasonable for Kalin to simply return to the garrison, leaving Rask in charge of the fielded army. But Kazir was the one leading the Empire''s legion. Kalin had no intention of leaving the field whilst such a devious enemy commander was deployed.

    Two guards hounded him as he walked through the camp. His eyes flickered from side to side, ensuring everything was in order. His soldiers ran through drills to keep themselves warm. Few sat huddled by fires. There was little worry on their faces. They all trusted their leader wholeheartedly. Even in the event of an emergency, the garrison was about a day''s jog away. Kalin found himself walking towards the medic tents where his skilled physics rested. There were no patients from the night before. The worst anyone had suffered was a scratch. He stopped before a small tent that had been erected for the sole survivor from the forest, motioning his guards to stay on standby. "No patients save for one," he muttered to himself as he stepped inside.

    "I said make sure the water is hot!" a middle aged woman said. "Not warm but hot! Why are you back so soon?" She turned around and gasped. She quickly grabbed a fist full of her lengthy skirt, giving both a curtsy and a bow at the same. "Your Grace, my apologies. I thought¡ª"

    Kalin waved the matter away, causing the physic to close her mouth instantly. "How is the patient?" he asked.

    The physic turned to the woman laying down on layers of thick sheets and blankets. "She''ll live. But she seems to have lost a lot of blood. I''ve barely managed to stitch the cut on her back. I''ve yet to thoroughly wipe down the many cuts upon her arms and legs. I can''t guess when she''ll wake."

    Kalin nodded. He inspected the patient''s features. The calluses on her fingertips marked her as an experienced archer. She was tall for the average woman. As tall as Rask and himself. Her dark hair reached down to her waist. It had been braided when the soldiers pulled her out of the river. The braid had been untied since. She had a sharp nose and high cheekbones. Even sleeping in defeat, the woman seemed to embody the word ''pride''. "Let me know if she wakes," he said before leaving. He had questions to ask her. Though, it didn''t seem appropriate to interrogate someone after they''d lost their home. Nor did he know whether she even spoke the same language.

    ***

    Flames. Everywhere Sar''tara looked she saw flames. Everything around her burned. There was no sensation within her body. But she could feel it burning. She opened her mouth to cry for help but all that came out of her parched throat was a gasp. The fires closed in on her. They then suddenly disappeared moments before searing tongues singed her face. Everything became black.

    The memories hit her in a torrent. She recalled everything from the Guardian Trials to the burning of the forest. Images of the Selharr village and all of her sisters flashed before her. Sar''tara cried out to them. No one answered back. Panic took ahold of her. What had happened to them? Had they survived the culling? They had to have. Stel''Na would surely have led them away from danger. But what of Ny''Danis? What of her Mother? Last she knew, the plains dwellers were attacking the deity''s grove. Sar''tara knew her Mother was strong. But would she have been strong enough to protect all the naiads and dryads? Strong enough to protect her infant daughters?

    Red dripping down the Forest Deity''s fingers. Kiali lying on the floor. A hand squeezed around Sar''tara''s heart. Did Ny''Danis even care to protect it all? To protect the only home her daughters had ever known?

    Fear curled itself around Sar''tara''s veins as she recalled her last moments. Recalled the many armored soldiers. The fires closing in around her. The river carrying her away and her final wish for death. She wasn''t dead. She was well aware of that. The flames returned with those agonizing memories. This time, they didn''t disappear. They touched her and she cried out as her very skin felt as if it were being ripped from the flesh beneath.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "Calm down," a voice said. It sounded familiar. Stel''Na? It was a bit deeper. Maybe Stel''Na was just exhausted. For a moment, Sar''tara did relax. The familiar sound put her heart at ease despite how hot she felt. "Yes. Just relax. I''m here."

    That voice did not belong to Stel''Na.

    She trembled. Vague feeling returned to her limbs. She probed her surroundings with her fingertips for a weapon. All they felt was softness like the pelt of a hare, but not quite. Her hand reached down to her thigh where she kept her leather band and knives. There was nothing. She realized that she was completely bare. No fur cloak over her shoulders. No quiver strapped to her back. No garments around her breasts or waist. Her eyes were also shut. The flames she was seeing was entirely in her head. She tried willing them open, but her eyelids remain stuck together. "Get me a cloth and water," the voice suddenly cried. "Her temperature is rising!"

    Sar''tara tried relaxing. Whoever the new woman was, she was taking care of her. Something wet and cool was placed upon her forehead. A temporary relief. She felt a caring hand run through her hair. She thought that it was perhaps a survivor from the M?khain or the Kreiva. A fellow sister. Her breath came to a halt when hearing other voices.

    "Should we ask her of the Artifacts?" one voice said. "There may yet be hidden ones that weren''t found. We also need to know what our enemies may have come into possession of."

    "The woman has just lost everything, Rask. She needs time to recover," a second said.

    "But¡ª"

    "Rask, you have a family of your own. I expect you to understand something as simple as this."

    "Apologies, Your Grace."

    Sar''tara''s heartrate increased. Each beat rang loud against her eardrums. Deep voices. Similar to those of the invading soldiers. Plains dwellers. They had invaded her forest. Burned it down. Slain her sisters. The second man''s words confirmed her fears. She had lost everything.

    No.

    Everything had been taken from her. Stolen from her. They had stolen her life, her home, and even her family. Sensation soon returned to her limbs. She began thrashing about.

    "Hold still!" the caretaker said. "Your wounds will reopen! There is nothing to harm you here."

    Sar''tara didn''t listen. She continued to toss and turn, all while her hands searched for something to defend herself with.

    "One of you! Hold her down! If the wound on her back tears, she could bleed out."

    Sar''tara heard heavy footsteps running towards her. Ny''Danis, please, she begged in her mind. Even after everything she knew, everything she''d seen, she had little option but to pray to the Forest Deity. Please let me find a weapon before they reach me! All her hopes faded as she felt her arms get pinned against the soft material that she lay on. Her mouth opened and she screamed. Her eyes opened shortly after. She stared into the deep brown eyes of a man. He had a stern expression. She continued to scream, hoping he would pull away from her. Sar''tara''s screams stopped when her breath ran out, her limbs, soon after. Her entire body ached terribly. Tears clouded her vision. She began wailing like a child.

    "Get away from her! You''re scaring the poor girl," a woman shouted. Her garments were strange. The entire length of her body and arms were covered in a strange faded sky blue outfit. The features of her face bore a vague resemblance to Freya. That fleeting resemblance was enough for the bewildered and frightened Sar''tara to extend her arms towards the woman whilst crying. The woman knelt before her and held her hands. "There, there. They won''t hurt you. I promise."

    Sar''tara tried nodding but her neck was stiff. She tried responding instead but the only sounds that came out of her mouth were incoherent cries.

    The strangely dressed woman turned her head to the two men in the small enclosed space. "I meant no offense, grace," she said hurriedly. "I mean none still, but can you leave her to me for the time being? I don''t think she''s fond of soldiers¡­"

    The two men looked to each other before stepping away. Their figures disappeared after they ducked out of the small enclosed space. Sar''tara held the woman for a very long time. Her surroundings began to fade in color. Things began turning dark. The sun had set, she realized. She finally let go of her caretaker. The woman wiped away her tears before slowly standing up to stretch. Sar''tara felt guilty for having forced her to stay in one position for such a long time. "Wh-where¡­?" she managed to say in between gasps for air.

    "Ah, at least we speak the same language. All in good time, dear. Don''t think too hard and focus on recovering. I will be here for you. My name is Meredith. If ever I am not here, simply cry my name and I will come running." Sar''tara blinked in acknowledgement, sniffling. She rolled her caretaker''s name over her tongue. The woman exited the odd space. It was similar to a hut, except the floor was made of grass rather than hard dirt. As if the thing had recently been erected over the ground. Or perhaps that was how these particular plains dwellers lived. Was she in one of their vast settlements known as cities?

    She pulled the soft blankets closer to her. The night carried a harsh chill. Her clothing lay a few feet away from her, though only her leather skirt and breast cover. She looked down at her body. Strange strips of white had been wrapped around her wounds. Any movements of her torso sent sharp pains running across the length of her back. She reached back and felt where her wound was. It had been stitched shut.

    Sar''tara looked around for a drink. A wooden basin had been left by her. A white object of similar texture to her blankets had been left inside. Sar''tara removed the damp object and drank out of the bowl just as Meredith came back inside, her hands occupied with food plates. "Don''t drink out of that!" she cried. Startled, Sar''tara dropped the bowl and spilled the contents all over herself. Her caretaker shook her head. "That''s filthy. I''ll get you clean water."

    Sar''tara tucked in her knees and wrapped her arms around them. She was in a strange place with strange people and customs. They probably thought of her as strange as well. At least there was a single kind soul willing to take care of her. But that didn''t change the fact that armored soldiers were about. She was still in the possession of the very people that had burnt her home. They wanted something from her. The magical Artifacts held by Ny''Danis by the sounds of it. Sar''tara assumed her Mother to have hidden the Artifacts. Else the plains dwellers would have already come to possess the objects since they said the entire forest had burned down.

    Had it though? Surely not all of her home had fallen victim to the flames. There had to be other survivors. Others she could look to and trust in this strange place. These outsiders couldn''t be trusted. If she was alive, it''s because they needed something from her. Maybe they were lying about the forest burning. Maybe they wanted her to feel alone. Sar''tara pressed her mouth to her knees, curling into a ball. Alone. She was just that though. Not even Ny''Danis had a place in her heart. Though the thought ¡ªthe need of a caring mother still occupied it.

    Meredith placed a bowl of normal seeming stew before her along with an odd light brown rock like object. She left again to fetch water. Sar''tara inspected her food. At least some of it was familiar. She picked up the strange rock. It was soft enough for her to press down on. Strange white dust covered its surface. She tried taking a bite out of it. The texture was coarse. It was hard to chew and made her mouth dry. But the more moisture it absorbed, the softer it became.

    Sar''tara looked down at her stew, and then back at the rock. She dipped it in the liquid, expecting it to soften. Her expectations became reality, making the rock easier to bite through. It tasted wonderful as well. The stew was salted and contained greens that she''d never seen before. The meat was also something new. The blissful meal put a slight smile on her face. Dried tears on her cheeks made her feel the stretching of her skin.

    Meredith returned with a cylindrical bowl of water. It had a handle at the side for ease of carrying. She smiled, seeing her patient eating with a childlike enthusiasm. "Is it to your liking?"

    Sar''tara nodded. She held up the strange food object. "This rock. Where does it come from?"

    Meredith laughed. "That''s no rock, dear. It is bread. Stale bread. When we return to the garrison, I''ll make sure to give you fresh bread. It''s warm and soft and entirely lovely. Especially with butter. Much better than what you''re having now."

    "Oh. Bred¡­" she mumbled. Strange word for a food object. What is butter? Meredith said return to the garrison. What was a garrison and where were they now? Sar''tara cleared her bowl. Her caretaker took the eating utensils away and she was once again left alone. The warmth of the meal had spread across her body, making her feel drowsy. But she still felt cold inside. She wished she were back at the village. She wished she could have had a drink to light a flame of confidence within herself. Wished she could have huddled against her fellow sisters as they so often would during the cold nights of the evernight season.

 Chapter 23: Pillar

    <u>Chapter 23 - Pillar</u>

    Kalin paced back in forth in his tent. His eyes stung from a lack of sleep. The sun was finally starting to rise. It marked the ninth morning since the forest woman had awoken. Meredith still forbade any soldiers from entering. He understood. The woman lost her way of life from an outsider invasion. Armored soldiers would feel out of place.

    But his impatience grew with each passing day. He had questions that needed answering. The physic reported all of her conversations to him, which there were little of. Nothing more than small talk. The woman ¡ªwhose name Meredith had reported to be Sar''tara¡ª was simply doing her best to better understand her surroundings. She asked questions regarding weather and food and clothes. Spoke little of who she was and what had happened to her.

    The tent flap flung aside. A young soldier came in. His dark cropped hair was glazed with morning dew. Kalin thought his face familiar. "Your Grace," he began with a fist to his chest, his oversized cloak touching the ground. "Empire parties have been spotted hovering around the Cinder River''s edge. The smoke from the forest''s remains is also clearing out."

    "You''re a scout?" Kalin questioned, seeing the lack of archery equipment on the man. He hardly looked into his late teens.

    "No, Your Grace. A graduate from the second class of riding recruits this year. I''ve been positioned as a scout here."

    "There''s no such thing as a formal class of scouts. If you can ride hard and shoot well, you''re primed for the position. Where''s your bow and quiver?"

    "Never learned. But I ranked at the top of my class when it came to lances and swords."

    Kalin crossed his arms. Never learned? Every soldier needed to at least have a modicum of knowledge on all forms of weaponry. Recruit curriculum would need to be modified. "Name?"

    "Faren, sir. I am near eighteen. A hundred-man unit leader."

    Kalin''s brow rose. A unit leader at that age was a rather extraordinary accomplishment. It was no wonder the face was familiar. Kalin knew the faces of all his officers, though putting names to them was often lost on him. "Take your unit and harry their scouts. Do not engage further than necessary. The enemy leader is cunning. Simply keep watch and report any abnormalities."

    Faren nodded and saluted again before leaving. Kalin paced around some more. With the smoke cleared, an investigation party could be sent. He wanted to inspect the ashes himself. It was more than frustrating for an entire forest belonging to Xenaria to have been burnt down by a foreign nation with little to be done in retaliation. The Astral Union was too large a beast to provoke ¡ªespecially with Tarmia seeking an opportunity to invade.

    Kalin could only imagine what the forest woman felt after losing her home. He decided to visit her. She had a right to attend the investigation party. She couldn''t lay cooped up in a tent forever. He stepped out into the open air. The cold hit him like a bucket of ice water. He wore nothing but a royal blue shirt and trousers, albeit the shirt had frills at the end with bright yellow laces sewn into them. It was expensive and made him easily recognizable to his men. He refused to rub his arms and maintained his disaffected image as he made his way through the dark of the early morning camp, night duty guards following him. A slight guilty conscience gnawed at him for having the men stand outside during the long cold. But they were well trained and rotated shifts every few hours. Kalin waved them away, knowing they would still follow even if it was from a distance.

    Meredith was just coming out of Sar''tara''s tent with a wide beam. It disappeared when she spotted him. She bunched up her skirt and bowed. "Y-your Grace. You''re awake early."

    "Out with it. What are you hiding?"

    "I-nothing! The girl is still afraid. I¡ª"

    "Don¡¯t think I should be here?" Kalin finished.

    "No! I wouldn''t dare presume where you should and shouldn''t be," she stammered. "The girl''s wounds have already closed. She heals quicker than any I''ve treated. But her heart remains wounded."

    "If she''s healed, all the better." He brushed past the physic towards the tent. Meredith cried out and briefly grasped at the ends of his shirt. Kalin paused and tilted his head ever so slightly, his narrowed eyes asking a question and making a command at the same time. Meredith let go of his shirt and grumbled an apology. He threw aside the tent flap and ducked inside and she followed.

    Sar''tara, her hands occupied with a cup of water, widened her eyes. She kicked with her legs and scrambled to the far end of the tent at the sight of him. The cup left her fingers and flew towards Kalin. It barely missed him, though, its contents splashed along the side of his face.

    The edges of his mouth twitched. She was a foreigner, unaware of Xenarian customs. Unaware of his standing. But Kalin Serene had never experienced such disrespect since inheriting his title. Even in her fear, he could see the lingering pride behind her eyes. A pride that had been hurt by missing the thrown cup. The smallest of smiles spread along his lips as he looked at the woman. It had been a long time since the corners of his mouth had curled, slight as it was. She was wearing the same clothes she''d been found in. A deerskin pelt strapped around her breasts and her waist covered with a leather skirt that hardly reached the tops of her knees. He crossed his arms, wondering if she would at all introduce herself.

    ***

    Sar''tara swallowed, eyes fixed upon the man standing before her. She was told that she was in a military encampment and not a city. She had poked her head out of the tent a few times, long after the sun had set. She couldn''t muster the courage to step out. At all times, armored men roamed the encampment and she was without weapon.

    Meredith cried out and ran towards her. "Your Grace, she meant no offense!" the caretaker pleaded, wrapping a sheet around Sar''tara.

    The man idly waved his hand. Sar''tara figured her clothing was immodest by plains dweller standards long ago, given the way Meredith dressed herself. But she had nothing else to wear. She looked back at the man standing by the hut''s entrance. She recognized his brown eyes and trimmed beard to belong to the same person she''d seen when she had first awakened. She remembered the way his gaze had pierced through her then. Had seen her vulnerability. An air of intimidation surrounded him. Sar''tara opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out. She grabbed fistfuls of her blankets, despising herself for being so afraid of a person when she had never feared wild beasts.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    But animals weren''t intelligent. Animals were primal. They weren''t capable of committing massacres. They weren''t capable of burning entire forests down. Humans were capable of this. All the more reason to fear them.

    "Your Grace, she is still¡ª" Meredith began, but her lips snapped shut as he held up a hand.

    He had authority, Sar''tara figured. Mere gestures were enough to silence his inferiors. Was he the one in charge then? Meredith had said that he had nothing to do with the attacks on the forest. If not him, then who, she thought, teeth clenching. Who was it that had burned her home?

    Sar''tara tried speaking again. "H-hello." She ground her teeth behind closed lips. Why had she stuttered? The man looked her in the eye. She wanted to crawl even further back. His gaze was stern and calm. He was studying her, she realized. Just as a huntress studies her prey. Studies its structure and measures its capabilities. He was looking at her as if she were an enemy.

    "Hello indeed. We met under unfortunate circumstances last time. I am Kalin Serene, duke of Xenaria."

    Sar''tara nodded. All familiar terms thanks to Meredith, though of their meaning, Sar''tara wasn''t certain. She remained silent, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. He was waiting for her to respond.

    "And you are¡­?" he finally asked.

    "Sar''tara Vashiri. D-daughter of Ny''Danis, the Forest Deity." She looked down, biting her bottom lip. Half of her wanted to be held by her Mother''s arms while the other half hoped Ny''Danis had died during the invasion.

    Kalin nodded. "Deity," he echoed. He closed the distance between them and sat down cross legged before her not one foot away. She squirmed uncomfortably, her back touching the cloth wall of the hut. She felt the sting of cold coming from a gap underneath.

    "Your Grace! Should you need a chair, I can¡ª"

    "Meredith, please leave us," Kalin said, waving his hand again.

    Meredith looked to Sar''tara who slowly shook her head, her expression screaming a silent plea. She felt as if they''d grown close in the last few days. Meredith was kind and caring just as Freya had been. But she had no power. She turned away and left, leaving the weaponless Sar''tara alone. All authority in the room belonged to the man named Kalin. He was unarmed as well. But could she really win against those Kreivan like muscles without the aid of arrows and poison if he decided to attack her?

    "How is your back?" he asked.

    She flinched, not expecting such a well-meaning question. "Better¡­ Your Grace?"

    Kalin shook his head. "There is no need for you to address me as such. You aren''t familiar with me, and neither I, with you. For now, we are equals."

    Sar''tara nodded. Equals. "My weapons¡­" she began. The man had an eyebrow raised. She thought she overstepped. Of course they wouldn''t give her weapons.

    "You had none. There was but an empty quiver strapped to your back when we found you."

    "Oh."

    "You are afraid of me. Why?" he asked, crossing his arms.

    Sar''tara realized that she''d been avoiding eye contact. "You''re a soldier. And¡­ They killed my sisters. Burned my home." She was surprised by the growing vehemence in her voice as images of burning trees surfaced in her mind. "They came wearing iron. They had iron swords and spears and bolt firing bows. The soldiers here have the same things."

    "A reasonable conclusion," Kalin said. "Do you know for what purpose you were attacked?"

    "I want to know who attacked!" Sar''tara said, glaring. Fear became a withered thing in her sudden anger.

    "Do you believe that it was us?" Kalin asked, carrying on calmly.

    "I¡ª You have iron armor. But Meredith said¡­" Sar''tara looked down at her hands. Could she believe Meredith just because she was kind? Ny''Danis had been kind also and¡­ "Mother had things," she softly said after a while. She blinked back her tears. Her anger died as suddenly as it''d arrived, loneliness replacing the void left by its departure. Did she have another choice than to trust these people in whose hands her fate rested? "Artifacts that you plains dwellers want. That you''ve wanted for centuries. That you coveted enough to burn our home. Will you deny that?"

    Kalin shook his head.

    Sar''tara''s heart sank. Was everyone outside the forest driven by greed?

    "I have no desire for power," Kalin said. "I have enough of it already. But as a person in power, it weighs on my mind when my neighbors gain objects of magic. They will no doubt attack us if they''re confident of winning."

    "Like the Kreiva?" Sar''tara asked. The man tilted his head questioningly. "The Kreiva were a separate tribe of the Vashiri. They were taller than us and their bodies more powerful. They attacked my tribe once because they thought us weak. We won against them."

    "So you understand what war is at least. What happened afterwards?"

    "We reconciled and had a feast. We are all daughters of the Forest Deity. All siblings." Sar''tara wondered if there were any Kreivan survivors. If anyone had the strength to fight against the enemy, it would have been them. But their numbers compared to the invaders were so few. Her chest ached further. The Selharr had been left with fewer. She began doubting whether Stel''Na had managed to save herself, let alone anyone else.

    "I see," Kalin said. He scratched at his beard. "Do you know what sort of Artifacts your Mother had?"

    Her eyes narrowed. "So you do want them¡­"

    "Need more than want. Though, I''ll settle for information instead."

    "I don''t," Sar''tara admitted. He examined her expression for a while, as if doubting her words. She rubbed her arms, looking away. Kalin didn¡¯t press the issue.

    "Whether you believe my next words or not, I will leave up to you," he began. "The people that attacked your home are known as the Astral Union. Truth be told, the Papillion Forest is within the borders of the Xenarian nation, within my Household''s demesne. Thus, its protection falls upon my shoulders. I was enraged when the Union attacked. Perhaps not as much as you have a right to be, but I set out to retaliate. We did what we could but were too late to stop the fires. The Union''s actions is enough for us to declare war, though that right is reserved for the crown, not me. We also admittedly do not have the strength to challenge the Union as it stands." Kalin sighed. "We haven''t caught wind of any other survivors. They went in as thieves, but they were also thorough enough to kill your people down to the last. They wanted you dead for whatever reason."

    "Are you saying they will hunt me down?" Sar''tara asked.

    "They may, should they learn that you live. Which they likely will. Every nation has its network of spies. We will be going to the forest for an investigation. Or what remains of it anyhow. Will you accompany us?"

    Sar''tara tried thinking for a moment. No other survivors. That had to be a lie. Or a mistake. Her sisters were skilled hunters. They would be hiding somewhere, perhaps trying to make sense of their situation just as she was. But hiding where? In a ruined forest? Sar''tara nodded, wiping the edges of her eyes. She needed to see everything. She needed to confirm that all of her sisters were truly gone. Kalin stood up and held a hand out to her. Sar''tara hesitated, staring at the hard and callused lines on his palm. She swallowed a jagged stone of fear and grasped his hand with her own. It was unexpectedly warm.

    "Your forest was under my jurisdiction. I owe you an apology, Sar''tara," Kalin said as he pulled her up. "You may well be the last of your kind. I promise to defend you to the best of my ability."

    The last Vashiri. She didn''t want to think about it. Prayed it wasn''t so. Even a Kreivan sister being alive would be all she needed. Even her Mother¡­

    Sar''tara''s fingers clutched Kalin''s hand tight. There was nothing but sincerity in his brown eyes. In that moment, everything intimidating about him fell away. Sar''tara felt a warmth come from the conviction of his words. An invisible barrier surrounded her. She wanted someone to trust. Wanted to rid herself of the feelings of loneliness. She was still afraid, but much less so. Kalin felt like a pillar she could lean on. But her last pillar, her own Mother, turned out to be a murderer. And Kalin was unrelated to her. He was a plains dweller. An outsider. One of the people she''d been taught to be wary of all her life.

    "Thank you," she whispered, eyes at her feet. She could only hope he turned out to be as kind as he seemed.

 Chapter 24: Alcor Ashes

    <u>Chapter 24 - Alcor Ashes</u>

    Kalin was relieved the conversation had progressed as smoothly as it did. He''d half expected Sar''tara to antagonize him. Her silent thank you made him smile. He thought his final words to be clich¨¦ and too storybook like. It was a tad embarrassing to think about.

    Meredith was pacing outside the tent. She blinked a few times, surprised to see Sar''tara following after him. "Get her a spare cloak," Kalin said. "A heavy one, preferably. Come find me at the command tent."

    The physic nodded and scrambled off. Sar''tara opened her mouth to call out but then closed it. She was smart enough to understand the hierarchy in power. She followed him through the encampment, staying beside him rather than behind. He could sense her unease at being surrounded by so many soldiers.

    "They all listen to you?" she asked, rubbing her bare arms.

    "Yes."

    "But some of them look to be older than you."

    "Age does not determine authority among us. That is something determined by birth. Or, you can work to attain a higher position."

    She nodded, fidgeting with her hands and glancing at everything.

    Rask was waiting before the command tent dressed in mail and leather on top. One hand rested on the pommel of the longsword at his waist. "Your Grace," he said with a formal bow, his voice deeper than usual as if he had only just awoken. "A young captain by the name Faren has set out. Under your orders I presume?"

    Kalin nodded. Sar''tara made a point of keeping him between her and Rask at all times. Rask noticed her discomfort and stepped further away. "Get her a bow¡ª" Kalin glanced at her arms, "shortbow should do for now. Mid-sized, perhaps between forty and sixty pound draw weight. Are there any other weapons you can use?" he asked, turning to her.

    "Knives," said Sar''tara. She eyed the blade at Rask''s waist. "Can I have a sword as well?"

    "Can you use one?"

    "Yes," she responded fiercely, nodding at the same time.

    Kalin narrowed his eyes, doubting those words. Where would she have learned anyway? "Get her a pair of sharpened daggers that the soldiers carry. We''ll worry about a sword later. Get me two hundred fast riders to set out immediately. We''re going to investigate the remains of the forest. Keep the camp in order and be wary of Tarmia''s movements while I''m gone."

    Rask nodded and turned away.

    Kalin entered his tent and put on his appropriate attire all while Sar''tara waited near the entrance. Meredith came along and wrapped a cloak around her shoulders. Her eyes glowed when receiving the object, lips curling up while feeling the cloak with her hands. "It¡¯s a little rough on the skin," Sar''tara said. "But warm. Quite."

    He nodded in return. It was heartwarming to watch her learn more and react to small things with such enthusiasm. A foot soldier came by and dropped off the necessary arms for her. She sucked in a breath, her chest puffing out. Sar''tara straightened her shoulders as if finding a surge of confidence from the weapons. Her slender fingers ran along the bend of her bow as if it were a shy maiden. She tested the string and then inspected the knot before strapping the bow and a quiver full of arrows to her back. Her hands worked with a timeless experience, everything being equipped in mere seconds. Then she inspected the daggers, satisfied, sheathed them again and tried tying the belt to her leg, struggling noticeably.

    "Around your waist," Kalin said as he approached to show her how. He flinched as her hands left the belt and she let him do all the work instead. He felt discomfort, staring at a woman''s bare belly as he reached around her waist to tighten the belt. He looked up at her face instead. An even worse mistake. Kalin lost himself in her forest green eyes and her subtle, shy smile. An embodiment of a sunlit morning beneath lush trees. The belt slipped from his fingers and rolled down her waist, getting stuck around her lean thighs.

    Sar''tara cocked her head to the side. "You don''t know how?"

    "They slipped, sorry." He turned away and waited for her to bring the belt back to waist level. She continued staring at him. She was waiting for him to pick up the belt. Kalin coughed. "Um, could you, you know¡­"

    "Oh," Sar''tara said in confused confirmation. She lifted the belt back and he bound it properly this time, working his hands fast. "Your people have strange customs, Kalin Serene."

    "More a matter of modesty than custom," he mumbled, painfully aware of the color in his cheeks. He was certain they were akin to beacons against his fair skin. He wondered what the forest woman was thinking of him.

    Sar''tara grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn back towards her. She put a hand to his forehead. "You face is colored. Are you unwell? Is it the cold?"

    Kalin''s mind screamed at him to back away. His legs stood still, disobeying. He knew his face was growing even hotter by the second. He eventually found the courage to swat her hand away. "It''s nothing," he said, bringing back the stone face he so often wore. Only after storming past her did he realize that he may have hurt her. He did not have the courage to apologize. And he hated himself for it.

    Two-hundred mounts were prepared on the outskirts of the encampment as requested. Rask selected the men that would be attending the investigation party. They awaited their leader. Sar''tara continued to walk alongside Kalin, making no mention of his earlier behaviour. She kept stealing glances, he realized. Is she still curious for my wellbeing? Her attention suddenly turned toward the investigation contingent, eyes lighting up. "Are those horses? Real horses? Do I get my own?" A childlike reaction. One that could only be described as adorable.

    "¡­ No. Riding without knowing how is dangerous. You''ll be riding with me," he replied, regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. The last thing he needed in that moment was for her to have her arms around him. Though, a part of him did want that.

    The sun had yet to rise completely. Kalin helped Sar''tara onto his grey horse. A curious smile remained on her lips as she swayed back and forth, inspecting both sides of the war beast. He mounted the steed. "Keep your arms around me," he said. "Move out!"

    ***

    Sar''tara held the man as if she were embracing her own Mother. She feared falling off and being trampled by the riders behind Kalin. She couldn''t fathom how it was that people had gained the loyalty of animals. Riding itself was a strange feeling. Moving without moving her legs. There was also the feeling of constantly going up and down. It wasn''t as comfortable and free as she had imagined. The landscape passed her by in a blur. Staring at the ground instead of looking forward induced a nausea. Sar''tara rested her chin on Kalin''s shoulder. His face felt hot against the side of her own. He had seemed offended when she asked if he was well. She thought it a matter of hierarchy amongst plains dwellers. "Please don''t push yourself if you are unwell," she whispered, still worrying.

    He seemed further discomforted. He tilted his head to the side to avoid touching her. Sar''tara felt a slight guilt. The customs of plains dwellers were difficult to understand.

    She tried closing her eyes and enjoying the wind passing through her hair. Her breath caught at the edge of her chest. The sound of thundering hooves was too similar to that of heavy boots chasing after her. The burning scene replayed in her mind. Kill her voices shouted. Sar''tara''s eyes snapped open, her arms squeezing Kalin''s waist. Her mouth opened. Turn back she almost said. She didn''t want to see the remains of her home. Didn''t want to know that it was gone. She was more content believing the forest still existed, was still as beautiful as it had always been.

    The sun was well into the sky when her home came into view. She unknowingly let out a surprised gasp upon seeing the charred remains. Tears clouded her vision. The Papillion Forest had been near leveled to the ground. All that remained of her memory were cracked stumps and charred black pillars with not a branch or leaf attached. Accompanying it was the bitter smell of ash. Kalin ordered the contingent to halt. He sent a few riders away to survey the surroundings for enemies. Sar''tara jumped off the grey horse quickly, stumbling as her feet hit the ground. The rest of the soldiers dismounted in an orderly fashion.

    "Search for survivors. Enemies, and tribeswomen alike," the duke ordered.

    Sar''tara sprinted forward, not caring for who or what she was stepping over. Her bare feet blackened as it stormed through the dark mess. Her mind was entirely blank. No sign of the Vashiri villages remained. Blackened bodies beyond recognition were scattered here and there, often in clusters. She was dimly aware of Kalin running after her, shouting. Every step she took caused a crunch beneath her feet. One thing stood out amongst the ashen remains. The thick and tall trunk of Lorian a few miles out. Mother¡­

    Sar''tara couldn''t believe it. Had Ny''Danis, the most powerful being she''d ever known, really been slain? She wanted to see her Mother again. Wanted to give Ny''Danis a chance to explain herself. If anyone knew what to do, it would be her. If anyone could hold Sar''tara and comfort her pained chest, it would be her Mother.

    Or she would stick her hand through it to end the pain entirely.

    Sar''tara was in a trance, running and stumbling towards the mother tree. Her breaths were labored. Her arms, weighted. She heard heavy crunching footsteps behind her. Chasing her. Sar''tara cried. Screamed. She was brought back to that night. Her vision clouded, her body exhausted. Everything was burning. Everything was hot. Fires surrounded her.

    "Sar''tara!" a voice called behind her. The voice of a man. They knew her name. They were out to kill her. Kill everyone she knew and loved. She kept running as they chased her. Kept running towards her Mother''s grove. Ny''Danis, protect me!

    But it wasn''t to be. She reached her Mother''s grove. No trees remained. No flowers. No lovely scents. No humming voices or songs. No naiads or dryads laughing along. The shallow stream running through the grove was filled with dark debris. Small footprints lay scattered around the mother tree. Sar''tara knew well that they belonged to nymphs. Nymphs that she was never fond of but now was missing so terribly. She longed to see their precious smiles, their childlike expressions and actions, their annoyingly redundant way of speaking. There was none of that. No one greeted her. No one begged her to come play with them. Nothing surrounded her. Nothing save for ash and dust.

    "Mother¡­" she breathed, limping towards Lorian. Half its branches had burnt and fallen. Its leaves and many fruit, nonexistent. The beautiful brown of the tree itself was black ¡ªsome parts charred, others marred with soot. Sar''tara fell to her knees before the mother tree. Her hands dragged along the rough surface of tree bark. She wailed aloud. Realization hit her again, this time with more force. She refused to believe it whilst held at Kalin''s camp. She had clung to a small and desperate hope. But everything she had loved and known was truly gone, leaving her all alone.

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    Sar''tara

    "Mother! Where¡­?" Sar''tara looked around wildly.

    I am here no longer, my beloved daughter. I thought I felt a pair of flickering lives escape the fires. I''m glad it was you. I held onto my conscience for so many days, unsure if you would return.

    "Mother¡­ I''m sorry. I finally became a Guardian. But¡­ all I did was run."

    No, child. You survived. The last of the Vashiri. The last of my daughters. My blood. I am the one who should be sorry. This¡­ all this was a mistake of my own. If only I''d intervened in the wars of my children. Perhaps if I''d left the forest more often. Perhaps if I hadn''t secluded myself here¡­ If I hadn''t killed my own daughters¡­ I''m so sorry, Sar''tara. I''m sorry you had to see that side of me. I''m sorry I betrayed everything you thought of me.

    Kiali was not the first to fall at my hand. All this time, I feared the past. Feared that one day, my daughters would make the same mistake I did long ago. In the end, that fear drove me to making even harsher mistakes. I loved all of you ¡ªevery one of my daughters that I gave birth to.

    But now, I think I lied to myself. A real mother would never do such things. The very same darkness that I helped vanquish long ago exposed the seed of darkness within my own heart. I wanted my daughters to be strong. Strong enough to one day face what I knew was bound to return. I was blinded. I let you kill each other. I forced you to compete with each other, creating only a limited amount of animals for you to hunt¡­ I knew no other methods for teaching you. I should have loved you all equally. I feared some would grow jealous of their fellow sisters. Not all of my daughters are capable of wielding my powers. So I constructed the Trials to weed out the unworthy. I¡­ I am ashamed of myself.

    Sar''tara wept. Ny''Danis gave no explanation. No words to put her worries to rest. Only a confession and an apology. Everything Sar''tara had known had all been wrong. "Mother¡­ I¡­" Even still, Sar''tara missed her Mother. "You raised us. You gave us warmth. I don''t know if I can forgive you. But I need you right now. Please. Please come back," she croaked.

    I can''t, Sar''tara. Listen to me. I don''t have much longer. I¡­ Don''t chase after our enemies. Even now, it weighs on my fading conscience to tell you this. The wicked desires of people can only be restrained for so long. Ages come and go. No age is free of strife. But you need not let the darkness of others swallow you. You need not face it at all. All your lives, I''ve tortured you. Tortured my daughters. Go and be free. Live for yourself. I hope that one day¡­ one day you will forgive me for having wronged you. Live proudly as a Vashiri should, Sar''tara.

    Live free? While those that had taken her home and family still breathed? "No, I¡­"

    Farewell, my dear and beloved daughter.

    Sar''tara continued crying. Lorian shimmered before her. For a moment, it was restored to its former beauty. And then it all faded. The massive trunk that still towered over her crumbled into dust. It mingled with the ashen remains of its surroundings, no longer seeming recognizable. Two peach pits remained where the tree once stood. The same two pits from the fruit she and Kiali had. The last remaining memory of Lorian and Ny''Danis. And Kiali. Sar''tara picked them up and gnawed at the edges of one. It was bitter beyond recognition.

    Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She suddenly remembered being chased by armored men. Sar''tara wheeled around and scrambled backwards, kicking at whoever was there. She half expected to see an iron plate with the image of a sun carved into it.

    It was just Kalin, with his short brown hair and eyes. He backed off, sensing her fright. She lunged towards her new pillar and held him by the waist, wailing. He placed a gentle hand on her head. It was just as warm as it''d been earlier. As warm as her Mother''s hands used to be. He won''t betray me, she convinced herself. The lonely child within her wanted someone to cling on to. Her adult mind didn''t believe it fully. It was afraid of the plains dwellers and wanted to run from them, causing a conflicting weight to settle in her chest.

    Kalin picked her up and carried her in his arms. It reminded her of being carried by Ny''Danis. She stared at the rough lines of the peach pits in her hands, imagining herself from before her memory of Ny''Danis became tainted. "If only you could fly¡­" she mused, sniffling.

    Kalin looked down at her curiously. His face was still red. She gave him a weak smile. "Will you plant those?" he asked.

    "I wish to."

    "Then I can have them planted in my gardens at Metsiphon."

    Sar''tara didn¡¯t know where that was. "Mets-a-fawn," she echoed. It sounded like a nice place. "Alright." The sun had long since set by the time the two of them reached the outskirts of the burnt forest. All this time, Kalin had not once complained about carrying her. His face remained colored all the way. She felt bad for having let him carry her for a whole half day when he seemed unwell. "Thank you," she said when finally let down.

    Some of the soldiers were whistling and saying strange things to which Kalin shot them a glare to force their silence. "Is everyone accounted for?" he asked. Torches had been lit though three moons ¡ªtwo halves and one a little more¡ª shone bright. A headcount was done to make sure all two-hundred soldiers returned.

    "Rider from the south!" someone shouted. Everyone''s focus turned in that direction. "Armed!" the voice called. The men remained silent, half of them mounted, the other half preparing their mounts but keeping one hand on the hilts of their blades or fingers sliding along bow strings. Kalin tried pushing to the forefront, but his experienced men made sure they remained between him and this unknown rider.

    "Sun upon the breastplate I think," someone else said.

    "Union rat," the soldiers spat.

    "Flames burn him!" others said.

    "And burn that Lord Sun they so blindly worship!"

    The word ''Union'' echoed in Sar''tara''s mind. She went on her toes for a better look just as the new rider stopped before the contingent and dismounted. Her hands closed but her breath also caught, anger and fear pulling on opposite ends. She recognized the sun carved into the man''s iron armor and the star sky cloak he wore. She tugged the ends of Kalin''s cloak. Her free hand reached for the daggers at her waist. Kalin motioned for her to remain behind him.

    "Identify yourselves. Are you Empire legionaries or Xenarians?" the Union soldier asked. Kalin revealed himself to the man. "Are you the leader here?" he snarled.

    A dozen lance tips ended just before the man''s throat. He froze, blinking hard. "That''s His Grace, Duke Serene to you, blind one," a soldier declared.

    The man relaxed as if sensing his life to no longer be in danger. "I meant no disrespect, Your Grace," the man began. "If you''re here, all the better. I was meant to deliver this to you anyway," he said, holding out a rolled cloth like object.

    Kalin snatched it from him and unraveled it as the man stepped back, open palms in the air. The Xenarian soldiers shuffled, weapons still pointed. Sar''tara looked over Kalin''s shoulder. She frowned at the dark markings upon the object, not making any sense of what it was. "A map?" he asked. "You deliver to me a map? Have your papers been mixed by any chance?"

    "Not at all, grace. It is an updated map of Illusterra."

    Kalin looked it over again. His eyes narrowed. His shoulders shook and his arms trembled. He exhaled through his teeth. "Who ordered this? No. Who gave you the rights to do this?"

    "His Brilliance, the Lord Sun, of course. None but he has such authority."

    "Do you understand the weight of your words, messenger?" Kalin hissed. "You say your lord has the rights to naming a territory within Xenarian borders? Alcor Ashes? You would name this forest that?"

    "Indeed. It is best that what once was here, remains forgotten, Your Grace. Of course, the ashes will remain as a reminder to all darkspawn scattered across Illusterra. Or hadn''t you heard? The Papillion Forest was home to witches and others of unsavory character and belief. Had there been any decent people residing within, they no longer exist now. Unfortunate collateral, though I doubt anyone decent did live here."

    Kalin tore the map to pieces. Before throwing them away. He stepped aside, revealing Sar''tara entirely. "And what does a survivor of the forest have to say to this man?"

    The messenger''s eyes went wide again. He drew his blade. "Duke Serene! You give shelter to a witch?" he asked as his sword was raised above his head. An iron pommel struck his temple and forced him to the ground, his weaponry confiscated in mere seconds. Two soldiers each held one arm and a third tore his own shirt to gag the messenger''s mouth.

    Kalin drew his own sword. He gripped it by the blade and held it out to Sar''tara. "Meager justice for your people. They say vengeance is a fool''s errand. I don''t believe that for a second. Some of the greatest stories I read as a child were stories of vengeance. That is how our world runs. Vengeance and justice are two sides of the same coin. And without justice, our world is bleak and full of horrors. Whether you forgive him or not depends on you alone. I''ve only given you my opinion."

    Sar''tara looked into the eyes of the man as he screamed through the gag. They were pleading. Moonlight seemed to sink into his dark pupils rather than bounce off. Tears began to well. At the same time, she felt her fingers wrap around the sword hilt offered to her. He was feeling fear. The same fear she had felt. She felt no remorse. He needed to die. Whoever else had burned her home, needed to die. The sword went up. Sar''tara closed her eyes. She remembered her Mother''s words. Don''t chase after our enemies. The sword came back down. Her fingers slipped from the hilt. It fell to the dew covered grass. "I can''t," she said.

    Kalin sighed. "Then you have a kind heart." He turned to his soldiers. "Be done with it. Strip him of his armor. Good iron is expensive. Burn the body and throw it into the ashes."

    "No!" Sar''tara screamed. "I-I want you to let him go."

    "Sara, that can''t be done. He''ll report back to the city. Bitter words aren''t enough to start a fight over, but he''s seen you now. They''re going to come after you."

    Sara? "I understand all of that. You''ve done more than enough for me, Kalin Serene. It is time I went my separate way now." Sar''tara needed the messenger alive. Needed to know where he would return. I''m sorry, Mother. I can''t allow these people to live free. If not for us, then others they may choose to destroy as they did us. This is my will. My freedom.

    "I promised to protect you! And the peach trees¡­"

    "Some other time," she said, offering a worn smile. Her chest ached. She wanted to accept his generosity. But she also couldn''t risk the pain of betrayal again. She needed to leave.

    Kalin sighed. His shoulders slumped. He looked more disappointed than upset. Really disappointed. "Let him go," he ordered.

    "But Your Grace," multiple soldiers cried in unison.

    "Let him go!" he said again, dragging a finger along his throat and quickly gesturing towards the horizon. Sar''tara scratched her head, wondering what the gesture meant.

    The soldiers did as they were told. The messenger, having regained the rights to control his own arms, snatched them away from those that held him. "This isn''t over, Duke Serene. We burnt a forest and you could do nothing but slay a few dozen of us. His Brilliance has been seeking an excuse and now we have it. You''ve been seen harboring a darkspawn! It matters not if she leaves you now."

    "A wiser man would save those words for after he has reached safety," Kalin said nonchalantly, crossing his arms. "I can still rescind the order, blind one."

    "But you won''t," the man mocked. His hateful glare passed over Sar''tara. "Kalin Serene, the wall around Xenaria. I see a crack in that wall." The man stormed off and mounted his horse.

    Sar''tara could see the conflict in the Kalin''s eyes. They contemplated killing the messenger right then. She could tell that a war was about to begin. A war had already occurred because of her actions once. She wasn''t going to let it happen a second time. She wasn''t going to let lives be lost due to her actions again. Sar''tara cupped Kalin''s cheeks in both hands and kissed him on the forehead to show her gratitude. "Thank you a third time," she whispered. Don''t leave, the child inside screamed.

    She walked away in the same direction the Astral Union''s messenger rode off towards. She nocked an arrow on her bow and aimed high, her experienced muscles measuring and estimating the strength and range of this new weapon. She waited for the rider to be away from the forest''s borders. He didn''t change directions. She had the information she needed. Twang! Sar''tara watched the arrow rise. Watched it soar through the night sky, whistling. Watched it descend. Then watched it pierce her target. What followed was a shrill cry. It was too far for the average person to see. But her hawk like vision saw it even within the darkness of the night. The arrow tip had gone through the back of the messenger.

    The soldiers behind her whistled again, cheering as they saw the messenger fall off his horse. They praised her. The only person that didn¡¯t was Kalin, his mouth agape. "I couldn''t kill him in that moment," Sar''tara explained. "I will attain the justice that I seek. I know now the direction in which he was heading. The direction from where he came. I will hunt down the men of this Astral Union. I, Sar''tara Vashiri, vow to avenge my sisters and my Mother. Farewell, Kalin Serene. I¡­ I might return one day, when I am finally free. When that happens, please take me to this Metsafawn place you mentioned."

    He would surely offer his kindness again. Perhaps when she was done with her burdens, she could try making a new life for herself in this new world with Kalin as her friend. Try trusting others again.

    Sar''tara frowned. He didn¡¯t seem to be paying attention. He was still awestruck, his expression like that of a young Vashiri girl seeing her elder sisters in action for the first time. Sar''tara looked to the soldiers behind him. "What are you all doing? Good iron is expensive for your people, is it not? The kill is mine. Consider this a payment for all the help you have given me."

    The huntress bowed. It only seemed appropriate. Then she turned away and walked into the night.

 Chapter 25: Thousand Sun City

    <u>Chapter 25 - Thousand Sun City</u>

    Kalin finally managed to collect himself after Sar''tara had already gone a few dozen paces. His soldiers moved at her orders, riding to collect the Union messenger''s belongings. He shook his head. He was at first shocked by the forest woman''s skill with the bow. The way she fired with such untainted grace and confidence. He hadn''t seen anything like it. But was she planning on sieging the Thousand Sun City all on her own? Or did she want to hunt down the Union one man at a time? "If it was that easy, I''d have done it myself many years ago," he muttered. "Make camp. We''re resting here for the night!" Darkspawn this. Darkspawn that. The Union went around labelling anything they disliked as an enemy to the people.

    "Your Grace, aren''t we returning to the encampment?" a young soldier asked.

    "No. We''re going to take a stroll by the Thousand Sun City," he said with a sarcastic smile. "Send a messenger to Commander Rask and tell him we will be delayed on our return by a few days."

    His orders were carried out without further question. Kalin ran after Sar''tara. He gripped her by the arm and roughly turned her around, her smooth hair flowing just as the dark cloak around her shoulders. "Come along. I''ll bring you before their gates myself."

    "No. I cannot be further indebted¡ª"

    "I''ve never said you were. I swore to defend you. You are my responsibility," he said, his gaze firm.

    Sar''tara opened her mouth to protest further but reconsidered. She looked to the ground. "Your soldiers. Are they coming along too?" she asked softly.

    "Yes, of course."

    She let out a long exhale, feigning reluctance before finally agreeing. She was obviously grateful and relieved for the help. Renewed confidence burned in her eyes. She truly believed two hundred riders would help her attain her vengeance. That confidence would soon dissolve into nothing, Kalin knew. She would learn the meaning of futility when she laid her eyes upon the Thousand Sun City. The same futility he felt when even thinking of its absurdly high walls. He hated the Union with every fibre of his being. But there was little that could be done about their existence. Sar''tara deserved justice. But she didn''t deserve to waste her time chasing it. She needed to know what it was she was up against.

    The soldiers set up small campfires. They hadn''t brought adequate equipment to construct tents. The horses were tied to each other to keep them from straying. It would be a cold night spent wrapped in cloaks. Sar''tara sat near a fire, warming her hands. Kalin sat down beside her, chewing on stale dried fruit leftovers in his cloak. He heard her stomach growl. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He handed her the remains of what he had left. "If you want, we can return to the encampment."

    "No," she said, fists clenched. "I can ignore my hunger for one night."

    Regardless of her words, she swallowed the morsel whole. Kalin wasn''t certain of whether it''d been peach or apricot.

    "The others. Why do they not speak to me?" Sar''tara asked.

    "Should they?"

    "I would get to know the people I am staying with. The people that will fight alongside and die for me tomorrow."

    "All two hundred¡­?"

    She nodded fiercely. The fierceness lessened as her stomach growled again.

    "Right," Kalin said, stretching the word. "I think you should get some sleep, Sara. No one''s dying tomorrow."

    "Oh? You have that much confidence?" She frowned. "Sara. Why do you call me that? I don''t like it."

    "My apologies. I thought¡­" He scratched his beard. Thought what, exactly?

    "Thought what?" she asked, leaning in, eyes narrowing.

    He flinched as she repeated the same words in his head. "Nothing." Nothing at all. "I''ll have a fire made for you away from everyone. Lie down there."

    "Why can I not lay with everyone else?"

    Kalin didn''t answer. He was too tired to start reciting explanations. It was embarrassing to even speak of such things with a grown woman. Sar''tara hung her head low. She left as she was told. Sometime later, he went over to her to make sure she''d wrapped her cloak around herself appropriately. It didn''t cover the length of her body, everything below her ankles still sticking out. Kalin unpinned his own cloak and held it over the fire for several minutes before laying it on top of her.

    He sat still until the campfire burned out late into the night. He dozed off in an upright position a few times, but a chill breeze always brought him back to his senses. Dawn eventually came. The soldiers, used to waking up early to do drills, roused themselves from sleep. Kalin rubbed his stinging eyes. He nudged Sar''tara awake. She groaned like a child before slowly rolling over. She''d been feigning sleep he realized. He recalled making similar movements as a child to fool his nursing maid. White lines marked her cheeks. She had been crying the night away. Pain from losing her family most likely.

    "You didn''t sleep," she noted.

    Kalin nodded. Her lips bent as if she''d taken offense, but she said nothing. The soldiers prepared to set out, eager to return soon to a hot meal back at camp. Kalin mounted Silenus and helped Sar''tara on as well. She had dark lines under her eyes. Her mood remained grim the entire way. He wanted to see her smile again. "Is something the matter?" He regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. Of course something was wrong. She''d lost her family and home and was now preparing to take vengeance because of it.

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    "No," a hoarse voice replied. It made Kalin wonder just how long she''d been crying for.

    He barked an order and the contingent moved out. Their destination would not come into proper view for another day and a half of hard riding. Sar''tara would spend another night crying more than sleeping, and Kalin hardly rested himself.

    The skies were painted a desolate grey when the towering walls of the Sun City could at last be seen from atop a large incline. Silenus slowed to a trot. Kalin held up a hand, not wanting to get closer lest he risk running into Union patrols. Behind him, Sar''tara gasped. Her warm breath tickled his ear. "What is that¡­?"

    ***

    "That¡­ That is the Thousand Sun City. Home to the Astral Union. Estimated population, just under two million. More than a fourth is reportedly military personnel, whether rabble militia, or trained warriors. A place with an iron fisted ruler known as The Lord Sun. It is also home to the Thousand Sun Sword, a relic from the War of Ashes."

    Kalin''s knuckles cracked as his hands tightened around the reins of his horse. "Thousand Sun Sword," Sar''tara echoed. She''d heard mention of the blade from Ny''Danis'' stories. A weapon wielded by the first of those called Flame Bearers.

    "The blade hasn''t been seen in centuries, giving rise to rumors that it has been stolen. I wouldn''t attack that city even if it had been stolen. Those walls are impregnable. And there''s more layers further in with a perfectly constructed citadel at the very center."

    Sar''tara couldn''t help but stare wide eyed at the behemoth before her. She was seeing it from a distance but she had no doubt that the city was somewhat similar in size to the Papillion Forest.

    "Long have I dreamt of seeing this city ablaze and their tyranny ended," Kalin continued. "Alas, a single man cannot burn a city alone. They''ve been a thorn in our side since before my father''s time. Legions roam our lands freely, conducting inquisitions at will. Do you see now why they cannot be opposed? This is where you were trying to go two nights afore. I despair even thinking of this place. I didn''t bring you here to feel that, Sar''tara. I brought you here to show you reality. I will help you with your vengeance in any way I can. But¡­ here and now, your vengeance truly is a fool''s errand."

    It was magnificent. Her eyes watered. Tears of both awe and fear. "Two mill-eon people. How much is that?"

    "Much more than what you''re imagining."

    "This¡­ Sun, you said? Did it order the burning of my home?" she asked, confused.

    "Not ''it''. The Lord Sun is a title given to their leader. He is a person. Despite the numerous spies we''ve sent, his identity remains a secret to us still. The Union was once known as the Bright Star Hegemony. Even before that, this place had been a small vassal state of Xenaria. Xenaria''s queens thought little of the changes over the decades. But as time passed, their walls grew. Whispers of their ''righteous'' rulers were heard. Mass immigration ensued and with it, their army grew and their influence spread. This here, is the end result. They''re still hungry for more, but right now, the power structure is in a delicate balance between Xenaria, the Empire, this city, and the Illeyan Alliance to the south."

    Sar''tara tried processing that information all at once. Half of it went over her head. But Kalin had been talking of it with such enthusiasm. Something he seemed very knowledgeable at. She wanted to know more. Wanted to know the workings of the foreign world around her. Xenaria, she knew, was her current place of residence. The rest were new names.

    She also realized that vengeance would be more difficult to obtain than she''d thought. Not because of Kalin''s words, but because of what her own eyes were seeing. A moat surrounding walls more than thrice the height of Lorian. The only entrance, a drawbridge, remained firmly shut. Her piercing vision caught sight of armed men no larger than ants walking back and forth upon the walls, keeping watch just as Guardians do.

    Sar''tara bit her lip. She now had a valid excuse to stay with Kalin longer. The lonely child inside of her won out against the more cautious voice. Just this once, it said. Just this once, let me trust another.

    The sun peeked out from behind a grey sky. What was a dull fortress now came to life. Bare white walls shimmered, showing gold. Sar''tara felt immense hatred for those residing within the city. But the city itself was beautiful. Far in the distance, the high pointed peaks of the citadel glowed like stars. Their tips absorbed and reflected the blinding light in the sky in a thousand different directions.

    "I want to see inside," she said aloud.

    "I did too, once. The Thousand Sun City. A wonder from the outside." Kalin reached out and cupped the entire city in his hand. "A place of justice and wealth. All at the tips of your fingers. A piece of solid gold that renews its brilliance each clear skied morning. Enter and declare your allegiance, and it''s all yours. You lived in a forest, Sar''tara. You lived under shadow, did you not?"

    "Yes. But it was beautiful. At day, there were songbirds. There were flowers and green leaves. The pockets of light we did receive only made to accentuate the beauty," she said, finding her voice to be cracking. Reminiscing tore the fragile fabric placed upon an open wound. "At night, the forest glowed different colors through the blessings granted us by our Mother. Everything was kept vibrant, never truly asleep."

    "This city is the exact opposite," Kalin said. "It is a drop of honey placed before a dark cave within which a hungry spider awaits. The high walls you see. They are high to the point the citizens barely see a glimmer of sunlight each day. The peaks of the citadel may seem like stars from here, but once inside, that starlight becomes nonexistent. Once you enter, you don''t come out. Merely swearing allegiance isn¡¯t enough. They harass you with question after question. They look into your past, caring not whether if it is something you''ve tried to escape." He let out a sigh. "They then take away any sense of freedom you have," he finished.

    Sar''tara could sense the anger in his voice. He hated them, though for an entirely different reason than her. He maintained a level tone regardless of it. Kalin seemed to value a person''s freedom greatly. Sar''tara admired that. He was a leader who cared about those beneath him. Something she wished Ny''Danis could have done. "They take everything¡­ so the only option remaining is to become a guardian of the city to once more see the sun?"

    "You''re quick on the uptake," the duke praised.

    She''d do well as the lady of the house a soldier whispered. Snickers and giggles were passed down the ranks. Sar''tara felt Kalin''s muscles tense. His hands tightened around the reins of the grey horse. She raised her hand to his heart, resting the side of her head on his shoulder. She could feel his rapid beats through the thick leather and chainmail he wore. "It''s alright. I won''t go there. Not yet¡­" she assured him, assuming his tenseness to be caused by worry. Her actions brought about further whistling from the riders around and she sensed Kalin heating up further. Confused, Sar''tara brought her hands down again and firmly held on to him as he ordered the contingent''s return to camp.

    Become a guardian to see the sun. She hugged Kalin harder as the horse galloped along. This time, she feared losing sight of herself rather than falling over. She needed something to cling on to. Sar''tara wondered what difference there truly was between her and the soldiers of the shining city they''d left behind. Their fates were similar.

    But not aligned.

 Chapter 26: Hunting a Blade of Subtlety

    <u>Chapter 26 - Hunting a Blade of Subtlety</u>

    Right foot before the left. Feet one foot apart. Body tilted to the side to reduce target surface area.

    Sar''tara felt uncomfortable. Her hand ran along the thick single braid that Meredith had done for her earlier in the morning. Plains dwellers fought with such precise methods. It felt impractical, and difficult to maneuver. Kalin had insisted she tie her hair in a bun so it wouldn''t interfere during combat. Sar''tara refused. She liked keeping a single braid, and it was how most elder sisters had kept their hair during hunts. At the least, the use of bows and arrows were not much different. But the types of bows were many. Crossbows, shortbows, recurves ¡ªwhich had become her favorite¡ª and longbows. Longbows were useful with their far reaching range. Crossbows were too complicated and ugly. Very ugly. There was no beauty in using one.

    "Your Grace, are you certain about this?" a young beardless man asked. The one-handed sword he held seemed an extension of his body, as if he''d been born with it and had used it since he was a child. He still looked somewhat like a child.

    "Are you questioning me, Captain Faren?"

    "More so doubting myself, Your Grace. The sudden promotion¡­ and now this?"

    "So you are questioning me."

    The young man spoke no further. Sar''tara looked into his eyes and tried to read his emotions. Fear. Not afraid of her. Rather, afraid like a little girl just learning to use her bow. As if she would snap it and anger her elder sisters. Faren was afraid of snapping Sar''tara. Of hurting her. She smirked. Shooting the Union messenger had garnered her respect, its rumors spreading throughout the encampment quickly. Clearly not enough respect. Faren thought himself the predator in this strange game. She bent her knees just as Kalin had taught her. The wooden training sword in her hands felt just as heavy as a real one.

    "Any time now," Kalin said.

    Faren took hesitant but measured steps towards her. He was looking past her rather than at her. Sar''tara lunged and swung just as she''d been taught the night before. Faren brought his own training blade up to block. It was haphazard. He still refused to look at her. He had strength enough to block despite barely trying. Sar''tara couldn''t tell if he was trying to humiliate her.

    A few others had drawn close to watch with a side-eye.

    Sar''tara drew her hand back and swung wide, putting as much of her strength and weight into the blow. She saw Faren''s left hand twitch. He could have brought it up behind the blade of his sword to increase his defensive strength. But instead, it stayed glue to his side. Only the hand holding the sword came up. The weight of Sar''tara''s attack swatted Faren''s weapon away. She struck him lightly at the side of his head and unexpectedly, he fell over.

    "I win," she declared. The victory left a bitter taste in her mouth. Faren wasn''t trying at all. She couldn''t understand why. Nor could she understand why Kalin had asked someone younger than her to be a teacher.

    The duke sighed. "I would threaten you with a demotion," he began, "but by the way you''ve been acting, you''d probably welcome it. Were the Empire soldiers you faced yesterday this weak, Captain?"

    "No, Grace," Faren said. He began rising to his feet. "I¡ª"

    "You what?" Kalin''s sudden shout surprised the young man and he slipped on the wet morning grass, falling on his rear once more. Mocking laughter from his peers followed. A glare from their lord shut them up. "Face her appropriately. She''s more than capable. You are a soldier of House Serene. You should learn to judge your opponents more carefully."

    "I can''t bring myself to hurt the lady. Also, I can''t look at her without... you know¡­"

    "The lady?"

    "Everyone else has been saying how you and her¡­ Is it wrong?"

    Kalin sighed again. There''d been another rumor Sar''tara had heard whispers of. This one was kept from her, strangely. Like when I''d come up with ''Kiali the Cruel''. It made her think these rumors were negative, made her feel more alone. Despite the supposed respect she''d garnered, everyone but Kalin and Meredith kept their distance from her.

    Kiali¡­ Sar''tara regretted ever coming up with such a name. In some ways, Kiali had been kinder than even Freya. She imagined what it would have been like adapting to this new environment with them. Learning new things ¡ªnew ways of fighting, new foods to eat, perhaps even riding a horse with them¡­

    "Don''t go believing things you hear from secondary sources," Kalin told Faren. "Do they not teach you this at the garrison academy? Misinformation can go a long way to undermine an army''s cohesion."

    "Er, yes. But it isn''t exactly secondary¡­"

    "Start over. Keep your eyes on her as you would any opponent. Don''t let her wide swings go unpunished. You''re the teacher here. Remember that. Sar''tara, get back in position."

    She nodded. Faren still held that same hesitant expression. ''Wide swings'' Kalin said. They felt natural. It felt natural to swing as hard as possible. But the strange grace with which the swordsmen of the plains dwellers fought showed otherwise. The sword was as much a defensive tool as it was a weapon. To swing wide was to expose her bare body to harm just as a thick tree trunk was used for target practice by the young girls of the Selharr. Sar''tara was glad to learn this new art. It was like being a child once more.

    Only, she was no longer in the Papillion Forest. She would never again be there. Never again be among her sisters.

    Kalin announced the beginning of the spar. Faren, despite his hesitant expression lunged forward. Sar''tara recognized his hand movements. They were similar to what Kalin had shown her earlier. He meant to strike with a thrust. Sar''tara moved to deflect. The thrust never came. Faren disappeared from her field of vision. She thought that he''d slipped again when she felt something strike the rear of her ankles. Her feet slid forward of their own accord and Sar''tara found herself sitting on her rear, baffled.

    "I win!" Faren announced with an easy going smile.

    She rubbed her ankles, frowning. She now knew why he thought himself the predator. The hunter. A thin smile spread along her lips as her eyes narrowed. She slowly stood up. Let''s see who the hunter really is.

    "Again," Sar''tara declared.

    Faren glanced towards Kalin who nodded his approval. The fighters returned to their starting positions. Sar''tara bent her knees once more ¡ªthis time much lower. She resorted to the primal fighting style she''d tried using when fighting against the mist soldiers of her Mother''s Trials. The plains dweller style was unsuited for her. It was too complicated.

    Kalin announced the beginning. Faren stood still, ready in his own way. His eyes still held hesitation. Something about it seemed genuine this time. She lunged towards him, going even lower than her starting position before swinging her sword upward whilst springing up with her legs. Faren didn¡¯t block as she expected. He simply backed off. He couldn''t block an attack that came from directly beneath him.

    Sar''tara exhaled a heavy breath. The attack would be difficult to land if her opponent merely dodged. Dodging was also less tiring than attacking. She needed to find another strategy. Sensing her brief lull, Faren rushed her.

    Sar''tara charged at the same time, making sure he wouldn''t have the opportunity to catch her with another feint. His attack came faster than hers. She expected as much, barely blocking the strike aimed at her head. The weight of it made her arm buzz. Sar''tara was pushed back further, parrying and dodging to the best of her ability. Faren wasn''t completely serious. He was still afraid of hurting her. His arms slowed ever so slightly with his relentless assault.

    Sar''tara used the opportunity to step in and deliver a knee to his gut, causing him to reel back. She pressed forward, swinging as precisely as she could imagine, making sure she wasn''t swinging too wide. Apparently she still was. The flat of Faren''s blade caught her right hand. Sar''tara yelped and dropped her weapon. In an instant, Faren''s sword turned down. He held it in a backhand grip, the round wooden pommel reaching for her temple. She ducked low, her primal instincts forcing her to reach behind her back for the daggers at her waist. She''d barely finished drawing one, eyeing his knee, when a wooden sword stopped short of her neck.

    "I win," Faren declared once more. He didn''t look particularly tired. His breaths were only slightly hurried. He glanced at the dagger in her hands. "You weren''t actually going to kill me, were you?"

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    She shrugged, wearing a smile. "Probably not." She almost did though. Almost let survival instinct consume her rationale. Her fingers trembled. Sar''tara''s mouth grew dry as she recalled being attacked by men with swords. The searing pain on her back. "Again?" she asked, standing up. She relaxed her breathing. She needed to conquer her fears if she was ever going to fight her enemies.

    "No," Kalin said. "Let''s take a break." He began walking away, motioning for her to follow. They made their way to the command tent, the armored guards standing before it looking as emotionless as they always were. Kalin filled a cup using a pitcher of water and handed it to her. "I know what the eyes of a killer look like. Next time, you train without those daggers on you."

    Sar''tara nodded. She took a sip and swished it around.

    "I''m not disappointed. Just keep in mind that you''re sparring, not fighting for your life."

    Another nod. She handed the cup back, fingers still shaky. She jerked her hand back and pretended to examine her dagger. Kalin looked over the papers left at a small table. There were hushed voices at the tent''s entrance that made both of them turn their heads. Someone entered shortly after; a man wearing a dark grey cloak with a bow and quiver strapped to his back. His attire marked him as a scout, Sar''tara had come to learn. She caught from him the sharp smell of fresh blood. He only had minor stains upon his clothing. He was breathing heavily, almost unnaturally she thought. As if faking his exhaustion.

    The man''s eyes flickered to her and then back to Kalin. "Er, Your Grace, I thought you''d be alone. Is this a bad time?" he asked. His quick words did not match his supposed heavy breathing.

    "Flames! Scorch you and your stupid rumors! I can''t believe grown men would give in to gossiping. No, it isn''t a bad time. Speak quickly. What is it?"

    The man nodded, glancing at Sar''tara again. He stepped in closer to Kalin. "The Tarmians¡­ they¡­ It''d be faster to¡­ show you," he said, fumbling through the large pockets sewn into his cloak.

    Sar''tara frowned. All of a sudden, he was speaking as if out of breath. Kalin seemed to make nothing of it, instead inspecting the man''s attire. "You''re a scout? How is it you have blood on your clothes? Did you catch a stray enemy by any chance?"

    "No, that''s," the man began. He pulled out a white cloth folded in many parts. From where she stood, Sar''tara could see what seemed like a hilt poking out from the end of the cloth. Kalin couldn''t see it, standing directly in front of the scout. "Ah! Here it is," the man said.

    The duke tilted his head. His eyes narrowed at the cloth in the messenger''s hands. The cloth tilted. A dagger slid out. The messenger caught it with one hand. A deep scowl settled on Kalin''s face. He began stepping back, his hand reaching for the sword at his waist. He wasn''t fast enough.

    Sar''tara watched the scene play out in slow. She lunged just as the scout prepared to stick Kalin with the dagger. One hand caught the scout''s and the other plunged her own dagger into the man''s side. Sar''tara pulled out and stabbed again, growling as she did so. The would be killer turned towards her before falling to the ground whilst clutching his wounds.

    Kalin stared wide eyed, one hand resting on the hilt of his undrawn sword. "Thank you," he managed after a few seconds of blinking.

    "What was that about knowing the eyes of a killer?" she asked, smirking. She looked at the writhing scout. No emotions registered. He threatened her benefactor and she''d reacted accordingly, defending Kalin just as she would have done for any of her sisters.

    The duke coughed. "Knowing them and reacting to them are two different things," he grumbled, regaining his posture. He looked down at his attacker. It wasn''t long until the man''s heart stopped beating. "Guards!"

    Two stoic men entered into the tent. Their faces finally showed emotion ¡ªthat of surprise. "An assassin. Strip him." They did as they were told, removing the stolen clothes. The man''s bare torso was revealed to them, two holes at the side still leaking dark red. On the other side, a scorpion tattoo.

    "One of the Wickar," Kalin spat. "Kazir''s hounds. As expected. Alert the camp. Wickar assassins are known to hunt in groups. The worst part of all this is that we''ll never know which of our scouts were slain until we do a head count later." One of the guards left, shouting once outside. The other remained, sword in hand, staying at his lord''s side. "Kazir is a cunning commander. If I know anything about him, he''ll attack us now assuming the assassination attempt to have either succeeded, or at least succeeded in causing chaos in the camp. Assuming he himself isn''t slithering about somewhere here."

    Wickar assassins. Sar''tara racked her brain. The term was unfamiliar. They were hunters of sorts. Hunters of people.

    Kalin marched out, Sar''tara trailing alongside his guard. He began shouting orders. Rask quickly came and left again, relaying orders of preparation. The encampment roared to life. Soldiers filed out and began lining up as armsmen handed out spears and shields. The order at which such large numbers moved and with such cohesion was astonishing.

    Sar''tara spotted another in scout attire. He seemed bewildered at first, but then began following similar movements. He tried hard to blend in. It was obvious. She stepped away from Kalin, darting from side to side. The assassin spotted her and Sar''tara walked towards the man normally with a bright smile, her hands clutching the hilts of daggers behind her back. He recognized her feeble attempt for what it was and bolted.

    Sar''tara heard Kalin shout her name. She ignored it. She wanted to be recognized. Needed to be recognized. If one could attain a high position within this society through hard work, then she would do just that. She needed a high enough position within the army to command thousands of her own. Vengeance for her dead sisters was not out of her grasp. She couldn''t always rely on Kalin.

    Sar''tara also couldn''t let the deceitful assassins near him. She needed him alive. He was her benefactor. And her¡­ friend? She couldn''t recall when she''d started thinking of him like that.

    The fleeing assassin stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a few quick whistles. Two more men disguised as scouts appeared, chasing after her. The first man stopped running and turned around to face Sar''tara, brandishing a strange hooked sword that she had never seen before. She was suddenly caught inside a triangle formation. The assassins veiled their faces. Sar''tara crouched low, shifting her feet and attempting to keep her eyes on at least two of her foes.

    "She''s a forest survivor," one of the Wickar said, his accent thick, much like her own. "Inform the master."

    An assassin broke off and continued running. Sar''tara thought to chase him but decided against it. Two opponents were hard enough. She lunged towards one, briefly catching a glimpse of Kalin and his guard running towards her. The assassins exchanged hand gestures with each other. They dodged the short range of her daggers and danced around her. Played around her. Treated her like a fledgling fawn trying to break out of an encirclement of wolves. They wanted her alive she realized. Their eyes constantly flickered past her. Kalin. He was still the target.

    Sar''tara turned to warn him as he rushed in, sword drawn. A gloved hand clamped down on her open mouth and something sharp and cold bit into her throat. She dropped her weapons, limbs rigid and frozen, standing still at the mercy of her assailant. Her warning cries came out as muffled sounds. The second assassin turned to face Kalin and his guard. The duke hesitated, seeing her held captive. His guard, however, did not. The priorities of the armored man was his lord and his lord only.

    The assassin narrowly sidestepped a thrust from the guard. He caught the guard''s sword with the hook of his own blade and twisted it out of the man''s grip. The guardsman, unarmed, stood wide eyed before the assassin. He began backing off too late as his hands reached for the daggers at his waist. Kalin stepped in to save his own soldier. It was the opportunity the assassin had been waiting for. He tried a similar disarming move. The duke didn''t fall for it. He rushed in past the killer''s blade hit him with his shoulder, forcing the assassin several steps back.

    "The Wickar are blademasters, Sar''tara. You misjudged," Kalin said, his tone level. His eyes had held a faint glimmer of fear when seeing her captive. None of that was now present. His cold gaze was fixed on the opponent before him. "Do you think you can take me alone now that I have a sword in hand?"

    "Disarm yourself, Lord Serene. Or the woman dies."

    "She''d be dead already if you wanted that. Is that not why your third man has fled? You know she comes from the burnt forest."

    "We take her with us regardless."

    Sar''tara swallowed. Take her? To another unfamiliar place and away from Kalin? She tried not to let panic show on her face.

    "For what?" Kalin asked. "The forest no longer has any magical Artifacts." The assassin shifted about. Kalin was winning the argument. He looked past him and at the second man also wearing scout''s garb. Sar''tara met his eyes. It filled her with confidence. "What you have in your hands is not a frightened hare," he began just as Sar''tara bit down on the hand covering her mouth. The iron against her throat eased just slightly as her captor winced in pain. She wedged an arm in between and tangled her feet with that of the assassin, sending them both down. He fell first, the back of his head striking the ground. She fell on top, her hands finding one of her daggers, the tip of which was soon plunged into the assassin''s chest, staining the scout''s garb with more blood than it already had. "But rather a lioness," Kalin finished saying.

    The last remaining assassin fled. Blademaster though he may be, he no longer fancied his chances. Sar''tara gave chase. Out of instinct, her dagger left her hand. The flying blade grazed her prey''s calf. It was enough to cause a stumble. The man tripped, face first, and slid forward on the wet grass. She leapt on top of him, her weight keeping him pinned down. She grabbed hold of both arms to ensure he wouldn''t try anything funny. She felt no resistance from him. His body had gone limp.

    "Let him go," Kalin said. "It''s pointless."

    Sar''tara didn''t understand. She did as she was told, leaping away quickly and keeping her guard up. Kalin kicked the assassin over. His eyes had rolled to the back of his head. He was foaming at the mouth. "Poison?" she asked.

    "Yes. They''d rather die than be caught."

    She frowned. So long as one was alive, there always remained an opportunity to fight. But these disguised killers killed themselves when defeat was imminent. "Why do they want to kill you?"

    "I am one of Xenaria''s bastions."

    "That is all?"

    "The Empire of Tarmia is an expansionary nation. They seek to extend their borders by conquering others. If I''m gone, their task becomes easier. Though, they''ve only become large enough to be called an empire within the last decade."

    Sar''tara thought for a moment. The nation of Xenaria was Kalin''s home. A home he was the guardian of. She wanted to remain at his side. She had no one else to lean on. No one else to care for her. The Papillion Forest was gone. She needed to accept that. The very thought sent sharp ice through her chest.

    Xenaria was her home now. If she was going to be a leader in Xenaria, a guardian of the nation, this Tarmian Empire would be her enemy as well. She would bear a responsibility to protect Xenaria. Protect Kalin and his people from all threats, whether they be the Union or someone else. Her thoughts were interrupted by horns blaring in the distance.

    "Tarmia''s war horn," Kalin said, looking at her. "It''s not your war, Sar''tara."

    "But it is yours."

    "You wish to involve yourself then?"

    "I wish to climb the ranks," she declared.

    His eyes narrowed. "To one day command your own sizeable force and go after the Thousand Sun City?"

    She nodded slowly.

    He bit his lip as if hesitating. "I will not tell you that it is impossible. Sieging a city is different to waging open war. Sieging that city, even more so." He smiled. "But as I said, I will stand with you every step of the way."

 Chapter 27: Blue Skies and a Battle (New artwork inside!)

    <u>Chapter 27 - Blue Skies and a Battle</u>

    "You said you would help with my vengeance," Sar''tara said. They made their way toward the army on standby. "Is it¡­ unreasonable to send every soldier to attack that city?"

    The guard beside Kalin coughed. He shot him a glare. "I imagine most Xenarians to be in favor of knocking the Union down a few notches, but it isn''t so simple. I also said before that declaring a war is a right I do not have. Only Xenaria''s queen can make such a decision. To siege that city, the entirety of our nation''s focus will need to be upon it. That leaves us defenseless against the Empire. The same is in reverse. The Astral Union is a thorn to Tarmia as well. But they cannot attack without exposing themselves to us."

    "If both nations don''t like them, why not help each other?"

    "Alliances do not occur so easily, Sar''tara. For now, keep yourself at my side. Observe everything. There''s a lot to take in if you wish to be a leader of armies."

    Sar''tara nodded.

    Kalin, in truth, wasn''t inclined to her ambitions. Martial skill and leadership skills were two different animals. She had the former, but he wasn''t sure about the latter. She also had no reason to get involved and risk her life in battles unrelated to her. Vengeance though she desired, she deserved a better life than one of blood and iron after everything she''d been through.

    Sar''tara was handed a bow and a full quiver by an armsman handing out supplies.

    "It''s unlikely you''ll see much fighting yourself," Kalin said. He mounted his grey horse and held his hand out for her. She took it and positioned herself behind him, wrapping her arms around loosely. She was getting more accustomed to riding.

    Most the encampment''s host of five thousand were ready to march, a fifth of them on horseback, with further word sent to the garrison for reinforcements. Banners bearing House Serene''s silver eagle fluttered proudly with a mellow breeze. Kalin and Rask rode in between the marching soldiers as they moved towards the Cinder River. From sight alone, Tarmia numbered more than the Xenarians, but were not as well equipped from what Kalin saw.

    Grey clouds split apart and a winter sun bore down on the impending battlefield, sharing little of its warmth. Tarmia''s army was crossing at the Cinder River''s bend using hastily crafted rafts. They''d not all made it across, putting them at a severe disadvantage. A narrow stone bridge used by merchants and travellers was also being used, but half their number was still on the other side.

    Kalin couldn''t let such an opportunity slip past. He spotted the enemy commander sitting atop a horse of his own, observing the battle from a hilltop on the opposite side of the Cinder. Kazir sat proud, his torso completely void of any clothes, displaying the scorpion tattoo on his carved abdomen for his personal guard retinue. His lengthy hair was wrapped around his neck as if it were a scarf.

    There''s something I''m not seeing. Kazir always has a hidden ploy. "Rask, break their lines," Kalin ordered. "Even the numbers. Send them back across the river."

    Rask nodded. He wore his polished helmet which had been designed to somewhat imitate a wolf''s head. ''The Wolf of Metsiphon'' was a name earned well before he began wearing the helm. He embraced the image. The orders were passed along. Rask dismounted and charged, a quarter of allied infantry running alongside him. In response, Tarmia sent out their fast riders that had already crossed the river. Kalin ordered his own riders to intercept, allowing Rask''s van to attack uninterrupted.

    The melee began, screams and cries filling the air. The current of battle overwhelmingly favored Xenaria. Kalin shifted in his saddle. Any sane enemy should have called a retreat before the engagement had begun. Have I truly caught them unaware before they''d set their traps?

    A flare rose from the enemy camp''s position. The earth began to shake. The rumbling vibrations of many dozens of hooves. A dust cloud rose to shroud the southern horizon.

    Hidden cavalry.

    "Flames," Kalin cursed. The Wickar assassins had come wearing scout''s garb. That meant his scouts had been slain. His information network was incomplete. A portion of their army had crossed unnoticed and lay in wait farther south. Kalin opened his mouth to order his lines reformed.

    The warmth of the second person behind him suddenly vanished. He felt Sar''tara''s arms slip away from him. She climbed onto Rask''s now unoccupied destrier and wheeled the beast around towards the direction of the noise before riding off as if she''d learned how from birth. She was a complete natural. Kalin nearly screamed, catching himself before any sound escaped. A distraught commander would hurt morale. As much as he wanted to go after her, he couldn''t. "Enemies to the right!" he shouted. The defensive line was reorganized.

    What in Flames is she hoping to accomplish alone? He''d ordered her to stay and observe. He could only hope she realized her error and returned soon before the enemy ambush fell upon the Xenarians and the field grew chaotic.

    ***

    Jengard Rask could hear the growing sounds of thunder to his right. Tarmia had laid a trap. Typical with skirmishes involving Kazir. Though the nature of traps varied often. This time around, Rask felt burdened by the knowledge. It felt different. He had absolute confidence in Lord Serene. Time and time again, the duke had thwarted the enemy general''s machinations. And Xenarian soldiers were better trained than the Empire''s haphazard conscripted militia.

    Rask roared as he tore into the enemy vanguard, his great sword swinging to slap aside the defensive line of spears set in his path. Half Tarmia''s numbers hardly had full sleeved clothes in such bitter weather, let alone any sort of armor. Their wooden shields were split asunder by the wolf''s fang. Iron bit into flesh. Links of mail shattered. Jengard Rask cleaved three heads at once, another mighty roar escaping him. Blood sprayed. The sound of his voice drove fear into his foes'' hearts. He could see their hands, paled from marching in the cold, trembling. Their already shivering bodies added to the craven atmosphere, bolstering Xenarian morale. "Push them back!" he cried.

    "Follow the Wolf!" the soldiers behind him chanted.

    The smell of blood mingled with that of wet earth of the riverbank. Tarmia''s resistance was little. There were a few thrusts of the spear, a few slow swings of ill sharpened blades. All of them were pushed back with brute force. Amidst the chaos, a single enemy stood taller than the rest. A rust haired man wielding a double sided axe. The weapon tore into the side of a Xenarian soldier that had pushed in too far. The armor he wore stopped him from being split in two, but the force of the attack pushed him into another ally, causing the ally to fall and be impaled by a half dozen spear tips.

    The rust haired man removed the axe from where it was embedded, gore sliding off the edge as droplets of blood rolled down its blade length. He screamed, swinging the great axe above his head. A space cleared around him as soldiers of both sides stepped aside. His hair color and fair skin allowed him to stand out from his tan skinned peers.

    Rask stepped into the fray, recognizing this new foe to be the enemy field commander. He could see the flames of hope growing within Tarmian eyes as they looked to the back of the red haired man. Both sides awaited for the duel of commanders to begin ¡ªall of them also waiting for a chance to stick a blade in the enemy commander''s backs. Duels on the battlefield seldom played out to their end without foul play. "I am Jengard Rask, vassal to High Lord Serene of Xenaria. I would have your name before I hew your head from your shoulders!"

    "Erdhart von Solsetur, nephew to Lady Ashlay of Grace." The last words were said with contempt.

    A former Estraean nobleman. One hailing from Kazir''s most recent conquest from the north. His eyes seemed hallowed, as if they sought death. "You would fight for your conquerors, lad?"

    "I am left with no choice! Come, Wolf of Metsiphon! I''ve heard grand tales of your blade!"

    Adrenaline took over. Rask charged with a feral howl, his sword clashing with his foe''s axe. The sounds of iron striking iron rung through the air. Both were evenly matched in strength, and yet, a part of Rask''s sword had been chipped. He glanced at Erdhart''s'' axe. Intricate carvings had been laid on both the blade and its handle. It was as much a work of art as it was a durable weapon. Estraea was a barren and cold land. Its people were known to make a living from expert craftsmanship.

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    Stronger though the axe may be, it was heavier. Erdhart moved slower. Rask stepped back to dodge a horizontal swing and then stepped back in with a thrust. Erdhart tried backing off from the attack but Rask stepped in farther, not wanting to let his enemy recover. His fang tasted blood. The blade was struck down by a Tarmian before it impaled any further. Rask was caught off balance and the tip of his blade sank an inch into the muddy ground of the riverbank. Tarmian soldiers closed in, shouting. The Xenarians charged as well, though a few feet further behind.

    Rask raised his blade too slow to stop a thin sword from striking his head. Its flimsy edge hardly scratched the wolf-helm. A stroke of luck. His great sword came up and cleaved a neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw the edge of the axe heading for his throat. He raised his blade and stepped in, deflecting Erdhart''s blow before swinging down, tearing open the Estraean''s flesh as if a beast''s claw were dragged along its torso. Erdhart fell on his rear, mud staining his hands. His expression was that of despair as Rask''s sword was driven through his heart.

    Their commander felled, the Tarmians turned tail and fled. None dared stand in The Wolf''s path. Rask cut down those nearest to him before standing still. He outstretched his free arm, resting his longsword on one shoulder. "Chase them down! Occupy the bridge and the banks."

    Xenarian soldiers ran past him, slaying all those in their way. Many Empire militiamen were driven into the cold of the Cinder River, their rafts too few and the bridge too narrow for such numbers. Had they been better trained, the bridge could have easily held an army back. Rask turned to witness the rest of the battle. Xenaria''s well-armed cavalry seemed an even match for the Empire''s more mobile riders that consistently used hit and run tactics. Far to the rear, Lord Serene was reforming the lines to intercept a new wave of hidden enemies from the south. Among them, heavy cavalry specialized in breaking defense lines. Kazir''s target was the High Lord himself. A lone rider raced to meet the enemies on what Rask thought was his own horse. Is that the forest woman?

    Someone coughed by his feet. Erdhart was still breathing, dark red spilling out of his mouth.

    "So I¡­ couldn''t redeem¡­ Solsetur name¡­ my despot of an aunt¡­ You were strong, Wolf of Met¡­" the Estraean''s eyes rolled back, his last words caught in his mouth.

    Rask let out a sigh. He knelt down and closed the eyes of the houseless knight. He barely looked above the age of twenty. A man with nothing to protect. Nothing to fight for. Such was the price of war. The commander stood up once more, focusing his attention on Sar''tara. Was she actually a spy? She was going to the enemies all alone. Her figure was getting smaller and smaller as she rode off. Rask thought he saw her draw her bow, but he couldn¡¯t be certain.

    ***

    A constant guilt gnawed at the back of Sar''tara''s mind. Guilt for disobeying Kalin. Her heart had started racing before the battle even began. She wasn''t content with simply sitting and watching. She needed more than Kalin''s kindness. Aside from Meredith, he''d been the only person willing to hold a full conversation with her, willing to teach her more about her surroundings. Sar''tara wanted to be acknowledged by more people. She needed the warmth of cohesion. She didn''t want to be sidelined. Not when she would be living among these people as one of their own.

    Riding a horse alone for the first time felt much more liberating than she''d expected. She steered the animal using its reins as she''d seen Kalin do. It was surprisingly obedient.

    Sar''tara rode past the allied lines and down the empty field. Far in the horizon, enemy soldiers were running forward, a few dozen well armored horsemen leading them. They reminded Sar''tara of the final mist soldier she''d fought during Ny''Danis'' Trials; the heavily armored rider that had used a flail like weapon. These riders were covered in iron from head to toe. Their helms bore strange white horns at the sides. Crafted wings were at their backs. Sunlight reflected off of their bodies. Even the horses shimmered, iron covering them also with spikes protruding from some spots. Cold sweat formed on Sar''tara''s brow. These enemies had a more intimidating appearance than the Kreiva with war paint.

    Sar''tara glanced behind. Kalin made no attempt to follow her. His soldiers stood resolute, spear bearers kneeling at the front in preparation for enemy riders. They stood no chance she realized. Their iron tipped wooden spears would do them no good against the few dozen iron garbed horsemen. Their purpose was to break the first line of defense so the footmen behind would have an easy time,

    Sar''tara would have to slay these enemies herself before they reached the Xenarians. She spotted Kalin dismounting. He knew a melee would soon ensue. She feared for him. She knew what it was like to stand on two feet whilst staring at a charging horseman. She had felt the immense pressure of a heavily armored rider before. They wouldn''t stop at just breaching the vanguard. A few dozen was more than enough to ravage allied lines.

    With a leap of faith, Sar''tara let go of her horse''s reins. Her fingers curled around the familiar feeling of her bow while the other hand nocked and drew back. Wood creaked in her ears. Hitting a moving target was one thing. Hitting a moving target while bouncing up and down from a horse was something else. A missed shot and her arrow would bounce off the heavy armor. Or worse; sail through the air harmlessly.

    "A Selharr never misses," Sar''tara assured herself. One arrow per. She sucked air through her teeth, honing her sight on her target. There were no room for errors ¡ªnot in her imagination, and not in reality. One arrow per.

    Twang!

    The arrow left her fingers. The tip slipped through the eye holes of an enemy helmet.

    Sar''tara smirked, her growing confidence shattering every restraint that had held it. The heavily armed riders moved much slower than her. One by one, she began picking them off. She''d nearly come into their range having culled a fifth. They rode after her hard, clearly angered. Sar''tara flashed a knowing smile before grabbing the reins and pulling back her horse. It let out a pitched whinny, kicking its front legs up in the air as it pulled to a stop.

    "Now for the real test, Tara," she breathed. She kicked the horse into motion, riding back towards allied lines. And then she let go of the reins again.

    Once more she drew back, stabilizing her sense of balance. She twisted her body and aimed back, breath caught in her throat when seeing how close she was to an Empire horseman. The man had a dangerously long iron lance in hand. The blade length was that of a short sword and had spikes along its edge. A weapon made to raze defense lines and shred armor with ease. His thick arm raised it with minimal effort.

    Sar''tara gulped. She couldn''t let herself panic lest she lose her balance and fall off. Her horse, slowed ever so slightly, allowing her to maintain stability. They were smarter creatures than she''d originally thought. The slight decline in speed allowed her would be assailer to come into attacking range. He wasn''t as fast as her arrow. An iron tip went through his shadowed eye. He slumped back before eventually falling off of his own mount a few seconds later.

    Sar''tara continued her hunt. Picking off the Empire''s heavy cavalry one at a time. The burden on her back began to lighten. Her once full quiver was now nearly hollow. She reached the Xenarian soldiers, barely a dozen Tarmian horsemen still hounding her. The foot soldiers behind them were still a fair few hundred paces distance away. Sar''tara thought to ride around her enemies in an attempt to thin their numbers a bit more. She saw Kalin standing at the van, screaming, wildly waving his arms and motioning to one side. Behind him, the spearmen had been replaced with archers ¡ªcrossbowmen. The sight of those weapons brought back unsightly memories of home, of the many bolts flying past her and sinking into burning trees.

    Sar''tara grimaced, steering her horse away, obeying Kalin''s screaming plea. Crossbows weren''t powerful enough to pierce heavy armor, but enough of them would get at the horses or find gaps in between. Her horse slowed to a trot as it re-entered allied lines. Glowing eyes stared back at her. The soldiers showered her with words of praise. Sar''tara blushed. This was the admiration she''d been looking for. Perhaps she wouldn''t be seen as an outsider now.

    Her eyes sought out Kalin, hoping he''d be proud. For some reason, she yearned for his praise the most.

    ***

    Moments earlier¡­

    Kalin stared in awe as Sar''tara recklessly charged towards enemies. His thoughts became a dizzying blur filled with worry and shock. She didn¡¯t even have a sword or spear with which to engage. His body stilled as she drew her bow, hands off the reins, and began picking off enemies one by one. She was one with the bow as blademasters are one with their swords. It was an extension of her body. Her skill and grace was something straight out of imagination. Something that he only thought possible in stories. He stood transfixed, watching the scene as a child watches a performing troupe for the first time. Each arrowhead found its mark. Not a single shaft was wasted.

    Kalin collected himself and ordered crossbows to the front. With the heavy cavalry numbers thinned by such a number, a wave or two was all that would be needed to end their charge. He flailed his arms about for Sar''tara to see. "Move!" he cried. She eventually obeyed. Kalin raised his arm, waiting for the enemy riders to approach closer. Their horned helms and silver wings were that of an appearance he''d only heard of from distant reports. Tarmia''s Ivory Hussars. Known for ravaging their eastern warfronts, they were lauded heroes of the Empire. They were close enough for him to see their shadow covered eyes. Eyes full of terror and resignation. Resignation of death. They knew there to be no escape. Regardless, they moved forward, whipping their mounts for one final burst of speed.

    "Brave and loyal to the very end," Kalin muttered. "Admirable." His arm came down. "Fire!"

    Most of the bolts met their match in Tarmian armor. Regardless, enough iron tips found soft flesh or a horse''s unprotected knees. The riders fell, and some horses went with. Others stopped running altogether with no rider to control them. Two beasts crashed into allied lines. No casualties were sustained. The Empire''s footmen charging behind continued to approach.

    "Archers prepare a volley! Shields and spears to the front!"

    The movements were made seamlessly, the well trained army of High House Serene shifting like a fine tuned machine. A horn blared in the distance, this one slightly different to the one that had originally sounded. Kalin smiled. He knew this sound. He had come to savour it as music. The sound of Tarmia''s retreat signal. The oncoming army suddenly changed directions, fleeing towards the river. Kalin looked across at the hilltop. Kazir was nowhere to be seen. "A well placed trap thwarted by an anomaly," he muttered. An anomaly called Sar''tara Vashiri. With the bridge now under Rask''s control, the Empire''s forces fled down the bank for a narrower crossing. The waters were cold. The enemy ran to naught.

    Sar''tara''s hunt had been completed. The Xenarians had yet to begin theirs. Kalin outstretched his hands. Words of command escaped his parted lips. "Hunt them down!"

 Chapter 28: Dishonored

    <u>Chapter 28 - Dishonored</u>

    Another loss.

    Kazir had lost count of the number he''d suffered at the hands of Xenaria''s duke. Time and again, Kalin survived assassination attempts and well placed traps on the field. Many had fallen to the same ploys but Xenaria''s bastion continued to resist. "A true bastion indeed," he muttered. He dug his heels deeper into his roan''s side. It was already going as fast as it could. He lashed out with the reins, forcing the animal to add in every last bit of strength.

    He''d seen it all. A single rider felling a contingent of the Empire''s heroes. A hunter from the Papillion Forest. Her loyalty had already been bought by Kalin. Kazir had surety in his victory, but he''d lost once again. His plans thwarted by an unknown factor. He exhaled, trying to calm himself, his hot breath colliding with his face as his horse maintained its speed. The forest hunter wasn''t an unknown factor. Not entirely. The primary reason for fielding his army was to enter the forest. There no longer seemed a reason for that. The Astral Union had no doubt taken what was rumored to be hidden within. Kalin had gotten a skilled warrior to use. The spoils had already been divided.

    "I should have expected something," he muttered to himself. Assassins had little room for mistakes. Expecting the most absurd of factors in every situation was how Kazir had survived to reach the upper ranks of the Wickar assassins where others did not. Though, there still were a handful others better than himself.

    The horse began to slow as it neared the Tarmian war camp. Thousands more soldiers rested, prepared to fight. More prepared to die, Kazir thought. Rabble conscripted militia. Many from recently conquered lands without a shred of loyalty. They were no match for the duke''s well trained army. The Empire''s real army was occupied on the eastern front.

    Kazir leapt off the back of his horse before it came to a full halt, summersaulting through the air before landing on his toes. His long hair unravelled. It stood an inch above the ground. He wrapped the smooth black mass around his neck as a scarf, hiding the scars of a slave collar from a time past. A chill breeze glazed over his bare torso. He clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering. Temperature was one of many things the Wickar were taught to ignore. Most succeeded in pretending to ignore it. The sea of soldiers in the war camp parted as he walked through them. He ignored their greetings and poorly performed salutes.

    Kazir marched into his command tent, mimicking a mirage of anger whilst truly being grateful to be in the warmth of the enclosed and shaded space. A broad shouldered young man barely into his twenties sat cross legged on the ground, sipping from a cup in his hand. His hair, split evenly down the middle, nearly reached his shoulders. He wore a white coat with maroon designs of vines weaved into them. A red shawl hung over one shoulder, marking him as one of Tarmia''s highest ranking officials. The tent smelled of cinnamon tea. Spoiled runt.

    "Again you have failed," the man stated without looking up.

    "Silence!" Kazir cried, snapping his arm to the side. "Your Hussars were felled by a single rider. A single woman. They were more useless than a eunuch in a brothel!"

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    "Eunuch in a brothel," the man echoed. "You Wickar say some humorous things. All fifty done in by one woman? Explain to me in detail, please." Even in the shade, the young man''s eyes glinted with a childish excitement. Intrigue touched the edges of his voice. Kazir hated that look. The look of pure innocence untainted by the foulness of man.

    "They were picked apart by a swooping eagle like scurrying mice before they even posed a threat to Kalin Serene."

    "Stop with the analogies. You mean to tell me those heavily armored soldiers of mine were shot down?"

    "Is their iron made of butter, Idris? Do they let in whatever shaft just as your mother?"

    Idris sighed. "Do all you Wickar speak as such or is it just you? We''re both bastards, Kazir. Though, you seem content with living like one. I won''t be lending you any more of my soldiers."

    "Content living like one!?" Kazir spat.

    "Indeed. Blademaster Kazir. The Waltzing Blade. The Living Body of Wind. Some say your skill is peerless. I''ll give credit where it''s due. I''ve seen your swords. Yet¡­ you insist on taking the dishonourable path. The cowardly path. Just as bastards do. I hate you assassins. Hiding in shadows, veiling your faces, slitting enemy throats. Have you no pride? Your name is uttered in whispers. By fearful tongues in lightless alleys. By crooked aristocrats, with hands bloody. ''Idris Khan'' is chanted on every street in every city by every child of this Empire. My Empire. I was fifteen when I picked up a sword and joined a campaign. Seven years later, and Tarmia has become the largest nation in Illusterra. Carve your name into history, Kazir. Challenge Kalin to a duel if your pants hide more than just your legs."

    "He has no reason to accept!"

    "Perhaps not." Idris stood up, his height a full inch higher than Kazir. He was the Emperor''s most favored general. The twin scimitars at his side were being used as hand rests. One corner of his mouth twisted as he lost himself in thought. "This¡­ archer woman. Did you get a name?"

    "The shadows tell me Kalin was shouting ''Sar''tara'' as she chased after them during the botched assassination. They say she follows him around like a hound on a leash."

    "Kalin himself was calling her? Humm¡­ Maybe I''m reaching this time. Then again, my predictions have hardly ever been wrong. Is the duke still unmarried?"

    "Yes, so far as I know."

    "Mm. Then perhaps he does have a reason to accept?"

    "High Lord Serene is no child. He won''t accept a duel merely to show off."

    Idris laughed, his voice clear and deep and full of joy. "All men become children when near a pretty flower. Kalin himself taking care of a lone woman who''s lost her home. There''s room for feelings to develop mayhap. Hah! Sar''tara was it? Fifty of my heavy cavalry¡­ It would certainly be amusing to cross blades with such a person." He pressed a firm hand against Kazir''s shoulder before exiting to leave. The glint in his thin eyes still held.

    Kazir cursed under his breath. Idris Khan had slain so many and yet his innocence never seemed to wear away. Kazir wondered if it was due to the man''s youth. A boy who lived for one thing and one thing alone. Battle. Nothing else mattered to him. He thrived on seeking challenge on equal grounds only to prove himself better. To prove himself the best. War, to him, was just a game to be beaten. Idris was the pure manifestation of every boy''s dream. A warrior without equal. The people had begun labelling him a War God. He had won against the greatest names of the east. Names that were now forgotten in the great shadow that was his own. A hero.

    Kazir kicked the empty tea cup as hard as he could. It shattered before scattering in multiple directions. Even within the shadows of his tent, he was finding little comfort. He knew himself to be jealous of Idris. "I thought you''d come to mock my failures. Yet you leave, thinking I will share in that romantic dream of yours. A duel to regain my honor¡­ My honor died a long time ago."

    Idris was still young. Kazir wondered how long that smile would remain untainted. If there was one story people loved more than heroic legends, it was a tragedy. Heroes, after all, were destined to fail. For before every recorded calamity, there was a hero''s tale.

 Chapter 29: A Mistake

    <u>Chapter 29 - A Mistake</u>

    Cart loads of looted iron were being sent back to the garrison of Arcaeus Peak. Xenarian riders were sent across the border to ensure no follow up attack was being made. Over a third of the Empire''s army had managed to retreat. Kalin didn''t command for his soldiers to chase into the cold waters. The bodies of all fallen were set ablaze to avoid causing pestilence. Xenarian casualties numbered a few dozen at most. An overwhelming victory. All made thanks to Sar''tara. The woman was still surrounded by many singing her praises.

    "So my eyes did not deceive me," Rask said as he came to stand by Kalin. "Those were the Ivory Hussars, no? And she brought them down near single handed."

    "I''m still in awe myself." The story-like image of her riding into the horizon, loose strands of her hair that hadn''t been braided billowing in the wind, and her seamless movements, still clear in his mind like an imagination he so desperately wanted to be true. Except it was true. Kalin just had a hard time believing it. "Grab yourself a drink or two but keep eyes all around. Do a quick head count of every unit. Make sure no assassins remain. The men should be allowed a night to celebrate. We return to the garrison at dawn. There no longer remains a reason to protect the burnt forest."

    "Yes, Your Grace," the large man said, bowing.

    Kalin returned to the Xenarian encampment. Evening was quick to fade by the time the soldiers returned. Barrels of ale were brought out. Campfires roared to life. Songs were sung and jokes were made. Kalin made his way to the medic tents where a handful were being treated for minor scratches. Sar''tara wasn''t in her usual tent.

    "Looking for me?" she asked, tapping his shoulder from behind.

    She was wearing a wide smile. She knew her actions to have saved the day. Her gleeful expression beckoned at him to make compliments just as a child seeking recognition. Words of praise were begging to escape Kalin''s mouth. He kept them imprisoned. Her actions were reckless. And she''d also disobeyed him. The Serene army thrived on obedience for the command structure, and she''d firmly lodged a wedge in that gear. "Do you understand what you''ve done?"

    "Am I getting promoted?" she asked, her smile growing ever more childish and adorable.

    He shook his head. "Was that the reason for such thoughtless actions? You aren''t even a formal part of this army, let alone attaining promotions. I had told you to stand still and watch! Had you been a soldier, you''d be getting court martialed for disobedience regardless of your achievements!"

    "Court mar-shall?" she asked, frowning at his unexpected response.

    "Punished," Kalin explained. He expected her to pout but her expression darkened instead. "I won''t discredit your actions, Sar''tara. They may well have saved hundreds of lives. I can''t even wholly call your actions reckless. Your skill with the bow is better than any I''ve ever seen. You had confidence in yourself, I could tell. But you were rash regardless. Had their horsemen been even slightly faster, you would have perished for nothing, taking the memories of your family to your grave." And leaving me with just an imagination of your beauty and mastery.

    "You were worried about me, Kalin Serene?"

    "Is it not natural for a leader to worry for their subjects?" Kalin''s mouth dried. Subject? Sar''tara? She was more a free bird, carried by the wind when it suited and moving against it when it didn''t. A free bird that he wanted to keep at his side.

    "Yes. I suppose¡­" she whispered, looking away, faded memories lingering at the corners of her eyes. "How am I to formally join your army?"

    He sighed aloud. For all her childish mannerisms and naivety, the one thing at the forefront of her thoughts was still vengeance. A thought keeping her from being whole. Not with all of Xenaria mobilized was it guaranteed that the Thousand Sun City could be felled. He couldn''t tell her that. "For starters, there''s some paperwork to be done. We can get that going tomorrow. I suppose it won''t be too odd for you to start in a higher position, given that everyone seems to be lauding you a hero. Though some may have qualms with a woman leading them¡­"

    Doubtful. She''d already won over the entire encampment. He had no doubt she''d win over the garrison before long. And she had always been a Xenarian. Accepting her as one of their own shouldn''t be a problem for the soldiers.

    "Why is that?" Sar''tara asked. "Are there not many women among plains dwellers? I see none among your fighters."

    "Women aren''t known to be fighters," Meredith said, appearing from the side. Kalin flinched at her sudden appearance, one hand halfway to the sword at his waist. She curtsied briefly. "Your Grace, do you wish for the physics to look you over?"

    Kalin shook his head, looking away. His attention had been entirely focused on Sar''tara. "Look after her for the night, Meredith. There''s no telling what the men would do once drunk." He walked away and headed for the command tent. Sar''tara continued to question the physic.

    Kalin exhaled. He wondered what the court would be like if Sar''tara were to be introduced as a noble lady. He relished the thought of outraged reactions. She was beautiful as well as strong. Which made her twice as attractive. He let the thoughts slip away. It was better to distance himself from her before he fell further. The battles of a court were entirely different to that of the field. The nobles would eat an oblivious outsider alive. He wouldn''t let Sar''tara be subject to such torture.

    Kalin entered the command tent to find a new pile of papers and letters left at the small table along with a plate of cheese and ham. Rask had also left him a full barrel of ale. A cruel joke. There was nothing better than drinking on a field of victory. Or so everyone said. Everyone knew him as a lightweight when it came to holding liquor. A single glass of wine was enough to tip him off. The rumors had spread like wildfire after a fated night at a gathering where Princess Dahlia and her attendants had pushed a drunk Kalin into a fountain. He shook his head at the memory. That had been nearly three years past.

    He nibbled on his food, barely making dents in them with his eating utensils while skimming through the papers. Reports of resource stocks, the happenings within the capital, and most dreaded of all, even more marriage proposals. He hated proposals. It took time to craft polite refusals to match each one. The vast majority of them came from minor unknown Houses. But a poorly sent letter would send rumors throughout the court. Rumors that the minor noblemen would use to defame the duke and increase their own social standings.

    Kalin ran a hand through his hair, pausing to tug on it as if that would remove his burdens, wondering when the royals, High House Lakris, would send their own proposal. He thought it inevitable. He wondered if Dahlia was simply waiting to ascend the throne. "Should I just send one to her?" he mused. Her social standing was the only one higher than his. Perhaps she was waiting for him to send the proposal.

    Kalin rubbed his temples. He wished he could have gotten away from the stupidity that was the court. Wished there was some way to absolve himself from petty duties without sullying the Serene name. Serene. How ironic. His thoughts drifted to Sar''tara once more. The image of her childish smile and forest green eyes like a still portrait in his mind. His own eyes drifted to the barrel. Kalin shook his head and rid himself of his thoughts. "Might as well drink myself to sleep," he grumbled. Multiple wooden mugs had been left by the barrel. He felt his temper rise. There was no need to play the joke that far. A single mug could easily be refilled anyway. He lifted himself from the chair, groaning at the exhaustion in his knees. Twenty-eight and I''m already feeling old¡­

    The tent flap was pushed aside and Sar''tara ducked in. Her single braid had been untied, an even split of her smooth dark hair hanging over the front of both shoulders. "Yes?" Kalin asked, both annoyed and relieved at her presence. Half of him wanted to spend the night in conversation with her. The other half wanted to curl up under a blanket and leave all his headaches to plague him the next morning.

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    Kalin met her eyes. His headaches melted away.

    "Nothing," Sar''tara said, sitting down on a mattress made of sheets and blankets. She put a blanket over her shoulders. "Do you people not use furs? Your cloaks are nice but they aren''t warm enough for evernight."

    "Evernight?" he asked, whilst pouring himself a drink. She stared at the motion curiously, seemingly more interested in the tap from where the drink fell rather than the drink itself.

    "The evernight season. When nights are long and frost sometimes falls from the sky."

    "Ah. Winter season then."

    "So you have different names," she noted. "We call the warming days the period of rebirth. Then comes the period of growth. Followed by the fading period when leaves change color and trees begin to shed."

    "For us, our warming days would be the sowing season, and then summer, followed by harvest and finally winter." He noticed Sar''tara''s eyes fixed on the mug in his hands. They followed it as he took a sip. "Would you like some?"

    "Yes."

    He raised a brow at the quick response. Shrugging, he poured her some, laughing internally at the usefulness of the extra mugs. Sar''tara took a cautious sip, then proceeded to down everything in a single breath. Kalin now had both eyebrows raised.

    "Should you not be drinking outside with everyone else?" she asked.

    "No. I''d rather the Flames scald me before I let them catch me drunk."

    "Really? But your drinks are so soft," she said, holding out the mug. "I hardly feel a tingle at the back of my throat. I''d drink that whole container if it would fit inside me."

    Kalin frowned. Soft? He wondered what manner of drinks the woman had in her home village. Whether a tribal people could even make drinks. He shrugged and filled her mug. "I''ll have someone set up another tent for you in a bit. I suppose Meredith and the other physics could use some rest after today."

    "Another tent¡­What for?"

    "For you to sleep in, of course."

    "There''s room enough here though?"

    "Well, yes¡­ But this is my tent¡­"

    "Do you have a problem with me sleeping here?"

    "Ye¡ª I mean not exactly." Kalin looked down at the foam in his mug. It would be uncomfortable. A discomfort his heart was strangely willing to put up with. "You have been given a single tent to use yourself since we found you."

    "And I don''t like it," Sar''tara complained. "You isolate me as if I''m an outsider. How am I to gain everyone''s trust if they don¡¯t trust me? Everyone praises me as I walk by. But no one asks me to sit down. No one asks me for a conversation. No one tries getting to know me like you have done! You did this to me by the forest also. You kept me from the rest and watched over me all night instead of sleeping yourself. Now, you take issue with me when I''ve risked my life slaying your enemies. My enemies. I want to be one of you! I want to be a Xenareen! I''m not going to kill you in your sleep!"

    "Xenarian," Kalin muttered. She didn¡¯t seem to hear. From what he knew, she grew up in an entirely female environment. She had no understanding of what most would consider common sense. He considered sending her to sleep with the female physics and asking them to better explain the situation, but wasn''t sure if she would be offended. He downed his mug and put it away. It was better to not drink further if she planned to sleep in his tent. Just a single mug and he could already feel his senses begin to blur. She''s only sleeping here. Nothing will come of it.

    Sar''tara rose to get her third fill. Kalin handed her his mostly untouched food portions and she stuffed them in her mouth, ignoring the utensils and chewing with puffed cheeks much like a chipmunk. It was distinctly unladylike. But also amusing. She was someone he could feel at ease by. Someone who he didn¡¯t have to put up false airs for. He didn''t need to be a nobleman here. Didn''t need to be the duke of Xenaria before Sar''tara.

    He picked up a piece of yellow cheese by hand and bit into it, staring at her, her green eyes gazing longingly at the disappearing ham in her hands. Kalin shook his head at himself. Sar''tara had no eyes for him. She was oblivious to the relations between a man and a woman. He stripped himself of his armor and weapon belt and tossed them to the edge of the tent, causing them to clatter. He tucked himself under the sheets of blankets and hoped to fall asleep before she joined him. His brows furrowed as she joined him almost immediately, the food in her hands magically having disappeared. He rolled on his back and tried not to look at her.

    She frowned. "Is my presence really that bothersome, Kalin?"

    He swallowed hard. Everywhere he went, it was ''Your Grace'' this or ''My Lord'' that. The way she said his name with her slight accent resounded within him, echoing in his chest. He turned to her, losing himself in the forest that was her eyes for a moment. "It isn''t bothersome," he finally managed to say.

    She gave a slight smile and closed her eyes. A long moment passed. Lines of irritation began to show on Sar''tara''s face. "Your actions do not match your words, Kalin. I promised I wouldn¡¯t kill you in your sleep. Yet I feel your gaze upon me still. You need not stare at me all night long."

    He felt his face flush. "That''s¡­ you''re just beautiful is all," he grumbled as he turned on his back. He felt her shuffle about. She rested her head on her hand with an elbow to support. Her face was much too close to his. Her subtle exhales tickled his sides. "Was that an excuse, or honesty?" He didn¡¯t answer. Her eyes narrowed. "Describe my beauty to me if you''re being truthful."

    Kalin''s mouth dried. He couldn''t think of a way to answer. Couldn''t think of what to equate her beauty with. There was a sweet lingering scent of ale upon her lips. His mind went blank and his hands moved without him realizing. He caressed the side of her head and kissed her.

    Sar''tara blinked as he pulled away. "Was that a show of affection? Does my beauty truly mean that much to you, Kalin?"

    He felt his body grow hot. He forced her on to her back and put both his hands beside her head to support himself. Just another kiss. Nothing more. She didn''t seem to mind the first...

    Sar''tara stared up curiously. She wasn''t making a single move to stop him. Kalin couldn''t think straight. Desire consumed him. Honor deserted him. He pressed his lips against hers. She put an arm around him. His fingers ran down her bare sides, feeling the outlines of her ribs before sliding to the front and caressing her carved abdomen.

    His senses returned briefly and he jerked away from her. "No¡­ I can''t. Shouldn''t. I''m¡­ sorry." His heart was racing. He turned away from her. The primal desire within him screamed at him to turn back. Another kiss? What am I doing...? The first time was wrong ienough!

    Sar''tara pressed her breasts against his back. Her heart was racing as well. She reached around and placed a warm hand on his chest. Tendrils of heat pierced the drum within. "Sorry for what?" she whispered. "I was not disliking that. Please continue. Show me the length of your affection or I will label you a liar and leave."

    Leave? He didn¡¯t want that. He turned to face her again. To apologize and explain himself. To...

    The alcohol in Kalin''s blood removed from him the last bit of mental restraint. He found his lips locking with hers once more. The sound of her soft moans vibrated throughout the corners of his mind. Everything beyond that point became a blur.

    ***

    It was still dark in the tent when Kalin awoke. Dawn had yet to arrive. He sat up running a hand through his hair to soothe a headache. His throat was parched. A single mug of ale had been enough to cause a hangover. He had a slight recollection of kissing Sar''tara. Of undoing her clothes and then his own. His heart grew heavy and a terrible feeling of guilt overcame him. He sat up instantly to see her sitting cross legged, drinking from a mug with her back to the barrel of ale. "I¡­ last night?"

    "Is something wrong?" she asked.

    Kalin stood up, tugging at the ends of his face with his palms. "Did something happen last night?" He knew the answer, but he refused to accept it.

    "No?"

    No? Really? He breathed a sigh of relief. He walked back and forth to steady his balance. He desperately needed water. Or a cold cup of milk. Either would do.

    "You plains dwellers have an odd way of showing affection. Though, it was not displeasing. I rather enjoyed it."

    "What!?"

    "Did you find it displeasing? It did not seem that way to me. Strange. I felt as if there were a fire in my belly when you were done. Your affection has more strength than your drinks."

    Kalin stared mouth agape, frozen. His face grew hot. She had no idea what she was saying. What he had done to her.

    "Now that I think of it, I suppose I wouldn''t mind doing that again. I think I might want to, even. If you thought so highly of me before, why didn¡¯t you do something like this earlier?"

    "Sar''tara¡­"

    "Is this common among plains dwellers? Would anyone else do this with me also if they admired me as you do?" She took a slow sip from her mug. "You¡­ do admire me don''t you?"

    Kalin finally found control of his limbs. He rushed over to her and gripped both of her shoulders. "Flames no! Do not ever do that with anyone else!" Else? It was wrong enough with me!

    Sar''tara cocked her head to the side. "Why not?"

    "Just don¡¯t! Or¡­ Or I''ll expel you from Xenaria and leave you alone."

    Her expression turned grim. Her figure seemed to shrink as her arms trembled. "You-you would not. You would not leave me alone!" she cried.

    "Yes. You¡¯re right. So please just listen to me. Don''t do that with anyone else. Ever!"

    "But it''s alright if it is with you?"

    No! "Yes," he said, disobeying his own thoughts. He swallowed hard. His feelings were a mix between guilt and happiness. He felt a terrible attraction to her. But he knew it to be nothing more than lust. He had prided himself on his dignity. On his responsibilities as a leader and as a High Lord. He looked down on other nobility that abused their powers or spent their wealth on indulgences. He had the option of marrying Sar''tara. But that would bring a host of troubles. The court would be thrown into chaos. The soldiers could tease all they wanted. But no one in high society would accept the duke marrying an outsider with no lineage to trace back. She would forever be labelled his mistress and his honor would be tainted. She would be hounded and shunned her remaining life.

    Sar''tara''s eyes still held a sliver of fear. The glint of forming tears at their edges recalled her tragedy. "It''s alright. I won¡¯t leave you alone." The words came out of his mouth. But a small and hateful part of him did not believe it.

 Chapter 30: A Different Home

    <u>Chapter 30 - A Different Home</u>

    Sar''tara let out a gasp upon seeing the garrison of Arcaeus Peak. It sat tall and proud upon a high hill like an eagle perched on the highest branch of a barren tree. Its grey walls, while much smaller than the Thousand Sun City, were daunting all the same. Placed on a height and with the Greyscale Lake near the less steep incline, the fortress was hard to siege Kalin had said. Arcaeus Peak served as the shield of Xenaria.

    Bells sounded as silver eagle banners were seen approaching from the garrison walls. Sar''tara gawked as a giant iron and wood gate slowly creaked open without anyone pushing it. She''d been given her own horse to use ¡ªone of the ones taken from the Empire''s winged horsemen. Eager to see inside, she nudged her steed with her bare heel. It added a jolt to its trot, gaining a lead over Kalin and Rask''s own horses. They made no mention of it, though, she could hear the curious whispers of the wall guards as her horse stepped into the shadow of the arched gateway before theirs. It opened into a vast, sunlit field of bare dirt. Behind it all lay the largest structure Sar''tara had ever seen. A building of grey and white stone that stood taller than the walls. A castle. It was much grander than what she''d imagined castles to look like from the stories her Mother used to tell. This place housed half the Serene army, about forty thousand as per Kalin, with more in training and others out on border patrol.

    This place would be Sar''tara''s new home.

    A small part of her was eager to explore this new, unknown place. But there was nothing familiar here. Everything seemed like an obstacle. So many new faces making odd glances her way. Towering walls that couldn''t be scaled and only served as a barrier to what lay behind it. There were hardly any trees to climb. No flowers to admire. No singing birds or gentle streams. No fauna. No curious nymphs to nag her.

    Young boys gathered around the returning force. Soldiers dismounted and handed their mounts off to them. The animals were being led away to be stabled, or housed as Sar''tara had learned. Men on foot continued their organized march into the castle. Sar''tara dismounted, holding the reins to her own horse tight. She didn¡¯t want to give him away. The presence of an obedient animal made her feel more at ease surrounded in an unfamiliar place. She scratched the underside of the horse''s neck. A boy two thirds her height came to stand by her, waiting expectantly. Sar''tara simply shook her head at him. He stood there still. She ignored him, hoping he would leave.

    "Who''re you?" the boy finally asked, looking her up and down. He frowned at her strange garments.

    "I am Sar''tara Vashiri."

    "Are you a slave? Lord Serene don''t keep slaves."

    "Save?" Sar''tara asked, cocking her head.

    Kalin came to stand beside her. The boy lowered his head got and bowed in an instant. "Hand him the reins, Sar''tara," the duke said. She opened her mouth to protest. He held up a hand to stop her. "It''s his job. Let him do it. And no lad, she is not a slave," he said, turning back to the boy.

    Sar''tara reluctantly let go of the reins. Her eyes followed the boy and the horse as they were led away behind a corner. "When do I become a soldier?" How often did soldiers leave, she wanted to ask. She wondered if they were mostly limited to the garrison, surrounded by imprisoning walls at all times. Sar''tara was having doubts about being a soldier. But she couldn''t tell Kalin that. It would make him doubt her conviction. Doubt her strength. He seemed to admire her because of those qualities. She couldn''t lose her only friend because she failed to adapt to a new life.

    Kalin sighed. "That will be a long process yet. Follow me."

    She trailed after him, raised brows following her everywhere. She heard whispers and mutters but no one bothered to approach Kalin and her to satisfy their curiosity. No one thought to greet them unless they were close enough to the duke when he passed by. Such behaviour would be considered rude by Vashiri standards. They entered the castle, guards at the gate saluting, their cautious and leering eyes gazing over her. They frowned, more so at her garments than her. Sar''tara hugged herself, looking at her feet.

    A straight narrow passage followed once indoors. Grey walls were on either side. Windows were scarce and small. The passage was lit with braziers hanging on the walls at every few dozen steps. Sar''tara stopped to inspect the iron mechanisms holding them in place. Kalin paused, letting her indulge. "How does one mold iron?" she asked.

    "Ironworks, whether tools or weapons, are crafted by blacksmiths. They are melted to liquid and then poured into the correct mold. That''s the basics. Once it has cooled, it will have hardened and takes the shape of its mold. Depending on the object, more work may be needed."

    The process intrigued her. But the dancing flames on the torch¡­ "Where is this done?" she asked, averting her gaze, suppressing a rising panic within her lungs. Don''t show him your weakness, Tara.

    "There are numerous smithies within these walls. We will have time enough for it all eventually," Kalin assured her with a weary smile.

    Sar''tara shrugged. They continued along. She slowly started crafting a map of the castle in her mind. All her efforts came unravelled by the time Kalin made his third turn. She''d lost count of the number of different rooms they''d walked by. The halls didn''t always turn in one direction either. She didn''t let it frustrate her. Learning the lay of a new land would take time. She thought to ask Kalin whether they could go to the castle''s heights. Her lips remained shut when they entered a corridor leading to a spiralling set of stairs. Sar''tara wanted to see the world below from a tall height. She wanted to know what it was that birds saw from high above. And to perhaps feel a familiarity with a forest, with gazing down from a peak as if she were in a tall tree. Her fingers touched the bumpy surface of the walls. "How was this place built?"

    "You''d have to ask the stonemasons of centuries past about that. Though¡­ the archives in Metsiphon''s libraries may still hold records," Kalin said, rounding another corner to a new flight of stairs.

    Lie berries? "Records¡­ as in I can see how it was done?" Metsiphon was a city, and Kalin''s place of birth, Sar''tara was told. It housed the other forty thousand of his armies. So many people.

    "There may be illustrations. Mostly written¡­ Can you read or write?"

    "I can read the tracks of animals. I can read the wind also and guess when it may rain. I can also read the sun and stars to find my path."

    "That would be a no, then¡­" Kalin muttered.

    She frowned. "Those do not count? And what do you mean by write?" Surely he didn''t mean the opposite of ''wrong''. Or was it a slip of his tongue?

    He kept silent. They went through multiple more passages and flights of stairs. He stopped at last by a small passage with only two doors. "The left door is where I sleep. The one on the right is my office ¡ªwhere I usually work."

    Sar''tara nodded thoughtfully.

    "If you''d like, I can give you your own resting quarters¡­"

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    "No! Surely you aren''t still trying to isolate me after last night, Kalin Serene? And you won''t permit me to sleep with others. I don''t wish to be alone. So I will stay with you."

    Kalin sighed at the response as if he expected her to have said yes. She didn''t understand. His behaviour had been strange since morning. He opened the door to the right. It led to a small room with a table and a chair. The walls were lined with strange wooden box like objects. They held other rectangular objects of interest. Sar''tara observed these without touching them. "These are shelves," Kalin explained. "They hold books. Books in turn, hold our spoken words. That is what I meant by reading or writing. Words are written within. Recorded within. Then they can be read at a later time by anyone able to read."

    Sar''tara''s eyes widened as she took another look over all of the books. A gasp escaped her parted lips. "Spoken words can be recorded? Can I learn this?"

    He smiled as he sat down in his chair. "Yes. In fact, you need to. House Serene does not make use of peasant militia. Every soldier can read and write to some extent. Though, it will be a lengthy process yet."

    "Teach me!" she said, pressing her hands on the table and leaning in with a wide smile.

    He turned away, cheeks coloring. "I''m afraid I do not have time for that myself. I''ll have to stay within this fortress for a few months before returning to Metsiphon. I suspect winter will be nearing its end by that time. I''ll have one of the officers teach you the basics. Once we''re at the city, I can hire a more appropriate instructor. My library holds many old records of the Thousand Sun City. They may come of use to you."

    Sar''tara clenched her fists. Learning to read and write spoken words would bring her a step closer to her vengeance. A step closer to attaining justice. "When can I start? Can I start now? I promise I learn quick!"

    "Sar''tara, please bear with me. I can''t have everything done with the wave of my hand. For now, I''ll have someone guide you around. This place is large. I wouldn''t want you getting lost."

    She pouted. She walked behind him and looked out a small window. She caught sight of a training field where men were sparring with each other or doing other tasks to test fitness. It felt so strange, witnessing everything from so high up. She felt like an owl patiently waiting at a treetop, scanning through crowds in search of an easy meal. Or an easy target. It was unexpectedly easy to identify the weakest or youngest of soldiers.

    "More proposals," Kalin grumbled behind her, his hands shifting through the many pieces of parchment scattered about on his table.

    Sar''tara had seen a similar mess at the command tent, thinking them cloth strips at first. She looked over his shoulder, trying to make sense of the markings upon the pages. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface of a sheet. "What does this one say?"

    "That''s a filtered report written by Lord Ravaya. He served during my grandfather''s reign and spends spare time summarizing things for me now. It reads ''Spending Costs & General Reconnaissance Report for Elaina''s Tenth cycle, Year 4221 of the Secind Calendar''. He misspelled ''Second.'' Do you want me to read the entire report? Most of it won''t even make sense to you."

    Sar''tara nodded. Perhaps she could gain an inkling about the reading process. Maybe even surprise him by learning it all at once.

    Kalin frowned briefly, then shrugged. "Had to read it anyway:

    <ol>

    <li>A full chest of silver crowns spent on grains, and ale. One and one half on beef and pork¡­</li>

    </ol>

    "Beef is expensive. Perhaps asking the farmers to raise sheep instead¡­

    <ol start="2">

    <li>Servants and chef salary for this lunar month: A quarter chest of silver</li>

    <li>Soldier''s salary: A full chest of gold halves</li>

    <li>Garrison maintenance: None</li>

    <li>Blacksmiths and stable boys: Fifty silver crowns to the smiths and ten copper crowns to the stable boys</li>

    <li>Iron costs: 120 gold crowns (15 more than last year)</li>

    </ol>

    "Fifteen? Scorch High House Galadin. If only Xenaria had more iron mines¡­

    General Reports: Astral Union has burnt down a forest within our territory. Inquisition legions last spotted near Stoneport as well as the Capital. There has also been a legion spotted across the border along the Cinder River, north of the Garrison.

    A contingent of assumed Ivory Hussars were spotted moving towards western Tarmia. Rumors state Idris Khan at their head. (Unconfirmed).

    "Idris¡­ That''s troubling. And a legion hovering between the borders. Who knows what schemes they could be up to.

    News from the capital: Crown Princess Dahlia has announced her engagement to Madrivall of House Aegis."

    Kalin coughed. "What?"

    "Is something wrong?" Sar''tara asked, completely oblivious to everything he just read. She also didn''t manage to learn anything about reading. Other than the fact that such a vast amount of words could be contained on so small a sheet.

    Kalin looked up at her. Then back down on the sheet of paper. Then back at her. He shook his head and left the page in a corner on the table.

    "Was that all?" she asked.

    "Yes. Now, I just have to spend the rest of today crafting three different rejection letters to the best of my ability." He stood up and pulled out a thick book from the top most level of a shelf.

    Sar''tara ran her hand over the book''s leather cover, sucking in a breath through her mouth. "What kind of information does this book have?"

    "This. This is my lifeline. It keeps my sanity. A record of all nobility in Xenaria, no matter how minor they may be. Their information is kept here. The scribes at Metsiphon struggle to provide me with an updated copy every year. I use it to create appropriate rejections for proposals I receive. Being an aristocrat is more a burden than some would believe."

    "Proposals for what?" she asked.

    "Something too troublesome," he sighed. "Even though they''re all beneath me, I have to put such care into these, or they''ll use my poor wording to drag my name through the mud."

    Sar''tara tilted her head. "Are you not respected? All your soldiers seem to respect you."

    "I''m respected all right. Too much in fact. That''s why I get such letters despite there being no chance of me accepting." Kalin took out a blank sheet. He dipped a pen tip in a jar of black liquid and began writing.

    "I don''t follow," Sar''tara said, watching the writing process with amusement. She reached out to touch the markings he was writing. He swatted her hand away.

    "You must let it dry first or it will smudge."

    "Sorry¡­ but I still don''t quite understand. Why must you put care into what you write when they''re trying to hurt you?"

    Kalin read over the line he''d written multiple times. He then quickly wrote four more markings and read over the line again. His free hand fist clenched shut. "Argh. That doesn''t fit quite right." He crumpled the page and pushed it aside. "Who was this for again?" he mused, looking over a letter. "House Reeln¡­ Never heard of them." Kalin flipped through the thick tome before him. "House Reeln. House Reeln. Reeln. Ah, there it is." Sar''tara crossed her arms, waiting for a response as his eyes skimmed through the page. He then frowned and unravelled the crumpled paper he''d been writing on. "Hmm. Maybe that word does fit¡­ But I''ve already crumpled it."

    "So what? You cannot use it?"

    "That would be disrespectful. I must put care into it to protect the Serene name."

    "Would your standing decrease if the words you write aren''t adequate?"

    "Well, no."

    She crossed her arms. "So you would still be this duke of Xenaria?"

    "Yes. As duke, I rank beneath the queen only. But poorly written letters would cause unsavory rumors."

    Sar''tara leaned in, bringing her face close to his. She let a wicked grin spread on her face. "So you mean to tell me, Kalin Serene fears words?"

    "That''s not¡­"

    "That''s not what? If you rank second highest, why pretend to be anything lower than that?" She spread out the crumpled page and straightened it as best she could. "Go on. Write. Read it out to me!"

    He paused. She couldn''t understand his hesitation. A frown still remained on his face. Parts of his skin pressed against each other, creating lines. He finally let out an exhale and eased his expression. He looked her in the eyes, the corners of his mouth curling ever slightly. "So carefree¡­ Just as an eagle should be."

    "Hmm?"

    He shook his head. He once again dipped the pen in a jar of black and began writing. Sar''tara stared, eyes following every new marking he made, mesmerized by the process. Only the sounds of the pen tip dragging along the parchment filled the small room.

    "Dear Lady Reeln," Kalin read once finished. "Thank you very much for allowing me the opportunity to consider this proposal. Unfortunately, I do not feel as if I would be the right person to be your partner and will pass on this offer at this time. I wish you the best of luck in the future. Once again, thank you." Kalin scratched at his beard again. "Hmm. Seems a bit crude given I didn''t even mention the lady''s first name. But the proposal didn''t mention a name either. They expect me to already have knowledge on their family members when I haven''t even heard of their name. Do you think it works?" Kalin asked rhetorically.

    Sar''tara peered at the words, looking at them upside down from where she stood. "Why must you say thank you? Twice too. You aren''t truly thankful."

    The duke laughed. "I have to maintain a degree of politeness lest they turn hostile towards me. Thank you, Sar''tara. It feels as if a weight has been lifted from my chest. I will respond to the remaining proposals in this manner. Though, I suppose I should look to accepting one since Dahlia¡­" His eyes drifted back to hers.

    "Was that a genuine ''thank you''?" She twisted her mouth, arms still crossed. "Or a ''thank you'' like the one you''ve written."

    "Genuine," Kalin said.

 Chapter 31: Family

    <u>Chapter 31 - Family</u>

    Several days had passed since Sar''tara first arrived at the garrison. She stood tall in an open training field, back straight and flexing as she drew back the string of a longbow. She turned her head to look away from her target. Twang! The surprised gasps of other soldiers was all she needed to confirm a perfect shot. Hundreds of different faces had come and gone to catch a glimpse of the last battle''s hero. They began calling her ''The Huntress'', stating that every worthy warrior had an epithet attached to them. Kalin''s was the ''Shining General''.

    Sar''tara emptied her quiver, hitting every target dead in the center. The soldiers tried mimicking her form, some having a bit of success whilst others failed miserably. The young man named Faren had improved the most. He was talented. He claimed to have never used a bow but was barely missing three shots out of every ten since starting a few days prior.

    Sar''tara hummed the rhyme Faren had taught her while retrieving her arrows. "A, b, c, d, e, f, g¡­" Kalin had assigned him to be her mentor. During mornings, he taught her the basics of reading. After that, she learned the plains dweller methods of swordsmanship and field strategy with the young captain''s unit. He seemed content with allowing her to take command of the five hundred soldiers he was charged with, only stepping in to correct errors.

    Sar''tara wasn''t certain about what to feel. Plains dwellers lived so differently. They distanced themselves from their clear superiors, admiring them from afar. Words of praise were nice to hear, but she wanted more. Sar''tara desired a family. Everyone was kind to her, but that was limited to when they even bothered to speak to her. Faren was much the same. Though her tutor, he talked with an overwhelming amount of respect and more distanced himself at times.

    Arrows retrieved, Sar''tara returned to her starting position. During evenings, it was her turn to teach Faren''s unit archery. The unit was comprised of young men around or below her age. Much to Kalin''s dismay, most of the unit had supposedly never used bows and arrows. The rest were inexperienced. Sar''tara saw a young soldier pester his captain for instruction. She made her way over.

    "How do you do it so effortlessly, Far-er, Captain Faren?"

    "Effortless? My back feels as if it''s been trampled upon. Besides, I''m not the teacher here. Go and ask Lady Sar''tara."

    "But¡ª"

    "Can I help with anything, Benj?" she asked. She had been trying her hardest to learn everyone''s names.

    Benj''s eyes glowed. He seemed delighted to have his name remembered. His gaze instantly dropped down right after, color appearing on his cheeks. "I-I mean, how does¡­ I mean how do you shoot so perfectly?"

    Sar''tara wore a smile, melancholy hidden behind it. He sounded just like a seven year old Vashiri with his stutters. Asked questions like them too. Though, unlike Vashiri girls, the soldiers seemed to refuse meeting her eye. She was told it was something to do with her attire. Kalin had gotten her a pair of breeches and boots to use. He''d also gotten her a shirt as well, though she refused to wear it and opted for her deerskin top instead. Covering her arms and belly felt too restricting.

    Sar''tara nocked an arrow and drew back. "Follow my movements. Breathe in when drawing back. Look at your target." Benj did as he was told, though his fingers twitched with nervousness every once in a while. "Breathe. Relax. Feel the air upon your face. Feel yourself within the arrow. Become one with it and¡­" how many times had she repeated those exact words when helping with the younger Selharr''s training? "And only then will it fly true."

    Twang!

    She released and watched the arrow pierce a red circle painted upon a wooden board in the distance. Her eyes clenched shut at the moment of impact, imagining the sound of an arrowhead sinking into flesh, the red target like a blood splatter stuck in her mind. Everyone was gone. Even little Tavi. Had they killed her too? Had they killed a child, or had Tavi been claimed by the flames?

    Twang! Benj loosed as well. His arrow fell short a few feet.

    Sar''tara swallowed her pain. She couldn''t doubt herself. Not now. She needed to become a soldier. Needed a higher standing to attain vengeance. To ensure the Lord Sun could never again harm others. But still, a family¡­ Surrounded by so many people that admired her, and yet she still felt alone. Abandoned.

    "Lady Sar''tara," Faren began, "with all due respect, those instructions are a bit unclear¡­"

    Sar''tara quickly blinked back her tears. "Hmm? But this is how my sisters taught me. I''ve been saying the same things since a few days back. No one''s said it was unclear then."

    "It is a bit vague," Benj mumbled.

    "Too vague," Faren corrected. "I picked up on it rather quickly. But as you can see, most others are struggling. They didn''t understand your words and simply opted to observing you instead. None of them complained because they were too shy."

    "Too shy? When this matter concerns their life in a battle?" Sar''tara frowned. "I really can''t understand the customs of plains dwellers. Archery isn¡¯t something learned so quickly. You''re talented and thus learn faster. It will take time for them."

    "Then let me ask you this, my lady. Your younger sisters that you''ve spoken to me about. Did they pick up archery quickly?"

    "Of course! The Selharr Vashiri is a tribe of archers. Everyone learns from the age of eight. We are all gifted. Most Selharr can hit a stationary target nine times out of ten within a few days of being taught."

    "That''s it exactly. I spoke to some of my colleagues from House Serene''s artillery divisions. Picking up archery is not something they found to be particularly difficult. Mastering it to a level my lady is at is a different matter. But these young men can''t even do what most beginners can."

    Sar''tara scowled. "Then were my sisters not talented?"

    "Perhaps some were. Perhaps some weren''t. You said it yourself. Your tribe was one of archery. Even if some of your sisters weren''t talented, years of effort made up for it. I''m not saying your teaching methods are incorrect, Lady Sar''tara, but more so your words don''t reach most of these soldiers. When you tell us to be one with the arrow, what you truly mean is to account for wind direction and resistance."

    Sar''tara cocked her head. Everyone in Faren''s unit addressed her as ''my lady'' or ''Lady Sar''tara''. She''d come to learn that it was some manner of an honorific title. "Is accounting for resistance not obvious?"

    Benj shifted his feet, blushing hard. "It is now," he mumbled.

    "Then show us if it has had an impact, soldier," Faren commanded. Benj nodded. He nocked and drew back. He held his breath as he loosed. The arrow struck the corner of the target board. "Much better than before," the captain praised. "Keep practicing."

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    Benj nodded, running off towards a group of other trainees. Sar''tara looked to the ground. She felt embarrassed. "Thank you, captain. This has been insightful. This is my time to be teaching and yet I''m the one taking instruction still."

    "It has been my pleasure to serve, my lady. You are still leagues above everyone when it comes to your instinct and skill. We have much to learn from you. It''s getting late. I think we should call it a day."

    Sar''tara nodded. She called for everyone to clean up and then followed the captain to the mess hall. Faren had also been tasked with guiding her throughout the fortress. They arrived at the mess hall, soldiers of Faren''s unit trickling in one by one soon after. There was never a moment during the day that the hall was empty. Each soldier had their own times for eating. The hall was a massive enclosed space filled with wooden benches and tables. Things called chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one carrying a half dozen bright luminite stones ¡ªstones that glowed with a pale light akin to the moon.

    Faren brought over two bowls of steaming stew along with fresh bread and cheese. "I''ve been meaning to ask," Sar''tara began, "how are those glowing stones made?"

    "Luminite? They come from the mines at the Vega Crater. Folklore says a piece of Vega fell from the sky. Faulty reasoning if you ask me. Luminite comes in shades of orange and blue as well. White ones are the most expensive, going for a gold half per palm sized piece."

    Sar''tara nodded thoughtfully. Her knowledge of currency and trade had increased within the past few days. Faren had taught her much. Gold crowns had the most value whilst gold halves came in second.

    "My lady, I still don''t think it appropriate for you to be eating in the mess hall."

    "Why not?" Sar''tara asked, ignoring her spoon and sipping from her bowl. Almost everything the Xenarians ate contained salt.

    "Well, you and Lord Serene¡­" he paused as if waiting for her to say something. "As per our customs, those above us do not dine with those beneath. It may reduce the respect and admiration soldiers feel for their leader if they saw them in the same light as their fellow soldiers."

    "But Kalin eats here sometimes."

    "Sometimes. The Lord Commander chooses to eat here when he is extremely busy. It is more convenient for him to come down for a bite rather than take the time to call a servant up to his quarters. If it were up to him, he would not be eating here at all."

    A truly strange people. "A meal tastes better when shared with others," she countered. When shared with family.

    "I suppose," he shrugged. "I''ll go get some ale."

    ***

    The sun had already set by the time they left the mess hall. Faren bid her a good night, leaving to go to the soldier''s sleeping quarters. Sar''tara made her way through the fortress, too embarrassed to ask for direction. She''d thought she had somewhat memorized the path to Kalin''s quarters, though it was difficult to tell at night with light coming through windows being scarce. Even with burning braziers, the change in lighting was too great. Not every hall had windows either. There was nothing of note she could use as a landmark. Every guard dressed the same. They rotated shifts so memorizing their faces didn''t work. Each brazier was fashioned similarly, and windows, rare as they were, were all the same size.

    Sar''tara looked to the stone floor as her boots clacked with each step. Her eyes felt heavy. She rubbed her arms, though not particularly cold. She did it to ward off the dark, wishing she were back at the forest. Wishing she could once again look to the glowing lights of everflowers. Once again see her smiling sisters.

    She did feel cold.

    A feeling rooted inside her chest. Her feet edged closer to the walls as she continued along an unknown corridor. Her heart wished for warmth. It was drawn to a brazier. She looked up again, down the remaining length of the passage, at the dancing flames on the wall. Flames eating through limbs of wood just as branches¡­

    Sar''tara''s feet moved faster. Her breath began to quicken. Everything around her became a blur. Orange lights passed her by. A burning forest materialized. She tripped and fell in an empty passage, face hitting cold stone. Sar''tara lay there for a moment, hugging herself, feeling the dull ache on her cheekbone. She slowly picked herself back up, a tear drop falling out of her eye. She pulled herself to a window, pausing to breathe, feeling suffocated by the walls. The strange clothing she wore was of little help. The breeches were tight against her skin and the boots felt apprehensive, as if imprisoning her feet.

    Sar''tara looked outside the window. Evernight clouds shrouded the stars. She''d unconsciously come to the highest part of the fortress. The mess hall was on the first floor. She eventually came upon the familiar short hallway with two doors. She thought to knock on the right most door where Kalin holed himself for most of the day. He only ever spent early mornings out of it. Those were spent refining his already graceful swordsmanship skills. Sar''tara could hear him grumbling behind the door. Even without worrying about proposals from others, he still had much more work to do. He never did tell her what the proposals were for.

    Sar''tara entered the room to the left and closed the door behind her. The room was as large as the huts she and her sisters would sleep in. It held a single bed, an unlit hearth, a large wooden box called a wardrobe, and a smaller shelf with thinner books. These held works of fiction meant to be read for entertainment. Stories inspired by the ancient past.

    A window to the far side of the room was blocked off by a clear object known as glass. One of the only glass windows in the castle. There was a handle at the bottom with which the window could be opened. Sar''tara twisted the handle and pulled, letting chilly air in. She looked outside. Below she could see multiple training fields as well as the stables where horses were kept. Everyone looked like ants from so far up. Everyone save for Jengard Rask, who she recognized instantly. His size was greater than that of anyone else she''d seen in the garrison. He was sparring with a few others even though the sun had set. "The Wolf of Metsiphon¡­" she muttered, "I wonder what Kiali would have thought of you."

    Kiali. Her poor sister, slain by her own Mother. Perhaps if Ny''Danis had treated her daughters more like a close knit family, the forest would still be standing. Her sisters would still be alive. Ny''Danis had made mistakes. Unforgiveable mistakes. And yet, somehow, Sar''tara couldn''t fully bring herself to hate her Mother. Part of her still wanted to curl up in Ny''Danis'' lap and listen to her melodic voice tell stories.

    "Ny''Danis, Ny''Danis, the beautiful forest goddess¡­"

    Sar''tara sat down on the bed, taking a blue covered book with her. She flipped through its fragile pages, running her fingers along the text as if it would help her understand them. She waited, still cold and alone. Kalin was bound to come at some point. She looked up at the open window. A hollow wind brushed along her skin, threatening to freeze her already chilled heart. She shut the window, staring up at the sky for a while and counting stars as a hole formed in the dark grey ceiling. Time continued to pass. A heavy ache settled in her chest. She recalled Kalin''s earlier words, wondering if he would truly leave her alone. A part of her felt abandoned, not having seen him for a whole day. Adapting in a foreign environment was difficult.

    Forgetting memories of the burning forest, even more so.

    She would never forget that night even if she completed her vengeance. A part of her would always remain attached to the memories of her fallen family and home. Attached to the memory of teaching the young Selharr, of dancing around a bonfire when a sister returned from a successful hunt, of the smiling nymphs that she once disliked. Regret filled her for not having loved the nymphs more. She''d played with them as a child but had grown to dislike them as an adult.

    She sighed, tears welling at the edges of her eyes. She wondered if she would ever feel at home within the plains. While Kalin''s soldiers seemed happy with her, she didn''t feel at ease with them. She didn''t know them well, and a part of her feared them. They weren''t people she could open up to. Speak her worries to. She''d felt a bond with Meredith, but she hadn''t seen the physic since arriving at the fortress. Kalin was the only other person she felt comfortable around. He treated her as an equal. Held her every night. Kept her back warm. Caressed her head when she asked of it.

    Sar''tara stood up and opened the wardrobe. Her leather skirt had been folded and left to one side. She stripped herself of her boots and breeches and put on the familiar garment. It made her feel more relaxed. She sat back down on the bed. It was colder than before. As cold as the floor against the soles of her feet. She sat with her knees tucked in, wondering when Kalin would return. Her eyes passed over the hearth. She''d seen him light it with flint and iron. She tried a similar method and flames came to life, enveloping the room in an orange glow, causing unwanted memories to surface once more.

    The door to the room finally opened and a tired Kalin walked in. Sar''tara jumped up and ran to hug him before he''d gotten the door fully closed, surprising even herself. A single tear made its way down the length of her face. The lingering fear within her retreated to its dark corner. "Hold me," she breathed.

    Kalin was either too surprised himself, or too tired. "What?" he asked lazily, not returning her embrace.

    "Spoil me with your affection. Please? It''s so cold."

    The duke finally put his arms around her. Sar''tara pressed harder against his body, finding shelter in his warmth. She clutched fistfuls of his shirt and closed her eyes as he showered her with kisses.

 Chapter 32: The Constellations

    <u>Chapter 32 - The Constellations</u>

    <hr>

    Several Months Later...

    <hr>

    The Sun twirled a Crown of Control on his finger while flipping through the pages of a thick tome. It was titled Fall of Flames. A history book of his own creation, narrating the timely demise of House Zz''tai. Narrating as many details as he could uncover regarding their corruption and their secret plots to give rise to a new Tortured Throne. The journey in collecting such details had taken many years. "Many lifetimes," The Sun grumbled, glancing at the slight wrinkles on the skin of his hands.

    A subtle knock on the open door to his office room stole his attention. He turned around, lazily looking at the out of breath maid that had climbed the tower. She wore a bright yellow dress, half-sleeved, that reached down to her ankles. One of The Sun''s personal maids. The other servants of the citadel wore black with spotted white.

    He clicked his tongue. "Yes?" he asked. Her cheeks were caved in and her arms slender. Too slender. She hardly ate by the looks. It was no wonder climbing the tower had exhausted her so. She would need to be replaced.

    "Your Brilliance, the Constellations are here," the maid finally said.

    The Sun couldn''t tell how old she was with those drained features. She could easily pass for a girl in her teens as well as a starved middle aged woman. "So you say, but only two have probably returned no? Well, what does it matter? There''s only four left anyway. The rest died of the aging disease."

    The maid nodded. "Only two. Judge Lacerta and Judge Orion."

    The Sun turned back to his table. He greedily eyed the small Gate Stones set in one corner. It would be so convenient to just use them to travel to the meeting chamber. But then he would have to make more, paying a portion of his own lifespan to create and use the object. He grunted. He wasn''t in any particular hurry. Not anymore now that he''d obtained many useful Artifacts. He could play the patient game and take his time in bringing Xenaria to its knees.

    He grabbed the stones and cast them into the drawers of his table. They skipped over a few loose pages. Plans that he''d devised over the last few months. He took them out and then headed out the door. The maid closed and locked the door behind him, using every fibre of her existence to pull the heavy thing shut. She then followed him down the flight of stairs.

    The Sun closed his eyes, letting air clash with his face as his feet swiftly carried him along. Not a single strand of his ash colored hair moved. It had been combed back and held firm with gel, the lowest of its length sticking to the back of his neck. He had no fear of falling. No fear of bumping into something. Or someone. He''d lived in the citadel for a long time. He knew exactly how many steps the tower had. Exactly how many steps it took him to reach the meeting chamber. No one would dare to bump into him either.

    He had nearly reached the bottom of his tower when he heard the clacking footsteps of his maid''s shoes finally catching up to him. She was out of breath again. He hadn''t given her any explicit orders to follow him, yet she followed regardless, thinking it expected.

    It wasn''t.

    She would most definitely be replaced. He hardly let his footfalls make a sound as he carried on through the wide halls of the Thousand Sun City''s citadel, white robes billowing with his strides. Smooth and polished floors showed blurred reflections of everything above. Every hall was lit with orange luminite, the least expensive of luminite stones. Replacing them with the purity of white luminite would be ideal, but Tarmia''s merchants charged enough to buy small mansions. Funds were better spent on the city''s defenses.

    The Sun arrived at the meeting chamber, a half circle gate standing in his path. Two guards in full plated suits and wearing star cloaks stood on either side. They opened the gate with quick efficiency and put a hand to their chests, lowering their heads as he passed by. He entered the dimly lit chamber, the gates colliding shut behind him, their sounds echoing through the mostly empty room. The Sun thought he''d heard the slight high pitched voice of his maid as the doors were closed before she could enter. Now why would that silly thing believe she were welcome in a meeting with the holy judges and myself.

    Lesser peoples were so strange at times. Or just stupid. Probably the latter, he thought. He was, after all, a great scholar. Expecting others to be as wise and accomplished as himself was irrational. Then perhaps teaching the maid of her proper duties would be more efficient rather than replacing her. "Yes. That would be best," he breathed. No use throwing her away or using her for Chronary experiments when she was so thin.

    The sun approached the round table at the center of the vast chamber. Two men stood waiting by their designated seats. They bowed their heads, waiting for their master to first take his seat before they took their own. The one to his right was a man with emerald colored eyes and a fair complexion. Judge Orion he was called, and his charge was hunting the last of the Flame Bearers.

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    The man to the left was wiry but tall. He had a plain face and hair the color of rust. Judge Lacerta. He had a fidgety personality and wasn''t always careful, but he carried his tasks out well and was good at manipulating others.

    The other two remaining Judges hadn''t returned. The Sun thought to increase the number of Constellations. There were a few others that he had in mind that were qualified to have a seat amongst the rulers of the Thousand Sun City. His eyes looked over the papers in his hands. He squinted to catch a better look, dim lighting of the chamber making reading a nuisance. There no longer was a need for more Constellations. Just a few more years out of the many he''d patiently waited. Just a few more and all of his plans would bear fruition.

    "Speak. Lacerta, what news from the desert?" The Sun asked.

    "There is little news, brilliance. The Illeyan Alliance remains the same as it''s always been. Weak by Xenarian or Tarmian standards, but the lands are mostly barren and hot. Few have the desire to conquer such lands."

    "Speak of what is new. Not of what is known," The Sun hissed.

    "I believe I may have found a few Shieda. Two actually. I used a Gate Stone to return here. I will need another to get back to the desert."

    The Sun raised an eyebrow. The Shieda were an ancient clan of faceless people who could traverse through shadows. They were shunned by society and lived in isolation. Few still remained in the world. "Two Shadow Walkers? Do you want to use the Thousand Sun Sword?" To steal the ability of traversing shadows with the Sun Sword would be a heavenly blessing.

    "Not yet. If they can be used, I can bring the Alliance to its knees. Once they''ve run their usefulness, I''ll borrow the sword and kill them."

    The Sun nodded. Lacerta. Often annoying. But worthy of being a Constellation regardless. The Shieda race were the perfect assassins. They were darkspawn. But sometimes, using a darkspawn was necessary. Especially for the Illeyan Alliance. Most people living in the southern deserts were pagans. They needed to be oppressed before Goddess Trillia was introduced to them. A weakened people would more readily accept a new faith. "Have you made contact?"

    "No, brilliance," Lacerta said honestly. "Can''t afford to frighten them away. They''re hated by the average person after all. I''m taking my time. Which reminds me, has anyone heard from Judge Cass?"

    "Judge Cassiopeia is still in Eurale''s Eye, serving as an advisor to King Agram," Orion said, his voice carrying a deep commanding air. Lacerta nodded thoughtfully.

    "And you, Orion? What news do you have?"

    "First, I would like to voice my opinion against the use of Shadow Walkers. There is no need to use darkspawn. I''d much rather hire the Wickar if dirty work needs doing."

    "Wickar who are said to be half-blood descendants of Shadow Walkers?" The Sun asked.

    "That isn''t a confirmed truth. It''s only mentioned as a rumor in certain texts. Of course, the will of Your Brilliance is absolute. You are the scholar amongst us. If those texts are deemed credible by you, I will abide by your decisions."

    The Sun nodded. Truth, after all, was a weapon. Put to a grinder to chip away at the dull edges and it becomes a sword as sharp as any. Dear Orion. The man was a complete zealot. His loyalty was not in his leader, but rather in the Union''s cause. He devoted every fibre of his being to eradicating darkspawn. That also came with its own set of problems. He often asked too many questions. But so long as Orion was convinced on a matter, he carried out his tasks no matter how vicious the methods needed to be.

    "If I may, brilliance, amongst the forest witches that were killed, were there not children? And was one not¡ª"

    "Orion!" The Sun cried, fist banging against the table. "Your actions aren''t matching your words. Is this what you call abiding?"

    "Forgive me, Your Brilliance," Orion said, keeping his head low.

    "What news do you have for me of your quarry?" The Sun asked.

    "Balihann Barcid Zz''tai is dead. Not by my own hand, unfortunately. The problem is, while the face certainly looked akin to his, I have lingering doubts. I''d been chasing him for much of my youth. By Your Brilliance''s kindness, I was promoted to the position of a Constellation Judge for having kept up with him for so long. Now that my task has ended¡­ My doubts do not stem from my feelings of emptiness, Lord Sun. I''m simply unconvinced a Flame Bearer that has eluded me for so long died at the hands of mere thieves."

    "But you did confirm the face?"

    "Yes, Your Brilliance. It was undoubtedly his. Body structure seemed slightly off though."

    "If you confirmed his face, then move on. Balihann had a daughter, no?"

    "Yes. Lera Ignis Zz''tai. He''d abandoned her long ago. She should be in her early to mid-twenties I believe."

    "Do you have a drop of Balihann''s blood by any chance?" The Sun asked. Orion shook his head in response. "Mm. A shame." The Lineage Mirror Artifact could have been used to locate her if her father''s blood had been available. "The Flame Bearers receive their Flames at the age of twenty-one. Balihann was already a handful. Do you have a location on this girl?"

    "No, brilliance. I don''t know where they parted ways. But I swear to use everything at my disposal to hunt her down."

    "She should be the last of High House Zz''tai. Be wary, Orion. An abandoned girl has little ways to survive on her own. One of those ways can quickly lead to the creation of more offspring. We cannot have any more Flame Bearers. Their legacy must be erased." The Sun passed along the papers in his hands. "Designs for conquering Xenaria. What do you make of this?"

    "¡­A careful design¡­" Lacerta commented. "Has Judge Vulpecula been shown this?"

    The Sun''s flinched. The matter had left his mind. Judge Vul hadn''t been recalled yet. He''d been tasked with fanning flames between Tarmia and Xenaria. On the offhand chance that he failed, it could lead to an alliance between the two great nations. The last thing the Thousand Sun City wanted. "One of you, I don''t care who, send an immediate message to Judge Vul. Have him return immed¡ª"

    The gates to the chamber slammed open. One of the star cloaked guards rushed in. In his hands were a sealed envelope titled ''urgent''. The red seal was that of a three pointed star. They were seals given to only the Constellation Judges. The Sun tore open the envelope. In it was news, neither good nor bad. Vulpecula had drawn the two nations into a struggle again, and through crude means at that¡­.

    Whether the flames would grow to a full blown war had yet to be seen. The Sun let out a sigh. He didn¡¯t have control of the situation. He hated that. He always had control. That was how the Thousand Sun City had grown to become the power that it was. What worried him was Vulpecula''s ambitions and oft lacking caution. Both Kazir and Kalin weren''t fool enough to have not noticed something amiss. Ashes. Must I now wait for the results?

 Chapter 33: Promotions, Demotions, & Premonitions

    <u>Chapter 33 - Promotions, Demotions, & Premonitions</u>

    Despite the cold, Kalin opened the window to his office room. He felt the need to breathe fresh air. Thin sheets of snow covered the surfaces of the garrison''s many roofs. A pleasant sight, he thought. Snowfall wasn''t particularly heavy in Xenaria''s southern regions. Outdoor training grounds were easily cleared away by the soldiers.

    Kalin had finally managed to get through all of his paperwork. It was time to return to Metsiphon. He slumped back in his chair and stared at the soil filled flowerpot sitting at the corner of his table. Sar''tara had brought it up without explaining her reasoning. She was reading aloud the condensed report for the current lunar month.

    "Spending Costs & General Reconnaissance Report for Elaina''s third cycle, Year 4222 of the Second Calendar," she said, reading it with slight stutters. Kalin smiled. She had picked up on it faster than he''d expected. He closed his eyes and let her read out the entire report, indulging in the sound of her voice. "Iron costs, one-two-five gold crowns." Sar''tara frowned. "One-two-five. A hundred and twenty-five. Is that not five more than the tenth month of last year?"

    "So it is¡­ I''ll need to have a word with Jasim Galadin. What is this flowerpot for, Sar''tara?"

    "You said you wanted a lamp. Luminite is expensive so I thought a flower instead¡­"

    He frowned at her.

    "You''ll see when the sun sets," she assured him with a childish grin.

    Kalin shrugged and looked away. Despite his temporary freedom from paperwork, he didn''t feel very relieved. He felt as if a hand was slowly enclosing itself around his heart. Sar''tara always looked forward to spending nights with him. She would often wake in the middle, crying into his chest and he would comfort her. Her nightmares had lessened of late and she consistently thanked him for it. Kalin ground his teeth and swallowed hard. Sar''tara thought their relationship wholesome. He saw it different. It was illicit and wrong. It wasn''t how he was raised. The mainline family of House Serene had maintained an impeccable reputation for centuries and he''d become the first of the bloodline to break the vows he''d taken before his parents.

    Kalin had eventually mustered the courage to explain to her what their relationship meant. Explain to her what it is that could result from it. The thought of explaining that to a grown woman brought heat to his face. Sar''tara had seemed disaffected by the explanation, rather taking it as confirmation that he loved her.

    Kalin didn¡¯t have the heart to tell her the truth. She needed him as a pillar. Needed him to mend her heart. He knew that. He had observed her from afar at times during the last few months. She laughed about with others, though never truly fitting in. The soldiers distanced themselves from her. Some called her the lady of House Serene, fearing and respecting her as their superior. Others had labelled her his mistress ¡ªthe one rumor Kalin had feared. A looming shadow hung over his head. One that bore down on him with every passing day. He feared leaving an even deeper wound in her chest than the one he was supposed to mend.

    But Sar''tara had made his life much easier. Since learning to read, she would aid him through his paperwork, oft proffering sound advice that he''d once thought rash. He kept his marriage proposals away from her, not wanting her to find out what they were for. He wanted to keep her by his side. Wanted it desperately. But he didn''t dare chain up a free spirit like Sar''tara. She was too easy going. Wedding her would be to clip the very wings of hers that brought joy into his life. She''d be subject to the worst forms of treatment in social gatherings and consistent insults would undoubtedly find their way to her in the form of letters. It pained him to see tears within her beautiful green eyes.

    Then keep her at your side and prevent her from crying ever. Kalin didn''t know if he was strong enough to make such a decision.

    "What''s wrong? Is there something on my face?" she asked.

    He shook his head, realizing he''d been staring at her. "No. I just got lost in your forest."

    "Forest¡­ If only I could see what you claim to see in my eyes."

    "Sar''tara, I didn''t mean to hurt you."

    "I''m not hurt. I''d just like to be in a forest again."

    "There are other forests in Xenaria. We could visit them if you''d like. Perhaps during summers when the roads clear." Her eyes lit up. It made him smile. Much of her early adorable reactions to learning new things had disappeared. It almost felt nostalgic to see her like this again. "Of course, tomorrow, we''re leaving for Metsiphon. The queen''s coronation is part way through the sowing season. You will likely get to see the capital city of Xenaria as well. It is the largest city of this nation." What are you saying Kalin? You''d bring her to the very social events you want to keep her from?

    Sar''tara''s eyes twinkled just as a child receiving their most wanted gift on their birthday. "Largest¡­ and grandest?"

    "Hmm. I think Metsiphon is grander. Though, that may be my personal bias since I was raised there." Kalin glanced over the report she''d just read. His eyes lingered on the last bit. A Union inquisition legion was still hovering around the Estr¨¦ Forest near the border between Xenaria and Tarmia. Inquisition legions normally travelled around to settlements seeking ''darkspawn''.

    "Did I err in my readings?" Sar''tara asked, noticing his gaze.

    "No." Kalin didn¡¯t mention his worries to her lest her smile disappear. She''d read over the part about the Union without flinching. "I''ve completed your paperwork as well. You''re officially a soldier of House Serene. I''ll be assigning you as an aid to Captain Faren."

    "Can I be higher? Faren treats me as the leader."

    Kalin pinched the top of his nose. "Why am I not surprised. Much of the day still remains. How about you show me what you''ve learned in regards to our methods of battle?" Sar''tara''s expression turned stern. She gave a sharp and energetic salute to which he was surprised by. The same kind of salute boys at the garrison''s academy were forced to repeat on end to instill respect and discipline. Except she was wearing her usual clothing rather than a uniform. It looked¡­ silly in an endearing sort of way. He made no mention of it, suppressing a laugh behind a twitching mouth and standing up to acknowledge the salute.

    Captain Faren''s newly comprised unit of five hundred was meant as a prototype to match the mobile riders from the Empire''s southern regions. A unit comprised of young men skilled at riding horses. The one thing they lacked was archery skills and Sar''tara''s addition was quickly closing that gap. Faren reported much improvement in that regard. Kalin thought it fitting to put Sar''tara in a lightly equipped cavalry unit. To let her fly freely on a battlefield and disrupt enemies with pestering arrows as well as hunt down any slow retreaters.

    "Your Grace!" Faren saluted, once Kalin and Sar''tara had reached the ground floor.

    "Gather your unit, Captain. Show me what you''ve learned."

    The young man gave a sharp nod. He half-heartedly called for his unit to gather around. Kalin frowned. Sar''tara stepped in and relayed the same orders, screaming. Her commands were met with immediate obedience. Kalin pulled his soldier aside. "Captain! What is the meaning of this?"

    Faren gave a nonchalant shrug. "I''m sure I''ve written a report on Lady Sar''tara''s vast improvements. I''ve given my approval as her higher to have her promoted to the same rank as me."

    Kalin''s temper flared. "You don''t want to be near her then?" he hissed. "I''ve assigned her as your aide. If she''s promoted, she''ll be transferred to an entirely new unit. Are you trying to be rid of her?"

    "Apologies, grace. That isn''t my intent. Given your reaction, the report is likely still stuck with Commander Rask and has yet to reach you. As much as it hurts what little pride I have, Lady Serene has outdone even me within a few short months. I sincerely believe her to be more fit to be this unit''s captain."

    Kalin scratched at his beard. "I don''t follow. Are you asking to be assigned a different unit?" Or was he still going on about his ''undeserved'' promotion?

    "Hardly. The lady is unfamiliar with a few things still. It has been my pleasure to serve her and teach her about our ways. I wish to continue doing that. But of course, given your reactions, the reports of my misconduct have yet to reach you as well."

    "Misconduct?" Kalin asked with narrowed eyes.

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    The eighteen year old smiled brightly as he began tattling on himself. "The fact that Lady Sar''tara and I ran a gambling ring in the mess hall and swindled soldiers out of their money? We bet on who could hold their drinks. She really can hold her liquor. Oh, and before this blows back on her as well, I fully admit to coercing her into such behaviour. She is also ignorant to its wrongful nature. I do believe a minor offense like this should lead me to either a month of incarceration or a slight demotion and pay cut should my rank be high enough?"

    Kalin was taken aback. He did recall seeing a fat purse in his wardrobe next to Sar''tara''s clothes, though he''d never bothered to question it. Despite having been played, he didn''t find himself hating the situation. Faren had played his cards perfectly. A slight demotion would cause him to become the aide to ''Captain Sar''tara'', assuming her promotion went through. The boy was shrewd for his age. "Given everything, I should perhaps train you to be a spy instead, Captain. I can see how you ended up in a position of leadership despite your age. I''ll consider your propositions after today. For now I want to see with my own eyes whether Sar''tara is truly as remarkable as you claim."

    Faren bowed and led himself away. Kalin asked for his own horse to be brought out and saddled. He led Faren''s unit outside of the garrison to the flat grounds past the hill where cavalry were trained. Each and every rider displayed their individual prowess, firing arrows from horseback and simultaneously maintaining their balance. They rode through artificial obstacle courses with ease and followed base maneuvers ordered by Sar''tara without flaw.

    Kalin noted everything from the back of his own mount, nodding his approval at every turn. Sar''tara also showed decent improvement on her sword skills while riding. She used a weapon not familiar to Xenaria''s soldiers. A curved shamshir used by desert mercenaries that the garrison''s armory only carried few of. Their purpose was to have soldiers gain experience in facing varying weapon types. Sar''tara had grown accustomed to its sleek design and used it rather gracefully compared to the straight blades of Xenaria.

    Impressed, Kalin called an end to the session and led the soldiers back to the fortress.

    "So? What did you think?" Faren asked, once back inside. Kalin coughed intentionally, eyes narrowing. The young soldier straightened his back and rid himself of his giddy expression. "What is your opinion, grace?" he said, correcting himself.

    "You will subsequently be demoted and Sar''tara will be promoted. Now, let me ask your opinion in turn. Do you think this unit is a match for the quick riders of Tarmia that you faced in the last battle?"

    "A match. Maybe. Their mounts are better than ours, but the Lady''s skills could give us an edge."

    Kalin nodded thoughtfully. "You are dismissed then." Faren bowed and left. Sar''tara was still adoring a horse while a stable boy patiently waited. Kalin observed the animal for a while. It was the same one she had been given a few months back. A proud stallion with rust colored fur and a black tail and mane. The muscle outlines in its leg were very clearly visible. A powerfully built animal worthy of carrying the Ivory Hussars. A beast with a strong sprint but not good enough mileage. It didn''t allow any other rider to mount it other than her. She seemed to have a natural affinity with animals.

    But it wasn''t worthy of carrying a hunter. Sar''tara was more suited to the quick runners of the desert. They were famed to be the fastest at covering great distances without tiring. Their thinner frames made them ill-suited for brutal wars but for a unit built to hunt¡­ Except desert breeders are known to charge exorbitant prices.

    Sar''tara finally handed the reins over to the stable boy. She walked over to him, smiling, fully aware of her masterful display of command. "I''m getting you a new horse," Kalin said. Here it comes. ''No, I like that one!''

    Sar''tara''s lips parted, creases of worry and panic marring her forehead. "No! I like that one!"

    Kalin once again suppressed a laugh behind twitching lips. "I''m going to get you something more suited to your unit. The entire unit in fact will have a change in mounts if the budget allows." She continued to pout. He turned around, afraid her silent protest would be enough to convince him. "You''ve also been promoted." Kalin walked away. The sound of her boots followed. It was well into the evening. Sar''tara normally ate her meals in the mess hall with others. Kalin expected her to make the appropriate turn but she continued following. "Aren''t you going to eat?" he asked without turning around.

    "I''ll eat with you," she said, humming, clearly pleased by the promotion.

    He shrugged. Now that he was relieved of paperwork, he had more free time on his hands. Time he could spend with her. He ordered a passing servant to have specific food items brought to his office. Dusk was fast approaching by the time he and Sar''tara had made it back to the highest floor of the castle.

    Kalin opened the door to his office. Nothing was out of the ordinary save for the flowering pot that''d been left on his table. Within it, a glowing flower was slowly blooming. A flower of deep blue with pale blue edges around the petals that glowed. A light akin to the moons shining on open water. It wasn''t bright enough to encompass the entire room as a high quality luminite stone would, but it was enough to brighten his desk as a half dozen candles might.

    "Do you like it?" Sar''tara asked with a shy smile. "I was hoping for a shade-wisp. I suppose it is fortunate that a shade-wisp grew on the first try."

    "First try?" he breathed, taken aback at the supposed magic before him.

    "Daughters of Ny''Danis carry the blood of the Forest Deity. Our blood gives rise to glowing everflowers. There are a few different ones. I let a drop of my own blood fall to the dirt. The flower will never wither. Nor does it need to be maintained. It will exist forever unless ripped from the dirt. It is a lamp. Just like you wanted."

    "Sar''tara¡­ you mean to tell me everflowers can only come from the blood of the Vashiri people?"

    She nodded. Kalin felt a stabbing pain in his chest. It drained him of all his strength. Wealthy from all over the world desired everflowers. Paid dearly for them. But never as dearly as those from whom the flowers were born. Kalin himself had admired them. He''d come across them at large merchant auctions many a time, thinking them to be products of a distant land created through some sort of a Divine Artifact. He hugged Sar''tara tight, clenching his eyes shut from crying.

    "I''m sorry," he whispered. Had he known, he would''ve put more effort into protecting the Papillion Forest all those years ago. Would''ve tried harder to establish a connection. It hurt enough to know he failed. Hurt enough to know Sar''tara''s tears and nightmares were the fault of none but his own. But to think her people were left isolated and at the mercy of humanity''s greed because of his neglect¡­

    Records of everflowers dated back centuries. That meant the forest had consistently come under attack before from groups small enough to have gone unnoticed. People had risked their worthless lives throughout the ages just to obtain a drop of Vashiri blood.

    "Sorry for what? Do you not like it?"

    "Sorry for everything," Kalin breathed, squeezing her harder. He felt her heartbeats against his own. She likely didn¡¯t understand his sorrow, but put her arms around him regardless. Kalin meant to comfort Sar''tara, but he was feeling relieved at her embrace instead. A drop of saltwater fell upon her back and slowly rolled down. "The flower is beautiful. I will treasure it forever. But¡­ do not ever mention that you were the one to create it. Flames forbid the wrong people hear of this."

    He felt her nod in reply. Kalin held her there for a long moment, using her as an excuse to hold his own emotions in. He''d been a failure as a High Lord. All of his ancestors had been failures. They''d remained oblivious to such injustice so close to home. And Kalin was the worst of them, letting the Vashiri peoples perish.

    Sar''tara sniffled. Kalin let her go as she quickly wiped the edges of her eyes. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

    "No. It''s just I haven¡¯t seen an everflower in a long while. I had no reason to. But¡­"

    Kalin kissed her, not wanting to let her painful memories plague her further. She clutched fistfuls of his shirt.

    A while later, a subtle knock came from the door. Kalin pulled away, his fingers sliding along her cheeks. She smiled at him and seated herself by his desk, no trace of her pain remaining. He opened the door and let a maid leave the requested food on his table.

    Sar''tara stared at the food with more longing eyes than he''d ever caught her looking at him. He took more pleasure in watching her shovel it all inside her mouth than satisfy his own hunger. All his life he''d been raised to be the perfect nobleman with transcending mannerisms. And here he was, watching Sar''tara take large bites out of her bread and cheese and sip hot stew from the bowl itself, completely ignoring the spoon within it. Kalin kept his eyes on her the entire time while sipping from his own bowl. A drop of liquid rolled down the bowl''s edge and fell on his trousers. He frowned. Sar''tara was practically inhaling her food, but doing it with utter perfection, spilling no drops. Though the area around her soft lips was soon glistening with the shine of oily gravy.

    She finished her meal many times faster than he did. Her eyes kept drifting to a loaf that lay wrapped in a thin sheet. Kalin smiled, taking his time eating, wondering just when she would break and finally ask the quest¡ª

    "What''s that?"

    He sighed. "That is cake. A simple pound cake. You can dig in if you''d like."

    "Cake¡­ Made of this sweet crystal called sugar?"

    "That would be a key ingredient."

    Eyes glowing, Sar''tara unravelled the cloth, revealing the golden loaf within. A perfectly clean knife lay at the plate''s side. She tore the loaf in half with her bare hands, her own piece slightly smaller.

    "You can take the larger piece," Kalin said, lifting his bowl high above and draining it of its last remaining contents.

    Sar''tara took a large bite. "Sho shweet and shoft," she said, talking while chewing. Something a noble lady would never dare to do. Kalin chose to use a fork to eat his own piece, not wanting to end up with sticky fingers afterwards. Most of his meals were eaten in silence and lost in thought. He enjoyed every second of his time with Sar''tara.

    And seconds were all that it felt like.

    Their moment of peace did not last. Heavy fists drummed against the door to the office room. Kalin''s mouth twisted. He crossed the length of the room slowly. By the urgent sounds of knocking, it was unlikely that he would be returning to Metsiphon any time soon. He opened the door to find a breathless Commander Rask with raised fists, a paper in his hand. "Speak," he commanded, for once letting the lines of frustration remain on his face rather than appear disaffected.

    "A village north of here burns. Northeast more. It lies close to the river. Empire''s red hand banners. Worse yet, spies report a gathering army. And boats to cross the river. Not a measly force of a few thousand either. They''re trying to start a full scale invasion away from the typical frontier by the sounds."

    Kalin snatched away the paper from his commander''s hands. His eyes skimmed through it multiple times. "Is it Idris?" he mumbled. "No. Reports state mere militia¡­"

    "Idris Khan is known to seek challenges," Rask said. "Something else is still bothering me though."

    "The Union inquisitors?" Kalin asked looking up. Rask nodded. "Their purpose is their own. They have no reason to defend our civilians. And yet," Kalin turned to look at Sar''tara. "They''ve been known to lie before. No Empire commander is fool enough to start an invasion elsewhere along our borders with Arcaeus Peak still standing. Yet the fact that they gather numbers remains."

    "Perhaps they cooperate with the Union?" Sar''tara said softly. Her fists were closed.

    "It¡¯s a possibility. Rask, mobilize the army. I want half of the garrison ready to march by dawn."

 Chapter 34: Plots

    <u>Chapter 34 - Plots</u>

    Sar''tara sat tall and proud on the back of her horse, riding next to Kalin and Rask, feeling the late winter winds brush along her skin. A thick cloak hung from her shoulders but her belly still remained bare. Twenty thousand men, some nervous and others eager, marched behind. She knew full well that she didn¡¯t belong at the front as a mere captain of five hundred. Kalin just allowed her to ride at his side.

    It was like living in one of Ny''Danis'' stories. Stories about armies moving at the behest of great nations and greater heroes. Sar''tara imagined the reactions of her sisters. Of what Stel''Na and Kiali might say or do. Of what Freya might think, seeing the crybaby she''d sung lullabies to sitting as a proud warrior.

    As a warrior about to take lives.

    Her shoulders slumped. She had been reveling in the thought of taking another life. Reveling in the same shameless actions that had stolen her home. War sounded so glamorous in stories. There was nothing glamorous about killing. War had claimed Freya''s life. Mina''s life. And many others.

    The realization finally struck her. For the past few months, she had thought nothing of her previous actions. An enemy was an enemy. And enemies had to be killed. That was all she''d known since escaping from the Union''s grasp. But each and every person she''d slain was a person as well. A person with perhaps families that cared for them just as she had seen in Ny''Danis'' final Trial. Even soldiers of the Union were perhaps against their actions but were forced to follow orders. Sar''tara once again found herself questioning the difference between herself and her enemies. Questioning her purpose as a soldier.

    Kalin once said that a fourth of the Thousand Sun City were military personnel, some of them unwillingly. That aside, what of the rest? Wouldn''t she become just as vile as the Union that''d slain her sisters if she attacked a city full of innocents for her vengeance?

    The sounds of marching boots echoed in her ears. Thousands behind her, all ready to kill, all ready to die. "Why would anyone willingly go live at the Sun City?" she asked.

    "False hope," Kalin replied. "You ask that question because you''ve seen their true face. Or at least the true face of their leaders. Most civilians know them from rumors as forces of justice. Regardless of the situation, the Astral Union has proven its true colors when they burnt your home for magical Artifacts. Even if their end goal truly is rooting out darkspawn, justifying a genocide for the sake of power is no different from an act of evil in my books." Kalin looked at the sky. "I know you want justice. But don''t ever hope for war, Sar''tara. It is amongst the vilest of acts people can commit."

    "But often a necessary act," Rask said.

    "Yes, often necessary. Sometimes war is waged to end wars. Sometimes, it is only to defend your loved ones and your home."

    Defending loved ones and her home. Defending family. Sar''tara glanced at Kalin. She knew her nightmares would continue so long as her family''s murderers roamed free. But she could not lose sight of herself while chasing after vengeance. She had a new home now. A soldier was a guardian of their nation. Her purpose was clear to her now. "Thank you a fourth time, Kalin." He didn''t reply. Sar''tara kept her eyes low but sat up straight again.

    Rask pulled out a spyglass and looked further in the distance. "I see the ruins," he said.

    Kalin grunted. "Sar''tara, take a fifth of your unit and do a round of the village. Return and¡­ On second thought, send Faren in your stead."

    "Just scouting right? I can do it," she stated.

    "It¡¯s a burnt village. Are you sure?"

    "Yes." She needed to get over her fears of fire. And with Kalin near, she had the confidence to face those fears.

    He nodded. Sar''tara rode back and called for a hundred of her horses trotting alongside the foot soldiers to follow after her. They headed forward, the Cinder River a short distance to their right. She took out her own spyglass that she''d been given, looking through it across the river which marked the border between Xenaria and Tarmia. She saw nothing but hilly plains with the occasional cluster of trees. Spyglasses were truly remarkable. They made distances seem shorter than they were. They also provided information on what lay ahead. She looked through it towards her destination. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked at the site. Ashen ruins of a village. She put the spyglass down.

    Breathe, Tara. She grit her teeth. She was now in a position of power. She was now a guardian of Xenaria and in a position to deliver retribution to those that had harmed her citizens. The village came into view. Pillars of wooden houses remained. Charred and hewn bodies lay scattered about, though not as dense as she expected. It had been a village of a few hundred at most. Sar''tara refused to close her eyes, taking in the grueling scene with every fibre of her being, for every time she closed her eyes, she couldn''t help but imagined flames and screams.

    The horses rode around the village, seeing nothing of note. Far in the distance, her already keen eyes caught something fluttering in the wind at the top of a shallow hill. A flag of sorts. Sar''tara squinted, trying to make out what it was. Unable to, she resorted to the spyglass again. It was a white banner with a red hand. The hand of Tarmia. Behind it, dozens of similar banners. Much more than she''d seen during the previous skirmish. The Empire had already crossed the river.

    Sar''tara split her contingent further and ordered them to survey the nearby hills and declines for potential hidden forces. She returned to the main army with a few dozen to report her findings.

    ***

    "What did you say your name was?"

    "Vulpecula, Lord Kazir. You may refer to me as Judge Vul, if you wish."

    "Judge¡­ One of those so called Constellations of the Union?" The man nodded. The sun upon his curved and polished breastplate seemed to come alive, reflecting the light of candle flames within the tent. Kazir could see the flickering flames dancing within the blacks of Vul''s eyes. And shining against his bald head. "Vulpecula as in fox. But¡­" Kazir''s hands moved in a blur. Within the span of a second, he drew both blades at his side, his hooked sword capturing Vul''s right hand and his scimitar stopping short of the bald man''s neck. "Foxes don''t roam the sewers looking for food and smelling of piss. I am an assassin. I am Wickar. I know the smell of a rat." Kazir looked the man up and down. "And the sight of one too."

    "Indeed. I wouldn''t dare take you for a fool," Vul said. He was feigning resolve despite his precarious situation.

    The one thing a warrior hated most was to be separated from their weapon. Kazir could sense his captive''s fear. With his right hand held hostage, Vul was no warrior. He was a lamb awaiting slaughter.

    Vul''s eyes narrowed. His voice thinned. "The same way you wouldn''t be fool enough to take my head. My legion has been given a time limit. If I do not return, word of the Empire''s treachery will reach The Lord Sun."

    "Or I could just off you right now and order your legion destroyed."

    "Oh? Your some twenty or thirty thousand conscripted farmers are capable of destroying two thousand of my well-armed and battle hardened warriors? Even if it was just a normal inquisition legion, you''d never kill everyone. This is the legion of a Constellation Judge. You¡­"

    Kazir stopped listening, rolling his eyes. Those afraid always talked for too long. Vul was a schemer. Not a warrior. He pressed his scimitar''s edge against Vul''s throat. The man shut up and then scowled, presumably realizing that his pressed lips had truly exposed his fear just then. Kazir smirked. "Answer me, rat. Why did you burn the village using our banners?"

    "You''d have done it all the same, no? You''ve crossed the Cinder River with the intent to wage war."

    Kazir tugged with his hooked sword, this time drawing blood from Vul''s wrist. "Do NOT answer my question with another. Why?"

    "Xenaria is corrupt at its core. It needs a reform. The nation of the once all powerful Flame Bearers. Though they¡¯ve been destroyed, most Xenarians still follow the Laws of the Eternal Flame. They still use a creation of darkspawn for their religion! Aid me, Kazir. I will help you kill Kalin Serene. The Union is not one to forget merit. Xenaria will be split between us and the Empire depending on who contributed to their demise the greatest. With Kalin gone, is there any other who could dare to match you?"

    Kazir could feel his blood boil. Vul knew. Knew that he''d suffered countless losses against the duke. He was trying to exploit the inferiority complex growing within Kazir''s heart. There was also the matter of trust. The Astral Union were far from trustworthy partners. As soon as Xenaria fell, they''d turn their eyes on Tarmia.

    But so long as Xenaria stood, the Union would remain allies. They''d do it to push their narrative as the force of justice. Xenaria would be labelled a land of darkspawn. And if this Lord Sun thought he could take the Empire with ease, he''d be vastly underestimating the likes of Idris Khan. Vastly underestimating myself. Join hands with the serpent at my feet to defeat the silver eagle flying above¡­ "Had I not been here, this burning village would have been pinned on me regardless because I am known to fight without honor. You were trying to ignite a war between us whilst striking Xenaria from the south while they''re distracted. Now that I am here, you''re seeking equal grounds on the condition that we join hands to kill the duke here and now."

    "No," Vul refuted. "I''d have never burned the village had I not already known you''d be arriving. Our target is Kalin. Leaving him alive would make invading Xenaria far too dangerous."

    Scalding bastard. Regardless of who it was, no one openly admitted to be spying on their neighbors. Kazir knew full well that his militia would never triumph over Kalin. He''d arrived with the intention of challenging the duke to a duel. He didn''t have any traps prepared this time. Kazir didn¡¯t know what madness had led to that decision. Perhaps a small part of his childhood clinging to a stray strand of honor within his heart ¡ªa romantic image of the ideal warrior. Ideal hero. Vul had likely guessed his intentions and was now offering a different way out. The Union were fools. They were underestimating the High Lords of Xenaria. But a chance to be rid of Kalin¡­

    Kazir lowered his scimitar. His hooked sword still remained in its exact position. "Speak."

    Vul smiled. A look of triumph. "A simple plan. Kalin won''t attack the Union. We will march past them. Launch a night strike. Your militia, untrained as they are, will prove disadvantageous. But we will strike Kalin''s camp from behind. Take the ensuing chaos to send your Wickar in. Or of course, go in yourself and¡ª" Vul dragged his left hand along his own throat, "claim your revenge."

    "Easy enough to follow. Kalin will suspect something. He''s avoided traps time and time again."

    "Oh, he won''t suspect a thing. I''ll pay him a visit myself and offer my aid to him."

    Kazir tugged with his hooked blade, the edge digging deeper into Vul''s wrist. "If I even catch a hint of you playing both the duke and I, I will make sure the entirety of the Wickar Temple turn their blades against the Thousand Sun City."

    Vul nodded, maintaining his smile of triumph. He was easy to read. He was no sly fox. Kazir removed his hooked blade and let the bald Judge walk free. Vul made a show of throwing his night sky cloak as if he were an aristocrat before leaving.

    Kazir ground his teeth. I may have lost my honor. But I haven''t lost my pride.

    ***

    Kalin looked over a map of the region as his soldiers began setting up a camp. According to Sar''tara''s report, the enemy numbered some twenty to thirty thousand. Relative equal numbers to his own soldiers. Only, there had to be another ploy. The Empire''s militia was no match for the Xenarian forces. The rolling hills and narrow passes to Kalin''s rear made for excellent hiding places for an ambush force, but his scouts reported no such force.

    "Your Grace!" Rask called, running fast despite the heavy defensive armor. "The inquisition legion that were sighted before. They''re marching past. The leader wants a word with you."

    Kalin raised an eyebrow. "Where''s Sar''tara?"

    "With her unit."

    "Keep her out of sight. Send this leader to see me."

    "Should we wait until the command tent has been erected?" the commander asked.

    "They don''t deserve formal treatment. Send him as is." Rask nodded and left. Kalin folded the maps and set them aside. The tent was nearly done being erected anyhow. He stared up at the clear sky, sighing aloud, dazed and irritated at the constant battles. He caught sight of Sar''tara tending to her horse as Faren and others erected tents. Being a captain, she was forced to sleep near her own unit. It was strange. The thought of being alone at night was unsettling. He''d grown accustomed to her warmth. To the feel of her lips and the sounds of her breaths.

    He met her eyes for a brief moment before someone got in the way and delivered a message to her. Kalin turned around to see a bald man wearing a breastplate with a sun walking towards him. He was surrounded by several Xenarians.

    "Lord Serene," the man said, bowing low. Kalin flinched at the sunlight reflecting off of his bald head. "Constellation Judge Vulpecula at your service. You may refer to me as Vul."

    "So you say. Your inquisition legion was camped here for a few months. Now, the village is burnt and an Empire army is sitting within our borders."

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    "We had reason to be here, my lord. There were traces of darkspawn here, hidden among ordinary villagers. We could not let such a fact go unnoticed."

    "What kind of traces?" Kalin asked, eyes narrowing. He didn''t believe a single word coming out of the man''s mouth.

    "Traces of Flame Bearers. There were certain hints to suggest the usage of Eternal Flames."

    "Get into specifics, Judge. I am a skeptic lest convinced. It comes with being a Serene. I seek truth." The laws written by the Flame Bearers served as a moral code for Xenarians. Kalin cared little for the Union''s claims. He would protect a Flame Bearer if they asked if only to spite the Union, but any survivors of the ancient royal bloodline lived in hiding.

    "My lord, it pains me that you would doubt the Astral Union. Regardless, a shed had burned down within the village. A simple tool shed. The villagers say that glowing embers remained for many days. My legion was merely passing by and the villagers requested us to investigate the matter."

    Kalin nodded, feigning interest. "I''m told your legion numbers around two thousand. I would hope that the village was not troubled for food."

    "No, of course not," Vul hurriedly said. "We had contracts with merchants crossing the border, Of course, we were still forced to ration quite a bit."

    Another nod. Kalin felt his temper rise. Amongst the detailed reports he received, the merchant''s guild had made no mention of forming a contract with a Union legion. And individual merchants couldn''t possibly hope to feed two thousand mouths for several months. "And this darkspawn culprit?"

    "A middle aged woman admitted to experimenting with evil Flames eventually a few days back."

    Eventually. The poor woman had probably admitted to it to save the villagers from starvation. Another group of Xenarians that suffered while Kalin was the duke. This time, he''d known of it. Yet his hands were tied. "So how did the village burn down?" he asked, fingers twitching. They wanted to draw his sword. Wanted to kill this despot standing before him.

    "I must first ask your lordship to please not be angered. Around that time, we caught wind of an Empire army crossing the Cinder River. The Astral Union has no intention to involve itself in the wars of other nations. With our task complete, we were set to withdraw. However, I received a message from Kazir of the Empire. Someone you''ve faced off against many times I''ve heard. He requested an audience. I agreed. Whilst meeting him, his men burned this village down. It pains me dearly, as I''d come to know some of these villagers on a personal level, having been here for so long."

    Oh, I''m sure you did.

    "I will admit," Vul continued, "however, it is unlikely that I would have aided the village people if I was aware of the attack. As I said, we cannot involve ourselves in the wars of others."

    Kalin inhaled. Then exhaled through his teeth. He took everything Vul said with a grain of salt. "And so why are you meeting with me now?"

    "Kazir offered me a deal. He asked for help in taking you down. Once the two armies are engaged, my legion is to strike the Xenarians from behind. I was offered a chest full of gold. He thought to buy a force of justice through greed. I accepted the offer of course, though not in truth. I will do no such thing as aiding those that slaughtered innocent people. I came instead to offer my aid to you free of charge, my lord. Those killing innocents are hardly any different from darkspawn as far as I''m concerned."

    So Kazir was trying to set a trap. Or Vul was lying. It was better to assume the worst. Better to just be rid of the Union. "Your offer is appreciated, Judge. But it is not needed. I will fell Kazir once and for all. I implore you to leave with your legion. Any force not our own will be treated as hostile. I take no risks."

    "Understandable. Farewell, Lord Serene. May the heavens watch over you and your men." The man bowed once more, causing Kalin to flinch again at the sunlight.

    ***

    Sar''tara hid behind her horse, watching Kalin converse with a man of the Union. She could sense the duke''s discomfort from the movements of his arms and back. It was clear the Union soldier was a man of authority. She wanted to drive an arrowhead straight into the center of the sun image on his breastplate. Not only was he perhaps partially responsible for the death of her sisters, but he was also a threat to her current home and family. A hand reached for the quiver tied to her horse. Someone caught her wrist just as she touched the soft fletching of an arrow.

    "My lady, I would advise against that," Faren said.

    Sar''tara tugged against the firm grip, trying to free her hand and grab an arrow regardless. "I know," she answered, her words not matching her actions. She watched as the bald man bowed before Kalin and walked off without consequence. Only then did Faren let her wrist go. She stomped a foot, scowling. "Can''t we just go hunt down their legion?"

    "In an ideal world, if we had some way to envelop them and stop every single man from escaping, then perhaps? Of course, this isn''t an ideal world. If it were, your home would not be ashes."

    His words cut through her like the blades of winter winds. But he was right. There would eventually come a time for her revenge. She needed to exercise patience and wisdom as she''d learned from the Guardian Trials.

    Sar''tara scratched her horse''s neck. Life had been much simpler then. When she only had a single goal. When she hadn''t known of her Mother''s treachery. "Are our tents set?" she asked. Faren nodded. She rubbed her bare arms. She had to sleep alone. It wouldn''t be cold. There would be many blankets. But Sar''tara knew she''d feel cold. Kalin''s arms wouldn''t be around her. His chest wouldn''t be there to bury her head in.

    "Should I have your supper prepared, my lady?"

    "Why do you still call me that instead of captain?"

    Faren thought for a second. "Because one title precedes the other? It¡¯s the same when we address the duke as ''your grace'' rather than ''lord commander''. He is the commander of all of House Serene''s soldiers, but he is the duke first and foremost."

    Such complicated customs. Sar''tara waved her hand. "You can leave something in my tent. I''ll be taking a walk." Faren nodded, standing between her and her arrows. He was making sure she didn''t take a full quiver with her. She still had a curved sword at her side, though far from mastering its use.

    Sar''tara''s eyes followed Kalin. She desired to ask about what it was the Union wanted. But he seemed busy enough as is. It was better if she didn''t distract him on the eve of battle. She walked to the edge of camp, away from everyone else. Out in the open plains, the winds had a much easier time reaching her. She shrouded her entire body with the rough heavy cloak around her shoulders. It was nearly as heavy as the fur of bears, but not nearly as warm. Entirely inefficient. Perhaps she would be fortunate to find a bear when Kalin took her to visit other forests.

    Sar''tara''s shadow extended longer and longer as the sun began to sink. She paused, spotting a strange figure gliding towards the war camp. Its movements were strange, like that of a small animal. The huntress squinted. The figure paused every once in a while, shrinking to the size of a wolf. When it moved, its size grew again. As it approached closer to the encampment, she saw it for what it truly was. A man trying to slither his way in. An effective circle of guards had yet to be formed to spot him. Even within the open plains, the man was weaving his way forward with extreme precision so as not to be seen. Any passing eyes would dismiss him as an animal. Sar''tara saw the fluttering of his cloak, its color the same as sunlight upon the yellow winter grass. An assassin.

    She turned her head away, pretending to have not noticed. She walked further away from the camp until the slippery figure was behind her. Only then did Sar''tara turn around and stalk her prey, daggers already in her hand. For a moment she returned to her past life. Knees bent low, measured and silent steps forward, eyes keeping track of her target at all times¡­

    He was gone.

    Sar''tara whipped her head around. Nothing. She thought to run straight into the camp and scream assassin. No. That would force her prey to flee and make her seem a fool. She crouched lower, trying to blend in with the yellowed grass that reach up past her shins. She caught sight of her prey again. The assassin was on his knees or lower, completely still. He was spying into the encampment. Perhaps just an experienced Empire scout then?

    She continued forward until she was half a dozen feet from her target. No one was there. The dying grass colored cloak was hanging from the pommel of a hooked sword stabbed into the ground. She''d been baited. Without turning, she lunged forward and rolled, dropping the daggers and drawing her shamshir instead. She turned then to face her enemy, getting into an appropriate stance. All she caught sight of was a blur moving beside her. And then there was a blade edge at the side of her throat.

    "Not bad," the assassin said. His accent was thicker than her own. "Your steps are quiet. For the most part anyway. And you saw the trap for what it was and lunged forward to make distance instead of turning as most would. Hmm. I''ll give it seven out of ten."

    The blade edge fell away from her throat. Sar''tara turned to find a tan skinned man with hair so long that it was wrapped around his neck. His torso was bare, a scorpion tattoo on his abdomen. One of the Wickar. The man turned his back on her and retrieved his cloak and hooked blade. Instinct screamed at Sar''tara to run. Unfathomable bloodlust oozed from him. And yet, she was still alive. He hadn''t killed her. Why? Because I''m inferior? She didn''t have time to answer questions. Such a dangerous man was a few dozen feet from the Xenarian camp. Sar''tara stepped in to attack as the Tarmian bent down to retrieve his cloak. Her hand came down. The thin blade of the shamshir seemed to pass right through him.

    No.

    He was spinning at the exact moment the sharp edge was meant to make contact with his skin. The next thing she saw was the tip of a boot rounding towards her. White filled her vision as she felt herself collapse to the ground.

    "You must be the huntress from the burned forest," the man said. He clicked his tongue. "Had you been an ordinary soldier, you''d be deader than the grass of these plains right now. But I fear the duke won''t take too kindly if someone close dies." A heavy boot pinned Sar''tara to the ground. Her vision cleared to stare at a scimitar tip. The man used it to brush aside loose strands of her hair that didn''t get tied along with her single braid. "I''ll give you credit. At least you don''t pretend to be a panther. You are one. Though, your fangs are small. You''ve certainly got a pretty face. You''d make a useful slave. A little younger and the Wickar Temple may have accepted one such as you without question."

    Sar''tara''s heart drummed. Her breaths came quick. Trembling hands tried feeling around for her fallen weapon. The man noticed her feeble attempts. He poked her left hand with the scimitar. The weapon bit into her flesh between her thumb and index finger. He then twisted the blade. Sar''tara clenched her teeth shut but a voice of pain still escaped her throat. Tears formed on the edges of her eyes.

    "That''s for ruining my plans in the last skirmish. You will be useless for this battle now, little kitten. That left hand can no longer hold a bow. Unless you have unimaginable pain tolerance. Somehow, I doubt that."

    Sar''tara glared through her blurry vision. She couldn''t make out the features of his face. All she saw was a triumphant grin.

    "Get up. I have no intention of killing you. I need a word with Kalin."

    The boot was lifted off of her. Sar''tara pulled herself up, dusting away the dirt on her belly. She clutched the wound on her hand to staunch the bleeding. "Why should I trust an assassin?"

    "You shouldn''t." The man picked up her shamshir and daggers and held them out. "Point your blade at my back and walk me into camp. I''ll keep my hands up. Feel free to remove my head from my shoulders any time you wish."

    Sar''tara had half a mind to lop that cocky head off right then and there. But she didn''t. She couldn''t. He was that much better than her. It''s alright, she convinced herself. Kalin would be guarded well at the sight of an assassin. It took a bit to relax her breathing. "Walk then."

    ***

    "Your Grace!" a guardsman cried as he rushed into the tent. "The Huntress! I mean, Lady Sar''tara! She''s marching into camp with General Kazir. She has him at a blade''s edge."

    Kalin frowned, looking up from the regional maps. He eyed the guard up and down, making sure the man wasn''t an assassin himself. Kazir was too slippery to just get caught. Kalin drew his sword and stepped out of the tent along with his guard. Many armed soldiers stood between him and the Tarmian leader. He was walking with his arms up as Sar''tara held her sword at his nape. Long hair wrapped around his neck, tattoo on his abdomen, and bare torso save for a brownish yellow cloak. It really was Kazir.

    "It''s an honor, Kalin. Ah, whenever was it last that we met?"

    He''d said ''Kalin'' without any sort of honorific. He was treating himself as an equal. Kalin smirked. Such confidence when surrounded was something to be admired. The dozens of angry soldiers standing before him were like mere loafs of soft bread waiting to be cut. Kalin had seen Kazir dance before. And he was being bold enough to openly emit his bloodlust. His entire expression was covered with a desire to kill. "Last time¡­ Five years ago when you tried assassinating my father, Lord Sialin."

    "And he died not a month after from an ailment. Imagine my disappointment at not having claimed such a trophy myself! It was as if the sun had sunk completely from my life."

    "Says the man who spends most of his time slithering in shadows. I''d think you a Vampire if I didn¡¯t know any better. Why are you here, Kazir?"

    "To talk," the man replied. A wicked grin spread on his face. "Alone. If you have any balls that is."

    "He does," Sar''tara said, confirming what every present soldier knew as a near truth rumor. Kalin blinked, wondering if he''d heard that correctly. Everyone''s reactions confirmed that he had. Kazir broke out in maniacal laughter. Every soldier lowered their guard and shuffled their feet, barely keeping from laughing themselves. Any tension in the air had disappeared. Kazir''s bloodlust disappeared. Sar''tara cocked her head. "I don''t follow. Is it a plains dweller custom to make challenges based on body parts? The soldiers seem to do it often."

    Kalin didn¡¯t know how to respond. He''d explained the concept of mating to her. She''d just accepted it as something to learn rather than feel any shame.

    "You win, Kalin," Kazir said. He let his cloak fall and disarmed himself. "Now can we talk alone?"

    Kalin nodded with a sigh. The soldiers regained their composure and remained vigilant. Sar''tara led the enemy general into the command tent and Kalin followed. Once inside, Kazir sat down cross legged on the ground, making himself comfortable. Kalin seated himself on the chair and waited for Sar''tara to leave. She stood, her curved sword still pointing at the enemy.

    "I''m not leaving," she declared.

    He shrugged and then turned his eyes to Kazir. "Speak.

    "Idris really had it guessed all along," Kazir muttered. He waited for a reaction. Kalin gave none. "At least feign interest, Silver Eagle. Fine. The sun is setting. I''ll keep this brief. Did some rat named Vul-piss-pants come here?"

    Kalin nodded. "Something about you burning the village and asking for his help."

    "I may have lost my honor, Your Grace, but I will not enlist the aid of another to kill you."

    "Ironic that you sit here now as my captive."

    "Spare me the tongue. That man is as a pig rolling around in his own excrement. He thinks himself smarter than the rest. They want you dead. Something about Xenaria being the land of the corrupt Flame Bearers. Something, something, heretics must burn. I help them kill you. They invade Xenaria. They burned this village using my name, then sought out my aid because you handed my rear to me a dozen times already."

    "And?"

    "And I hate rats," Kazir said. "Imagine boys of ten. Stuck in a dark room with no exit. A room full of rats for three days. No food. No drink. Just rats. That is the Wickar initiation trial."

    "So I should pity you?" Kalin asked.

    "No. You should help me. I''m to attack you at night. They attack you from behind. I''ll have my militia envelop them and tell the vanguard to stand down. Please do kill them for me. Bring me Vulpiss''s head."

    "And then¡­?"

    "And then I leave. My militia cannot beat your soldiers. Of course, in an ideal world, the Astral Union devastates your forces to a point that I can challenge you. Alas. There''s little to no chance of that happening."

    Kalin nodded thoughtfully. It was brazen of Kazir to mention that last bit. But he came here risking his own neck. A chance to destroy a Union legion without consequence. A chance to kill them to the last man so that no report can be taken to the Lord Sun. Though, one thing still didn''t add up. For what purpose had Kazir crossed the river if he had no traps set up this time. "Do you hate the Union, Kazir?"

    "As much as priests hate whores."

    "¡­So you love them¡­?"

    "Flames burn you. You get the point."

    "Help me raze the Thousand Sun City," Kalin said. He glanced towards Sar''tara. Her eyes were alight with flame and her sword hand lowered ever so slightly.

    Kazir''s eyes narrowed. He stroked his smooth chin. "Who gets to keep the city?"

    It was Kalin''s turn to grin. "We''ll fight over its remains," he shrugged.

    The Tarmian bellowed. "You''d trust me to watch your back until then?"

    "I don''t even trust you to watch it within the span of tonight''s battle."

    Another laugh. "As you shouldn''t. I''ll consider the offer," Kazir finished as he rose to his feet. Sar''tara''s hand snapped back up and she rounded to his side. "A question, Your Grace. If at any point I had ever asked you for a duel, would you have accepted?"

    Kalin thought for a moment. Did he cross the river to do just that? "Perhaps. If you could guarantee that it would be a fair one on one without any tricks."

    "Ha! Even if I did guarantee it, you''d never believe me."

    "Quite right," Kalin agreed. Kazir gave an extravagant bow and saw himself out of the tent. Sar''tara meant to follow but Kalin grabbed her arm and shook his head. "Take your unit and ride away from the battlefield. I doubt the Union has had time to form a war camp. Regardless, head out during night when the battle begins. They should still have a pseudo command camp set up. Destroy it and then return." The Huntress nodded. She gave a passionate salute before turning to leave. Only then did Kalin see blood on her left hand. "Wait! What happened?" he said, his eyebrows creasing together.

    "That man, Kazir, he stabbed me. Then allowed himself to be captured. It won''t be a hindrance. The blood has stopped for the most part."

    "That¡­ But it''s spilled. Everflowers will grow."

    "It''s alright. The blood leaves no trace. No one would know where the glowing flowers have come from," Sar''tara said with a thin smile. "I''ll go see the physics. Please do not worry."

 Chapter 35: Those with Honor, and those Without (New artwork inside!)

    <u>Chapter 35 - Those with Honor and those Without</u>

    Sar''tara climbed on to her horse, clenching her teeth as she did so. The pain in her left hand had dulled thanks to Meredith and the other physics. But she still felt sharp pangs run along her arm. She touched the bandages around them. A faint wet spot with dark liquid shown through, glimmering under the light of the moons. She gently rubbed her hand. Beside her, Faren tensed, shuffling uncomfortably on the back of his horse. Her personal unit had ridden a fair distance away from the Xenarian war camp. They awaited the battles beginning to slip away amidst the chaos.

    "I don''t like this," Faren said. "I''ve heard enough stories from veterans to know the cunning of Kazir."

    "It''ll be alright. Trust in Kalin," Sar''tara replied, not believing her own words. A sick feeling formed in her stomach. A hopeless despair ¡ªthe kind she had felt during the night of the burning¡ª crawled beneath her skin. She had faith in Kalin. Just as she once had faith in the strength of her Mother''s Guardians. But the Forest Deity had been felled by the Union. Every Guardian had perished. And Kalin was just a man. A man that they were plotting to kill.

    Sar''tara wanted to be at his side. Losing him would be like losing any attachments she had remaining to this world. Though he had entrusted her with an important task, being away from the main battle made Sar''tara feel as if she were running away. Just as she had that night.

    The Xenarians were making it seem as if their camp was unaware of the planned night attack. No organizing lines were formed. Camp fires were still alight and could be seen from a distance. In truth, every soldier stood prepared. The Wolf of Metsiphon had been stationed at the camp''s rear, waiting for the expected assault from the Astral Union. Kalin had positioned himself to receive the Tarmian night raid.

    Sar''tara saw the movements before she heard them. It was like watching the shadow of an arm growing longer and creeping ever closer. The Empire''s forces were swiftly moving towards the Xenarian camp. They were spotted before they''d gone half way. The outer guards shouted as they were expected to. Armed soldiers poured out and formed ranks beyond the tents. A signal flare went out from the Tarmian side. It was followed by the thunderous applause of running feet. Soon after, a returning flare came from far beyond the Xenarian flank. The Union''s reply. More thunder and shouts followed, this time, from the opposite end.

    That was the signal for Sar''tara. As the Union''s core force was occupied, her task was to decimate their command tent. "Move out!" she ordered. Amidst the sounds of chaos, her unit''s movements went unnoticed. Sar''tara could see the breaths of her horse as well as her own. Even with evernight nearing its end, nights still carried harsh temperatures. She gripped the reins of her horse tight with her right hand, giving the left some rest. Sounds of pained screams and clashing metal pierced the open air behind her. They became more and more distant the further she got.

    Sar''tara glanced back repeatedly. She wanted to make sure the plans were progressing smoothly. Her chest felt tighter than before, as if it had swollen with her growing fear. Lingering fatigue settled into her joints. A Guardian feels no fear, she assured herself. She squeezed her left hand around the reins and forced herself to feel pain to awaken her fighting prowess.

    The Union encampment came into view. As Kalin had predicted, it was small. A few tents only. White banners with the image of a sun depicted upon them fluttered proudly with a passing breeze. Moonlight magnified the lustre of their yellow silk borders. The same depiction of the sun had been carved into the breastplates of the Union''s soldiers.

    Time slowed. Sar''tara could not avert her gaze from the banners. They called to her like a moth to a flame. She saw flames within them. Saw flames all around them. Heard her own screams from the burning night echo through her mind. They were followed by shouts crying out for her death.

    Death. Vengeance. Fire.

    Sar''tara dug her heels into her horse''s side and urged it to ride harder. Patience had deserted her. Her emotions were caught in a storm. She wanted to see those sun banners lit aflame. Needed to see it. She wanted to know that all traces of it had been destroyed. Her hands left the reins. They drew her bow and nocked. Blood soaked the bandages of her hand stained the wood of her bow. Her wound had reopened. She didn¡¯t care.

    Union soldiers noticed them coming and began shouting. Their commander came out of his tent, wearing sleeping robes. Silver light bounced off of his hairless head. Sar''tara''s fingers left her bowstring. An arrow through a throat. An armored man beside the commander fell. She nocked another.

    Twang!

    Another man fell. Her lips parted. The Vashiri war cry pierced the night sky.

    "Aim for their mounts!" Faren cried behind her. "Aim for their mounts! Don''t let a single one escape!"

    A volley of arrows were launched from behind. They rained down on the small camp, killing all but a few dozen that had managed to put up shields. The bald commander had survived. He along with two others mounted the last remaining horses. The rest scattered in different directions.

    Sar''tara''s horse entered the now decimated camp. She put away her bow and dug in with her heel, urging the horse to ride harder. Left hand on the reins, her right reached down at her waist and drew her curved sword. She reached her enemies before their own horses could pick up speed. Her sword hand flashed. The sword missed her target by a few inches. The man drew his own sword and turned his head. Sar''tara knew her skills to be weak ¡ªespecially on horseback. She slashed at her enemy''s mount, the tip of her shamshir digging into a thick leg. The horse whinnied loud and then fell forward. Its rider was sent crashing to the ground in a horrible fashion, armor denting under the weight and bones breaking with sharp cracks.

    Sar''tara turned her attention to the second armored guard. An arrow was lodged in the leg of his horse. Her own caught up with ease. The rider was in a state of panic and barely noticed her riding beside him. His mouth opened to cry out. Any sound they might''ve made was drowned by her own screams. Her sword slashed his throat.

    The last remaining man was the bald commander. His robes fluttered around him as if a spectre were surrounding his body. He was bare beneath. He''d been sleeping as if his victory was assured. Sleeping while his men did the dirty work. Sar''tara screamed harder, her voice waning under the constant strain. She spurred her horse on faster. It obeyed, speeding up for a split second only. She used that opportunity to try and behead her foe. She couldn''t reach. Her horse was slowing. She lunged forward out of desperation. Emotions caught in a storm, Sar''tara had forgotten the existence of her bow. But her lunge paid off. Her sword struck the bald man''s thigh. He screamed and fell off of his horse. At the same time, Sar''tara''s aching left hand slipped away from the reins. The leather had become slick with her blood. She grasped at it as she tried steadying her balance upon the horse but failed. She too fell from her mount.

    She mentally braced herself for the impact as her world tilted and her shoulder connected with the ground. Dead grass softened her fall as she rolled a dozen feet. She groaned as she pushed herself to her knees. Everything around her spun. Sar''tara tried steadying herself. Her final foe was limping towards her, the curved shamshir in his hands instead of hers. She grabbed the daggers at her waist.

    "You! You traitors. Who are you? Xenarian? Tarmian? Answer me!" the bald man cried. He raised his sword arm to attack.

    Sar''tara saw the man''s face twist in pain. His shoulder was dislocated. He couldn''t attack effectively. She screamed and lunged before the sword fell. Her daggers were thrust into his sides. Everything around Sar''tara stilled at that moment. She felt the life of every living blade of grass amongst the dead ones. She felt them tear out of the ground and pierce her foe as if they were needles. "I¡­ I am a daughter of the forest," she breathed.

    ***

    "Heavy infantry to the front. Shields up!" The Wolf cried. The orders were obeyed seamlessly. The Xenarian army was already prepared. Rask drew his longsword. A subtle smirk marked his face. He stared upon the open plains as foot soldiers of the Astral Union charged forth, their path lit alight with torch flame. The sounds of their feet were akin to boulders rolling down a rocky hill. "Archers draw!" The rumbling grew louder. Roars of confidence accompanied. "Fire!"

    Amongst the thunder, hundreds of arrows were loosed into the night sky, the sound of bowstrings akin to a flock of birds beating their wings. Sharp terror rained down upon the soldiers of the Astral Union. Boastful roars turned to whimpers of pain. Thunder became as mellow waves crashing against a rocky shore. Torches fell. Their flames disappeared, their lives snuffed out. Those that survived bore expressions of terror. A terror of realization. They weren''t sinking their teeth into an exposed flank as they had expected. Rather, they were colliding into a well prepared vanguard, being skewered themselves.

    The survivors of the first wave of arrows ran to their hapless deaths. They couldn''t turn back against the stampede of their own army. Thus, they fell victim to Xenarian spears. Rask smiled. "Serves you blind fools right," he muttered. "Admire the sun too long and you lose your sight. Second volley!"

    More arrows flew. The dense concentration of enemies thinned. "Vanguard march!" Rask called. The first line of spearmen began marching forward, maintaining their formations still. They thrust with their spears, impaling all before their path. "All lines move forward. Archers fire every dozen steps!" The Xenarian army obeyed, moving in perfect harmony as if it were a single entity.

    Rask''s eyes glazed over the battlefield. A silent shadow creeped its way past the two armies from both sides. They carried no torches. Made no sounds. The Astral Union, sensing that they''d stepped into a hopeless battle, called for retreat. Trumpets were blown. Their army turned back. Turned back to face the shadow wall that had enveloped them. The Tarmian army. Jengard Rask crossed his arms. Kazir had actually kept his word. But for how long¡­? "All units, maintain order! Kill all from the Thousand Sun City. Do not engage with Tarmians unless engaged upon.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    The battle against the Astral Union was all but won. However, a single spark was all it would take to ignite a vicious melee with the Empire.

    ***

    Kalin drew his sword. He stood behind his first few lines, waiting to receive the Tarmian army. They''d feigned a charge but had slowed significantly. Their lines split in two and began surrounding the Xenarian camp without clashing with them. Kazir was clearly waiting for the clash at the rear to begin. Kalin glanced back. He saw the fires of torches carried by the Union''s forces as they approached with as much of a ruckus as possible. They made it very clear that they were there. An attempt to demoralize the entirety of the Xenarian army. Their ruckus soon ended as their numbers were culled.

    The Tarmian army split further. A third line of soldiers appeared from between the other two. This group was better equipped than the rest of the militia. Tarmia''s few hundred veterans. It was all the Empire could spare with their real army occupied to the far east. At their head, their bare chest commander walked forth, back straight and head held high. The outlines of his muscles were accentuated by the clear night sky.

    The Xenarian army tensed. They shuffled about, preparing for the worst. Shields and spears were raised without the command being sent. Kalin saw the hints of a smile on Kazir''s face. His soldiers lined up a mere few dozen feet from the Xenarians. They stood still, just as he did himself. Kalin met his eyes and stared long and hard, trying to glean what lay beneath that calm fa?ade.

    Time passed. The only sounds were of the battle at the rear. They set expectations. Heightened caution. Increased tension. Hearts drummed in anticipation. Even more time passed. And then the sounds at the rear began to fade. Worrying expectations eased. Tension lifted from the atmosphere. The battle was coming to an end.

    Even then, Kalin maintained a tight grip around the hilt of his sword, eyes fixed on the enemy general.

    ***

    The assassin returned Kalin''s curious stare. While both Xenaria and the Empire''s soldiers relaxed, the duke alone remained vigilant. Kazir wondered how long it would take before carrion eaters swarmed the sky, waiting to take advantage of a favorable situation that just happened to pass them by. Just like all the people surrounding targets of his assassinations. How long before the iron cooled and a rotting stench filled the air?

    The field quieted. The skirmish at the rear had ended. A cold winter breeze whistled as it brushed past the soldiers standing still just as statues. Accompanying were the distant howls of a wolf. A Silver Tail wolf most likely. The scent of blood had already carried so far. Kazir finally broke eye contact with the duke and glanced up at the sky. Whether the moons were smiling or weeping, he could not tell. Regardless, they outshone every star around.

    Noise returned to the battlefield. The Tarmian army began marching back, undoing their envelopment just as they had been ordered. Militiamen were following instructions surprisingly well. Once the lines had pulled back beyond the Xenarian camp, Kazir finally stepped forward. "To think I would ally myself with you. Perhaps tomorrow, the sun will rise from the west."

    Kalin stepped forward as well, away from his soldiers. The two commanders met in the middle. The duke still had blade in hand. He held out his left for a handshake. "Do we go back to our petty squabbles after the Thousand Sun City is felled?"

    "Squabbles? I''d like to think they were times spent bonding with each other," Kazir said, shrugging sarcastically. "To a new future then? Regardless how temporary this relationship lasts of course."

    "To a new future," the duke agreed.

    Kalin very obviously didn¡¯t believe his own words. His eyes were still narrowed. A true bastion indeed. Kazir gazed longingly at the silver eagle upon his nemesis'' breastplate. How he''d desired to see the silver stained red. Kalin turned around and began walking away. He turned around.

    The ever so cautious man was showing his back to an assassin. A test of trust. A smile spread upon Kazir''s lips. He took a step. Dead honor, but pride breathes yet. His hands disappeared, their movements a blur. He drew his scimitar. The sound of him drawing iron rang clear. The sounds of his blade being stopped mid-swing rang even clearer. "Flames. You knew."

    "Perhaps your tricks work on unsuspecting fools," Kalin said, "but any soldier here could easily recognize such bloodlust, Kazir. You''ve just been waiting to sink your fangs in my throat."

    Soldiers from both sides tensed once again. They each tightened their lines and prepared to charge. "No one moves!" Kazir ordered. He drew his hooked sword. "This battle is between the two of us." After all, what is pride but a hollow shell without honor to fill it.

    "Time spent bonding you said. While our men threw their lives away. We would never have seen eye to eye. I accept your challenge!" Kalin lunged in, sword swinging.

    Never, Kalin? Somehow I doubt that. Kazir raised his left to trap the sword in his hooked blade. Kalin''s blade stopped short of completing its attack and instead changed directions. A blademaster indeed. Kazir lashed out with his scimitar, forcing his foe to parry. He then attempted to catch a limb with his hook but Kalin was far too nimble. The hooked sword glanced off of the breast plate, scratching the majestic wings of the silver eagle. Their exchanges continued for a time.

    For the first time in a long while, Kazir felt a thrill within him. A dead fire had been rekindled. A distant childish dream, reborn. A feeling he had last felt when killing his comrades during the final Wickar trials. Is this what stirs you Idris? Is this why you slay men with such glee? But in the end, it was a brief thrill. Kalin was good. Really good. Better even. But the Wickar were not just trained to be good, but to adapt. Adapt to any and all situations. Any and all battles. Every fighter worth his salt followed a rhythm. To the best of the best, a fight was a waltz. This particular fight, a waltz under moonlight. Rhythms could be read. Each passing second made Kalin''s next actions more and more apparent. Kazir''s blades went deeper. Bit harder. Struck stronger. Slowly but surely, each feather of the silver eagle was being plucked. Along with them, blade edges tore chainmail, and marked skin. Kazir himself had yet to suffer any wounds.

    And yet, something felt odd. Despite the dulling thrill, his heart drummed yet. Drummed heavily in anticipation for something. For a hidden climax that hadn''t yet arrived. One that would never arrive on time. Its anticipation would leave him disappointed as at long last, Kalin''s sword got stuck inside of the hook. Kazir pulled down and twisted. The duke held on to his sword with a powerful grip, but was pulled off balance. The scimitar then came down upon Kalin''s exposed neck.

    A whistling sound pierced through the air. The scimitar veered off course. A ringing impact echoed as an arrow shaft dropped to the ground. Kazir then realized what the hidden climax was. His heart had been matching the sounds of an approaching horse. His honed instincts were reacting to a threat outside his vision range. A blood curdling cry sent chills down his spine. The voice of the female huntress. Kazir kicked Kalin in the gut and sent the man reeling. He then backed away and turned to the charging horse. Its rider had now drawn a curved sword. Kazir stepped to the side, avoiding being trampled. Sar''tara swung down and he ducked, raising his hooked sword to catch her attack. He then tugged, pulling her off of her mount.

    Kazir meant to kill her but Kalin had recovered. "Tch." Their dance renewed. The assassin was still the superior fighter. But that changed. Sar''tara hadn''t suffered any damage from the fall. She came at him from the side. He retreated, opening distance between his opponents. "This isn''t the honorable duel I had in mind, Kalin."

    "Silence, liar," the huntress cried. She came in again.

    He swatted her blade aside, her sword skills pitiful. Kalin attacked at the same time, a flash of worry crossing his face. "So honor deserts even a man like you when desperation strikes," Kazir said. His taunts went unanswered. Sar''tara continued her attacks, and Kalin followed. Kazir had been forced on the back foot all while soldiers of both sides watched. To call for aid or stand alone, proud? The question repeated itself over and over again until at last Kazir came to a decision. Teeth clenched, he stepped in.

    He stopped parrying and went on the offensive. The Windsinger danced, dodging mortal blows and suffering scratches in their stead.

    Adapt!

    Each passing second was in his favor.

    Adapt!

    The winds of fate belonged to him.

    Adapt!

    His attacks became more vicious. More weight was put on them. Delicateness was sacrificed for strength. A fitting tactic as all three fighters were tiring. Even the three women in the sky obeyed him. Their silver light bounced from his blades and sent flashes into his enemies'' eyes. Kazir wielded moonlight itself as he continued to adapt. But for all his finesse, the one thing he couldn''t adapt to was Sar''tara. She was weak. Ungraceful. Pitiful. Her unrefined movements lacked a rhythm. Without a rhythm, she couldn''t be read. Against her alone, he would win even blindfolded. But with Kalin at her side, shoring her every weaknesses, defending her from every certain fatality, that wasn''t possible.

    Kazir managed to catch Sar''tara''s shamshir in his hooked sword. He tugged, wrenching the weapon away from her. Kalin was there no sooner, striking at once to save her. Kazir blocked with his scimitar, but his arm, heavy from fatigue, was blown back. He retreated to open distance again, but even his feet refused to obey him in time. Kalin roared and swung his sword in a wide arc. Kazir barely avoided a fatal blow. But his world went dark. Searing pain spread out in a thin line along the top half of his face. His eyes had been taken from him. Defeated, he dropped his weapons and fell to his knees.

    "So this is what that final sinew of honor earns me. Blindness¡­ ha. Ha ha ha¡­ ha." But of course. Honor bade his enemy to protect the woman he loved. The blame of this loss rested on Kazir''s own lies as much as it did on Kalin''s unwillingness to retreat once the fight had become unfair.

    "You seem awfully calm for a man with no eyes," Kalin said, breathing hard.

    Kazir wasn''t sure if he detected a touch of regret in his tone. "I still see yet," he lied. Well, a half lie. "We Wickar train all of our senses to the extreme. Of course, I will never again see the colors of this world. I can only ever imagine them. Kill me. Be done with this, friend." He could at least die while his pride and honor remained intact.

    "And risk your men trying to avenge you in a fit of rage? They''re on the verge of breaking. I wager they''ll charge the moment your head rolls." Kalin hissed as if breathing out through his teeth. "No, Kazir. I''ll not suffer more dead fathers or sons or husbands from my ranks at your soiled hands. Not even in your death. Let the bloodshed end here. Stand up, friend. Order your rabble militia home. Never again dare to set foot on Xenarian lands. I bid you take your blindness and keep it as a reminder."

    "You asked once if you should pity me, and I said no. Yet here you are disobeying, Kalin! Do not humiliate me further! If I don''t die here, I''ll make sure you regret this decision."

    "Then I''ll kill you when next you try again."

    Hubris. From Kalin. Kazir stood up and turned away. The duke didn''t know. He didn¡¯t know what true perseverance could be. What real resilience could look like. He didn¡¯t know the extent of a Wickar''s willpower. He thought blindness crippling.

    In their brief bout, Kazir had learned more about his opponents than spies had ever learned in years. Yet Kalin did not do the same. Ironically, he was blinded. Blinded by the pretty flower at his side that he was so desperate to protect. My Wick was spent, its length ashes. But you''ve spared a part. You¡¯ve erred, Kalin Serene. And a dire error it will be.

    Though, there''d been one thing the Silver Eagle had predicted true. It was now apparent they''d never again see eye to eye.

    Kazir ordered a full retreat. Blood rolled down the sides of his face where tears should have been . So much for an honorable death.

 Chapter 36: Another of the Forest

    <u>Chapter 36 - Another of the Forest</u>

    The Tarmians marched towards the Cinder River in an orderly manner. Some crossed a narrow wood bridge used by the villagers that once were. Most utilised boats to get across. Even with the battle over, Sar''tara couldn''t rid herself of the sick feeling in her gut. It felt as if a lump were stuck in her throat. She fell to her knees and gagged. Her bloodied hand clamped down on her mouth.

    "Sar''tara?" Kalin knelt down beside her. "What''s wrong?"

    "I don''t know. I still feel sick."

    "Still? Since when¡­? Were Kazir''s blades poisoned?" Kalin went into shock after hearing his own words. A dim light glowed beside Sar''tara. Everflowers had grown where her blood had fallen. "You''re still bleeding!"

    "It''s just my hand. It will be better by morning¡­" The sickness seemed to come and go. Kalin picked her up in his warm arms and carried her back. The wave of Xenarian soldiers parted and allowed him through. "I''m alright," she assured him. Her mind was clear. Her limbs moved normally. Stars in the night sky dimmed as dawn approached. Her eyes worked fine as well. "I''ve felt like this since morning. I don''t think it''s poison."

    "Call the physics!" Kalin cried, as if he hadn''t heard her at all. He took her to where the medic tents had been erected.

    Sar''tara refrained from protesting further, rather enjoying being carried by him. The world around her turned dark as Kalin ducked into a large tent. He set her down on one of many empty makeshift beds. Meredith and a few others came running forth.

    "Your Grace! What¡ª"

    "Please look after her. She may have been poisoned," he said.

    Kalin looked to be on the verge of tears. His lips curved down. She had never seen such a pained expression on his face. Her pillar was damaged because she too was damaged.

    Meredith knelt before her and gasped upon seeing her stained left hand. "I thought I''d bandaged that hand right good and well. And your shoulders! Flames, I''ve never seen such giant bruises. Did you fall off a horse?"

    "Twice," Sar''tara answered with a weak smile.

    Meredith gave another surprised gasp. "And your neck isn¡¯t broken? The heavens must love you." The woman worked seamlessly, changing Sar''tara''s bandages and wiping her body down with hot water that had been prepared well in advance for potentially injured soldiers. Some parts stung. Sar''tara stayed silent. The nauseating feeling had eased. But she had no doubt that it would return. "Describe your symptoms to me," Meredith commanded.

    "I only feel tight around the chest and need to vomit every once in a while. But nothing comes up."

    Meredith''s eyes narrowed. "Go into more detail. When did this begin?"

    Sar''tara thought for a moment. She relayed everything she could remember. Meredith''s eyebrows went higher with every word Sar''tara uttered. It made her feel uneasy. "Is it actually poison?"

    "No," the physic answered. "No, I don''t think so. Sleep for now. You will be quite alright. I promise."

    ***

    Kalin groaned as his eyes snapped open. The white cloth of the medical tent shimmered as daylight pierced through the fabric. He''d fallen asleep when he didn''t mean to. There were other patients in the tent, though none seemed to be in too terrible a condition.

    Kalin''s hand was curled around Sar''tara''s, her sleeping face serene and adorable. Her chest rose and fell with every breath. She opened her eyes as he shifted, trying to relax his stiff neck. He let go of her hand. "Did I wake you?"

    "Good morning," Sar''tara said, ignoring his question. She slowly sat upright and stretched her limbs.

    "How are you feeling?"

    "Better. Meredith says that it wasn''t poison. I think it may have just been my unease. I''m sorry for worrying you." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze fixed on her lap. She seemed disappointed for having worried him.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "It isn''t your unease either," Meredith said, approaching with two bowls full of food. "These have cooled down, but they should be filling. I apologize, grace. These are for Lady Sar''tara only. Should I get something for you as well?"

    Kalin shook his head despite his growling stomach. Sar''tara devoured everything before her with speedy precision as he''d seen her do so often. The food was gone within moments.

    "Can I have more please? Is there cake? I''m craving something sweet. Anything."

    "I''m afraid there isn''t cake," Meredith said. She gave a warm smile. "Regarding what you were feeling last night¡­" the physic now turned to Kalin, fidgeting with her hands. "Your grace, to put it bluntly, I believe the lady is pregnant."

    Kalin tilted his head. His mind went blank. An illegitimate child.

    "Pregnant?" Sar''tara asked. "As in a child? My child?" Her voice carried an excited curiosity.

    Kalin slowly nodded. He touched her cheeks with the backs of his fingers, her smile stabbing through his guilt wrought heart. "I think I''m going to take a moment outside," he said, rising to his feet. Once out, Kalin ran. He ran straight out of the military encampment ¡ªignoring startled call outs from the encampment guards, and down to the riverbank of the Cinder River, falling down on his knees before coming to a full stop, scraping them in the process.

    He clutched the sides of his head and bent over, staring at his own reflection. His own heinous reflection, brown hair disheveled and face wrought with madness. Desperate, Kalin clawed at the ground, dirt getting stuck between his nails. He clawed and clawed just as an animal trying to dig a burrow. He wanted to hide. Wanted to surround himself in the cold of a pit and never again see the light. Tears of anguish disappeared into the water of the river. His lungs cried out for air.

    "The Eternal Flames burn me. What have I done to her? What am I to do now¡­?"

    He cried. He wanted Sar''tara at his side. But no one would agree with that. She would forever be an outcast within high society, her name slandered and her actions denounced. She was going to be the mother of his child. He''d just put a leash around a free spirit.

    Sar''tara''s beautiful face surfaced within the waters. He imagined her drifting away. Just as she had been that terrible night. Heavens¡­ how alone did she feel when her home had been destroyed?

    His hand reached out to call her. He couldn''t let her leave. Her smiles gave him peace. Her dark green eyes gave him confidence. She stood equal to him on a battlefield. Was headstrong and did not fear what shouldn''t be feared. His grueling life had changed when she arrived. He cherished every moment spent with her. Looked forward to their time together in the coming days. Everything about her was admirable. From her eagerness to learn anything and everything, to her naivety and often boastful confidence. Even the way she consumed her meals with no regard for table manners. But she was illiterate by aristocratic standards. The court would hound her to no end. Would hound him. And their child. That child would never have a proper upbringing. A lifetime of misery and torture awaited Sar''tara and her child. His child.

    Did not fear what shouldn''t be feared¡­ Her voice echoed in his mind. "Does Kalin Serene fear words?"

    Why should he fear the other nobles when he stood above them? Sar''tara wasn''t so weak as to crumble under insults. And who would be brazen enough to insult her when he stood with her?

    Kalin grit his teeth. There was an answer. A single act that would put his worries to rest. He ran back to the encampment and burst into the medical tent. Meredith was still there, keeping his beloved company. She was smiling. It widened when she saw him. He took a deep breath. He unfastened his sword belt and went down on his knees. He offered his sword to her. It was the only object of value he had at that moment.

    "Sar''tara. Will you marry me?" If the court shunned them, then so be it. He was willing to fight the world if it meant being with her.

    "Marry?" Sar''tara asked.

    "Your Grace," Meredith began, "I don''t think she understands the concept of marriage. So, I think it best that I describe this to her¡­"

    "Oh, of course," Kalin said quickly. He sat there, waiting. He could feel the heat within his cheeks. Sar''tara, at all times, maintained her inquisitive smile. He took her hand and walked outside once Meredith had finished her explanation. News was circulating like wildfire. The other patients within the tent had already spread rumors of a new member of High House Serene. Now, news of their lord''s proposal was going around just as quickly. The camp was jittery with excitement. The vast majority of soldiers exposed themselves to be hapless romantics. A side that none of them dared to express alone lest they risk dying of embarrassment.

    ***

    Sar''tara bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Kalin''s hand tightened around her own. She would have her own child. Be a mother. The last missing piece of the family she had wanted. A piece she didn''t know was missing. A child whom she could raise and love just as Ny''Danis had raised her. A child that would continue being loved by both parents throughout their entire lives instead of being abandoned.

    ''Live freely'', Ny''Danis had said. Sar''tara didn''t know if she had it in her to forget her past. To forget the burning forest. Her fallen sisters. But she knew she didn''t have to let that memory plague her dreams. She didn¡¯t have to let it chain her. She would forever chase justice for her sisters. But vengeance was no longer her priority. Her new home ¡ªnew family¡ª was now her focus.

    She stopped walking. "Meredith says I can''t drink ale during my pregnancy," she grumbled.

    "Sar''tara¡­"

    "I know. The child will be affected." She bit her lip. "My own child," she whispered.

    "Our child," Kalin said as he hugged her.

    "Yes. Our. I accept your proposal. I''ll marry you and formally bind you to me," she said, returning his embrace.

    "I''m already bound to you."

 Chapter 37 [FINAL VOLUME ONE CHAPTER]: A Wedding and a Festival (New(ish) art piece inside!)

    <u>Chapter 37 - A Wedding and a Festival</u>

    Grand as Sar''tara''s imaginations were, they weren''t nearly as grand as they should have been. There weren''t any castles that she could see. But the city of Metsiphon was much larger than the garrison. Nothing stood above the city walls except for a palace that was on slightly higher ground. Kalin''s personal home. Only the top of it could be seen. The gates to the city remained open. The roads leading to it had been cleared. News of the duke''s triumphant return had already reached Metsiphon. Its people were lined up along the main street, ready to provide a hero''s welcome.

    Kalin took Sar''tara''s hand as they strode inside, their horses nearly grazing against each other. She gasped in surprise just as she had when seeing the garrison. She had thought the garrison to have an immeasurable number of people. Metsiphon''s streets had far more ¡ªmany of them women. Something that was lacking in Arcaeus Peak. People cheered and threw flowers as the duke''s contingent passed them by. It was a celebration, Sar''tara realized. Late as it was, they were celebrating Kalin''s successful return. Some of them looked to her curiously. Looked to the cloaked woman whose hand the duke held, who would soon be the duchess of Xenaria. She would soon be one of the most powerful people in the nation. Something she hadn''t had time to consider. It would give her the strength to move armies.

    But not the strength to be a good mother or wife. She couldn''t let vengeance cloud her thoughts or she would end up neglecting her child just as Ny''Danis had.

    Sar''tara felt odd, looking down at Metsiphon''s citizens as her horse trotted along. Kalin was waving his free hand and wearing a wide smile. She did the same. The cheering seemed to increase.

    There was much cause for the people to be happy. A festival was to be held celebrating the beginning of the sowing season in a few days. A festival that would take place the same day as her wedding. An event where she would formally be bound to Kalin. Sar''tara was looking forward to the celebrations. To dancing and singing and eating and drinking. To reliving her past memories with the Selharr, but with her new family instead.

    The contingent stopped before the great palace. Its surrounding area was void of common people. Guards in off-white colored clothes and bearing spears greeted Kalin. Towering flagpoles before the palace held banners bearing the silver eagle. "This place is yours only?" Sar''tara asked, as she dismounted. "Isn''t it too big?"

    "Yes. Most of the rooms go unoccupied. But it''s been in the family for generations. It is a symbol of House Serene''s status and wealth. Everything aside, we won''t be seeing much of each other until the wedding," Kalin said as women in in plain grey tunics poured out of the palace. "Not even at night. It isn''t proper for us to see one another before the wedding. Those are your maids. Go and follow them. They''ll have you measured for your dress and get you cleaned up."

    "Dress? I can''t wear this?"

    "You could, but¡­ I''d like to see you in a dress. Please?"

    Sar''tara shrugged and agreed. Kalin''s cheeks were colored. She couldn''t understand why he would be embarrassed when asking her to change clothes for a single day. She did as was asked and followed the maids inside.

    "We greet the lady to be," all twelve maids said in unison whilst bowing. It was as if they had rehearsed the event in advance.

    "Hello," Sar''tara replied nervously. She wasn''t sure as to how she was expected to go about greeting each maid individually.

    The eldest maid, or at least the one that seemed to be the eldest, stepped out of line. "My lady, I am Kara, the head maid of the manor. If you would please follow us," she said.

    Sar''tara nodded and obeyed. The palace interior was a breathtaking sight on its own. Its halls were much more spacious than those of a castle. They were far more welcoming. Large glass windows lay at every few feet. Floors were carpeted. Pale blue luminite stones were held in place along the walls, all of them smooth and round and one in size. Some of the walls held paintings of different scenes and people. Those with people were labelled. They were images of past members of House Serene. Sar''tara didn''t have time to take any of it in as Kara hurried along.

    She was lead into a bright room where a single woman in a more formal attire awaited. Her hair was tied into a large bun and she wore small glass windows before her eyes. Dozens of colorful dresses hung from a clothing rack beside her. She was a seamstress, Sar''tara realized. The room only contained a couple of velvet cushioned seats and a large mirror.

    The woman rose to her feet, standing nearly as tall as Sar''tara herself with the aid of heels. She put a hand to her chest and bent over slightly. "My lady. My name is Selnor Sevanna. I am the seventh generation owner of Sevanna''s Needles, the largest dressmaking company in Xenaria. We also hold a valuable position amongst the largest merchant guilds. It is not like Lord Serene to hold celebratory events on such short notice, but I assure you, even with such limited time, you are in good hands."

    Sar''tara held out her hand to shake just as she''d seen soldiers do often. "I am Sar''tara Vashiri, huntress of the Selharr, and, err, soon to be Sar''tara Serene," Sar''tara said, introducing herself as a Vashiri would.

    Selnor took the offered hand and examined it rather than shaking it. She felt Sar''tara''s calluses and frowned. "Such rough fingertips¡­" The seamstress looked up and her eyes widened at Sar''tara''s attire beneath the heavy soldier''s cloak around her shoulders. "And¡­ bold clothing choice. Forgive me. Which noble house did you say you were from?"

    "None," Sar''tara answered. "I am a daughter of the forest."

    "Right¡­ Daughter of the forest¡­ I didn''t think Lord Serene was a man of such character. To be so daring as to wed a woman from an establishment¡­ Daughter of the forest. I''ve never heard of it. Which city is it from?"

    Sar''tara tilted her head. The head maid stepped up before her. "Miss Sevanna, Lady Sar''tara is no such woman. She hails from the now burnt Papillion Forest. Its only survivor."

    "Oh. Oh dear. I am terribly sorry for my offense, my lady," Selnor began as she bowed.

    "I took no offense," Sar''tara replied honestly, still confused.

    "Right! My lady is most merciful! Then let''s get to work!" Selnor stepped forward, her heels clacking against the polished flooring. She unpinned Sar''tara''s cloak and threw it to a couch. "Hmm. Just a breast band and trousers. Truly bold indeed." Sar''tara was stripped bare. There were hands all over her. It was a bit uncomfortable. Selnor took out a measuring tape and began noting down each of Sar''tara''s measurements. "Hmm. Tall without heels. Supple yet also firm breasts. And my, a so very desirable waistline. I''m almost jealous. Do you know what? I think we can forgo a corset. Yes. You already have good posture. That will save us some time. Oh! A scar on your back. Thank the Flame it''s your back. That part will remain covered. I think a tighter and more flexible dress will do. Hmm. Something that shows a bit more skin than necessary to reflect your daring personality."

    Selnor stepped away and ran her hands through the many dresses within the room. She pulled a few out. "This. Maybe this. Ah, this one for sure. It would just need maybe a slit at the thighs." She turned back to Sar''tara. "Does my lady have any preferences?"

    Sar''tara shook her head, though her eyes were fixated upon a deep green. The maids were whispering excitedly behind her.

    Selnor noticed her gaze and pulled the dress out. "Green. Just like the forest. Just like your eyes. Yes. I can make this work. We''ll make his grace fall for you all over again!"

    By the end of it all, Sar''tara was completely exhausted despite having never left the room. She had been forced to try on many dresses. Selnor had eventually decided upon one since Sar''tara couldn''t decide which to wear. None of them were particularly comfortable. But she couldn''t deny their inherent beauty. They reminded her of Ny''Danis. The Forest Deity had also worn a dress. If only her Mother had been as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

    Night had already fallen. The head maid led Sar''tara to another smaller room with a bathtub filled with hot water. She stripped again and stepped inside. "My lady, would you like a night gown to be brought?"

    "No thanks. I much prefer my own clothes."

    "As you wish." Kara gently scrubbed Sar''tara''s back. She was experienced with her hands and pressed at just the right points to heal fatigue. She then helped Sar''tara dry and dress as well. Everything was done for her as if she wasn''t her own person. As if she was just an object needing to be adorned and cleaned. It was another strange custom of plains dwellers. The highest among them had many servants waiting to do any task. Sar''tara wasn''t fond of it. She preferred doing things on her own. But she made no complaint. As Kalin had once said, it was better not to disturb someone with their tasks. They were paid for it. And with that payment, they purchased objects of need.

    "My lady, if there is anything else you need, please don''t hesitate to call us. Someone will be ready to serve at any moment."

    Sar''tara nodded as she entered her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and breathed in her moment of privacy. The room was too spacious. Three empty wardrobes. A fourth one with nightgowns. A desk by a wall with an oval mirror. Then there was the bed. Large enough for four Selharr Vashiri women to sleep on together. Its wooden frame had intricate carvings of flowers. And Sar''tara had this to herself. A lovely, soft bed all to herself. A cold bed with all too much space and none to share it with. She was alone again. Kalin wouldn''t come. She would be sleeping alone for a few nights.

    Sar''tara touched her belly. "Maybe not truly alone," she whispered as she tucked herself under the sheets.

    ***

    The day of the wedding arrived. Selnor came to the palace early in the morning with Sar''tara''s new dress. A forest green with hints of brown near the bottom. It was sleeveless and fit tight around the torso while widening past the thighs. The edges of the dress were made of silk, its brilliant sheen only further enhancing Sar''tara''s smooth skin. She was also given a pair of small shoes to wear instead of boots. They were tight and hurt her feet. She didn''t complain. It was just for one day. She seated herself before a mirror. Sar''tara couldn''t help but admire her own looks. Her maids showered her with compliments. The seamstress had done a fine job. If only my sisters could see me now¡­ Her lips held a pained smile.

    Younger maids fussed over Sar''tara''s hair. She kept her eyes closed during the process, wondering just how she would end up looking. In the end, not much changed. It was decided that her hair would be kept loose and over her right shoulder. They claimed it to be the most beautiful and mature option. Sar''tara agreed. Excited, the maids sprayed her with perfume with scent akin to that of flowers and led her out, eager to present her to the duke.

    She imagined what kind of reaction Kalin would have. What kind of compliments he would give. Her heart thumped loud. Would he show his affection rather than speak of it? She blushed at the thought.

    Sar''tara raised the bottom of her dress just above her ankles as she stepped down a wide central staircase. At its base, Kalin, dressed in a black coat with gold buttons and a ceremonious sword at his waist, stood in a half state of shock, conversing with a man in armor and a woman with a head of gold. Sar''tara felt her mouth open slightly. Whoever the woman was, she was extremely beautiful even without a lavish dress. She had a heart-shaped face with green eyes a slight darker shade than Sar''tara''s own. Her gold locks reached down to her waist. A maroon cloak hung from her shoulders. Despite standing a full head shorter than both Kalin and the armored man, she seemed to carry herself with a dignity beyond the both of them.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "Your highness, and Sir Aegis," Kalin was saying. "I wasn''t expecting you¡­ I mean anyone for that matter. There haven''t been adequate preparations."

    Highness? Was that Xenaria''s crown princess?

    "You know how she''s like, Kalin," the armored man said. His plates were entirely black, and his shoulders more broad than Kalin''s. His figure matched that of Commander Rask. "We got your invitation ¡ªer, I mean letter regarding your wedding about a dozen days ago. I''d never hear the end of it if I didn''t bring her. Probably won''t hear the end of it either from others. My elder brother was supposed to be promoted to Queen''s Guard captain today, and she also had a briefing to attend tomorrow. Had to drive the horses hard to make it to Metsiphon today."

    "Oh shush, Madrivall," the gold haired woman said. "There was no way I''d miss Kalin''s wedding. If you wanted to keep it a secret, you could have just invited me and been done with rather than sending letters as an announcement" she said, frowning and putting her hands on her hips. "I can''t believe you ¡ªStone faced Kalin¡ª are getting married before I am. So where''s the lucky ¡ªis this her!?" the woman cried as Sar''tara reached the bottom of the stairs. She ran up and grabbed Sar''tara by the arm, wearing a childish grin. "I''m stealing her for a bit, Kalin. Feel free to catch up with Madrivall in the meantime."

    Sar''tara stumbled as she was being dragged away. She wasn''t used to her new clothes and shoes and had to focus on maintaining her balance rather than voicing an objection. "Wait," she finally managed to say after they''d already gone a fair distance. To her surprise, the woman actually stopped running.

    "Yes?"

    "I wanted his opinion¡­" Sar''tara said, biting the edge of her lips. She felt embarrassed to utter those words before someone other than Kalin.

    "You''ll just have to settle for mine. Besides, he''ll get to see a whole lot of you from now on anyway." The woman stepped away and looked Sar''tara up and down. "Flames. You''re just as tall as they are. Sleeveless dress. Green like new leaves. Fairly low cut for my tastes but not quite exhibitionist levels that you''d find on certain streets. The silk edges are the perfect accent. Selnor''s work no doubt. She practically spells her own name over her work. Gosh. And your eyes. Selnor really captured a forest within you. You look breathtaking, Sar''tara Vashiri. Ah, pardon my manners. I''m Dahlia of House Lakris. Queen to be of Xenaria."

    Sar''tara cocked her head. "Dahlia¡­ like the flower?" She certainly was as lovely as a flower. Queen¡­

    "Yes! Exactly. I like you already. So? Are my compliments enough to keep you away from him for the time being?" Dahlia asked, elbowing Sar''tara''s side.

    She blushed, nodding. She could wait a little longer. She was a bit curious about Dahlia as well. As per the nation''s hierarchy, Dahlia would be the only person Sar''tara would need to answer to.

    Dahlia linked her arm with Sar''tara''s and began walking. "Tell me about yourself. How exactly did you catch Kalin in mere months where as I failed trying for years?"

    "Do you love him too?"

    "I was enamored with him once upon a time. But my heart now belongs to another. I still do admire Lord Serene. He''s been the bastion of Xenaria for so long and has never complained about his duties. I don''t mean to bring up bad memories during your wedding, Sar''tara, but as this nation''s soon to be ruler, I am sorry. Your home was destroyed because we were lacking."

    "Don''t say that. Neither you nor Kalin could possibly have known. He still blames himself from time to time even when I tell him otherwise."

    "We couldn''t have known. But we could have better prepared for threats. Hahh, you''re right. No use crying over spilt milk. Especially not today. A wedding during the evening and the Triluna Festival after dusk. It¡¯s a dream to most women. Anyhow, go on. Spill the details. What made Kalin fall for you?"

    "I don''t know," Sar''tara said honestly. She couldn''t think of anything specific. Kalin had never once described what it was he loved about her. Just that he did. "I always thought he admired my strength as a warrior above anything else."

    Dahlia raised an eyebrow. "Strength, huh? I doubt that was all but¡­ I suppose it all adds up. I hear you''re quite adept in combat. You''re someone Kalin can share his solitary life with. Someone who understands the duties of a soldier and can help relieve his burdens. He always had a distant look in his eyes, as if he were different from everyone else. Even long before he inherited his title. You''re that someone in the distance that he has always been searching for."

    Sar''tara remained silent. Dahlia was also the only other woman that Sar''tara had met during her time with plains dwellers that didn''t speak formally or as an inferior. Meredith had started out that way, but her speech had become much akin to how she spoke to Kalin.

    A question remained on the tip of Sar''tara''s tongue. She wasn''t sure how to go about asking it. Dahlia was admiring the scene of the palace grounds. Birds fluttered about under a clear morning sky. Some pecked at the ground for unsuspecting worms. "It has been a long time since I last had reason to visit Metsiphon." She glanced up at Sar''tara and frowned. "There''s something you want to say. Your expression is all too easily read."

    "As the ruler, everyone here obeys you. Kalin said that declaring a war is a right belonging to you. I would¡ª"

    "The Thousand Sun City?" Dahlia broke in. Her cheery expression had all but vanished. Sar''tara flinched. The queen to be was extremely young. And yet, the same air of authority flowed from her that Sar''tara expected to come from her eldest sisters. Something that should only have come with experience.

    "Yes¡­" she answered. She only wanted to know how easy it would be for the queen to declare a war and mobilize the nation.

    Dahlia scratched her head. Her frown became playful as she suddenly pinched Sar''tara''s cheek. "Look at you. That isn''t the face of someone on the happiest day of their life. Today''s for enjoying. No more gloomy topics! Ask me something else."

    Sar''tara looked down. Everyone around her seemed ecstatic. A wedding and a festival on the same day. All of Metsiphon was experiencing joy. She took in a deep breath and forced a gentle curl on her lips. She looked into Dahlia''s eyes. Dahlia who was as if Freya, Stel''Na and a nymph were one person. The least Sar''tara could do was enjoy herself on such a day. Enjoy herself to honor the memories of her fallen family. "What is the sea like?" she finally asked.

    "See? That is a more appropriate question! Blue. And vast. Just like the sky. Nothing but water as far as the eyes can see. Being on a ship is easily one of the most liberating experiences."

    "Like riding a horse?"

    "Oh no. Not even close to similar. Actually, maybe a bit. I''m not overly fond of horses. They smell and demand too much care and¡­"

    Sar''tara lost herself in conversation and laughter. Dahlia was a delight to be around. They toured the palace grounds and garden together, speaking to each other about their lives. Sar''tara came to learn much about cities and the culture of plains dwellers. Dahlia also spoke in great detail about landscapes and different animals.

    "I never thought House Serene would hold such a low budget wedding," Dahlia said, as evening began. "Makes sense given the lack in attendees. Though, to not even invite extended members of their own House that live in Metsiphon¡­"

    "Kalin has other family?"

    "Distant cousins and aunts and uncles. They hold no formal titles. I understand why he wouldn''t want them present. None of them act the part of a Serene. They''ve always coveted the power of the main line. I hear they''ve been working with criminal guilds and¡­ never you mind. This isn''t the place for such a discussion. Come now, you finally get to see Kalin''s reaction!"

    Dahlia pulled her along to the dining hall. Sounds were being played the likes of which Sar''tara had never heard before. Music from instruments. She had only learned of them recently. Their melody sent her heart into a flutter. It was like singing, but not quite. Sar''tara approached the dining table where Kalin was seated. His dark brown hair had been neatly combed, and a silver eagle pin was attached to the collar of his black coat. His eyes followed her every step. She blushed at the silent compliment and took his hand, seating herself beside him.

    "You look lovely," Kalin said.

    "Is that all?"

    "I can''t put more words to it. But I will repeat those words as many times as you want me to."

    Sar''tara relinquished her greed. One compliment was enough from him. She held his hand as minstrels performed with their instruments. Dahlia danced with a man named Madrivall Aegis ¡ªher husband to be. Sar''tara wished to take part, but even the dances of plains dwellers were complex and had a certain form to it. She settled for watching the event instead while resting her head on Kalin''s shoulder, wondering just when the food would be brought out.

    It eventually was brought out as the sun began to fall. The hall remained bright thanks to luminite chandeliers. Sar''tara fidgeted as a whole roast boar ¡ªsmaller in size than what she was used to¡ª was placed upon the table by maids in grey. Portions were cut and served to both couples. Sar''tara frowned at her serving but made no mention of it, seeing as how Dahlia was quite content with her own portion. Everyone dug in, utilising a knife and another utensil called a fork to eat small bites at a time.

    Sar''tara squirmed uncomfortably. She was in the presence of Xenaria''s queen to be and sensed that mannerisms actually mattered. She picked up her own utensils, holding them as she would weapons, as children hold their spoons, grasping at it with all fingers curled into the palms.

    "Sar''tara, you can eat with your hands," Kalin said. Both Madrivall and Dahlia looked up, causing Sar''tara to flush. To prove his point, Kalin dropped his tools and took a large bite out of his food.

    "Oh, thank heavens!" Dalia beamed. "I really do like you, Sar''tara! I now declare pigging out a complete normalcy! Any other situation, and we''d be forced to maintain our false airs and leave the table less than half full. Madrivall, cut me another slice. Flames, it''s been a long time since I ate for pleasure. Make it a big slice. Give the bride more too. Just look at that frown. You''d never guess she was getting married!"

    Sar''tara blushed even harder. The maids standing by at the corners gasped. Madrivall bit his tongue, hesitating. He received a sharp elbow to the side from the gold haired woman and then did as he was told. His dark armor had been discarded and he instead wore a coat similar to Kalin. Though his was a deep blue in color. A sharp contrast to his shoulder length brown hair.

    "By the way, is this all, Kalin?" Dahlia asked. "No walk down an aisle? No wedding vows? No large gifts? Surely you could have spared that much for your own wife."

    "I have no need for a gift other than Kalin," Sar''tara said softly.

    It was now Dahlia''s turn to blush. The open claims of affection caused an awkward silence to hang in the air. Much of this changed when wine was served. Jokes about Kalin''s inability to hold his drink resumed the cheerful atmosphere. Sar''tara found wine to a have a more pleasant taste to ale with her first sip, but it was still soft for a drink. She tipped the glass to her lips again when Kalin caught her hand.

    "No drinks while you''re pregnant," he said with a dark tone of voice.

    Sar''tara''s brow twitched. She opened her mouth to protest, but the seriousness of his face gave her pause. She nodded and set her glass down, expecting him to give answers regarding this later.

    As the night wore on, Dahlia and Madrivall retired to their given rooms. Kalin and Sar''tara went outside for a walk in the gardens. The skies were clear, as is desired during the Triluna festival. Three full moons shone bright, each challenging its sisters to the greatest majesty. From beyond palace grounds, Sar''tara could see a bonfire deep within Metsiphon''s main street. Sounds of laughter and songs drifted with the wind. She wanted to go. Wanted to take part in spinning around a great fire. But the longer she stared, the harder it became to hold back memories of evil flames. Flames of desolation. Each time she tried recalling celebrations around a bonfire, a burning forest materialized. Laughter was replaced with screams. Dancing shadows were devoured by orange heat.

    "Do you want to go?" Kalin asked.

    She clutched his arm and forced back her tears, a single drop squeezing through her clenched eyelids. "No," she breathed. "Maybe one day, I will remember what it was like to have fun around a fire. Not today." Sar''tara looked into Kalin''s deep brown eyes. Their edges were lined with silver as moonlight touched their glossy surface. Her dark memories faded as she lost herself within them. It was as if she were surrounded by trees again. He called her green eyes a forest. She thought the same of his brown pair.

    Kalin was her pillar. Her heart healer. And the only remaining person that she still could claim to love. He had brought her out from the brink of despair. Had protected her during weakness. And had even given her a child to bear. Something bright to look forward to. Sar''tara had hopes that one day, so long as she remained at his side, she would be able to leave behind the darkness of her past. That she would conquer her fears of fire. Fire that had once provided her warmth and joy. "I don''t want the memory of tonight to be tainted," Sar''tara whispered.

    Kalin nodded and led her to the palace gardens. There wasn''t much to see. Every tree was barren. Of the flowers, most were too small to notice. Sar''tara clung to his side, sharing his warmth. Regardless of the lifeless gardens, she felt at ease among them. She was once again in the company of trees. "They will bloom again soon. It will be far more beautiful then," he said.

    "I know," Sar''tara replied. "But for now, this is enough. Thank you."

    "That isn''t why I brought you here." Kalin held out his hand, revealing two peach pits. "Perhaps not an ideal time for them. But warmer temperatures are beginning to arrive. I''ve already decided where to put them. All that¡¯s left is to plant them."

    Sar''tara turned away. She had forgotten about the seeds. Forgotten about the last memory of her former home. But Kalin had remembered for her. She tightened her grip around his arm and blinked back her tears once more. He stopped before an empty section of the garden. Two small holes barely a few inches deep had already been dug.

    Kalin paused. "Would you rather we plant them under daylight?"

    "No. Now works just fine," Sar''tara said. She took hold of both of Kalin''s hands and pressed her forehead against his. She stood there for a while, leaning against him with her eyes closed. She then finally took a seed and placed it in the ground while Kalin planted the second.

    "I look forward to the day they bear flowers."

    "So do I."

    Volume 1: "Daughters of the Forest"

    End!

 Epilogue: Heart-less

    <u>Epilogue - Heart-less</u>

    Sar''tara rested the back of her head against the wall, smearing new tears over dried ones upon her cheek. Two midwives stood in the corner, working their hands to clean towels. A few maids aided them, whispering with excitement.

    The pillow at Sar''tara''s back was drenched in sweat. She never figured childbirth would come with such pain. The babe in her arm had finally stopped crying. A shadow enveloped her as Kalin leaned over to get a look at his daughter, covering the beam of light coming from the six-paned window. The babe started crying again, causing him to stagger back and frown.

    Sar''tara smiled, rocking her bundled daughter back and forth until it quieted again. She pressed a soft kiss to the child''s forehead.

    "Have you thought of a name?" Kalin asked.

    She shook her head. They''d gone over a few names for both a boy and a girl. For a girl they''d been stuck between Elizabeth, Elisse, Eliza, and Elesmere. The names all bore significance to House Serene, being carried by renowned past members. But Sar''tara couldn''t agree with them. The one she liked most was Eliza. But it still felt off.

    She stared long and hard at her daughter. The dark''s of the child''s eyes stared back at her and its tiny lips seemed to curl into a smile. "Elizia," Sar''tara breathed. "I like Elizia."

    Kalin scratched at his beard. It''d grown a bit unruly of late. "Elizia¡­ Elizia Serene. I like that. Are you sure of it then?"

    Sar''tara nodded. The final piece to complete her heart. Her family. "I will always love you," she whispered into Elizia''s ear.

    ***

    The Sun scribbled notes into an empty book, squinting to see his written words in the dimly lit dungeons beneath the citadel. He kept his shoulders slightly raised, not wanting to let his white robes pick up dust by dragging along the floor. A maid in yellow walked beside him carrying a jar of ink in her hands. Screams could be heard coming from the far end of the dungeon.

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    The Sun paused as a man approached from beyond the dark corridor, his face masked by a dirty piece of burlap with two holes for eyes. He was dressed in plain clothes, save for a whip hanging from the belt at his waist.

    "Your Brilliance," the man breathed, getting down on both knees.

    "How is everything progressing?"

    "Well, we''re doing as you said. But¡­ She''s only a child¡­"

    The Sun resisted the urge to kick the man to death right then. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled a deep breath. All of them broke under the pleading screams echoing from the far end of the dungeon. None of them were hardened enough to carry out the torture of the prisoner. Too much sympathy was dangerous. This one would need to be killed and replaced just as the three torturers before him.

    "She is a darkspawn child," The Sun hissed. "Do you understand? Or do you want to know what will happen if you start sympathizing with her? The witchcraft burning your soul will be the last of it. First you will have to stand trial amongst the judges and then endure the punishment ordained by Goddess Trillia." The Sun cringed inside. There was no point in ranting when he was going to have the man killed anyway. He''d played his part as ''The Lord Sun'' for so long that it had become a part of him. "Now, what was the girl''s name? I''d forgotten to write it down last time."

    "I believe it was Tayvi, brilliance. Or perhaps Tavi."

    "Imbecile! You can''t even get it right? Ugh. I guess the name''s not so important. Has there been any changes?"

    "She''s stopped calling for her Mother," the man said. "She''s instead been calling out her last ''saviour''s'' name instead."

    The Sun nodded his approval. "Good. Very good. Continue on then. Keep her suffering with some breaks of kindness in between from another. This time, instead of killing the saviour, have them pretend to save her and then betray her."

    "Your Brilliance, that¡­"

    "What? Too cruel?" The Sun said, his voice rising.

    "No! No, it will be done."

    The Sun nodded again. He turned around and began walking away, his maid following, the sounds of her shoes echoing along the thin passageway. He handed his pen to her and held the book out in his hand, letting the ink dry before snapping it shut. He wondered if it was possible to turn a person created from Chronary into a Heartless soldier. The exact Chronary sentence for creating a Heartless was lost on him. Only the Tortured King knew the correct words. It would take a great deal of experimenting and sacrifices if he was to find a way to create Heartless himself.

    Of course, the prize would be Tavi. If she really could be turned, one with the blood of a lesser deity would make a most powerful Heartless. But first, she would have to lose her own heart. She would need to learn to love, and trust. And then have those feelings betrayed over and over and over again.

    Even if she couldn''t be turned, her mind would break eventually. And once she learned to master the powers of Ny''Danis hidden within her blood, she would become a terrifying monster.

 Chapter 38: Three Friends (Volume 2, Chapter 1)

    <u>Chapter 1 - Three Friends</u>

    <hr>

    15 Years Later...

    Year 4237 of the Second Calendar, 9<sup>th</sup> cycle of Elaina

    <hr>

    The tiny red dot in the distance flared like a brilliant beacon. An evil spirit''s eye. It stared back at the girl, antagonizing her, causing her to grit her teeth and puff up her cheeks. She scowled. The red speck seemed to grow larger by the second as if to taunt her. Her scowl deepened.

    "Come on! What are you waiting for?" Elizia asked, hands on her hips.

    Emeria breathed in, then exhaled through her mouth. A strong wind blew back her long and bright hair. Every ounce of her focus pierced the red dot. It still angered her. The breathing technique was not of much use. Regardless, she had stood in that fixated position long enough. Convinced that she had the right position this time, she let her fingers slide back from the bowstring and watched the arrow fly, watched as it slowly veered off course, causing lines of frustration to reappear on her face.

    The arrow fell flat over ten meters short of the target in length and half that distance in width. "No way. It should have been perfect this time. I had the distance measured and position corrected since¡ª" she stopped herself, not wanting to let the other girl know that she had been up for half the night practicing the shot, blisters on her fingertips.

    Elizia laughed. "It''s not just about the measurement, silly. You have to factor everything in and let yourself become one with the arrow. Feel yourself pierce the target and the projectile will fly true!"

    "That doesn''t make any sense. This isn''t magic. There''s always technique and skill involved. Practice enough times and you get better."

    "Well of course there''s skill involved. You didn''t account for the wind. It was blowing to your southeast when you loosed. You should have aimed slightly higher and more to your left."

    Emeria twisted her mouth and dropped the bow. She rolled down the sleeves of her laced white shirt. "This is stupid. Swordsmen are much better than archers and the skill and technique involved is also much higher. A good swordsman will always be able to block an incoming arrow."

    "You''d have to be a legendary swordsman to block an arrow from a good archer. And even then, an arrow in the back won''t do a sword wielder much good," Elizia said. She tied her chestnut hair into a bun and nocked an arrow. She drew back to her chin, her buttoned shirt folding at the back as it flexed, and effortlessly fired an arrow which pierced its mark. Sunlight shone on her olive skin and touched the edges of a honey smile, painting a triumphant picture.

    Emeria bit her lip, jealous. She muttered something under her breath as she walked away from the open shooting range.

    "Such language and demeanor is unbecoming of the royal heir," someone said as she turned the corner. Azurus, a pale-blue eyed knight ¡ªher assigned knight¡ª and Queen''s Guard to be, stood with his arms crossed, longsword at his waist. His normally unruly tanned hair had been combed neatly, and navy blue uniform, buttoned up, fitting tight. "Even an average fighter can block arrows from a legendary archer if he had a shield."

    Elizia turned the corner as well. "We''re talking about which is the greater weapon and obviously, it''s the bow. How come you''re always taking Emma''s side, Azurus?"

    The sudden accusation caused his face to colour, if only a little. Emeria opened her mouth to respond to the provocation but was cut off by a tall, dark haired woman who approached from behind Azurus.

    "Now, now, every weapon has its use. No single weapon is superior to the other. Although, preferences may vary," the woman said. There was a slight accent to her voice.

    "Mother!" Elizia exclaimed as she rushed to hug her.

    "Lady Sar''tara," Azurus said, nodding his head and keeping his gaze at his feet, though struggling noticeably. Sar''tara''s garments were not like those typical to noblewomen of Xenaria. Around her shoulders hung the fur of a great grizzly and her breasts were covered with a leather band made of deer skin. Regardless, it revealed more cleavage than necessary and everything down to her navel was completely exposed. Soft lines of her carved abdomen contracted and expanded with her graceful steps. Her breeches were a tight fit, revealing the shape of her well trained legs. Emeria elbowed Azurus in his side and his eyes snapped back to the ground.

    Sar''tara laughed. "Would you like an outfit similar to mine, Emma? It is good for mobility and makes bows and knives easier to use."

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    Emeria blushed. She didn''t like being teased but dared not say anything against the duchess, a woman she respected much like her own mother.

    "Come along now," Sar''tara said. "It is far past noon and the three of you haven''t had anything to eat yet, I''d wager." Azurus opened his mouth as if to protest but closed it. "No excuses now." Elizia and her mother left down the corridor, passing by a quad of soldiers with the eagle of House Serene on their cloaks.

    "She doesn''t miss a single detail," Azurus mumbled.

    "And neither do you, I suppose? Exactly what were you ogling at?" Emeria demanded.

    "I most certainly was not!" he protested, but she was already leaving. "Flames scald my soul. I''m a man, Emma. You can''t not expect me to look when she''s dressed like a¡ª"

    Emeria whipped around. "Like a what?" she glared. "She''s just as much my mother as Queen Dahlia. I don''t want to hear any ill of her!"

    "Forgive me, your highness. I over spoke."

    "And oversaw! Keep your eyes glued to the ground next time if you can''t look anywhere decent!" Emeria marched off. She made her way to the mess hall. A vast room with rows of benches and tables and chandeliers holding orange luminite hanging from above. Sounds of laughing soldiers and clacking tankards could be heard from the corridor outside the hall. Many were still sitting and eating. There was never a shortage of hungry bellies at the Arcaeus Peak garrison, whatever the time of day may be.

    Elizia was already seated at the edge of a long table and waved when she saw them arrive. She''d undone her smooth hair again, letting it hang over her right shoulder. "Took you two long enough," she said. "Want to compare maps after?"

    Emeria seated herself opposite her friend, her knight sitting beside her. "You''re just desperate to gain one victory after another, aren''t you?" she accused, eyes narrowing. She and Elizia had been competing with each other to see who could better draw a complete map of the fortess'' interior.

    "Of course. Force of habit. And besides, last we compared, you''d made greater progress than me. There''s no way I''m letting you come out on top!"

    "Why don''t we just have a duel? Do you think you can match me in that?"

    Elizia giggled behind closed lips. Her sweet face made it all the more insufferable. "And why exactly would I do that? Even Azurus has had difficulty against you in the past. I''ve already acknowledged that you''re a better swordsman than me but you can''t seem to accept who the better archer is."

    "You girls are still bickering about that..." Sar''tara said, stepping with purpose, one foot before the other like a prowling predator, and without noise whilst somehow holding three plates of food in two hands. "You two should act more like your age. And you young woman," she said, setting down each plate and then pulling on Elizia''s ear, "stop trying to start arguments."

    Elizia pouted and puffed her cheeks but that didn''t soften her mother''s glare in the slightest. "Mother, isn''t this too much food?" she asked, as if trying to change topics.

    "Nonsense. You''re all growing children. You need to eat. The garrison has more than enough food than can be had and it''s going to rot if no one eats it. Your father is a stubborn man when it comes to rationing provisions."

    "This is a frontier garrison though. Keeping the place stocked is a natural thing to do, no?" Azurus asked.

    "Natural? Yes. That it is," Sar''tara agreed. She plucked a gravy glazed carrot slice from her daughter''s plate and popped it in her mouth, audibly suckling on her index finger. "But we''re hardly under siege and it''d be far more sensible to keep non-perishable foods. Instead the fool insists on flaunting Metsiphon''s wealth and keeping this place stocked with exotic goods. Our funds could be better spent elsewhere. It''s spoiling the soldiers as well."

    "You can hardly blame me when the crown princess spends most of her time in the garrison," Elizia said, mimicking her father''s deep voice, causing the group to laugh.

    "And what is my daughter and the royal heir doing eating in the mess hall, Sar''tara?" a deeper voice asked. Elizia''s eyes snapped back to her plate at the sight of Duke Serene. Seeing her shrink like that caused Emeria to smirk.

    "Why mocking you of course, dear husband."

    "Sara we can''t¡ª"

    "Don''t call me that. How many times do I need to repeat that?"

    "Right, sorry. As I was saying¡ª"

    "You were saying nothing!" Sar''tara snapped. "You are disturbing her highness'' meal, isn''t that right Emma? Please leave."

    Kalin stood mouth agape, as if searching for something to say in return.

    "It''s quite alright, Your Grace," Emeria said. "I have no qualms with eating here. It hardly matters as long as mother doesn''t find out. And even if she does, I''ll take care of it. Promise."

    "Right. You heard the princess. Now get along. Your presence is spoiling the food," Sar''tara said as she made a shooing motion with her hands. Elizia had a hard time suppressing a smile. As daughter to the duke, she was Xenaria''s ''Second Princess'', as Emeria had no other siblings. The duke gave his daughter a hard look before he left, grumbling a retort about having spoiled her and her mother both.

    "Spoiling cabbage and Brussels sprouts..." Azurus muttered. Emeria dug her elbow into his ribs again.

    "Is there a problem with the food young man?" the duchess asked, and Azurus vigorously shook his head. "Good. Well I''ll be off then. Empire sappers are trying to build an unauthorized bridge at the narrow crossings of the Cinder River under cover of darkness and trees. Scouts have reported heavily armed footmen overseeing the operation. Those fools continue to poke and prod without ever learning a lesson. Your father has tasked me with driving them off and I''d just come by to say farewell. You two behave yourselves. Oh and Azurus, you are sixteen already by the lunar years of Elaina. Well into the age of adulthood where I''m from. As excellent a swordsman you may be, you need to show a little more backbone when taking part in conversations with women."

    Azurus'' flush deepened, Emeria and Elizia giggling.

    "Farewell lady Sar''tara. May your arrows soar high like the silver eagle of House Serene and rain fear into the hearts of your enemies from the sky above," Emeria said.

    "Farewell to you as well, Emeria Lakris, future shield and guiding hand of Xenaria."

    "Come home soon mother!" Elizia chimed in.

    "As soon as I can, child," Sar''tara said as she rose from the table. She pressed a kiss to Elizia''s forehead and then Emeria''s as well before walking away.

    "Sho...mapsh?" Elizia asked after a short period of time, mouth full of food.

    Emeria shook her head and sighed. "Fine. Maps."

 Chapter 39: A Good Mother (Volume 2, Chapter 2)

    <u>Chapter 2 - A Good Mother</u>

    "Should I tie the dagger belt for you?" Kalin asked.

    "Is it going to slip and roll down my thighs again? Seems to happen often after all. First my belt, then my trousers¡­"

    "It might¡­" Kalin admitted with a sly smile. His dismay showed in an unbefitting pout as Sar''tara did her own belt.

    "You can unfasten it when I return," she said, sliding her hands along his broad shoulders and stopping just behind his neck. She stared into his eyes, ignoring the loose sheets of paper blown to the floor by the open window behind him.

    "You''re amazing," he whispered.

    "How so?" she asked, leaning, their lips almost touching.

    Kalin pulled away. "I''ll show you how when you come back."

    Sar''tara shook her head. She pinned a dark grey soldier''s cloak around her neck with a silver eagle pin. The shade-wisp flower at the corner of Kalin''s desk had its petals closed. Sar''tara nudged the pot to the side and half sat on the table, crossing her arms. She stared at a sheet of paper before her feet. "More people bearing a raven tattoo on their bodies have been captured in Metsiphon, hmm? When will they stop bothering?"

    "Never. Its criminal nature to continue prodding until they see an opening," Kalin said, closing the window. "I''d have never guessed my extended family members to be working with street guilds to undermine my authority. Especially not those from Exaltyron''s Impoverished District. I''m glad you caught them early on. Else Metsiphon may have still been plagued by them."

    Sar''tara nodded, kneeling down to pick up the fallen sheets. Others bearing the Serene name along with some minor nobles had once schemed to bring ruin to Kalin and his city while he was busy at Arcaeus. Sar''tara had caught wind of this while resting at Metsiphon with a baby Elizia, ordering a swift end to their operations, among which were included the trading of narcotics, corruption, and human trafficking. Kalin had most of the perpetrators executed upon returning to the city.

    "Sar''tara, why is it you insist on berating me before the children?" he asked while she organized the papers in her hand.

    "Because it''s amusing. Why do you keep calling me Sara when I explicitly forbade it?"

    "It slips out. And¡ª"

    "Slips out? Your own wife''s name slips your memory?" she scowled.

    "That isn¡¯t¡­ I''ve always wanted a different way of saying your name. You know, as in a way only I get to call you and no one else."

    She thought of something harsh to say but lost the will when looking into his sincere woodland eyes. Specs of color formed on his face. Why was he mentioning this now, after so many years together? "Tara. It''s what my sisters used to call me sometimes," she mumbled. Her beautiful sisters and past family. Now, just a memory.

    "Tara¡­"

    She blushed. Hearing someone call her that after so long was a strange comfort. Though, it brought back a pang of pain she still hadn''t overcome. "I wish there were more I could have done for Dahlia," she said, changing topics. "With the capital''s Impoverished District and all."

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    "Her majesty wasn''t the first to try and fail against them. Many a monarch have tried to improve the district since the fall of High House Zz''tai."

    Sar''tara mumbled her agreement. "Anything important I should know for the mission?"

    "Be wary, as always. The Empire''s continued to harass us even after the fall of Kazir. They hardly scheme these days. But still¡­"

    "Almost as if they''re testing the waters. The eastern lands are thinning as Tarmia absorbs them. This so called War God will turn his eyes on us soon," Sar''tara said, eyes passing over the edges of the world map beneath every loose paper. She closed her eyes as Kalin brushed aside a loose strand of her hair, callused fingertips tickling her ear. "It wouldn''t hurt to leave a little late," she whispered, slowly undoing the belt she''d already tied.

    "Probably not. But you''ve asked your unit to prepare well before dawn, no? Lieutenant Faren will be knocking on the door at any moment." Kalin sat down behind his desk. He opened an empty drawer and raised an eyebrow. "No extra paperwork?"

    "I''ve taken care of mostly everything," she smiled.

    "Even the matters regarding the Temple of Trillia?"

    "Yes." The Trillian faith was rapidly growing within Xenaria. It had been introduced around twelve years back. Troubling rumors followed after. Rumors of the Temple''s leaders having ties to the Astral Union. "One day¡­" she breathed, looking at the clear sky through the window. Kalin held her hand. "Fifteen years. I hardly care about vengeance anymore."

    She knew those words to be false. Knew Kalin knew them to be false. She often spent long hours of the night studying dust caked records of the Thousand Sun City, searching for hints of any sort of weakness. Any cracks in its architecture that could be exploited. There were multiple points from which an attack could have been launched, assuming this was the same city of centuries past. The city was now much larger and greater fortified than what ancient crumbling parchment showed. "I just want to see Elizia grow into a strong and beautiful woman," Sar''tara said. One free of all my enemies. Sar''tara squeezed back her tears, recalling her own Mother''s words. She wished to gift her own daughter the life of freedom Ny''Danis had wished for her.

    "As do I," Kalin said, smiling, reassuring her wavering heart.

    The nightmares didn''t hurt as they used to. They hardly appeared now. She had a happy life here. One free from most worries, save for her duties as a duchess and a soldier. But the nightmares ¡ªwhen they did come¡ª served as a burning reminder like an uncured disease. She was convinced that they wouldn''t end until her fallen family was avenged.

    "Have I been a good mother, Kalin?"

    "You''ve been a wonderful mother. And the best wife a man could ask for."

    "Mm." She ran a thumb across the edge of her eyes. "That reminds me," Sar''tara began, changing topics again, "El is smart. But will a woman be accepted as the future ruler of House Serene? She will have to marry one day to carry the lineage. Won''t she be changing her family name?"

    "It isn''t unheard of for a man to change his name if the family he is marrying into is prestigious enough. But if you insist¡­"

    "Insist on what?"

    Kalin turned his head away. "Another child," he mumbled.

    Sar''tara''s eyes narrowed, a smirk touching her lips. "I recall you asking something similar two years after Elizia was born."

    "You declined then, and so I hadn''t asked again¡­"

    "Because I wasn''t aware of how painful childbirth could be. What if it''s another girl?"

    "Then that''s just how things will have played out. Wait. You''re¡­interested?"

    "Maybe," she replied. Kalin twiddled his thumbs and avoided eye contact as if he were a young man and not past the age of forty. "It''s probably necessary. El hasn''t the slightest interest in boys. At least our future queen has ensnared the young knight, timid though he may be."

    "Timid? Azurus? The boy''s likely to become one of the greatest swordsmen in the realm following myself and Sir Aegis. And probably Lord Coraine as well."

    "And Rask."

    "No. He''s bested Rask five times in a row already."

    Sar''tara raised an eyebrow. "And yet he follows Emeria like a hapless puppy."

    "There are reasons for that," Kalin said, leaning back in his chair. "Go now. The faster you leave, the faster you will return."

    "And the faster we can get to making a child?" Sar''tara asked, hoping to see his flustered expression. He scowled and made shooing motions. She laughed on her way out. Faren was rounding the corner of the corridor just as she left Kalin''s office. Sar''tara walked past her second in command, flicking him on the forehead. "Ever the punctual one eh, Faren?"

 Chapter 40: Queen (Volume 2, Chapter 3)

    <u>Chapter 3 - Queen</u>

    Dahlia paced back and forth in her chambers, dark green eyes flitting from side to side in their hapless search for answers to her mental ails. Her similar colored gown glided about, matching her movements, gold trims grazing a lushly carpeted floor. Out of habit, she began biting her nails ¡ªsomething she often did as a child when worried or anxious. A habit she had never grown out of. Dawn break sunlight pierced the room and reflected from half open silk drapes. Annoyed, Dahlia opened them fully, along with the window, and stepped outside onto the balcony. She breathed in the morning breeze as it whispered through her golden locks. The royal palace was perched atop a plateau, allowing for a scenic view of Xenaria''s capital, Exaltyron. Some weighing pressure was relieved from her mind, thumbnail though still pinched between her teeth.

    Arms slid around her waist and lips pressed against her neck. "Worried about the Empire''s emissary?" a husked voice asked. Dahlia nodded. Tarmia was to send diplomats to negotiate a halt in their repeated aggressions and she had no clue as to how she should respond. Half of her court was split between wanting peace while the other half demanded war. Loss of resources were weighed against vengeance for lost lives. One wrong move and the ensuing ripples would return with the wrath of a landslide.

    The man fingered the strings to Dahlia''s gown. Strings he''d tied for her himself not a minute ago. "Maybe I could help alleviate some of those worries," he whispered.

    She turned around and swatted his hand away. Her gaze briefly wandered down to the sharp lines of his torso. He smiled at her and she gave him a stern look. "What are you still doing here, Adrian? If word gets out that the First Chancellor spends the night in the queen''s chambers, the court will be in an uproar. Everyone knows you''re in favor of ending the constant border skirmishes."

    "Then why not announce our marriage?"

    "I can''t do that yet," she said, chewing on an index finger nail now. "It could complicate things. And Emma wouldn''t understand. I don''t think she ever fully accepted her father''s death. Speaking of, is she on her way back to the city? I want her present at the meeting. As my heir, she needs to learn how these matters are settled."

    "I did send Sir Draumen about two cycles back. But Princess Emeria is as stubborn as they come. I''m sure she''ll come around to our relationship eventually. She is only fourteen, right? And¡­ Having spent so much time at Arcaeus Peak, I don''t think it''d be appropriate for her to attend a diplomatic meeting. She''s likely to share the same opinions as The Huntress, given how much she is treated like family there."

    Dahlia shook her head. Sar''tara had been more than just an older sister. As much as Dahlia wanted to claim the duchess a bad influence, she could not. "Sar''tara is headstrong, much like Lord Serene. I''m truthfully quite jealous of her. She is carefree about courtly affairs. A true silver eagle, unbound by anything. Though, I fear the distinct unladylike manner in which she oft conducts herself could end up rubbing off on Emma. I want her back here. Her studies have been halted for far too long."

    "I''m certain that a studious man like Lord Kalin has our esteemed First Princess studying at least some subjects of import."

    "And why might you be so against bringing my daughter to the Capital, Adrian Rinz?" Dahlia asked, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

    "So most of your spare time is focused on me and not her," he answered as he pressed his lips against hers. She didn''t push him back until a long moment had passed.

    "Enough of that now. Get dressed. It''s well past dawn."

    "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, feigning a serious attitude.

    She walked to the door of her chambers and poked her head out into the corridor, checking to see if the coast was clear as Adrian dressed. She closed it when certain no maids were yet stalking the halls. The chancellor wore a pendant with a three pointed flower around his neck. It seemed an odd ornament for a man to wear. "The pendant. Is it a memento of another woman?"

    Adrian laughed. "I didn''t take you to be the jealous type, Dahlia. No. This is a trillium flower. It is the mark of the Order of Trillia. Speaking of, have you given any consideration to adopting the faith? There are many benefits, including feelings of serenity and ascension. And you will truly come to understand the beauty of living in peace and harmony with your neighbors. It is the reason I am in favor of ending our conflict with the Empire."

    Dahlia''s thin brows furrowed. "This again? My answer is still no. I am content with following the Laws of the Eternal Flame." The Trillian faith had emerged a few decades before Dahlia''s time, though only gaining prominence within Xenaria in the last decade or so. They had grown into quite a large faction of late. She did not mind as the religion helped bring stability on most streets of her cities. But she also had a hard time understanding the faith. A faith based on worshipping a Goddess that was said to have descended during the War of Ashes. A faith of peace that worshipped a supposed war hero.

    "Dahlia, I know I''ve said this many times but the Laws of the Eternal Flame were written by House Zz''tai. Disciples of the Tortured Throne. Yes, they contain a moral code of sorts, but that was made to control people, not liberate them. And I''m certain most of the court will come around eventually. The Trillian faith is spreading fast. Your decision at the diplomatic meeting should be an easy one."

    There''d been something in the chancellor''s tone of voice, a hint of regretful restraint. "You struggled really hard not to label me a heretic right then, didn''t you? If you wish to liberate people, then they should be given the opportunity to decide for themselves." She bit her lower lip, very briefly doubting Adrian''s affection for her. "But I love you. And I won''t lie to you. I simply will not accept your Goddess as mine because of the political implications it could have. The court is fragile as it is and allowing another party of power to join the scene would upset the balance," Dahlia said.

    Very few people still followed the Laws of the Eternal Flame; a moral code followed by Xenarian royalty even after the demise of House Zz''tai. There were conflicting opinions regarding whether the High House had been corrupted or if they were as such from the beginning. Trillians believed the latter.

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    So did my ancestors, but they were the ones to write history after taking the throne for themselves.

    Regardless, Dahlia dared not visit a Shrine of Flames. There were none left in Illusterra that still stood in decent condition. But every single one still had a burning flame within. Fearing corruption, shrines were avoided like the plague. The immortal flames were thought to be a dark magic. Exaltyron''s Impoverished District was the by-product of a shrine. Dauntless criminals took up residence in the ruined houses surrounding the place, their influence slowly spreading with the passage of time. A blistering headache to every queen since a few centuries back.

    "I see¡­ I hadn''t thought of it like that," Adrian said, buttoning his burgundy colored coat. It paired well with his near to black wavy hair. Outlines of his chest became clear as he buttoned the tight fit to the base of his throat.

    Dahlia looked down, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She pulled open the door again. "Good. Now quickly get out of my room before my maids arrive." The First Chancellor turned around just as he passed through the doorway, smiling, expecting a goodbye kiss. Dahlia smiled back and closed the door in his face, keeping him hanging. She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back, one hand still on the knob.

    Over a year had passed since Adrian had begun subtle courting attempts. Dahlia had been wary at first, suspecting the man of trying to take advantage of her loneliness. She eventually gave in, seeing as how he always did his best for the Xenarian people and adhered to strict mannerisms when presenting himself in public. He wasn''t afraid to speak his mind during meetings, even if they conflicted with her opinions, and she admired that.

    Something of their secret relationship rekindled passions from her younger days. Memories of Madrivall''s boundless charm. His straight forward nature. His dauntless back, always ready to shield her when needed. Back then, she would slip away into the quiet hours of the night and sneak in to the Queen''s Guard quarters just to visit him. In comparison, Adrian was more daring, visiting the queen''s chambers himself, somehow avoiding the many servants and guards standing watch. Dahlia didn''t mind that. There was something exciting and juvenile about hiding from everyone. Though admittedly, there was a pang of guilt when thinking of how Emeria would react if she ever learned of her mother''s illicit relations.

    Dahlia glanced at a white wardrobe opposite her bed. Madrivall''s sword ¡ªthe heirloom of House Lakris¡ª lay beneath a neatly folded pile of his clothes. A magical Artifact called Wind''s Eye. It repelled any projectiles coming within two feet of the bearer. A fitting Artifact for royalty to aid in avoiding possible assassination attempts. It was Dahlia''s wedding gift to Madrivall.

    Don''t lament. Live happily and watch over our Emeria.

    She closed her eyes. Her heart throbbed, recalling his final words. "I am happy," she whispered. "I''ve found someone just like you. I know you won''t hate me for it. I can only hope Emma thinks the same."

    Vibrations rung along the length of Dahlia''s back as someone knocked on the door. She looked to the shadows in her room. They''d barely shifted since Adrian had left. Her maids weren''t supposed to arrive quite yet. She opened the door, expecting the First Chancellor to have returned. Instead, a white haired man barely a half inch taller than her stood in the doorway. His thick white mustache shifted as a slight frown settled on his face, deepening the already visible lines of old age upon it.

    "Your Majesty, were you expecting someone?"

    She sucked in a quick breath, realizing that she''d opened her door too quickly. Finral Lu?en, her grand chamberlain, was sharper than his looks would suggest. She glanced over his appearance without changing her plain expression, looking for any hints that would suggest Finral had seen Adrian on his way to her room. There was nothing of the sort. But the man''s dark green attire was fitted with wrinkles, suggesting that he''d hurried to see her. Dahlia pushed back against an inflating headache. There were very few reasons as to why her chamberlain would rush to meet her so early in the morning.

    "And you''re already dressed too," Finral noted.

    You''re already dressed without the aid of your maids is what that statement implied. Nothing passed over him. If she turned, he would notice the crude knots that Adrian had made when tying her dress. Knots that delicate female hands would never make.

    "But your hair is still rather unruly." Curious eyes looked past her, trying to find a person they suspected to be hidden within.

    "I woke up early is all," Dahlia quickly said. "A bit anxious regarding the Empire''s emissaries. I dressed myself to pass the time. Turned out to be quite a struggle."

    "Ah, understandable. Even this many years into your reign, nerves still affect you."

    "Had anyone else said those words, I''d take them to be an insult," Dahlia frowned, causing the old man to chuckle. "What are you here for, Finral? Something bothersome, I assume?"

    "Just here to deliver what arrived by message birds this morning. The Empire''s emissaries are a still a number of days out. You needn''t worry about that. Yet." He paused, seeing if she would scowl further, smiling when she did. "Jasim Galadin will be arriving at the city as expected. His iron supplies Duke Serene''s armory after all. We can expect him to be present at the meeting with the emissaries."

    "His voice will be useless," Dahlia said, biting her thumb nail. "He''s in favor of a continued war. It allows him to continue selling iron. What of the other High Houses?"

    "About that¡­ Lord Coraine has¡­ declined. The admiral''s response contained a very simple ''Sorry,'' and ''Theodore Coraine'' signed at the bottom."

    An expected response, but enraging nonetheless. Theodore was a man of unpredictable character. "Kalin and Sar''tara won''t come. They''ve lost many good men to the Empire''s aggressions. We can consider them favored towards a war or at least expecting large amounts in compensation or blood money. What of the Caranels?" House Caranel''s opinions would be one of the most valuable. They lorded over northern Xenaria, detached from most of the nation''s on goings. But their lands produced over a third of Xenaria''s grains. Any matter related to war would impact them directly. "Who leads the Caranels again?"

    "Mm. That would be the dessert of the messages I received. A bitter dessert though," Finral said, tugging at the ends of his curled mustache. "Another Caranel has turned up dead. The Lady Noreen Caranel this time. She was the current House Lord, I believe, after a string of assassinations. Given her personality, I thought her to be behind everything. All that remains is her ten year old son and his uncle, Agrienne Caranel. He is a bastard, but given the situation, he has assumed lordship since he is the only one old enough to do so. They won''t be attending due to the fragile state of their House. Doubtful they''d have ever made it in time anyway. Same with Lord Coraine. They responded rather late to your request for attendance."

    "Agrienne¡­" A terribly handsome man with an equally terrible personality. Dahlia had lost count of the times he''d tried courting her whilst also making moves on other women, maids and courtesans included. "He had always seemed the aloof and careless type. Ignorant even. I didn''t take him as the scheming kind."

    "Quite the surprise. He was the only Caranel who tended to venture out of northern Xenaria. One would consider him distanced from family politics. There is always the possibility that Lady Noreen died of natural causes. But¡­"

    "A strange circumstance. And strange circumstances require imaginative doubts," Dahlia said, repeating Finral''s mantra that he''d taught her when she was a child.

    The old man smiled. "Indeed. After all, imagination is a weapon. Fail to use it and you''ll soon find yourself in peril. I have nothing further to report. I''ll send the maids up to fix your hair and dress knots."

    Dahlia nodded. She watched the old man walk down the hall with his hands behind his back. Finral had an overly fond disposition toward philosophy. One that annoyed Dahlia often, though she sometimes found herself pondering on his words. She shut the door after he''d rounded a corner. What was it he''d once said? Those who write history oft do so at the behest of murderers.

    Dahlia sighed, focusing instead on what he''d just reported. Her eyebrows drew closer to each other. Did he say dress knots? Does he¡­? No. I''m just imagining things.

 Chapter 41: Death and Beauty (Volume 2, Chapter 4)

    <u>Chapter 4 - Death and Beauty</u>

    High Lord Agrienne Caranel looked on with stinging, sleepless eyes, pressing one hand against the back of his nephew, Agrathar''s head. The black haired boy had his arms around his uncle, weeping with his eyes shut. The poor child, Agrienne thought. To not even be allowed the chance to see his own mother as she was buried. Lady Noreen''s mutilated body was covered in a white sheet. A sight too gruesome for a mere ten year old boy. "It''s alright," Agrienne whispered. "I''ll protect you. I''ll make sure you grow strong."

    The coffin was closed and laid inside the pit. The boy''s head turned as undertakers shoveled spades of raw earth into the hole. He turned completely then, finally mustering the courage to see the remainder of the funeral through. Agrienne rested his hard hands upon Agrathar''s shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a tear to come out. Noreen had been a strong House leader. Cruel to some. But strong. Agrienne had learned much from her. Wished he could have learned more.

    But time was cruel. An overplayed hand. Then, Noreen Caranel was no longer.

    The grave, once filled, seemed so out of place to the rest in the yard. A mound of brown surrounded by green. Agrathar walked forth and picked out lingering dandelions that still stood despite the approaching winter. The hardy flowers of weeds were one of the few plants capable of surviving the harsher temperatures so far north. Agrienne looked around as his nephew placed several yellow flowers on the fresh dirt mound. Weeds infested the cemetery. They would soon cover Noreen''s grave as well.

    Only two of House Caranel remained. The family had fallen to themselves, plagued by their own desires for power, scheming against siblings, parents, and aunts and uncles. Noreen was the last of them. The one that had survived. The one that had managed to consolidate all power to herself and reorganize the Caranel demesne. A few years of silent murders and ill-mannered plots had decimated the noble House. Within a few months, Noreen''s sharp wit and forceful nature had re-established much of that lost reputation.

    But nothing is ever made to last. Some things, even less so than others. Agrienne looked down at his feet, recalling his sister''s sweet words. None would ever give him the time of day. The bastard of the family. The one with no stakes in the claims of power. The easygoing womanizer of House Caranel. None but his half-sister. And she was taken away in a single unfortunate night.

    A vicious bandit lying in wait. Noreen stepped out of the mansion for a walk through the surrounding hills. A half dozen stabs and twice that in slashes. Moonlight upon the red staining both dagger and sword. Agrienne gagged at the thought. At the image his mind had crafted when discovering her corpse. Her sapphire necklace had disappeared. Her earlobes, torn, matching blue earrings missing as if they''d been ripped away. "Why did you have to¡­?"

    Agrathar knelt before the mound, uttering silent prayers to Trillia. Cold wind rustled his hair. He turned around, deep orange eyes full of sorrow and anger. "Did you find him, uncle? Did you find the killer?"

    Agrienne sighed. Even a ten year old could harbor such cruel feelings. "No," was the reply, along with a shaking head. "Tracks were found heading south. We''ll get him, son. And your mother''s jewels which he stole. Come inside. You''ll catch a cold if you stay here any longer."

    The boy nodded and picked himself up. Dried salt water marred his cheeks alongside new wet lines. Agrienne allowed his nephew to walk ahead. He would become master of the House when he came of age. Until then, all responsibility belonged to Agrienne. The old stone mansion of House Caranel matched the bleak color of the sky. Shade offered by clouds had deepened since morning. Rain was imminent for some point in the day. A fortune that it hadn''t accompanied the weeping during the funeral. Agrienne''s lips thinned, spreading wide, cracking from excessive dryness as if to mimic the grey walls of the mansion. He was tired. A long, sleepless night along with extensive preparations for the funeral since dawn had drained him of all his strength. He hadn''t anything to eat or drink since the night before.

    Hardly had much of an appetite for that matter. Even he repulsed after seeing his precious half-sister''s miserable corpse.

    Agrienne followed Agrathar through the mansion''s backdoor. The surrounding gardens maintained little of their summer colors. Flowers had darkened and every breeze shook fragile petals, some falling. Their faint scent lingered, though more bitter than what once was. Servants led the boy away to his own room. Agrienne glanced back one last time at the Caranel graveyard. At tombstones sitting atop a low incline like grey trophies on a jaded green shelf. Then, he closed the door, licking his lips to ease their pain, tasting iron from the cracked spots.

    He tried hard not to look at the checkered flooring. Their smooth surface reflected light from palm sized white luminite stones embedded into the walls. In his exhaustion, they seemed to move about in a hypnotizing manner. He wanted to collapse right then. Just fall and lay asleep. Maids in brown tunics offered to take his maroon coat. He waved them aside, dragging his feet towards the main hall. He pulled himself up by the railings of the grand staircase.

    Agrathar had already reached the second floor. The boy glanced back and offered a pitying smile at his uncle''s exhaustion. Such a kind child. Agrienne returned the gesture, lips cracking further. He eventually made it to his own room, the farthest down the east hall. It was isolated from the other two dozen bedrooms of the mansion. Because he was a bastard. A nobody. Noreen had offered him a better room. He''d declined. He was sentimental about leaving the room in which he spent his childhood nights. It was smaller than the rest. More cozy, in a sense. A bed in one corner, its mattress blissfully soft and its frame, an intricately carved red oak. A night table beside it. A wider than normal wardrobe opposite the bed where all of his lavish shirts and coats were stored.

    Every coat had seen their own share of use, all of them succeeding in wooing multiple women to his arms. A stand with a gorgeous suit of armor which he''d never worn before. Its craftsmanship was that of Estraea. Something he just couldn''t resist buying when he''d been there. It had also been the place wherein he would meet the love of his life. A woman whose painted portrait hung from his wall.

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    Agrienne stared long and hard at the portrait, seeking solace in its beauty. In her beauty. He then walked to the window and looked out beyond the horizon. His own vague reflection caught him off guard. Dark spots beneath his eyes made him appear as a spectre. Threads of his shoulder length black hair hovered like ominous tendrils of malice. Frowning and grumbling, he brushed it with his hands, creating a split down the center. He licked his dried lips once more and pulled at his cheeks to stretch his tired face. She would appreciate this more. She always fancied handsome things, roses especially, not caring for their thorns. Agrienne''s gaze moved back towards the horizon. "Where are you¡­?"

    Sighing, he fell back on his bed, sinking into the soft mass. He wanted to end the day. But dinner was nigh and Agrathar would need him then. He couldn''t leave the boy to eat alone. Not on the same day of his mother''s death. Frustrated, he rolled over and sat upright. His hands found a small brown book on the night table, its cover bound by a worn leather lace. A diary. He removed the lace and brought the book to his face, inhaling deeply. Even after years, his beloved''s seductive scent still lingered.

    Agrienne opened the book. Every letter was written with a delicate majesty, each one a display of masterful calligraphy. He ignored it all. All of it save for three words; Lera Ignis Zz''tai. His fingers brushed upon those three words over and over as he imagined them caressing her smooth cheeks. They grazed through the many pages of the diary ¡ªhalf of them empty¡ª as he imagined running his hands through her lush brown hair.

    Agrienne knew it foolhardy to have fallen in love with a whore. But he couldn''t help himself. He bought her freedom. Took her to live in the Caranel estate, knowing she would be shunned just as he was growing up. She had been surprisingly resilient. But also distant. Her regal eyes always lingered beyond him. Beyond everything. They desired more. Deserved more. He knew she would leave one day. He just hadn''t expected it to have been so soon.

    Agrienne recalled the sting on his palms. The feeling of striking Lera over and over. Some thirteen or so years past, she''d come to bear a child. His child. A responsibility he''d been afraid of. He buried his head in his hands, regretting every second of that day. Yet, that hadn''t been the reason of her flight. It was because of her diary. Because he had discovered it. Before then, she was just Lera. A Zz''tai who''d been found was not long for the world. They were hunted still. Many continued to believe that they were Disciples of the Tortured Throne. It was stupid of her to keep a diary. One with her name in it at that. But she was a mere girl all alone in a wide world. Fearing death, Lera, pregnant, ran one night, disappearing just as the wind.

    A Zz''tai. A remnant of Xenaria''s former rulers. A link to the throne and all its power. All of that had slipped away because of a misstep. Agrienne lamented. She had never loved him. "I would have taken care of you. Why did you have to run?" He left the Caranel estate, chasing after her, never finding her. It would have been a simple task had his relatives agreed to help. But none would aid a bastard. "If only I''d held the reins of this House then," he mumbled.

    Agrienne set the book down and opened the drawer to his night table, revealing a necklace and two matching earrings. The wood beneath them was still slightly damp from when he had washed the jewelry earlier in the morning. He pulled out the necklace and held it up before him with both hands, moving them to fit his line of sight along with Lera''s portrait. She looked lovely, the blue gems complimenting her fair skin and brown hair perfectly. His hands grew tired after a while and he set the necklace back in the drawer.

    Time passed. Thunder rumbled. Rain began just as the sun was setting. Agrienne, delirious, looked up when a small knock came from behind his door.

    "My lord?" a soft voice inquired. "Dinner has been set. Would you prefer I bring it up?"

    "No," Agrienne replied as he stood, surprised at the rasped sound escaping his dry throat. He opened the door quickly, surprising the young maid. She gasped at his image, blushing and quickly stepping aside. Her thoughts clearly lingered on three nights before. She dusted off her brown tunic and held her hands behind her back, puffing out her more than adequate chest.

    Agrienne rolled his eyes. It wasn''t bad though, her brown hair especially appealing. Her clacking footsteps mimicked his heavy boots as they followed him down the grand staircase and to the dining hall. Agrathar was already seated at one end. The servants had prepared him well. His black hair had been neatly combed and his frilled white shirt made him seem every bit a nobleman''s son. His slumped posture was another story. And his eyes still held despair.

    Agrienne, instead of seating himself at the opposite end of the long table, sat closer to his nephew. Chandeliers of orange luminite spread a flame like glow throughout the room. Thunder rumbled yet and rain battered the windows. The maids brought out the food and set them on the table. One of them glanced at Agrienne. He nodded and gestured towards his nephew''s empty plate.

    The maid took hold of a knife. She bent over and sawed into the leg of a chicken. Once through, she placed the leg on Agrathar''s plate and helped him to a serving of bread and soup as well. The boy dug in, clearly hungry. The maid then began going through the remaining leg. Agrienne watched the motions of the knife as it moved back and forth, slicing into meat with a solemn swish, grease spilling out in thin dribbles. He swallowed back his nausea, recalling the moment of Noreen''s murder. He closed his eyes and covered them with one hand. The maid backed off and stood with her peers at one end of the room, waiting for her masters to finish their meal.

    "Uncle, will you not eat?" the boy asked after a while. Half his soup was already gone. The bread was left untouched and portions of the plump chicken leg, missing. All this without a single blemish around his mouth or on his shirt, causing Agrienne to question how long he''d been sitting with his eyes closed.

    "I will," he answered, poking at his own leg of chicken with a fork in un-interest. He looked back at his nephew. At his reddening complexion. At his widening eyes. Agrathar gagged and coughed. "Slow down," Agrienne said, offering a cup of wine.

    The boy frowned at the drink, likely having expected water. He continued to cough and took the drink in desperation, downing large swaths in a single second. He choked and fell off of his chair, red wine staining his white shirt. A deeper red rolled down his chin. The maids stood still, fidgeting. Agrathar looked up, eyes pleading for help. His hands reached up towards his uncle.

    Agrienne sighed. Now he''d really lost his appetite. His nephew fell flat against the checkered floor, blood more clearly visible upon the white tiles than the black. The body jerked before coming to a still.

    Rain battered the windows.

    Agrienne stood up, careful to avoid stepping on blood. He had already ruined a nice set of clothes the night before. He tucked in his chair and then Agrathar''s as well before turning to the maids. "Clean this up. Bury him when the weather eases."

    Another trophy upon the green shelf.

    Another maid rushed to the dining hall. The same one that had followed him there. Agrienne frowned. He hadn''t noticed her leave. "My lord! At the door. The¡­ um¡­ the baker''s daughter is here again."

    "Now? In the rain?"

    "Yes, my lord. Should I send her away?"

    "No. You can send her to my room," Agrienne responded, shaking his head. To have walked the half mile distance from the small town of Red Vine to the Caranel estate in such weather showed commitment. Commitment that was worth rewarding.

    The maid looked disappointed. She glanced at the corpse behind her master and gasped. Agrienne stepped before her line of vision, shielding her eyes from the terrible sight. She turned away and left shaking. He too left the dining room and dragged himself back to his chambers. He finally began stripping himself of his clothes and waited at the edge of his bed.

    Rain battered his window.

 Chapter 42: Eurales Eye (Volume 2, Chapter 5)

    <u>Chapter 5 - Eurale''s Eye</u>

    High Lord Theodore Coraine raised a gloved hand to shield his eyes from the glare of sunlight. He disembarked from The Salamander, the greatest Xenarian warship in his possession - his pride. A strong gust carrying with it the southern heat blazed past as if blown from the bellows of a forge. Golden dust grazed over his worn boots. He breathed in a familiar smell. That of sun dried fish. It smelled of the sea ¡ªonly stronger. The portside markets of Eurale''s Eye were teeming with people. Shopkeepers yelled out bargains whilst customers responded with counter offers.

    Theo stretched his limbs as his crew unloaded crates full of clinking goods; Bottles of black grape wine from the surrounds of Red Vine. Crates were handed off to shirtless workers bearing slave collars and they in turn took them to storehouses. Desert dwellers loved the rare drinks of the north, while Xenarian aristocracy enjoyed the date wines from the south, leaving Theodore to benefit as he held a monopoly over any goods entering and leaving Xenaria''s port cities.

    A group of four guards in white vests with loose white trousers marched towards the port and halted before him, each one pressing their free hands against their broad chests and lowering their shaved heads in greetings. Silver bangles decorated their taut upper arms. "Lord Coraine, his majesty has been waiting," the one at the front said, the golden rod spear in his hand seeming a match for the sun kissed sand at his feet.

    "So you say, but he''s only been waiting since my ship was spotted on the horizon, no?"

    The guard fidgeted. "Ah, well¡­"

    Theo laughed. "Read you like a ledger, didn''t I? Lead on then. Can''t keep the king waiting now can I?" The guard bowed and turned. Theo flinched at sunlight reflected off of the guardsman''s smooth and dark head. He wanted to head back to the ship and retrieve his hat but two from his escort were already marching ahead as two more waited to watch his rear. He clicked his tongue and carried on, using his hands to shield his eyes still. His dark green coat billowed behind with the long strides of his long legs.

    The people of the city paid little heed to the escort group. They hardly moved to make way. Everyone was rushing to clear the markets of the best goods before noon. A pleasant atmosphere and very different from Xenaria. Theo appreciated it more, feeling more human. Back at home, commoners, even those that admired him, avoided him like the plague in fear of disrespecting him, and those of slightly higher status did naught but bow and scrape. In Eurale, everyone was an equal save for those wearing slave collars. Many of the market goers wore these iron bands around their necks. The wealthier families of the city sent them out to conduct their shopping needs, fearing not for runaway slaves ¡ªfor even slaves were deserving of some respect and a degree of trust within the city. Most were treated better than some servants in Xenaria.

    All of this was made possible by the benevolence of King Agram, one of four leaders of the Illeyan Alliance. He had enjoyed multiple decades of rule and was a longstanding friend and trading partner of High House Coraine.

    Theo stroked his thin goatee as he tried to get a better look down the crowded streets of the desert city. Southerners, women included, were tall compared to the average Xenarian. Men most commonly dressed in long tunics, sporting great beards and either pointed hats or turbans. Women were covered from neck down in loose garments with the married or engaged from among them wearing thin translucent veils around the lower half of their faces.

    The city''s smell changed as Theo was led deeper inside towards the inner markets. Here, street vendors had little need for shouting. Their work drew all necessary customers. From colorful clothes and decorative rugs to food vendors roasting meat skewers on the very spot. The part of the city Theo enjoyed most. Beyond it lay the sand houses of the desert folk. And at Eurale''s center, Agram''s sand palace. Its golden walls surrounded an ancient stone tower named ''The Eye''. The Eye was once used as a lighthouse, back in a time when ships were small and could easily be swept away in the currents of the Aegis Basin. A boulder sized white luminite stone sat at its top most floor along with multiple mirrors that would be used to send flashes into the night sky. Now, the tower was nothing more than a landmark, though, the city was still known as Eurale''s Eye on official maps.

    The guards stopped before a wall of sand and stood on either side of Theo, lowering their heads. An iron gate creaked as collared men pulled it open. Theo, as was required, undid his sword belt and handed his twin cutlasses to one of the guards. He walked inside, glad to be under the flitting shade of a date palm orchard before Agram''s palace. Veiled women wearing colorful dresses stood at the ready, holding out refreshments ¡ªservants to the king and wives to his guards. Theo swept a sheen of sweat from beneath his chin. It was as if he were walking down the aisle of a wedding procession. Formal atmosheres just didn''t sit right with him.

    He strode between the lines of servants, following the path laid out by them. It lead further into the orchard rather than the palace. At the end of the line, Agram sat before a glass table, a spherical bottle filled with a deep amber liquid set before him. He stood at the sight of his guest, holding out his powerful arms. Even in his old age, he still maintained a regal appearance. The fading colors in his beard went well with the tight fitted grey robes that he wore. Theo smiled and embraced the old king. "Your majesty. It''s been far too long!"

    "Indeed," came a deep voiced reply. "A whole month. You come here too often, Theodore. Is it wise to leave your wife unattended to for such long stretches of time?"

    "Bah! Tilda is better at managing city affairs. She''s understanding. I''m a merchant at heart."

    "And what have you brought for me today?" Agram asked, taking a seat upon a cushioned chair.

    Theo pulled out a dark bottle from within his coat and placed it on the table. "Aged to a near century. Worth its weight in gold."

    Agram nodded his approval. "Should I have chalices brought?"

    "Nonsense! Men drink by the bottle!" The two laughed at the remark and popped open each other''s gifts before taking a hard drink. "Nothing''s better than something sweet after a long ride on the waves."

    Agram grunted. He snapped his fingers and servant women came to stand on either side of him and Theo. They held large feathered fans in hand and waved them back and forth with a patient consistence. Agram twirled the dark bottle around, staring at the line of liquid within swish about. His expression grew stern. "I wasn''t expecting you today. But now that you''re here, there are some matters I could use a friendly opinion on¡­"

    "Speak your mind, old friend," Theo smiled.

    "I''ve received consistent demands from this¡­" Agram leaned in, lowering his voice. "The Lord Sun of the Thousand Sun City. He''s been requesting his inquisitors enter Eurale, citing that no city is free of darkspawn. This started many years ago. I declined of course, because of your advice. But the messages have been growing threatening of late. The leaders of the Illeyan Alliance have allowed Union legions inside their cities. My own advisor is in favor, if only to keep the peace. In favor I say, but so much so to the point that raises suspicion. I''ve been king for more than half my age. I can see enough to suspect lying faces, but I also am wary of losing the trust of a faithful attendant."

    Theo nodded. "The Sun City won''t invade the desert. They can''t. Eurale is the farthest of the Alliance kingdoms from them. And they would leave their rears exposed to Duke Serene and the Empire. All this without taking into account the preparations for invading these heat ridden lands."

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    "A land invasion isn''t what worries me. There''s been a rise of a new faith recently. Trillians they call themselves," Agram said, taking note of Theo''s clicking tongue. "You''re well aware of them, I''m sure. They stem from your country, or so I''m told. By the looks, you don''t seem overly fond of them."

    Theo nodded.

    "Good. We''re on the same page. There''s been conflicts between those who pray to the Desolate God of Sands, Shuari, and the Trillians. Conflicts I fear may grow out of control. My advisor, Cass, has expressed her conversion to the Trillians. Their worshippers and preachers alike most appear to be able bodied men of lean appearance. Not muscles from work but hard training. The city is weakening. And ships from the Thousand Sun City only take a few days to arrive here."

    "And my own vessels take a full cycle of nine days to get from Qalydon to Eurale if currents are favorable¡­ What of the Fang of Eurale, Dhorjun, your admiral? The man seems capable from the few conversations I''ve shared with him over drinks. If he can stall long enough for me to arrive in the event of a seaborne assault¡­ Bring me the charts, Agram. I can sketch a defense plan right now."

    The king nodded. "Perhaps in my room. Too many eyes here."

    Theo grunted and stood. He wore an easygoing smile and stretched out his limbs. The fanning servants stepped to the side and cleared a passage for their master and his guest. Theo observed their veiled expressions. They dropped their gaze when he met their eyes. It was never a good sign when a king couldn''t trust his closest aides. Agram took a long detour through the orchard, making small talk, pretending to enjoy a walk with a friend beneath the blue sky. At all times, attendants bearing refreshments followed.

    Noon reared its head, the sun at its zenith, and the king at last entered his sand palace. An entry well timed, heat outside reaching scalding levels. Theo squinted, adjusting his eyes to the shade of indoors. He followed his friend to a well-furnished room before which Agram removed his leather sandals. Theo did the same, unlacing his boots. A shirtless servant stood guard by the gates, a shamshir at his waist. He picked up the footwear and placed them within cube carvings in the solid sand walls.

    "Have someone bring the nautical charts of our surroundings," Agram muttered.

    The servant nodded, striding down the corridor to pass the orders before returning to his post.

    Intricate wool rugs masked the flooring of the king''s chambers. The room was otherwise plain, a simple bed the likes of which could be found at any inn, and a wardrobe full of clothes. A shamshir and a shield hung from one of the walls whilst another held a lidless window carved into the sand. Theo took a seat at a small round table opposite of Agram. He felt the pockets of his coat, regretting not having carried the wine bottle with him.

    "Should I have further refreshments brought up?"

    "Mm. No. Better to not stare at maps under the influence," Theo said, running his finger along grains of sand on the table. The door to the room opened after a while and the servant let a red haired girl inside before closing the door behind her. She held a crate of papers in her hands and set them down on the table, standing to one side with her hands behind her back. Theo frowned, noticing the collar around her neck. Her pale skin was near equal to the color of her hair as if she''d spent too long a time under the sun. "Strange to see an Estraean so far south¡­" he commented.

    The girl shrugged, showing no intention of leaving from the private meeting. Her eyes held a distant pride, not matching the state of her shabby jerkin and dirt marred arms.

    "Eksa, can you leave us?" Agram asked.

    "No."

    Theo mouth quirked in amusement. He observed the king''s reaction, disappointed when there was none. "Then sit on a chair," Agram said, making no mention of the slave''s insolence. The girl smiled, promptly sitting with a straight back and nose to the air as if she held all authority in the room. "Where is Advisor Cass?" the king asked.

    "Off attending a prayer or something," Eksa replied, smirking. She had a clear distaste for the person in question. She began laying out the many charts on the table in an organized manner.

    Theo studied the girl. Wondered where that pride stemmed from. She looked to be around twelve. Maybe fourteen at most. Her round cheeks and nose were marked with small freckles. The length of flame on her head reached just below her shoulders. "A captured member of the Solsetur clan?" he mused.

    Eksa''s lips curled down. Her eyebrows came together. "Don¡¯t associate me with Ashlay the Ashen! I am not a Solsetur! That whore tried seducing my father once. I overheard the story from his sailors. Humph. They say she threw open the gates of Grace when the Empire invaded and they killed her anyway. Serve''s the Flaming coward right. We Rau¡ª I mean, real Estraeans are not cowards."

    Theo nodded thoughtfully, understanding Eksa''s pride. She explicitly refused to mention her family name or location but had given one of them up unintentionally. ''Sailors'' she said. The only Estraean sailors were the explorers of Cordia. Those that braved crossing icy waters into the ruined nation of Vyetrim in search of Artifacts and treasures from the ancient War of Ashes. She certainly has a sailor''s mouth¡­ "If you aren''t from Grace, how is it you ended up here as a slave?" Theo asked, curious.

    The girl turned away, facing the window with puffed cheeks. "I ran away from home," she mumbled. "I had no choice, okay? Mother only ever spoke of marrying me off to a wealthy family after father died in an expedition. They set me up with some Flame scorched brat from Grace who broke all my porcelain dolls and then laughed. So I broke his nose and then¡­ and then my mother had to pay for his medical fees. Which makes no Flaming sense! He broke my dolls! They slandered my mother and took me away to be disciplined in ''lady arts''. Whatever that means. So I ran."

    Theo resisted the urge to laugh. "And then you got captured by slave traders."

    "Yes," the girl said, turning back. "It isn''t funny! Stop smiling!" She looked to Agram as well for some sort of a command but the king''s lips were twitching also.

    Theo looked up at the ceiling and stroked his goatee. "Grace was it? A surprise Ashlay didn''t foresee her own death. Emperor Arzael hates despotic rulers. Well, a somewhat hypocritical stance to take if you ask me."

    Agram grunted in approval. "So? What do you make of the seas around here?"

    Theo let out a loud exhale and began studying the charts. The pages were crumbling around the edges. Some details weren''t clear, ink smudged and locations mislabelled. Eksa pulled her chair closer to his and bent over unnecessarily low, squinting at the papers, red hair spilling over her shoulders and on the table. "You''re a captain aren''t you?" she asked. "I can tell. You dress just like my father. Smell like salt too. This part here," Eksa began, pointing to a location a few miles out from shore, "is shallow water. The reefs are high. Avoid this place or the keel of your vessel may end up damaged or worse."

    "I''m aware," Theo commented, tugging his goatee.

    "Good! Now the waters here are generally safe, though during the latter half of the months, the tide may recede to dangerous levels," the girl said. "Farther south to the west of Eurale, whirlpools are said to form spontaneously. No one''s been there to confirm. I don''t advise going. There are rumors of a multi headed serpent down there. Around here," Eksa said, dragging her finger and smudging ink further, frowning, "is a good place to drop anchor if visiting shores a few miles out from Eurale. Good fishing spot I hear. And up there is a good place when visiting the island of Kovar. Or, given the state of winds, maybe around here is better? Depends on whether the island has docks. Which I think it does. I can''t really tell. These maps are so damn old." Eksa took out a few remaining pages that were left at the bottom of the crate she had brought. Fresh pages with fine, untorn edges. "I can''t confirm anything since I haven''t been on the waters of the Aegis Basin, but judging from these old maps, I think these new ones are accurate."

    It was Theo''s turn to frown. The girl had hidden newer charts as if raising tension for some big reveal. He nodded his approval at the newer works. Very detailed. The depth of the sea at certain areas had been labelled with near accurate measurements. The drawings had a riveting artistic aesthetic that made it pleasing to the eye. Each area was correctly labelled with handwriting that would put professional scribes and scholars to shame. In some ways, they were better than those of his own. "You have a skilled cartographer, Agram. I''d like to meet this person." Eksa squirmed in her chair at those words, the blush beneath her freckles flaring like hot coals. Theo raised both eyebrows. He turned the page in his hand. The blank side held a small signature at the bottom labelled ''Eksa v. R.'' "You drew these?"

    A nod.

    A girl her age? "Agram. How much for her freedom? This girl doesn''t deserve to be held down on dry land."

    The king sighed. "I''m afraid you''re a little late for that, Theodore. Dhorjun already bought her yesterday. He''ll be picking her up later in the evening."

    "You mean she was showing off the entire time!? I''ll pay double ¡ªno, triple!" Eksa was prideful for a reason. She knew her own supremacy. And displayed it well.

    "That''s a matter you would have to take up with my admiral. Now, what of a defense plan in the event of a¡­"

    Eksa''s eyes shot up. "Defense? Is someone attacking? Can I help? What kind of ships?"

    Theo, curious yet, glanced at Agram. He showed his approval of the flame haired girl. She was innocent of any involvement within Eurale''s religious factions. He explained the situation to her, wondering how far her talents stretched. She promptly formulated a half decent plan, Theo interrupting to make slight corrections. Never in his thirty-five years had he seen such a person so blessed in talent. Eksa was a monster. That was the only description Theo could think of that fit her well. How to poach this talent¡­

 Chapter 43: Eagles Descent (Volume 2, Chapter 6)

    <u>Chapter 6 - Eagle''s Descent</u>

    Blinding sunlight reflected off the lens of a Tarmian monocular. Sar''tara did not break her sight from it, back straight and gloved hands curled tight around her horse''s reins, not a hint of discomfort showing in her prideful position. She made sure the full breadth of her valor was evident to the one staring back at her. The wooden crossing Tarmia constructed was near complete. They worked on it in broad daylight now.

    The man with the monocular shouted something, causing every sapper to flee into the dense treeline that stretched no further than a hundred paces. A more heavily armed squad retreated with more poise. This squad wore dull iron pauldrons and breastplates and thick octagonal shields. They numbered less than a thousand and retreated without showing their backs.

    Sar''tara found their actions odd. The waters were running lower than normal this time of year, and the narrow crossing at this part of the Cinder River was far closer to a Xenarian outpost than it was to any significant Tarmian landmarks. The bridge was more likely to serve Xenaria than anyone else. Under normal circumstances, a narrow wooden crossing was of no concern. But the Cinder River acted as a border. Anyone constructing a bridge needed approval from both nations. And this particular bridge was being constructed under the supervision of an infantry squad. Everything was too curious to not investigate.

    "No matter how I look at it, it''s a trap," Faren said. "This bridge has little benefits to them, and they have a treeline at their rear with a number of sappers. They''re almost daring us to come showing themselves in daylight."

    "Strange¡­" Sar''tara agreed. Hers was a legion that''d swelled to five thousand riders over the years ¡ªmore than a fourth of Kalin''s total cavalry. Despite outnumbering the enemy, engaging a heavily armed squad with her lightly equipped horses could not be done hastily. "Faren, how far is the Empire''s nearest outpost from here?"

    "I cannot say, Captain. Fort Cayra, their nearest fort, is about thirty leagues from the Cinder''s banks."

    "Thirty¡­" Sar''tara squinted at the river, making a better examination of the bridge. It had a more complex structure than a simple bridge might. "What if our bridge is not a bridge?" she said aloud.

    "A dam, then? That would starve the Thousand Sun City of their freshwater source. How does that affect us?"

    "This land is on a slight decline compared to the opposite end of the Cinder River. It would flood our farms and maybe even our training grounds. Or, perhaps Tarmia has built a tunnel to move water toward their fortress." The enemy''s armor, however, was a troubling sign. Tarmia had only ever sent poorly equipped militia. It was a sign that their eastern efforts were shifting focus towards the west now. "Trap or not, we''re attacking," Sar''tara determined.

    "Do we take the right side of the bridge? If their dam is working even slightly, the horses will run through the water faster."

    "No," Sar''tara said. "That is¡­ expected I think. We take the left side." Sar''tara turned to address her soldiers. "We descend to stain these black rocks of the Cinder River with the blood of our enemies. Show them no quarter as they surely would show you none. Rain down your fury upon these fools that dare provoke us, but stay wary of the treeline. We will toast tonight in celebration of our enemy''s defeat. Vengeance for our fallen brothers!"

    The soldiers howled, their high pitched voices piercing the surrounding air. The Vashiri war cry resounded along the riverbank. Sar''tara had taught it to them. They were hesitant to learn it at first. Embarrassed even, thinking it bizarre. But they''d picked it up eventually. The voices of males differed vastly from those of her sisters. Something about it felt more feral, made her blood boil, and her heart drum.

    She dug her heels into her horse and spurred it onward, the descent down the hill adding to the already frightening speed of her cavalry. "Ignore the bridge!" she shouted. She pointed with her arm to her left and the bannerman riding behind her waved his flag in the same direction to relay the orders.

    Sar''tara let go of the reigns of her horse and nocked an arrow on her bow. Her eyes sought out the enemy leader, his armor distinguished from the rest with a cloth hanging over his breastplate, a red hand sewn into it. She drew back to her chin, breathing in the wind clashing with her skin and feeling the motions of her galloping horse, correcting her aim ever so slightly before releasing the bowstring as gracefully as she''d drawn it. The arrow found its mark through the cluster of bodies and shields, striking the leader of the battalion just beneath his throat where naught but a thin shirt of mail protected. It wasn''t enough to stop the arrow. Without their commander, the organized retreat began to crumble. Openings showed in their formation. An inexperienced battalion. Taking advantage of their rising panic, Sar''tara loosed one arrow after another to bring the rearguard of her enemies down, creating holes in their ranks through which her lances could easily puncture.

    She eyed the river to the bridge''s right, seeing that it was indeed shallower as expected. It is a dam. Wooden stakes were hidden in the water, something a cavalry charge would have fallen into if she''d went to the right of the dam. Construction wasn''t yet finished, though it appeared that way. Another ploy to make the dam seem feasible for crossing when it would never have supported the weight of a dozen horses and their riders. Such traps only caught mindless fools no brighter than animals. They would never work on The Huntress.

    The pace of the charge was cut greatly when the horses entered the channel, water splashing all around. Tarmia''s sappers returned from the treeline with crossbows in hand. Sar''tara smirked. Her men weren''t that easy to take down. The sappers were slow to form up and the treeline close. Sar''tara didn''t need to shout any order. Her unit was split between mounted archers and lancers. A volley of arrows soared overhead, falling into enemy lines and breaking their morale. Tarmia''s infantry were unharmed, but their crossbowmen dropped like flies, few surviving.

    That was all it took to break enemy morale. They began fleeing in complete disarray. Sar''tara picked off many until her horse was out of the water. Once across, she strapped her bow to her back and drew her curved sword. The cavalry caught up. Sar''tara howled louder than any other as her weapon hewed enemy soldiers from behind as if she were reaping wheat with a sickle. Links of chainmail shattered with every swing, sending iron rings and blood flying through air. Screams took flight not soon after.

    Xenarian cavalry crashed into enemy ranks. Bones were crushed beneath merciless hooves. Lance arms skewered through gaps in armor. Death was dealt by a trampling tide. A one sided massacre, and thus the battle was ended. Crippled and crawling survivors were executed without remorse. Hostage taking was not worth it. Not for border skirmishes. Mere peasants were sent to fight here, and unlike High House Galadin, High House Serene was not in the business of selling slaves.

    Sar''tara wiped away blood from her blade and placed it in its sheath. Her disciplined unit broke off into groups to survey the region while the remainder stripped enemy bodies of their thick ironware. Sar''tara chewed on one corner of her lips. Her eyes fell back on the dam. There was something unsettling about such an easy victory. Was it really just a simple trap meant for a Xenarian officer of note? Even then, Tarmia hadn''t tried any small schemes like this for years. The worse they''d done was try sneaking battalions across river, leading to endless skirmishes.

    "They must feel confident to throw this much free iron our way," Faren said. He turned over a blocky iron shield with the tip of his lance. Its surface was smooth and without engraving. Newly crafted and unmarred by any blade. "Seems their true armies are really about to shift their attention away from the east and to us now."

    "A storm awaits us," Sar''tara agreed. Much Xenarian blood had been spent in skirmishes over the years. Unless Dahlia managed to sign some form of a non-aggression pact in the upcoming meeting, a war would soon be knocking on the nation''s eastern borders. The soldiers of Arcaeus were eager to deliver a crushing defeat to the Empire so that they never again tried invading. But such a victory was never a guarantee. And Sar''tara still worried of the Union and their spreading influence over the people through religion. They wouldn''t sit idle while their two largest neighbors were at each other''s throats.

    "Something still doesn''t add up," Faren said. "There''s no trench to funnel water. Flooding our lands cannot have been their only purpose. They''d have sent more men to defend this ploy if it had."

    "Maybe we''re over imagining. Perhaps it was just a trap to catch a notable commander. A prelude of sorts to weaken us for the campaign to come? Survey the area till dusk, Faren. The treeline especially. Be thorough." Sar''tara crossed her arms, moving her head from one side to the next, continuing the search for something unseen. "Have the dam dismantled. Then return to camp and celebrate our little victory with the rest of your fellow soldiers. If there was nothing to it, then so be it. We return to the garrison at dawn."

    "Must we celebrate after even minor victories, Your Grace? It''s not good to spoil the men like this and it is a burden on our funds to spend so much on drinks. You''re always touting the Lord General for the way he manages provisions..."

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    Sar''tara glared at her second. She grabbed him by the ear, pulling hard enough to make him cry out and grip his mount''s reins to stop from falling off. "Now you listen here. I''ve said this before. It is a custom of the Vashiri peoples to celebrate at the end of a fight, no matter how trivial you may think them to be. We feast even at the end of a quarrel between our neighbours if the end result includes death. And we drink to honour not only our own but the enemy dead as well, no matter how vile the enemy. Funds are of trivial concern. I have an issue with how Kalin manages perishable provisions or how he spends excessively on exotic foods while there are people still starving in Metsiphon. Besides, the money I spend on drinks are purely from his purse¡­ Don''t tell him that," she quickly added.

    Sar''tara let go of Faren''s ear. "And it hardly spoils the men. For as long as I lead them, they will fight as if they were the last bastions of man against the Tortured Throne''s hordes. You asked me once, why I don''t wear more armour. Or more in general. Because it inspires the men to fight thrice as hard," she finished with a wink. In truth, her current outfit was what she felt most comfortable in.

    Faren blushed. "My lady, as the Duchess of Xenaria, I''d recommend you have a little more modesty."

    Sar''tara burst out laughing. "Ever the upright gentleman, Faren." She flicked his forehead again. "Help with dragging ironware over the river." He left, shaking his head. Sar''tara crossed the waters and returned to camp. She entered her tent and sat down on a chair, sighing as she did so. Her own mug of ale sat at the edge of the table before her. She took a swig while maintaining care so as to not spill any of it like men so often seemed to enjoy doing when drinking. Soft is the drink of these plains dwellers. Sweet and pleasant, but soft.

    Setting down her bow and quiver, Sar''tara agonized over maps of the surrounding areas set before her. The white cloth of her tent turned a light shade of orange as dusk approached. Time had passed faster than anticipated. Thundering hooves shook the ground as her survey squads returned to camp. She leaned back in her chair and held her mug out above her head, tongue sticking out. A final drop of sweetness touched the edge of her lips and rolled down her chin. She rolled her eyes at herself and wiped it away with a thumb, suckling on it.

    The laughter outside was slowly drowned out by her intense focus on regional maps. No matter how hard she thought or theorized, there was nothing that she could glean from them. She knew these lands as well as she''d once known the Papillion Forest. There was no specific answer as to why Tarmia had tried this ploy. Sure they crossed over now and then, threatening villages and farmlands. But someone had to have known that such a haphazard scheme would do little harm. "If the target is not the location, then what is it?" she murmured. Am I really overthinking? Maybe the enemy ordering this scheme is just really stupid. No. Kalin abided by a strict code of assuming the worst. Only by expecting the worst case scenario could you fail to be surprised by a clever ruse.

    "Perhaps they seek something of value," she mumbled. "Or have a different means by which to slay an officer¡­"

    Chills ran down her spine as her senses picked up a hidden threat. Her eyes searched for weapons within her tent.

    The bait was obvious. Too obvious. And the timing¡­

    There were no Tarmian forces of significant size for an assault. That left one unconsidered option. Assassins. Goosebumps formed on Sar''tara''s arms. Her wild instincts confirmed her suspicion. Shadows danced beyond her tent. The sun had set. She was already surrounded.

    She picked up her bow. She should have joined her soldiers. Should have laughed and drank with them. Instead, she found comfort in isolation, reminiscing about a distant past while staring at maps, imagining what it would have been like to explore the world with her sisters, what it would have been like to teach them everything she now knew, to see their reactions to everything once unknown to her.

    Isolating herself after a skirmish had become a habit. And habits, as all trained hunters knew, were exploitable. Celebrating is also a habit¡­ Flames. I made this mistake.

    Kalin frequently sent her out to remove trifling parties of Empire soldiers causing mischief near the border. He had full faith in her. And she never disappointed. For the better part of a decade, she consistently showed positive results, moving with precision and care, never exposing herself or her allies to foolish maneuvers. And all this time, there had been a predator hiding in the shadows, waiting, biding his time and studying her habits to ensure his success.

    Sar''tara''s realization came far too late. Fifteen years of victories earned with ease had addled her mind. Had allowed her to relax even though she was still on the field. Fifteen years without schemes or assassination attempts had slowly erased that extra layer of caution that Kalin always warned her to carry. She didn''t even place guards before her own tent. This plot had a Scorpion''s prints lain all over it.

    Sar''tara considered running outside to shout for help. That option was quickly removed. Her horse whinnied at the appearance of strangers outside. Its voice was suddenly cut off, the heavy thud of a collapsing object following after. Her beloved horse had been slain to prevent alerting her soldiers. Enraged, Sar''tara dropped her bow and drew both dagger and sword. She opened her mouth to scream the Vashiri war cry. An arrow flew threw her tent flaps and struck her thigh. A gasp escaped her parted lips instead. She dropped to one knee.

    Cloth tore behind her as hooked swords ripped into her tent. She tried screaming again but was kicked in the back. She fell forward, dropping her weapons. The arrow in her thigh went through her flesh and came out the other side. Agony embraced her as did the warmth of her own blood.

    "Look at you," said a man, his voice heavy and thick with the Tarmian accent. A voice she hadn''t heard in over fifteen years. "The Huntress. Now, nothing more than prey. Your wings are gone, oh Queen of Eagles. And the Silver Eagle, Xenaria''s Shining General, isn''t here to save you today."

    Sar''tara forced herself up with her arms, gritting her teeth. Black boots stood a foot away from her. The man wearing them had his hair wrapped around his neck like a scarf. A scar ran through his lifeless white eyes. And a scorpion tattoo marked his carved bare torso. He held a shortbow in hand. Behind him were two others armed with hooked swords and scimitars. The same tattoo was painted on their bodies. "Kazir," Sar''tara hissed through her teeth.

    "Surprised? Wickar adapt, even to crippling wounds. I told you then, all those years ago. Even without my eyes, I can still see. Sound and smell are enough for me to imagine what lays before my feet. And you drew your blades so loudly in your anger, painting a most clear picture for me." Kazir turned his back to her, sighing. "Odd isn¡¯t it, how we fail to use all the power we have at our fingertips when we aren''t met with a challenge worthy enough to warrant it? When I had eyes, I didn''t give as much value to my hearing or my sense of smell. I now know of their true value. It''s the same for you isn''t it?" He squatted down, lowering himself to her level. "I''ll bet you haven''t used half of what you know in years. So much talent, and it''s all been wasting away. Peace is a drug that addles the mind."

    Sar''tara could only glare. Kazir cupped his chin in his hands and tilted his head, smiling as if imagining what it was she were doing. She clutched a fist full of grass and grit her teeth in an attempt to push herself up to one knee. The assassins behind Kazir shifted their feet. She would never be given a chance to retaliate. But still¡­ Sar''tara couldn''t allow herself to fall here. There was still so much to teach Elizia, so much more time to spend with Kalin. She pled silently for a saviour. Thousands of soft voices responded. Voices of¡­ the very blades of grass on the ground in her tent she thought. In a desperate attempt, she tried reaching out to them. It drained her of her already waning strength. Have I lost so much blood already?

    Kazir reached out and rested his callused hand on her head, gently stroking her braid before slamming her face into the ground. Sar''tara grunted, her connection with whatever voices she''d heard now severed. She smelled iron in her nose. "If you are to blame someone," Kazir said, "then blame Kalin for taking my eyes. How I would''ve enjoyed seeing his face writhed in agony. I will have to settle for a description from our spies. Enslaving you would have been ideal but by the sound of your weakening heart, it seems that won''t be possible. Know this before you wither, flower of the forest. Thus is the debt repaid with interest attached. Kalin took my eyes. So I will claim his heart. I didn''t know I still had a shred of honor left in me back then. I am certain, however, that none now remains."

    Sar''tara closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the ground. Her tears would not stop flowing. Tears of regret. Regret of a failed vengeance, of a neglectful soldier, of an abandoning mother and wife. Elizia. Kalin. I''m sorry¡­

    Iron bit into Sar''tara''s back. She grit her teeth as a cruelty was carved into her. Some manner of a message was cut into her body. The Scorpions then left as silently as they''d arrived. Divine blood flowed over the ground. It sank into the soil beneath. Blades of grass wilted in despair. The last of the forest kin had been felled. The last daughter of the forest deity, Ny''Danis, dying.

    Marvelous flowers grew above the stained ground. Flowers that once only existed in the now burnt fields known as Alcor''s Ashes. Their glowing petals shone bright, marking the spot where Sar''tara breathed her last breaths. None now lived to remember the deity, Ny''Danis. But her blood lived on in another. One last person carried the blood and will of the Forest''s Mother.

    Elizia.

    Sar''tara''s consciousness faded to oblivion.

    ***

    "Master, are you certain we shouldn''t be killing her?" asked Iskra, one of the Wickar within Kazir''s inner circle.

    Kazir grunted as he pulled a hood over his head. The edges of his face itched. He no longer shaved often, now that his eyes were gone. "The serpents of the Red Desert aren''t only known for their ferocity," Kazir said. "Giant though they may be, their most feared trait is their poison."

    "You mean the Decade''s Curse?" asked Samlan, the second assassin with the group. "A banned toxin costing fortunes for a single vial found in black markets."

    Kazir kept silent as his men jumped from shadow to shadow, with him following the sounds of their barely audible footsteps. They finally broke into a full sprint. He assumed them to now be outside the vicinity of the Xenarian camp. "To this day, since its discovery centuries ago, the ten year poison has no known antidote. It paralyzes a person and slows their heart, quickly shutting down their body and making them seem dead. Of course, without food and water, they die quickly, but kept sustained, they will live for ten years in a vegetative, unconscious state until the poison at last claims them. This is as much as Kalin deserves."

    Fifteen years Kazir had lived without eyes. Fifteen years surrounded ¡ªtortured by eternal darkness, with many more years awaiting. His will had come close to breaking so many a time. But the resilience of a Wickar triumphed. He''d slowly forced himself to adapt to his new situation, heightening the use of his remaining senses to the max, all while plotting what would cause Kalin the most pain.

    This was the answer Kazir had come to. To put Sar''tara into a ten year long slumber while Kalin could do nothing but watch, slowly crushing his spirit. Slowly breaking him until Xenaria was left without a bastion.

    Well, it was either that or he would assume her dead and bury her alive.

 Chapter 44: Cold Tidings (Volume 2, Chapter 7)

    <u>Chapter 7 - Cold Tidings</u>

    "At least I''m still ahead in something." Emeria tipped her nose to the air. Her own map of Arcaeus Peak''s interior was slightly nearer to completion than Elizia''s.

    "Yes. But only by one room and a hallway by the looks," Radis said. Emeria gave him a knowing scowl. Radis Draumen was the Queen''s Guard''s ¡ªor Lotus Knights as they were more commonly known¡ª second in command. He''d been sent to the garrison to escort Emeria back to the capital city of Exaltyron.

    "I''ll catch up in no time," Elizia said. Her tone was all confidence. "You''ll come back soon right? Mother is sure to have stories for us when she returns!"

    "Radis, can''t I stay a few more days?" Emeria pleaded. She put on her best pout that''d worked to sway the man a dozen times before. "Please?"

    "Your highness, I''ve already been here for several days. Your mother ordered me to bring you home in time for a diplomatic meeting that she wanted you to attend. It''s already too late for that and I''m sure she''ll have my hide for it."

    "It''s okay. I''ll keep you out of trouble." Emeria bit her thumbnail. "It just isn''t fair. As soon as Lady Sar''tara is out of the garrison, Lord Serene decides to send me home. I know I was summoned a while ago and all but it''s hardly the first time I''ve ignored a summons."

    The knight shook his head.

    Drat! "You promise you won''t cheat on the maps while I''m gone, right El?"

    "Of course not. On my honour as the first born of High House Serene, I solemnly swear not to cheat," Elizia said with a straight face, right fist upon her breast. Her lips twitched and she burst out laughing a moment later, Emeria laughing with her.

    Emeria flung her lush royal blue cloak around her shoulders, pinning it with a silver eagle brooch. She checked the rapier hanging from her belt as she turned to leave Elizia''s chambers. It was mid-harvest and though daylight hours brought mild temperatures, nights were oft accompanied by winter''s iron edge. Radis followed after her. He was dressed from neck down in polished dark plating. The lotus flower of High House Lakris was carved into the breastplate and a diamond shaped shield was attached to his left arm. A scar on his left cheek joined the other lines stretched along his face, dark cropped hair showing hints of grey at the sides. He had been Azurus'' mentor for a time, and had also humored the former king''s request in teaching a then seven year old Emeria how to swing a sword.

    Lord Serene was waiting for them at the gates of the garrison with an escort group of a few dozen soldiers as well as a closed carriage for Emeria to ride in. She protested, stating that she could ride a horse, but the complaints ultimately fell on deaf ears. Azurus kept his large black horse trotting alongside the carriage at all times once the escort had descended the incline of Arcaeus Peak. He was also garbed in dark plates, though it was missing the diamond shield as well as the lotus crest. He was expected to join the ranks of Queen''s Guard knights at the age of nineteen ¡ªthe youngest in history.

    Emeria stared out her carriage window and admired the dauntless armor, its smooth polished surface void of any blemish. Her gaze trailed up his powerful neck, tracing the sharp angles of his smooth shaven face before meeting his eyes. He turned away almost instantly. "Say, what''re you getting me for my fifteenth birthday?" she asked. "It''s on the first day of winter. You didn''t forget, did you?"

    "No, of course not," Azurus said quickly.

    "So? What are you getting? You gave me a bunch of roses and lilac flowers last year. Flowers. What''s it going to be this year?" Emeria thought heard him grumble something. He was doing his best to avoid eye contact whilst she was speaking loud enough for surrounding members of the escort to hear her voice. The flowers had been pretty. Enough so to keep one in her hair until it''d withered. But every girl gets flowers for their birthday.

    "It would ruin the surprise, your highness, if I made mention of my gift now."

    She snorted. "Drop the formalities. You said something similar last year and your gift turned out to be a disappointment."

    "It will be different this year. I promise. I''d never forget your birthday, Emma."

    She saw his lips curl into a genuine smile. Some of the others amongst the escort muttered to each other and his face colored. He stole a glance towards her and instantly snapped back when he realized she was still staring at him. Emeria felt as if she could sink into his pale blue eyes. She put her hand to her cheek and continued making him uncomfortable until nightfall. The company halted their journey and made camp under an aged oak with a golden canopy. It stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the scattered formation of young deciduous trees surrounded by swaying brush.

    Emeria was glad to be using her legs again. She leapt off her seat, ignoring the steps of the carriage, high boots landing on roadside gravel with a crunch. She stalked off with a few familiar faces of Lord Serene''s escort in search of firewood. Radis shadowed her every step from a distance. She had half a mind to tell him off. Her deep blue cloak was near black in the fading light and she tried many times to crouch in the brush or hide behind a tree to lose him. The seasoned knight was not so easily fooled.

    Emeria eventually found Azurus'' dark figure hunched over a bush, examining something small in his hands. She glanced behind her to see a few of the escort soldiers stopping Radis in his tracks, allowing her some free time with the young squire.

    Azurus dropped whatever it was he was holding and gripped the hilt of his sword as she approached. He relaxed when he saw that it was her.

    Emeria beamed. "Always so serious. Am I that important to you?"

    "You know the answer to that, Emma."

    "I do. But I want to hear it from your mouth regardless," she whispered into his ear, kneeling beside him.

    "You are the most important thing in my life."

    "Thing¡­"

    "I didn''t mean it like that," he said, lips pouting.

    She knew. Emeria gave him a hard shove and he fell over, metal plates clinking loudly. She let herself fall on top of him, careful to avoid the sharp defensive points of the black armor and held her face inches above his. She could barely make out his blue eyes with her own shadow masking his handsome features. "Why is it I''m always the one making the moves? A girl has expectations. Why can''t you push me down like that?"

    "It wouldn''t be appropriate. And there''s our age difference to consider. There are some who would shun our relationship. I am just an orphan after all."

    "Excuses this. Excuses that. I''m not telling you to push me down in public. And a two year difference will mean nothing when I come of age in a few short years." Azurus opened his mouth to respond but closed it. She drifted through his eyes for a long while. "I''m still waiting," Emeria whispered, slightly annoyed that he still didn''t get the hint. He finally pulled her closer, gloved hand to the back of her head, and her lips pressed against his. They rolled over until she was beneath him, his hands pinning her wrists against the dirt. The dark armor he wore was cold to the touch. Emeria tilted her head away as he kissed her jaw. "Better," she whispered, briefly fingering the straps to his armor. "Let''s return to camp before Radis starts cutting down trees looking for me." He pulled away and she ran a hand through his hair. "What were you looking at before I got here?" she asked.

    "Berries. I can''t tell if they''re edible or poisonous in the dark. I was going to bring them back to camp." Emeria looked over to the nearby bushes and found that they were filled with what appeared to be wild blueberries. She unpinned her cloak and began picking them one by one, using the cloak as a makeshift bag. "Aren''t you cold without that?" Azurus asked.

    "No. Nothing feels cold with you at my side." She blushed as the words escaped her mouth, realizing how silly of a line it was. Goosebumps formed beneath her sleeves with the passing of a chill breeze. She shivered. The young knight removed his own dark grey cloak and wrapped it around her. It smelled of freshly oiled metal but she didn''t mind.

    The two of them carried the large bundle of berries in her cloak back to the encampment. Radis was walking back and forth. He pulled Azurus to the side and gave him an earful. The soldiers from amongst the escort teased with improper comments. Most were from commoner families of cities. They lacked knowledge of the court, and thus thought nothing of Emeria''s relationship with Azurus. She opened her bundled cloak and held one of the berries to the campfire. "Well that''s a shame. They''re elderberries."

    "So it would seem," Radis said as he sat down beside her. Was he frowning or were those lines of age? "Your highness, might I have a word?"

    "If this is about Azurus and I, I will¡ª"

    "It isn''t. Well, it sort of is. My main cause for concern is the lack of respect these soldiers show you. And me for that matter. This isn''t how an escort of Queen''s Guard would behave. I was under the impression that Duke Kalin''s soldiers are among the most disciplined in the realm."

    "Casual treatment is not a lack of respect, Sir Draumen. They treat me as such because I asked it of them. I''ve lived at the garrison long enough to be on familiar terms with many." She lowered her voice. "I''ve also bested quite a few of them in a duel. They sort of have to listen to me unless they want the entire garrison to learn of their defeat at the hands of a fourteen year old girl." Though duels were all those were. Her rapier was little use against armored foes and tight formations ¡ªwhich was what the soldiers were trained for.

    "I ¡­see. I didn''t expect you to continue training in the sword. I was only entertaining Lord Madrivall''s wishes when you were just a child."

    "Well, I have father, you, and Commander Rask to thank. I wouldn''t be here otherwise."

    "And Azurus? Can you beat him too? That boy''s far beyond me now. A once in a lifetime talent. He''ll surpass Captain Aegis one day, no doubt."

    "We fought once when I was mad at him. I think he held back on me." Radis eyed her curiously. His expression was asking an obvious question. The same one the escort soldiers were pestering Azurus about. "Is there a problem with how my appointed knight treats me, Sir Draumen?"

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Not at all. House Draumen is at the bottom of the nobility ranks. I''m at my position because of my effort. The boy is talented but he is also an orphan. Just know that there may be unsavory obstacles standing between the two of you."

    "I''m sure mother will approve. And father would have too. Do you miss my father, Radis¡­? I wish he were still here. I miss hanging from his great beard and being tossed in the air like a ball," Emeria sighed. She rested her chin in one hand and stared at the crackling campfire.

    The man coughed. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I think you''re too old for such things. But yes. I miss Madrivall dearly as well. He was a good friend to me and always had my back when others from higher nobility questioned my status. A shame for such an honorable man and warrior to have fallen to disease."

    "At least his swordsmanship lives on in me!" Emeria cheered. "Say Sir Draumen, would you like to spar with me?" she announced loudly so that others within the camp could hear. A few of them whistled and stared expectantly at the aged knight.

    "I''m afraid I''ll have to decline," he smiled, eyes narrowed. "The usual excuses and all. I wouldn''t want you to get hurt and it wouldn''t do well for me to tire myself when I am charged with protecting you. Lots of unknown dangers at night. What I can do, however, is cook these elderberries along with the dried meat in my pack. Would that be suitable instead?"

    Emeria rolled her eyes. Her stomach growled at the same time. "Yes. That will be suitable, Sir Knight."

    ***

    The second day of travel brought with it thunder and rainfall. An unwelcome chill from the night afore lingered in the gathering mist blanketing the road. Azurus, wet hair matted against the sides of his head, continued to ride beside the carriage. There was something mesmerizing about watching droplets of water drip from his chin and roll down his armor plates. He didn''t utter a single word of complaint at either cold or rain. Emeria still wore his cloak. Her own smelled of elderberries and she was forced to make do without it. "Are you sure you don''t want your cloak back?" She asked, carriage window open.

    "You would be cold without it."

    "Aren''t you already cold and wet? I''m in a box if you haven''t noticed."

    "I''m fine, Emma. Really. Don''t worry about me."

    The convoy was suddenly ordered to stop. Emeria snapped up her hood and poked her head out the window. She couldn''t see very far in the heavy downpour.

    "Hold on, I''ll go ask Sir Draumen what the matter is," Azurus said. He galloped to the front. Emeria looked out the window at the other side of the carriage and managed to spot three hooded riders approaching them at fast speeds. They weren''t armed from what she could tell. They halted at the front of the convoy and spoke quick words to the escort lead. Emeria saw Radis nod his head at whatever message was being passed along. The messengers had come from the direction of Arcaeus Peak but they continued forward towards the capital city instead of turning back. Azurus reined in his horse to turn it around and quickly galloped back to the carriage. Radis shouted something after him but he seemed to ignore it. He halted by the carriage and yanked the door open, causing Emeria to almost fall out. "Sorry, it''s just¡­"

    "What?!" she glared, steadying herself.

    "Elizia and¡­" His voice was shaky as he spilled out the remainder of what he was saying in broken fragments. Emeria covered her open mouth with one hand. A sickness crawled through her insides. She jumped out of the carriage and onto Azurus'' mount, latching onto his cold armor, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He dug his heel into the beast and it went off running towards Arcaeus Peak. Radis galloped towards them, shouting still, but his words fell on deaf ears.

    Rainfall grew stronger. Lightning flashed in the skies. Following was a roar of thunder. Emeria''s thoughts weighed on every fibre of her being. Her arms grew weak, the cold of her dampened sleeves seeping into skin. "This can''t be true," she breathed. "Hurry Azurus. Please."

    "I know. I can''t believe it either."

    ***

    Elizia trudged through the soggy grounds within the garrison walls. Rain pelted her shoulders. It was night. Soldiers scrambled as news spread like wildfire, uncontained even by the downpour. Messengers ran in and out of the gates. Men prepared to set out in an attempt to hunt down any Tarmian they could find, soldier or civilian. For that was what they were ordered. Hate burned in their eyes. Their beloved duchess was dead.

    Elizia''s mother was dead.

    No one paid mind to that one extra hooded soldier wading through thickening mud, soaked trousers weighing down her steps more so than the multiple full quivers she held in one aching hand. Elizia''s insignificant tears were drowned by the weeping sky. She stumbled down the Peak''s decline, uncaring for her drenched clothes, hardly even shivering though her breath came out in puffs.

    She stopped before a long distance shooting range by the Greyscale Lake one arm numb from carrying such weight for so long. She at last dropped the many quivers. Half the arrows spilled out. The fletching upon them absorbed moisture, increasing their weight ever so slightly. A harsh wind threw back Elizia''s hood and rain battered her salt marred face, beating away at her tears as stained cloth is beaten against washboards. Each piercing droplet sent ice through her. It seemed like her grief was unwanted.

    So be it then.

    Elizia gave herself the same hateful rage the garrison''s soldiers were being consumed by. She screamed at the sky. "I''ll kill them! I''ll kill all of them!" Water filled her mouth as if to silence her. She clamped her teeth shut and seethed, letting rainwater spill out her mouth and roll down her chin just as a frothing rabid animal.

    She unstrapped her bow and nocked an arrow. Even through her rage filled eyes, even through the heavy downpour in the night and her cold numbed limbs, she could see the distant target boards and had full confidence in her ability to hit them. She drew back to her chin, stiff muscles flexing, and then fired, the twang barely audible with so many other noises. And then she drew again. And fired again.

    And then again.

    And again.

    And again.

    At some point, her back began to ache. Her fingertips and forearm skin had torn. At some point, even the rain had stopped. Elizia kept firing, shivering, breathing out clouds, and yet never missing a single shot.

    ***

    Emeria''s teeth chattered in the wind. Even with her knight''s thick grey cloak, the cold of the night was hard to bear. Azurus never once slowed his steed, its hoofs treading with less sound upon the water soaked ground. But he didn''t press it harder than it could go, knowing that it would only serve to lame the beast. Hoarfrost crested the edges of his armor. She clung to it tightly, but her hands were going numb without a source of heat. She could hardly feel each finger.

    They had ridden through an entire day of miserable weather. The clouds didn''t refrain until long past sundown, leaving behind the smell of moist soil to shroud the fields before them. The castle tips of Arcaeus Peak were barely visible through a lingering mist. Emeria sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs with ice. The insides of her boots were soaked. She wiggled her toes to make sure they still worked. She needed the warmth of a fire.

    But there were heavier thoughts weighing her mind. Elizia had just lost her mother. The duke had lost his beloved wife. And she had lost someone she sincerely looked up to. Lady Sar''tara was a woman of every soldier''s admiration. The garrison would be in a fragile state.

    Colder yet grew the night. The black horse neared Greyscale Lake. Emeria thought she heard a familiar sound ¡ªthe slight twang of a bowstring at the loosing of an arrow. The sound was overshadowed by horseshoes clopping against soggy soil. But it came again. The area to the right of the lake was made of flat and even land. It was used as a training area and sometimes as a long distance firing range for skilled archers. But there should not have been anyone training so late into the night. Regardless, the sound was repeated multiple times. From the corners of her eyes, Emeria saw the reflection of a flying projectile in the lake water as if a fish were leaping out to taste moonlight. It appeared shortly after the soft twang she occasionally heard. She searched wildly for the mystery archer until she at last spotted a figure firing arrow after arrow into the mist.

    "Azurus, stop! Turn to the right!" Emeria cried.

    He tugged the horse''s reins and steered it in the desired direction. The beast galloped forward, stopping half a dozen feet from the person. A figure with disheveled wet long hair loosed shaft after shaft, empty quivers lying at her feet. Dark liquid dripped from her hands. Emeria dismounted and ran over to the girl and hugged her from behind. "Elizia, stop. Your hands are torn. Any more and you could permanently damage them."

    "I don''t care," came a hoarse reply. She shrugged Emeria off and knocked another arrow.

    Emeria came to stand in front of her friend with her arms stretched out, barely noticing small glowing flowers beside her feet. "Stop it. El, look at me. Please stop." She couldn''t stop her eyes from watering. Sar''tara had been like a mother to her as well. She noticed Elizia''s face then. There were white lines along her cheeks where tears had dried. Her eyes had sunk into their sockets, red and drained of life. Emeria wondered just how long El had been crying for. All alone too. Her hollow expression said she hadn''t slept in a very long time.

    Elizia fell to her knees and stared at the grass. She began tearing them out, unknowingly killing the flowers around her as well. The glowing lights disappeared as soon as they were uprooted. "The state they found her in. Do you know?" the ailing girl asked. Emeria shook her head as Azurus came to stand beside her. They had only received word of Sar''tara''s passing. No description of how. "It was the Wickar assassins," Elizia said. "They killed her while the others were celebrating a victory. They found my mother lying face down, a poisoned arrow stuck in her thigh. The words ''Tarmia sends their regards'' were carved into her back." Elizia pressed her bloody palms against the ground. "I''ll Flaming kill them! I''ll kill every last one of them! I will burn the Empire to the ground!" Her rough voice slowly changed to desperation until she was wailing incoherently, weeping again.

    Emeria went down on both knees, ignoring the mud afflicting her clothes, and caressed Elizia''s head as she continued mumbling sayings of destruction. Azurus stood silent, head low and eyes heavy. Elizia''s rambling came to an eventual end. Her hands stopped moving and she fell forward into Emeria''s lap. She succumbed to fatigue and lay asleep.

    "We can''t leave her here in the cold. We''re still a few miles from the garrison," Azurus said. His voice croaked. He was trying not to cry himself.

    "Take her with you then. I''ll walk on foot."

    "In this weather? And there could be Silver Tails. We''re better off staying here. I have a tinder box in my pack. Stay by Elizia. I''ll look around for firewood."

    Emeria thought for a second and then agreed. There was no way for the three of them to get to the garrison on horseback. She removed the dark grey cloak and wrapped it around the other girl before laying Elizia''s head on her lap. She also tore a part of her sleeves and bandaged Elizia''s torn fingers. The black horse came to sit by them and Emeria leaned back against its body, grateful for its warmth. Over a half dozen empty quivers lay around. Azurus returned shortly after with arms full of thin sticks. They were arrows. Emeria gasped. "How many are there?"

    "Well over a hundred. This is all I could carry. Hardly any spare dry branches on these open plains. I''ll go get more once the fire starts to dim."

    Emeria wondered just how long Elizia had been here. She was practicing all alone as a way to express her emotions. Her fingers were torn and the muscles in her back had swollen from overuse. "How far are the targets?"

    "Some three hundred yards," Azurus said. "Maybe more. I can''t even see the targets from here in the dark. She has heaven sent talent that only Lady Sar''tara may have been able to replicate."

    Emeria caressed Elizia''s cheek. She recalled her ambition to surpass Elizia in archery and swordsmanship. Their petty arguments seemed so trivial now. It was hard to accept the duchess'' passing. She knew her pain didn''t hold a candle to what the duke and his daughter were feeling. But her chest felt as if it were being squeezed.

    Azurus managed to ignite the wood and the two of them sat in silence, fire crackling between them. They were both tired but neither had a desire to sleep. Something else burned within Emeria. Elizia''s words and hatred had been branded in her mind. The Empire wanted to send a message. Wanted to strike a chord within Xenaria''s heartland. And it had worked. She was angry. The disrespectful state that they''d left Lady Sar''tara in was an unforgivable crime. Emeria wanted revenge as well. If not during Queen Dahlia''s reign, then surely during her own. She vowed to declare war on Tarmia when she ascended the throne if her mother didn''t do it first.

    Elizia opened her eyes with dawn''s arrival, sniffling from both cold and sorrow. She hacked out mouthfuls of phlegm but was otherwise silent. Her stomach growled often. Azurus gave her what little provision he had. He allowed her and Emeria to ride the black horse back to the garrison and decided that he would go the rest of the way on foot instead.

    Fort Arcaeus was in chaos. There were soldiers running about everywhere, searching for Elizia. She had been missing for a while. They were ecstatic to see her and the royal heir arrive safely. Kalin came out running towards the fortress walls and Elizia ran towards him while crying. Many of the soldiers wept as well. Especially the ones from Sar''tara''s personal unit. They blamed themselves for the loss. A glorious flame within the people''s hearts snuffed out. A dark time for the soldiers and the people of Metsiphon.

 Chapter 45: Diplomacy (Volume 2, Chapter 8)

    <u>Chapter 8 - Diplomacy</u>

    Dahlia walked down a long corridor leading towards one of the palace''s many audience chambers. Accompanying her was the captain of the Queen''s Guard and elder brother to her late husband, Eildred Aegis. His heavy boots overshadowed the sounds of her own shoes. His daunting black armor shook with his long strides. A ready hand rested on the pommel of the longsword hanging at his waist.

    Dahlia breathed easy with the Thundersword at her side. The greatest swordsman in the realm. The cold of his iron plates was felt through his gaze by those unfamiliar to him, while the wall that was his towering figure sheltered all those it stood before. Dahlia smirked subconsciously, tilting her head ever upward in pride. Pride that she had in droves but often lost when deep in anxious thought. Eildred''s presence made her regal confidence not only easy to find, but easy to hold on to. She marched forward fearlessly, no longer worrying about the Empire''s emissaries. They would soon feel the ice of Eildred''s glare. Queen''s Guard rarely dressed in full armor when on palace grounds. But Dahlia had made an exception for today, wanting to show off her greatest warrior.

    More guards stood at the gates of the circular audience chamber. Dahlia acknowledged their presence as the rounded doors were opened for her. Her blonde locks flowed freely and the large sapphire embedded within the diadem on her head sparkled under white luminite stones that lined the sides of the audience chamber''s high, circular ceiling. She hid her hands within the sleeves of her amber dress, holding them together just above her waist. A large round table occupied the center of the room. Most of the seats were already filled. Dahlia''s own chair, slightly larger than the rest and cushioned with a deep red velvet, was placed opposite of the chamber''s gates. She took her place, her guard taking his, standing two feet behind her seat. To her right, the First Chancellor looked visibly disturbed. She was displaying Xenaria''s finest in a battle ready suit in what was supposed to be a peace meeting.

    Moments later, three of the Empire entered the chamber accompanied by more of the Queen''s Guard. Two of them appeared plain, wearing long white robes with a red hand sown near their heart. A red shawl was strapped across their chests and tied at the waist. The uniform of high ranking Tarmian officials. They walked on either side of the third person. A middle aged man with shoulder length black hair and a trimmed beard. His was a deep tan, rich like redwood. He wore a plain half-sleeved white shirt that carried stains of road dust along with dark breeches. Something similar to peasant''s garb. He had a fair face and his thin eyes spoke naught but innocence. Dahlia knew it to be a fa?ade. It would be foolhardy for the Empire to send an inexperienced man. She could see blisters on his palms from her position. A man well versed in sword arts no doubt, though he carried none at his waist.

    The man noticed her gaze and smiled. Dahlia''s jaw almost dropped. There was something pure and childlike in that expression. So much so that she doubted it was a fa?ade at all. At the same time, he tilted his hand to better expose the blisters. The gall! He was finding his situation amusing. He wasn''t the least bit threatened by her Guard. Her thumb moved towards her mouth. Eildred shuffled behind her and her hand snapped back towards the table. She took deep breaths to calm herself. Eildred was mindful of every detail. He knew her habits well and would not allow her to expose her anxiety.

    The emissaries stopped before their designated seats. The one in the middle offered a short and formal bow. "Idris Khan greets her majesty," he said before taking a seat.

    Dahlia could hide her emotions no longer. Both her eyebrows shot up. The Idris Khan? Tarmia''s God of War? This was no diplomat. Idris was said to have taken to the battlefields at the age of fifteen. A man rumored to be solely responsible for the creation of the Empire. Tarmia was only a mid-sized nation not twenty years ago. The officials at Idris'' sides seated themselves after him. They were clearly sent as mere aides. "Speak," Dahlia commanded, shifting in her seat but keeping her voice steady. Her words echoed through the chamber. "After so many years of aggression, the Empire seeks peace? Under what terms are we expected to accept such a ridiculous proposition?"

    "What proposition?" the Second Chancellor interrupted from Dahlia''s left. Marco Aurelin. A grey haired official who once had three sons serving under Duke Kalin. Two had been lost to Tarmia''s attacks. "Why humor this meeting, your majesty? After all the resources wasted, after all the blood spent, they suddenly think we would accept peace?" There were mutters and nods of approval from those in agreement.

    "My opinion aligns with that of Chancellor Marco," Jasim Galadin said, chair tucked further in to hide his gut. The lord of High House Galadin was the only one amongst the High Houses that had responded to the crown''s calls to be present at the meeting. "Peace is a far cry without an ocean of compensation."

    "I suppose you consider yourself an authority in matters concerning compensation, Lord Galadin?" Adrian suddenly said. "Or is it mere deranged people that cry upon the steps of Trillian temples and not families of dead iron miners? You stand to gain from a perpetual war. You supply the dukedom with your iron. I would implore you to maintain your silence."

    Jasim''s face twisted. "And how many lives has your peace loving war Goddess saved? Do you think my subjects don''t give their blood because the lot you of hide behind city walls? The passages of the mines are plagued by man sized rats and various species of imps and other darkspawn."

    "Yet you hardly hire adequate guards and pay grieved families nothing!" Adrian countered. "I will not be patronized by a man who treats his own crippled eldest son as if he were nothing more than a swine awaiting slaughter!"

    Jasim opened his mouth to respond but Dahlia spoke first. "Silence! Conduct yourselves civilly, or do not speak at all. I did not permit any of you to open your mouths. I am well aware of the losses that constant war has brought upon us. But to continue further will only result in further loss. If anyone has something to add after the diplomat''s words, then raise your hand." Scorched blood! These people are no better than children.

    Finral Lu?en raised his hand. The grand chamberlain was tasked with managing state finances, giving him some degree of authority over others. She nodded towards him to speak. "If I may, your majesty," he began, his elderly voice sounding sophisticated and scholarly, "I have kept tabs on every expense that has come out of the nation''s exchequer and used for defense purposes, whether that was for arms, relief funds for displaced peoples, or blood money to families of the fallen since you ascended the throne many years ago. I can list them out if it is asked of me, though I fear this meeting will persist well past dusk if I do. There are¡­ many pages." He pinched the ends of his white moustache and pushed forward a stack of papers with his other hand as if to prove his point.

    "Indeed, a man as meticulous as the Idris Khan would be well aware of the general cost his Empire''s aggression has costed us," Dahlia said. "And so I ask you again, emissary of Tarmia, what manner of compensation are you willing to offer in order for us to accept this proposition of yours?"

    "Compensation¡­" the War God echoed, kicking back his chair like a bored child and obliviously glancing at the dark ceiling. From where that brazen attitude stemmed, Dahlia couldn''t guess. Idris should have been well aware that no treaty would be signed unless Xenaria was provided ample compensation. Yet he stared off into emptiness as if he were an inanimate plant swaying in the storm winds within the audience chamber. He flashed his innocent smile again as his eyes glazed over every present Xenarian official and noble.

    Idris clicked his tongue. "I am conflicted, your majesty. Compensation is sure to be provided. But I came here with the expectations of signing a treaty. How am I expected to believe that any treaty will be honored when half your court wants peace and the other half wants war?" Idris'' eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. "I''ll be blunt. If we don''t reach an agreement today, I probably won''t bother to ever attack Xenaria. Because taking a nation that is fractured from within would be¡­ an all too simple a task. Though, I can''t make any promises for my colleagues. Not that any of them have half my warring talents."

    Dahlia began doubting Idris came to negotiate in the first place. Tight fists caused her nails to dig into her palms. She clenched her teeth behind what she assumed was a plain and emotionless expression. The officials erupted into a screaming match. Most of their anger was directed towards the emissaries. All the while the Tarmian diplomat wore his charming smile. His two aides bickered back and forth with the Xenarians. "SILENCE!" Dahlia cried. "Idris Khan, are you truly here on behalf of your Emperor?"

    "What do you think, Your Ma-jes-ty?"

    Adrian raised his hand. "If I may, Your Majesty, before this conversation takes a turn for the worst, why don''t we get back on the topic of compensation?"

    "Sure, why not," Idris said, while nonchalantly waving his hand. "Cayra. The garrison some thirty leagues from the Cinder River and her surrounding fertile lands. Ten thousand gold crowns in Xenarian weight every year for five years, and five magical Artifacts from my personal armory of her majesty''s choosing. That is my offer," he said with a yawn.

    The chamber was speechless. Such an unbelievable offer. Dahlia couldn''t refuse. But there had to be a hidden meaning. Court officials began muttering amongst themselves. Adrian looked to her in a pleading manner. He clutched his trillium pendant. Dahlia glanced towards the Second Chancellor. Even he was considering the offer. "Why?" she finally said.

    Adrian began tapping the table with a finger out of impatience.

    "Perhaps I should have taken my offer to Lord Serene instead," Idris mused. "Why? Because it isn''t interesting otherwise. The scales just aren''t balanced as it stands. I''m bored."

    "Then you truly aren''t here on behalf of the Emperor?" Idris did not respond. He was making a declaration of war. But Dahlia couldn''t respond in kind. It seemed as if the man decided to arrive at the heart of enemy territory on a whim. He was making such an absurd offer because he didn''t believe Xenaria to pose a challenge to him. To the man labelled a God of War, war was just a children''s game. He was the kind of person Dahlia despised most. Adrian was still tapping his finger. He thought peace could still be achieved. Most others were still whispering amongst themselves. They hadn''t been paying attention to the last words Idris had said.

    Dahlia found herself in a difficult position. She had no doubt that her court would be content if she accepted the offer. The problem was what came after. Tarmia would be looking for an excuse to start another war.

    She would not let that happen.

    She was aware of her many flaws. But being a pushover was not amongst them. She wanted to go on the offensive. Suddenly being gifted an Empire garrison located close to the border would make that easy. But the man she loved¡­ Adrian wouldn''t understand. "Six Artifacts," Dahlia at last declared. All attention was suddenly turned towards her.

    Idris shrugged. The number clearly didn''t matter. "Six it is then. Shall we put it on paper?"

    She was about to respond but the gates to the chamber suddenly swung open. One from the Queen''s Guard came running in all the way to her side. He whispered something in her ear. Dahlia''s eyes went wide and her face twisted in rage. "Take those men into custody immediately!" she shouted, pointing towards the Empire''s emissaries.

    Idris sighed aloud. He raised his hands to surrender. "Those Flaming scorpions¡­ Just couldn''t wait another day, could you, old friend?"

    ***

    Dahlia made her way down to the palace dungeons where her prisoners were being kept. She rubbed her sweat covered palms on the sides of her dress, keeping her eyes at her feet. The narrow passageway seemed to shrink with every breath, threatening to crush her under mounds of stone. She could hardly think straight. A firm hand squeezed her shoulder. She jumped and turned, staring at the emotionless eyes of Eildred Aegis. He looked just like Madrivall, only with cropped hair.

    "You''ve been standing still for a minute now."

    Eildred''s powerful voice vibrated against the walls on either side of her. Dahlia let herself relax. She nodded and continued forward. The dungeons were seldom used but as it was a part of the palace, the grand chamberlain ensured that it was well maintained. Members of the Queen''s Guard were stationed at every corner of the dungeon. Palace security was their responsibility while Exaltyron herself housed a garrison of some twelve thousand serving under the lotus regalia of High House Lakris.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Dahlia raised her dress above her ankles so that the hemming wouldn''t touch the stone floor as she descended down the stairs. "Do you think he''s the real thing?" she asked without turning. "The War God himself? He certainly spared no words at the meeting. But for him to be so reckless¡­"

    "I have never seen Idris Khan before today, Your Majesty. But the man we locked up certainly gave off the air of¡­ I''m not quite sure what the best word to describe him would be. He''s full of confidence from what I can tell, and despite his current position, he maintains that confidence."

    "Yes. I got that feeling as well. I suppose we will soon find out whether it was just a fool''s arrogance instead. That ridiculous offer¡­ Artifacts aside, to offer us the Cayra citadel and her surrounding territories¡­ It would have given us access to Tarmia''s heartland. Not only that, the ruins of Ekvatana could have been rebuilt. It would take years but there may have come a time when Xenaria''s capital would once again be Ekvatana. The place is now just an outpost with its large towers."

    "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I do believe that was his plan. Idris'' I mean. He offered all of that just for the thrill of taking it back from us through force."

    "I know," she said softly. Was she not allowed to dream? "But Duke Serene is no pushover. And neither are you for that matter, Eildred. Would my finest swordsman not be willing to clash blades with the supposed God of War?"

    "My place is here at the palace, by your side. I''ve lived long enough to serve two generations of House Lakris and I hope to serve a third. I will protect you and the princess until death comes for me or old age cripples me."

    Dahlia laughed. "Are you saying you will outlive me, Sir Aegis? And long enough to serve my daughter as well? Trivial matters aside, has Idris been isolated from his aides as requested?"

    "Yes. And only a single servant comes down here to bring meals for the Empire''s prisoners."

    "I see. And was it Finral that decided on which servant was to be tasked with this position?" Eildred did not respond. His subtle change in expression said he wasn''t sure. Finral made mention of most things to him. The chamberlain saw it fit that those in charge of security be aware of even the minutest of details. "Send someone trusted to watch this servant next time they come down here. In secret of course. The Empire no doubt has their own spies lurking about. Though, if it really is the Idris Khan sitting in my dungeons, I must say that I have acquired quite the bargaining piece."

    "Perhaps this was within the man''s expectations? This way, we are likely to still receive the same compensation he offered and perhaps more."

    "Perhaps. It doesn''t change the fact that they''ve killed my beloved friend. It''ll take more than what was offered to appease my anger," Dahlia said. She tried not to think about it. But to lose a woman as great as Sar''tara was a massive loss. The duchess was as strong and proud as they come. Gentle and curious at first, but quick to adapt to her unfamiliar surroundings. Dahlia felt ill imagining the manner in which Sar''tara was found in her own tent.

    The gates to the dungeon were opened to her and Eildred. A stationed guard with a torch led them further inside to the requested cell. Idris Khan sat square in the center of his cell, cross legged with his eyes closed. His shabby attire made him appear helpless. But a straight back and muscles pressing against those clothes told a different story. The ends of his mouth curled up as the approaching footsteps halted before his cell. "Open it. Then leave us," Dahlia commanded.

    The guardsman did as he was told. The queen stepped inside the bare cell with Eildred close behind her.

    "It''s rather disrespectful of you, Your Majesty. To bring only one guard I mean. I took you for more of a cautious person at the meeting. Though now I think perhaps it was just arrogance. Or is it that you seek to match my own confidence? If so, then I applaud you for the¡­ attempt."

    Dahlia could feel her face color as her temper flared. She inhaled deeply. "Why?"

    "Why what?"

    "Why call for a meeting of peace. Why expose yourself in the enemy heartland. Why even bother offering such ridiculous terms for peace? Was it all some grand plan?"

    "You misunderstand. The demise of Lady Sar''tara was not of my devising. I do not use underhanded methods such as assassins. A shame. I had heard many tales of The Huntress. She would have made for a fun opponent."

    "¡­No one here mentioned the duchess. If it was not something you plotted, then how is it you know of her death?"

    Idris coughed sarcastically. "I''m not sure whether that was an insult or a praise. You both underestimate and overestimate me at the same time. I have spies of my own. Both here and within the Empire. I was aware of the plot to assassinate an officer of prestige. It just so happened that it was Sar''tara. I had requested that the plan be delayed until I was out of Exaltyron. But those Scorpions just don''t have the patience," he shrugged, shaking his head. "I am a warrior, your majesty. I swear it on the blood in my veins. Sar''tara''s death had nothing to do with me. The one thing I will not have my name associated with is an accusation of cowardice."

    Though she found the words somewhat believable, Dahlia''s anger hadn''t eased in the slightest.

    Idris took notice. "Was The Huntress a friend of yours?" he asked. "You appear to take her passing rather personally."

    "What was your purpose in coming here, if not to just provoke us? You are our captive now. I won''t ask for a cheap ransom."

    "Do you have to ask the obvious question? I came here to see you. Skysong and the Summer Kingdom are but hollow shells of their former selves. Their heads pay a yearly tribute to us now. All that''s left of the eastern lands are a few poor cities and ascetics holed up in mountains with no interest for the happenings of the world. I came to see whether The Queen in the west would make for a worthy playmate.

    "You know the rules of the game. Perhaps have some skill at it too. That much, I can glean from your eyes. But right now, you''re fighting over control of the board with the very pieces you should have in your palms. I have no interest in Xenaria as it stands. My offer of compensation was meant to unite your court. With the duchess'' passing, it is more divided than ever. No ransom amount will change the degree of resentment some of your subjects hold for me. Not that it matters, of course. There is no ransom if there is no prisoner."

    Dahlia clenched her fists. "Do you think I will let you escape so easily, Idris Khan!?" she cried, her high voice echoing through the dark passages.

    The War God slowly rose to his feet. He towered over her in height and matched her guard. "You say that when you''ve come here with a single guard?" Eildred half unsheathed the blade at his waist and stepped between his queen and the prisoner. "Ah, of course. Sir Aegis himself. Another man I''ve heard many tales of. Sheath your blade, Thundersword. I''ve already said that I am no coward. I would not attack an unarmed woman."

    Dahlia stepped out of the cell, arms trembling in fury. "Your arrogance ends here, War God. Whether you''re responsible for Lady Sar''tara''s death or not, it matters little. Eildred, have the Royal Guard triple their watch. He will remain here as my hostage until his Emperor comes to claim him."

    The prisoner laughed. "Are you certain, Your Majesty? To increase the watch also poses the risk of increasing potential spies, no?"

    "Do you enjoy playing with people so much? And you expect me to believe your declaration of innocence!?" Dahlia hissed, grabbing hold of the iron bars with both hands. Eildred still stood inside the cell with one hand on the hilt of a half drawn sword. A single command and Idris would die. But that would be a mistake. She forced herself to take deep breaths.

    Idris sat back down in his cross legged position. Only then did Eildred back away, though just a few steps. "Can''t help it," Idris said. "Force of habit. I did not attain the title of a War God through strength and valor alone. And Emperor Arzael II won''t come for me if that is what you''re counting on. He lets me do as I please because I''m good at what I do. He knows that I''m plenty capable of taking care of myself."

    Dahlia closed her eyes and exhaled through her teeth. She let go of the iron bars. "Then what good are you to me alive?" she asked calmly, glaring, believing herself to finally have the upper hand in this conversation. A strange, cold wind seemed to bleed up through the stone of the cell at those words, as if the very floor this man was seated upon rejected her threat.

    "Oh? And who is going to kill me? Will you execute me on charges without proof? On a murder charge of a casualty of war? The Huntress was a soldier at the end of the day, was she not? Or will you have me killed here in the dark? What happens when word of it leaks to your court? Are you prepared for the consequences? Not that Sir Aegis would dare to cleave my neck to begin with. Duty bound but also honorable. He wouldn''t kill an unarmed man no matter how loud of an order you barked at him. As I said. I''m perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

    Eildred twitched, sword sliding further out of its sheath. His gaze was fixed upon his queen, hesitation very evident in his eyes. He would kill a man unarmed if it was ordered. But he would hate it greatly, Dahlia knew.

    She turned to leave. She had nothing tangible against Idris. Any more, and she would truly give the order of execution. Her heart pounded against her chest, the rage within it burning brilliantly like the torches hanging from old walls on either side of her. Iron creaked behind her and clinked shut as Eildred locked the cell and marched after her.

    "Hold, Your Majesty!" Idris cried. "I am not done yet. Among my many talents, I believe myself to be good at judging others on sight. I surround myself with only the most capable aides. Tis how I rose to my current seat within the Empire. I''d recommend not attending The Huntress'' funeral, if that''s what you''re planning. Lest you risk losing everything you have. I said I have no interest in Xenaria as of right now. But that can change depending on your actions. I''d hate to see a potential opponent wither before I''ve had the chance to cross blades. Your court has many ambitious men. I saw it in their eyes. And leaving for Metsiphon now with the court so fragile could be the opportunity they need. You will soon find your list of allies growing thin. Of course, this is all just a prediction. But know this, Queen Dahlia Lakris, Guiding Hand and Shield of Xenaria, I have never been wrong in my predictions!"

    Dahlia stormed away from the cell. She marched out the dungeon and began climbing the steps to the palace, no longer bothering to hold up her dress. "Claims he wants unity within my court when he attempts to sow chaos. Such audacity!" She nearly tripped over her hemming. Eildred caught her by the waist.

    "Not at all, my queen," he said. "I believe you to be misunderstanding him. I have not seen a more lonely and honest man in my entire life. He tried to hide it, but he was angered at Lady Sar''tara''s death as well."

    She frowned as she dusted off her dress. "What possible reason would he have for being angered?"

    "His machinations were ruined. As complex as Idris Khan makes himself out to be, he is very simple. It isn''t that he enjoys war. It is his only purpose in life. He seeks a playmate just as he claimed. He has reached an unreachable height and seeks an opponent worthy of his time. He provoked you, hoping you would take the necessary course of action to unite the court. It was a mistake to bring me along as your only guard. I don''t mean to say I doubt myself. But Idris didn''t doubt himself either. Then again, he likely wouldn''t attack you."

    Dahlia thought for a long hard moment as they went back up the stairs from where they came. Lonely? Could there possibly be such a reason to be lonely? "Sir Aegis¡­ Are you perhaps sympathizing with the prisoner?"

    "It has been a while since I''ve had reason to fully draw my sword. A much longer while since I used it against an opponent worth my while. I sympathize with his warrior''s spirit. Because I too¡­ I too am lonely, Your Majesty. I think I would have enjoyed meeting such a man on the battlefield."

    "But your duty is to protect me?" she asked.

    "Indeed. My duty is to protect you, my queen," Eildred said, deep voice full of melancholy.

    ***

    The following morning saw winter''s first sigh. Grey clouds cast their shadow over a thin white blanket spread along the roads and rooftops of Exaltyron. Adrian had not shared Dahlia''s bed the night before. She had requested her servants arrive early in the morning to help dress her. She decided to make for Metsiphon to attend Sar''tara''s funeral. Idris'' warning had cast an ominous veil over her thoughts. He said that there were ambitious men within her court looking to usurp power. She''d have bit her nails if not for the dark gloves hiding her hands.

    Dahlia shook her head. She had no need to harken to his words. No matter what he''d said or what Eildred thought of him, it didn''t change the fact that he was an emissary from the Empire. An enemy from the nation that had taken the life of one of her dearest friends.

    Dahlia stared at her reflection within a mirror as her maids tied her hair into a bun, sticking a long pin through it. They had dressed her in a dark, full-sleeved dress. She had worn the dress only once before, when her husband had died. She wrapped herself in a thick black cloak with silver fur at the top. The fur belonged to a Silver Tail wolf that Sar''tara had hunted. She had stitched the fur to the cloak herself and had presented it to Dahlia as a gift. It was heavy. But warm. She would cherish the object forever.

    Eildred had already prepared an escort group for her which he would be leading. A long line of knights in black armor sitting atop black horses made for an intimidating sight. Both chancellors as well as the chamberlain were waiting at the palace gates to see her off. They bowed before her as she approached. "Adrian Rinz. I name you as a temporary regent of Xenaria. Manage the affairs of the nation well in my absence. I will only be gone a few short cycles. And Marco Aurelin, you are to aid the regent in whatever he may need. You are temporarily the First Chancellor and the Flames forbid any harm befalls the regent, you will then take his place. Do either of you have any questions."

    "No, Your Majesty," they both said in unison.

    "Good. You''ve both served me for a good number of years and I hope you will continue to do so. I will see you all by early winter. Farewell."

    "Farewell Your Majesty, and may Trillia''s sheltering hand be upon you always," Adrian said as she turned to leave. Dahlia glanced back at him one last time before climbing into her carriage. The convoy finally set out.

    Halfway along the road, they would receive word that Idris Khan had broken out of prison. And shortly after that, Dahlia received a letter addressed to her personally. The envelope was stamped shut with a seal bearing a hand. The imperial seal of Tarmia given only to a select few aside from the imperial family. It read as follows:

    To the Lioness, Queen Dahlia Lakris,

    In a few short years, Xenaria will be engulfed in flames.

    And you will only have yourself to blame.

    Enemy though I may be

    I hope that you will survive that ordeal

    If you feel that you are through¡­

    Know that I did so warn you

    My predictions are never wrong

    ~Idris Khan

 Chapter 46: Funeral (Volume 2, Chapter 9)

    <u>Chapter 9 - Funeral</u>

    A spotless sky greeted the royal convoy upon their arrival to Metsiphon. The atmosphere of the city, however, was anything but bright. Citizens went about their daily activities with the somber expressions of tired and grey undertakers. Not even the sight of the queen could change that. The streets cleared, allowing the convoy to pass. People bowed towards the royal carriage. Their dreary eyes were further shadowed. The lady of the city, the sheltering veil of her people, had been taken away from them, leaving their grieI''dving hearts to blister under an unhindered sun.

    Sar''tara was known not only for her combat prowess, but her generosity as well. Bards and historians sung her praises. Children looked up to her. She was known to roam Metsiphon''s streets, handing out aid where it was needed. Multiple orphanages were established in her name. Underground guilds had been purged. Criminals shivered in the narrowest of crevices. The city thrived. All because of her unwavering resolve and fierce persona. The city, near equivalent in size to Exaltyron, shined greater than the capital. A truly remarkable achievement of which Dahlia was jealous.

    Dahlia had tried replicating Sar''tara''s methods, but found it difficult to do so. A queen had many enemies outside of her palace grounds and Dahlia wasn''t nearly as charismatic as the duchess. Despite being an outsider, Sar''tara had so easily captured the hearts of her subjects. Something she was adept at, Dahlia thought. Even the iron shell that was Kalin''s heart had cracked before her.

    Dahlia smiled, staring out her carriage window and reminiscing about the times she had walked these wide lanes with a curious and na?ve Sar''tara. A woman who at one point was completely ignorant to any sense of shame or even common sense. Their lives were completely different. Dahlia had her hands tied with managing courtly affairs whereas as Sar''tara didn''t care for such responsibilities at all. It''d been nothing short of a miracle that the lesser nobles of Metsiphon did not seem to cause any trouble. There were questions at first. Questions about The Huntress'' origins, her lineage, and her character. Accusations of her being a cunning courtesan and nothing more.

    Sar''tara was cunning, that much was certain. As cunning as hunters come. That part of her was reserved for the battlefield. Rumormongers and slanderers, she thrashed. Not with words, but with fists. Infamous though her reputation was amongst the noble kith, what mattered to her was the place she''d earned in her subjects'' hearts. Soon, none spoke ill of Sar''tara in public spaces, fearing both physical retaliation, and economic sanctions from both the duke, and the crown.

    There was much more about Sar''tara of which Dahlia was jealous. The duchess was strong of both mind and heart. The sole survivor of an ethnic cleansing. A survivor of the Papillion Forest. She had described it as a beautiful forest lush with glowing flora of many colors.

    The Vashiri tribeswomen ¡ªSar''tara''s people¡ª had intentionally lived outside of civilization, guarding and caring for a ''forest deity'' who possessed powerful magical Artifacts. Their isolation worked against them. Centuries left alone allowed rumors to rise. Rumors of the unexplored forest, from wherein any and all travelers died before setting a single foot inside, hiding darkspawn. The Astral Union acted upon these rumors and burnt the forest down, taking the Artifacts for themselves and labelling the torched remains ''Alcor''s Ashes''.

    Dahlia despised the Union. An organization owing allegiance to no nation state. Their base was the Thousand Sun City. A militarised city with impeccable fortifications and a professional army that would rival even Tarmia''s numbers. Only recently did Dahlia learn the city stood atop vast gold veins. She had always been perplexed by how a single city fed some two million citizens. Her spies seldom had a hard time entering the city ¡ªany and all able bodies were welcome and put to work. They did however have difficulty leaving alive or even sending messages.

    The Astral Union justified their existence through a single mission; the eradication of all darkspawn and servants of the Tortured Throne. Remnants of High House Zz''tai, Shadow Walkers, and the Vampires of the Kal''Kar mountains were amongst the beings that they viewed as evil. They had spies everywhere and frequently sent inquisition legions to patrol their neighboring nations. And there was nothing both Xenaria and Tarmia could do in response.

    Sar''tara often spoke of vengeance. With time, her fiery gaze had dimmed and her harsh words had become a whisper. She eventually came to realize the impossibility of her vengeance. The Sun City''s walls could not be sieged. Yet, she never forgot. She continued to search for a weakness that could be exploited. Continued sending letters, asking Dahlia questions about sieging methods and their economic plausibility.

    And now, she was gone, her one true goal gone with her. One of Dahlia''s most beloved friends. Her remains had been brought to Metsiphon. The funeral was to be held later in the evening with Dahlia present. The royal convoy had ridden hard to arrive on time. Sar''tara would be buried in House Serene''s crypt.

    The courtyard before Kalin''s mansion was a mix of bright harvest season colors. Trees organized in a line and kept trimmed to seem like a wall of standing sentries, their rank distinguished by color and their sorrow spread about before their roots as gentle breezes caused them to shed leaves.

    Kalin was waiting before his mansion to receive the convoy. "Your Majesty," he said with a formal bow as she took Eildred''s hand and stepped down from her carriage. Sir Radis Draumen was also with Kalin.

    "Lord Serene," Dahlia said with an acknowledging nod. He was nothing like she remembered. They''d known each other since they were children. Dahlia had at one point been infatuated with a younger Kalin. He always carried himself with pride, embodying his ideal vision of a noble and a House Lord. He had a spirit to rival the king of beasts, as his father, Sialin, was said to have had before him. His height peaked just below six and a half feet. A towering figure now known by the people as Xenaria''s Shining General. A pillar of the nation.

    A pillar with cracked foundations and on the verge of collapse as if tormented by years of weathering and abandonment. A ruin.

    His back that was always straight was now slightly hunched, broad shoulders slumped forward, brows slanted down and lips kept in a thin line. If he was even the slightest bit angry or hungering for revenge, Dahlia could not see it. She was shorter than him but he reminded her of a wounded cub. This was the first she had ever seen the duke in such a pitiful state. "I trust my daughter is well?" she asked as they entered the mansion.

    "Yes. She''s upstairs with the Second Princess. Your Majesty, if it isn''t¡ª"

    "You can call me by my name, Kalin. You know that."

    "Dahlia¡­ could you sing for Tara? I don''t exactly have the voice and no other Serene member from the main family is alive."

    Of course, and Kalin would never allow branch members of House Serene near his wife''s grave lest they slander and curse a dead person. "Yes. She was dear to me as well," Dahlia said, bottling her own emotions to keep her composure.

    "Thank you," Kalin said, voice haggard as if he''d spent sleepless nights crying.

    Eildred had the Royal Guard position themselves outside of the mansion, creating a perimeter of black-armored guards. A servant led Dahlia upstairs to Elizia''s chambers. She found the girl bedridden. Emeria and Azurus were with her, caring for her at her bedside. "Your Majesty," the young knight said as he got down on one knee.

    "What happened to the Second Princess?" Dahlia questioned.

    "She spent an entire night outside firing arrows nonstop. She came down with a fever not long after. It''s been a few days already," Emeria said.

    Dahlia placed her hand on Elizia''s forehead. It was hot. The girl had a lighter tone than her mother, but the rest of her features looked very much like Sar''tara. A few years older, and it would be easy to mistake her as her mother. She opened her eyes briefly and gave a weak smile. "Rest child," Dahlia said, feeling a pang of pain upon seeing Sar''tara''s image within Elizia. "We will lay your mother to rest today. I''ll sing the Song of Eagles for her. She will be remembered in our hearts." Elizia''s eyes closed again. Dahlia turned to her own daughter, giving a stern glare. "I had asked for you to be at the capital many days ago."

    "Mother, about that¡­"

    "Save your excuses, Emma. It is well you were with Elizia during this time. She needs caring. You may stay by her side for a while longer or you can attend the funeral. I''ll leave that decision to you. But please, do not disobey my orders again."

    "Yes mother."

    "And you, Azurus. You were chosen to be my daughter''s knight because your talent with the blade is only second to Sir Aegis. Do not forget that your ultimate fealty is to me and not Emma. If she refuses to obey me, it is in your right to force her obedience. I don''t care if you bring her to me in a burlap sack. Next time something occurs, I''ll have someone take your place as Emeria''s knight. Am I understood?"

    "Yes Your Majesty," Azurus said, head down and still on one knee.

    Dahlia wished there was something more she could have done for Elizia as she left the bedchamber. She felt as if it was her responsibility. Had she known of the girl''s condition, she could have brought along a Healer from the Order of Trillia. Healers were those born with a rare gift ¡ªsaid to be one in a hundred thousand¡ª and the Trillian temples had gathered most with the talent under their umbrella. Though, that may have only helped with Healing Elizia''s torn hands. Those born with the gift of Healing were only capable of treating wounds and fatigue.

    Dahlia uttered silent prayers to the Creator and the Flames for Elizia''s quick recovery. She hoped the girl hadn''t been infected with any diseases. Memories of her husband''s passing surfaced at the thought. She chewed on her nails as she walked down the illuminated halls of the manse. Kalin would have his best physics treating his daughter. There was no reason to worry.

    Evening came too quickly. Sar''tara''s body was placed in a wooden casket and carried into the crypts by soldiers dressed in dark coats. Members of her personal unit. They''d requested to be the ones to bury her.

    Kalin walked alongside Dahlia at the head of the pallbearers. Her black dress dragged along the dirt floor. She took in the image of Sar''tara''s peaceful face before a heavy white cloth had been placed over the body. Her cheeks had sunken slightly, but she was still just as beautiful. Almost as vibrant even, hints of color remaining despite being a corpse.

    House Serene''s crypts were an ancient thing. They weren''t used unless mainline family members passed. The burial site had existed for thousands of years, having been built long before Metsiphon became a great city. Thick cracks patched by spider webs marked layered brick walls. Dahlia shivered. She feared spiders as a child. A fear she never truly conquered. The occasional rat scurried along shadows, further adding to her discomfort. She took in a deep breath to relax herself.

    Sar''tara would have laughed at her. As queen, Dahlia would never know the miseries suffered by those less fortunate than her. It was her responsibility to better the lives of all Xenarians. Many people lived on grime painted streets infested with critters and rats. Exaltyron''s Impoverished District was one such area. A district that had devolved into mere slums and places of criminal respite. Every monarch ¡ªDahlia included¡ª vied to improve the area and all of them had given up on it. It housed a Shrine of Flames and was also the home to powerful street guilds. All that could be done was keep criminal influence at bay and stop their rot from tainting the city''s entirety.

    The group walked past the tombs of the very first members of House Serene, lantern bearers at the side showing the passage forward. Each tomb had a life sized stone statue beside it. They were replicas of each person. A statue was made for every Serene once they reached adulthood to maintain visual accuracy. The pallbearers stopped before two empty tombs. The statue of Kalin was beside one whilst the other tomb had no statue at all. Dahlia raised a brow toward him.

    "She didn''t want one," Kalin said, noticing the unasked question. "Said it was pointless. She believed that it created attachments to the past. Something the Selharr Vashiri thought of as taboo. They are a headstrong people that always looked to the future.

    "I say this but Tara would often bury her face in my chest at night, weeping," Kalin said, looking at his empty palms. "Her frequent nightmares lessened, but never truly disappeared. I often found her occupied within Metsiphon''s libraries, searching for records of the Thousand Sun City''s construction, searching for any weakness that would allow her to attain justice for her first family."

    Yes, I know of all that too well.

    Kalin looked up at crumbling walls where a figure of Sar''tara should have stood. "I should never have listened to her. Now I have nothing to remind me of her beautiful face." He broke into tears.

    Dahlia swallowed the lump in her throat. "Don''t say that you have nothing, Kalin. You have Elizia. You have your daughter. She looks very much like our Sar''tara. Take care of her. She''s headstrong just like her mother. But she is young and brash. She doesn''t possess Sar''tara''s level of experience."

    "I fear it will be difficult to keep her from the battlefield. She takes after her mother."

    "And you should be proud of that. She''s the heir to the House. You must not bind her, Kalin. Rather, teach her. Teach her well so that she does not share your beloved wife''s fate." Dahlia struggled to get the words out of her mouth. She did her part as both queen and friend. But she wanted to cry as well. Sar''tara had lent her a shoulder when Madrivall passed. Dahlia wanted to support Kalin in any way necessary, but found it hard enough to hold back her own emotions.

    The casket was placed within the lifeless grey tomb of stone. "Lord Serene. Would you allow me a few words?" A soldier asked. Light from the lanterns twinkled in his teary eyes. His voice shook, threatening to crack like the walls around him.

    "Captain Faren," Kalin croaked. "Yes. Of course. Go ahead."

    "Thank you, my lord." He turned to address the other soldiers. "I know that you all want to mourn. I know that everyone here wants to shed tears. But let us not forget that our Huntress, the Lady Sar''tara, was a survivor of the Selharr Vashiri. A tribe that never looks back. A people of pride and strength. The Vashiri did not mourn their fallen for more than a day. Alas, it has been several days already since her passing. Let today be the last day we shed tears. Lady Sar''tara brought about the best from within us. Whether it be our strength as warriors. Or our morals as people. She was kind to those in need of help. And swift to pass judgment on those that preyed on the weak. She smote our enemies in battle. Her bow felled many as they rained down arrows from the heavens. For The Huntress was given a heaven sent talent. Let us remember Sar''tara, not as a fallen Eagle, but an Eagle that soared higher than any other. An Eagle that flew into the future, guiding the path for all those behind it. Let us carry the Lady''s fierce spirit and kindness with us. Let us carve a better future for ourselves and all those we are charged to protect. Let us be generous to the less fortunate. And let us be swift and terrible to our enemies just as she was. For that is what I believe Lady Sar''tara would have wanted. Forgive me, Lord General, if you believe I have over spoken. But I needed to say that much at least. If only I had disobeyed her that night. If only I hadn''t left her alone. Perhaps she would still be alive. I should have fallen in her stead. I¡ª"

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "That''s enough, Captain." Kalin wiped away his own tears. "You need not blame yourself. Your words have shown me clarity. I had been looking behind me when I should not. It isn''t what she would have wanted. Your Majesty, if you would not mind now¡­" he said, turning towards Dahlia.

    She nodded as she cleared her throat. It took her several deep breaths before she felt ready to sing. She closed her eyes and inhaled once more.

    A blinding sun in a cloudless sky

    There was a bird that did soar high

    Valiant and splendid she was

    Far across was heard her singing cry

    This was our Silver Eagle

    In the darkness of the starless night

    Unhindered was her piercing sight

    She gazed upon the horizon far

    Guiding those with brilliant silver light

    This was our Silver Eagle

    Perched high up in the maple tree

    Or flying high in liberty

    Not a detail passed her by

    Not even in the boundless sea

    This was our Silver Eagle

    With a peerless smile, as if having fun

    She rained down fear on the wicked ones

    Their malice could afflict her not

    Each battle she had easily won

    This was our Silver Eagle

    A bird could only soar so long

    Her flight she did try to prolong

    In the end she did descend

    From her throat escaped one last song

    This was our Silver Eagle

    A blinding sun in a cloudless sky

    There was a bird that did soar high

    Valorous and glorious she was

    Remembered far will be her singing cry

    This is our Silver Eagle

    "This was Sar''tara Serene

    Your blessed deeds we all have seen

    Rest now within our memory

    Through us will live your legacy

    Rest in peace, daughter of Xenaria

    Rest in peace, Sar''tara Serene"

    Dahlia opened her eyes to see everyone else staring at the dirt floor whilst silently weeping. She too shed a few tears in silence. No further words were spoken as the group ascended from the crypts. The soldiers that had attended the funeral all left to see their respective families within the city. Those without family departed for Arcaeus Peak.

    Kalin invited Dahlia to dinner, presumably to seek solace in her company. She meant to leave for the capital. The warnings of Tarmia''s emissary still tugged at her inner strings. But she couldn''t leave a grieving friend so soon.

    The sun had long since set when she arrived at the mansion''s dining hall, Eildred trailing after her. Six paneled windows shone a hollow dark, luminite white reflecting off their polished surface. Dahlia was surprised to find the hall void of people. Kalin sat alone on one end of a long table. The same mahogany table with cushioned chairs wherein she''d celebrated the duke''s wedding.

    Dahlia had expected for at least Emeria and Azurus to join them, if not Elizia. Tall doors closed behind her with a heavy thud. Eildred, changed into his violet uniform, stood on one side of the doors while a man of equal stature stood on the other side. The man wore a thick coat that looked more akin to protective wear used during friendly duels rather than normal servant''s garb. A shining silver eagle brooch was perched over his heart. The Wolf of Metsiphon, Commander Jengard Rask. Dahlia had only seen him once many years ago. His size made him hard to forget.

    She took the nearest seat to the Duke. Only a portion of the table was full of food, but it was more than enough for two people. She remembered the ceaseless scolding that Kalin would receive from his wife when serving more food than could be eaten. She glanced in his direction with a disappointed look, hoping to rekindle sweet memories of Sar''tara. She found Kalin to be staring intently at the empty silver plate before him, a fierce flame in his eyes as if meaning to melt holes into it. He was sitting upright, no trace of that slumped posture remaining. That lion''s pride that she remembered had returned. And with it came a calm rage as silent and deadly as a tidal wave, as if the depression preceding it had been the recession of seawater that followed quaking ground.

    Seeing as how there were no others present, Dahlia helped herself to small portions of various present dishes, not caring for proper etiquette or table manners. She was doing her best to mimic Sar''tara. Kalin hardly paid any mind. He continued staring at his own blurred reflection within his plate as she helped herself to roasted chicken and pork as well as what looked to be fried Grayscale fish fillets from the lake by Arcaeus Peak.

    Eildred coughed, as if trying to remind her that her knife and fork remained untainted whilst her fingers were not. Dahlia also took portions out of salads and an aromatic soup which was served alongside Tarmian flat bread. Despite her gripes with her husband, Sar''tara had often complained about Dahlia''s thinner figure and encouraged the queen to eat to her heart''s content when visiting Metsiphon. Dahlia was certain Kalin had prepared this much food with those thoughts in mind. He was too thorough and caring to have not done so.

    She slowly chewed without saying a word, waiting for him to speak first. He had things he wished to discuss. That much was obvious. But by the time her stomach had pleasantly swelled and her plate had emptied, he still hadn''t uttered a word.

    "I remember the early days after Sa''tara''s integration in society," Dahlia began, with an innocent smile. She wiped her fingertips with a flowery napkin before dabbing it on her lips. "The slanderous words women of nobility would utter at gatherings with their mouths hidden behind fans. Their consequent cries when she slapped and shamed them before everyone."

    "And then proceeded to bruise and break their enraged husbands and brothers," Kalin said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

    "I''m jealous of Sar''tara. She''s accomplished much. In comparison, I''ve done nothing"

    "Mm."

    "Metsiphon is truly an achievement to be proud of. I hear there are very few in the city that starve. And there''s next to no shady activities. And all of this thanks to Sar''tara''s kindness and charisma."

    Kalin smiled. "Yes. She truly was a blessing."

    Dahlia bit a corner of her lip, wondering if Kalin would say anymore. His thoughts still seemed to linger on his wife. A woman driven to improve the lives of those less fortunate than her. And she''d succeeded.

    "Enough about that," Kalin sighed, his voice suddenly clear and strong. Something more familiar to Dahlia''s memory. "How did the meeting with the Empire''s diplomats go?" he finally asked.

    She blinked at the strange change in topics. "Are you familiar with the name Idris Khan?"

    "I see. So the rumors were true then."

    Dahlia raised a brow. Rumors. She doubted what he heard was just rumors. Kalin was well informed. "An end to the conflict would have been a welcome change."

    "Indeed," he replied sarcastically. "Ekvatana''s resurrection would have been wondrous too."

    "Kalin. Put your worries to rest. I won''t sign any peace treaties. Not after what they did. And Idris wasn''t there to offer terms of peace to begin with. You want something from me. I can tell. What is it?"

    His expression darkened. His tone grew deep. "Everything you can get me," he answered, glowering at his plate. He slowly met her eyes again. "We''ve been skirmishing with the Empire long enough. I want a declaration of war from your mouth. Use your power. Send out royal decrees. Double the labor force of House Galadin''s iron mines. Request ¡ªno, demand soldiers from each and every noble. From House Galadin and Caranel especially. Order Admiral Coraine to take the city of Ostirin. I want the full backing of all your court members. Every resource you can spare me without crippling the nation. I want the royal army and Eildred Aegis. A vanguard headed by Sir Aegis and Commander Rask will be the most formidable front that we will have ever mustered. And¡­ Healers. Yes. Healers from the Order of Trillia. They will be useful for the war."

    Kalin was looking at her with narrowed eyes, waiting for a response. Waiting to see how much of his demands would be met. Almost like a pride staring down a grazing herd, wondering just how much it could take before the population was crippled. "I will do my best," Dahlia said, averting her own gaze and fidgeting with her hands beneath the table.

    His eyes narrowed further. "And what of the First Chancellor, Adrian Rinz?" he slowly said.

    "What of him?" Dahlia snapped. Kalin maintained a calm sense of focus, his wood colored eyes seeing right through her. She once thought that glare attractive. It still was, to an extent. Even past forty, he retained some of that charm she had fallen for as a young girl. His plate was still void of food. "Do you¡­ have spies within my palace?" she slowly asked. If Kalin knew, then her chamberlain most certainly did. And if so, Eildred too¡­ her gaze flickered towards the uniformed guard who wore an emotionless expression.

    "Surely you aren''t that na?ve, Dahlia. High House Serene has been the bastion of Xenaria for over a thousand years. Our duty is to protect the nation from external threats and internal. Again, I will ask you, what of Adrian Rinz? Are you willing to go to the extreme if he disobeys orders from the queen?"

    It wasn''t fair. He was leveraging his friendship as well as playing on her guilt. Kalin was putting himself and Sar''tara between her and Adrian. Kalin wanted war. And he wasn''t going to go about it in a haphazard manner. "I will do what is necessary," Dahlia said. Her stomach felt unsettled. She surely wasn''t going to deny Kalin after indulging in his generosity. Was he waiting for me to eat my fill before springing this on me?

    The aftertaste of food in her mouth began turning bitter. It didn''t matter. She needed to put her personal feelings behind. The Empire had gotten away with far too much. They needed to pay.

    "I don''t mean to be harsh, Dahlia. I know that you''ve been using the Trillian faith to maintain order. There are other ways to achieve that. You could have gotten the same results through law. Or¡­ force. There''s a reason you''ll hardly find anyone preaching the Trillian faith within Metsiphon. They disappear as soon as they appear. Sar''tara made it as such. She had always been wary of them. The Order of Trillia abides by a strict code of anti-conflict. Your chancellor will never agree to war no matter how much you plea. Even if you leverage your love against him. His devotion to his goddess is greater than his devotion to you. Trillians are a fanatical lot. Which brings me to my next point. I don''t trust him. In fact, I''d much rather trust the escaped prisoner rather than him."

    "You''re aware of Idris Khan''s prison break?"

    "Naturally," Kalin admitted without flinching.

    "And even after all of that, you would dare say that you trust a Tarmian more than one of your own?" Dahlia asked, severely disappointed.

    "One of our own¡­ There is an enemy Sar''tara hated more than the Empire. An enemy she ceaselessly searched for a way to defeat. I''ve come to share the intensity of her hatred. And even after taking my wife from me, I still hate them more than the Tarmians. I''ve made her ambition my own. You missed a valuable opportunity, Dahlia. I haven''t met this Idris Khan, but if the so called God of War was looking for a challenge, then he may have accepted a temporary alliance."

    Dahlia''s eyebrows furrowed. "You mean the Union and the Thousand Sun City?" Kalin nodded in reply. "What does this have to do with not trusting Adrian?"

    "You''ve let the Order of Trillia grow without restraint, Dahlia. I have unreliable sources claiming that the religion stems from the Thousand Sun City. But I have reliable information regarding high ranking members of the faith being former members of the Astral Union. I can''t blame you. They have a tight control over any information regarding themselves. Now, a fully militarised city, slowly spreading its roots into our nation, unchecked, unchallenged, and gaining the favor of the common folk and aristocrats alike. You would be surprised to learn that a faith proclaiming peace has many thousands of armed mercenaries at their call, all guising themselves as ordinary citizens. Heira, Torsdale, Stoneport, Assak, Qalydon, all have major Trillian temples. And you''ve commissioned one to be built in Exaltyron. I don''t think it''s too late to act, but it slowly is getting to that point. I want war, Dahlia. I want the Empire to pay. But as a Serene, I bear the responsibility of defending our nation. So, what of Adrian Rinz? What of the Order of Trillia and their ties to the Thousand Sun City?"

    Dahlia didn''t notice it, but she was biting her own nails again. It was too much information to take in at once. Kalin poured himself a cup of Red Vine red and drank it all in one go. Dahlia poured herself some and stared at her own reflection within the blood colored liquid.

    "You should have been privy to this information long before me, Your Majesty. It has been almost ten years since Marco resigned to the lesser duties of the Second Chancellor and Adrian was given the position of the First. Think back. Your intelligence system has been compromised for a while. I''d reckon it must have begun after the chancellor''s appointment. I''ve said my piece. The rest depends on you. I ask that you don''t let your feelings cloud your judgment."

    Dahlia''s hands trembled as she raised her cup to her mouth. Kalin poured himself more wine from the pitcher and consumed it in one breath again. She glanced at him as he looked up at the ceiling while sighing. For a second she saw a younger image of him. Brave and gallant. The same person she once wanted to marry when she was her own daughter''s age. Those thoughts changed when their eyes met again. Kalin''s eyes didn''t have that innocent sparkle that she''d fallen in love with. That charm she thought she saw just a moment before was nothing more than a thin fabric veiling something else. Something more visceral and experienced. His eyes seemed older than he was, full of memory and¡­ hate.

    "You look¡­ pretty, Dahlia. Very¡­ pretty," he said after a long while.

    She frowned. And then the charm is back in full? He was wholly putting her through a sea storm of emotions, half of it unintentional. He was bad at holding his liquor. She remembered the first time he had gotten drunk at a gathering. A group of girls had pushed him into a fountain. She was among them.

    Dahlia shook her head. She already had someone she now loved. Someone that could very well be using her. A traitor to Xenaria. Again, the Tarmian general''s warning came back to her. Was Adrian the one Idris had been speaking of? On a glance, Jasim Galadin and his followers seemed more of the power hungry type. Or perhaps they were merely greedy for money. But she''d known Adrian for so long. Could it really be? The words of an enemy haunted her. And Kalin had laid bare the facts before her.

    Dahlia had been too relaxed over the past few years. She thought her nation was stable and safe. She fretted over her court too often. The High Houses caused issues at times ¡ªHouse Galadin raising iron prices and dealing in strange businesses, House Caranel eating their own members alive and shirking their taxes, leaving northern Xenaria in a precarious state. House Coraine ignoring royal summons while amassing copious amounts of wealth through their monopoly of the Aegis Basin.

    There were also always lesser nobles trying to raise their status through any means necessary, and a less than savory number of criminal organizations capitalizing on such behaviour. But everything existed within a delicate balance. A balance Dahlia had strived to maintain and slowly improve. Such things and trivial conflicts had existed since long before her reign. She was well aware of the Trillian faith''s rapid growth, but for them to be tied to a most despised military state was not something she could have imagined. And if what Kalin had said was all true, there would be no way for her to confront Adrian regarding the matter without offending him. All she could do was observe him for a time before coming to a decision.

    Screams from beyond the dining hall stole her attention. Kalin, half drunk, turned his head with a frown. The two men standing at the door drew their blades in an instant as something banged upon its surface from the opposite end. Dahlia could make out the voice of a screaming woman. She''s alive! She''s alive!

    Dahlia frowned. "Open the door," she commanded.

    Eildred stole a glance towards her before pulling open the door and leaping back in a ready stance, Rask doing the same. An aging woman took a few steps forward and fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Her pale blue tunic and white apron marked her as a physic. "She''s alive!" the woman cried, gasping for breath. "Ten year¡­poison. Lady Sar''tara¡­ Alive. Please! Lord Serene¡­help¡­"

 Chapter 47: Void (Volume 2, Chapter 10)

    <u>Chapter 10 - Void</u>

    Elizia looked down at her hands, exhaling through slightly parted lips and staring a long while at the scarred tissue of her fingertips. An archer''s hands. Her mother''s hand on her shoulder, teaching a girl of eight how to properly hold a bow, how to properly draw the string.

    "Stand straight," Sar''tara whispered. "Drawback to your ear. See your target. Feel the wind. Adjust. And loose."

    She loosed just before her mother, impatient but confident. The dull arrow from her child''s bow shot forward, soared, and then fell half a dozen feet before her. Her mother''s arrow pierced the target board''s center.

    "I can''t pull back to my ear," Elizia complained. "The wood''s too hard."

    Sar''tara smiled down at her.

    ***

    Elizia''s blinked while squinting. Morning light pierced through draped windows, illuminating dust particles. She shivered. Ice entered her body through her back. She shifted around, annoyed at the sticky feeling all over her skin. Her sheets were drenched with sweat. She tried pushing herself upright, rubbing her eyes to clear the edges of her vision, realizing her hands were still bandaged. They restricted the movement of her fingers. Seeing as how her hands no longer hurt, she began pulling the bandages off. Hardly a mark remained where her skin had torn from her own foolishness.

    Elizia turned to set aside the bandages. She jumped, heart nearly bursting out of her chest. A grey haired woman sat not a foot away from her bed, smiling. "Master Meredith, how long¡­"

    "All night, child," the physic answered.

    "Right. Of course," Elizia mumbled. The woman was one of many skilled physicians under her father''s employ. As the most learned in the craft, she''d become the garrison''s head physic in recent years. She was a teacher to Elizia. "How long have I¡ª"

    "Several days."

    Several days¡­? She had been bedridden for several days since coming down with a fever. She looked around the familiar room, noticing Emeria and Azurus wrapped in blankets, huddled in one corner with their eyes closed. Emeria''s head rested on Azurus'' shoulder. They''d been worried. Elizia smiled. It slowly turned into a frown. She recognized the many mahogany wardrobes ¡ªmost of which were empty¡ª and the white walls from which paintings of gardens and forests hung as not one she was used to. "This isn''t Arcaeus. Its Metsiphon¡­ They carried me back and¡ª Mother''s funeral! When¡ª"

    "Yesternight," said Meredith, her face grim.

    "But the Song of Eagles. I didn''t sing it," Elizia mentioned, voice cracking and tears forming.

    "Her majesty the queen was present. She sung it in your stead." Meredith reached over and touched Elizia''s forehead before wiping away her tears. "It isn''t burning at least. You might need more rest. I''ll ask your maid to have your sheets changed. And clothes too. Let me see your hands."

    Elizia complied, staying silent and looking down. She was wearing a loose white nightgown. Her eyes grew heavy again.

    "Hardly a mark," Meredith whispered, as if not believing it. "You''d practically sheared part of your own flesh. You may not Heal as quick as Lady Sar''tara, but it is still impressive compared to the average person. You have her blood after all. Your fingertips are rough just as your mother''s are, but the rest of your hand is still soft like a gentle maiden''s." Meredith brushed Elizia''s hair. "Elizia, your mother is alive¡­"

    "What¡­?" she breathed.

    "Alive," Meredith repeated. "But unwell. It took me a while to recognize it. We studied the arrow she''d been shot with, scraping off remnants of the poison. It is something called the ten year poison. Or more commonly labelled Decade''s Curse. I believe we glanced over it during my teachings. You know what it does, do you not?"

    Elizia nodded, barely paying attention. Alive. That word rung in her ears. Her mother was alive. She had to go and see ¡ªshe frowned. "But you said her funeral¡­"

    "We took her out of the crypts."

    "Then I have to go see¡ª" Elizia stopped herself mid-sentence, hand clamping over her mouth. Decade''s Curse. Meredith''s lectures came back to her. The poison had no known cure. The afflicted remained in a coma for ten years before the poison claimed their life. No known cure¡­ No. There had to be one. "Master, the medical books! We need to find a cure. There has to be a way recorded. We just haven¡¯t¡ª"

    "Child," Meredith said sternly. "Calm yourself. Fretting won''t do anyone any good. Rest assured the scribes and physics alike are scouring through records. Your father will be sending people out into the world in search for a cure." Meredith closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I know this may be hard to hear, but it may even take years before we find something. The least you can do is live well as your mother would have wanted you to, so that when she wakes, she can see what a lovely woman you''ve become."

    Elizia blinked. She stared at her master''s grim expression. Years. Years of living without her mother. Perhaps forever, even. Meredith looked withered, her sleep deprivation obvious. No. There was something else hidden in her eyes. Elizia swallowed. It was guilt. The physic didn¡¯t believe Sar''tara would ever wake. No known cure. She couldn''t lose hope. Ten years was a long time. There had to be a method somewhere in the world if not within Xenaria''s libraries. Her father would for sure be sending the best of scholars to seek the cure. It would come. Elizia just had to be patient. Her mother wasn''t dead. That''s what mattered. Be patient.

    And alone for ten long years¡­

    She looked away, unable to stop further tears. "How long has it been since they slept?" she asked with a broken voice, gesturing to her friends.

    "Not long. They were up more than half the night I believe. May have skipped dinner too."

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Then let them rest a while longer. I can wait. Ask Esper to bring something up to eat." Esper was her handmaiden, a woman of minor status assigned to Elizia a few years prior. A silent yet sweet woman with a short head of dark blonde. Esper often seemed upset at not having enough to do, seeing as how Elizia hardly spent any time doing things expected of a young lady.

    "As her highness wills," Meredith said. She rose and offered a slight bow before turning to leave.

    "Master Meredith?" Elizia called, wiping her eyes.

    "Mm?"

    "Thank you."

    "Tis my pleasure, child."

    Elizia offered a weak smile. The physician switched between addressing her as ''child'' and ''her highness'' often. Elizia didn''t mind. She never imposed her status over others. Meredith was her instructor when it came to learning the basics of a physic''s art, and Elizia regarded anyone with more knowledge than her as a superior. She had become adept at sewing wounds, changing bandages, and had knowledge of a few minor medicines useful out on the battlefield.

    The door clicked shut behind Meredith. All was silent.

    Draw the string to your ear. Feel the wind. Adjust and¡­ Elizia cried again, soaking her open palms. She closed her hands and felt the tears against her rough fingertips. "I have so much to learn still. You''ve so much more to teach me¡­ Please wake up." She rose from her bed and pulled back the thin drapes veiling a young sun, her shadow extending behind her. She opened the window, breathing in fresh air. A chill breeze cooled the wet upon her cheeks. "I''ll surpass you, mother," she vowed. "I''ll make you and father proud. I swear it by the Eternal Flames. When you wake, you''ll see a different person." Or, if fortune served, Sar''tara would awaken soon.

    Elizia shut the window, rubbing her arms. Winter temperatures were approaching sooner than welcome. Someone groaned behind her. Emeria was stirring awake, frowning with her eyes shut and rubbing her neck. Her swollen eyelids and slight puffed cheeks made her pretty face look as if she were an adorable child. She squinted at the empty bed. "El?"

    "I''m here, Emma. I''m better now. Thanks for watching over me."

    "Yeah," the crown princess said, awkwardly staring into open space. She stood up and stretched out. Her stomach growled. She blushed.

    "Hungry?"

    Emeria nodded. "El, listen. If¡ª"

    "None of that, Emma," Elizia said, quickly wiping her eyes again before Emeria''s vision cleared. "Nothing''s changed between us. I''m done crying." More tears welled as if rebelling against her words.

    "If you say so." Someone knocked at the door and Emeria clumsily walked to open it. Esper, wearing a plain grey tunic, pushed in a cart full of warm food prepared well in advance of Elizia''s request. The handmaiden bowed low, uttering befitting greetings. Esper''s expression brightened upon seeing Elizia walking about. Her master''s continued Health prolonged her employment after all.

    Esper pushed the cart to the center of the room. She tucked her already short hair behind her ear, keeping her gaze fixated on the ground. "If my ladies need anything more, I''ll be standing outside by the door."

    Elizia nodded. She walked over to the cart and frowned just as her handmaiden exited the bedchamber. Loaves of fresh bread along with jars of butter and jam, and poached eggs. As well as a variety of fruits not native to Metsiphon''s surrounding regions ¡ªthe only exception being peaches as two trees stood in the manor''s gardens planted by Elizia''s parents on their wedding night. Her mother had told that story a few times.

    "Perhaps I should give father an earful for the needlessly lavish food. No doubt he''s already heard that I''m awake," Elizia muttered. Anything to remember her mother. Anything to preserve her memory. She bit her lip. Anything to drive away that bottomless pit in her chest that said ten years would pass and the cure would remain unfound.

    "And knows I''m in here too," Emeria said, adding a clearly forced giggle. Azurus stirred from his sleep. It took him a few breaths to realize the royal heir wasn''t at his side and Elizia was missing from her bed. He snapped to his feet, barely changing his expression at the pain from muscles that were undoubtedly stiff, hand half drawing the sword at his waist ¡ªwhich he carried always. The sheet around him fell to his feet, revealing a laced shirt wrought with wrinkles. He relaxed when seeing the missing two standing a few feet away from him. Elizia found some heart to laugh, Emeria laughing alongside her.

    "What''s so funny?" the young man asked, his morning voice haggard. He scratched at his wavy hair.

    "Oh nothing, my sweet knight," the royal princess said. "Come. Let''s eat. Luckily, there aren''t any vegetables for you to baby about."

    Azurus shook his head but kept silent.

    They seated themselves on the bed, Elizia sitting opposite her friends. She helped herself to what she wanted, though having a very limited appetite. The young knight did the same. Emeria on the other hand, waited expectantly for Azurus to serve her, smiling with approval as he selected her favorites. "So when''s the wedding?" Elizia asked, trying to keep her thoughts away from despair.

    "Who''s wedding?" Emeria returned.

    "Yours, silly."

    "With who?"

    Elizia raised an eyebrow. "Really now? I''m not stupid, Emma. You''d probably sit in his lap and let him feed you if I weren''t here.

    "I most certainly would not!" the First Princess declared. Azurus turned away, pale cheeks ablaze. "There is nothing happening between my knight and I."

    The boy''s lips twitched in obvious disappointment at those words.

    "Mhm. Then you''re fine if I take him? Father has high regards for someone of his skill. I''m sure our children would be Healthy too. He would definitely approve if I asked¡ª"

    "No way! That''s¡ª I mean¡­" Emeria was at a loss for words. Her own face had become quite rouge. She took hold of her knight''s hand. "Fine. I admit it. I love him and he loves me. What of it?"

    "Nothing," Elizia said, shrugging. "I just wanted to see you flustered. And wondered if Azurus had spine enough to speak for himself. You do remember my mother''s last words to you, don''t you?"

    "That¡ª yes. I wouldn''t forget Lady Sar''tara''s words," Azurus said. "I love Emma too."

    "Hahhhh, I can practically feel the heat from both of your faces," Elizia teased. She dramatically placed a hand on her forehead. "Such blazing passion. So romantic. I shall hire a bard to craft a story!"

    Emeria glared at her.

    Elizia felt a pang of guilt. She didn''t mean to berate them. "I''m sorry. I''m just¡­"

    "Feeling alone?" Azurus asked.

    She slowly nodded, shocked at how simply he managed to describe her emotions.

    "It''s normal," he said. "After losing someone, you try finding happy emotions wherever you can. Possibly demeaning others to make yourself feel better¡­ I''m not saying that''s what you just did," he quickly added. "But just know that we will always be here for you, El. We''re your friends."

    Elizia nodded again. Azurus was an orphan. Picked off from the streets of Exaltyron''s Impoverished District at a young age by the current captain of the Queen''s Guard. He had never shared his story before. He likely didn''t want to.

    "Did I maybe behave rudely after father passed?" Emeria asked.

    "If you did, I''ve already forgotten it," he replied.

    Elizia looked away. She hadn''t been there to console the First Princess when her father the king, Madrivall Aegis, passed of an illness a few years prior. Emeria was at the capital then. When visiting Arcaeus again a few months following that incident, she seemed her normal self, cheery and competitive.

    "Mother isn''t dead," she whispered. The others looked to her, frowning. She explained what had happened. No one spoke following that, eating away their breakfast in silence. An unease hung in the air. A void where despair echoed just as Elizia''s chest. She felt as if the food she swallowed was stuck at the base of her throat.

    She closed her eyes. She had friends ¡ªwonderful friends. And her father as well. She wasn''t alone. At the end of it all, Elizia found herself chewing at the edge of her fork, unsure of how to say something that''d been sitting at the edge of her thoughts. "Promise me that we''ll always be friends," she finally managed, the words coming out in a whisper. Emeria and Azurus were setting empty dishes back on the cart. They turned at her soft voice.

    "Of course," Azurus said.

    "Always, El," Emeria agreed.

    Elizia smiled. She placed her own plate on the cart, then walked out of the room barefoot to go see her mother, hoping desperately that maybe, just maybe, Sar''tara would awake that very morning, and all would be well and return to normal.

 Chapter 48: Dhorjun (Volume 2, Chapter 11)

    <u>Chapter 11 - Dhorjun</u>

    Theodore gnawed at the mouth of a near empty bottle as a hungry wolf gnaws on fleshless bones, drawing an annoyed eye from the barkeep ¡ªa dark skinned woman with braided hair and gold earrings on her left ear. Her dress differed from most women in Eurale, a one piece grey outfit ¡ªor what seemed one piece¡ª that wrapped around her skin in folds, leaving only the full length of her arms bare. If it shimmered, one might easily dismiss it as plate armor from a distance as Eurale''s soldiers dressed in plate with arms bare. Theo exhaled, swirling around the remaining drops in his bottle.

    "Would you like another bottle, Master Coraine?" the woman asked, her accent thick like Agram''s. "I''ll have it poured into that one, seeing as how you kiss it like it''s your lover."

    "The drink, Aki, is my lover. Not the bottle."

    "Ah, so you are cheating on the drink. Well, I can see the appeal that a long neck of a bottle may have when tending to certain pleasures."

    Theo scowled, downing the remaining wine and sliding the glass across the wood counter towards Aki. She inspected the mouth, shrugged, and placed it in a crate of other empty bottles. The bar, dark as it was, had few customers. A handful of rugged deckhands from The Salamander and regular city drunks spouting nonsense in a candlelit corner. Most of Theo''s crew didn''t fancy drinking in the middle of the day. One could hardly tell it was day. Not a single window had been carved into the sand building. Outside light barely poked in through a gap between the wooden entrance and a grainy floor.

    Aki turned her back to Theo, leaning against the counter and polishing bottles of his export. He watched the arching lines of her upper arm move back and forth, narrowing his eyes at the size of her triceps. She twirled a bottle in her fingers with a relaxed expertise, not caring in the slightest for the object''s fragility. Candlelight reflected from its smooth and dark surface. Satisfied, she placed the bottle back on a shelf. "How can you see any blemishes with such little light," Theo mused, waving his arms as he imagined a drunk man would.

    "Master Dhorjun might not even come, you know," Aki said, ignoring the question. She crossed her arms and rested them on the counter. Three separate lines of muscle ran along both forearms. "He''s a busy man. Been sailing back and forth and taking trips to the other kingdoms of the Alliance. Last I heard, he was going to Katur. Fancies himself more a merchant these days than a soldier."

    Theo was convinced the barkeep had experience in combat. "Does he now? That brute?" Aki shrugged in response. "You a soldier, Aki? Or were? I don''t imagine you get arms like those rubbing bottles all day."

    "These hands can do more than just bottle rubbing."

    Theo raised an eyebrow. "I have a wife. You know that."

    "And yet that doesn''t stop you from calling a drink your lover. I''m not talking about you. That man, back there. The one with glass eyes. What''s his name?"

    Theodore turned around. Sitting near the entrance was his bookkeeper, Fiernz. A boy barely seventeen, though he looked more thirteen with his short and frail stature. He wore a pair of spectacles before his poor eyes. He was terribly quick with numbers, making that his only advantage. "That''s your taste? It''s¡­ peculiar. His name''s Fiernz. About seventeen I think."

    Aki snorted. "Men don''t know other men. It''s always the shy and smart ones that please the best. And they aren¡¯t indecent enough to get diseased in pleasure houses." She went back to polishing bottles, stealing glances at the bookkeeper. "I was a soldier. Got bored of sitting on my rear all day. Not much fighting to be done since the Alliance formed a few centuries ago."

    "Those in peace don''t value it until it is stolen," Theo mumbled. Aki didn¡¯t seem to hear. "A female soldier, hmm? Is that normal, here in the deserts? I''ve never had much a mind to care."

    "Normal? Soldiers are weapons. If a weapon is useful, it is used. If a soldier is strong, they are used. I am strong enough to be a soldier. And so I was allowed to be a soldier." She looked Theo up and down. "I''ll bet the next shipment''s worth of your wine that I can use your sword better than you."

    "Aki," Theo insisted, "I have a wife." The woman frowned, her thin eyebrows bending like drawn waves. She snapped her head and brought her braids over a shoulder, revealing gold beads tied at the ends. Theo was left wondering how much soldiers were paid in Eurale for Aki to have just up and quit and have enough to open a bar by the docks. Of course, her business relied mostly on him.

    "Are you not bored? I''ll duel you on your ship before your men. Next shipment of wine as a wager. Help pass the time while we wait for Master Dhorjun. What say you, Lord Coraine?"

    Theo sighed. He would''ve leaned back had he sat on a chair. The tall stool had no back upon which to lean. He ran his hand down the length of his goatee, throat feeling parched again. "I never enter a fight I cannot win," he said.

    Aki placed another polished bottle on the shelf, finishing an entire row. They sat there like an organized rank of Xenarian Queen''s Guard, dark and full of spirit. "So the rumored Theodore Twincrescent is just a coward?" she asked.

    "My dear Aki, that was me providing advice. What happens when you inevitably lose and then pay a full five crates worth of Red Vine vintage? You''ll be forced to stock your bar with cheap ale. And as a regular when I visit Eurale, I''ll be forced to drink it. You ought to think five steps ahead. This is why soldiers are soldiers and commanders are commanders." Theo looked up at the ceiling. "Or maybe you thought of all of this and were ready to use those hands of yours to earn something extra."

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Aki twisted her mouth, tapping an impatient finger against the wood of the counter. "I relent, Master Theodore. You are a strange one. I thought I was the one doing the goading¡­ Hence why I am ¡ªwas¡ª a mere soldier and not a commander. That is fair advice. I will consider it."

    "Deception is the primary principle of war. And imagination, the shield against its treacherous double edge. To do what is unexpected and to imagine what is unexpected are what forms the basics of what we call conflict." Theo pulled out a silver half. "Give me something non-alcoholic to drink. My throat feels like sand."

    Aki hummed at the non-alcoholic part. She shrugged and poured a clear liquid into a mug from a barrel.

    Theo looked down at his own reflection once handed the mug, frowning. "Water?"

    "I don''t carry juice. Or milk. And coconuts only grow on Kovar''s white beaches. Hardly any finds its way to us. I tried buying coconut water once. Was charged double what you charge me for one of your best bottles."

    Theo scratched his head. The bottles he sold to the bars and taverns in Eurale were of lesser quality than the one he gifted to King Agram. Aged between five and ten years, they went for gold halves with most commoners paying mere silver pences for a fractions worth of drink after a night of downing cheap ale at dockside taverns. "A full gold crown for a single coconut?"

    Aki nodded.

    Kovar was Coraine territory. The city''s viceroy was to report all its business back to Theodore. "I''ll be it. Maybe I should look into growing that instead of selling wines and wares." Someone needs a little reprimanding it seems.

    The bar was suddenly blasted with a wave of light as the wood door was shoved open, twisting all the way and striking the wall beside it with a loud bang. Aki scowled, likely hoping the door wasn''t damaged as thumping footsteps approached the front counter. The newcomer took a seat beside Theodore, brandishing thick and hairy arms as if they were cudgels before setting them on the counter. In fact, Dhorjun preferred using cudgels as weapons. The smell of seawater and sweat surrounded him. "Thought I''d find you here," his deep voice boomed. "You''re not long for here are you? Your sailors are all lounging about, waiting t''leave."

    "No. I was just here waiting for you," Theo said, barely glancing towards Eurale''s naval commander.

    Dhorjun beamed. "Great. Then we can share a drink fore you go!"

    "Not likely," Aki said, placing a dark bottle before the large man. He slid her a gold coin in return. "Master Theodore has already finished drinking. I''ve never seen him completely consumed by alcohol. Something, something, he''s a commander, and not a soldier."

    "Scorching shame then. Even the mighty Shuari gets drunk. Course that''s when sandstorms roll around. Well? What''d you want to discuss?"

    Theo turned to face Dhorjun. He wore a great black mane around his sun tanned pale skin. "The girl. The Estraean with a head of flame. I''ll buy her from you for ten crowns."

    "Ah! Now that you mention it, I was supposed to go pick her up from the king. That thirteen year old, yes? Or was she fourteen? Still wears a child''s face though having a decent figure. She looks like she might have good selling value in a few years. I''ve been fancying myself somewhat of a merchant these da¡ª"

    "Fifty crowns."

    Dhorjun''s eyes narrowed. "Don''t tell me yer into little gi¡ª"

    "Seventy!"

    "To think I''d see two grown men fight for a thirteen year old girl," Aki mentioned offhandedly. Both men ignored her, staring at each other instead. She slowly pulled back the bottle she had set down whilst pocketing the payment for it.

    "Shuari''s Flaming grave, Theodore. I''ll give her to you for a warship."

    "I''m not giving you one of my vessels!" Theo said as he crossed his arms.

    "Then five shipwrights for the girl! You obviously know what she can do."

    Theo considered for a long hard moment. Five shipwrights was certainly a worthy trade. It wasn''t as if those men would be enslaved. Dhorjun would put them to work. To work¡­ on building a warship the likes of which Xenaria possesses? Theo''s eyebrows came close together. "You want to expand your military power."

    "Don''t look at me like that, old friend. Agram''s no doubt expressed his worries to you. About these Trillians and the Sun City. I want to be prepared. And ready to retaliate if need be. Expect the unexpected. That''s one of your philosophies is it not?"

    "Imagine the unexpected," Theo corrected. And that''s only half of it. Something about the way Dhorjun said ''friend'' didn''t sit right with Theo. They''d known each other for years. Dhorjun had often referred to him as a friend. But it always felt more natural than it did just now¡­ Because he''d always said it under the influence. Why is it I remember that? His breath didn''t smell of alcohol. Dhorjun was completely sober. And he spoke proper rather than broken when he first came into the bar. Theo turned away. "I can''t give you my shipwrights."

    "Flames. Scorching Flames, Theodore. You don''t even trust allies. Do you want the girl or not?"

    "I don''t have allies. I have business partners and vested interests. The seas are treacherous, my father used to say. But not even the waves under a thunder wrought black sky can match the stupidest of humans when it comes to treachery. Good day, old friend. Let us hope the Sun City doesn''t press our hands. If they do, I''ve already promised Agram to ride, er, I mean sail to your aid."

    "Drunk Shuari forbid they attack," Dhorjun mumbled as Theo rose and walked out.

    Fancies himself a merchant, eh? Theo glanced back at the counter as he pulled open the door, left hand resting on the pommel of his cutlass. Aki''s golden earrings sparkled as outside light spilled inside again. Her dark eyes were staring at him and shot down the moment he met her gaze. Theo clicked his tongue. Schemes everywhere. He snapped his fingers and his crew stood up and followed him outside.

    A new ship was docked next to the Salamander. Its sails were black with gold weavings in the center that made it seem as if three pristine tears had been made in them through which sunlight flowed. The Three Rends. The markings of the Sand God, Shuari. For when a desert storm struck, two more always followed in quick succession. Eurale''s official banner was that of a radiant sun over sand dunes, and yet its naval commander used a religious symbol to mark his ship.

    Theo examined the vessel as he walked to his own. A sleek design with horizontal black lines painted at the sides. Its sails were wider than its width. The ship was built for speed rather than naval war. Its sides were lined with small ballistae. They weren''t as threatening to large ships as the powerful iron bolt firing ballistae that Xenarian warships possessed. Iron bolts the likes of which were the size of five spears bunched together and thrice as heavy.

    Etched into the side of the ship was the name The Virulence. An odd name for a vessel, Theo thought. His eyes fell upon a bald man wearing a long black coat, standing at the bow, staring down at him. Dhorjun''s first mate and right hand. A calculating man who went by the name Crow. A man of Xenarian descent by his looks. Theo averted his eyes and walked brazenly up the steps of the gangplank attached to his own ship, his long coat fluttering behind him.

    "Raise anchor! Set sail for Qalydon!" he called. He looked one last time upon the black striped ship as the Salamander set off. Crow was no longer staring at him, but rather the warship as if trying to glean its inner workings through observation alone. Even if he could, only a shipwright''s eyes would be capable of accurately dismantling its construction.

    The Euralites were bent on expanding their military strength. Or at least Dhorjun was. Agram didn''t seem too intent on it. Or perhaps he was. Imagine the unexpected.

 Chapter 49: Unexpected Grey (Volume 2, Chapter 12)

    <u>Chapter 12 - Unexpected Grey</u>

    Bells were rung as the Salamander lowered anchor at the docks of Qalydon. Theodore gazed hard at the ceiling of his cabin, absentminded, unaware that he''d reached home. He poked his tongue with the tip of a toothpick half out of his mouth. Legs raised on the table set before him, one crossed over the other, and hands at the back of his head, he exhaled. He glanced at the sea charts nailed to the cabin walls. Some had been drawn by him, others by his father before him. All of them detailed to the bone. Though, they lacked a certain artistic elegance. An elegance that a girl a third his age happened to have.

    Theo closed his eyes and imagined the maps that Eksa had drawn. They were a luxury. He knew that. A piece of merchandise placed by store windows to draw buyers in, though the items on display would always be out of their budget.

    Except, nothing was out of Theodore Coraine''s budget.

    As one of the richest of all men in Xenaria, Theo was willing to pay a hundred gold crowns for Eksa. But Dhorjun wouldn''t place a monetary price on the girl. He knew her value. And he knew what he wanted in return. Something Theo could never give. Allies or not, the last thing anyone with half a mind would do is provide a means through which to increase a neighbour''s military strength. "When in possession of unused strength, a lesser man will always seek to use it," Theo muttered, toothpick falling out of his mouth. The words of his father, Alvatore Coraine. Alvatore equated handing strength to neighbors to be the equivalent of treason. "Never do anything that would empower those around you. That strength will inevitably one day be turned against you. Or, if not you, then future generations."

    Indeed father. Agram was a wise king. But he was old and losing control of his kingdom. There would be no guarantee that Agram''s successor would be of like mind. Theo''s only interest was in protecting his business and ensuring Xenaria''s coastal safety. He didn''t owe anyone anything otherwise.

    And yet, his decision still didn''t sit right with him. Talent had no price. Talent was a rough jewel un-appraised. Whether it would turn out to be valuable after being cut and buffed, only time would tell. Eksa had more talent than Theo had seen within any cartographer or captain. Not only did she have a delicate pencil hand, but also a high intellect in simulated naval battles. Theo was left wondering if he made the correct decision. The girl was bound to be a captain one day should Dhorjun make proper use of her. Was it truly wise to leave such a dangerous piece to a neighboring nation for a mere five shipwrights?

    His thoughts were interrupted by loud bangs on the door. It took him a few breaths to realize the ship was no longer moving. The banging continued, the sound ringing in his ears. "Yes, yes, I''m coming you Flaming salt buckets!" he shouted, scratching his head. He opened the door, scowling. "Flames burn y¡ª Tilda?"

    "No, no. Continue," the black haired woman said, her mellow, sun kissed complexion red with fury. "Flames burn whom, exactly?"

    "Er, no one," he said as she pushed past him. Her loose black dress flowed freely with her movements as if it were a mist surrounding her. She had her hair tied in a bun with a long silver pin running through it and a silver choker around her neck with an opal embedded within. Tilda was near ten years his younger and the eldest born of House Eirille, a moderately wealthy house standing a small step beneath High House Coraine in status.

    Theo, absorbed in business and sailing, didn''t bother courting women. As he approached his mid-thirties, Tilda had taken it upon herself to catch his attention, and though he did start growing attached to her, he never tried doing anything for her in return. Until she one day declared that they were getting married and forced him to go along with it.

    She put her hands on her hips, eyes scouring the messy cabin. She sniffed the air, frowning, obviously disappointed by the smell of alcohol. "What are you looking for?" he asked.

    "A mistress!" she screamed. Sailors down the hall turned their heads at her voice.

    "A mistress? When I have you?" Theo said, taken aback. He placed his hands on her slender waist. She swatted them away and folded her hands, idly touching the plain gold wedding ring on her ring finger.

    "What else could possibly have you so occupied? The ship docked at midday. It''s well past now! You always up and leave for the desert without so much as a word. I''m sure you''ve got a woman over there!" Tilda glared up at Theo.

    He opened his mouth to defend himself but her expression softened. She sighed and shook her head, hands now down at her sides. He tilted his head in curiosity.

    "Just fess up. I won''t be mad. I understand it''s normal. But mother''s been wondering why she doesn''t have any grandchildren yet. We''ve been married for three years already, Theo."

    He swallowed. Tilda gave a soft, seductive smile. The kind he learned to fear from since their wedding night. She never called him ''Theo'' unless completely enraged. He took in a deep breath, hoping to calm her with a joke. "Well, there is this flame haired girl I''m interested in¡­" he said, glancing into space and then back at her to see her reaction. He knew he''d erred as her pretty face changed into something unknown. He felt as if he were watching Lilith Lilac turn into Griva. He backed away, hands raised in apprehension. "Hold on! She''s only about twelve and a slave."

    An error exaggerated. Flames Theodore, but you''re stupid!

    He opened his mouth to speak again but Tilda grabbed him by the goatee. He yelped, bending down to avoid the pain. She kicked his legs out from beneath him and slammed his face into the wooden floor boards. "Serves you right! I''ll have to let mother know that she won''t be holding grandchildren anytime soon!"

    Theo groaned and rolled over, feeling his nose, glad that it wasn''t broken. Blood trickled down to his lips. "It was a joke, Tilda," he said. "I wanted to buy the girl. She draws charts better than me."

    "Did you?"

    "Did I what?" he asked with a high pitched voice, clutching his nose. The way an expression of genuine regret so quickly replaced her anger when hearing that it was just a joke left him puzzled.

    "Did you buy the girl?"

    "No¡­ She''s Estraean. Daughter of an explorer I think. Admiral Dhorjun already has her. He wanted a warship in return. You know how I feel about that."

    "A warship for a person? A mere child no less?"

    He slowly rose to his feet. His shin hurt more than his bleeding nose. Tilda was wearing iron tipped boots. That meant she''d recently been fencing. She was both an amazing fencer and arguably the best dancer in the realm. She valued her toes to the point of having specially made shoes to protect them when fencing. "Shuari knows she was worth it. I still feel regret. Her maps were a work of art. Her strategies and knowledge on par with most of my captains. Bah. No use crying over spilled milk."

    Tilda held out a black handkerchief. "Don''t do that. Don''t take the name of pagan gods lest the Creator smite you out of jealousy. Clean yourself and get home. There''s news from Duke Serene," she said, expression darkening. "And you have a visitor waiting for you at the Trillian temple."

    "Trillia is also a pagan god," Theo said, holding up the rose scented handkerchief to his nose.

    "To each their own. Misguided though they may be. I pray the Creator''s Flames guide them to the true path." Tilda walked down the narrow hall and ascended the steps to the ship''s deck.

    Theodore followed after her. He pulled out a bottle from within his coat only to find that it was empty. He clicked his tongue and ascended to deck, squinting as sunlight greeted him. Gulls hovered above, crying out with consistence as small waves crashed against the rocky shores of Qalydon. Four other warships were docked at the port alongside smaller trading vessels. The other three quarters of Theo''s navy sailed about in the Aegis Basin and along Xenaria''s western coasts in constant patrol or to escort ships carrying expensive wares. Some carried cargo themselves if the escorted ship didn''t have enough space.

    Theo descended down the steps of a long gangplank and marched after his wife, a pair of guards with pointed helms and chainmail following after her. Another woman soon fell in line after Tilda. Theo squinted for a better view. A new handmaiden by the looks. Tilda''s temper had driven away four different handmaidens since their wedding three years ago. He shook his head. He pocketed the handkerchief once the blood had stopped, twisting his nose at the smell of iron and rose mingling together.

    The Salamander''s sailors hovered near dockside taverns and brothels. Its soldiers had mostly returned to the city''s barracks with a few lounging on the ship still and others following their lord from a distance, keeping their eyes out for anything strange. They were good men. Theo kept their pockets full, paying his navy one and a half times more than the royal mandate. In turn, they worked doubly as hard for him, not hesitating to spend long trips on water and away from their families. He had no trouble affording the costs and didn''t have nearly the same amount of soldiers as Duke Serene either. How long has it been since I last saw Kalin? Or dueled him for that matter?

    Tilda boarded a carriage and waved towards Theo. "I''ll head to the temple first," he told her. She nodded and ordered the driver to go. He walked alongside the slow moving carriage for a while until it turned down a different lane of the cobbled streets, carrying away the sound of clopping horseshoes.

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    Qalydon''s tame streets cleared a path as its lord brazenly walked down the center of whichever lane he chose, his daring goatee recognizable from a distance. The city was by no means loud. It was Xenaria''s smallest city following Stoneport. Merchants, troupes and bottom feeders didn''t clutter the streets and alleys. Any troupes and performers coming through were the reputable sort, usually commissioned by Theo or another wealthy patron. Merchants were normally only seaborne traders. Urchins and beggars didn''t exist in Qalydon. Theo made sure his citizens were well fed and shady figures were kept out. Everyone in Qalydon had a roof, and all of those roofs stood atop stone houses.

    He came upon the Trillian temple near the city''s gates. An angular structure of stone that would¡¯ve looked no different from the warehouses at the docks had it not been for a statue of Goddess Trillia carved into the front just beneath the triangular roof. Arched wooden gates bore a three petal flower. The trillium flower ¡ªthe temple''s official sigil.

    Theo crinkled his nose. Even from the temple steps, he could smell the flowery incense oozing out the open doorway. He wasn''t overly fond of the Trillians. Their clergymen and priests tended to be men of young age. Most with lean bodies hidden beneath baggy white robes. He had originally been opposed to the temple''s construction. Tilda had convinced him otherwise if but only to appease his people. The religion had spread faster than anticipated. Theo had done what he could in conducting background checks on all who served the temple. Nothing odd came up.

    But he dared not imagine that anyone was ever truly clean.

    He climbed the temple steps and entered. "Flaming pagans," he muttered beneath his breath. So far as he was concerned, the faith had spread on slandering the Eternal Flames. The Flames carried a negative connotation. Everyone assumed them tainted after the Flame Bearers had gone astray. Time had erased old history. The Flames were a gift from the Creator. Even if they were now tainted, the Laws of the Eternal Flames were still worth following. Instead, people''s faith waned and at the arrival of a new religion, their faith shattered completely and they turned to paganism. Theo couldn''t fault them. Most humans were simpler creatures than they would have themselves believe.

    Chandeliers bearing pale blue luminite hung from wooden supports holding up the roof. The interior basked in a cool light like an unshrouded night sky. And yet, Theo couldn''t help but feel that everything was grey. Mostly everything, save for the wooden benches, were grey. Qalydon itself was grey. Stone streets. Stone buildings. Normally clouded skies that too often carried rain. But this was different. The luxurious light, the sweet scent and the golden crown of trillium flowers sitting atop a life-sized statue of Trillia at the end of the temple''s long hall all felt as if it were compensating for something. For a grey, lifeless taste that hung at the edge of Theo''s lips. A wholly unnatural feeling that he couldn''t put into words. Perhaps it was simply his distaste for pagan faiths.

    Theo walked down the center aisle of the temple, rows of wooden benches on either side of him. Few people sat and prayed with their hands clasped, uttering praises for an inanimate idol. At the end of the aisle, just before Trillia''s statue, sat a bright haired man in a wheeled seat. He stared up at the idol as if admiring a lost lover. "Don''t tell me they left you alone here?" Theo asked, coming to stand beside the young man. His ropey hair just barely touched his shoulders. More than a few strands hung before his face to veil his lifeless, grey eyes and dark circles beneath.

    "My servants are resting at an inn," the man answered. "I''ve asked them to leave me here, seeing as how your ship was spotted returning earlier this morning."

    "And what if I had decided to go home instead of visiting the temple? I''ll bet a fine bottle that your servants didn''t once come back to check on you. You ought to be more strict with them, Luka."

    Luka shrugged. Eldest born of High House Galadin, Luka was treated with the utmost disrespect. He had been born a cripple. A boy without functioning legs. "They talk ill of me behind my back anyway. Though I don¡¯t see them, I can feel the frowns they hide behind their smiles. Being alone gives me peace of mind. More so in a holy place. Besides, I know your personality well, Lord Coraine. You prefer to handle annoyances with utmost haste."

    Holy place¡­ Tch! "Annoyance. That''s a rather snide way of putting it. I hadn''t known it was you that was waiting for me here. But I''ll admit. This is an annoyance. And you''re a Galadin."

    "Good. Honesty is better than slander. Galadin huh? I suppose I''d have turned out just as pompous and¡­ haughty as my father and younger brother had I usable legs. Perhaps being a cripple is a blessing in disguise. This way, I can devote my thoughts and time to Trillia."

    "As if. No cripple thinks their condition a blessing."

    "True indeed," Luka said, not laughing at all.

    Theo glanced down at the man. He doubted there was much in the world that could provide Luka with any joy. A thick tome rested in his lap. It was titled Wings of Liberty. The story of Kaelric the Swift; An adventurous king who was envious of birds. Throughout his many travels, Kaelric constantly searched for a means through which man could fly. In the end, the closest he claimed man came to flying was sailing, thus naming the sails of ships the ''wings of man''. A popular tale amongst sailors that even illiterates were bound to hear of in a dockside tavern at least once in their lifetime. "What are you here for, Luka?"

    "Sightseeing I suppose. To see the blue skies through which sailors soar¡­" Luka ran a hand along the tome''s cover. "Bah! Crying inside''s never changed my situation. I doubt it will now."

    And praying will, Theo almost asked aloud. All the man had left was faith, incorrect as his faith may be. "What news from your territories?"

    "Father''s increasing iron prices again. Doubt this makes a difference to you."

    Theo nodded thoughtfully. He paid a fortune to obtain ironsand that sometimes arrived in the deserts after a sandstorm. Beyond the maps of Illusterra, some in the south believed that deep within the Mahjur Deserts lay the lair of the Desolate God Shuari, whose domain was made entirely of black sand. In reality, black sand was just rich in iron. Pagans used it in their rituals, sprinkling black sand around their homes and even in their boots when out travelling, hoping that it would protect them from sandstorms. Ironsand made for higher quality items. "Does he have a reason to be increasing price?"

    "Hardly," Luka coughed. "His excuse is the ever increasing amount of darkspawn in the underground iron mines. Imps and ratmen and the like. I''ve spoken to some of our soldiers. There hasn''t been an increase. It''s all just the same. Father is incredibly thorough. He''s been sending less experienced soldiers into the mines, resulting in more injuries. These soldiers have started labelling the creatures as ''undead'' out of their own incompetence. Rumors and fears starting from taverns began spreading to homes and streets¡­"

    "Creating a justifiable reason for increasing price?" Theo asked, stroking his goatee.

    "Aye. If only the old fool was that thorough in righteous acts rather than wallowing in his own greed. He''s raised taxes on the populous as well. Brother at least protests that, or makes a show of it before the grieved I suspect." Luka closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Strange, isn''t it? Me complaining about my father. Being a cripple has changed my outlook on life. Helped me find guidance through the Goddess. Often, I''ll wish I had wings when I don''t even have legs. And sometimes I''m grateful for being a cripple. Perhaps I''d be as twisted as my father if I did turn out normal. Perhaps I''d have never found the Goddess Trillia. I pray that this backfires on father. Pray that the people''s fears leads them toward religion."

    Theo''s mouth twitched. More pagans? Luka''s words had hidden steel behind them. Something about those still following the Flames as being heretics. And perhaps dissatisfaction from my own accumulation of mass wealth? "Should I push you towards your inn?" Theo asked, wanting to drag the conversation out no longer.

    Luka raised an eyebrow. "You have that much time?"

    "It''s either that or I go home and risk Tilda biting my head off."

    "Have you perchance heard any news from Lord Serene?"

    Theo shook his head. "No. Why?"

    "I see. It''d be best for you to get home quickly then. There''s a chance you''ll be rather busy for a time. Besides, it wouldn''t do for the city lord to be seen laboring, pushing a cripple through the streets. Send for one of your soldiers. I''ll make a few more prayers till then."

    Theo narrowed his eyes, studying the dreary man. Luka didn''t ask for his own servants to be sent. He feared their scorn. And it showed in his eyes. Not even the tranquil halls of Trillia''s temple could return light to such a jaded person. The halls were too grey. Theo nodded a farewell and left the lifeless temple. He asked for a soldier to escort Luka to his inn after a while before making his way to the Coraine Manse, wondering just what news awaited him.

    ***

    "Dying? What do you mean?" Theo asked, incredulous.

    "Exactly as it sounds," Tilda said, pen in hand, scribbling furiously over a sheet of paper. She was sitting in his study. A room she had practically claimed as her own.

    He rubbed his temples as he walked back and forth. Tilda set down her pen, flexing her fingers. She pulled out a handkerchief ¡ªthis one white¡ª and patted her smooth forehead. "This is the Sar''tara we''re talking about, yes? The one that vanquished the criminal guilds from Metsiphon, the one that fought off Kazir Windsinger, the one that killed fifty Ivory Hussars on her own?" Theo looked down at his fingers as if counting The Huntress'' deeds. "The one that slapped Lady Leena and thrashed her husband and father, the one that drank five whole pitchers of wine and then bested Lord Fez in a duel for insulting her honor, the one that poured wine down Lady Tine''s cleavage and then dislocated her husband''s jaw¡­ That ball had been particularly interesting."

    "Why? Because the poor, curvaceous Lady Tine had ended up near naked on the dance floor for it after trying to tear Lady Sar''tara dress off?"

    "Please, Tine was known to have bedded half the attendees at that ball, women included. She didn''t have much honor to lose and that parroting, insufferable cretin she called a husband earned some well deserved bruises."

    "Tine''s honor was not what I''d been asking after."

    "That same Sar''tara is now dying, you''re saying?" Theodore asked, changing back to the original subject.

    "Yes, that same woman you wouldn''t stop ogling at during her majesty''s wedding!" she snapped.

    "Tilda, we weren''t married then. You were thirteen."

    "Yes, but Lady Sar''tara was married."

    Theo turned away, sensing a losing argument.

    "I''ll forgive you this once. Even I found myself staring at her at times. Her¡­ daring dress choices and demeanor to match. Did you know I started fencing at the age of thirteen? Lady Serene was¡­" Tilda drifted off, glancing towards the gathering clouds through the many paneled window behind her.

    "Flames but that woman brought such color to otherwise drab parties. Why does everything turn to grey in this accursed world? She deserved to live for a hundred years more."

    "I''ve filled out a few supply and maintenance reports with estimated costs. Written a dozen letters as well. Feel free to check over them. I pray that the Eternal Flames guide us through the coming storm."

    "Storm?"

    "War," Tilda said, shifting through a pile of papers. She picked one and held it out to Theodore. "She''s been afflicted by the Decade''s Curse. And they found a message carved into her back. It makes me sick to even think of it. I don''t imagine Duke Serene and her majesty to forgive the Empire for this. Unless the rumors surrounding the distraught state of the royal court is to be believed. I''ve written out all I could think necessary so that we''re at the helm if war does erupt. No need to start sending the letters out before then."

    Theo nodded, reading through the letter. Ten year coma? Flames! He sighed, pretending calmness, crumpling the letter in one hand, his knuckles going white. It was all too unexpected. He scratched at his throat. "I need a drink."

 Chapter 50: Brown Hair (Book 2, Chapter 13)

    <u>Chapter 13 - Brown Hair</u>

    Two crows were perched on the branches of a barren tree, watching. They cawed.

    Agrienne''s boots crunched upon a thin sheet of snow. He rubbed his hands together, regretting not having brought a pair of gloves. No. Regretting having agreed to a walk so early in the morning. His breath came out in puffs of clouds that disappeared as quickly as the warm months of the year. Sowing season and summer lasted just long enough for people to admire their beauty, and then left, disappearing into the night like a fleeting maiden, leaving a gaping hole in the heart through which cold wind flowed. Just like my Lera¡­

    Agrienne hated the cold.

    Fingers pressed down on his bicep. He had forgotten about the person walking alongside him, their voice drowned by his crunching boots and the crows they''d left behind some time ago. The cawing still echoed in his mind.

    "Don''t you agree?" Valencia asked.

    "Hmm?" said Agrienne.

    "The snow. Isn''t it beautiful? Sparkling like a sea of white gems, a sweetness covering the ground just as frosting sugar on a cake."

    Agrienne glanced down at the baker''s daughter. Valencia stood a full head shorter than him. She was nearing thirty, if he recalled correctly. Not particular to his palate, but she''d served well as a stand in for Lera for a good half dozen years. The peasants were more at ease too, seeing him take a lowly lover. Her lush oak colored hair hung over one shoulder. She had a round face and a small nose, making her seem younger than she actually was. Beneath a thick cloak, Valencia wore a violet dress that Agrienne had gifted to her. A dress that hugged her curves ¡ªof which she had quite a satisfactory amount¡ª and reached down to her ankles, covering the tops of a pair of silver boots decorated with crystal gems ¡ªanother gift. Valencia was lovely. But she was no Lera. No one was. No one would be.

    Agrienne looked to the Caranel graveyard as the two of them crested a hill and approached his manor. "Yes. Very lovely," he said. He tried picking up the pace to the manor, the cold becoming rather unbearable. He had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering. Valencia tugged the sleeve of his royal blue coat, as if signaling him to slow down. Agrienne bit his tongue. Who are you to tell me what to do, he almost yelled. He looked down at the basket in Valencia''s other hand. A folded cloth covered what it held. "Isn''t the bread getting cold?" he asked. The girl normally brought him fresh bread every time she came for a visit.

    Valencia blushed. "I didn''t bring bread today, silly."

    Agrienne waited for her to tell him what she did bring. He rolled his eyes when she spoke no further, clenching fists, knuckles cracking. "What did you bring?" he hissed. It came out like a soft, loving whisper. It wasn''t his intent. But he was grateful for it.

    "Cakes! Tomorrow''s the harvest festival. Father''s already preparing for it. I snuck some out this morning. Just for you."

    "Ah." The festival. Agrienne had forgotten. He would be expected at the town of Red Vine tomorrow, if only to show his face and convince the peasants that all was well¡­ Turned out his half-sister, Noreen, had more favor with the commoners than he''d been aware of.

    "You do like cakes, don''t you? You don''t look all that excited for them."

    "Of course, love. I''m was merely wondering what dish would go well with the greatest dessert to ever exist. I''m not sure there are many lunch options for it. Unless, of course, you''d like to join me for dinner, Valencia?" he smiled down at her. "Maybe even a little past dinner?"

    She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. Father will be expecting me. Lots to help out with for tomorrow. I was more thinking we could skip a formal lunch. You know, just eat cakes instead. In your room. Just the two of us¡­" she drifted off, cheeks alight. She avoided his gaze.

    Agrienne slipped an arm around her waist. His eyes caressed her beautiful brown hair. A deep brown just as Lera''s hair had been. His lips parted. He almost said her name aloud, but bit his tongue before he could.

    No one would ever replace Lera.

    But Agrienne could at least imagine it. Valencia had both hair and body. She was only missing the face. He pulled her closer to him. "I take that back. Cakes are the second greatest of all desserts."

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    ***

    Valencia flashed one last smile as she descended down the grand staircase of the Caranel manor. Agrienne watched her go down, staring at her dancing hair as she leapt from the last three steps and landed on the floor with knees bent. She skipped to the door just as a loud knock resounded within the manor. Valencia froze.

    Agrienne scowled. Who could possibly be visiting? And who would dare to be rude enough to knock like a brute. The banging continued. "Guards!" Agrienne cried. Two guards wearing grey coats with House Caranel''s emblem ¡ªa white elk¡ª over their hearts rushed to the door. Agrienne left to retrieve a sword. He descended down the stairs, blade drawn. Valencia stood behind him, her hands clasped together. The guards opened the door and stepped away, swords in hand as well.

    Three people stood in the doorway. Two armed men and a brown haired woman. The men seemed normal guards, leather armor and plain but polished helms on their heads. The woman, whose heels allowed her to stand equal in height with Agrienne, wore a coat of pure black with a matching skirt stopping just before her ankles. She had a lotus flower brooch at the high collar around her neck and carried a thick tome in one hand.

    "What, may I ask took so long to open the door," the woman began, ignoring the drawn blades. Her brown hair had been tied back in a bun. She crossed her arms and raised her head. If arrogance was a person, this woman might be it. "It is quite rude to leave someone outside in the cold."

    "Ruder yet to bang on my door like a pack of Virk barbarians," Agrienne countered. He waved his hand. The guards backed away. He kept his own weapon in hand.

    "Your door?" The woman sniffed, stepping inside and examining the manor''s interior. "The Caranel''s are still at their own throats then¡­ To think I''d be dealing with the bastard. Well, let''s get on with it then. I''d rather not spend a second longer in these siphoning lands. I, Elyin Selene, am a Collector on behalf of the crown. It''s been over a year and a half since the queen has received taxes from High House Caranel."

    Tax collectors¡­"There''s nothing to pay. Dahlia should¡ª"

    "That''s her majesty, Queen Dahlia, Agrienne," Elyin corrected.

    Agrienne narrowed his eyes. His sword hand twitched. "Lord Agrienne Caranel."

    "Wrong again. Bastards cannot inherit titles. They can only be granted them by their direct superiors or the crown."

    Agrienne struggled to maintain his calm. He took deep breaths. His eyes lingered on Elyin''s brown hair. He forced an image of Lera into his mind to restrain his anger. "There no longer are any superiors. I am the last of the Caranels." No¡­ Not the last. Lera has my child. Our child.

    Elyin raised an eyebrow. "The last¡­ Well, in that case, her majesty will need to be notified. Rest assured. Your position will not come under threat unless you give the crown a reason to doubt your abilities to lead. Now. You were saying something about payments?"

    "Yes. Before being interrupted by a mere commoner," Agrienne began, hoping to see an agitated expression. Elyin maintained neutrality. His own eyebrows furrowed. "Her majesty should be well aware of our situation. The infighting of House Caranel has seen to our resources being exhausted. I''ve much work left before me in order to revive these lands. I''m afraid we don''t have excess revenue on which to pay taxes."

    "Well, I hope you''ll forgive me, then, for not believing a Caranel''s words. I''d rather not spend a single second more here, but for the sake of her majesty, I must be thorough. Surely, Agrienne, you have documents proving expenditures and earnings. I''ll go through them myself and decide whether any payments need be made. I suspect it may take a few days."

    Agrienne was at his limit. He wanted to kill the woman then and there. He stepped forward, eyes flickering to the two guards behind her. Valencia stepped before him.

    "Lord Caranel is an honest, and kind man!" she cried. "I can vouch for him as a resident of Red Vine. I''m sure the townsmen will agree too. I don''t know much about nobility. But he absolutely cannot be replaced. We''ll not have it!"

    Elyin crossed her arms. "You poor thing¡­" she muttered. "Is this your new toy, Agrienne? A little older for your tastes, I thought. Can it even read? I wonder what lies you''ve told it."

    Valencia flushed. She clutched Agrienne''s arm. "I-I can read. I''m not like the others. My father¡ª"

    Agrienne pushed the baker''s daughter away. "Few days you said. Hmph." He stepped to the side, gesturing with his free hand towards the staircase. I guess I''ve little choice but to lend you and your guards a few rooms.

    Elyin narrowed her eyes. She glared at Agrienne for a while before finally motioning for her guards to follow her up the staircase.

    Agrienne waited for them to walk past him. Waited until their backs were turned. Then, he cleaved one guardsman''s neck in two. No one turned around. Not until the headless body fell to the floor, the head rolling away, leaving a trail of red. Valencia screamed. Elyin gasped, backing away and tripping on the first step of the stairs. The second of her guards half drew his blade before finding himself impaled by Agrienne''s sword.

    "You¡­ You''re mad!" Elyin stammered. She tried pulling herself up, using the railings as support. She fell back on her rear again, struggling to find balance because of her long heels.

    Valencia continued to scream. Agrienne backhanded her, causing her to fall. "Shut up!" he yelled. "Someone escort this wench back to Red Vine!" he walked up to Elyin, smiling wickedly. He raised his sword and held it above her head. She trembled. His first thought was to put the sword through her mouth. Silence her forever. His gaze flickered to her brown hair.

    Lera¡­

    A drop of blood trailed down the sword''s edge and dripped onto Elyin''s forehead. Agrienne''s leering gaze examined her entirety, his sword following, the very tip slicing open the center of her black coat. She would do nicely. "I''ll show you just how well a bastard can lead," he said. "Do take notes. I assure you, I''m very thorough. Just as you prefer. Ah, and don''t forget to pay your taxes for the service you''re about to provide me with."

 Chapter 51: Need (Book 2, Chapter 14)

    <u>Chapter 14 - Need</u>

    Kalin sat down on an empty chair beside his daughter. Elizia, oddly enough, was wearing a loose teal dress and had her hair tied back with two thin braids running at the side of her head. She looked so much like her mother, though with a head of brown rather than lush silky black. It reminded him of the times Sar''tara would attend social gatherings and parties with him.

    Elizia held her mother''s hand in both of hers, leaning forward in her own chair and staring at Sar''tara''s fair resting face.

    The vibrant glow of a setting sun painted the room''s walls with flame. A hearth was alight at the far wall to stave off the cold of an approaching winter. Sar''tara looked just as she would if she were sleeping, white blanket stopping just below her neck, full lips spread in a line, though not quite smiling, cheeks smooth and begging to be caressed. How many a time had Kalin awoken to such a lovely sight? Sar''tara would always wake shortly after, as if sensing that he was watching her, and then smile. Such a start to a morning made every day that much better.

    Her wounds had already Healed, including the vile message that had been carved into her. It gave Kalin hope. Hope that she would overcome the poison in her system without the aid of any antidote. He clenched his fists. He suspected that this was Kazir''s doing. Vengeance for losing his eyes. ''I''ll make sure you regret this decision, Silver Eagle of Xenaria'' he had said. He had finally gotten back a decade and a half later, ensuring that his enemies would have grown complacent after so long a time. And there was no reason to leave Sar''tara alive and in a vegetative state for years unless the purpose was to torment Kalin.

    He looked at his daughter again. I brought this upon myself. Upon you, Elizia. If only he''d been more vigilant, or, if only he''d killed Kazir that day. He fiddled with his thumbs, unsure of how to break the silence. He hadn''t had much of a chance to speak to Elizia of late, struggling to find time managing territorial affairs as well as sending out whatever orders he could for the search of an antidote. "You''re wearing a dress," he finally said, regretting the words as soon as they''d left his mouth. That wasn''t a very good way to console his daughter.

    "An astute observation," Elizia said dryly. "It''s for mother, in case she wakes up. I''d rather she wakes up to something beautiful rather than your scruffy and unkempt mug."

    Kalin scratched his beard, realizing that he hadn''t shaved recently either. At least his daughter seemed to keep her sense of humor. She didn''t seem as devastated as she had when believing Sar''tara to be dead. It''s for mother, in case she wakes up¡­

    He let out a long exhale. "Elizia, I¡ª"

    "I hear you''ve been coming here less and less," she accused.

    "Elizia, I''ve much work. Please understand. I can''t just abandon matters concerning our people. And I''ve been organizing groups to go and search for a cure."

    "And the garrison? When will you be going back?"

    "Soon," he answered. "Perhaps within the cycle, after Emeria and her mother return to the capital. I don''t imagine you''ll come along." It was better if she didn''t. Dahlia had asked him to not restrict Elizia. But she took after her mother too much. She would be hungry to prove herself despite her age. He couldn''t risk sending her onto the battlefield, even for scouting missions. He couldn''t risk losing both his wife and daughter. "Will you come along?" he asked. He looked over her dress. She looked better this way. Safer that she became a proper noble lady rather than a warrior. The Serene bloodline would be all but secured then.

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    "I''m surprised you even asked," she said.

    "Elizia, I''m sorry for not seeing you sooner. I''m sorry for not¡ª"

    "I''ll go."

    Kalin blinked. "What?"

    "I said I''ll go to Arcaeus with you. Or would you still not rather spend time with your own daughter?"

    "What of your mother?"

    Elizia turned away. "I''m not so emotional as to believe she''ll wake up any moment now," she said, her voice cracking. "I mean, I did dress up and all, but that''s besides the point, okay? I¡­ I know it''s not likely mother will be waking soon, so I want to do my best. I want to show her how much I''ve learned, how much I''ve grown, when she does finally wake." She sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the sleeves of her dress. "There is an antidote, right? You will find it, won''t you, father?"

    Kalin stood up, placing a hand on his daughter''s back. She turned to hug him, crying. He didn''t have an absolute answer to her question. But that isn''t what she wanted to hear right now. "I will," he assured her.

    "What of her majesty," Elizia croaked, holding a fistful of his shirt. "What of declaring war?"

    Kalin froze. Why was a fourteen year old asking that question? ''That''s not for you to worry about'' he almost said. Would those be the appropriate words? She was clearly more devastated inside than he''d originally thought. "That might not happen for a few years yet," he replied honestly. "Her majesty''s position is somewhat precarious right now. There is much for her to figure out before she can aid us."

    Elizia looked up, arms still wrapped around him. Her reddened eyes were full of determination. "Then we have to do everything we can," she said.

    Kalin caressed her head. I brought this upon us. He still had half a mind to not send her anywhere close to a real battlefield. But if holding a bow was what kept her mind away from the pain of loss, then he could at least allow that. "Yes. We''ll do everything. I promise. Now, wipe your tears. Weren''t you going to wear a pretty face just in case?"

    Elizia seemed to manage a smile as she swept her cheeks with her palms. "Then you should go shave, father. I won''t allow you to visit mother if you come in looking like that again." She pressed a kiss to Sar''tara''s forehead before leaving the room.

    Kalin sat back down, sighing. He took hold of his wife''s hand and pressed his lips against it. The back was soft, but her palms were callused. He half expected her to open her eyes and say something witty as she''d somehow made a habit of since Elizia''s birth. He squeezed her hand.

    Nothing happened.

    Sar''tara was there, but also not. There were times when she''d spent a few days out in the field. But Kalin had never felt so cold at night without her until now. She was alive, but it didn''t seem like it. It seemed as if she was gone entirely. His other half, someone who shared his mind in affairs of the state and battles, a warrior that could stand beside him, and a pillar he could press his back to if need be.

    Kalin closed his eyes. "Was this how you felt when you''d lost your home, my love?"

    He grazed her cheek with his fingers. The people needed her now more than ever. News of the duchess'' demise had spread, lowering Xenarian morale. Tarmia was making suspicious movements, likely because Kazir was back on the field. Xenaria was also in a precarious state with Sar''tara''s most hated enemy having infiltrated it. Dahlia could have used the aid of her friend to pull her out of the deception Kalin suspected she''d fallen for.

    And perhaps most important of all, Elizia was entering her adolescence, and she would likely go through it without a mother. Kalin kissed Sar''tara''s cheek. He stared for a long moment, convincing himself that the very next second, she would awake. And then the next second. And then the next. And the next.

    Sar''tara''s eyes remained shut.

    Kalin shut his own eyes, forcing back his anguish. "I''ll find it. I''ll find your antidote. Elizia needs you yet. The people of Xenaria need you."

    Servants and physics alike, wearing grey and sky blue tunics respectively, entered into the room with cart bearing glasses of liquid food items. They bowed before him. One of the physics carried a long flexible tube of sorts. It was used to feed Sar''tara.

    Kalin stood and left, leaving the workers to do as needed. He pressed a hand to his chest, clutching a fistful of his own shirt as if that would dull his pain.

    I need you.

 Chapter 52: Names and Games (Book 2, Chapter 15)

    <u>Chapter 15 - Names and Games</u>

    <hr>

    2 1/2 Years Later

    <hr>

    Year 4240 of the Second Calendar, 4<sup>th</sup> cycle of Elaina

    Azurus swept a bead of sweat from his brow. He slowed his breaths, inhaling and exhaling in measured paces just as he''d been taught to do. He wasn''t fatigued. But his muscles were wary. Wary of the struggles they would soon endure. He was facing the only opponent within the realm that he hadn''t yet beaten. He scolded himself for not having trimmed his hair prior to the bout. Wavy brown strands were getting into his eyes.

    A split second mistake was all it took to end a duel. Azurus took his stance, arms outstretched before him. Sweaty palms clutched tight the hilt of a blunt training sword giving off a dull shine beneath the sowing season sun. He had been trained by the Queen''s Guard captain. And by the Wolf of Metsiphon. While he had bested the latter, Azurus had yet to claim a victory against Sir Aegis, the one they called Thundersword.

    This was Azurus'' graduation fight. He had earned his place among the Order of Queen''s Guard. But a graduation fight had become tradition within the Order. Victors were said to be blessed with bright futures ahead of them. Superstition, all that. Others of the Guard watched from the outskirts of the open courtyard. They were too far to hear any spoken words, but they were close enough to feel the impact of clashing blades.

    Eildred Aegis stood about a dozen feet away, back straight and confident, two hands wrapped around the hilt of his own weapon. He wore a dark violet uniform with black trousers. The back of his violet coat held an embroidered white lotus. It was the uniform of Exaltyron''s highest ranking commander. Officers beneath him wore a dark red the color of dried blood, while lowest ranking Queen''s Guard wore navy blue. Exaltyron''s regular soldiers wore uniforms of white with a black lotus embroidery while on duty.

    Eildred, even without his daunting black armor plates, was as imposing as a fortress wall measured from its base. Azurus felt more sweat roll down the side of his head. He couldn''t help but feel a tinge of fear when staring down the one man he''d never beaten.

    He sucked air through his teeth and charged, thinking that if he couldn''t win by technique, he would best his opponent with sheer strength. He was of similar build to his opponent, but Eildred was somewhere in his early forties. He surely did not still possess the physical prowess to match with a nineteen year old.

    A sore mistake.

    Eildred met the stroke with more than equal force, knocking back Azurus'' blade. His guard was blown wide open and the Thundersword thrusted at the opportunity. Azurus forced himself to fall on his back. He rolled on the grass and quickly picked himself up. How? How do I win?

    "Thinking won''t do you any good, lad," the guard captain said, his voice deep and commanding. "And a maneuver like that will be hard to pull off when you''re armored. You lack experience. That is all I will tell you."

    That was utter nonsense. Azurus had as much experience as any other. The only thing he''d known since being taken in early in his childhood was the sword. He charged his opponent once more, now gripping the two handed blade with one hand only. He had built up his arms to have strength enough when wielding a longsword with a single hand. A skill he spent countless days trying to master.

    Eildred had an amused smile on his face. The two clashed multiple times. By only using one arm, Azurus was weaker, but also more agile. He was more nimble with his footwork and could dodge much easier while retaliating with precision rather than relying on brute strength. But even that wasn''t enough to reach the Sir Aegis. Eildred easily parried everything, barely shuffling his feet in the process.

    Azurus looked into his dark eyes. There was a hint of melancholy. The captain aimed an attack at his throat. Even with a dull training sword, such an attack could be life threatening. He barely managed to raise his blade in time to deflect the stroke. He stepped back and stood still, ending his dance. His body shuddered at the killing intent. That stroke was meant to take his life. Fear seeped into his blood. He felt his joints stiffening in a natural response. A fatal mistake for a swordsman.

    "Did you catch a hint of understanding?" Eildred asked. Even now, he was trying to teach a lesson. "As I said. You lack experience. Those eyes still belong to a child. You''re quaking in your boots."

    Azurus looked down. It was slight. But his knees were buckling. The fear of death was overwhelming. He had never been in an actual battle. One where his life was threatened. One where he was forced to kill. He swallowed hard as a cool breeze pressed against his damp forehead.

    "Come now. I didn''t raise a coward. You''ll never protect the princess with such haphazard resolve."

    Something snapped within the young knight''s mind. He had something to protect. Someone he loved. Someone he would gladly give his life for. His resolve was renewed, the thumping engine in his chest melting all previous thoughts of fear.

    He bent his knees and examined the towering wall before him, trying to glean any sort of a weakness. He recalled Emeria''s slender form dancing with a sword under moonlight. She was quite a skilled duelist herself. She used a thin one handed blade, almost akin to a rapier, but not quite. He had gifted it to her for her fifteenth birthday. Something he''d had made specifically for her physique. Her skill surpassed many of the Queen''s Guard. Hardly anyone was able to keep up with her speed and footwork. The only reason Azurus would win against her was due to the difference in strength and endurance. It was easy to drain muscles of their strength when they were forced to absorb the shock from constant parries.

    Emeria was ever relentless in her pursuit for improvement, asking him for bouts often. They''d sparred enough times for him to have a decent memory of her footwork. He took a similar stance to her and held his longsword with one hand again. Faster. I have to go faster. Strong but quick at the same time. Just like the wind.

    Eildred had that same amused smile on his face again, as if realizing that something new was coming. He attacked instead of waiting for his opponent.

    Azurus flinched, his legs reacting faster than his mind and stepping forth to meet his opponent. He deflected Eildred''s overhead swing rather than blocking it head on and lunged to one side using only his toes. Eildred hardly shuffled while Azurus danced like a butterfly, striking with thrusts from every angle. It made him strangely happy. The swift movements felt liberating as if he were being swayed by the wind. Impressed whistles and mutters could be heard from around the training field.

    I can win. I will win!

    "Mm. To use a longsword almost like a rapier. Most impressive arm strength, young man," the captain commented.

    Azurus ignored the words, falling deeper into his dance. His heart matched his rhythm. But his breathing did not. The pain of overuse was settling into his limbs. His toes and calves were already burning from the constant short burst leaps. He wasn''t used to this style of footwork. It made him realize just how impressive Emeria was to constantly move this way.

    He finally found an opening. Eildred''s neck was exposed. He leapt forward with his toes and brought down his sword in an angled stroke, aware that doing so would leave him off balance, but it was a chance he couldn''t miss. The chance at victory.

    He was too preoccupied with the target of his attack that he hadn''t been paying attention to his opponent''s movements as a whole. Eildred had been holding his own longsword with just one hand for a while. He had intentionally created the opening. With his free hand, he gave the young knight a gentle shove. Already off balance, Azurus fell to his rear, breathing hard. He soon found a sword tip poised at his throat.

    "Hmm. Not bad," the captain said. "Almost like a whirlwind. But I cannot be beaten by mere improvisations. Perhaps in a few years that style could pose a threat. Remember, do not fall so deeply into a trance that your surroundings become oblivious to you. Having fun during duels is one thing. But you cannot do that in a real fight. You are Queen''s Guard. You need to be mindful of your every surrounding. Welcome to the order, Sir Aegis." Eildred held out a hand.

    "Aegis? What do you mean?"

    "You''re an orphan, Azurus. The Queen''s Guard is a group of elites both in status and skill. There have been exceptions in the case of talented individuals like yourself. But it''s different for you, isn''t it? You''ll never be taken into House Lakris without a family name of your own. To that end, I will adopt you. Are you dissatisfied?"

    Azurus felt his face color. Eildred was correct. The court could be thrown into chaos if a nameless person became Emeria''s betrothed. But it bothered him to use the name of another. He had gotten so far with his own skill. He wanted to prove himself. Wanted to prove that status wasn''t all that mattered. "I¡­ respectfully decline," he sighed. "I will remain Azurus. I cannot accept something like this. And, it might shame you, Sir Aegis. They would say that I am your illegitimate child."

    "That much is true. Though I care not for such words. I won''t question your affection for the princess. I''ll have to ask her majesty to make record of it in paper. If it comes to it, you can use my name when Emeria and you decide to wed. Besides," he smiled, "this works well for me. House Aegis has no legitimate successor. This will remain our secret. Until then, prove yourself. Attain new heights as just Azurus the Whirlwind."

    "Whirlwind?"

    "Yes. I''ll grant you that name. You have earned it. Spread it far across all of Illusterra. Let the Whirlwind be feared by our enemies just as they fear the Thundersword. As a new member of the Queen''s Guard, you have five years to gain experience before you become duty bound to the palace. Five years to serve the nation elsewhere. I spent four of my five years serving House Serene and fighting on the frontlines. I imagine you would do the same. It would be the easiest route to attaining experience."

    "How did you spend your last year?"

    "Wasting it. It was the year of her majesty''s coronation. It was Queen Dahlia''s wish to improve the Impoverished District of the capital. I spent my last year roaming about in the city, seeking a way to eliminate the various street guilds and criminal organizations. That ultimately resulted in nothing. Even after returning to the palace, I aided in attempts to bring order into the district, but that also ended in failure. We were wasting resources and her majesty eventually decided to let them be."

    Azurus thought for a moment. Emeria had expressed her desire to improve the district as well. But many a past monarch had tried the same, each one failing. The Impoverished District was his birthplace and he wanted it bettered.

    He realized that he was still sitting on his rear and that other members of the Queen''s Guard were staring at him, though they couldn''t hear the conversation he and Eildred were having. He finally took his captain''s offered hand and picked himself off the ground. "Am I not still her highness'' appointed knight?" he asked.

    Eildred frowned, scratching his chin. He kept a trimmed beard of dark brown. "I suppose you are. Unless her majesty decides otherwise that is. In that case, your circumstances are much different compared to other recruits."

    "I''ll think on it later then. Thank you, Sir Aegis. For everything you''ve taught me and done for me."

    "It has been my pleasure, lad. You''ll find your uniform and sword in your new quarters. Both blade and clothes have been made with your build in mind. Your armor has also been modified to include the lotus regalia."

    Azurus nodded and left the training grounds. A few of the knights uttered words of praise and welcome as he passed them by. Others crossed their arms and offered mocking side glances. Not everyone wanted an orphan to be a part of the Royal Guard. Azurus had no friends from amongst them. He was avoided by others when he was a child. Even those few who had risen through the ranks through effort alone avoided him. Everyone stuck their noses in the air once they attained a certain position. As if they had forgotten where they really came from. Azurus never had the opportunity to make friends in his adolescence either. He was chosen to be Emeria''s appointed knight during those years and spent most of his time with the First Princess. The only people he considered to be his friends were Emeria and Elizia.

    Queen''s Guard had their residence a short distance from the palace ¡ªa five storey building that had the appearance of an oversized manor. A few select members such as Sir Aegis and Sir Draumen had living quarters within the palace itself. Azurus made his way to his new room. It was spacious. More than he ever wanted. A room with a small round table in the center and two red-cushioned couches for lounging. A large window opened up to a balcony, giving a view of Exaltyron''s western half.

    A lingering memory of his orphan past resurfaced. He didn''t want to forget it. Didn''t want to be like the others that refused to acknowledge their origins. He made his way down a narrow corridor a few feet in length to his bedroom, and was surprised to see Emeria going through his near empty wardrobe with a frown on her face. She wore a short sleeved blue dress that widened beyond the hips and had embroidered yellow flowers near the ankles. Her blonde hair was tied in a short tail.

    Azurus raised an eyebrow, both surprised and admiring Emeria''s accentuated beauty in the dress. She tended to dress herself similar to male nobility, with a long coat and loose fitted breeches. The dress revealed her more slender and graceful figure. She still had her thin sword at her waist. She carried it with her everywhere.

    There was a stack of expensive looking coats on his bed which she was putting away into the wardrobe whilst humming. "I suppose it''s useless to ask about what you''re doing," he commented.

    "Very," she answered, lips curling.

    He drank the sight of her. That smile was worth kingdoms. Worth every worldly possession. Was that how it was for every man in love? "Any news regarding Lord Serene''s hunt for the Lady''s antidote?" Azurus wondered what the duke was going through with his beloved wife still in a coma.

    "Ill, last I''d heard," Emeria said. "He''s sent scholars everywhere. They''ve had little luck searching the records of other nations. They''ve recovered a larger sample of the poison recently. Physics and scholars alike have been studying it."

    "And Elizia? Do you still send letters to each other?" The queen had insisted her heir remain in the capital to further her studies, which Azurus knew, Emeria diligently ignored through bribing her lecturers, spending days practicing with a blade in secret. A bad habit he knew he''d be chewed out for if the queen ever realized, but he couldn''t help but indulge Emeria every now and then.

    "She''s well, I think. At least her words don''t indicate any stress."

    He grunted in response. Emeria continued to smooth out the coats and shirts before hanging them in the wardrobe. Azurus slowly closed the door to his bedroom, door hinges creaking. She cast a quick glance towards him, a deep blush very evident on her fair skin. "You know I won''t be carrying all of that to Arcaeus Peak with me, right?" he asked.

    "I don''t expect you to. It''s for much later. For when I''m queen. You can''t be strutting behind your wife wearing military uniform now can you?"

    "I imagine these things will be caked in dust by that time," he said.

    "Then you should air them out and wash them every once in a while!"

    "Really now, Emma? I thought you were excited to go to Arcaeus after two years of learning politics and attending balls. If I''m to wash them every so often, I guess we won''t be spending much time at the garrison." She shut the wardrobe and turned to glare at him. Azurus pulled her in close. "I jest. You''ve brought them here for me. I''ll take care of them for you."

    "I brought myself here too¡­" she breathed.

    He didn''t need another hint. Their lips locked and he slowly guided her to his bed. His hand reached for the strings of her dress.

    "You''ve learned to be more assertive," she whispered with a shy smile. He kissed her neck as her dress slowly fell away.

    Azurus positioned himself above her and stared into her deep verdant eyes.

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    "All the way, please," Emeria whispered, chest rising and falling quick.

    Azurus pulled his shirt over his head and slowly ran a finger down her bare body. A soft moan escaped from her mouth. He kissed his way back up. "As her highness commands," he whispered into her ear.

    ***

    Dahlia quietly stepped along the palace gardens. An unveiled sun breathed life into budding leaves and early seasonal flowers. She felt at ease embraced by their sweet scent. Time to herself seemed a luxury of late. Afternoon strolls did wonders to alleviate her stress.

    She rubbed her shoulders. Sowing season winds still held an echo of winter. Her head of gold had been tied in a bun. She released the knot and let her hair flow about freely if but only to cover the back of her neck. Her loose teal dress dragged behind her. Soft chirping of various birds were like music to her ears. It was accompanied by the sounds of laughter from others. The gardens weren''t solely hers to occupy, though she wished that she could have been alone for a while. She had the power to make such arrangements, but she hadn''t the heart to take away joy from young couples.

    Dahlia seated herself beneath the shade of a willow. She stared at two white swans gliding across the waters of a small pond before her. It wasn''t long before she began dozing off. To her dismay, she was interrupted. Adrian came and sat down beside her. Her peaceful afternoon had come to an end. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

    The First Chancellor cocked his head in curiosity. "What''s that supposed to mean?" he asked.

    "What''s what supposed to mean?"

    "That sigh. As if I was a bother. I feel as though you''ve been avoiding me recently, Dahlia. Hmm. Recently isn''t the right word. If I think back on it, you''ve been sort of distant since Lady Sar''tara''s poisoning. Nights aside, we hardly speak to each other during daylight except for when you hold meetings in the court."

    "You are being a bother," she said, playing with strands of her own hair. "Rather, you were. I had wanted some time alone. But seeing you was more relaxing than I would have expected. Though, I suggest we keep walking. The two of us sitting here alone could create unwanted rumors."

    Adrian agreed and stood up, holding out his hand for her to take. She accepted and allowed him to pull her up. "You still aren''t willing to make our relationship public? This is getting tiring, Dahlia. I love you. All of you. And I want to show it. I don¡¯t want us to hide."

    Her heart ached. Two years had already passed since her dear friend''s poisoning. Two of Sar''tara''s supposed ten year limit was already gone. Dahlia had wasted those years. The Order of Trillia had not been dealt with. And Kalin still awaited the declaration of war he expected her to give. The duke was patient, conducting frequent reconnaissance missions across the border, but never overstepping his authority.

    "I love you too," she said truthfully. Though, she was wary of him as well. She had secretly investigated Adrian, but hadn''t found much of anything. She wanted to believe he wasn''t affiliated with the Astral Union. But her investigations did confirm the things Kalin had claimed regarding the Trillian faith. They indeed had far too many mercenaries posing as everyday citizens or acolytes. And many of their officials were former members of the Union.

    Oddly enough, the warnings of the Tarmian emissary from two years prior did hold true to some extent. She had gone to Metsiphon for Sar''tara''s premature funeral, but when Dahlia returned, she''d found that many from amongst her court had adopted the Trillian faith. They weren''t enemies by any stretch. But religious zealotry was dangerous and could split loyalty. Those that were fully loyal to her were few. Dahlia did not count Adrian amongst them despite wanting to.

    "Then what is the hold up?" he asked. "Are you still worried about Princess Emeria''s opinion? She''s seventeen now. She''s more than capable of thinking for herself."

    Dahlia bit her thumbnail. She wanted to ask him. Wanted an answer from his mouth. Wanted him to assure her that he was and forever would be an ally. That he loved her more than his Goddess. "I''m afraid of¡­ everything falling apart. I''ve spent two years suffering this guilt, Adrian. Two years dancing around issues, trying to find easy solutions to complex problems. The duke is a friend of mine. And I promised I would allow him the chance at vengeance. But you don''t want war. I didn''t want to hurt you. After everything¡­"

    Adrian stopped walking and took hold of both her hands. Dahlia thought she heard another pair of footsteps behind her. She spared flitting glances for any prowling set of eyes and ears. The garden was large but it would only take one person for rumors to start spreading.

    "Is that all?" Adrian asked.

    "Yes¡­" And the fact that Kalin suspects you of being a traitor. Flames but he was handsome. Not quite intoxicating like Agrienne Caranel. Nor possessing the sort of rugged allure that Madrivall and Kalin had. But handsome. Adrian had an admirable build similar to her Royal Guards and an angular and cleanly shaven face that could put stone statues to shame.

    "Then stop looking about like a frightened kitten, Dahlia. My love for you transcends the divine. And the Goddess also does not tell us to turn in cowardice if enemies come on to us. I will support the war effort against the Empire. But I want us to at least get engaged."

    Dahlia gaped, blinking more than necessary. The words she had wanted to hear for two years were said in an instant. Her heartbeats quickened. He squeezed her hands. Squeezed them harder than she was comfortable with.

    Dahlia swallowed. Why is he being so pushy all of a sudden? Two years of being wary had created a cautious entity within her mind. Adrian had had more than enough opportunity to say those words when visiting her chambers at night. More than enough opportunity to mention her odd distance since the past few years. And yet, he hadn''t. A growing sickness clutched at her chest. Was I being used all along?

    Adrian had responded far too quickly. But he loves me. Of course he would respond quickly. Dahlia didn¡¯t know what to make of it. She didn''t want to feel hurt. Didn''t want to admit to being used. She desperately hoped for her worries to be wrong. Adrian leaned in before she could react. He kissed her, melting away her doubts. She responded in kind, placing her hand on his chest. He loves me. He has to. "Give me a bit of time," she said when he pulled away. "We''ll be engaged by the end of this year. I promise."

    "I''ll keep my end of the bargain, Dahlia. I''ll bring up Lady Sar''tara''s demise in the next court meeting myself and sway the fence sitters. The Empire needs to at least learn to fear us. It is my hope that once the Order of Trillia spreads in Tarmia as well, we can achieve true peace."

    Dahlia looked at her shoes, a wave of guilt overcoming her, that sickness in her chest returning with renewed vigor. She almost gagged. He said ''demise'' as if Sar''tara was guaranteed to die. And those final words sounded so much like those of one seeking conquest. As if ¡ªAs if he believes he''s already won Xenaria because he owns me.

    Owns her. That thought enraged her.

    "Yes. That would be like a dream come true," she said, maintaining her calm. Two conflicting parts of her clashed with each other. The doubtful part of her was winning, holding control of her brain and thus, her body as well. The soft side of her held control of her heart, a heart that desired Adrian''s embrace.

    Dahlia inhaled deeply, flinching at the mind numbing scent of Adrian''s cologne. It was attractive enough to hinder her train of thought. But she had to know. She mustered the courage to ask the question suffocating her decisiveness. "Adrian, about the Vicegerent of Trillia, the one currently residing in the former summer residence for royalty in Heira. Will Vicegerent Odain really be in agreement to this? I hear he is a fierce advocate for ending any conflict."

    "I''ve met with the man a few times actually. I can assure you, he will agree. Left unattended, the Empire poses a serious risk to the nation. And as such, a risk to my faith as well which finds its roots here."

    Dahlia could sense no lie within Adrian''s eyes. If it was deception, he was a master at it. She felt guilty for both doubting and loving him. It made her feelings seem flimsy. It had taken a while, but she had managed to confirm that Odain was once the Astral Union''s most prized general. Though the reports were somewhat conflicting at times because the timeline didn''t add up. Odain was said to be a middle aged man and yet the reports had him as the Union''s leader for many decades.

    But the information she had obtained had come from two years of efforts. A very limited number of her spies had managed to infiltrate the Thousand Sun City''s innermost wall and had risked their lives for that information. Dahlia smiled at Adrian and rested her head against his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was the one doing the deceiving this time. "Then I am happy. Thank you." If the First Chancellor was deceiving her, she needed to play along and make him believe that she had been fooled.

    What if he''s not lying? The Trillians are still too dangerous to leave alone. What would happen to him if he realized she was attacking the leader of his faith?

    What would Kalin say, if he knew she didn''t arrest this Odain fellow despite knowing that he was the same Lord Sun who''d burnt his beloved wife''s home to ash?

    Adrian nodded and looked towards the sky. "I''m glad we cleared this long misunderstanding. I have a prior engagement to attend before evening. Should I come by your chambers tonight?"

    "No, um. It''s that time of the month for me," she blushed.

    "Oh, of course. My apologies. I''ll take my leave then, Your Majesty."

    Adrian turned and left the garden. Dahlia walked towards the exit as well, though more leisurely. She thought she heard faint footsteps behind her but noticed no one when glancing back. The First Chancellor could assume misunderstandings cleared, but Dahlia didn''t believe it. The thoughts gnawed on her mind, causing her head to ache.

    "I suppose I should count it a blessing that the Adrian Rinz will not visit you tonight. I have a proposition, Your Majesty," a deep voice boomed, like a distant rumbling of thunder.

    Dahlia jumped and whipped her head around. "Eildred? How long¡­ no I mean, it isn''t what it seems." The knight tilted his head to the side, as if wondering why she was trying to hide the matter in the first place. "Did you know about Adrian and me?"

    "I''ve always known, Your Majesty. As did your chamberlain. And did you forget, I was in attendance when you spoke to the duke two years prior."

    She sighed, forehead creasing. Of course. "Were you not told to wait for me outside of the garden? I don''t need someone hounding me at all times. I need some privacy, Sir Aegis."

    "Of course. I left someone else in my stead. I only entered the garden after the First Chancellor. I don''t trust him."

    Her frown eased with that simple explanation. Eildred hardly trusted anyone, and she found that more a comfort than a hindrance. Often, he seemed overprotective. But that wasn''t at all the case if she took time to think about it. Protective as his younger brother had been. How she wished Madrivall were still alive now. "You don¡¯t trust him even after what he just told me?" Dahlia asked. Eildred looked so much like his brother, but a bit more rough of face, with broader shoulders and thick neck muscles. More mature too. And stoic. Very stoic.

    "Even more so after what he just told you. His response was too quick to not doubt. Two years ago, at the meeting with Idris Khan, he wanted peace. Now he favors war. Seems simple. He loves you. Or claims to. A convenient excuse. From my eyes, he advocates for unity before the court. A farce that has paid off for him. Most of them now worship his Goddess now, and more or less repeat his talking points.

    "And now, well, now that the court majority belongs to the Order of Trillia, it is the perfect time to start a war. To send away all loyal soldiers to the border. After all, there are no other external threats to the nation. The Thousand Sun City will not attack us directly. They need to maintain their neutrality to let their battalions freely roam our nations. But the Trillian faith''s mercenaries are another story. That is how my eyes view this situation."

    He painted a very clear picture. But it only served to inflate Dahlia''s headaches. She had authority to override the court''s decisions, but she risked any allies within them and would paint herself a tyrant if reasonable results were not achieved with such a drastic power grab. "Then, what would you have me do?"

    "For now, observe as you''ve done these past few years. But approach it differently. We''ve only recently learned of Odain''s true identity. The time to strike decisively will arrive soon. I don''t want to make a mistake. It is in your right to be happy, Your Majesty. But once our information is complete, if Adrian is confirmed a traitor, I won''t arrest him. He''ll die the moment I lay my eyes on him. Here''s my proposition. I''m certain you are aware of the rumors surrounding Azurus and the First Princess. The court is obviously not in favor of this." Eildred paused for a reaction.

    "And?" she crossed her arms. "He is a man of outstanding character. A fitting partner for my daughter."

    "Yes. I think so too. Good. I want you to send him away. He is skilled but staying at Emeria''s side is the equivalent of clipping his wings. I expect him to succeed me as Captain of the Queen''s Guard one day. But he is nameless. He will need a lot of fame before he is accepted in that role. Send him to Heira. Use the excuse that you don''t want a filthy orphan defiling your daughter. Harsh, I know. But convenient nonetheless. The Draumen estate is a short distance from Heira. He can take up residence there. Investigate this Vicegerent and Adrian''s potential ties to him. It is the perfect opportunity."

    "And you want me to do this tonight?"

    Eildred nodded. His expression rarely changed. It was picturesque. Like a still painting. Always blank and unreadable. "He officially became a member of your Guard today. It wouldn''t be strange to revoke his title as the princess'' appointed knight now. But to ask of him in public would draw too much attention. It should not be known that you are sending him to Heira. I would recommend visiting him in the dead of night today."

    Dahlia thought for a moment. Azurus was untainted and had also spent a number of years with the duke. She could confirm his loyalty by using her own daughter as a bargaining chip. "If he is to gain fame, what good does it do to have the boy be a part of a covert mission?"

    "I have named him ''The Whirlwind''. None yet know of it. It shouldn''t be hard for a man of his caliber to spread that name. Azurus need not be associated with ''The Whirlwind'' until the time is right."

    Dahlia didn''t understand the odd titles warriors acquired. Something meant to carry respect and fear. To her, it seemed childish. Her eyes lingered on the captain''s broad shoulders and thick arms hidden beneath his violet uniform. Childish. And yet having him near, having the Thundersword near her, made her feel invincible. Fearless even. And protected.

    A clear picture accompanied by a solution. Eildred had somehow inflated her headaches as if goading it to commit an error and then killed it entirely. "That makes sense. Then I will do as you say, Sir Aegis. I''m glad to have you as an advisor. This nation would not have lasted long if I was alone." Sometimes, the simple yet keen perspective of a seasoned soldier was the best one.

    "I am not deserving of those words, Your Majesty."

    ***

    Dahlia edged along the walls of the Queen''s Guard residence. It felt terribly immoral to be sneaking about with a black hood over her head. Though, it reminded her of a distant past when she would do just that to visit Madrivall in his quarters prior to their wedding.

    It was well into the night and Eildred had made it such that there were no guards on standby. He led her through the dark passages and stairs. Luminite was sparse and small. Dahlia nearly tripped on numerous occasions, creating more noise than she would have preferred. This place could use a bit of renovating, or at least the budget to purchase more light.

    Eildred had a dark cloak thrown around his violet uniform, clothes clinking softly with every step. She knew he wore mail beneath. At no waking hour was he ever defenseless. He carried two short swords at his waist as they were more appropriate for narrow halls than a larger weapon.

    They came to Azurus'' room at last. The newest of recruits had their quarters in the uppermost floors of the residence. And the young knight, being the only new recruit for a while, was the only one on the highest floor of the five storey building. Dahlia expected Azurus to be asleep, though her guard were supposed to be trained to wake at the most sudden of noises. She meant to softly knock on the door but Eildred stepped between her and essentially banged on the door before stepping back. She frowned at the man.

    "There''s no one else on this floor," he whispered.

    Whispered. After just banging like a mindless drunk. She shook her head.

    A shirtless Azurus opened the door. Moonlight spilled out of the open doorway from the undraped window at the back. The boy''s well-toned body shone with faint traces of sweat. He blinked a few times, staring Dahlia in the eye. He immediately slammed the door shut. Dahlia''s jaw hung open in shock as she slowly pulled off the hood of her cloak.

    The door opened again shortly after. This time, she was greeted with a face full of terror. "You-your Majesty. I didn''t mean to-it''s just that-that I thought, I mean thought I was dreaming for a second and¡­ yeah."

    She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. He still stood in the doorway. His face grew even more worried when he noticed his captain standing behind her. "May I come in?" she asked.

    "No ¡ªI mean yes. Um, yes. Of course not, I mean, of course. Yes. Why not?" Azurus finally stepped aside. His behaviour was very strange and different from what she knew. He stepped back until he stood before the short hall that led to his bedroom. He hastily went down on one knee. "Um, what can I do for you, your majesty?"

    She crossed her arms. "You can step aside for starters," she said as she walked around him regardless. His lips slowly parted as his expression grew even more taut. Eildred went around the room lighting candles. Dahlia thought she heard Azurus swallow as she walked past him. In his bedroom, on his bed, was Emeria, unclothed but hidden under the sheets. She pulled the sheets up to her mouth at the sight of the queen.

    "Mother¡­"

    "I suppose that explains why you weren''t at the dinner table today. Sir Aegis, escort the royal heir back to the palace. Or throw her over your shoulder and carry her back. I care not of the method. I wish to speak to Azurus alone."

    Dahlia waited in silence as her daughter dressed and was carried out by Eildred. He threw her over his shoulder, as Dahlia said, and the princess squealed as he carried her off. Dahlia closed the door behind them and turned around. Azurus was standing still, though trembling. "Do you imagine it proper to be without a shirt before your queen?" she asked.

    "Forgive me, Your Majesty," the young knight said as he hurried to wear something more appropriate. He came back and knelt before her.

    She sighed aloud, taking a seat at the round table. She wasn''t sure as to how she would start the conversation. "You are officially stripped of your position as my daughter''s appointed knight. Effective immediately."

    Silence.

    "No defence at all? No reaction? I expected more, Azurus."

    "You are the queen. Your words are absolute. I am bound to accept whatever punishment you believe I have earned."

    "Punishment¡­ You, an orphan, have slept with my daughter. I should put you to death, if only to silence you." The boy still showed no reaction. He was flustered at first, but his resolve was strong. His loyalty even stronger. She could see why Eildred had taken a liking to him. "I have a task for you. Sir Aegis recommends I send you to Heira and I agree with him. Do you accept?"

    "Whatever you command."

    "No hesitation. I haven''t even explained the details. It''s something you have no experience in. Which ironically makes you the perfect candidate for the job. It also allows me to be rid of you. Perhaps you''ve tried hiding your affection for my daughter. But I doubt she hid hers for you. Sar''tara influenced that girl too much. There''s already been less than savory rumors about my daughter''s character. She''s beautiful and spends her time near soldiers. You can imagine what they say of her. Imagine the uproar the nobles and the court will cause if I let you marry her. But to be frank, I don''t give Flaming dreg about all of that."

    "Your Majesty¡­"

    "Right, right. Pardon my language. I''m sending you to Heira. It''s a covert mission. I need you to investigate the Trillian temple. Do not, under any circumstance, take your task lightly. You might be a skilled swordsman, but I don''t expect you to do much fighting unless absolutely necessary. This matter entails the safety of the nation. It has come to my attention that the Trillians are affiliated with the Astral Union. I need you to investigate a man named Odain. He is their Vicegerent. And formerly the Lord Sun of the Thousand Sun City. Find out, if you can, exact details of his plots. And find out how they are connected to the First Chancellor, Adrian Rinz. Any questions?"

    "¡­ The same Lord Sun said to have burned down an entire forest of ours?"

    "The same. Anything else?"

    "No," the boy answered, closing his fists.

    Fiercely loyal to the nation as well. Or is it perhaps a sense of maternal attachment to Sar''tara? He was an orphan after all. And Sar''tara was too likeable for those around her to not at least feel the need to share a fraction of her pain. "This has little to no relations with what you''ve been trained to do. You have yet to shed blood, Sir Azurus. Are you resolved to kill if need be?"

    "Anything for the safety of Xenaria."

    "Even if you are forced to kill in cold blood? Kill dishonourably? Go beyond your code as a knight to hide your identity?"

    "A knight''s duty is to his nation. I will fulfill my task as you command."

    Good. The boy was unknown. So long as he was at least half as cautious as Eildred, he would not be recognized. Or should not be, Dahlia hoped. "Set out at dawn tomorrow. Notify no one of your task. Head for the Draumen estate. Sir Draumen''s sister will receive you and provide further details regarding your cover identity. And remember this. You aren''t just a valuable asset to this nation. My daughter loves you and I have no qualms with that. If your position becomes compromised, return immediately. Whether you succeed or fail, I still plan to give you Emeria''s hand. I know no better man. I''ll ask you one last time, do you have any further questions?"

    "No. I will complete my task as ordered." He said, still on one knee and face pointed towards the floor.

    Dahlia breathed easy. She undid her folded arms. "Rest well. I wish you good fortune, Azurus Whirlwind."

 Chapter 53: The Huntress (Book 2, Chapter 16)

    <u>Chapter 16 - The Huntress</u>

    Elizia drew a bowstring back to her chin with ease. She released it, a satisfying twang resounding in her ears, subtle vibrations running along the length of wood. It was a smooth ash wood recurve bow that was perfect for her height. A bow designed after the one her mother used most often for her specific cavalry unit. Though, Sar''tara usually forged her own bows. Elizia knew how to make one of her own, but the result was always crude. She didn''t have half her mother''s artisan talents.

    Nor am I even half the woman.

    Sar''tara was skilled in both ranged and melee combat, whereas Elizia was only good at archery. She strapped the bow to her back and slung two large quivers full of newly sharpened arrows over her shoulder. She drew out a shaft from each to double check their points, running a callused finger along the serrated edges of a broadhead with three blades. Slightly more efficient than barbed arrows, but just as deadly. They were designed to tear blood vessels and cause severe hemorrhage. The second shaft in her hand had a sleeker and sharp head, a bodkin point made to pierce mail.

    Satisfied with their edge, Elizia put the arrows back in their quivers and pulled up the grey hood of her soldier''s cloak. She slowly opened the doors to the armory, squinting in the dark. Rusted hinges creaked like the weakening floorboards of an aging manse as she poked her head out, trying to see if there was anyone in the dimly lit corridor. It was the dead of night, but the garrison was never fully asleep. There were always guards on night duty roaming the interior of the fortress.

    Elizia stuck to the walls while moving on the tips of her toes, trying her best to avoid braziers hanging at the sides. She hid in dark corners when hearing low voices of passing guards. She needed to avoid being seen. It had taken her several days to memorize the patterns used by the fortress'' guards and learn of which passages were among the most dangerous to tread. She needed to make her way to the stables before dawn or all her efforts would be wasted.

    Several turns later, she''d almost made it. Her thighs burned from supporting the weight of her upper body in a crouched position for so long. She needed to round just one last corner and there would be a side door leading outside. From there it was a few dozen more feet, a quick sprint, to the stable sheltering her horse.

    Two years without her mother, two years without a mentor she could look up to, and most importantly, two years of the supposed ten year limit that her mother had. Black lines were beginning to show on Sar''tara''s hands and feet. The physics said that it would continue to spread until it reached her heart, at which point she would succumb to the poison entirely. Elizia still had so much more that she wanted to learn from her mother. It was becoming increasingly likely that Sar''tara wouldn''t wake before Elizia had stepped well into adulthood. I''ll make you proud, mother. You''ll wake up to see a daughter who''s known and feared across Illusterra and revered at home just as you were.

    She rounded the corner and collided into the hard leather vest of a guard. Elizia fell on her rear and half the arrows in her quiver spilled out. The guard had his sword halfway drawn when she pulled her hood back. "Wait! It''s just me!" she cried.

    The guard squinted at her. "Lady Elizia? What are you doing this late into the night?"

    "I just wanted to practice," she quickly said, heart racing.

    "You ought to sleep, my lady. Don''t you have to teach new recruits in the morning?"

    She rolled her eyes. Kalin had set her to teaching rather than allowing her out on scouting missions or border patrol. He was afraid of letting her out. Elizia felt caged. It wasn''t fair. She couldn''t put her abilities to use. Trained recruits were allowed out on the field at as early as sixteen years of age to gain experience. "Well, yes. I''m just¡­" she quickly thought of something to say. "It''s a little daunting. You know, I''m just a seventeen year old girl. There''s this one particular recruit¡­ he''s really dashing. Father expects a lot from me because of my talent and I just don''t want to disappoint. It''d be awkward to fail in front of all those boys too. I already have a hard time getting them to listen to me." Scorched children! What in cinders am I saying?? She feared her erratic heartbeat would expose her lies.

    The guard laughed. For some reason, it irritated her. "So even the young lady worries about such things. I would have never guessed, given how you conduct yourself. Don''t stay out too long or you''ll get dark circles under your eyes."

    Elizia gave her best shy laugh and almost choked on her own breath. Given how I conduct myself? What in Flaming skirts is that supposed to mean? The guard walked away and she realized she was breathing heavily and sweating as well. Her legs had gone rigid from fear. She gathered her fallen ammunition and stumbled on her way to the side door.

    Cool sowing season air relaxed her nerves once outside. Three near to full moons hung in the sky like a trio of lost treasures drifting in a dark and boundless sea. Elizia carefully peered at every corner for anyone that might''ve questioned her. There was no one in sight. Guards atop the fortress walls were facing outwards. As long as they didn''t turn, it wouldn''t be an issue.

    Elizia''s growing height along with her trained legs gave her one of the most powerful sprints in the entire garrison. Few of her father''s soldiers could best her in a fifty yard race. She pulled her hood up and darted towards the stables like the shadow of an eagle gliding beneath silver jewels. She came to a halt before the stable gates, pressing her back to them to hide beneath the dark of its roof, breathing heavily. No one called out. No one shouted. She hadn''t been spotted.

    Elizia smiled at the familiar smell of hay and horses as she stepped inside. The animals took little notice of her. Her face was a regular one and they weren''t bothered by it. She walked to the third stabled horse; A dark brown male with powerfully built legs. Valor she''d named him. Kalin had given him to her as a gift for her sixteenth birthday. A hardy creature from the Mahjur Deserts. He wasn''t very large as far as warhorses go, but he was one of the fastest in the entire fortress and had the stamina to match. Valor was sitting down when she arrived. He instantly stood up. Elizia hugged his head and stroked his neck. "Hush. Don''t make a sound."

    Valor brought his neck low and sniffed around her cloak. She took out one of the apples that she''d hidden in her pockets. "Our secret. Be a good boy and stay still for a moment or I won''t give it to you." He did as he was told. Elizia strapped a saddle to him and tied her two quivers to his side. She avoided putting a bit in his mouth. Valor was smart. He knew when he needed to run and when his rider required him to stop. She fed him the apple just as the stable doors creaked open, moonlight spilling in. Her heart jumped. She quickly removed her bow and threw it to the side before the doors were fully opened. She pretended to ignore the person and took out another apple to feed Valor, who snatched it between his teeth happily.

    "Lady Elizia?"

    She turned to face the newcomer, heart pounding. "Oh, Captain Faren. What brings you here at this time?"

    "I could ask much the same. Though it seems a little obvious. You really love that horse don''t you? You shouldn''t spoil him too much. Too many apples aren''t good for these creatures." He walked past her, stopping two stalls down.

    Elizia clutched the sides of her cloak to hide her clothes from him, lest it be revealed that she wore hard leather over a shirt rather than a night gown.

    "I''m just here to check my own horse," he said. "Dawn isn''t far off. This will be my first major task as the head of Lady Sar''tara''s unit."

    Elizia tried to slow her breaths. Her eyes went to Valor''s saddle. Faren hadn''t been paying attention to it. He would almost certainly ask why the beast was saddled if he''d noticed. She feigned ignorance and tried to keep the conversation going. "Task?"

    "You mean you haven''t heard? Border patrol spotted a full legion of five thousand down by the ruins of Ekvatana. There are also reports of more arriving at the fortress of Cayra every day. Seems Tarmia''s preparing for a campaign. They were dragging a number of siege engines across the river before their army had made it across. They want the ruined city to use as a fort, I assume.

    "Seems a bit hasty with a mere legion following," Elizia commented. She was, of course, aware of everything.

    "A prelude to prod at our defenses likely," Faren said. "Though the fact they''re throwing siege engines suggests they''re at least halfway serious. It could grow into something disasterous if we aren''t careful. The Lord Commander''s tasked me with removing the threat before any reinforcements can back the legion, which we expect soon. Hopefully we can stall any potential large scale invasion they appear to be planning."

    "I see," Elizia said. Ekvatana was a city ruined during the ancient War of Ashes. It had never been repopulated in the many thousands of years since. It was about twenty-five leagues from Arcaeus and served as an outpost near the border.

    Faren cast a sidelong glance as he checked over his own steed. "Commander Rask and the Lord Commander suspect a trap. That''s why we, er, Lady Sar''tara''s unit is being sent. We have the fastest horses and can escape if the situation becomes dangerous."

    Elizia found herself relaxed all of a sudden, her thoughts going back to what Faren had just said. "Siege engines," she echoed. "Towers or catapults?" It was towers, she knew, but she kept Faren talking, hoping it took his mind away from her.

    "Towers," he confirmed. "Strange, isn''t it? They must have constructed the towers near the river but far enough from our patrol. Still a lengthy and expensive effort to not follow through with sending more soldiers to follow the towers. It''s almost like way back then. These recent attacks have Kazir''s name written¡­" He paused, looking at Elizia again.

    Faren clearly didn''t mean to mention Kazir. The man rumored to be behind mother''s poisoning. Except he was supposed to be blind. She''d heard the story many a time. About how both her mother and father had fought the assassin together. About how Kalin had dealt the final blow, slashing through the enemy''s eyes.

    "If only I hadn''t left her that night¡­" the captain muttered.

    "Faren. It''ll be fine. Stop looking at your flaws. I haven''t seen anyone try as hard as you." Except me of course. "I don''t blame you for mother''s condition. And neither does my father. You should stop blaming yourself. Stop looking behind and work towards what you can do. What you can improve."

    He scratched his horse''s neck. "I''m too negative aren''t I? I''m sorry, your highness. I think I''ll always blame myself for that night. But you''re right. I should look to improve. I am a soldier of Xenaria."

    "Right. I''ll support you every step of the way!" Elizia snapped her mouth shut, not meaning to say that. It just came out. She had briefly forgotten that she was trying to hide. She stood still while the captain looked over his own saddle.

    Faren walked past her again, a smile of sorrow touching his lips. He paused by the stable''s entrance, moonlight stretching long his shadow. "Are you coming?" he asked.

    Elizia froze. Does he know? The man cocked his head to the side. She breathed a quick sigh of relief when realizing what he meant. "No, I''ll spend a little more time with Valor before heading to bed."

    "It''ll be morning soon. Don''t wear yourself out."

    Elizia finally relaxed her tensed muscles as the door creaked shut and darkness enveloped her once more. She retrieved her bow, picking off strands of hay that''d gotten stuck in between the string and the wood, and counted to three hundred before slowly leading her horse outside of the stables.

    Once out, she mounted and set Valor to a trot. She bound her hair into a bun before pulling up the hood to her cloak as the horse neared the fortress gates. Anxiety and excitement thrummed beneath her skin. The gatekeepers had no reason to question her. There were messengers and scouts frequently leaving and entering the garrison at odd times these days. As long as no one was capable of seeing her face, she was confident that she could get out.

    The guards noticed her approaching and called to open the gates. The deep clinking of turning gears and a rising portcullis echoed through the quiet night air. A thick gate opened inward shortly after. Valor passed through the shadow of the arch. Elizia thought she was free when a guard from atop the walls called out.

    "Hold! Are you a messenger or a scout? Neither should be carrying two full quivers."

    Elizia panicked. She considered forcing Valor to run. That wasn''t an option. She''d immediately be considered a suspicious individual and would be hunted down.

    Expose herself?

    Also not an option. Word would reach her father before the sun rose. The gate guards were especially strict. She had never managed to befriend any of them. She cleared her throat and tried speaking in a deep voice. "I am to scout beyond the Ekvatana Outpost in preparation for Captain Faren''s mission come morning. I''ve been told to station myself at the Outpost afterwards." That last part made no sense. El, you idiot! That was the single worst lie you could have come up with.

    "I see. Carry on."

    Elizia was shocked. "That worked?" she said aloud in her normal voice as Valor trotted along.

    "Pardon?"

    "Oh, sorry. Nothing." She urged her horse to start picking up speed. She didn''t look back. She was too afraid to. Moments passed. There were no shouts. No horns or bells. She was safe. For now that is. Once she had gotten at the bottom of the Peak, she steered Valor towards the Outpost.

    ***

    Dawn began to break on the second morn since Elizia''s departure. Her eyes stung from a lack of proper rest. By now, her father would''ve realized she were missing, perhaps even correctly assuming where it was she''d gone, but the dead itself would rise from the ground before anyone would drag Elizia''s back.

    The broken walls of Ekvatana came into view as Elizia slowed her horse to a trot. The stone was grey with age, cracked in many places with green grown over it. Why the city had never been rebuilt, Elizia did not know. The tall towers of the ancient city still stood, and despite its broken walls, the place functioned as a fortress of sorts that the Empire couldn''t ignore if it meant to launch a campaign. Its interior was akin to a labyrinth for enemies.

    Elizia wanted to access the towers. But she couldn''t enter the ruins. No one was to know that she was here. There were at least a thousand Xenarian soldiers inside of the Outpost at all times. A measly hundredth of House Serene''s forces, but enough to defend the maze within from haphazard attacks.

    If they want to break the outpost, catapults would be far more effective. So why towers? Appealing bait?

    Elizia around the city''s perimeter, hiding herself amidst a cluster of trees and the sky began to lighten. She dared to get closer to the enemy encampment while the sun had not fully risen. She was armed with her bow, but her quiver was left with Valor. Her only weapon was a soldier''s dagger at her waist. She crept up a steep incline and lay on her belly when she reached the top.

    Elizia took out a small spyglass that she had stolen from her father''s office and looked down at the Empire''s forces. They were camped by the riverbank. There were four siege towers standing tall like giant pillars within the camp. Dozens of oxen had been used to pull the large machines and drag them across the only stone crossing in the area. Further yet, a number of catapults were being constructed at the very moment by Empire engineers.

    A little north of here was where mother was famed for felling several dozen Ivory Hussars, Elizia thought.

    A full legion, fully armed, rested below. Several hundred were riders. They were serious about destroying the Outpost. The attack would begin at sunrise.

    But something didn''t add up. Surely they weren''t expecting to get away with this assault without expecting reinforcements from Arcaeus. What was the plan? Siege the outpost, take it, then hold it from any reinforcements? Then what was the point of using towers from a broken wall? Elizia looked to the ruined city through her monocular, trying to figure why towers were needed. Through cracks in the wall, all she saw was more grey beyond it. Could it be that her father had had a second layer of walls constructed behind the first?

    Why wasn''t I told of this?

    Elizia retreated back to where she had left Valor, feeling a sense of deprivation. If Ekvatana was being turned into a second frontier fortress, why wouldn''t that information be made known to her? She bit back a feeling anguish. She was knowingly being kept in the dark.

    Kalin still awaited the queen''s order to launch an offensive. Elizia wasn''t fond of her father''s passive response to the relentless attacks. She understood the need to avoid a campaign into Tarmia''s heartland. It would be too much a burden on all of Xenaria and many other nobles were against it. But Metsiphon had more than enough resources to mount counter attacks. Instead, the duke simply took on a reactionary role, and now she found that instead of attacking, funds were being put toward tightening defenses.

    Elizia planned to change that. Even if this attack was a trap, she would not run. The garrison''s veterans still told stories of over a decade past. Of their Shining General conquering scheme after scheme. Of the Wolf of Metsiphon ravaging the frontlines. Of The Huntress and how she''d single handedly turned the tides of battles by felling key targets from a distance. These were legends that Elizia had grown up hearing. Legends of her own parents and their soldiers. She wanted to be a part of that. Wanted her own name admired and remembered in that same way.

    It wasn''t long before she felt the ground tremble. Dust clouds rose behind her. Faren''s unit was here. She continued to observe everything with her spyglass. Some four thousand or so horsemen stopped outside the walls of the Outpost. The rest must be patrolling for a hidden ambush.

    The captain himself went inside, presumably to use the towers and gauge the enemy''s numbers and positioning. The Tarmian legion positioned themselves with their backs to the bridge. They were moderately armed, wearing leather for the most part with thick wood shields. Their lances were short and not particularly ideal to prevent a cavalry charge, and their riders were divided in two groups at the side. Faren came out, leaving a spare two hundred of his unit near the city as reserves. He then ordered a charge towards the enemy.

    A smoke signal rose from Tarmia''s camp. A signal to whom? The captain should''ve surveyed the area before engaging¡­

    Faren wheeled his forces around, trying to pepper the enemy van with arrows rather than run straight into their spears. The tactic didn''t prove very effective as Tarmia''s back lines returned fire. Elizia expected the captain to withdraw, but he instead split the unit further in half, using one half to slam into the legion''s side while the other half continued their rain of artillery from the other side.

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    As expected, Tarmia''s riders moved, though greatly outnumbered. They flanked Faren''s unit, prodding at the well guardied rear with spears, but fearing commitment to a visceral melee. A violent battle engulfed their infantry lines. The small black forms of the Empire''s lines were getting pushed further and further back. They resisted well, managing to break Faren''s momentum and halt his charge almost entirely, but at the current rate, their legion would soon be devoured by noon.

    Morning hours passed and Elizia stood still, observing, sweating, despite not having done anything. The air around her felt thick though she were nowhere near the skirmish site. A southward gust blew past her, making her shiver as she watched, feeling useless. She wanted to go, wanted to be a part of it all, but from down below, the sounds clashing of metals and the screams of dying men reached far, penetrating her breast and making her blood run cold. It''s okay. We''re winning. I don''t need to take part.

    That thought made her feel like a coward. She was nothing like her mother. She''d been told all about it. All about how Sar''tara had sprung into action for the first time, disobeying Kalin''s orders and facing down dozens of mounted riders all on her own. What am I in comparison?

    While Elizia wallowed in her own lack of will, three large dromons sailed down the Cinder River at an unbelievable pace. They rode the favorable winds and their sails held the Red Hand of the Emperor. Oars sticking out the sides suggested a slave crew beneath deck laboring to push the vessels to ridiculous speeds.

    Elizia felt a sudden lack of moisture in her mouth. The ships anchored, letting loose wide and thick gangplanks that connected the vessels to land. Javelin bearing Empire cavalry poured out down ramps ¡ªabout three hundred per ship. Faren was winning, the Empire legion half destroyed. But they held and did not rout, holding Faren''s soldiers down with the engagement. The Xenarians would soon become target practice if they didn¡¯t pull out. The reserve unit he had left behind entered the fray in an attempt to delay the new enemies and buy time for the others to retreat.

    Now! It''s now or never, El. You have to do this. They need you.

    Did they? Faren was competent. He''d manage somehow, right? Elizia tried hard to convince herself of the fact, tried making an excuse that would keep her from the fight. She ran her hand through Valor''s mane. I should just return, she thought while biting down hard on her lower lip. She mounted, looking to the skirmish site again. Elizia swallowed a lump of dry air. It went down slow, rumbling in her belly. She squeezed her eyes shut and snapped Valor''s reins. The horse set off, running at its highest speed. Running straight toward the Empire''s ships.

    Elizia opened her eyes a half minute later. This was it. She was too near to the enemy. They''d seen her now. She could run, but she''d be chased, and Valor had already spent much on an initial burst. She had to turn the tides herself. Had to prove herself to her father, and prove that offensives could be mounted. Nothing short of an overwhelming victory could be allowed.

    Calls for retreat sounded from behind Elizia. No! There was no reason to retreat. If Faren rallied and turned his attention to the newcomers, they could win easily using hit and run strategies. But he''s held down right now and fears he has no chance.

    The Xenarian reserves peppered mounted enemies with arrows. Javelins were hurled at them in return. Horses and men fell before their cries could be heard. The throwing game ended as both groups neared each other. A violent melee ensued, screaming beasts crashing into one another. A stalemate held for flitting moments. The Xenarians were being pushed back as more and more Empire riders joined the fray, slowly attempting to surround the small reserve squad.

    Elizia used her keen sight to identify holes in the enemy''s formation. She marked each skilled enemy. Her heart raced. Fear made her arms to tremble. This wasn''t a mock trial. She wasn''t riding through an empty field, shooting straw dummies. This was real. Too real. She''d never taken a life before. She had never fired an arrow at another with the intent to kill.

    It doesn''t matter. If she didn''t do anything, her mother''s soldiers would suffer. They would threaten Ekvatana and more Xenarian lives would be put at stake. Elizia inhaled deeply as she knocked an arrow and drew back, arms still twitching. Valor steadied his pace so that his rider wouldn''t lose her balance even with her hands off the reigns. Elizia clenched her teeth. Her arms held still for a breadth of a second. She loosed, hearing the twanging vibration of her string clearer than any pained scream of the dying. The arrow flew true, finding who she''d marked in the eye.

    She had taken her first life.

    A cold realization settled over her, the sweat beneath her garments feeling like ice water on her skin. Her hawk like vision absorbed all the action taking place in the vanguard. Thrusting spears. Clashing swords. Spraying blood. Flesh impaled and slashed. Screams of fury and pain. And amidst it all, a single arrow through an eye. The man slumped back and fell off his horse. It was sickening. But the cries of pain were more than enough to force down Elizia''s nausea. She imagined those cries to instead come from the women and children of Metsiphon. Imagined the horror of what would come if the Empire wasn''t stopped. Elizia siphoned air into her lungs. And nocked again.

    The following shots were easier to make. She felled man after man in key locations, allowing the Xenarians to hold the line and eventually rout their foes, forcing them to regroup. It still wasn''t enough, however. More enemies approached from upriver. A fourth ship arrived and lowered anchor. Elizia alone charged towards new descending Tarmian cavalry. She turned before she reached them and twisted her body, picking off their vanguard one by one by firing arrows behind her. Javelins were thrown at her, Valor staying bare meters ahead of them.

    "It''s The Huntress! It''s Lady Sar''tara!" Xenarian soldiers cried. The reserve unit turned their attention to Elizia as they saw the lone rider slow the new wave of enemies. "Rally to The Huntress!"

    Elizia approached allied lines. "A dozen of you, break off and light the enemy siege weapons on fire. The rest of us will push back the enemy!" Elizia cried as the Xenarians received her. "Do not engage! We have superior horses. Run circles and shower arrows. I''ll kill their officers so that they don''t organize and mount a charge. We stall as long as possible for Captain Faren!"

    ***

    Captain Faren gaped as his reserve unit mounted an offensive against the enemy cavalry. They should have only delayed before retreating themselves. They had successfully routed the Empire soldiers from the first ship, forcing them back and making them regroup a short distance away. Faren thought they were drunk on a minor victory and had grown overeager. But Sar''tara''s soldiers were not so inexperienced.

    He saw her then. The Huntress in her full glory, charging towards a wave of enemies all on her own. "It can''t be¡­" Tears formed in his eyes. The possibility of Lady Sar''tara''s return filled him with glee. He had seen her wounded body. He was the first to discover her lying unconscious and cold, believing her to be dead. After being left to the mercy of the Decade''s Curse for over two years, she was finally back. And he was now seeing her challenge Tarmian forces as he had witnessed so many times before.

    Faren wiped his tears away, worrying that her body wouldn''t be in an ideal condition to fight after so long. The Huntress needed her captain. He wouldn''t let her down again. He screamed as he hewed Empire footmen with his sword. His blood became fire. A rush of strength filled him. The legion that''d held his unit down so long at last began to break with two thirds of them fallen. The way was cleared. "To Lady Sar''tara!" Faren cried.

    ***

    Elizia was relieved. Xenarian soldiers were following her without question. She thought it would be difficult to rally them around her, but they were her mother''s unit, and they all believed her to be Sar''tara. She didn''t bother correcting them. It was keeping morale high. She turned to see Faren finally rushing breaking free of his task with the other thirty-eight hundred he had with him, though, it seemed he was short over two hundred.

    Lives lost from our side¡­

    Further back, Elizia''s small detachment had successfully lit ablaze the siege towers. Elizia ordered her followers to move out of the way for Faren''s charge. He clashed with the Empire''s reeling cavalry while she and the reserves continued to buzz around, showering arrows upon their enemy''s exposed flank. The fight had mostly become one sided. Tarmia couldn''t rally or organize at all.

    Elizia sought out leaders of each Empire unit by their uniform and brought them down before they could adjust and shout commands. She killed their bannermen, thereby removing their ability to rally. Panic ensued, and Tarmia began to flee. Elizia didn''t let them back on their ships. She shot down anyone trying to ride back up the gangplanks. It forced them to ride along the riverbank. They eventually turned to cross the Cinder River.

    Valor slowed to a trot, sensing Elizia''s hesitation. The Empire army was making a lugged retreat through the waters. A Xenarian soldier rode up beside her. "Lady Sar''tara, are we not going to give chase?"

    Give chase? She wavered. They were enemies fleeing, fearing for their lives. Their will to fight was lost. Many of them possibly had families of their own.

    "Lady Sar''tara?"

    She wondered how it was soldiers managed to fight in the vanguard. How they endured agonizing cries and intense bloodshed so close up. Even just selecting a target and releasing a bowstring from afar was unsettling for her.

    She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Be steadfast, Elizia. These are the people that poisoned your mother. They''re soldiers. They''re not innocent. She glanced back at the site of the skirmish. At the bodies of the fallen, Xenarians and Tarmians alike. Her gaze drifted to Faren''s company and their brilliant blue banners bearing a silver eagle upon it.

    The banners flowed freely just as an eagle should.

    There was no reason to hesitate. The Empire would not cease in their attacks. Every Empire soldier slain was the same as saving a Xenarian soldier. The same as saving Xenarian citizens and ensuring they lived freely and away from bloodshed. This conflict had no middle ground. There were two sides, and only one with which she could align herself.

    She was Elizia Serene. A guardian of Xenaria. She needed to fulfill her duty. She opened her eyes and exhaled. "Hunt them down. Give no quarter!" she ordered.

    The words still left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

    The soldiers howled strange war cries at the order. Elizia had heard her mother shout similar things before. A war cry of the Selharr Vashiri people. They all charged down the riverbank and began cutting down enemies from behind. Elizia once again raised her bow and drew back the string. She had no fear of hitting her own allies. Such doubt never crossed her mind. Her arms no longer trembled, and her confidence soared. She hit all of her targets. Every single Empire soldier slain by her at that moment had fallen from an arrow to the back. They would never know the face of their killer. Never have a chance to retaliate.

    See Emeria? The bow is the superior weapon, she thought, crushing the lingering doubts about her orders with thoughts from a more mirthful time.

    Tarmia had been routed and their siege weapons burnt to cinders. Elizia had successfully managed to capture four Empire vessels as well. Her first victory ¡ªand an absolute victory. Her father would have to acknowledge her now. Instead of being relegated to mere teaching positions within the garrison, he would be forced to recognize her talent and send her out to the field.

    I will surpass you, mother.

    ***

    Blood marred Faren''s armor and blade. He rode up to The Huntress. He needed to see her face. Needed to know that his commander was still alive and well. That Lady Sar''tara had truly recovered from her plight. He stopped his grey horse just short of the dark brown one The Huntress rode. The woman before him was Sar''tara. But much younger. More refreshed and innocent looking and with brown hair instead of black. And slightly shorter¡­? "Lady Sar''tara?"

    "I''m afraid not," the woman replied. "It''s just me, Captain. I promised to support you every step of the way, remember? I meant it."

    Faren gasped. "Lady Elizia?" At such a young age, she had taken control of the soldiers and decimated the enemy forces. But it was reckless. Too reckless. Lord Serene would be upset ¡ªno, furious.

    And yet, Faren couldn¡¯t help but feel admiration. This was Sar''tara''s progeny. One with similar mind and skill. Faren was Sar''tara''s loyal right hand, and by extension, one who carried his commander''s flame deserved his absolute servitude and protection.

    He dismounted his horse. "Lady Elizia I-I cannot express, I mean¡­ From this day forth, my life belongs to you. If you''ll have me, I would serve under you. My life is yours to expend until Lady Sar''tara''s inevitable return. I will be your shield and your spear." Silent mutters ran through the rest of the soldiers. They all dismounted and knelt before the young girl. Would she accept? He failed her mother. She had every reason to¡ª

    "I would gladly have you, Captain, but that decision is not mine to make. You will have to make that request to my father. For now, sail these ships to the Grayscale Lake. Inform father of the slaves below deck. All of the siege weaponry has been thoroughly destroyed. It''s a complete victory. Gather the wounded. Let''s go back home."

    Faren got back on his horse. He turned around to see all the catapults and siege towers set ablaze, columns of smoke rising from their crumbling ruins. He had for a while been wondering where the burning smell was coming from. He hadn''t been ordered to destroy them. But Elizia had had them destroyed.

    Faren scratched his head. His new commander was now smiling wide. He shook his head. She was still young after all. It was like teaching Lady Sar''tara all over again. She would likely be expecting praise from her father, of which Lord Serene was unlikely to give any. The siege weapons were lost. Four mid-sized ships were plenty for a prize, though whether they''d be enough to appease the Lord Commander''s temper was a different matter.

    ***

    Kalin grew restless. Two mornings since his daughter had disappeared, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to where she''d run off to. He''d set her to training recruits, hoping it''d be enough to keep her busy. Oh how wrong I was.

    Regardless, she''d shirked her given duty. Such precedent would set a bad example for the recruits. Kalin paced in his office, chewing on inner cheek. The only information he had was that of a watchman spotting her late in the night two nights past. She had for certain gone to the outpost, chasing after Captain Faren.

    "What in Scorched earth was she thinking?" he muttered rhetorically. He knew exactly what. She hated teaching archery classes.

    No.

    She hated not being treated equal to her skill in general. Hated not being allowed to use the full extent of her abilities. Kalin rummaged through the papers on his desk. Faren was told to station himself there whether he succeeded in his mission or not. Someone had leaked the secret construction Kalin had ordered at the ruins. Else Tarmia would never have brought siege towers. But they only sent one legion, suggesting a possible trap. And Elizia decided to go now of all times¡­ "Argh!" he cried, running a hand through his hair.

    If only Sar''tara were here for the girl, he wouldn''t have made such stupid errors. If only he''d sent his daughter out on reconnaissance missions, she wouldn''t have gotten it in her head to partake in an actual skirmish. Kalin continued to tap his foot against the floor. Elizia had never taken a life before. There were plenty of stories of new soldiers standing paralyzed in fear amidst a battle. At worst, she would find herself in the thick of things, ruining Faren''s mission and endangering herself. At best, she''d get scared and run back home.

    As if. Elizia had pride enough for both him and Sar''tara. He could only put his faith in her and pray for a safe return.

    Kalin went over a paper he had received several days prior. A letter from Dahlia herself. She expected to hold a court meeting soon in which she planned to declare war. The First Chancellor was supposedly on board. And she had sent Azurus to Heira to spy on the Trillian Order''s leader. Dahlia was playing a dangerous game. But that much was necessary.

    The threat of the Astral Union was very real. They needed to be dealt with. By declaring war, Xenaria''s focus would be shifted to the east. It would give the Union the perfect opportunity for a hostile takeover of the nation. It seemed Dahlia wanted that. She planned to bait them by using war with the Empire as a diversion. If the Trillian Order''s heads exposed themselves all at once, they could be rounded up in one fell swoop. It was a daring plan that Kalin suspected Eildred Aegis to have had a hand in making.

    A plan he hoped would be successful. Just imagining Sar''tara one day waking up to the fact that her second home had been taken over by her most hated of enemies made him shudder.

    The vast majority of the plan depended on how much Azurus would be able to uncover on his own. Kalin had high hopes for the young knight as did Eildred. If the Trillian threat could be neutralized without major issue or civil distress, then the campaign into Tarmia could begin in earnest.

    Arcaeus Peak''s bell towers rung loud. Three chimes. That meant the homecoming of soldiers. Kalin looked out his window. Captain Faren had returned, and at the head of his company was Elizia, sitting upright and full of pride. "She''s so much like you, Tara," he whispered. "Too much like you. If only you had disobeyed me too that day¡­"

    Kalin awaited a formal report. It wasn''t long before his daughter entered his office, wearing a wide, gleeful smile, likely expecting praise. He planned to give her the opposite. "Speak," he commanded, standing before her with arms crossed.

    Elizia gave a full recounting of what occurred, using more words then necessary, and saying ''and then'' way too often like some scam artist of a storyteller. She especially emphasized the captured ships. Kalin still waited after she had stopped speaking. She looked as if she had more to say. He remembered that look very well. Elizia didn''t always want something. But when she did, her mouth would twitch and her eyes would wander just about everywhere but on him.

    "Father, I want to be assigned to Captain Faren''s unit," she finally said. "More specifically, he wants to serve under me."

    Expected. Faren was a loyal soldier, and though Kalin doubted anyone would question her talent, he didn''t want to promote a seventeen year old to the position of a Legion Commander. It was far too early for Elizia. "You had classes to teach this morning and the last," he said.

    "I did," she answered, her tone dismissing the matter entirely.

    It wasn''t appropriate. Letting her go would set a bad example for her. Kalin took in a deep breath. And then he slapped his daughter hard. He half expected her to cry out in rebellion as children her age would. Instead she stood mute, head tilted to the side and lips slightly parted in shock.

    Elizia blinked. She turned back to him, cupping her red cheek. He expected the outburst to occur at any moment. Instead, he was met with quivering lips and watering eyes, making his chest ache terribly.

    Kalin held his daughter''s head against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? Look. I know you want to prove yourself but¡­ Hahhh. I treated you unfairly. I''m sorry. But don''t you dare ever leave like that again without letting me know."

    "Mhm," the girl said, crying.

    "I''ll try giving you tasks suited to your abilities, alright?"

    "Mhm."

    He pulled her away. "What was it like? Your very first battle."

    She wiped her eyes. "Exhilarating," she said after a while. "And scary. Very scary. Killing a person, it''s easy not to think about it in the moment, but afterwards¡­ I don''t like it very much."

    "Is it heavy?"

    "Heavy? Yes. I-yes. It''s heavy," she admitted.

    "Good. It should always be heavy. At no point should you take pleasure in taking a life. Now, was being restricted the only reason you decided to go out without consulting me?"

    She looked away. "Yes."

    Kalin''s eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms again. "You have a habit of averting my gaze when lying. Tell me the truth, Elizia."

    "I believe you''re being too passive!" she declared, fists closed, still looking at her feet. "Mother is¡­ she was poisoned by the Decade''s Curse. They clearly mean to torment you. It is infuriating. I don''t want to hide any longer. And instead of attacking, you''re spending resources fortifying the ruined city. A fact that was kept from me, for some reason. I''ve proven myself, father. I don''t want to be left in the dark regarding what is and isn¡¯t being done. Allow me to command Faren''s unit. Let us mount an offensive. Please."

    "An offensive on what, exactly?"

    "We could raid their countryside like they do ours. We could take from them¡ª"

    "Elizia! Did you just say raid the countryside?" Kalin demanded.

    "Er¡­ yes?"

    "And who is it that would be most affected by this?"

    The girl swallowed. She lowered her head, seeming to shrink. "Innocent peasants probably."

    "Probably?"

    "Most certainly," she grumbled.

    "Elizia, recite the Three Principles of a Leader."

    "What?"

    "Go on. You were taught this very early on, were you not?"

    She frowned, as if not understanding his intent. "Preparation, Level Headedness, and Resolve.

    "Mhm. Now, are you acting level headed?"

    "That''s besides the point," she protested. "Of course out on the field, I''ll be level¡ª"

    "Elizia!" Kalin said, raising his voice again. She flinched, shuffling back. "Answer me this. For what purpose did you destroy the Empire''s siege towers?"

    "So that they wouldn''t pose a threat?" she said after a while.

    "How exactly were they posing a threat?"

    "If we left them be, they would''ve been used to attack the Outpost."

    "But from your report, you had them burned when the tides of battle were in your favor."

    "Oh," Elizia said with blunt realization. She blinked several times as if that would absolve her of her errors.

    "It''s why I asked Captain Faren to station himself in Ekvatana after the mission. The city''s reconstruction was kept secret because I wanted it that way. You accuse me of spending uselessly on that project when Ekvatana could be useful in keeping a closer eye on the Thousand Sun City, and on the city of Ostirin. We would have two fronts from which to either attack Tarmia or defend ourselves. You''re telling me you never considered something as simple as this?"

    Elizia did not answer. She carried the look of shame in her still wet eyes.

    "So, were you, and are you as of now, acting level headed?"

    "No," she said with a barely audible whisper. Another tear fell from her eye.

    Kalin shook his head. "You''re as stubborn as your mother. This is the part where you recant your accusations of me being passive."

    Her gaze fell back to her feet. "I was too nearsighted," she mumbled.

    Kalin pulled out a map of Illusterra, spreading it out on his desk. Ekvatana would need another year at least to complete a pseudo remodification into a feasible fortress. Now that its construction had been revealed, Tarmia was unlikely to relent in its attacks. Another powerful garrison so close to their borders would be much more than a headache to them.

    Kalin''s eyes ran down the Cinder River. "Ostirin," he muttered. It was Tarmia''s only access point to the Aegis basin. "We can use the ships to cut off all goods that the Empire receives via water routes. And Ostirin is also right beside the Thousand Sun City¡­"

    "Father, we aren''t going to attack the Astral Union and the Empire are we?" Elizia slowly asked. "I know mother''s homeland was destroyed by the Union but taking them both on is reckless."

    "Of course we aren''t. Don''t let the Astral Union bother you. I was thinking of something else." He looked back at her. "You''re doing hard labor for a full cycle. Disobedience is disobedience. I can''t let my own daughter break the rules either." He paused, wondering if there''d be protest. There wasn''t. She was surprisingly good at acting the part of a model soldier at times. "This includes stabling horses, shoveling manure, cleaning the mess hall, polishing armor, whatever it is that needs doing. You''re lucky the First Princess is coming in a few days'' time. Or I would have had you laboring for two cycles." There''d been a slight twitch of her eyes when he mentioned cleaning and shoveling manure. She was still the daughter of a duke after all. My daughter. "Scratch that. I think I''ll have you do it for two nine day cycles after all. You are dismissed," he finished, taking a seat at his desk again.

    Elizia coughed, but still did not utter a word. She gave a short and formal bow before turning to leave. She stopped at the doorway. "Daddy?"

    "Mm?"

    "I''m sorry for worrying you," she said softly. With that, she was gone.

    Kalin smiled. When last she''d called him ''daddy'', she''d been nine. She''d broken the ceramic flowering pot on his desk that held Sar''tara''s everflower. Luckily, Sar''tara had managed to place the soil and flower in a new pot without damaging the flower. Elizia had cried then.

    Daddy, I''m sorry. It won''t happen again. I promise, she''d said. It had been genuine and sincere.

    Kalin eyed the everflower at the corner of his desk. It had a bright green stem and closed pale blue petals. Elizia''s blood held the same powers as her mother. He worried for her fate on the field, should she ever be wounded. Worried more about her alikeness to her mother attracting Kazir''s attention, should rumors of The Huntress spread again. It was something he''d need to shut down.

    He leaned back in his chair, hands at the back of his head, eyes closed. "When will you wake, Tara?" he mused.

 Chapter 54: Reunion (Book 2, Chapter 17)

    <u>Chapter 17 - Reunion</u>

    Emeria let out constant sighs. She was stuck in a box again. And a handsome blue eyed knight was not riding alongside her carriage. Thus was her return to Arcaeus Peak eventless.

    Bored, she unsheathed her weapon. She ran a finger along the polished surface of the thin sword. Her fifteenth birthday gift from Azurus. Her face burned when recalling him down on one knee, holding the sword above his head to her. It was perfectly balanced for her size and strength. It had a lovely gold colored guard and a green hilt with his name etched into it. Something to remember him by. She smiled as she traced each letter in the etching.

    It wasn''t fair. He was being reassigned somewhere and she didn''t even know where. He''d just disappeared. When asking her mother, the queen dismissed the matter with a wave. Emeria didn''t have a newly assigned knight either. The dismissal was very obviously due to the rumors surrounding her relations with Azurus. And no one else was being assigned to her because of possible new rumors that could arise. Emeria hugged herself. She missed him already. Missed his powerful arms, his boundless sky eyes, and the way he kissed her neck. Life felt like a void without him at her side.

    She was at least glad to finally return to Arcaeus Peak. She hadn''t seen her only other friend in over two years. Whispers of Elizia partaking in a recent skirmish had reached Emeria''s convoy. She felt envious for it. She''d been stuck getting used to high society and learning of her future duties for the past two years while El could traipse about on adventures. Life was wholly unfair to Emeria of late.

    Strange though that someone like Lord Kalin would allow his daughter to take to the fields after what''d befallen his wife. Emeria prayed for Lady Sar''tara''s swift recovery, for the lack of her presence was just another part of life''s harsh thorns.

    Emeria sheathed her sword. She feared her time in Exaltyron had dulled her martial skills. She''d hardly had enough time to practice at all. The royal convoy passed through the gates of the garrison and Emeria jumped out of her carriage before it stopped moving, her feet hitting the damp, sowing season ground with a squish, mud splattering around the sides of her knee high boots. The air carried the smell of wet soil, horses, and freshly oiled metals. She ran past her black armored Queen''s Guard escorts and flashed a smile at the one leading them. Sir Draumen shook his head as he dismounted from his horse.

    Emeria recognized many familiar faces. Some of the garrison''s roaming guard patrols greeted her from afar and waved in her direction. She waved back at them. It was as if she had never left. They still remembered her.

    She spotted Elizia by the stables, shaking her head at a young man. "El!" she cried, flailing her arms above her head with an open mouth grin spreading ear to ear. Her blue cloak billowed behind her as she ran forward.

    Elizia waved back and smiled. It slowly turned into a frown followed by widening eyes as Emeria didn''t slow at all. She jumped towards the other girl and hugged her tight, forcing Elizia to fall back on a pile of hay. Emeria then pushed herself up and stared into her friend''s dark green eyes. She crinkled her nose. "You stink, El," she said, noticing the dirt upon Elizia''s cheek and her sweat matted skin. The top of her buttoned shirt was undone.

    "Father has me doing labor," Elizia said as she rose to her feet. "He wasn''t very happy with me sneaking off."

    "Pfft. The duke has his own daughter, what? Shoveling manure?" Emeria burst out laughing, earning herself a glare. She slapped Elizia''s back to rid it of stray bits of hay. Something didn''t quite feel right. Elizia was different. Overwhelming even. Almost as if¡­ Flames! She''s two inches taller than I am. And curvier.

    "Where''s Xenaria''s future king? I don''t see Azurus anywhere?"

    Emeria blushed. "I don''t know. Mother dismissed him because of the rumors about him and I. He''s been assigned elsewhere. I don''t mean for this to be the end. I don''t care what mother says. I''ll find Azurus one way or another. By the way, who were you just speaking to?"

    "The Second Chancellor''s third son. To be honest, I don''t even know his name. He brings me flowers often, mostly dandelions from the training field, and reads crude poems to me. As if I was some city raised noble girl.

    "Grumpy Marco''s third¡­ Adelem Aurelin?"

    "That sounds about right," Elizia said."

    "Flowers and poems seems like deep affection to me," Emeria teased, elbowing her friend''s side. "Give him a chance. Couldn''t hurt now, could it?"

    "He''s a bit simple minded," Elizia said. "I do feel guilty for refusing him. Both of his brothers died fighting the Empire. He''s been trying to enlist himself into my unit."

    "You have your own unit!?"

    "Yes. Well, it was my mother''s. It''s a long story."

    "We have a lot of time," Emeria said with a childlike enthusiasm. Elizia gave a pretend sigh, though seeming rather relieved to be doing something other than hard labor. She recounted her adventures of sneaking out of the garrison and taking part in repelling an Empire legion. Emeria let her imagination run free, though not free of envy. Hearing a firsthand account of the event was better than any rumor she''d heard on her way to Arcaeus ¡ªalmost like hearing Lady Sar''tara''s stories again. It was, though, easy to tell which parts were exaggerated. Elizia downplayed her blunders and puffed out her chest when speaking of the ships she managed to capture. "You make it sound so fun. I wish I could have my own adventures."

    "I¡­ suppose there is a certain thrill," Elizia said. "A rush of adrenaline that can get you excited. Honestly, Emma, it was scary. We lost a over a hundred good men and several times that are recovering in the infirmary wards." She paused and twisted her mouth as if biting her inner cheek. "I took lives. Some of them never even got to see my face. And you''re a swordsman¡­"

    "What''s that supposed to mean?"

    Elizia shook her head. "I''m not demeaning you in any extent. I wasn''t even on the frontlines and I found it frightening. I could see it, Emma. I could see the carnage at the van. The screams, the gore¡­ It''s not like how I imagined when hearing stories from mother."

    Emeria wasn''t buying it. Though, El did look a bit grim. She didn''t press the topic. "What''s it like having inherited your mother''s name? Elizia the Huntress. Makes me jealous."

    "No one here calls me that anymore. Father explicitly forbade it. Said it would put a target on my back."

    Emeria frowned. Their joyous conversation had taken a wrong turn. She tried changing the subject again. "Is the Wolf around? I feel like I haven''t stretched my limbs in ages. I want to spar again."

    "You mean Commander Rask? I''m sure he''ll be delighted to see you." Elizia led the way through the garrison''s various halls, whistling, no longer hiding her mirth to be away from her tasks.

    Emeria felt a wave of nostalgia as she walked through the fortress. Cramped as the corridors might seem now, they were massive to her as a child. The old grey walls held the fondest of her childhood memories. It was unfortunate, but her mapping competition with Elizia never had a conclusion. Emeria didn''t bother bringing it up, fearing El was now much better acquainted with the fortress'' interior than herself.

    The two of them arrived at the duke''s office to find Commander Jengard Rask and an elderly gentleman, seated before Kalin. Elizia cleared her throat. "Announcing the entrance of Emeria Lakris, First Princess and Royal Heir of Xenaria," she said sarcastically.

    The announcement earned smiles from everyone but Kalin, who scowled. "Dearest daughter, I do believe you''ve tasks that need attending."

    Elizia cringed, trying to shrink herself down to Emeria''s level.

    "One of the kitchen washboys has come down with a malady," the high lord waved. "See to it the kitchen staff are given the aid they need."

    Emeria bit her tongue to stop from laughing. There were never a shortage of hungry bellies at the garrison. El''s going to be washing dishes all day.

    "It''s good to see her highness again," the elderly man said. He was of milk-white hair and had a long and thin beard. He held a walking cane in one hand, though his figure was a large one matching Lord Kalin''s, if only with slumped shoulders.

    Emeria gave a terse bow. "Er, forgive me but I don''t quite recognize you¡­"

    "That''s Lord Ravaya," Elizia whispered. "The grumpy old man from the small library on the second floor."

    Ravaya? Ravager Ravaya from fifty years ago? That name was synonymous with histories dating back to Lord Kalin''s grandfather. He has to be past eighty.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "I''m not quite so old to have lost my hearing, Lady Serene," Ravaya said, his deep voice holding only a slight rasp come from age. He stood slowly, leaning on his cane and shuffling toward the door. "Do excuse me. I''ve my books to return to."

    Emeria frowned at the scars crossing the man''s cheeks as he passed. "Is that the scary scar man?" she whispered to Elizia. The both of them had once caused a scene in the second floor library when they were about ten years of age.

    "The same," Elizia said.

    Rask began to rise as well, his expression one of exhaustion. "If you''ll excuse me Lord Serene, I should be off soon to escort my daughters back home. They''ll be wanting to see their mother again."

    Emeria waited long enough for Rask to have walked past her. She then jumped onto his massive back and clung on as if she were a child. "Rask, fight me! Please, please, please? I''m sooo bored. You''re not afraid are you? I''ll tell everyone you''re afraid if you say no!"

    Kalin chuckled. "It''s like you have a third daughter, Jengard."

    Rask let out a long sigh. "Just what I wanted to avoid."

    The Wolf had three children of his own, Emeria knew. A son entering adulthood and two twin daughters that would be in their early teens about now. They lived in a village a few dozen miles north of Metsiphon. "Your daughters are here?" she asked.

    "They''re apprenticing as physics," Kalin explained. "With all due respect your highness, you''ve only just arrived. Perhaps resting and postponing your spars until Rask returns."

    Emeria stuck her tongue out at him, giggling at his shocked expression.

    Elizia''s mouth twitched, but she didn¡¯t say anything. She followed Rask down the many stairs and outside as he walked to an open courtyard, Emeria still riding on his back. The garrison''s soldiers didn''t seem to care about the odd sight. They kept their eyes glued to the floor and gave courteous bows as Rask walked by. Afraid of Rask, or are they men I bested in duels two years ago?

    Emeria finally jumped off and stared at a rack of training weapons. The only thing remotely matching her thin sword was a blunt cutlass.

    "Daddy, are we leaving now?" a feminine voice asked from behind.

    Emeria turned to see two girls wearing the plain blue garb of the garrison. They both had dark hair and heart shaped faces, rosy cheeks and lips a lush pink. "There is no way those are his daughters," Emeria whispered to Elizia.

    "I thought the same," Elizia said.

    Rask chose a thick two-handed broadsword from the weapon rack, waving the weapon with his wrist as if it weighed no different than a knife. The same weapon Azurus wielded. "Soon," he told his daughters. "Unfortunately our esteemed First Princess has demanded a sparring match with me. And you, Elizia," he said turning, "were ordered to the kitchens I do believe."

    Elizia grumbled a curse. "Good luck," she mumbled, stalking off.

    Emeria felt her heartrate ramp up. The hilt of the cutlass felt strange in her hands. It was slightly larger than her own sword. Rask''s daughters approached her. Emeria flinched back, expecting snobbery or even a veiled insult from all her time spent in high society with noblewomen full of pride.

    The two girls curtsied. "Your highness," they said in unison. They had an odd country accent. They regarded Emeria with wide eyes as if she were a piece of expensive jewelry to be ogled at.

    "Er, sorry for stealing your father," Emeria said.

    "Not at all," the rightmost girl said, smiling.

    "It''s the princess. It''s actually Princess Emeria," the second said in a hushed tone full of awe."

    Was she worth that much attention, Emeria wondered, scratching her head. Right. Most peasants go their entire lives only hearing of the High Lords and the Queen. They don''t usually get to meet them. It said much about Rask, rising to his current station from peasant status. Yet for some odd reason he did not move his family to a better home in Metsiphon despite his current wealth. "Could I have your names?"

    "Corina."

    "Eleen."

    Emeria nodded. She undid her cloak and handed it Corina, who regarded it like one would precious pet, folding it neatly and caressing its velvet surface with a careful gentleness.

    Eleen, the more gutsy of the two, rushed to Emeria''s side. "Might I bind your hair for you, your highness?" she asked, very eager.

    Emeria nodded, relieved at how at home she felt with these girls.

    Eleen tied the long golden mass with relative experience. "Daddy took an arrow to his left thigh sometime during early winter," she whispered, with a mischevious grin. "Barely a scratch so far as I''ve heard. Probably Healed by now, but something to remember."

    Emeria nodded, returning the smile. The twins backed away, standing at the edge of the courtyard. Curiously, Emeria spotted Elizia running around gathering a crowd of soldiers to spectate rather then head for the kitchens. Emeria felt her cheeks color as she stared after El. Both girls were wearing similar trousers, but El''s were more of a tight fit due to her well trained muscles. Emeria found herself feeling a pang of jealousy at her friend''s admirable figure. Maybe it was a good thing Azurus wasn''t here. He did have a habit of ogling at the Second Princess'' mother in the past.

    Rask shook his head as an audience began to form. He scowled at Elizia as she gave a wave and disappeared.

    "Afraid of losing?" Emeria mocked. She approached the courtyard''s center, feeling more confident now.

    "Your highness is talented," Rask said. "I don''t mind a loss. I would, however, mind the potential effect it would have on the soldiers'' morale if they see their Commander losing. I''m afraid I won''t be holding back if you''re going through the trouble of gathering a crowd." He scratched his unshaven chin. Something he did when he was nervous.

    Emeria flashed her most charming smile. "Isn''t it expected for the student to surpass their teacher? Please hold your defeat with pride, Commander. Look at it like this. The soldiers will be all the more inspired to learn that their future queen is both beautiful and strong! Also, your daughters are totally in my camp."

    The large man bellowed. "Those are some big words for before the fight''s even begun. Don''t tell me you''ve forgotten all those times Lady Sar''tara allowed me to put you and Elizia over my knee when you two acted out of line. You''re still just a child in my eyes, your highness. Hardly any different than my own mischievous daughters," he said, taking a brief glance at the twins.

    Emeria''s temper flared. She took a readied stance. The ground had been trampled upon, grass bits embedded into loamy soil not yet fully dried. Both Azurus and Rask were much bigger than her. And they used that to their advantage. They would use her lack of training against her to tire her out. She wasn''t going to let that happen this time. Emeria stood still as the match began. She waited for her opponent to make the first move. Rask seemed amused at her patience. She would normally charge in without a second''s thought.

    "Pardon the intrusion, your highness," Rask said, stepping forward. "But if you won''t move, then I will."

    Come on then. I''m ready this time. Or so she thought. The Wolf closed the distance faster than she''d anticipated. She barely managed to parry a wide horizontal swing. Her reflexes had dulled. Emeria stumbled back several feet, barely staying standing. A dull and painful vibration ran along her arms ¡ªwhich were a fraction the size of Rask''s. The impact had chipped the edge of her weapon. Such monstrous strength¡­

    "Patience and hesitation are two different things. You refused to charge me because you believed you had a plan. Because we''ve sparred before and you know how I will fight to defeat a more nimble opponent like yourself. It''s good to think things through. But you need to be capable of making split second decisions, your highness. The field is no place for overthinking. You hesitated. That was your error. You''re better than that. Imagine all possibilities and be prepared to react accordingly. Now, come at me like you mean it!" he roared.

    Imagine all possibilities. He almost sounds like Grand Chamberlain Finral. Emeria shook her head. Rask was the one who didn''t originally want to spar. It was as if he had a completely different personality when holding a sword in his hands. Any nervousness she''d sensed had disappeared entirely.

    Emeria was grateful for the lesson. She gathered her resolve and crouched low, getting ready to lunge. "Thanks for the advice. Don''t regret not having beaten me while I was hesitating!" She fluttered around him, lunging in bursts with her toes and fitting in small strikes when seeing an opening. All of them were parried. But she was only getting started. Her feet began shuffling faster. Her movements grew ever more graceful. They remembered. Her body remembered all that she''d taught it. Her arms moved in synchrony to her legs. She twisted on her heels, spinning to avoid attacks while prodding with short burst thrusts just as a fencer. Emeria fell into a trance as the rhythm came back to her. As music echoed through the depths of her mind as it echoes along the walls of a vibrant ballroom.

    "That''s¡­ more like it," Rask said as he struggled to keep up with her speed. His breathing was getting heavier.

    Emeria knew that she''d be at a disadvantage soon. Her opponent wasn''t the only one who was tiring. She tried hiding her own quick breaths. Her lungs began to burn. Her lack of training showed as the music in her mind faded away. Her legs grew heavy as if weighed by iron shackles.

    Rask took the opportunity to go on the offensive. Emeria did her best to dodge his heavy attacks. He was fast despite his size. And his swordsmanship, while crude compared to hers, graceful still in the eyes of most others.

    It wasn''t long before Emeria found herself completely on the back foot. All she could do was sidestep Rask''s swings. He raised his longsword above his head and brought it down in a vertical arc with a heavy attack that could probably kill, knowing that Emeria would easily move out of the way. Such an attack left his torso wide open. Emeria raised her arm to attack but Rask did something she didn''t expect. He let go of his weapon and swept his massive hand sideways, pushing Emeria off of her feet before she could react.

    She fell on her rear but didn''t let that dissuade her. She used the opportunity to roll back to gain distance and stand up once again. Rask had anticipated this. He had already picked up his fallen longsword and was charging towards her again. Emeria ducked beneath a one armed swing aimed at her neck, leaving herself wide open to getting kicked square in the gut. She had full confidence that Rask wouldn''t dare kick Xenaria''s First Princess. She began rising, seeing her path to victory. A short thrust towards the base of his throat. There was no chance of him dodging back in time with his arm outstretched and body off balance. She would stop her blade just short of his neck.

    But it wasn''t to be.

    A heavy boot struck her in the gut. She fell back, coughing. Emeria opened her eyes to see the tip of the longsword pointed at her face. "Never make assumptions in a battle. Only act on certainty."

    "You kicked me! You actually kicked me!" she complained. She pouted, feeling a deep sense of annoyance at the dirt on her clothes and a deeper sense of annoyance at her loss. Rask''s twins began booing their father from the side. They made faces and Emeria too, like the proper noblewomen she was, stuck her tongue out at him.

    "I kicked you to teach you a lesson. Come now. The ground is no place for a princess."

    "You put me there," she mumbled. "Carry me to the infirmary. I''m exhausted. And hurt. Hurt inside. You really kicked me." Emeria crossed her arms, still sitting on her rear. Rask sighed and picked her up.

    "You''re terrible, father," Corina said, still holding Emeria''s blue cloak.

    "Yeah. Terrible. I''m going to tattle to Lord Kalin. You kicked our princess."

    Rask sighed. "Where''s our young knight? Shouldn''t Azurus be carrying you?"

    Emeria puffed her cheeks and turned her head, playing every part of a spoiled girl. "He was dismissed somewhere," she grumbled.

    Rask looked away. "Dismissed? Hmm. Well, if anyone can take care of themselves, it''s him," he mumbled.

    Emeria narrowed her eyes, studying him. Rask seemed to know something more on the matter than she did. But she couldn''t ask anything. Not yet anyway. She was still upset after all.

 Chapter 55: A Knights Morals (Book 2, Chapter 18)

    <u>Chapter 18 - A Knight''s Morals</u>

    Azurus peered down a sunlit field of thriving brush as he neared the Draumen estate. He gently tugged on Eleanoire''s reins, reminding the black mare for the hundredth time to not stray from the road to feed on fresh grass. Heira''s walls crested the horizon from his position on horseback. The city lay opposite of Blackridge River.

    Heira housed a great palace rivalling the one in Exaltyron. Once a summer vacationing home by the royal family of Xenaria, the palace had since been abandoned following the deposing of High House Zz''tai. Maintenance had been left to Heira''s governor until some five years ago. Queen Dahlia had given charge of it to the Order of Trillia to use as a temple, making it the largest temple the Order had in their possession. Domed rooftops of the temple stood taller than Heira''s walls. Azurus assumed her majesty now regretted her decision.

    He took a drink from his waterskin, grateful to be at the end of his long journey. The average caravan carrying burdens from Exaltyron to Heira was expected to take the better part of two months. Azurus though, unburdened by anything and travelling light, had managed to cut that timeframe in half with the aid of his specially bred Queen''s Guard horse. The black beasts were of an ancient line, powerful enough to carry armored knights, but not quite the match in stamina to mounts from the deserts.

    The Draumen estate was a humble sight compared to the mansions Azurus had seen in the capital. Creeping ivy wrapped itself around cracked stone walls. A wisp of smoke rose from a small square chimney. Tulips of all colors were set in an array before the front of the house. To the right was a large maple tree. A swing had been tied to a thick branch and Sir Draumen''s five year old nephew, Cadril, was happily sitting on it while a maid pushed him from behind.

    Azurus dismounted before the manor gates. He felt somewhat bare. His longsword was hidden beneath his travel pack rather than carried at his waist. His armor was left behind at the capital. The only weapon in his possession was a small paring knife in the pockets of his trousers which he''d purchased from a travelling peddler he''d met on the road. With it he''d bought a worn cloak which now hung over the plain laced shirt he wore.

    The manor gates opened with a creak. A white haired butler shuffled out and bowed. "You must be Richter," the wrinkled man said, looking Azurus up and down as if to confirm his features. "I am Anaril, Lady Roxanne''s current butler. You''re here earlier than expected."

    Azurus nodded. ''Richter'' was the name he was given to use during his stay here. An outstanding young boy Sir Draumen had met in the capital city. He was to train as the estate''s new butler. Or at least that was the story that would be told if anyone bothered to ask.

    Azurus unpacked his belongings and handed Eleanoire''s reins to the butler. The horse snorted, whipping her head and snapping the reins out of Anaril''s loose grip. The eight year old mare was fiercely loyal. Azurus shook his head, whispering words of comfort into her ears before handing the reins over again. He grabbed his belongings and carried them inside while the horse was led away to be stabled.

    A middle aged woman with long dark hair awaited him. She wore a bright smile. In her arms was a child, her second son. Azurus gave a formal bow. "Lady Roxanne." Radis had said that she was in her late thirties. Azurus expected her to be more akin to Queen Dahlia. But the lady of House Draumen appeared much younger. She didn''t share any of the tired lines that the queen bore. Something to do with the stress of a queen''s position perhaps, he thought.

    "Mister Richter. It''s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Allow me to lead you to your room. You must be tired from your long journey!"

    "Oh not at all, my lady," Azurus answered cheerfully, following after her. He planned to play his part well. The part of an overeager boy who had the fortune of coming into the servitude of nobility. "I''d have loved to begin my work training this instant had evening not been so fast approaching."

    Roxanne paused, turning her head to the side. "You weren''t supposed to be here for another two cycles at least, Sir Aegis. Your task isn''t the kind that gets done with haste, but rather ruined with it. Do keep that in mind."

    "I-ah, yes," Azurus stammered, wondering if it was alright for her to be mentioning his official name aloud.

    "The only servants within this household are the butler you''ve already met and the maid you must have seen with Cadril. They are aware of your identity," she said, as if reading his mind. "The servants of this household have been here for decades and I trust them greatly. We understand the importance of your task and are willing to lay our lives down for her majesty, Queen Dahlia."

    "You''ve met her majesty?"

    "We''ve talked during a few gatherings I attended in my younger days. We exchange letters every once in a while. I wouldn''t exactly presume to take the position of an informer, but neither do I think she considers me a friend. I think I''m somewhere in between." Roxanne led him to the second floor of the manor. ¡°Well, I suppose I''m an informer now. I am to relay your reports to the Crown.¡±

    No luminite stones were embedded into the walls. Light instead came from the manor''s many six paned windows. Furnishing was void of color and made from faded or chipped wood. Sir Draumen wasn''t lying when he said his House was on the lower end of nobility, both in terms of rank and wealth.

    Roxanne glanced behind her as she climbed the final step of the staircase, rocking her babe back and forth. "I don''t know whether to consider your early arrival a fortune or a woe. Vicegerent Odain has been paying visits to many aristocrats residing in Heira. Something about preaching the faith to them all. I suspect there''s more to it than that. The Trillians possess a vast sum of wealth and I assume the nobility have an interest in it. Being near to the city, we haven''t escaped Odain''s gaze. He''s requested an audience with me. I figured it''d be best to comply for now, seeing as how we aren''t very wealthy so far as the higher class go. I haven''t received a response regarding a date. It may be soon, could also be a month from now. I assume it likely you will see the man yourself at some point in the city before he comes here for an evening."

    Azurus hadn''t given much thought to his mission on his way from the capital. Rather, his thoughts had been occupied with wondering just how long the mission would take. Just how long he would be away from¡­

    Better to be cautious than hasty. Vicegerent Odain. A man said to be the Lord Sun of the Thousand Sun City. A tyrant who''d burnt down an entire forest and killed all of its inhabitants. Azurus had two tasks. Uncover specific details about the Trillians'' planned conquest, and find out their ties to the First Chancellor, Adrian Rinz. He''d mingled in high society long enough as Emeria''s guard to know their mannerisms and what would be expected of him. "What of Heira''s governor?" he asked. "Have they any loyalty to the crown of which to leverage?"

    Roxanne snorted. "The governor? Heira, unfortunately, is House Galadin''s jurisdiction. High Lord Galadin cares not for competency when appointing someone, but rather how easy it would be to control them. Heira saw an increase in criminal activity since Governor Bernestur''s appointment. Criminals that all of a sudden went silent with the appearance of the Trillian Order, more or less instantly winning public favor. The whole Scorching thing reeks of schemes. Odain gets control of the criminals, keeping them satisfied with his wealth, and uses them to maintain order. The governor turns a blind eye to the strangeties of the Trillian Order''s actions because the city is well maintained and he''s probably getting something out of it for himself as well."

    Roxanne stopped before a door and opened it with her free hand. The child in her arms reached towards Azurus as he walked past them. His small arms poked through the knight''s belongings and found the hilt of his sword. "Mm. Quite eager to learn the sword it seems," Roxanne said. She hugged her child tight.

    "Just like his uncle," Azurus commented.

    "Hum. And how is my dear brother faring?"

    "Last I saw, Sir Draumen was and still is among the finest of her majesty''s Guard, and an exemplary knight. I learned much from him." Azurus set his belongings down on a bed. The room was much humbler than his quarters at the capital. Something more akin to what he expected of a middleclass inn, only much cleaner. It contained nothing more than a bed, a wardrobe and a single six panel window at the far end. Floorboards creaked under his weight. The manor must be quite old¡­

    He turned to find Roxanne still observing him from the doorway. He''d half expected her to have been gone already. "Er, is there something you''d like me to do, my lady?"

    She rolled her eyes. "Drop the formalities. They''re tiring. Besides, as Queen''s Guard, you actually outstrip me as nobility. And you''ve been granted the family name of ''Aegis''.

    "I''d like to know how you came to be the ideal candidate for this task, Azurus. I mean no offense of course. You just look like the storybook knight. Tall. Broad shoulders. Pale blue eyes. Strong jawline and shoulder length hair. The kind of man they preform plays about on the streets. The kind that makes women swoon."

    He blushed. The comments were entirely inappropriate. He opened his mouth to speak but Roxanne added more.

    "The kind that always ends up marrying a princess in the stories¡­"

    Azurus gasped. "Does all of Xenaria know about me and Emeria?"

    "Know¡­? Courtly rumors travel far. Well. They are just rumors though. And you''ve just confirmed them." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you''re the right fit for a covert mission?"

    He kept his eyes glued to the floor, face red with embarrassment.

    "I only jest, Sir Aegis. I don''t mean to dull your confidence. I only meant to lighten the mood. You seemed a little stiff when you arrived, is all. Hum. Maybe I pushed too heavy a conversation on to you. Feel free to join my husband and I for dinner. Or you can rest after your long journey. Let the maid know if you''d rather have something brought up to your room."

    Azurus nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Roxanne."

    "The pleasure is mine. Do not cloud your mind with needless thoughts of your task. Worry breeds anxiety. And from what I hear, this Vicegerent is a shrewd man. I''ll see you later, Sir Aegis," she nodded, leaving him alone, his door wide open.

    Azurus let out a sigh after closing his door. Worry breeds anxiety¡­ How could he not worry? All this time spent thinking of his return to the capital, and not once did he consider the fate of the nation quite well rested on his shoulders. And the lady Draumen oh so conveniently made me admit a rumor.

    Something about Roxanne inspired nostalgia and warmth. She carried herself with an odd sense of liberty but had wisdom unbefitting her appearance. Almost like Lady Sar''tara.

    Azurus organized his belongings and fell back on his bed, sinking a half inch into its plush surface. Queen''s Guard typically slept on harder beds than normal. Excessive luxury was a right they were not given.

    Azurus'' heart ached. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if he truly was fitted for this task. A few short cycles and he was already missing Emeria. A few long cycles, more like. He hadn''t the mind to rest. Instead, he locked his door and did the only thing that brought him peace. He brought out his longsword and practiced every drill and maneuver he''d been taught, keeping the weapon sheathed in fear of harming the already aged furniture. He practiced Emeria''s swordplay as well, or what he remembered of it. He imagined her graceful movements and beautiful smile as he mimicked her elusive footwork. His heart was pounding against his chest by the end and he had run out of breath.

    It has to be me, he thought. I was chosen, and thus I must obey. He''d come this far through effort alone, and he wasn''t going to stop. Not when lives depended on this task.

    The sun had already set and Azurus found himself sweating. He was in no condition to join his hosts at the dinner table and instead requested something simple be brought up. The maid came by not long after and brought him a fragrant bowl of stew consisting of cabbage and Brussels sprouts. His least preferred greens. Azurus stared at the vegetables. His free hand touched his side, remembering the feel Emeria''s punishing elbows. He shook his head, smiling, and regretfully brought a forkful of greens into his mouth. At the least there was a slice of raspberry pie to accompany.

    ***

    Azurus raised a brow when Redmond, Roxanne''s husband, let out a loud early morning yawn devoid of any manners. He had dark hair much like his wife, but he was also an inch shorter than Roxanne and a whole head shorter than the Azurus. He was rather plain of looks and had a cleanly shaven face. Not quite cleanly shaven. There wasn''t a trace of any beard at all. He almost seemed like a growing teen from Azurus'' point of view.

    "I don''t have much advice to give you myself," Redmond said before finishing the yawn, making his voice sound excessively deep. He mounted atop the saddle of a shabby pony with overgrown hair at the sides of its head. "We''ve been observing Odain from afar for some time. He''s good at hiding information. I imagine you were chosen because Queen Dahlia has found herself backed into a corner. Poor lass probably has little allies she can trust."

    Azurus stifled a snort. For Redmond, whose appearance was that of an adolescent, calling her majesty a child was amusing. "Yes. That, and she needed some way to separate me from the princess for the time being."

    "I''d say to simply act conspicuous and observe the Order from afar. Though, I don''t know how useful that would be," Redmond said, looking Azurus up and down. "You''re build makes you stand out far too much. If I had to make a suggestion, it''d be to find a way to immerse yourself into Trillia''s mercenary group and make your way up their ranks. Since you''re only a butler in training, I s''pose we can say that you''ve a fair bit of free time on your hand to aid the needy or some other hogwash."

    Redmond''s pony was smaller than Eleanoire. This further accentuated the height difference between Azurus and his host. He wondered if his build was really all that abnormal. Most of her majesty''s guard were of similar height and muscle. He hadn''t been around many other men that were significantly smaller than himself. "Join the Order''s mercenaries¡­" The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. To pledge himself to an entity other than the crown, even if only in name, was repulsive. Especially a treacherous entity.

    "I hear they''re looking to recruit just about anyone. Average city boys are lured by the promise of valor whereas common criminals eagerly join when coins and women are dangled in front of them. And then there''s the Healers. Needle in a haystack, those. The Order''s been gathering them too. They''ve only got about a dozen or so, since those born with the Gift are said to be one in a million or some such. Troubling nonetheless. Not even armies employ so many Healers."

    The Gift was a claimed blessing of Goddess Trillia. Roads were rife with rumors of the emerging faith. Among common conversational topics, recruitment of Healers was one Azurus had encountered a few times when speaking to travellers. An organization gathering men of fighting age as well as those born with the Gift of Healing did not bode well. On top of that, knowing a group of Healers to be concentrated in a single city was drawing the ill from all over, making preaching a simpler task. Except Healers can do little but Heal physical wounds.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "Am I to pretend I am a thug, or just a normal boy?" Azurus asked.

    "Neither. You don''t need two fake identities lad. You are Richter. The butler to be for Lady Roxanne Draumen. Anyone asks, tell them the truth. Oh, and you don''t have a curfew either of when we expect you back at the manor. Spend a couple drabs down at a tavern after sundown. See if you can loosen some lips. Can''t do it myself since no one wants to talk to someone my size."

    "I see. This conversation has been insightful. Thank you, Lord Redmond." Azurus felt more confident now. He had a decent sense for how to go about completing his mission.

    "I''m no lord. I''m from a moderate merchant family. Roxanne just happened to fall for me. I still don''t know why. The aristocrats thought it a joke and tried courting her even after our marriage, if only to get closer to Sir Draumen I would presume, and in turn, the crown as well. Roxanne still gets offers to this day. They all end up as fuel for a hearth. All she cares for these days is her two sons. Even makes me a bit jealous," the man laughed.

    "You ought to send them to Exaltyron. We''ll make fine Queen''s Guards out of them," Azurus said.

    "S''pose that will depend on whether they inherited my blood or the Draumen blood. You wouldn''t want someone my size protecting the Queen."

    "Size makes little difference in the way of skill. Her highness the princess, for example, is a better swordsman than most others I know."

    "And I suppose you would know of that first hand¡­?"

    "Yes. In fact¡ª" Azurus snapped his mouth shut, sensing an innuendo from Redmond''s remark. He turned his head away and felt the rising heat in his cheeks.

    Redmond laughed. "I don''t know lad," he said after a while, turning serious. "Maybe you weren''t the right choice for this task. Whorehouses, for one, are good places to gather information. Though from the letters Sir Draumen used to write about you, you don''t seem the kind of man to spend his time in one."

    Azurus stayed silent. He hadn''t considered the option. He was willing to lay his life for Emeria and her mother. But he wasn''t willing to break faith just to complete a mission. He would forever regret that decision. And¡­ and it goes against my code as a knight. Yes. If it''s against my code, then there is no use pondering on it.

    Azurus swallowed. A knight''s duty was to his nation, or so he''d told the queen. She''d asked if he was capable of killing in cold blood. Capable of acting dishonorably. And I said yes¡­ The first of all lessons a knight learns was that of loyalty. But how could he be loyal and disloyal at the same time?

    This is headache inducing. Once again I find that I''m questioning myself when I thought I''d steeled my resolve the night afore.

    He clutched tight Eleanoire''s reins, realizing a horrid truth. He''d readily said yes when asked if he could kill, but was now doubting himself when considering being unfaithful to his beloved. As if killing in cold blood wasn''t already a heinous deed. No. There may not even be a need to do either. Sir Aegis and her majesty entrusted me with this task. I must see it to the end while upholding my morals. I must lead by example.

    Sounds of horse drawn carts and people eventually surrounded Azurus as he and Redmond led their horses to the main road leading up to Heira. Gate guards paused to do a brief and lackluster inspection of every entering traveller, not bothering at all with exiting ones. They recognized Redmond and simply nodded in his direction, letting him and Azurus pass without question.

    Redmond went his own way as he had a shop to run, leaving Azurus alone in an unknown city. He stabled his horse at an inn close to the gates and went about exploring on foot. He threw his worn cloak over his shoulders and walked with a slight hunch. The average Heiran was at least a half head shorter than him. I''ve lived too long among soldiers and well fed nobles.

    Heira bore the title ''Jewel of Xenaria. Azurus expected more from a place holding that name, dated though it may be. The city was once a spring of wealth and knowledge. A symbol of the nation''s prosperity. The royal palace turned temple was said to have held a library open to the public. The palace itself was a symbol of the great Xenarian Empire that once was when Flame Bearers ruled the land. Its domed roofs and pointed arch doors and halls were more reminiscent of Southern Tarmian architecture than Xenarian, giving testament to the diversity of cultures that once existed.

    Centuries had withered since, and time had changed many things. Azurus thought Metsiphon and Exaltyron were far more impressive. In comparison, Heira''s streets were rather unkempt, many bearing drab or tired faces even though the morn had just arrived. Street structure was poor. Buildings and houses were constructed in too close a proximity to each other, birthing a web of narrow alleys. Telling old buildings apart from the new was as simple as telling land from sea. Whoever had authorized the construction of newer houses had poor knowledge of city management.

    Heira had many more Trillian mercenaries than Azurus originally accounted for. His eyes barely managed to glaze over a dozen people before spotting an armed man wearing a grey coat uniform with a bright yellow trillium flower at their hearts. Even their coat buttons were fashioned into the three petal flower. The vast majority of these mercenaries, while not as tall as Azurus, had stocky arms and rugged appearances. Some had scars on their faces and missing teeth.

    Memories of his time as an orphan in Exaltyron''s Impoverished District resurfaced. These were people with limited desires to better themselves and instead content with living a life of brawling, stealing, drinking and whoring. The Trillians were looking to pick up just about anyone. People that might normally slither in grimy alleys were instead walking fearlessly abreast regular citizens.

    Azurus observed the Heirans as he weaved through a crowded and noisy street. The cobblestones beneath his feet were cracked and needed tending to. The average person was doing their best to avoid Trillia''s arms.

    So that''s why this city feels¡­ suffocated. As if a disease were seeping through every crevice in every wall.

    People feared upsetting the wrong person. It would be well if these mercenaries had found morals upon joining a religious order, but if the capital''s Impoverished District was any indication, it was that those living beneath society''s crust would not so easily exchange their noxious liquor for holy water. Especially when Trillian acolytes were likely not enforcing whatever morals they preached.

    Following a moving crowd down the main street, Azurus found himself approaching the great temple at the city''s center. He near gaped upon seeing it up close. The white marbled structure dwarfed everything in its immediate vicinity. Domed white roofs sparkled like great iron shields beneath a naked sun. Temple gates were crafted out of thick iron into which images of the Goddess were carved. Beautiful flower bushes were arranged in an array before the temple with streaming fountains of mosaic interiors running alongside them. It was the only place where the mood didn''t seem grim.

    "First time?" a bright haired girl asked, arms crossed and wearing a condescending smile.

    Azurus looked down. The girl''s head barely reached over his waist. She wore an acolytes white and gold robes. He estimated her to be around eleven or twelve. "Yes," he admitted, realizing that he''d been staring at the temple for a while.

    "Easy to tell. My advice, don''t ogle like a goat. Oh, I''m Ophelia by the way. I''m a Healer," she proclaimed as she puffed out her chest. Azurus simply nodded. His lacking reaction made her frown. She clicked her tongue and turned away, striding up the white steps to the temple gates while humming. She seemed frail. Almost malnourished even. Her eyes were sunken, suggesting heavy fatigue, yet there were no dark spots beneath them to indicate a lack of sleep. Azurus had heard that Healers easily tired when using their Gift. His instinct told him that the girl was being abused. And his morals as a knight bade him to follow her.

    The temple interior had more to show than the exterior. Beyond the gates was a massive prayer hall. Two columns of pews were divided down the middle by a beautiful velvet carpet of royal blue. The pews were lined with luminite stones emanating white light ¡ªan egregious statement of wealth. Thick stone pillars were on either side of the hall and at the far end stood the most gorgeous statue Azurus had ever seen

    A detailed stone carving of the Goddess Trillia that seemed one step shy of coming to life. Atop her head was a crown of three pointed flowers and her hands were clasped at her chest. Wrists and neckline were laden with carvings of bracelets and a choker. The folds in her long dress had been chiseled with such precision. It nearly brought Azurus to tears. He could see why travellers were attracted to the faith. It was easy to fall in love with something so magnificent. The luminite benches only made the idol shine brighter.

    Azurus closed his eyes and let out an exhale. The imprinted image of Trillia was replaced by one of Emeria. A mere idol wasn''t enough to convert him. He already had someone he loved more than his own self. And he also had a strong sense of duty. In the end, everything before him could be reduced to a farce. A wordless persuasion meant to move weakened hearts seeking solace in something greater than themselves. A single second of pondering was enough to tell him that this was nothing more than wealth spent coaxing flimsy emotions. But the masses seldom think for themselves.

    Azurus didn''t immediately follow after Ophelia. He sat at the corner of one of the benches and clasped his hands like many others were doing, while observing where the girl was going. She eventually made it to the front of the hall and kneeled before the great idol in prayer, looking like a fledgling sprout existing next to an ages old tree. Azurus cocked his head to the side. He wondered if the distance to the Goddess was meant to effect the prayer. Or if Ophelia''s status as a Healer granted her the privilege of being closer to the idol. Either way, her actions didn''t make sense to him.

    It wasn''t long after that that an acolyte in similar white robes came to fetch her. She followed after him. Azurus tailed them, wondering if anyone would stop him from getting closer to the statue. No one else seemed to care. Most people were either too deep into their prayers or were praying with their eyes closed. No one observes. No one thinks. Azurus wondered if faith was a guiding tool for the Heirans, or just a leash that hidden masters were gently tugging, guiding them along a decided path.

    Azurus tailed the two down a few halls. They entered a dark room with stained glass windows. The place was lined with beds. An infirmary of sorts. Or sleeping quarters. There were a few rugged men in grey uniform sitting around. Some of them had bruises on their faces while others had small cuts here and there.

    "Took long enough! I could''a given a whole Flaming sermon by now!" one of them cried.

    Azurus observed from beyond the doorway, half standing within shadows. No one was paying him any mind. They were all crowding around the little girl, waiting for her to Heal them. Ophelia looked depressed rather than frightened. She was used to this. She put her hand on someone''s chest and closed her eyes in concentration.

    The loud mouthed man yanked her by the hair. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. "Are you blind or something, brat? Can''t you see the gash on my leg? I can hardly Flaming walk!" the man said as he took a limping step. Azurus noticed the half undone bandages around a thick thigh. Hardly anything to fret over. No bleeding ¡ªarteries were undamaged. A shallow flesh wound.

    "But¡ª" Ophelia began.

    "But nothing! Hurry up n''Heal me first!"

    "Why don''t you sit down you lout," another man said. He pushed the first man back onto his bed. Ophelia fell along with him as her hair was still being held. A small cry escaped her mouth this time. "I''ve been here since before the sun was up. I ain''t about to wait for her to Heal your butter knife scratch. What happens when she passes out? You want me to wait a whole day? Trillia''s skirt I will! Damned if I know why Odain, er, his holiness, Lord Odain, sent away every Healer save for this one.

    Azurus'' eyes narrowed. The other Healers had been sent away? An argument erupted within the room about who deserved Healing first. Ophelia was caught in between them while the priest that brought her simply stood aside with a careless expression as if he''d seen the same scene play out too many a time.

    Azurus waited for the hairless priest to do something. His lean figure showed beneath his white robes in parts that pressed against his skin. The man instead just shook his head and walked towards the door. Azurus had seen enough. He wasn''t going to glean any further information by just observing. He barged in, pushing the priest to the side.

    One by one, each mercenary felt the hammer of justice. Azurus dragged them by their collars and pummeled them before they could react. They were left with many more bruises and broken bones than they previously had. Two tried fighting back. Though he didn''t have his beloved sword, he didn''t feel threatened in the least. His adversaries were unarmed. To his trained eyes, their movements seemed pitifully slow. His faster reflexes allowed him to dodge their strikes. He swiftly struck both of them in the jaw, knocking them unconscious. Their unhindered fall to the stone floor did more damage to them than his fists.

    The last man standing was the one that had yanked Ophelia''s hair. Azurus threw him to the floor and stomped on his knee, and then ground his heel against the small scratch he''d been complaining about. The man let out a blood curdling scream.

    "That''s for hurting her," Azurus said. He then bent down and struck the man''s face with a fist, breaking his nose, his head bouncing against the floor. "And that''s for making me angry." Azurus knelt before Ophelia who had curled up near a bed and was clutching its frame as if it were the Goddess herself. "Are you alright?" She nodded in reply. "Can you Heal yourself?" Another nod. "Good. I''ll carry you to your home," he said as he picked her up.

    He turned around to find a lean bodied man in a snow colored coat with silver buttons and flower patterns standing in the doorway. The man had silver hair that was greased back and a crooked nose that''d broken few too many times and never properly Healed. He was nearly as tall as Azurus. Odain. Or at least he matched the description of Odain that Azurus had been given, though, much younger than what he''d assumed. Odain had a sword at his waist with a silver pommel and black handle. At the hilt''s end was a gold disc with sharp points coming out of it.

    The first priest was down on both of his knees, as if worshipping this newcomer. "Your Brilliance. What brings you to the infirmary?"

    Azurus'' glared openly now, as Odain was blocking the doorway. The Lord Sun¡­ He who burned Lady Sar''tara''s home and now threatens my own.

    "You-your Holiness," Ophelia stammered.

    Odain held up a hand to silence her, his palms showing calluses at each finger''s base. He rested his left hand on the hilt of the sword and stepped forward.

    Azurus took a half step back, steadying his center of gravity to a comfortable position. He mentally prepared himself to toss Ophelia to a bed and snap Odain''s neck if necessary. It would be so simple if I could just kill him right now¡­ But of course he couldn¡¯t. The nation would be thrown into chaos if a religious figurehead revered by a vast sum of Xenarians was assassinated.

    "I was under the impression that you hated conflict above all things, Your Brilliance." Azurus accused, glancing at Odain''s sword and gesturing with a tilted head towards the fallen mercenaries.

    "I do," Odain answered, his voice deep and smooth like wine aged for centuries. He placed his right hand on Ophelia''s forehead. The girl gasped as the fatigue in her eyes disappeared. Odain removed his hand from her head at the same time he removed his left hand from the hilt of his weapon. "Some, it would seem, are slow in learning our teachings. Others readily seek conflict. For that is what you were doing just now, weren''t you, young man? Antagonizing me because those beneath me acted without thought?" he finished, folding his hands behind his back.

    Azurus froze, searching for an answer now that the argument had been flipped against him. Ophelia jumped out of his arms and knelt before Odain, elbowing Azurus in the shin. I will not kneel before anyone but her majesty! "The city is rife with men like them wearing Trillian livery. You cannot tell me that absorbing these people into your order avoids conflict. It rather gives them the authority to oppress like they did to Ophelia. And¡­ what need is there in a faith preaching peace for having such a high number of armed men beneath them?" Azurus asked.

    Go on. Wiggle your way out of this one. It was a blunt question very related to his mission. But it was also the perfect chance to ask such a question. He hoped for a hint, or perhaps something more. Anything that would give him the necessary information to relay to Queen Dahlia.

    "Ah, you must be new to the city then," Odain began. "Not everything need be as complex as it would seem. A moment''s worth of critical thought and you find many answers standing before you. Some of which you seem to have avoided and others that you favored, because it fits the narrative you''ve crafted for yourself. Or is it that you held a bias against the Goddess Trillia all along?" Odain waved his hand. "Whatever the reason, it matters little now. For explaining the truth to a young one like you is the reason for my existence. I''m very much aware that past criminals make up a vast sum of my¡­ militia let''s just call them. But what do you suppose would happen if they''d never met religion? They''d remain criminals all their lives. I give them an opportunity to come out of that life. To better themselves. As you can see, it takes time for some. As for why I need a militia¡­ Well, I don''t. But labelling them as such, catering to their ingrained violent personas, makes converting them easier."

    "You cannot ask an illiterate man who''s only known thievery and street brawls to just sit down and become a priest one day now can you?" Odain then questioned. "I grant them a way out. Be a fighter for a just cause. Don''t seek to start a conflict, but rather end one that you see. And earn an honest wage whilst doing it." Odain knelt before Ophelia. "Are you alright dear child?"

    She nodded vigorously. "Yes, Your Holiness."

    "That''s good to hear," he said with a smile. "I''m sorry for what you often have to put up with. I''m sorry for not being here often enough to aid you with handling these poor misguided humans. Go on. Go home and rest. I will call upon you again when you''re needed."

    Ophelia nodded again and scurried off.

    Odain stood and turned to face the still kneeling priest. "You. Place these men on the beds and have a regular physic tend to them." He turned back to Azurus. "I''m happy to answer any further questions. Feel free to follow me and I will show you what the Trillian faith is truly about. Or, if you have something else to attend to, you are welcome here at any time for further guidance."

    Azurus clenched his fists as Odain walked towards the doorway. He was smooth with his words. And his mannerisms showed experience and charisma. Gleaning any information from him was going to be a difficult task. But a chance to talk with the man himself alone was enough to motivate Azurus. He''d thought meeting with the Vicegerent would have been harder.

    Be a fighter for a just cause and earn a wage while doing it. Could criminals really be turned so easily? If so, then Exaltyron''s Impoverished District¡­ Morally, that solution was near perfect. It helped avoid needless conflict. Which is what these Trillians advocate.

    Azurus followed after Odain. Followed after the back of a tyrant. But for what reason was such a man a tyrant?

 Chapter 56: Ordain (Book 2, Chapter 19)

    <u>Chapter 19 - Ordain</u>

    "Richter," Azurus answered when asked for his name.

    "Just Richter?" Odain questioned.

    "I''m an orphan. I was born in Exaltryon and have no parents so far as I can remember. I did as I had to for food and shelter, running errands for mere copper bits. Fate showed me favor when Sir Radis Draumen, a member of her majesty''s guard, found me and decided to raise me. And so I find myself here now, as a butler in training for Sir Draumen''s sister."

    "Hmm," Odain mused, walking with his hands still clasped behind his back. The dust like silver of his hair shown well under orange luminite embedded in walls of arched passages. The floor itself was of a smooth white marble. Vague reflections could be made out on its surface. "That''s quite a fascinating tale. I do wonder¡­" Odain drifted off. He paused before a gold framed painting. A marvelous piece of work depicting Trillia floating amongst clouds, her bright hair radiant like a noonday sun, hands cupped and held down before her, raining down petals of trillium flowers upon mankind below as if she were showering her blessings. A white luminite stone was pressed into the frame to highlight the artwork. "I do wonder if it really was good fortune, or the innate virtue in your heart that led you to stand before me here today."

    Azurus frowned. "By which you mean¡­?"

    Odain cast a sidelong glance, eye twitching. Was that annoyance? Or intrigue? They''d passed several clergymen, all of whom greeted Odain with either a ''Your Holiness'', or a ''Your Brilliance''. Azurus suspected the Vicegerent to desire a more respectful address than ''you''.

    "Orphans have little guidance, young Richter. The vast majority end up in street guilds with low life expectancy. You, as an orphan, turned to working rather than thievery to survive. Working as in helping others. You have virtue in your heart. That distinguished you from all the rest. Perhaps also why Sir Draumen took you in, wouldn''t you say?"

    "I guess so?" Azurus recalled living in a rundown orphanage early in his life. At around six or seven years old, the aged owner had passed and he had turned to thievery. Only, he''d one day tried robbing Sir Aegis, who just happened to be walking by. That incident had somehow led to his beginning as a knight in training.

    "It seems you''re modest as well. You showed virtue also when defending Ophelia."

    "Plausible. But anyone would rush to aid a child being treated as such. Is a virtuous act the same as a normal one?"

    "Anyone," Odain echoed. "I think a normal act can be defined as a virtuous act, yes."

    "Then why label it virtuous at all? Why not just call it an ''act'', considering it''s normal?"

    Odain laughed softly. "Perhaps you are right. I am of the belief that everyone harbors kindness inside. Some just find difficulty expressing it due to their circumstances. Though, even if anyone would want to rush to a child''s aid, not everyone would have the courage to do so. Not when doing so meant facing multiple foes who seem adept at brawls. Courage was your virtue there."

    Azurus crossed his arms. "I disagree. I acted ''normally''. And the driving factor was confidence. I was trained by Sir Aeg, I mean Sir Draumen. I had confidence enough to win. I could argue that courage was not a variable at all."

    Odain raised an eyebrow. "Trained?"

    "Well, when I wasn''t doing his errands, he taught me some things," Azurus quickly said. Contrary to gleaning any information, he''d almost let slip too much. "And I may have swung around a wooden sword I found in his quarters once or twice¡­"

    "I see. I imagine competent butlers have some martial skill. Well, do you truly believe that your actions had nothing to do with virtue, or are you merely doing this to spite me, young Richter?"

    Azurus didn''t respond. Odain smiled. Despite his young face, it seemed so aged an expression. His deep voice and mannerisms did not match his appearance at all. And the way he said ''young Richter'' while barely seeming about ten years older than Azurus was too off putting.

    "I know you may have gotten a terrible first impression of the faith, but bad apples can exist anywhere. It is hard to teach someone when they do not want to be taught. Come along, I''ve more I''d like to show you and talk about. I hope you''ll be a bit more open minded now," Odain said, continuing down the hall.

    If the Vicegerent really was the Lord Sun, his authority was no less than a king''s. Deep calluses marred his palms. He''d either trained extensively, or had lengthy combat experience himself. A man with his reputation would never do the latter. Would never risk his life alongside his subjects. Azurus folded his arms but followed still. Odain had to slip up. He would give a hint to his true colors soon enough. Or perhaps not. I need to be patient. Maybe he''ll reveal more if I pretend to agree with him and he begins trusting me.

    Taking it slow would be smarter. Azurus had already showed distaste for the Trillians. It was genuine distaste. But this could work in his favor. Odain had no reason to suspect anything. He might even be used to such behaviour. He was the leader of a faith trying to gain a new convert. Take it slow, Azurus. Be cautious and watch him carefully.

    "I have to say, Sir Draumen, was it? He really taught you well," the Vicegerent said. "You''re strong as well as have good mannerisms and speech. Asinine though it may have been, you''re debate skills weren''t novice levels either. I''m sure you''ll do well as a butler."

    "Thank you," Azurus replied.

    "I do wonder if your talents would be wasted on such a minor House though."

    "Minor in wealth perhaps, though most certainly not in name. I mean to be an example of the reputation they hold."

    "Mm, yes," Odain said. "I meant no disrespect. I just thought that perhaps there may not be much for you to do at the Draumen manor." He waved his hand as he turned a corner. "Ah forget it." Odain went through a door and entered a circular room. A beautiful tapestry covered the length of the surrounding wall. The floor tiles here were checkered marble. At the center was a life sized statue of the Goddess made from a pristine white stone, her arms and chest adorned with jewellery and a crown of sparkling gemstone flowers atop her head. From the ceiling hung a chandelier, bathing the statue in light.

    "I wonder how many mouths that could feed," Azurus mused, fully expecting a logical rebuke.

    "Pardon?" Odain apparently had been more focused on the tapestry than the idol.

    "The jewellery I mean. I said I wonder how many mouths that could feed."

    "Ah, being the ever well-mannered critic again. Truthfully, I haven''t been to this room in a while. This one is reserved for a more private worship. Some people prefer to pray in silence."

    "You mean people who pay. I imagine nobility or wealthy are the only ones with access to this room?"

    "Disappointed, young Richter?"

    "Not exactly. It''s in their right to choose how they spend their wealth, asinine though it may be. I don''t see how it makes a difference which idol of the same deity one prays to."

    "My thoughts exactly!" Odain exclaimed, smiling wide.

    Azurus was taken aback. He''s agreeing with me?

    "This is where useful lies come in," Odain explained. "Or, virtuous lies, if you will. But how can a lie be virtuous, your expression says. Well, you see the poor more readily part with their money, believing their donations will be repaid twice or even thrice fold by the Goddess. Which it will, of course. They part with their wealth because they are more troubled due to issues of wealth. The wealthy, on the other hand, typically have a hoarding nature. Many show the common traits of a miser. Now, in order to get them to donate, we give them exclusivity. Something the poor can''t have but they can."

    "Private worship?"

    "Yes. It seems a con, but in the end, if they donate, it only benefits their soul. And as well as the poor. You see, now we return to your original point on feeding mouths. With the donations received from the wealthy, we can aid others. If they wish to spend extra to adorn their idol of which they get exclusive access to, why should I stop them?"

    Azurus thought for a moment. It was rather clever. Odain also had a good understanding of human nature. Nothing he did or said indicated mal intent. This man was the supposed tyrant? Perhaps he wasn''t the Lord Sun. Perhaps the information had been wrong.

    Odain turned back to the tapestry. It depicted a battle between mankind and strange horned creatures of varying skin colors with holes in their chests. Trillia was there also, a radiant figure amongst the common soldiers, mosaic wings at her back and silver hair. A very different depiction of Trillia than the idols.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    "Tell me, Richter, how much do you know about Illusterra''s history?"

    Azurus examined the tapestry. "Not much," he admitted. "Just that this seems to be a depiction of the War of Ashes." He''d heard of the war before. Everyone had. A great battle between mankind and the Tortured King''s hordes.

    "You would be correct," Odain said. He continued down another corridor, eventually turning to a spiralling staircase leading higher up. "The monsters you saw in the tapestry. What if I told you they were people once?"

    Azurus narrowed his eyes, though his host couldn''t see. He wondered what Odain was trying to say. "I would ask for evidence, assuming I cared. And I''d only care if you proved to me that such monsters still exist and are a threat to those close to me."

    Odain chuckled. "A sharp answer. If you must know, those monsters are called Heartless. History books state that they were people once. The Tortured King exploited their negative emotions and burnt their hearts away, turning them into mindless beasts that desired naught but destruction. It is what I¡­ well, what many philosophers explained as the concept of Free Slaves. And I happen to agree. The monsters in theory are free to do as they please. But they are slaves to their desires for destruction. And slaves to the will of their creator, the Tortured King. He doesn''t control them. Not directly. He simply gives them a direction in which to go, and they wreak havoc, unknowingly doing his bidding."

    Odain sighed like an exhausted elder after having conquered a set of stairs. He went down a narrow passage and stopped before an open doorway leading to what seemed an office room with a shelf of books and a desk by a circular window. A little idol of Trillia sat at the desk''s corner alongside a flowerpot with a white flower that had closed petals.

    "Are you going to elaborate on this concept of Free Slaves?" Azurus asked, not sure where the conversation was supposed to go.

    "Ah, yes. I was wondering if you were paying attention. Free Slaves, you see, isn''t all bad as in the example I gave. Men of faith can also be considered a Free Slave. Myself included. We bow our heads to a deity we¡¯ve never seen, obeying laws passed down from many generations prior. Yet we do it of our free will. And, seeing as how faith is oft equated with good morals and virtue, being a Free Slave in this case is the highest point man can achieve. Or so I''d believe."

    "Mhm," Azurus said thoughtfully. Free Slave. By that logic, he was a slave to the queen. To Emeria as well. Anyone in love, then, is also a slave. But then what was the distinction between loyalty and slavery? Was loyalty just a bind and not an embodiment of freedom? That would make it a form of slavery. But not Free Slavery. It was headache inducing. But somehow also made sense in a bizarre way. Philosophers were strange people.

    Odain sat down and fished out a smooth rock from within the drawers of his mahogany desk. There was a strange glyph marked down on it. "Have you heard of the term Chronary, young Richter?"

    Azurus scratched his head. He then shook it. "Sounds like something numerical. I''ve never had much of a taste for mathematics."

    "Ha ha, well, I suppose there is some numerical attachments to the term. Chronary is magic." Odain paused, glancing up as if expecting a reaction.

    Azurus crossed his arms. "And you have proof of this?"

    The Vicegerent smiled. "I figured you would ask that. Step back a little," he said, motioning with his hands. He snapped in half the stone in his hand and threw it to the floor. A second later, a pale blue circle of light appeared, growing in size until it was larger than the doorway. Azurus gasped. Odain motioned with his hand again, telling Azurus to follow. The Vicegerent entered into the circle and disappeared.

    Azurus blinked, shocked. Curious also, he decided to walk through the circle of light. He came out the other side in the same circular room with the Trillian statue and tapestry walls. "How¡­?"

    "How indeed," Odain responded. He disappeared back inside the circle.

    Azurus followed after and once again found himself inside the office room. "I''ve never heard of anything like this in my life. Is it the power of an Artifact?" He swallowed, realizing that he was acting like a child. At least his question was legitimate. If Odain had an Artifact, Queen Dahlia needed to know.

    "Not quite. Chronary is more primitive. Something from way far back in history. Little remains of its record. How it works is simple. Chronary is a language. You write a sentence or word, whatever it is that you need. The phrasing has to be extremely specific to avoid contradictions or double meanings that might cause malfunctions. And then you breathe your life into your words, bringing to life what you phrased. What you just saw was a Gatestone. It opens a gate to some place in your memory, tearing apart the very existence of space itself to connect two locations. Where you create a gate is important, because creating one on top of a person may wound or even kill them. Aside from that, quite useful, see? Interested in learning?"

    Azurus stared with mouth agape. He was at a loss for words. Something so¡­ convenient and amazing existed? A Gatestone. If he had those, then he could see Emeria whenever he wanted. But the mission. What was Odain''s game here? Was he teaching others to use this? If this magic could be used to transport armies to a city''s gates¡­ "For what reason would you teach me this?"

    Odain shrugged. "Call it intuition. I think I''m a good judge of character. I believe you wouldn''t abuse this power. I have much learning to do myself. I''ve only recently discovered a text on the subject. I''ve tried other things. Such as transferring the life force of a weakening plant to a Healthier one. Hasn''t¡­ quite worked how I planned," Odain said, glancing at the flowerpot on his desk. "But imagine the advancements in agriculture if something like this could truly work!"

    Advancements in agriculture and food production. The elimination of famine. That would benefit the realm greatly. And, if Azurus was to research with Odain, he would have a convenient excuse to stay close to the man. He could be a curious student and have opportunities to ask all manner of questions. It would make his mission that much simpler. Though, he was starting to doubt the Vicegerent had ill intent to begin with.

    "This assuming your duties as a butler in training do not take up a lot of your time," Odain said. "I hope it won''t. House Draumen is rather minor after all. I told you, I never meant it as an insult. Just gauging a prospective student''s conditions."

    "I-Yes. I think I would like to learn this," Azurus said, still feigning shock and excitement at the same time. Well, he was excited. This wasn''t an Artifact, and thus not quite worthy of being reported. Odain himself claimed ineptitude in his understanding of Chronary. If Azurus could study this together with the man, he''d be learning just as much as Odain, and would know if something dangerous worth reporting was discovered.

    But how would he keep this from Lady Draumen? If this magic was as wondrous as Odain claimed, then Azurus couldn''t trust sharing its secrets with anyone other than himself. Should I just tell her that Odain''s taken a liking to me and had offered to teach me about the religion?

    Religion. That had to be Odain''s goal in the matter. There was no way he''d teach Azurus for free. He was still trying to attain a new convert.

    "Wonderful! Should we work out a schedule then?" the Vicegerent asked with a smile.

    ***

    Odain slumped back in a chair and sighed. He rubbed his temples, a subtle smirk on his lips. He looked out the window of his room and watched Richter walk down the front steps of the great temple as fires of an evening sun touched his dark brown hair. Another thread to be weaved into the forming tapestry.

    Of course, I did err slightly in its creation. A minor error by the name Sar''tara, one of Ny''Danis'' daughters. She''d somehow slipped past his gaze during the burning of the Papillion Forest. One stray would have never mattered in the grand scheme of things, but how fortunate that she''d been placed under the Decade''s Curse and put out of commission for good, further weakening another pillar of Xenaria that was Kalin Serene at the same time. And her own progeny was nothing in comparison. The chances of Princess Elizia ever coming to realize the full potential of her blood were slim to none without proper guidance or instigation. And even if she did, she was just another stray.

    Odain let out a sigh. He pulled open his drawers and opened a folded letter he''d already read. A letter written by an aide of the First Chancellor of Xenaria.

    Your Brilliance,

    Progress has been made faster than I intended. I have agreed to the queen''s requests to support a war with the Empire. She in turn has agreed to announce our engagement. I will provide further updates soon.

    Elsewise, the crown princess is in Duke Serene''s garrison again. Sharp, that one. Much sharper than her mother. She doesn''t like me very much, and I get the feeling this has nothing to do with my relationship with the queen. Ah, and her appointed knight has been stripped of that position after rumors surrounding an illicit relation with the princess. Strange though. He''s disappeared entirely. I''ve found no information regarding where he''s gone. I suspect Dahlia may have had the boy killed. Though, he was rumored to have been extremely talented at the blade. I don''t know if the captain of the guard would have sanctioned that decision. That is all I have for now.

    Regards,

    Adrian Rinz, Loyal Servant of the everlasting and merciful Trillia.

    "Hmm." Perhaps things were going too fast. Or perhaps not. A talented young knight who just up and disappeared. Azurus was his name, Odain recalled. Tall with fair skin, pale blue eyes, and wavy dark brown hair. Odain''s brows shot up. He looked out the window again and his smirk grew wider. "Dahlia, Dahlia, Dahlia, you''re making this too easy."

    Well, he could hardly blame her. Compared to Flame Bearers, who were said to possess memories of their ancestors, Dahlia was just an average human. She was less than a child compared to him. He still would investigate Richter. No harm in being sure. But the boy''s mannerisms had been a bit too formal to not be suspicious. And his slips of the tongue were there also. He half suspected a spy. But if it was truly the princess''s former knight, then¡­

    The smirk turned into a wicked grin. Another Heartless candidate. Or maybe there could be a different use for him? Ny''Danis'' other daughter who was still held in the dungeons of the Thousand Sun City was primed for a Chronary experiment. She was an adult now and had her mind completely broken. Unfortunately, Odain had yet to figure out the proper Chronary phrase to create a powerful Heartless. Still though, the woman was a powerful asset without being turned into a mindless machine of ruination.

    Everything was falling into place smoothly. People were so easy to manipulate. He could hardly blame them. No one was as experienced as him. No one was as knowledgeable. As wise.

    Odain hated his past. Hated being constantly hunted. But he had a certain longing for those times. At least back then, there were people capable of matching his wit. But in the end, he had emerged victorious. And now, there was no one left to play with.

    He looked into an ornate mirror sitting on an empty spot between the tomes on his bookshelf. He examined every feature of his face. Nothing had changed. It had been so long and he still looked the same as he did during his adolescence. "I''ve waited so long for this. No. We''ve waited so long for this. So many years have gone by. I hope you''ll forgive me for taking this long. A few more years. I''ll come wake you in a few more years. What''s a few compared to many lifetimes? I just need to be patient. I just need to play this game a little longer. This time, we will win. Completely. I''ve made sure of it."

    He squinted against the fiery light of a setting sun, staring at the shrinking back of Richter as he continued down the street and at last turned a corner, disappearing from sight. If he was truly Azurus, then he would be around nineteen. Still a child. A child enamored by simple magic. Drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

    And eventually, twisted and corrupted by its promise of power.

    It could be a problem if he reported Chronary to Dahlia and the term was investigated. But Odain was confident that the boy would do no such thing. Such was the nature of power. People wanted to gather it and keep it to themselves as misers hoard wealth. Richter. Or more likely, Azurus. I think I''ve thought of the perfect use for you.

    The Sun looked down at his palms. He curled them to form fists. Odain. How long had it been since he''d last used his current name? He was certain that no record of it remained. The name granted to him by his most beloved friend and teacher. "Xenaria will fall, for I have ordained it as such."

 Chapter 57: Rulers Burden (Book 2, Chapter 20)

    <u>Chapter 20 - Ruler''s Burden</u>

    Theo''s hard heeled boots clacked on the stone passage of Dahlia''s royal gardens. He walked with his hands behind his back, sleek grey coat buttoned all the way up to his neck. The silver vine patterns on his cuffs and collar matched well with the vibrancy of the growing plants around him. One side of his coat bulged, a bottle of date wine tucked away inside.

    The gardens held a contrasting serenity to that of open waters. It was different, softer, less adventurous and more embracing in a way. Songs of small and colorful birds replaced the cries of gulls and pelicans. The sweet scent of flowers were the complete opposite of a salty sea breeze. Leaves brushing against themselves were gentler than waves crashing against the hulls of docked ships. It induced a melodious nostalgia. It had been a long time since he''d stepped foot in these gardens.

    He wished he could have enjoyed it a little more. But the extending shadows of two from the Royal Guard tailing him ¡ªhands resting on the pommels of their blades¡ª from a dozen paces back told Theo that he wasn''t particularly welcome. He never really had been. Not since the night of Queen Dahlia''s wedding. And he hadn''t been particularly respectful in his responses to her requests over the years.

    Theo turned a corner, fingers brushing against the soft petals of a white flower growing in a hedge a little taller than himself. The queen was seated in a small stone gazebo with a domed roof supported by old grey pillars wrapped in ivy. Theo expected a more refined and aged look. She didn''t look very different from what he remembered of some near eighteen years past. Her gold locks flowed freely as he knew she preferred. She wore a lovely frilled white dress cut just beneath the shoulders. She was sitting up straight with clasped hands in her lap, looking every bit the regal woman that she was. The only difference were the slight lines of age above the brows and at the corners of her eyes like white markings on a blank canvas ¡ªbarely noticeable.

    Behind her stood the ever so refined and infallible tower, Eildred Aegis, in his violet uniform with a white lotus upon the back, left hand resting on his sword pommel.

    Theo undid the top two buttons of his coat as he approached. He reached inside and pulled out the finest bottle he''d brought back from Eurale. "Your Majesty," he said with a deep bow before taking his seat at the table and placing the bottle down. Dahlia hardly spared it a glance. She snapped her fingers and a maid arrived shortly after with a tea set. Theo''s mouth thinned. He didn''t like tea of any kind. There was no reason to drink tea so long as wine was available. "Cinnamon," he noted, taking in the scent as the maid filled two cups.

    "Yes," Dahlia said, blowing softly into her steaming cup. "It just might stop me from getting too irate."

    Theo shifted in his seat. Dahlia still hated him. Well, he hadn''t exactly given her reason not to. He glanced towards Eildred for some sort of support. The man remained as stoic as ever. "You look especially radiant today, Your Majesty," Theo tried. Perhaps flattery might lighten the mood.

    "Are you implying that I''m not radiant on other days, Lord Coraine?"

    "Ah, no, not at all. I''m not exactly here to see your radiance every day. So I felt making mention of it now would be¡­"

    "Would be?" Dahlia questioned, an amused smile touching her lips. Though, her eyes were narrowed.

    "Can we not act as if we''re strangers, Dahlia?"

    "We aren''t exactly friends," she snapped. She took another look at the bottle of wine. "Is that supposed to be a bribe, Theodore?"

    "I wouldn''t dare. It''s a gift. Nothing more."

    She nodded. "You have quite a lot to answer for. Your gift won''t spare you from my questions."

    He looked away, tapping a foot beneath the table. He was hoping she wouldn''t bring up his borderline disobedience to the crown. "I was under the impression that I would be taking part in some sort of a war council regarding the Empire. Or at least discussing my role in the future."

    "You''ve ignored my call to summons many a time. Your one word responses to my letters are more than enraging ¡ªdoes Tilda even know about those? Also, I''m concerned regarding the amount of taxes coming from your territories not being in line with your supposed wealth." She took a sip of her tea. "And you called me fat on my wedding night near two decades past," she mumbled.

    Theo coughed. She really was still upset about that. He''d called her ''round for his tastes'' that night. It was later revealed that she''d been over a month pregnant. "I''ve ignored summons when they pertained to participating in courtly meetings. I''m not fond of those. They''re¡­ suffocating. In defense of my simple replies, they get the job done without wasting both parties'' time. And I did apologize for that night¡­" He looked her in the eye, swallowing. It really had been in poor taste and he still felt guilty about it. He was the idiot who''d made a bride cry during her wedding. And it was the queen no less.

    "And what about your wealth. I''ve heard that you have enough coin to buy all of Exaltyron. That High House Coraine has tripled their wealth since your father, Alvatore''s time."

    "Tripled would be an understatement, Your Majesty," Eildred interjected.

    Dahlia waved her hand. "I''m sure you understand why a vassal of the crown amassing such resources could be troubling, yes?"

    Theo stared at her for a while, frowning. He took in a deep breath. "Dahlia, are you questioning my loyalty?" he asked, his voice as harsh as he meant for it to be. She blinked, taken aback. "My wealth comes from personal business dealings," he continued. "No more and no less. Any taxes paid are in accord with what was agreed upon centuries ago. A portion of what is earned off the land is sent to the royal treasury."

    Dahlia set her teacup down and rested her elbows on the table. "And what if the crown feels a need to be a part of your business dealings?"

    Theo felt insulted. This wasn''t about money. She was doubting him. He hadn''t exactly been very forthcoming, but it was upsetting nonetheless. He had no interest in the crown. No interest in being bound by political chains. "Your implications are insulting, Your Majesty. House Coraine is a bastion of Xenaria. So it has been since Flames knows how long, and so it shall remain so long as I draw breath, and hopefully beyond. You''ll have full access to my treasury as long as we''ve drafted a proper plan on how this war is to go and where the funds are to be spent. Ask it of me, and I''ll deliver the city of Ostirin to you before the year''s end."

    The city of Ostirin was a valuable trade partner, delivering Tarmian goods that didn''t always come through the eastern borders. Its harbors were large and the city itself packed with smugglers and mercenaries for hire. Rats infested the streets along with stray dogs and kittens. It would be an easy, if ill gained conquest. A useless port to Xenaria, but a mighty blow to wealthy merchant families of Tarmia that ran the place from behind the curtains.

    Though, Ostirin would bring us a foot closer to the Thousand Sun City. Kalin''s certainly eyed the place for a while, I''m sure.

    Dahlia stayed silent for a while, sipping away at her tea. "It is hard to confirm loyalty when the lord in question is continually disobedient," she said after a while. She reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine by its neck. She pulled on the cork, clearly pleased that it''d already been loosened before pouring some into her half empty teacup. "Sweet," she said after a sip, smiling. "And strong. A fine gift."

    Theo blinked. Tea with wine? Now there''s an interesting business idea¡­ "Is it wise to be drinking from a gift of the man whose loyalty you were doubting just now?"

    Dahlia snorted. "What, you''d kill me in broad daylight before my guards? Don''t flatter yourself, Theodore."

    That, for some reason, stung Theo''s pride more than her previous insults.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Eildred tells me you''re a good man, and I believe him," Dahlia continued. "But I still needed to confirm your determination, Lord Coraine." She closed her fists. "Would that everyone were allowed to live alongside one another in harmony. But Sar''tara''s current state demands a scathing answer. I will have war," she seethed. She began tapping her finger against the table. "Eildred, can you see if High Lord Caranel has arrived yet?" she asked without turning around.

    The tall knight gave a slight bow which the queen could not see before stepping out of from the garden house''s shade.

    Theo twisted his mouth. "Am I dismissed, Your Majesty," Theo asked.

    She frowned. "Dismissed? I''d like to work out logistics right now if possible. High House Caranel is responsible for more than half of Xenaria''s grain. I believe Lord Galadin was expected to arrive at some point today as well. We''ll need to work out iron supplies and costs too."

    Theo clicked his tongue.

    "Pardon?"

    "I have my own iron supplies," Theo said. "And well, Jasim Galadin is, hmm, how do I put this¡­?"

    "Uncouth?" Dahlia tried. "Greedy? Rude? Condescending?"

    "You aren''t describing me are you, Dahlia?"

    She laughed with her lips closed, her hand pressed against them. The gesture made her seem much younger, like an approaching dawn rather than the afternoon sun that she was. Theo had no romantic interest in Dahlia, but her beauty was to be admired. A priceless treasure. After all, one could never attach monetary value to the sun.

    "You''re not quite condescending though?" Dahlia said, still smiling. "At least you recognize you have all of the other characteristics."

    Theo shook his head. "And the current High Lord of House Caranel¡­ That''s ¡ªah Scorched earth," he suddenly cursed.

    ***

    Dahlia turned her head at Theodore''s words. Walking behind Eildred was Agrienne Caranel, two of her guards close at his heel. Agrienne wore an easy going smile on that sharp, angular face. His back was straight and his strides long. His evenly split shoulder length dark hair waved majestically with every step. He wore a mahogany coat of silk with gold trimmings on the cuffs. An outsider would think him a king if they didn''t know any better. He was unfathomably beautiful.

    Rumors spoke of him spending far too many resources in search of a past lover. He had also banned the use of any weapons by the average person in his territory. A decision that seemed more in line with despotic rule. Strange as well considering Northern Xenaria was teeming with wild elk and Silver Tail wolves. Its largest exports following grains and wines was that of luxury meats and fur, given hunts were balanced between both predator and prey. Agrienne was losing out on a lot by cutting off merchants dealing in those goods.

    Dahlia felt her forehead crease with every step Agrienne took. She pulled her eyes away from that intoxicating smile of his. He paused before the steps of the gazebo and gave a deep bow. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice carrying the allure of a viscous honey.

    She waved her hand, turning away from him as Eildred took his position behind her again. "Where are my Collectors, Lord Caranel," Dahlia demanded before Agrienne had even pulled out his chair.

    "Collectors?"

    She inhaled deeply. "Five different tax collectors have been sent to the Caranel territory over the past two years. None returned. Care to explain why?"

    "They ran away?" Agrienne tried.

    Dahlia slammed her palm against the table. Teacups rattled and the bottle of wine tipped over. Theodore caught it before it fell. "Do NOT try my patience!" Dahlia glared.

    "I honestly don''t know," Agrienne shrugged, maintaining his curled lips.

    Dahlia breathed through her teeth. There was little she could do without proof. And she didn''t have the time to send an investigation party up north. Not when she needed cooperation from House Caranel for the war effort. I should have had him killed long ago. Flames! Why is he so pleasing to look at? She couldn''t just have him assassinated and appoint a new lord in Northern Xenaria. Not this late in the game. A new lord would take time getting accustomed to their duties and it would only delay everything she was trying to put into motion. She couldn''t keep Kalin waiting any longer. It was wrong enough being indecisive for over two years.

    "I was under the impression that I''d been called for something else entirely. Something regarding my commitment to a war with the Empire," Agrienne said.

    "Are you committed?" Theo asked, pouring wine into his own teacup.

    "Depends."

    "Depends on what?" Dahlia asked, eyes narrowing, trying not to meet Agrienne''s hypnotizing hazel pair. "On whether or not I sign a royal decree and humiliate the name of Caranel as the only House that needed a decree because they didn''t obediently follow suit with the rest of the nation?"

    "It depends on what he gets out of it," Theodore said.

    "House Caranel seems to already have a poor reputation these days any way," Agrienne sighed. A rather dramatic sigh.

    Dahlia''s eyes narrowed. "Then I''ll have nothing to lose by signing a decree." Agrienne raised a brow. She ground her teeth. He isn''t stupid enough to take the bait then. She had a lot to lose and he knew it. Forcing a High House into obedience would make her seem oppressive. It would unsettle others to see a large part of Xenaria not being in agreement to waging war. And army morale might dampen if they learned that a large supplier of their food stores would be coming from an unwilling party. "What do you want," Dahlia finally asked, speaking through her teeth.

    Agrienne laughed. It only made Dahlia''s scowl deepen. "You''re adorable when you''re upset, you know? I want¡­ hmm¡­ your hand," he said, resting an elbow on the table and cupping his chin in one hand.

    She blinked. Her heart played hopscotch in her chest. "I beg your pardon?"

    "I''ve always admired you, Your Majesty. You don''t need to answer right away. We can be proper about it if you wish. I don''t mind spending time courting you. Just say yes and I''ll put full efforts into this war or whatever. Food, militia, anything you ask of me."

    She stared at the twisting patterns of the wooden table. No one else was hearing these words except for Eildred and Theodore. Eildred she could trust with anything. Theodore already had a distaste for Agrienne. All she had to do was lie and say yes, and yet, why was it bothering her to say such a simple thing? She glanced up at Agrienne only to find that he was still looking at her with his handsome face and smile. She snapped her eyes back to the table, feeling heat in her cheeks. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting this way? It was a half-hearted proposal from a womanizing despot. She had zero reason to consider the offer.

    A very handsome despot. It would grant the crown a lot of power to marry a Caranel and would create greater cohesion within the nation. And it would provide some degree of protection from encroaching enemies like the Trillians.

    No! Why was she entertaining something so ridiculous? Why believe Agrienne would bother to provide any protection when he openly oppressed his own people? What do I want?

    She had Adrian, but he was possibly a traitor. Her dearest friend was in a coma and inching closer to death every day. And now, this terribly handsome yet rotten man was offering to court her. She feared she would be fool enough to actually fall for him if she gave him the chance. And that would lead to far too many troubles. Possibly even her death. Given how he''d seized power from better members of his House, Agrienne very likely coveted the throne. As a matriarchy, Xenaria wouldn''t accept him as a ruler, but his rank as ''king'' would remain and all he would be required to do is remarry to a simpleton noblewoman to maintain that power.

    Dahlia wanted it all to end. She wanted to be safe. Wanted to be¡­ I just want to be loved. She needed someone to hold her. Someone she could put her faith in. Someone that would tell her that everything was going to be alright when she wasn''t feeling well. Someone just like Madrivall. She started biting her thumbnail. Eildred shuffled behind her, his shadow, darker than the shade of the domed roof, inching forward and surrounding her more than it already was. She snapped her hand back down.

    Dahlia exhaled, pushing back her chair mere centimeters to bury herself deeper in Eildred''s shadow, finding both comfort and confidence within it. She met Agrienne''s eyes and opened her mouth to respond when her attention was drawn to the side as a fourth member of the Guard entered the clearing, whispering something to the two standing watch a few dozen meters from the garden house and handing them a letter. One of the two came forth and presented the letter to Dahlia.

    She skimmed through its contents, headaches growing with every word read. It felt as if a boulder had been placed upon her head. Dahlia set the paper down, pinching the top of her nose and closing her eyes. Eildred rested a hand on her shoulder. She guessed he''d read it as well, standing right behind her.

    "I''m going to go ahead and assume the contents weren''t pleasant," Theodore said, sliding the bottle of wine in her direction while stroking his goatee with the other. She opened one eye to glance at him, passing the letter over to him. He frowned, slowly reaching for it.

    "The both of you are dismissed," Dahlia said, her voice coming out in a pained whisper. "We''ll continue this discussion later."

    "Is it really that ba¡­" Theodore''s voice drifted off. He snapped to his feet, knocking back the chair he was seated on. The skin upon his face creased as pure rage covered his expression. He grabbed the bottle of wine and downed half its content entirety in one swig before storming out of the garden. Agrienne watched with a bemused look, staying seated.

    Dahlia rose to her feet, gathering the length of her dress to make sure its edges didn''t touch the ground. She found the singing of songbirds to suddenly be acutely annoying rather than calming. She slowly walked away, Eildred following after.

    "What now?" he asked.

    "I¡­" I don''t know, she wanted to say. But how could she say that? It would make him lose faith. "I want to rest for a bit." The letter was from Tilda Coraine, Theodore''s spouse. The island of Kovar had been attacked and conquered by pirates. Pirates originating from the Kingdom of Eurale. They''d sacked their own ports and had then raided Kovar. With Theodore in Exaltyron, his captains hadn''t been capable of mounting an effective response. Dahlia felt guilty. The one time Lord Coraine actually obeyed a call to summons, his demesne got sacked. She somewhat felt responsible for pulling him away. For being a failure of a queen who hadn''t considered the varying situations of her many subjects and had instead been tunneled on what she wanted herself. "I just want to rest," she said again, this time whispering.

    "Of course," Eildred said.

    Strange. His deep and commanding voice was more calming than any song birds could sing.

 Chapter 58: Faith (Book 2, Chapter 21)

    <u>Chapter 21 - Faith</u>

    Dahlia paused before her chambers, hand upon the doorknob. Her eyes sank into the waves imprinted in the wood of the door. She blinked a few times to stop her mind from drifting away. It was hardly past midday. Yet she wanted to curl up in bed and close her eyes. She turned her head and squinted down the red carpeted hallway, white luminite embedded in the walls. She had no memory of walking down it. Was she really that tired?

    Eildred stood two feet away from her with hands behind his back. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, his height a good few inches more than hers. The barest of lines marked his face. Slights of grey could be seen in his neatly kept beard and hair. A strange combination. His appearance did not complement his deep violet uniform in the slightest. Then again, he probably didn''t care about his appearance.

    He looked so much like Madrivall. Same broad shoulders and tight chest. Same serious yet somewhat soft expression. Dahlia felt her eyelids droop. She leaned forward unafraid of falling, knowing that he would catch her. Maybe even hold her. Let her press her forehead against his chest.

    "Your Majesty?"

    Her eyes snapped open. She spun around to face the door again. What was she thinking? He was Madrivall''s brother. She didn''t want to put her captain in an uncomfortable position.

    "Your Majesty," he said again. "Would you like me to wait outside, or will you be resting for a while? I can have someone else posted to stand guard."

    Dahlia swallowed. His voice was soothing like the gentle headwind found only before the bow of a sail ship. She turned the doorknob and stepped inside. "I think I''ll be resting for a while," she said. But she didn''t want him to go. She wanted to know he was still there and within reach if she asked for him.

    Eildred had other duties to attend to. He worked so hard and asked of nothing in return. Never asked for a break. Never left for an evening to spend at a tavern. He was always on the palace grounds so long as she remained there as well. Always ensuring her security and keeping her informed on matters concerning the realm. He almost did too much. Dahlia wished he''d ask for something. She''d grant it without hesitation. He had earned it. She turned to face him again.

    Eildred bowed low. "Then I''ll have someone posted here."

    She nodded and slowly closed the door before he''d risen to standing posture. Someone wasn''t really needed to stand by her door. The hallways leading to her chambers had pairs of Queen''s Guard standing watch. She pressed her head against the door, trying to hear Eildred''s footsteps as he walked down the hall. Her fingers were still curled around the knob. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the door open again, the passing wind make her dress and hair flutter for a moment. "Eil¡ª¡­ Sir Aegis!" she called as she stepped out. Why did I stop myself from saying his name?

    He came back using longer and faster strides than usual. "Your Majesty?"

    Dahlia blinked. What now? Why did she call him back? "I¡­ I''m sorry. Could you keep me company for a while, Sir Aegis? I could use your counsel."

    He nodded. "Of course."

    She let him in and closed the door behind him.

    "Your Majesty, I don''t think it''s appropriate to close the door while I''m here."

    She rolled her eyes, walking past him and taking a seat on her four poster bed. "I''d rather our conversations didn''t leak to unwanted ears, Sir Aegis."

    "The halls are secured by men and servants that Finral and I trust."

    Stop making sound arguments for Flames'' sake! She didn''t respond and lay back, resting her head on a soft pillow, uncaring for whether her dress suffered wrinkles or not. She kicked off her tight and elevated shoes, letting her feet rest and exposing skin above her knees with the way her dress was crumpled beneath her legs. Eildred stood mute a half dozen feet away from her. She sighed, curling up to make room at the bed''s edge. "Come sit here," she commanded, gesturing with her left hand. He hesitated. She could see confusion in his expression. Her heart rate increased as he stepped forward. He''s Madrivall''s brother, Dahlia. Don''t do anything you''ll regret.

    Eildred sat down and took hold of her right wrist, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth. She flushed, realizing that she''d been biting her nails again. "What did you need my counsel with, Your Majesty?"

    "Would it kill you to use my name, Sir Aegis?"

    "It would be disrespectful."

    "Then I command you to use my name while you''re here."

    "As you wish, Dahlia."

    She stayed silent for a while, wondering if he could hear the pounding within her chest. She closed her eyes still tired enough to want to sleep. Feeling safe and relieved now to actually fall asleep. If anything did happen, Eildred would take care of it. He was reliable. Dahlia opened one eye to see what he was doing. He stared at the carpeted floor, legs hanging over the side of the bed, hands clasped together and back slightly hunched, seeming as if he were deep in thought. His expression was otherwise unreadable. Dahlia had half a mind to try biting her nails again just to feel his touch. But she couldn''t. This was nothing more than foolish desire. Nothing more than her imprinting her dead husband''s image upon his elder brother. She sighed and turned away, pressing the back of her right hand to her forehead. "I feel like it''s my fault," she said.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "Your fault?" he asked, turning to face her.

    She blinked in surprise. There were more lines in Eildred''s face than usual. He looked worried for once. She didn''t like it. Didn''t like being capable of reading him. He was supposed to have the answers when she didn''t. Or at least seem like he had the answers. Was he worried about her, or about the state of affairs without her leadership? Probably the latter, given how hard of a worker he was. She felt guilty. She was disappointing Eildred with her weak demeanor. "Kovar''s conquest I mean. It''s as if I''m to blame for it. I asked Lord Coraine to come here. And then Kovar fell."

    "It isn''t your fault, Dahlia. It is either a coincidence, or Theodore had enemy spies within his circle."

    "But still, if I hadn''t¡­ He might even blame me. I haven''t exactly been kind to him." Theodore had always seemed the carefree type. She''d never imagined he could put up such an enraged expression. Then there was the tone of his voice when she''d questioned his loyalty.

    "He isn''t the kind of man to hold grudges when there is no reason to have a grudge to begin with," Eildred said.

    "You don''t hate him?" she asked. Eildred had broken a few of Theodore''s bones during Dahlia''s wedding night after his comments regarding her weight.

    "He''s a good man, Dahlia."

    She inhaled a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "Then go," she said.

    "Pardon?"

    "Go and help him. Take the island of Kovar back in my name. You can use some of Exaltyron''s forces."

    "And leave your side? He''s more than capable of¡ª"

    Dahlia sat up and placed a hand on his arm. "It will be faster if you''re there. And it will be a gesture of goodwill towards Lord Coraine. Please? Listen to me this once. You need a change of pace rather than be caged here babying me all the time."

    "Your Majesty! I wouldn''t dare presume to¡ª"

    "Eildred," she said softly, finally finding it within herself to use his name. She needed him gone for a while. If he was losing confidence in her, she needed to reinstall that confidence by proving to him that she was more than capable of making decisions on her own. And most of all, she needed him away to sort out her feelings. To figure out whether what she felt was just primal desire, or if it was a true yearning. If she would truly miss him or not. "Take about half the city''s royal troops. If I recall correctly, Lord Coraine has some twenty warships, but hardly two hundred soldiers per. Don¡¯t worry for me. Besides, I''m sure you''ll make all the necessary preparations for me anyway," she smiled. "Don''t reject this request, please. Or I''ll be forced to command you."

    Eildred stared at his hands for a while. "I swear on the crown to return swiftly and victorious."

    "You needn''t swear anything. I''ve always had full faith in you."

    He stood up and bowed. "Then by your leave, Your Majesty. I will depart at once."

    She tucked in her knees and hugged them, nodding. "I think I''ll take a nap now." Dahlia stared at the white lotus upon Eildred''s back as he turned and left, closing the door behind him. He didn''t need to leave right that moment. He could''ve at least argued a little harder for staying with her. At least until she tired and fell asleep.

    ***

    Eildred glanced back at the plateau upon which the royal palace was perched. A setting sun lay hidden behind it, making it seem as if the plateau exuded a radiance oft found in paintings. A legion in white uniforms marched behind him. Preparing them to set out had taken the better part of the day. They weren''t as well trained as Duke Serene''s soldiers, and nor did they have the same experience.

    "Thank you," Theodore said, riding a plain brown horse with a streak of white on its face.

    Eildred grunted. His own horse, as was the case for all Queen''s Guard, was a specially bred pure black with powerful legs built for charging into enemy lines or breaking free of them with ease. "Save your thanks for Her Majesty."

    "The help is most welcome. Morale will be high as well with the Thundersword himself present. I could return to Qalydon faster on my own, but I''m not sure what to expect from the Fang of Eurale. I never trusted Admiral Dhorjun to begin with. But I didn''t think he''d be bold enough to attack. It''s my own fault for not expecting it."

    Eildred estimated the distance between Qalydon and the capital. In an average estimate, it would take just under a month for the marching legion to reach the port city. About a day to sail to Kovar. And then that same timeframe to return. Accounting for possible disruptions, he expected to return to Dahlia''s side in under three months. Harvest season would be nearing its end. "Do you suppose the Kingdom of Eurale has a possible hand in this?" he asked.

    "No," Theodore said. "King Agram isn''t the scheming type. He wouldn''t have his own ports sacked. Well, I suppose it wouldn''t hurt to imagine the possibility at least. By the way, was it wise of you to leave? I''ve been hearing strange rumors regarding the rise of Trillians and the supposed support they have within her majesty''s court. And then there''s Lord Galadin and Caranel. Neither of which I''d trust with¡­ well with anything really."

    "It can''t be helped," Eildred responded. "I do as I am commanded." Except he wasn''t commanded to do anything. But how was he to refuse her when she asked him with such a kind expression? He had every right to refuse her. To convince her that he was needed at her side. That she needed his protection. There were others amongst the Queen''s Guard that he trusted could fulfill his duties for a while if ever he wasn''t available. But Eildred wanted to be the one fulfilling those duties. He wanted to be the one at Dahlia''s side at all times. "Lord Galadin and Caranel will not be permitted to remain on palace grounds. It''s my job to make sure unsavory characters like them are kept away from Her Majesty." Except for Adrian Rinz. The one person he couldn''t find a way to get rid of because of how it might hurt Dahlia.

    "Aye and you do that job well," Theodore said. "Maybe too well eh?"

    "Meaning?" Eildred asked, eyes narrowed.

    "Nothing. Should we pick up the marching pace? I can''t imagine pirates being kind to the citizens of Kovar."

    "Yes," Eildred nodded. The faster he completed his task, the faster he''d be allowed to return to the queen''s side. "Light run!" he bellowed, nudging his horse into a faster trot. He glanced back at Exaltyron one last time, its radiance considerably lower now that the sun had sunk further and the day''s warmth dissipated.

 Chapter 59: Insurrection (Book 2, Chapter 22)

    <u>Chapter 22 - Insurrection</u>

    Lines of people streamed out the Trillian temple''s grand gates, most of them buzzing with conversation. Their voices drifted away and was eventually drowned by an echoing silence when everyone had passed. Azurus watched as Odain gathered together sheets containing words from the sermon he had just delivered to a group of Heirans. A normal speech preaching morals and unity. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just as it had been for months.

    Azurus leaned against a towering support pillar, waiting for Odain to finish gathering his belongings. He wanted to get back to researching Chronary. Over the months, he and Odain had theorized much in regards to how this strange magic worked, but most of their theories fell flat. The one thing Azurus did know how to create was a Gatestone. But while he had created a few for himself, he hadn''t used any. He wanted to go visit Emeria, but hadn''t a clue where she was. It would be strange if he were to appear in either Arcaeus Peak or Exaltyron and started asking questions when he''d yet to even complete the task he was given.

    He still wasn''t certain about making mention of Chronary to anyone. Not until he could figure out how far the magic could be taken. Or if it was even safe to make mention of it. Thus far, neither he nor Odain could wield it to dangerous levels. They only knew how to make Gatestones which hardly lasted a handful of seconds.

    "Young Richter," Odain said, stopping before the massive pillar. "I''m afraid I cannot spend further time in research today. I have some prior engagements to attend."

    Azurus nodded, not feeling very disappointed. They''d already spent part of the morning researching anyhow. Odain occasionally had engagements involving mealtimes with the wealthy of Heira. "Then I suppose I''ll return to the Draumen estate early today," Azurus said. "I''ll continue to study what we''ve already gone through should I have free time from any duties."

    Odain nodded. "Keep in mind that mere studying is not what makes a scholar. A scholar''s nature is to be curious. To ask questions and seek answers. Use what you know to try and further your understanding of Chronary. And then advance that by asking new questions and trying new theories. I have hope that this magic will one day change the world for the better," he finished, walking away.

    Azurus turned to leave, walking down the middle aisle of the grand prayer hall. There was something intoxicating about learning and trying new things. Even more so for things that no one else was aware of. There were so many ways in which he imagined Chronary to be used. He never had a penchant for sitting behind a desk, but this was different. Azurus was eager to learn more. He steadied the straps to a leather satchel that hung around one shoulder, grey shirt seeming brighter than it actually was due to the surrounding luminite pews. Quick tapping footsteps closed in on him from behind. He glanced back to see Ophelia skipping down the aisle, white skirt dancing with each step. Her face was matted with sweat. She''d likely just come from the infirmary. She was exhausted, but not nearly as drained as he''d first seen her a few months prior.

    "You''ve gotten awfully close to his holiness," Ophelia said, walking beside him.

    "Jealous?" Azurus teased, somewhat grateful for her presence. He hadn''t much opportunity to have idle conversations since the beginning of his mission.

    "Nope," she answered, crossing her arms. "His holiness is kind, but rather boring. He somehow turns everything into a lecture on confusing philphosophies."

    "Philosophy," Azurus corrected.

    "What about you? Have you tried praying to Trillia yet?" she asked.

    "I have," Azurus lied. He''d taken part in congregations but hadn''t bothered praying. What good was it to pray to an inanimate idol in the first place?

    "And?"

    "And what?"

    "Have your prayers come true?"

    "Have yours?" he countered.

    "I¡­ I don''t actually believe in Trillia," she muttered. Azurus stayed silent. "You won''t scold me or anything?" she then quietly asked.

    He frowned. He thought Ophelia to be chipper. She seemed rather depressed right now. "Why would I? You can believe what you want."

    "My step-ma sold me to the Trillians," she blurted.

    Azurus glanced down at her, eyes narrowed. She seemed in need of someone to lend an ear. And that someone is me? Was she trusting him because he''d helped her once a few months ago? Perhaps Odain trusted him for the same reason. He did share the existence of Chronary with me the day we met¡­

    It was an odd thing, trust. Growing up in the Impoverished District, Azurus had made habit of not trusting others, yet the way others now relied on him after a simple show of virtue. These people wouldn''t last two days in the Impoverished District. So it fell on him to honor the trust people placed in him.

    Yet the task assigned him by the queen loomed over his thoughts like a stormcloud ready to burst.

    Ophelia looked up at him, biting the corner of her lower lip. Her gaze snapped back down when she met his eyes. Azurus suddenly felt annoyed with himself. She was looking away, rubbing one arm nervously. She wasn''t chipper at all. She was Heiran. Just another victim of the somber atmosphere of the city. "Sold?" he questioned.

    "Not everyone was fond of my Gift," she explained. "We accidently discovered it when I''d scraped my knee after a fall. My step-ma kept it hidden, fearing what others might say. I always wanted to be scribe. You know, read texts and learn more about the world. Maybe even travel. But one day, the Trillians started asking for Healers. I thought nothing of it. That was, until they started offering families of Healers large sums of gold. I was sold. And now, I''m duty bound to arrive at the temple every morning and Heal the wounded. I¡­ I tried hiding once. Step-ma beat me for it, and the Trillians were mean too."

    Azurus closed his fists. Ophelia never smiled when she was in the temple. She wore smiles. Because it was part of her task. While she wasn''t abused currently, she was still being used by the Trillians. She was performing miracles under their Goddess'' name. And all this time he''d thought of her as a cheerful girl. Am I a bad judge of character? "What of other Healers? I''ve heard they were sent some place. Are they not returning?"

    "I don''t know where they went or when they''ll return. My job wasn''t so bad when they were here. Now¡­ By the time I go home, I''m too drained to try reading books. And there''s all the chores step-ma makes me do as well."

    "You can''t Heal your own fatigue?" Azurus asked.

    She frowned up at him as if the answer were obvious. "I can, but I just tire myself in the process. Thus, I actually never can."

    He scratched his head. It did make sense. Healers were only supposed to be capable of Healing wounds and exhaustion. They couldn''t cure diseases. But what about poisons? "Ophelia, can you cure a poisoned individual?"

    "No," she answered. "I can''t even Heal burn scars if the scar is too old."

    Azurus grunted. Healers would be no use to the Duke then. They stepped out of the temple and onto the dreary streets of Heira. Even with a clear sky, everyone seemed to walk around with slumped shoulders and heads lowered no sooner had they gone a hundred paces away from the temple. Ophelia didn''t say much more, likely afraid of her words entering the wrong ears and getting her into trouble with the Heirans. Azurus turned down a different street while Ophelia kept walking straight, lip curled down. He paused, turning back to her. "Should I walk you home?" he asked.

    Her expression lit up, marks of color appearing on her cheeks. "I''d like that," she mumbled.

    He nodded, following her, wondering if it was really worth extending a temporary hand to a hurting person. His presence would provide the girl with a temporary comfort, but she was likely returning to what was an abusive household. Can''t save everyone, Azurus. You can only do all that you can.

    ***

    Azurus hummed a melancholic tune he''d heard long ago, hand upon the leather satchel hanging from one shoulder. Eleanoire trotted onto the Draumen Estate grounds. Evening shadows danced as a gentle breeze brushed past yellowing leaves. A shabby pony nibbled at grass shoots around the manor. Azurus sighed as he dismounted, leaving his black mare to roam the grounds freely. Time had blazed past just as the sunset in a dimming sky. It had already been several months since he''d last seen Emeria.

    And he wasn''t any closer to completing his mission.

    Each morning was spent wishing Emeria were there with him. The day was spent engrossed in research, in trying to achieve some sort of a breakthrough in Chronary that might help Xenaria for the better. The evening was spent wondering when he would see Emeria again.

    All this time, Odain had shown no signs of foul play.

    Any time Azurus spent with the Vicegerent was done studying Chronary. Any conversation he tried sparking ended in long winded lectures about moral philosophy. Odain had scars enough to be a battle hardened warrior. Had the muscles for it as well and carried around a rather beautiful sword. Yet, he acted the part of an ages old historian and scholar. He was also rather secretive about Chronary. He claimed that the closest of his aides only knew vague details and didn''t study like he did, instead being engrossed in religious texts or some such. It made sense to not share such dangerous knowledge.

    It was what gave Azurus confidence that Odain wouldn''t try using Gatestones to mass transport an army. If Gates only lasted a few dozen seconds, then too many soldiers would need to be in possession of the stones, leading to too many questions and an annulment in any secrecy.

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    Azurus peaked inside his satchel as he entered the estate, still humming. Odain had written a few pages of certain theories, giving them Azurus for study. He''d come to learn quite a lot about Chronary. It wasn''t magic. Not entirely. It was an exchange. To cause an action, a price needed to be paid. And that price was life force. It was in theory possible to cause a withering plant to stand strong if it drained the life of surrounding plants. The problem lay in convincing the surrounding plants to give up their life for another plant. Plants had no conscience and sentient will with which to make such a decision.

    But people were another story.

    A healthy person could be convinced to give up some of their life to Heal an ailing one. A child''s broken bone could be mended if they gave up a fraction of their future life. The Gift of Healing was rare. But through Chronary, a revolution could be brought out within the sphere of practicing physics. And then there were possible military applications. Was there a world where a person absorbed enough life force to be considered immortal? Was it possible to create an army of such people? Immortality was a thought Azurus dwelt on often. An army that couldn''t lose. That couldn''t be defeated. Restoration of Exaltyron''s Impoverished District, an end to Tarmia''s aggressions, a unified Illusterra and a true everlasting peace. All of this could be achieved through Chronary.

    Distant dreams. Azurus smirked at his own childish aspirations. Thoughts of grandeur when he couldn''t even figure out simple things like strengthening crops. Or fixing a dreary city full of depressed individuals. Or seeing the lie within an ailing girl''s smile.

    "One would question your purpose in going to Heira when you return here looking so amused," Roxanne said, arms folded. She''d been waiting by the door. Her hair was tied into a long braid just as Lady Sar''tara tended to wear. "Azurus, I hope you haven''t forgotten your mission. Or fallen for a girl in Heira."

    "Not at all," Azurus responded calmly. He couldn''t imagine betraying Emeria''s trust. He wanted nothing more than to get back to her, but he''d gleaned absolutely nothing from Odain or any other Trillian.

    Roxanne didn''t seem to believe him. "What''s the bag for?" she asked, gesturing to the leather satchel.

    "Ah, Odain has me studying history and philosophy," he quickly said. "And the Trillian faith. He''s been trying to convince me to take a place amongst his high ranking priests."

    Roxanne unfolded her arms. She held a sheet of paper in her hands. "You''ve been studying under him and have learned nothing regarding his possible plans?" He shook his head in response. Roxanne seemed more irritated than disappointed. She held out the paper in her hand. "This came in earlier this morning," she said. "Tell me what you make of it."

    "Is it from the capital?" he asked. Roxanne shook her head. Azurus frowned. If it wasn''t a missive from the queen, then why was he being given a letter addressed to the Draumen estate? He unfolded the paper and read through its contents.

    To the Lady of House Draumen

    The winds are changing. A new season is on the horizon. One that may be cold. Or one that may be hot. Regardless of what it is, this season will be preceded by a brilliant and terrible one. A season the color of flames. This letter''s intent is to invite you upon the ship riding these winds. To see to it that you stand on the opposite side of the flames and not within them.

    We are the Neo Xenarian Federation. We humbly extend our greetings to you. Long has this nation favoured the High Houses and made light of lesser nobility such as us. It is time for us to turn our fate around and break the chains by which the crown holds us. Do not be alarmed. This is no foolish rebellion. The Federation grows in numbers by the day. We will expect your response via the message bird sent to you. Do choose your position wisely.

    Regards,

    Neo Xenarian Federation

    Azurus furrowed his brows, reading the letter twice over. "An insurrection? They''re making it sound threatening."

    "Probably made to seem that way," Roxanne said. "I don''t imagine they''re very big an organization. I can see the appeal in recruiting me. They''d get a direct contact into her majesty''s Royal Guard, given my brother is the second in command."

    "Imagine¡­" Azurus mused. Something came back to him. Something the palace chamberlain often said. Imagination is a weapon. "They''re also confident enough to contact you, knowing that your brother is second in command. They''d have to have made the assumption that you''re loyal to the crown. Lady Roxanne, would you prefer I stayed within the manor for a time as a guard?" he offered. He''d come to enjoy his time in this home. Roxanne and Redmond made him feel welcome.

    She snorted. "That won''t be necessary. I have nothing of value worth stealing. Besides, your mission is far larger than some sod attempt at an insurrection. I merely meant to ask you what you made of the letter."

    "I think you should practice caution, my lady."

    "Sir Aegis, that''s not what I''m asking."

    He frowned. Then what¡­ "You mean the Trillians? No. I don''t think so. This doesn''t seem like something the Vicegerent would do." Would Odain even start a conflict when he was such a pacifist and advocate for unity?

    "Then that''s that," Roxanne finished, waving a hand. She turned away towards the dining room. "Focus on your mission then. The Trillians pose a far greater threat to this nation. If some rebellious force does exist near to here, I doubt Heira''s garrison will ignore it. Still, I''ll inform her majesty with a missive of my own."

    Azurus looked down at the letter again. Definitely not Odain. But concerning nonetheless. Perhaps he should stay put and guard Roxanne and her family. It would be the correct choice as a knight. And it would help sell his image as a butler. But did he need to sell that image any longer? Odain never once questioned it.

    He still had a duty to fulfill. There''s only so much I can do on my own. Only so many people that I can try helping. Roxanne was right. His task was more important. It concerned all of Xenaria. That and he still needed to study Chronary, and wanted to see Emeria again.

    ***

    A few days following

    A missive from Roxanne Draumen and yet another report of this Neo Xenarian Federation. Multiple reports had come in from differing locations. This problem was bigger than it seemed, or it was widespread enough to seem large. And they''d begun a mere cycle following Eildred''s departutre.

    Dahlia sighed as she curled up in her bed, chewing on her thumbnail. The dark of her room was overwhelming all on her own. Every night felt overwhelming. And subsequent mornings hardly felt any better now that Eildred was gone. She really was missing him.

    Things were ocurring so conveniently against her wishes. She felt powerless to stop any of it. Adrian had kept his promise, backing an offensive against the Empire in the last meeting of figureheads in her court. His decision had swayed some hesitant others. But the decision to proceed any further was put on halt because of the incoming reports regarding insurrections.

    Dahlia was queen. The Guiding Hand and Shield of Xenaria. The one with whom all decisive power lay. And yet, she was afraid of making any decision at all. Afraid that one misstep would cause everything to crumble. There were so many blades poised at her throat, each one inching closer and closer. One wrong move and she''d be run through. But stay as she were, and the blades inevitably would reach her.

    She stood up and walked to a mirror hanging above a dresser, if but only to stare at her own miserable and disheveled appearance. The only features she could clearly make out in the dark was the gold of her messy hair and the glint within her wet eyes. She rubbed her arms, her thin white nightgown doing little to protect from the creeping cold of harvest season.

    I just want a hug. Is that too much to ask, oh Creator above?

    Dahlia turned to face her bed. But she didn¡¯t approach it. She stayed seated on the stool before the dresser. She feared the cold of her sheets. She needed someone else within them. And that someone couldn¡¯t be Adrian. She no longer felt safe near him. Felt sick to know that she''d even allowed him in her chambers.

    She looked back at the mirror, her eyes following the reflection of a lonely tear rolling down one cheek. Why had she sent Eildred away? What was she thinking? How had she been so stupid to come to such a decision?

    Because you wanted to prove yourself¡­ Dahlia blinked, hands curling into fists. That''s right. Eildred was probably losing faith in her. She needed to prove to him that she was still the queen. Still worthy of her position. Of his admiration. Would he think of her the same way as she did of him if she showed him enough strength? He has to, right?

    She needed to be decisive. Needed everything in order for when Eildred returned. To not only restore the realm, but restore her captain''s confidence and perhaps have a chance at mending the wound in her heart that had been left by Madrivall''s untimely demise. Her gaze moved to the white wardrobe hiding Wind''s Eye, Madrivall''s sword and House Lakris'' only magical Artifact. I should have given it to Eildred, she thought.

    Dahlia released a sigh of regret. First matter of import was this insurrection. Reports of them stated groups numbering in the hundreds razing villages or killing local lords that refused to obey. The largest of the factions was reported to be east of Heira. Likely the same faction that''d threatened Lady Draumen. These groups needed to be dealt with while they were still separated from their own allies. Dahlia couldn''t allow them to consolidate their forces and create an army capable of posing a risk.

    She chewed on her thumbnail again. Queen''s Guard number eight hundred. Two dozen are with Emma at Arcaeus. If I cut palace security and send five hundred out¡­ Five hundred to Heira to be led by Azurus. Five hundred of the realm''s finest trained and armored warriors. She couldn''t send soldiers from the capital. Eildred had already taken half their number, and thinning them further while a rebellious force existed was likely not wise. Better to endanger her own security rather than that of her citizens. After all, what was a monarch if not just a servant and guard for her people?

    Five hundred Lotus Knights would be more than enough to triumph over militia of similar or even twice their number. And once the subjugation is complete, I''ll send a missive to have Azurus arrest Odain. Pin the rebellion on him, and have the boy return a hero.

    If Trillian converts saw her as a despot following the fact, then so be it. If Odain was innocent, then no matter. A harsh decision was better than no decision. Dahlia steeled her resolve. The sacrifice of her moral conscience was a petty price when compared to the peace of the realm. This assuming Odain was innocent. Which, if he was the same Lord Sun of the Thousand Sun City, then he would still have a genocide to answer for irregardless of his ties to this rebellion.

    Any aftermath could be dealt with after quelling the immediate threat. If need be, the throne could always be abdicated to Emeria. A queen had no business being selfish. Not when her kingdom was at stake. "This is for you, Emma. I hope you fare better than me when your time comes. So long as I am breathing, this nation will stand tall. I won''t let you inherit a broken kingdom."

    ***

    An unforeseen fortune. Eildred Aegis had been separated from the queen. The most troublesome of individuals was now out of the way. Odain stared at his own closed fist, admiring the lines of his flexed forearms. Admiring the many scars upon them. It was time to set aside the scholar within him and once again embrace his warmongering half.

    Odain spilled a group of Gatestones onto a map of Xenaria resting on the broken wood of his desk within the temple. He placed each and every one of them in locations where his planned insurrections were sprouting, using them as markers and carefully formulating a plan with which Xenaria could be brought to its knees. The Gatestones couldn''t transport armies without exposing the existence of Chronary to plebeians. But they could transport him. Now that he had fragmented battalions of brainwashed villagers and local lords spread throughout the land, he could micro manage each and every one of them to do exactly as he needed.

    The first order of business was making sure the captain of the Queen''s Guard never returned. He''d taken about half of Exaltyron''s numbers to the port city of Qalydon. With any luck, he would fall to a group of pirates. Though, better to assume that he wouldn''t. But he was bound to take some losses. Odain pushed a group of Gatestones before the Oakwood Forest. Ambush the Thundersword upon his return to the capital.

    He smiled, sitting down and slumping back in a chair. A wonderful plan. And now, without her seasoned advisor, Queen Dahlia had reduced palace security to remove the threat of a growing rebellion. Reduced her own level of safety. Bold. But a decision clearly driven by emotion and haste. "Poor girl," Odain mused. She didn''t know that her own Guard was compromised. That family members of her Guard had converted to the Trillian faith or had exploitable debts. "You poor, poor girl. Send out your personal knights and the palace will belong to me." Odain sighed. How he missed the days of old. Of having worthy opponents from amongst High House Zz''tai who could match his timeless experience and intellect.

    And last but not least, young Richter. Nay. Azurus. You, dear boy, are going to play the part of the beloved tragic hero.

 Chapter 60: Crumbling Bastions (Book 2, Chapter 23)

    <u>Chapter 23 - Crumbling Bastions</u>

    Twenty was the number of warships in Xenaria''s navy. Or more specifically, Theodore''s navy. Great ships the size of which Eildred had heard of, but never seen, each one a work of art, a shadowing behemoth with four masts, enormous ballistae lined up along their sides. Each ballistae could fire great iron bolts as thick as five spears bundled together.

    Every war vessel was docked along Qalydon''s stone harbor, gangplanks lowered, and soldiers in white marching up in columns of three. Eildred stood to the side, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He turned his head towards the city where lines of wives, sisters and mothers waved. Families of Qalydon''s finest. The port city didn''t have a large garrison of its own. Most aspiring career soldiers made their way to Arcaeus where fighting men were better served, despite Theodore''s higher salary offers. A strange thing. Tales of grandeur, of living legends, drew young men to Duke Serene rather than taking a high pay from Lord Coraine and living in relative safety. The seas, after all, rarely saw battles. I suppose I have a part to play in those supposed legends myself. Thundersword had been a name earned when fighting for House Serene.

    Perhaps circumstances would change now. Perhaps, after the liberation of Kovar, new tales would arise and those tales, repeated and exaggerated in taverns, could give rise to new legends, sparking a generation of young Qalydonians to enlist under their own lord. Maybe exaggerations won''t be needed. Theodore, in his younger years, had been a finer duelist than Kalin Serene. He was a leading actor hidden behind the stage curtains. And he was content with staying that way, with having little to no role in stories, remaining conspicuous and going beneath everyone''s gaze. Someone capable of going toe to toe with me. Capable of igniting the thrill within that I so long for.

    Lord Coraine was speaking to a dark haired woman with a light honey tan. She wore a flowery white dress, a small bundle in her arms. That had to be Tilda, and she was holding a child. Theodore marched away, the buttons of a worn burgundy coat undone, cutlass at both sides of his waist. His normally aloof expression was filled with determination, and behind those focused eyes were the flames of anger. He placed his tricorne atop his head and nodded towards Eildred as he passed by, stalking up the gangplank to The Salamander, the fleet''s flagship.

    Eildred glanced at the city one last time, at the grey skies hanging above it, and the white handkerchiefs waving in the hands of proud women, some crying, others shouting words of encouragement.

    "Sir Aegis!" cried a voice near drowned by a gust of wind as Eildred was turning to follow Lord Coraine.

    He turned to find Tilda walking to him, one arm holding the bundle to her breast and another pushing away her smooth black hair from before her eyes. She stopped about a dozen feet short of him.

    "Bring that idiot home in one piece!" she said, holding her head high and smiling. A proud smile. "And keep him from drinking too much!"

    Eildred pressed a gauntleted fist to his heart and lowered his head. He turned around without saying a word, the sounds of his heavy boots thumping against the wooden gangplank louder than any shout or cheer coming from the harbor. He was the last to board. He imagined what he looked like from behind. A spec in black armor boarding a great ship. Any other time, the back of the Thundersword would inspire. This time around, Theodore''s ships were the main point of pride.

    The gangplank was pulled up. "Raise anchor. Set sail!" Theodore bellowed. White sails were unfurled and the flagship soon set out, the rest of the fleet trailing. Theodore took his place before the helm.

    Eildred came to stand beside him, his heavy black armor making each footfall sound like a gong strike.

    "You know, it''s strange," the admiral said, hands gripping two ends of the wheel. "I''ve been in her majesty''s gardens twice only, and yet I feel as though I''m missing it."

    "Quite strange. You''d think the gardens would bring memories of your broken ribs," Eildred commented, smirking as Theodore touched his sides. A few years shy of twenty had passed since Eildred had thrashed him during Dahlia''s wedding night.

    "Right, right. My comments were a tad distasteful, I guess."

    "You guess?" Eildred asked, narrowing his eyes. "And a tad?" The High Lord merely shrugged in return. "That reminds me, how''s it I never heard of you having a child?"

    "You know I don''t like making issue of such things," Theodore said, spinning the wheel a few inches left. "I prefer to keep it that way. Lucky thing, that one. Tilda''s grown a lot softer since he came around."

    Thing? Eildred shook his head. "Another sailor in the making?"

    "Aye. Trauvel she''s named him. Trauvel Coraine. I''ll make a fine sailor out of him. But enough about that now. Those Flaming pirates. And that damn weasel, Dhorjun." His knuckles grew white as he strengthened his grip. "I''m not fond of leaving Qalydon''s shores undefended. I''m glad you''re here, Eildred. Let''s make quick work of these scum and be back on our way home."

    Eildred nodded. The smell of the sea bothered him. It reminded him of fish, something he actively avoided eating. His distaste for seafood had remained hidden for a very long time. Only his brother had known of it. He wondered if Madrivall had ever made mention of it to Dahlia.

    Salty breeze aside, Eildred didn''t hate being on open waters. The gentle manner in which the waves rocked the ships was calming ¡ªlikened by poets to an infant being in a loving mother''s embrace. Eildred looked out into the vast expanse of blue. It seemed infinite, stretching to the horizon and beyond, separated only by a line between it and the moving dark-grey skies like a layer of oil floating atop the waters. He put his hand out as if to grasp at its edge. "At least the sea is never changing."

    "Aye. She''s always been that vast expanse of blue and always will be. More beautiful than anything else this world has to offer, if you ask me. You should visit more often, Eildred. Have you seen the ocean floor? It''s a lot more of a wondrous sight than any forest I''ve been to."

    Beautiful, yes. But not more than anything. Not more than Dahlia in her gentle white dresses, sipping tea with those soft lips, sitting beneath the comforting shade of her garden house. "Sinking to the depths isn''t exactly my cup of tea," Eildred said. "I don''t even know how to swim."

    Theodore laughed. "So the invincible Thundersword has a weakness after all, eh?" His speech tended to be very informal when in more comfortable settings.

    A strong southward wind propelled the fleet forward at favorable speeds. Eildred felt the gust at the back of his head, kissing past his ears like a teasing lover.

    Theodore left the helm to one of his crewmates and motioned for Eildred to follow him down to the captain''s cabin. The air in the room was heavy with the smell of alcohol. "This here''s my office," Theodore proudly proclaimed. "This is where all the business gets done!"

    The cabin, unsurprisingly, was filled with crates of aged wines and rum. Nothing like what Eildred expected a captain''s room to look like. But Lord Coraine was no ordinary drunkard. For every crate of alcohol, there were detailed nautical charts nailed to the wall. All of them drawn with accurate measurements of distance and depth of the waters, notes pinned alongside them detailing expected winds of the area and the changing of tides during different seasons and lunar cycles. Eildred couldn''t even begin to guess the amount of work such an endeavour must have taken. The admiral popped a cork and held out the bottle. Eildred shook his head at the offer. "I do not think it wise to drink with a battle looming overhead."

    "Battle and bottle are siblings born of different mothers. Just a little something to calm the nerves," the man said as he took a huge swig. "Who am I kidding? As if the mighty Sir Aegis fears anything. Ah, that hits the spot. Just the right amount of burning and sweetness from these date wines. Have you ever had a date, Eildred?"

    He shook his head in response.

    "Of course you haven¡¯t. You follow her majesty around like a puppy. Or so they say. How could you ever have time for women?" Theodore laughed.

    Eildred crossed his arms. Theodore reached in the drawers of his desk and took out a small box. He opened it and held it out. A sweet fragrance came from within. Inside were small dried brown fruits that appeared similar to chocolates. Eildred cautiously examined one before putting it in his mouth. There was nothing but sweetness. It didn''t have the bittersweet taste of dark chocolates. It was unlike any fruit he''d ever had. "This¡­ is quite good," he admitted, gnawing of the remains stuck to the pit of the fruit.

    "Aye, it is. Quite cheap too. Readily found in the markets of Eurale. But the wine is the expensive stuff." Theodore reclined in his seat and drew one of two cutlasses at his waist. The blade was a darker shade than what Eildred was used to seeing. "Can''t remember the last time I used these to draw blood. Made from iron sand found deep within the deserts. Far sturdier than the stuff from Baron Galadin''s mines. Far more expensive as well. My entire fleet is armed with such weapons. Cost me as much as it would to buy the half of Qalydon."

    "You''re quite the spender," Eildred commented. The rage Theodore was trying to hide behind an aloof attitude showed all the more with alcohol running in his system.

    "I spend for quality. Besides, I sell dates for ten times the purchasing price and wines for around three times as much. Now you see how much I have to lose by giving up Kovar to a bunch of corsairs? Qalydon also has more refugees than it can adequately house. I don''t fancy people under my charge living in the streets."

    "These pirates. How much of a threat do you consider them to be?" Eildred asked.

    "Dhorjun Rossa is as skilled a ship captain as any. The Fang of Eurale. Or was, anyway. Dhorjun the Black Fanged Reaver is what the reports say he''s calling himself. Captain of the Silver Serpent Pirates." Theodore smirked. "Fancy naming sense, I''ll give them that. Whether he has the vessels or the numbers to match us is another question. I don''t believe he''s funded by any of the desert kingdoms." Theo examined one of the sea charts on his wall. "I haven''t seen the man in over a year. I''d heard of small time pirates attempting coastal raids and stealing from unguarded merchant ships. Never thought Dhorjun would be the ringleader."

    "You didn''t bother dealing with the pirates?"

    "They hadn¡¯t hindered my business until now. All merchant vessels going to and from Xenaria were accompanied by my warships. The raided vessels belonged to either desert merchants, or Empire ones. Let do to untrusted neighbors, you know?" He took another drink. "It worked out in our benefit to let Empire merchants get sacked. I was also paying more mind to Tilda when she started carrying."

    "Theodore, her majesty isn''t going to be too pleased to hear that you didn¡¯t handle a threat when it was minor¡­ Granted, I think she hates you already."

    "It''s always her majesty this, her majesty that, with you. Almost as if you''re in love with her." Eildred didn''t respond. His gaze fell to the floor. Theodore raised a brow. "Scorched seas! You actually are? I was only joking. Does Dahlia know?"

    He shook his head. She didn¡¯t know. And she shouldn''t ever know. She was his brother''s widow. But her strange behaviour that day. Wouldn''t it be better if he pressed harder? Better if she were interested in him than Adrian, a potential traitor? No. Those thoughts were purely selfish. Dahlia was in a confused state, looking for someone to cling on to. Only, he could never be that someone. It wouldn''t be right. And on the slight chance that Adrian was innocent, he would have only played with her feelings when she were most vulnerable. It was something that could never be.

    "I love Xenaria as much as you do, Eildred. I''ll die for her even. I just hate having an overarching authority on top of me. I always wondered how you, the best in the realm, let yourself become restricted to the palace grounds for most of your time. How it was you could endure putting shackles upon your own strength instead of seeking to use it. Figures. The only shackles strong enough to hold one like you would be shackles of the heart."

    "Speak for yourself," Eildred said. "Theodore Twincrescent. Or do you prefer the Moonlight Sculptor?"

    Theodore leaned back against his bolted desk, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. "Been well over a decade since I heard those names."

    Eildred examined the man. Theodore was a strange character. The kind to wear a carefree attitude over a warrior''s spirit. The kind to play the part of a greedy merchant while being a loyal vassal fortifying the nation''s defenses. The kind to openly proclaim his guilt at times, if only to prevent rumors. Eildred suspected that something similar had occurred during the queen''s wedding night. Theodore wasn''t insensitive enough to lay such an untasteful insult on such an important night.

    Deep rumbling echoed from above, sending vibrations along the wooden structure of the ship. Eildred and Theodore made their way to the deck only to be greeted by rainfall. The sailors weren''t concerned. For men that spent most of their days on sea, weathering a storm was commonplace. Soldiers from the capital were resting beneath the deck, away from the downpour. Eildred could feel the clothes beneath his black Queen''s Guard armor grow wet. He welcomed it. The southern air was much too warm for a fully armored knight.

    "Captain! The winds are growing stronger," a crewmember said. "We should be arriving at Kovar faster than anticipated."

    Theodore nodded at the report. He looked up at the sky and frowned. "I hate storms," was all he said. The rain came to an eventual stop but the thunder continued to rumble above.

    "Won''t the wild winds push us off course?" Eildred asked, spreading his legs to hold balance.

    "No. They aren''t quite strong enough to displace vessels as large as these. If it picks up any further, then it may require some finesse and maneuvering." Theodore rinsed the rain water out of his hair. He had a frown set on his face. For a sailor, he didn''t seem to be very fond of water.

    Large waves were crashing against the sides of the vessel, spraying water onto the deck. Eildred glanced back at the following fleet. They were managing just fine. Though, with the way they tipped up and back with each conquered wave set his heart racing. Losing vessels as great as these, and the men inside them, would be a terrible tragedy.

    Theodore clicked his tongue and began heading below deck once more. An onslaught of shouts and cries stopped him in his tracks.

    "Man overboard! Man overboard!"

    The fleet admiral rushed to the edge of the ship and peered into the dark waters. Eildred started after him. Whoever had fallen was surely lost. The skies were dark and the waters too wild. The ship tilted as it rose above a large wave. Eildred lost his balance and found himself being quickly forced to the edge of the ship himself. Theodore noticed him in time and pushed him back as hard as he could. "Idiot man! Why in Burning Seas are you wearing a full suit of armor on a Flaming ship?" he cried.

    Eildred couldn''t come up with a valid response. The question hadn¡¯t come up until now. Theodore stripped himself of his coat and shirt and dove headfirst into the waters. Eildred could only watch with his mouth agape, standing a safe distance from the ship''s edge. Crewmembers of The Salamander cried out. Hardly any of them dared get close to the edge. Those that did peered into the waters and complained about seeing nothing. Every passing second felt unbelievably long. Eildred found himself panicking for the first time in his life. He had no experience in naval combat. Without Lord Coraine, command of the fleet would fall to him and he''d have no choice but to order a retreat. He feared disappointing the queen. Feared breaking the silent promise he''d made with Tilda before setting out. "Come back. Damn madman. Flaming hurry up and come back!"

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "I see them!" someone cried.

    Eildred resisted the urge to move to the edge of the ship. "Throw them a line!" he barked. The crew had already thrown a line before the order was given. Eildred spotted Theodore bobbing up and down with the rising waves, struggling to grab the rope as he held on to the sailor that had fallen over. He wasn''t powerfully built. It was a miracle that he could even swim while holding another man in this weather. He managed to grab hold of the line with his free hand. The sailors began pulling them up, Eildred lending a helping hand. "And you called me an idiot?" he said when the Theodore was back on deck. The other man with him was unconscious. Someone pressed down on his chest a couple of times and he coughed up water.

    Theodore glanced at the man, water dripping from the tip of his nose and strands of his hair. He spat out a mash of seawater and phlegm before breathing a sigh of relief.

    "Are you insane?" Eildred asked. "Everything would have been for naught if you died!"

    "But I didn¡¯t die. That''s all that matters." Theodore pushed his long hair away from his eyes. Someone handed him a towel and he began drying himself. No one was questioning his actions. As if everyone accepted this as a normal occurrence. They all looked upon the man in admiration.

    "There is a difference between bravery and recklessness."

    "I agree."

    Eildred sighed. Had he not seen the incident with his own eyes, he likely would not have believed it. Theodore was no daredevil. He was a responsible man acting within the limits of his powers. He believed himself capable of saving the fallen sailor. He had enough courage to dive into the water. And he had a heart of gold that he did his best to hide. His actions had also bolstered the morale of everyone on the ship. "I knew it all along. You never insulted her majesty that night. It was a servant of yours. And you covered for him, knowing that any potential reprimand would be greater for the servant than for the young master of a High House. You can''t ¡ªno. You won''t abandon anyone. That''s just who you are."

    Theodore laughed with a rasped voice. There was more phlegm caught in his throat. "You knew it all along. And yet you still bludgeoned me for it. How kind of you."

    "How kind indeed! My quick actions saved you from anything more taxing. Who knows what Madrivall would have done to you if you weren''t already lying on the ground with a bloodied nose. I imagine any man would be beyond upset if their bride was crying on their wedding night."

    "Mhm. And how long have you been in love with her for, eh?" asked Theodore. Eildred found his gaze set before his boots again. The admiral smirked. "Madrivall wouldn''t have done much worse than you. I was bedridden for Flames knows how many days after that incident." Theodore put his clothes back on. He looked through a spyglass, making sure the other Xenarian warships were still following from a measured distance.

    "Ships!" a watcher cried from atop the main mast. "Ships on the horizon. Five on the right. And¡­ a single ship from the left."

    Theodore closed his fists. "Mm. On time, I suppose."

    Eildred narrowed his eyes. "On time?"

    "I expected us to arrive here at some time during the noon."

    Eildred looked around, wondering where ''here'' was. He could only see a vast expanse of blue all around them.

    "I know these waters like the back of my own hand," Theodore said, sensing a question. "Where you see nothing, I see landmarks. I spent my entire life mapping the Aegis Basin. Wind currents in this area tend to be more mellow than normal. Makes it a less volatile battleground, though, these storm whipped waves will persist for a while yet. Shouldn''t be a problem for my ships. Still, Dhorjun can''t be underestimated. He seems to know these waters pretty well himself." Theodore sniffed. He chewed on his tongue with twisted lips. A look of regret. "Or maybe it''s someone else of talent reading these waters," he muttered.

    "Are you sure sending half of the fleet is a wise decision?" Eildred asked.

    "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Battles are unpredictable. You of all people should know that. I know they don''t have ships to match mine, or a fleet as mighty either. Tarmia has a minor fleet at Ostirin, but I''ve heard nothing of them allying with the pirates. My captains are skilled enough to deal with this minor surprise. There shouldn''t be any more surprise attacks. Eurale doesn''t have any more combat ships and merchant vessels aren''t equipped for battles. I''ll be boarding a different ship and flanking around Kovar with some extra soldiers. Son of a bitch probably expects to stall us at sea while he prepares some nefarious ploy for when we land. I''m going to catch him unawares. You head the frontal assault. Dhorjun won''t come out with what one or two ships he has remaining. A battle on land will be more your area of expertise."

    Eildred couldn''t disagree. But he had a bad feeling. "I promised your wife¡ª"

    "And I will," Theodore replied before Eildred had even finished his sentence. "Look alive, Thundersword. We''ve got thousands of soldiers. We''ll recapture the island and you can go back and deliver the good news to your beloved queen."

    Eildred grunted. The Salamander slowed until another Xenarian vessel caught up to her. Theodore, followed by most soldiers on The Salamander, boarded the second ship and sailed off to the side. Eildred wasn''t overly fond of being the only commanding officer aboard the flagship. But he trusted the High Lord''s judgement.

    The afternoon wore on. A small spec appeared in the distance. It slowly grew larger. Eildred looked through a spyglass of his own to see the harbors of the island town. Multiple smaller vessels were docked at its port. Most of them waving black flags with three rend like marks at the peak of their masts. Captured merchant vessels. The pirates truly didn''t plan to fight at sea. Eildred still couldn''t rid himself of the ill notion looming in his thoughts like an itching wound. He never failed to act on his instincts. It had saved his life many times. But here on open waters, he wasn''t quite certain where his feelings were stemming from. Kovar had no defensive fortifications that could stop the coming warships. Nor did the pirates have the numbers to match the Xenarian soldiers unless Dhorjun was being sponsored by the kingdoms of the Illeyan Alliance, though such information would not have slipped passed Theodore.

    "Ship! Enemy vessel from the left!" a sailor cried out.

    Eildred''s head jerked to the side as other sailors rushed to see whom it was. The Xenarians couldn''t afford a naval battle without their admiral. He looked through the spyglass to see a single vessel approaching them. It had a similar black flag to other pirate ships, though with a red serpent rather than three rends. He breathed easy for a moment. It was only one ship. One that was less than half the size of each Xenarian vessel. Its design was sleek, two main masts with sails wider than the vessel itself and another mast near the front with triangular sails. A ship built for speed.

    Eildred was certain the experienced fleet would be capable of dealing with it. It was also still a ways off, though closing the distance rapidly. So long as the Xenarian fleet managed to dock on the harbors, the battle would be as good as won.

    Or so he thought.

    He peered through the spyglass wondering what had happened to the five vessels Theodore had sent in response. The spyglass slipped from his fingers. His lips parted and for the first time in his life, his armor seemed to constrain him, seemed to suffocate his chest to the point where breathing became difficult. Is this¡­ fear?

    The sailors of Qalydon were muttering amongst themselves, their hushed voices akin to waves sloshing against The Salamander''s side. Some of them gripped the hilts of their cutlasses, seeking comfort behind the defense of a weapon. It took everyone a few long, hard breaths before they finally started moving, deckhands taking their position near ropes, ready to maneuver the sails to adjust speeds if need be. Others stationed themselves near the massive ballistae at the ship''s side.

    Eildred picked up the spyglass again. He checked the other eight ships entrusted to him. They were all preparing for battle. The remaining soldiers of the capital resting below deck were called up and made to form ranks. Eildred steadied his breath, surprised at how quick the pirate vessel moved. He touched his chest, feeling the vibrations of his pounding heart through his thick breastplate, then peered behind the approaching enemy again.

    All five massive warships sent to it had been damaged to the point of sinking. Hundreds of Xenarian soldiers were left at the mercy of the high seas.

    ***

    Theodore clutched the hilts of both of his cutlasses as his ship approached the rocky shores of Kovar. Betrayals were what he hated most. He was a man willing to bleed for his friends and subordinates. He was seething with anger. Dhorjun was a man he''d exchanged drinks with. Never trusted him. But still shared drinks with the bastard. He wondered what madness drove the Fang of Euryale to piracy. Whatever it was, the man would pay. This was more than personal. Theo hadn''t told the full story to Eildred. It wasn''t that he didn''t want to deal with the pirates. He simply couldn''t.

    The occasional pirate raids happened. It was minor. Nothing to worry about. They hardly hindered business. Dhorjun had promised to deal with them. Theo thought nothing of it, believing them to hardly be a threat. Instead of dealing with them, the Fang let them roam free. He manipulated them from the shadows and controlled their actions. I simply didn''t expect enough of the unexpected.

    The Black Fanged Reaver knew every trade route there was to know. It was best to assume he had access to the best quality of sea charts with Eksa serving under him. Even if Dhorjun had more meat in his skull than brains, he had Crow as his second, and now Eksa as well. It made sense that Theo''s captains couldn''t form an effective response to the attack on Kovar. They were fine men. But a gap in talent is not one easily closed. Flames! I should have paid for her. I should have bought the girl when I had the chance!

    Theo had many friends in Kovar. Had. Most of them were gone. The island town had a relatively small population in comparison to Xenarian cities. Less than half of Kovar had managed to escape to Qalydon. The rest, the raiders had either slain or captured to sell. And Theo couldn''t imagine slaves being sold to Eurale when Dhorjun had sacked its ports. And slaves elsewhere aren''t treated as well as they are in Eurale.

    The ship anchored close to the shores just as lightning flashed in the still grey sky. Hundreds of Xenarians marched down the gangplank and formed ranks on the shores, lightly armored soldiers of the capital at the front and Qalydon''s sailors at the rear. Each man held plain and hardened glares, their loyalty to the nation showing from their straight backs and closed hands.

    Theo knew he could put his faith in them. It didn''t matter though. He was expecting the fight to be one sided. The pirates would have their attention focused on the larger fleet approaching the town''s harbor. Something they didn''t have the power of contending with. Theo half expected them to have already run away, leaving Kovar emptied. Or not. Expect the unexpected. He glanced back. No need to hesitate. If for whatever reason enemy numbers exceeded what they should, he could retreat back to the ship.

    The Xenarians marched further inland once everyone had disembarked the ship. Few sailors remained to stand watch. Crows flapped and cawed not far from the ground. They circled over the ruined town, no doubt feasting on what rotting remnants were left at their mercy. Theo drew both his cutlasses and gripped them as tight as he could, his knuckles going white. His temper rose with each step, with each and every breath. "Where are you? Where are you, you Scorched bastard?" he muttered.

    Warning horns from the ship behind the Xenarians stole everyone''s attention. Theo turned around. His eyes went wide in horror. The ship they''d left anchored at the rocky shores was now surrounded by a few smaller vessels. Sailors aboard were calling for aid. It was already too late. Theo could hear the sharp sounds of cracking of wood from where he stood. The warship was a sitting duck. Its outer shell was being punctured by the ballistae of the pirate vessels surrounding it. Now riddled with holes, little by little, it began to sink. The remaining sailors disembarked and joined the rest of the Xenarians.

    Theo seethed. One of his beloved and expensive warships so easily downed. From such a simple trap as well. The retreat path was cut off. "Everyone, stay alert!" he called. "We''ve been had. But we still outnumber them and have them in a pincer." He hadn''t even finished speaking when cries of pain and surprise ran through his army. The pirates had archers hidden behind large boulders, all of them using the infamous recurve bows favoured by the armies of desert dwellers. Theo caught sight of a blur whizzing straight for him. His hand moved before his mind could react, deflecting the arrow with his cutlass. He clenched his teeth as he saw a large man crest the top of a hill about a hundred meters away from him.

    Dhorjun was as tall as Eildred, but had far more bulk to his arms and chest. His black hair, shoulder length, and half of his face covered in a thick beard, making it appear as if he was a black maned lion. In his hands was a thick wooden cudgel with iron spikes protruding from the ends. Theo could feel the skin upon his face pressing in folds. He could mask his hatred no longer. He could see the pirate''s triumphant smile from where he stood. Dhorjun believed himself the victor.

    That wasn''t possible. Eildred should have landed on the harbors of the town already. Unless he hadn''t¡­? What is it? What am I not expecting? What did I fail to see? Their time should''ve been nearing its end. Yet that triumphant smile¡­ Theo finally understood. They were pirates. Conquest wasn''t their goal. They''d spin a loss into a victory because they were the underdogs. The target wasn''t Kovar. The target was himself. Without Theodore, supremacy of the seas belonged to Dhorjun.

    The Xenarians were surrounded. Once Theo was dead, the Black Fanged Reaver would make his escape out to sea. "That''s assuming you can kill me, you rat!"

    The Xenarians managed to get their shields up. The peppering of arrows was no longer damaging them. Only a few casualties were sustained. Theo looked upon the uneven ground that lay before him. Unstable footing. The soldiers behind him would struggle to fight on rocky terrain. But he was a seaman. To be a sailor was to live on unstable footing. A landscape he thrived upon. Theo took it upon himself to lead the charge. He would be the fire the Xenarians needed to escape this deadly trap. And they were already left without a means of retreating backwards. Cornered men were men that fought the hardest. They had nothing left to lose. Because the only path out was the path forward. But before he even gave the order to charge, Dhorjun outstretched his arm. Hundreds of pirates crested the hill and descended upon the Xenarians as a tide descends upon the rocks.

    No.

    More like ants crawling down a hill.

    The enemy had recruited a diverse cast of fighters; Empire deserters wearing the imperial armbands with a red hand, Xenarian bandits wearing scraps of armor, traitorous Euralite soldiers still wearing kingdom armor, and Mahjur mercenaries with bare torsos and curved shamshirs.

    "They say the Thundersword is Xenaria''s greatest swordsman," Theo began, raising his voice. "They say he is peerless, that none in Illusterra can top him. I''ll be damned if those words aren''t a challenge to my pride! For I am a sailor! I am a romanticist. And every romanticist dreams of being the best! Behold, my Xenarian brothers! This is what it means to be the best. Stare at my back and step forward no matter the cost. Know my name, pirate scum! Know the name of the man that will send you to the afterlife. Theodore Coraine! Theodore Twin Crescent! I am Xenaria''s greatest swordsman!" he declared as he twirled the two cutlasses in his hands.

    A fierce roar behind him set his heart alight. He rushed out to meet his foes, long coat billowing in the wind like a knight''s glorious cape. The ground quaked in fear as blades and men clashed, screamed, and killed, splattering blood and spilling gore.

    Theo danced between his enemies, ducking and spinning to dodge fatal blows as his arms moved in tandem to dispatch limbs and heads left unguarded. He lunged in small bursts, balancing himself upon sharp rocks for a split second, slicing with his blades, and then lunging again. To him, this was no battle. The crude and ill-mannered movements of the pirates were like child''s play. He was a skilled fighter of talent matching the Thundersword. Talent he never had reason to display, sharp and beautiful dark blades he never had reason to wield, red blood of others he never had reason to spill.

    He deftly stepped with his toes and jumped from one position to the next, never finding himself upon poor footing while forcing his would be opponents to step in unwanted places, causing them to respond from awkward and unbalanced states. Theodore didn¡¯t let a hint of enemy blood stain his clothes. Nor did his heels ever touch the ground. Such was his skill. Short thrust forward. Half a step back. Spinning with outstretched arms and then jumping over a corpse. Brief parry with the left hand and quick slash to the throat with his right. And then a half step back again to avoid the spray of blood.

    Yes. To the Moonlight Sculptor, this was not a fight. This was art. This was skill. This was peak swordsmanship. This was a waltz. One where his partner only managed to keep up the length of time it takes one to blink. A macabre waltz. A one sided massacre. ''My name is Theodore Coraine!'' he shouted in his own head as he severed one belonging to a man in long white garb, staining the cloth around his collar and shoulders with red.

    Dhorjun still stood at the apex of the hill, grinning with confidence. He was growing in size with every step Theodore took towards him. The Xenarians were holding their ground, but that was only because their leader was managing to cull the pirate numbers all on his own. "Keep smiling!" Theo howled. "I''ll be right up there to rip it off!"

    He continued on his way up the hill, hardly struggling to ascend despite being at an obvious disadvantage. He sidestepped a shamshir and tripped a man, sending him tumbling down towards the Xenarian soldiers. More and more enemies came at Theo. He hardly needed to fight back. While going uphill was slow, the pirates going downhill had bad balance and couldn''t land any strikes on the dancing sailor. He dodged out of every blow and gave each adversary a shove. All of them fell down, heads being split apart by the sharp rocks. Any that survived were dispatched by the slow ascending Xenarians.

    Theo had just about reached the summit of the hill. A pirate wearing imperial colors leapt towards him with sword arm raised. Theo screamed as he lunged forward with every ounce of strength his legs could muster. He severed the man''s arm before the pirate could bring down his sword. Theo then spun and slashed at his enemy''s throat before he tumbled down, ensuring that he was dead. There was now nothing left between the Xenarian admiral and the Black Fanged Reaver.

    Nothing save for an ugly and thick cudgel that Theo barely noticed in time to block.

    Dhorjun had moved into Theo''s blind spot when he''d spun, and swung the barbaric weapon with both hands. Theo was forced to bring both cutlasses up to parry the attack. He hadn''t yet crested to the hill top and the Dhorjun''s thick arms carried too much weight to bear. Theo saw the world tilt as he fell backwards. He briefly saw more pirates coming down from the rocky shores. The same pirates that had cut off their escape route had now gotten on land. They were on the verge of catching the Xenarian soldiers unawares. Theo''s men had followed him without thinking to look back. He opened his mouth to cry out a warning. A whimper escaped instead, followed by the briefest of gasps. The back of his head struck the ground.

    That was where his memory ended.

 Chapter 61: A King Without (Book 2, Chapter 24)

    <u>Chapter 24 - A King Without</u>

    The air was heavy with the stench of blood. Theo crinkled his nose as his eyes opened. His head throbbed from every side. He tried squinting and failed with one eye. Dried blood at the side of his head had robbed his skin of its flexibility. He pushed himself off the ground and spat out a mixture of phlegm and blood. Mostly blood. A sharp ache in his shoulder told him that it was dislocated. He grit his teeth and snapped it back into place.

    The sky glowed with the amber hue of late evening. Theo coughed as he sat up on his knees, taking in the scene around him. Parts of his body pulsed with pain. He wondered how many bones were fractured. Or broken. How many days he''d have to spend bedridden again once he returned to Qalydon. If I return. Hundreds of dead pirates and Xenarians lay all around him. The rocky shores opposite the town of Kovar had been stained red. The battle was over. And it was lost. Many of the Silver Serpents were still about, rummaging torn clothes for valuables. Their leader was among the ones alive.

    Dhorjun stared at Theo curiously from his position away from the corpse ridden rock bed. It isn''t over until I''m dead, Theo thought. He clenched his fists, expecting them to tighten around the hilt of his cutlasses. They just curled into a ball. His hazy vision desperately searched the field for a pair of swords. He wasn''t sure he was even capable of wielding them anymore. He just knew that he needed to. He needed to stand once more. For Qalydon. For Xenaria. For Tilda and Trauvel. Where was Eildred?

    Theo found a single cutlass. Not his own. It lay in the hand of a severed arm. One of the pirates. He crawled towards the body on all fours, knowing how pitiful he must have looked. Movement at the edge of his vision told him that Dhorjun was walking towards him, cudgel in hand. Theo could barely feel his own heartbeat. He didn''t fear or panic. Or perhaps he was too weak to feel or do either. Regardless, he pried free the cutlass and stood up with shaky legs, violent aches clawing at many points. He took a step forward and raised his arm towards Dhorjun. The pirate flicked the weapon aside with his own and struck Theo with a massive fist. He fell back. The world around him spun. His head throbbed even harder.

    "Stay down, Theodore," Dhorjun boomed, his deep voice like a crash of thunder too close for comfort.

    Theo blinked away the fog in his eyes. He looked at the spiked cudgel in Dhorjun''s hand. It didn''t even look damaged, let alone stained with blood. The Black Fanged Reaver had won the battle without having to lift a finger. Without having to participate. The coward! Theo felt his face grow hot. Once more, he stood up, knees buckling like a newborn fawn. Dhorjun looked at him in pity. Flames burn you! Don''t you look at me like that! Don''t you dare look at me as if you regret your actions!

    "I told you he''d come here, did I not?" another man said as he came to stand beside the black maned pirate.

    A bald man with a thin goatee and a long brown coat. Hawthorne, Dhorjun''s quartermaster. Or Crow as he was better known. He was nicknamed the Man with a Hundred Plans. A conniving bastard with sharp wit. So it was his trap that the Xenarians had fallen into¡­

    "Yes. You did," Dhorjun said. He stretched out his hand. "Join me, Theodore. It''d be a shame to see a man like yourself wither away so soon."

    Theo opened his mouth but only gurgled sounds came out. He coughed again. His sword arm went up. Dhorjun caught it before it could come down. An underhanded blow was delivered into Theo''s gut. He went limp. He could feel his consciousness fading. For some reason, his heartbeat was clear now. It beat against his chest like sailors marching down gangplanks after a long journey. Marching hard and fast to return to their families or jump into brothels. The harbor of Qalydon was so beautiful. Tilda''s irritated but yet relieved expression even prettier.

    Theo blinked. Dhorjun''s hideous black beard brought him back to reality. The sound of his own heart still resounded in the confines of his skull, slowly fading with each beat like an echo bouncing along a lengthy canyon. "Burn you¡­" he breathed.

    "We should get going," Hawthorne said. "Eksa''s bought more time than I expected. But she''s likely sunk by now. A shame. Her ship had some strong young men."

    "You underestimate her, Crow. That girl is as good as they come. Blessed in both mind and body. If anyone''s capable of weaseling their way through multiple warships, it''s her. You underestimated Theodore as well. Look how many dead we have. We''ve lost much of our number."

    Theo''s head sank. Eksa. The factor that seemed to have delayed Eildred enough to end Xenaria''s chance at reclaiming the island. The poor girl, Theo thought. Sold as a slave. Freed by a piece of Flaming trash. And now forced into piracy. What a waste of talent. She probably wasn''t long for the world. Not with these Scorching bastards. A lone girl amidst men like them. How long before they broke her?

    "It matters not," Crow said. "The fall of Admiral Theodore will have many weaker minds flocking to us. The Aegis Basin belongs to us now. Four nations dancing at our feet. I''ll admit. Watching him cut through our men with twin blades made me envious." Crow bent down to meet Theo''s eyes. "But, I''ll bet a thousand gold crowns that you''re envious of my cunning."

    Theo glared at him. Heat returned to his limbs. His heart quickened. He knew it. His life was at an end. Not even a Healer could bring him back. But he''d make his end worth remembering. He wasn''t going to die for nothing. His fingers twitched.

    "Keep on glaring then," Crow continued with a repulsive smirk. "Fat lot of good that¡ª"

    Theo lunged at him. He tackled Hawthorne to the ground while howling. It came out like a ghastly wail. He couldn''t inhale. He had a single breath to get vengeance before death. He heard something snap as he mounted atop his foe. Crow''s eyes went wide. His left knee had broken. The man thrashed about with his arms, trying to force Theo off of him. Theo shrugged everything aside. This was his final struggle. He had but one purpose. He raised his own hands, preparing to beat Hawthorne to death. But his damaged hands refused to make a proper fist. No! Flames no! Not yet Creator! Let me last a little longer!

    Theo grit his teeth. His lungs burned with the desire to suck in air. He brought one hand down and poked into Crow''s left eye. "I''ll take¡­ your eyes," he croaked as he gouged out one eye ball and prepared to take the other. Hawthorne screamed. And Theo heard it, though faintly. He allowed himself to smile.

    A spiked object arced toward the side of his head. Time slowed. He hadn''t enough of it to take Hawthorne''s other eye. But he was satisfied. He had imagined his death differently. He thought he would have been laid to rest in a crypt while his descendants sung songs for him. At least he''d die hearing a song. A song of screams. Dhorjun''s cudgel struck him and he fell back. The right side of his face was smashed in. He lost half of his vision and hearing. But everything else was suddenly clear. The orange sky. The gulls and crows above. The sound of those beautiful screams. Hawthorne was sitting upright, covering his empty eye socket while backing away from Theodore in fear. His intact eye held a glare but his actions and whimpering revealed his true nature.

    Theo''s voice returned to him. "Keep glaring. You sound like a bitch," he said, spending his precious final breath with those words. A rich and expensive sentence, that. Aye, a rich and expensive sentence. I''m sorry Tilda. He''d already spent his words and could only afford her a fleeting thought. His final act was a poor purchase.

    Not exactly a model husband, he thought just as the sky went dark and the spiked cudgel fell upon his face with a horrid crunch.

    ***

    "Hold your fire!" Eildred called. Signal horns blared to notify the other vessels. Every iron bolt fired at the smaller ship missed by narrow margins. It maneuvered through the unstable waters with ease, conquering dangerously high waves while using them to avoid Xenarian ballistae fire. The ship was closing in from the rear. Eildred was at his wits end. He didn''t know what to do. He had no experience in naval combat. "Have three vessels break off and surround that ship. The rest continue to Kovar!" Theodore''s captains can manage, right?

    A series of horns sounded once more as the orders were relayed to the fleet. Three ships broke off as was asked. Eildred prayed for it to be enough. He searched wildly for any sign of other enemies. It was impossible to imagine that a single smaller ship had felled five warships on its own.

    He kept watch on the situation unfolding behind him. The three Xenarian vessels easily surrounded the shorter pirate ship. Too easily. It happened too quickly. The warships were too tall to aim their ballistae at their adversary. They had to stay a measured distance away to make sure the ranged weapons would hit.

    The black flagged ship cozied up to one of the warships. It used its own ballistae to riddle its adversary with holes before moving on the next Xenarian vessel. The other Xenarians couldn''t return fire. It was already hard to aim at a shorter vessel. And the pirates made the threat of friendly fire very real by staying so close to their target enemy. One by one, all three warships were outmaneuvered and beaten. Their pace slowed as they began filling up with water and slowly sinking. The pirate ship came out with minor holes in their sails.

    This can''t be happening. The soldiers aboard his ship stared at the scene in awe while the sailors from Qalydon looked to their highest commanding officer for further instructions. He had six ships remaining out of the nine Theodore had entrusted him with. Warships were hard to build. And expensive. More so given the sheer amount House Coraine had spent to build such a powerful and well equipped fleet. Something that had backfired terribly. No one should have been fool enough to challenge these vessels with a ship less than half the size. And yet, these pirates were making it work, using size to their advantage. Our ballistae can''t be maneuvered into aiming at that vessel''s frame¡­

    A design flaw caused by hubris. Artillery might have been placed below deck to counteract the flaw, but who would oppose such vessels? You didn''t imagine the unexpected, Theo, and neither did your builders it seems.

    Eildred had a decision to make. One that he couldn''t make lightly. Dahlia had entrusted him with the reclamation of Kovar. Theodore had entrusted him to destroy the pirates. And every man aboard the remaining six ships trusted him to make the appropriate decision. The decision that would lead to them seeing the sun rise the next day. The decision that would allow them to live and return home to whoever''s loving arms. He closed his eyes, seeing the waving handkerchiefs lined up before Qalydon''s harbor. Retreat? He heard Tilda''s request. Retreat means abandoning Lord Coraine¡­

    Eildred curled his fists into a ball and sighed aloud. "Send two vessels to Kovar''s rear to call and escort Admiral Theodore back to Qalydon. The rest of us are turning around. We''re retreating! Avoid that small ship at all costs!"

    Horns relayed the orders. Two ships broke off from the formation while the other four turned around. No one complained. The sailors were upset. Their broken pride was written all over there clenched fists and quivering lips. The soldiers were anxious, each one shuffling within their ranks and fumbling with their weapon hilts, wondering whether they would fight, or sink before even having the chance.

    "Head towards the sinking vessels," Eildred ordered. His muscles stiffened with the thought of facing those he''d promised. For the first time, the Thundersword tasted defeat in a battle. What would he tell Tilda if Theodore didn''t return? What would he tell Dahlia when he returned a failure and only added to the stress she was already suffering from? "We''ll pull up as many survivors as we can! Load the artillery. Zone the pirates away from us."

    Eildred glared at the scarlet serpent on the black flag. He swore vengeance under his breath. He hoped a stray bolt would catch the ship in its side and sink it before his eyes at that very moment. To his surprise, the pirates actively avoided the retreating Xenarians. It made sense. A single small ship. Their purpose was to keep the Xenarians away from Kovar and they''d succeeded. They had no reason to engage any further.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Men aboard the sinking warships cried for aid. Eildred assigned three of the retreating vessels to aid three of the sinking ones while The Salamander acted as a rearguard. It was the most he could do.

    Cracks began appearing within the shrouded ceiling. Clouds moved along towards the west and the skies were filled with the glow of an evening sun. Eildred kept his chin up. There''d be another opportunity. As long as everyone left standing made it back to land safely, another opportunity would come. Once the Trillian threat was dealt with, the Aegis Basin could be reclaimed. After that, Xenaria would finally focus her full attention towards the Tarmian Empire. "Another opportunity," he muttered. Thousands have already perished. For the first time ever, his dauntless armor felt heavy and useless, like it belonged in a circus than on a battlefield. They made a mockery of me and the Xenarian fleet.

    "Sir Aegis! The pirates! They¡¯re coming back!"

    Eildred whipped around. The small vessel was returning. The Xenarians were still in the middle of rescuing their sinking allies. They were immobile and vulnerable. The soldiers hurried to fire the artillery. They were unpracticed and, in their panic, fumbled their aim. Every bolt went wide of its target. The pirates closed in, cozying up to the Salamander''s side. Soldiers and sailors alike backed away from the edge of the ship. All stood mute, eyes wide and mouths open. They waited for the inevitable. For the sounds of iron bolts puncturing through the wood of their ship. Not a single thing could be done.

    "Stand firm!" Eildred howled, trying his best to restore morale. He wouldn''t let everything end so easily. He unstrapped his heavy Queen''s Guard armor and mentally prepared to jump down to the enemy vessel, hoping to slay as many as fate would allow. Hoping the soldiers would follow after him. With any luck, they might fell the pirates and turn their attention towards Kovar once more with the three remaining warships.

    For whatever reason, the pirates were not firing. Eildred had finished shedding his armor and marched to the edge of the deck. He paused. Hooks had been thrown over the side. No one had noticed it in their panic. The sea bandits were trying to board The Salamander. One by one, they came over the edge. They''re planning to take the ship for themselves.

    The first person over was a young girl with a head of flame. She looked of similar age to the princess. Eildred hesitated. Honor bade him to reconsider attacking her. That hesitation didn''t go unnoticed. The girl ran at him, cutlass in hand, a mixed bag of snarling fighters not far from her heels.

    Eildred was forced to block a quick slash from an improper position. The impact upon his longsword hardly registered. There was no weight behind the attack. The red haired girl glared at him. He forced her back with a single arm and she fell on her rear. Girl or not, she was an enemy of the crown. If they were willingly boarding, then he could kill them here and resume the attack on Kovar.

    Eildred narrowed his eyes as he prepared to thrust his weapon through her chest. Forgive me young one. I don''t know what your circumstances are, but I''ll have you die here.

    A blur whizzed toward his side. Eildred raised his sword, barely deflecting a knife thrown his way. Had he not stripped himself of his armor, a knife would merely have bounced off of him. He rolled up the sleeves of his plain shirt before taking a proper stance.

    The girl was pulled up by a dark haired boy of similar age. He wore a long dark coat that seemed an inch or two too large for him. He forced her behind him and stared down Eildred. In his hand was a single edged blade with spikes running down its spine. "What madness has driven children to piracy?" Eildred said, lunging toward his opponent.

    "As if you''d ever understand!" the boy replied.

    Their weapons clashed with equal force. Eildred was shocked. The boy had a smaller frame, was a half head shorter, and was using a single handed weapon. Yet he didn''t back down a single inch. He struck with equal speed and strength. No. Greater speed and strength. I''m being pushed back? Eildred glanced at the boy''s arm. The veins in his sword hand wrist bulged unnaturally. His blade was some manner of a magical Artifact.

    It didn''t matter. Even if the boy was stronger, he was not as experienced. His skills were crude. Eildred deftly stepped to the boy''s side and swung using both hands. The attack was slow, easily parried, but the force behind it made the boy to stagger back several feet. Eildred''s hand flashed forward. He was named the Thundersword. Most people assumed the name to have stemmed from his absurd strength. But no. That name came from a skill used to fell many a man on a battlefield. A blinding thrust that he only ever used when meaning to kill quickly. The thrust was aimed at the dark haired boy''s exposed neck. There was fear in his greyish eyes. He knew he wouldn''t avoid it.

    "Aaron!" the flame haired girl called.

    Eildred''s flickering gaze caught a glimpse of her running towards him. She was too far to reach him. His thrust reached its full length and¡­ missed? He found himself on the ground on one knee. Someone had tripped him. Someone he''d failed to notice. He caught a glimpse of a man dressed in black with a black cloth covering his face. It couldn''t be¡­ A Shadow Walker?

    He didn''t have time to think. The flame haired girl aimed to cleave his neck in two. He kicked her legs and caused her to fall on top of him with a grunt. Eildred pushed her off and got back on his feet, staring down the three enemies before him. The situation didn''t bode well for the Xenarians. They were getting pushed back. The ship rocked with the waves, making the soldiers stumble. They weren''t used to fighting on open waters. Eildred himself had to take a wider stance to keep his stability. Three on one. Betting odds on any other field against any other enemy. These opponents, children though they were, had Artifacts and a Shadow Walker amongst them. Another knife was thrown towards him from his right. He ducked beneath it. It had come from a blond man wearing a jester''s mask. Eildred clicked his tongue, feeling slightly more threatened now. Four on one.

    "You are a knight, yes?" the boy named Aaron asked.

    Strange question for a pirate. "Eildred Aegis. Captain of the Queen''s Guard."

    "Queen''s Guard¡­ How ironic. You three stay out of this," Aaron said. "He''s mine."

    Eildred''s eyes narrowed. Most of the pirates had already boarded The Salamander. The soldiers once outnumbered them more than two to one. But those numbers were more or less even now. Bad footing coupled with fear had been their downfall. Blood flowed upon the wooden boards of the deck. Bodies littered it as piles of dregs left unattended.

    Odd as it was, the children before Eildred seemed to be the leaders of the sea faring raiders. "Boy. You can''t beat me on your own," Eildred taunted. A duel, as dishonorable as it was against an untrained child, would be in his favor. He could make quick work of his enemies that way. Baiting the lad into getting emotional was the fastest path to victory.

    Aaron laughed in what appeared as sarcasm. "Is this what you call a knight''s honor?" He charged towards Eildred. He swung in a wide arc, leaving himself open to retaliation. Eildred let it happen, holding his ground and parrying the blow. A violent clang of metals resounded. Eildred grit his teeth and staggered back, muscles vibrating from the increased strength of the blow. "Your honor died when my mother died!" Aaron cried. He continued with his wide armed swings, each one heavier and faster than the last. "How about now, Sir Aegis? Am I worth fighting alone now?"

    "No," Eildred hissed as he stepped in and grabbed Aaron by the side of his head with his thick hand and shoved him to the floorboards. Eildred meant to follow up. He was going to put an end to this delirious child. One that had no doubt somehow been hurt by Xenarians. But his allies all charged at the same time. The blond one threw knives at him while cackling like a mad man. The black clothed one disappeared into the shadows. The flame haired girl screamed while running straight at him again like an angered boar. Eildred deflected a knife while dodging two others. He kicked the girl in the gut and then spun around to attack the Shadow Walker that reappeared behind him.

    Aaron had gotten up again, his eyes burning with hate. He lunged forward, thrusting his weapon at Eildred''s chest. The armorless knight side stepped the attack and delivered an elbow to the boy''s jaw, putting him back on the ground. As if you''d catch me with my own signature move.

    The blond one leapt towards him with a raised fist. Eildred brought his sword hand up to retaliate. The fist struck him first and he staggered back, astonished at the strength of a mere fist. The Shadow Walker jumped out of the shadows again, this time wielding two blades and thrusting upwards. Eildred roared as he deflected them with his own sword, wielding the great blade with one arm only and using his free hand to deliver an underhanded blow straight at the Shadow Walker''s solar plexus, forcing him to fall on his knees and gasp for breath. The blond man was preparing to strike again and Eildred was ready for it. He grunted and went down on one knee as something sharp pierced his thick thigh. The flame haired girl had stabbed him with her thin cutlass. Even then, the Thundersword could not be felled. He ducked under the masked man''s wide armed swing, dropping his sword in the process. The masked blond continued to cackle. Eildred lunged towards him, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, and picked the man up before tossing him into the girl, sending them both tumbling.

    Eildred''s heart pounded against his chest. His breaths were quick and heavy. Youthful vigor filled him as adrenaline flooded his veins. Despite the dire situation, he was finding a certain thrill within this battle. A thrill he''d always longed for. The kind that came from being pushed to the utmost limit of his abilities. Though fighting against four, he felt as if for once he were standing on equal grounds.

    The boy named Aaron was back on his feet. Eildred, now unarmed, prepared for the inevitable rush. Instead, Aaron threw his sword. Eildred flinched, unable to react to the blinding speed of the throw. The blade went wide but it was enough of a distraction. Aaron quickly closed the distance between them and stopped just a few feet short of his target, delivering a low kick to the wound on the knight''s leg, forcing him down on one knee.

    "That''s a more fitting position for you," Aaron said. He formed a fist and struck Eildred''s jaw.

    Eildred fell on his back, head bouncing against the wood of the deck. White light flashed before his eyes. He felt blood roll down his nose. Instinct took hold of him and he roared, flailing his arms and rising up again. Aaron kicked him back down. The Shadow Walker retrieved Aaron''s sword for him. He held its tip at Eildred''s throat. "You''ve lost, Sir Aegis. Your honor is more dead than it had been before."

    Eildred looked around. The battle was lost. Most of the soldiers were either dead, or thrown overboard. The sailors, gathered around in a tight circle, were held hostage alongside a few disarmed soldiers. His heart still pounded. Energy still coursed through him despite the growing ache in his head. Concussion?

    There, lying on his back, a hundred thoughts swirled through his mind. Most impactful of all was his failure. What good was a thrilling battle if you lost in the end? Especially one where losing mattered. One where losing would mean losing permanently, would mean failing every man that had trusted him to guide them, every wife, sister, and mother that had trusted him to return their loved ones home. Would mean failing Dahlia. His honor truly was dead. Forgive me, your Majesty.

    "Bet Dhorjun and Crow are going to be real shocked when we bring back The Salamander of all ships," the girl said, huffing.

    The dark haired boy stood still. His blade inched closer to Eildred''s throat. It pierced skin and drew blood. "No¡­" he said in a tone of resignation. Aaron pulled his sword away. He sheathed the blade and turned around. "We''re leaving."

    "What?!" the girl cried. "Are you mad? We need this ship. I want this ship!" she said, shaking her fists and stomping on the deck like an ill-mannered child.

    "I said no!"

    "And what gives you the right? I''m the Flaming captain of the Scarlet Reaver. We''re taking this ship and that''s final!" the girl said. "We deserve a proper reward after all our victories today!"

    "Our victory over their entire navy is reward enough!" Aaron said.

    "Not hearing it. If you won''t kill him, I will," the girl declared. She marched towards Eildred, hardly soiled cutlass in hand. Only its tip had tasted blood when piercing Eildred''s thigh. The jester stepped in between her. "Move!" she demanded. "Flaming move!" She shoved him as hard as she could. Eildred looked around. The pirates bore confused frowns seeing their captain struggle with their own.

    "Eksa," Aaron said calmly. "We''re leaving. Let''s go."

    The girl screamed and stomped off. She ordered a retreat and returned to her own ship via the hooked rope. The surviving Xenarians breathed sighs of relief and muttered amongst each other.

    Only the dark haired boy, and the jester remained from among the pirates. The Shadow Walker was missing, likely hiding again. Eildred got back on his feet. He remained cautious, shifting his feet to take a ready stance, though unarmed. His sword lay a few feet away. The few standing soldiers looked to him for orders. "Why bother for a return attack if you aren''t going to take the ship?" Eildred asked.

    Aaron sighed again, eyes fixed upon the deep orange horizon. "I don''t know. I guess we were going to take the ship."

    "And something changed your mind?"

    "I don¡¯t know," he repeated.

    Eildred wondered if it was right to press further or to just let them leave. "Why not just sink us then?" he asked, curiosity winning out. He wanted to know this boy''s circumstance. Wanted to know how children like him descended into a life of malice. Was he an unfortunate orphan from the capital''s Impoverished District? Or perhaps a villager whose family was abused by local lords? Whatever the case, he didn''t seem a lost cause. He had mercy and kindness left within him yet. Eildred was living proof of that.

    "We ran out of ammunition," Aaron said. "Had you continued to chase us instead of calling for a retreat, you would have won, Sir Aegis." He met Eildred''s eyes. "Go home, Son of Xenaria." He began walking away.

    "Boy¡­ Who are you really?" Aaron paused. He turned around Flames dancing in his eyes. Not a reflection of light. The sunset was behind him. Literal amber flames danced within the dark of his eyes.

    "I am your king," came the reply.

    Every word was said with a regal authority. A heavy breeze caused Aaron''s short dark hair and coat to gently sway. He was a living portrait. A figure destined for greatness, but imprisoned within the confines of his own overwhelming shadow. Flames in his eyes. Air of authority. Shadow Walkers and other beings of absurd power and strength following after him¡­

    The deranged ramblings during their brief bout made sense at last. What stood before Eildred was a Flame Bearer, a prince of the old Xenarian Empire. A survivor of High House Zz''tai.

 Chapter 62: If Only (Book 2, Chapter 25)

    <u>Chapter 25 - If Only</u>

    Agrienne''s hair hung before his face. He breathed through his teeth. The smell of alcohol made his nose twitch. Wine stained his trousers and his coat and his shirt in dark blotches. He tapped his heel against the wooden floor, trying to beat away the incessant screams of his own thoughts. Strangely, the pattering of wine drops spilt across the red oak table and dripping to the floor sounded louder than anything else. It drove him mad.

    Agrienne snatched at the bottle laying on its side and brought the tip to his mouth, downing what little of it remained. He slammed the bottle down on the table, sharp cracks appearing in the glass. Lamp light reflected off its dark and glossy surface, revealing shadowy figures of the Whitefire inn''s dimly lit common room. One of the finest inns in the capital he was told. He''d rented it out all for himself.

    It was a Flaming slob.

    Tables here and there, some on their sides, others upside down and cracked. Not a single chair upright save for the one Agrienne sat on, every cushioned seat torn as if claws had raked their surface. Shards of broken glass and wood lay scattered. Paintings on the wall had either fallen or were tilted. And standing in a dark corner was the fat bald innkeeper and his three thin and flat daughters ¡ªall of them with blonde hair and wearing cheap sky blue tunics and skirts, the eldest likely barely reaching her later teens.

    They stood there ¡ªjust Flaming stood there, huddled in the corner, moaning, muttering, whispering, as if there wasn''t a filthy room to clean up. "Shut up!" Agrienne demanded, throwing the bottle in the corner. The girls cried and ducked as the glass struck the wall where their heads had been not a second before, shattering and spilling shards upon their backs and before their feet. "I said shut up!"

    Filthy commoners. Filthy inn. Filthy everything. If only Lera were still here, then even a filthy room would become a divine one. Agrienne tugged violently at the laces of his wet shirt. So very suffocating. He roared as he slammed a fist down upon the table, causing the girls to cry out again as their useless father pushed himself further into the corner. The lamps shook and the lights in the room shifted.

    Dead. Dead. Dead.

    It had to be a lie. Just when Agrienne''s servants had finally discovered clues on Lera''s whereabouts, they learned that she was dead. Over seventeen years without her¡­ If only his family had helped him then. If only they hadn''t been such wallowing pieces of Flame Scorched pigs! It¡¯s a lie. It has to be a lie. It was just another woman named Lera. Not my Lera. Just another one. Another Lera who worked in a brothel and had brown hair. Worst of all, she''d been dead for some years yet.

    Agrienne repeated the same comforting sentence in his own head until he came to believe it. Not my Lera. That''s right. His Lera was still out there somewhere. Out there with his son. Or not. Agrienne didn¡¯t care about any child he did or didn''t have. He only cared about her. He only wanted her and the throne. Only wanted to stand atop the world and be acknowledged, revered, and worshipped, rather than just be ''that bastard Caranel''. Stand on top with Lera as his queen. For now, just the throne. For now, seduce Dahlia and then kill her. And then use every Flaming soldier in Xenaria to seek out his Lera. Yes.

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    But how had this other whore named Lera died? They said she''d been killed by Trillian sympathizers. By people who''d labelled her a darkspawn. Lera Zz''tai. What if it really had been his Lera? Why else call a random whore a darkspawn?

    "Ugh," Agrienne groaned. He couldn''t think straight. His head ached as if struck by a sledgehammer. He repeatedly slammed the table until he heard a sharp crack. He needed more drink. Or something sweeter. Agrienne lifted his head and peered through the strands of his mop like hair. His eyes passed over the girls in the corner. Plain and thin. But the eldest. The eldest stood closest to a lamp. She had long blonde hair that just barely seemed brown with the dim lighting and Agrienne''s hazy vision seen through the strands of his own dark hair. "You," he pointed, voice sloppy. "Come here."

    The girl shivered where she stood, her legs quaking like those of a table poorly nailed in and holding too much weight on top. Agrienne stared at her, imprinted his memory of Lera upon her face, and spoke again. "I said come here!" The girl didn''t move. He slammed his fist against the table. The room shook. A hanging painting crashed to the floor. "Someone bring that wench to me now or I''ll have everyone''s head roll!"

    Two of Agrienne''s soldiers who''d been standing guard before the entry to the common room marched forward. Their expressions were grim. Almost apologetic. They reached the corner and grabbed the eldest of the innkeeper''s daughters before dragging her across the room, her brown shoes scraping against the floor as she pleaded incoherently. The soldiers left the girl before their lord and returned to their post. She whimpered before him, hands clutching the length of her tunic.

    Agrienne examined his dessert. Thin, pale, fatless. Nothing to grip. Nothing to enjoy. But his head throbbed. He stood up and gripped the back of the girl''s neck before pressing down on her lips with his own, free hand tugging on the collar of her tunic. The girl froze as if paralyzed, not responding in the slightest to his kiss. Not responding to Agrienne Caranel''s, the most handsome man in Xenaria''s kiss. Angered, he bit her lip hard. She yelped and pulled away, face twisted in fear. Agrienne licked his lips and tasted her blood. He tugged hard against her tunic until it tore. She screamed as he kissed her neck and began pulling at the strings of her small clothes. Her skin had a faint soapy scent on it.

    He pushed her down against the table, tears rolling down the sides of her face and whimpers escaping her bloody mouth. Somewhere from the corner, her fat father pleaded Agrienne to stop. But he stood there in the shadows, unmoving like craven mice. Agrienne tore away the girl''s clothes until her torso lay bare before him. She stopped moving again, only sniffling every once in a while. He kissed his way up to her neck as his fingers traced all the way down to below her torso. His eyes met her fearful pair. There, lying with her back upon the table, her blonde hair was clear to him. His image of Lera was shattered.

    "Flames!" Agrienne roared. He pulled away and flipped the table with all his might, dropping the girl to the floor where glass shards awaited her, the table falling onto her bony back. Agrienne stormed off, thrashing at every glass bottle in sight. He hit a lamp as well. It fell and shattered, lighting the alcohol damped common room ablaze. "We''re leaving this damned city," he told his guards as he stomped out of the inn, uncaring for the few pieces of expensive clothing he had left in his room.

    No matter how he tried justifying it, no matter how many lies he told himself, he knew that the Lera he was chasing was now dead. Dead and killed by Trillians. "Trillians. Flaming Trillians." He seethed.

    I''ll ruin them. I''ll ruin all that they stand for.

    They had taken away his beloved. He would take away everyone''s faith. He was Agrienne of High House Caranel. Lord Agrienne. I''ll plunge this land into chaos. I''ll be damned if I don''t use every ounce of my wealth to defame and ruin this Goddess. I''ll take everyone''s faith and turn it upside down. I''ll snuff out this divine hope that they cling to and love as they snuffed out my Lera''s life! He didn''t need everyone''s faith to break. Just enough to cause riots and burn cities. Just enough to poison the minds of Xenarian citizens so that they would never again be happy. If he, their rightful king, wasn''t allowed happiness, wasn''t allowed to have Lera, then mere peasants had no rights to happiness either.

 Chapter 63: Birth of a Hero (Book 2, Chapter 26)

    <u>Chapter 26 - Birth of a Hero</u>

    Azurus waited at his bed side, tapping an impatient foot against the old floorboards. Roxanne''s maid ¡ªMilly was her name¡ª was dusting his chamber with a broom. She had her greying hair tied at the back and wore a long black dress with a white apron on top. She worked silently, eyes focused on her task. It was calming in a sense, listening to the sweeping brush of straws graze against the floor, almost like sitting beneath a tree as a light breeze passed by.

    Sitting beneath a tree with Emeria.

    Milly coughed, interrupting the silence. Azurus turned his head as she cleared her throat with her arm an inch away from her mouth. "It might help to wear a face veil when doing that," he mentioned, returning his gaze back towards the window. A missive from the queen had come more than two cycles past, giving orders to quell the insurrection. Azurus awaited a group of Queen''s Guard to arrive from the Capital, still baffled at her majesty''s decision to reduce her own security for this task ¡ªa task he was in charge of handling. "Breathing in dust can''t be very Healthy," told Milly.

    Her majesty is letting me lead this group of knights with the excuse that I''ve been on the field a while and have experience here¡­ There was no other reason for the newest recruit to be put in a position of leadership. A convenient excuse so that others of higher rank in the Guard wouldn''t complain.

    "Your concern is appreciated, Sir Aegis," Milly said, brushing a small pile of grey into a wooden dusting pan. "Are you sure you''re alright yourself? I could bring up some sweets. Might help to calm the nerves."

    Azurus frowned. "Sweets don''t calm nerves."

    "It seems to work on the children."

    "They enjoy it. It takes their running minds off of whatever else. Sugar makes one jittery. You''ll notice the kids start jumping around again shortly afterwards."

    "Now that you mention it¡­" Milly walked away, pausing before the doorway. "Is there anything you would like?" She sounded oddly like Meredith, Metsiphon''s head physic. Did all women sound like that when they reached a certain age?

    Anything I would like. Azurus continued to tap his foot, lost in his own thoughts about the question, not realizing that Milly was still standing in the doorway. The old manse vibrated, but it wasn''t because of his tapping. Black horses and black armored knights crested the clear blue horizon, stretching out like the shadow of a reaching arm as they approached the Draumen estate. "Something I would like," Azurus repeated as he stood up and grabbed his sheathed sword that lay on his bed. "Some dried meat and hard bread that won''t mold for at least a cycle. And maybe a flask of strong liquor to wash potential wounds." The last one likely wasn''t necessary. Several wagons of supplies followed the guard. They would not have come unprepared.

    Milly nodded as she ducked out, Azurus following afterwards. He skipped down the grand staircase, finding Lady Roxanne sitting in the common room, reading a story to Cadril as Rayn, her youngest, slept soundly with his head on her lap. Cadril was swinging his feet from the blue-cushioned couch he sat on. "Sword man," the boy cried as Azurus reached the ground floor. Roxanne''s eye twitched in what appeared as a hint of annoyance.

    "Forgive me, my lady. Was this a bad time?" Azurus asked.

    She waved her hand. "I heard the rumbling a while ago," she said, avoiding the question. "They''re here aren¡¯t they?"

    He nodded. "Are you certain I shouldn''t leave some guards behind for you?"

    Roxanne snorted. Something she did often when seeming confident. "Azurus, from what her majesty''s letter entailed, you''re likely to be outnumbered by the insurrectionist militia. You''ll need every hand. Besides, what need do I have for more interrupting men when you''ll be getting rid of the threat soon?"

    Azurus nodded, though his instinct scratched at him. It was still up to him to decide. He was the contingent''s leader after all. His original mission, it seemed, had come to an end. The queen clearly thought these insurrectionists a larger threat than the Trillians. Or perhaps she''d found the evidence she''d been seeking against the First Chancellor. Whatever the case, Azurus would no longer be capable of studying Chronary. At least not with Odain. He still had a few pages of theories and experiments that he and Odain had thought up of. The least he could do was continue researching on his own time.

    "Say farewell to Lord Redmond on my behalf," Azurus said as he walked out the door, ignoring Cadril''s pleas to let him swing the sword.

    "Do return safely, Sir Aegis," Roxanne called after him. "This troublemaker will need a mentor when I send him to join the guard."

    Azurus went outside where Eleanoire was nibbling on grass a few feet from the doors. The mare reared her head as he approached, staring expectantly, knowing that he would scratch her neck. And he did, tying his sword to her side shortly after. Milly came out and delivered the required food items before ducking back inside just as a few hundred Lotus Knights in black halted before the estate grounds. A few helmed riders clopped up to Azurus, delivering a large bundle for him.

    "Your armor, Captain Azurus. And the mare''s as well," one man said, his face mostly covered. The visor to his helm was raised, but his plain eyes showed no emotion. Nor did anyone else for that matter. If they were upset at having to serve under the youngest of the Guard, they did not show it. Trained to obey, but jealousy could take hold in even the hardest of men. I have no friends amongst them, Azurus reminded himself. He''d never had the opportunity to make any. He wondered if he could trust them with his back.

    A single knight aided Azurus in strapping on his armor while two pairs of hands equipped a rudely snorting Eleanoire. He mounted and rode to the front of the contingent. "Move out!" he commanded, doing his best to stay calm and appear confident as Captain Aegis always seemed. He steered the contingent eastward, where this insurrection group was supposed to be stationed, taking one last glance at the Draumen estate. Roxanne and her two sons were standing outside, waving one hand as if bidding farewell to a son and elder brother. He allowed himself a smile, feeling warmth in his chest. Months spent in their home as if he were a part of it. Family, huh. Was this what that felt like?

    Azurus sent out a few unarmored men to ride hard and scout the lands to the east. There weren''t any major cities for many leagues. A few hundred miles southeast was Metsiphon and far north of that was the Black Marshes ¡ªthe site of an ancient battle during the War of Ashes. A battle so bloody the soaked ground turned to a bog. Aside from that, nothing but vast farmlands and villages with populations in the hundreds lay between the knights and their supposed destination. Much of the land was a mellow gold, grain crops at their full height and ready to be harvested.

    The harvest festival is soon, Azurus thought. Many a traveling group was on the roads, each one stepping to the side to avoid the Guard and tipping their hats in respect. Farmers and villagers traveling to neighboring residences to spend the festival with relatives and extended family. Azurus had spent every festival with Emeria since coming to serve her, exploring vibrant street markets while hidden beneath the hoods of dark cloaks. They''d managed to avoid balls held by the crown at times, and had instead slipped away to dance before bonfires on major streets.

    Those memories felt ancient, having been away from Emeria''s side for a more than half a dozen months. Hopefully this would be the end. Put a stop to these rebels and hope that her majesty commands me to return home. His mission as Richter could no longer continue. Word of the Lotus Knights stopping by the Draumen estate would soon spread and reach Odain''s ears.

    The Guard spoke little throughout the four day journey that it took, all of them obeying Azurus'' order without so much as a grunt of displeasure. They hardly idled when breaking camp at night, most men going to sleep early. A well-disciplined group as they were reputed to be. On the night of the fourth, the scouts returned, reporting a group of two thousand rebels who were marching from village to village, recruiting more and more people. They were led by minor local lords. Azurus ordered the watch doubled for the night.

    The camp broke afore dawn. Each man seemed like ominous spectres beneath a sunless sky when fully geared, their figures all the more harrowing once mounted on their black horses ¡ªan illusion only broken by the clattering of armor pieces and rustle of mail shirts beneath them.

    Azurus wore his helm with visor kept up. Scouts with flare beacons lead the charge from a half mile ahead. Hundreds of hooves clopped down the dirt road, a deep rumble stalking them. Darkness retreated from the sky, but there was no blazing sunrise to be found. A shroud of clouds hung above as if to hide the inevitable bloodshed from the eyes in the heavens. Azurus crinkled his nose at the smell of damp soil. A smell too strong to be considered morning dew. It had rained somewhere near not a day past.

    And then they came upon the perceived insurrectionists. Camped between two villages about seven leagues from each other were the targets. A ragtag camp with no lookouts or posted scouts. Azurus slowed his horse on a very minor incline, the knights riding to a gradual halt behind him. He peered down at the camp. Men were scrambling about, awakened by the approaching cavalry.

    Not a shred of organization. Not a hint of a capable leader.

    A short round man in the camp''s center barked orders. He wore what appeared an oversized red coat. One of the only distinguishable figures within the camp. A few guards in mail surrounded him. There were a few others in rich coats with guards around them. The local lords inciting this whole sham.

    Aside from them, no one else from amongst the recruited militia had any suitable equipment. No spears. No shields. Hardly any swords. What in Burning crops is this?

    "Captain, your orders?" a deep voiced knight boomed, rearing his horse up to Eleanoire''s side. Orne was his name. A capable second in command. "I believe we should put an end to this farce before they organize."

    Azurus watched for a moment longer. He sensed the contingent''s unease at his indecisiveness, the sounds of their metal plates clinking as they shuffled in their saddles not going unnoticed. "Before they organize was it?" Azurus said in a loud voice. "We could break for lunch and they wouldn''t be finished organizing." Soft laughter resounded throughout the ranks, their hearts put at ease. "Raise a white flag. They''ve not a decent weapon amongst them. Someone go send a message. Let''s see how they respond to a parley."

    Orne lowered his head, saluting with a fist to his chest. "As you command," he said, riding out towards the enemy encampment himself. He was met with a group of men antagonizing him with sharpened wooden staves, though, they didn''t try attacking him nor his armored horse. The fat man in the coat seemed to be running up, his guard following with drawn swords, shouting something Azurus couldn''t decipher.

    Orne turned back. "''You''re outnumbered greatly. We''ve no reason to cow before a whore queen''s dogs,''" he said, visor down. Azurus couldn''t tell what expression he was making. "His words. Not mine."

    "Did you have to repeat it verbatim?" Azurus asked, arms crossed. More laughter among the ranks. The knight shrugged, heavy armor rustling as he rejoined his peers. "Raise her majesty''s banners and spread out in rows of ten!" Azurus ordered. The Guard did as was told, black banners bearing a white lotus dancing with the damp smelling breeze. As if in response, the insurrectionist camp waved flags of their own. No. Not flags. Bedsheets with a cruel painting of a lotus set ablaze. The Queen''s Guard muttered amongst each other like a group of gossiping children, whispering and snickering. Outnumbered by about four to one, but not feeling threatened in the slightest. Azurus still didn''t give the order to charge, one white flag flying high.

    It took the entirety of dawn for the rebel militia to gather their wits. None amongst them had anything in the way of defensive equipment save for the lords'' guards. They marched forth, slowly spreading out as if meaning to envelop their enemies with their greater numbers.

    Azurus tightened his grip around Eleanoire''s reins. This felt¡­ wrong. Sick. Absurd. Pitchforks, staves, smithy hammers and kitchen knives. Not a militia. Just regular village peasantry and farmers like the travelers they''d passed. Hardworking citizens of Xenaria. A nation''s population is its lifeblood, or so Emeria had once said. Or had Elizia said that? He couldn''t recall.

    Still, they marched forth.

    Azurus grit his teeth. He snapped his visor down and drew his longsword. "Long live the queen!" he cried, his voice muffled by his helm. The horses neighed as heels were dug in to them. They galloped forth with all the strength of their mighty muscles. Azurus felt nothing. Not fear, not anxiety, not even confidence. He was expecting something else. Expecting soldiers and a spear wall to greet him and threaten his life so that he would at least be aroused to fight back. But there was nothing. The stave and pitchfork bearers weren''t even moved to the vanguard. The militia line broke and turned tail mere seconds before the cavalry reached them.

    Azurus swung down just as the Guard crashed into enemy lines. He swung just as he had practiced hundreds of times before, riding and swinging in air to get a feel for balance and horseback combat. It was no different this time. Amongst the thundering hooves and screaming men, he heard the hiss of his longsword slicing through wind clearly. The hiss turned into a soft swish, as if he were slicing through a dummy made of hay, and then his sword arm came up, half his gleaming and polished iron blade painted red.

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    No resistance. No emotion. His first kill. And a terrible feeling of nausea.

    He continued swinging down as his horse rampaged on, trampling all in her path. His blade went through flesh as an experienced butcher''s cleaver separates meat into chunks. A pit continued to grow at the base of Azurus'' throat. He held in his breath, his heart barely even audible. There was no thrill in this. Just disgust. With every swing, a scream was silenced. A life was ended. And a sin was committed.

    And then there were no screams altogether. Just a few snorts of horses stalking a bloodstained field. The foolish lords that''d led this tragedy were riding away atop their shabby ponies. The sight of them forced down Azurus'' nausea. He at last felt something. Anger and hatred. Their utter stupidity had led him and his men to committing this atrocity. To massacring a group of likely brainwashed peasants. It was insanity. "Bring those pigs back to me at once!" he roared, bloody sword pointed at the fleeing lords. "Alive!"

    Dozens of the Queen''s Guard galloped forth, their superior steeds reaching the targets with ease. The nobles were tied and dragged back to the field. Azurus dismounted, feet sinking a half inch into soft ground. He stood with his arms crossed as other knights forced the three captured targets down to their knees. Their discomfort was visible as their expensive clothes were splattered with mud. One wore a red coat, while a second was in blue and a third wearing grey. Their heads shook wildly, as if seeking some way out. The majority of the Guard were gathering bodies in one place to have them burned.

    "Eyes on me," Azurus demanded.

    "We don''t answer to the queen''s dogs," the man in grey said.

    Azurus kicked the man in the gut with his iron boots. He could''ve sworn he''d seen the fool making eyes at Emeria at some ball a long time past. Why bother asking anything? He closed his fists. They deserve to be tortured. But it didn''t make sense. These were landlords whose hands stretched no further than a village or a few farms at best. They could not possibly have thought that their insurrection would amount to much. There had to be someone else behind this. "Who ordered you to do this?"

    "I said, we don''t answ¡ª" the man began, before reeling again as his ribs met with iron boots once more.

    "This is the last time. Name yourselves and your sponsors," Azurus hissed, surprised at the venom in his own voice. He couldn''t keep his eyes on the targets. His gaze kept flickering back to the corpses behind them. Men he''d slain as easily as breathing. "I''ll count to three. If none of you speak, believe me, we''ll make you wish you were dead when we''re done with you."

    It began to rain then. A few drops at first, slowly growing in intensity until a soft drizzle pattered against the metal plates of the Guard in a steady rhythm.

    "One," Azurus said. "Two! Thr¡ª"

    "I''ll talk! I''ll talk," the round man in red wailed. He was crying, his tears masked by the rain. He shook against his bonds, trembling in fear. "I''ll spill everything. Just promise to let me go. I have¡ª"

    "That will depend on what you say," Azurus said.

    "Captain," Orne said, jogging up. "The perimeter is secure."

    Azurus nodded, making note of the dejected faces of the lords kneeling before him. "You were expecting someone?"

    The man in red nodded. "I am Lord Belta. This is Lords Dreyn and Poller. I-I swear this wasn''t my idea," he stammered. "Lord Poller was the one to approach me. He¡ª"

    "What?" the man in grey cried. "That''s a bare faced lie and you know it."

    Azurus kicked the man again. "Go on," he commanded. It was natural to throw former comrades beneath hooves. Some of what he said would be a lie, but judging by how the round man quaked, there would be some truth to his words yet.

    "Yes. Yes of course," Lord Belta said, prostrating repeatedly like a sycophant. "You are most merciful, Captain. As I was saying, Lord Poller was the one to approach me. I received a threatening message of sorts. Something about joining or being deemed an enemy. He showed up with a few hundred soldiers," Belta said, gesturing to the scattered bodies. "I-I had no choice but to join. I swear. They surrounded my home and¡ª"

    "Who was pulling Poller''s strings?"

    "I-I don''t know. Some men in hoods. They gave us gold and convinced us that Xenaria was on the verge of falling. There''s more armies elsewhere, scattered all over Xenaria those men said. Saw them with my own eyes. More militia like ours. They said they would help us. We were following them. Supposed to converge on the city of Heira and beat down its garrison. And¡ª"

    Azurus held up his hand. "Others? Men in hoods you said? Not lords leading them?"

    "Oh. Oh no. There were lords. What were their names¡­?" The man thought, looking skyward, blinking furiously as a raindrop entered his eye.

    "Names are not important," Azurus said. Minor lords he''d never heard of. Those weren''t the puppeteers. "The men in hoods. Who are they? What did they promise you?"

    "I-I don''t know," Belta stammered. "I swear it upon Trillia''s holy name. I swear it, Captain. They promised us grand positions in the capital. Told us when to keep marching and where. I truly don''t know anymore. We were going to Heira and¡ª"

    "Heira?" Azurus asked, hissing. The man had mentioned it before, but just now, the image of the Draumen estate came back to him. Lady Roxanne was too proud to give in to rabble like these, and her manor was a short distance from the city.

    Family¡­

    If any insurrectionists went to the Draumen estate as they threatened to¡­

    "Yes, Heira. I¡ª"

    Azurus roared as he swung his sword, taking three heads in one clean stroke. Outmaneuvered? Us, the Lotus Knights? Something was amiss with this insurrection. It almost felt as if the Guard''s movements were being read. A spy in her majesty''s court? Was it Chancellor Adrian? Or was Azurus reading too deeply into the situation? Did it matter? His family was ¡ªmy family? He pinched the top of his nose with his gloved fingers. A few months at the Draumen estate has turned me into this.

    Another group marching towards Heira. Except, the Guard and their scouts had come across no such army. There were the occasional travellers. Quite a lot of travellers, come to think of it¡­

    "Leave the bodies," Azurus commanded. There was no time to gather them up and burn them under the rain. "We ride for Heira!"

    ***

    Another hard four day gallop back the way they''d come. And no more travelers met upon the road. Azurus didn''t want to hurt the mounts, but noxious fear clawed at his kindness, scraping it away to leave a wound festering with malice. Embers of rage still glowed within his heart. Innocent farmers and villagers had been dragged into an ill game being played by an unknown figure.

    Heira could be seen early into the fourth day, the cavalry returning a half day faster than when they''d left. The cooling breeze of harvest season carried a faint burning smell. The city appeared unharmed. No sieging forces as Lord Belta had claimed. Not a hint of anything amiss. Azurus patted the side of Eleanoire''s armored neck. Just a little more, girl. About six miles more to Heira''s walls and a little less than that to Lady Roxanne''s home. He dug in with his heel, pushing her hard as the tired mounts of his knights struggled to follow.

    As the Lotus Knights drew nearer to the city, the bitter smell grew greater in strength. It didn''t come from Heira herself, but beyond. The contingent arrived at the Draumen estate. Azurus swallowed a pit stuck in his throat. A husk of a manor still stood to greet him; Blackened old stone walls with creeping ivy turned to dust, shattered windows and doors, and trampled upon garden flowers that had survived the fires.

    But the murdered manse was not the ghastliest sight upon which to lay eyes. Azurus turned to the great maple from where Cadril would swing. There, tied to the same thick branch was not the swing, but Roxanne herself, along with Redmond, and their maid and butler, Anaril and Milly. Ropes around their necks. Fleas buzzing around their pale, dead appearance. Tattered dresses and trousers swayed by wind, dancing around cold ankles marred with soot.

    The Queen''s Guard stopped at the mansion''s side, some dismounting to investigate while others left to secure the perimeter and scout ahead. Azurus dismounted and ran to the maple tree. Ran hard in all his heavy armor, snapping his visor down to hinder his own vision, praying to the Flames that the ones who hung were not the Draumens. But he knew that they were. He just didn''t want to see it. Wanted desperately to deny it and be told that he was wrong.

    They were a family. A loving and kind family Burn it! A pair of lovely parents and their children. They were the first example of a modest and normal family that Azurus had seen. Something he, an orphan, had often longed for. He fell to his knees before the tree, recognizing each and every face through the slits in his visor. "No¡­ No, no, no. Why¡­?" He struggled against his helm, shaking his head back and forth as he pulled it off, sweat filled dark brown hair plastered against his head. He buried his face in his gauntleted hands and wailed.

    "Captain," Orne''s deep voice said after a long while, placing a hand upon Azurus'' shoulder. "We found unrecognizable remains of a child within the manor. Some parts still smoldered. This¡­ incident at the earliest occurred sometime early last night."

    Azurus nodded, slowly rising. "Get them down from the tree. We''ll give them a proper burial." The man nodded before stalking off to call for more hands. Azurus stumbled off towards his horse, his only friend amongst the contingent. He just wanted someone to talk to. Someone to speak his emotions to. And something to direct this hatred towards¡­

    "Captain!" another of the Guard called. "Tracks. What appears to be hundreds of footsteps heading southward for well over a mile. We didn''t follow it any further. Do we chase?"

    Azurus nodded grimly. But they couldn''t set out right away. At least whoever it was that''d done this heinous deed was on foot. He couldn''t afford to break down. He was still the contingent''s leader. He''d had his moment of mourning. The knights didn''t need their leader sitting alone and brooding as well. "Rest the horses," he croaked, still wanting to cry. "Get feed from the city. We give chase after dawn." Azurus approached Eleanoire and pressed his forehead to hers. The horse snorted as he scratched her chin. "You did well girl. It was my fault. I shouldn''t have listened. I bloody shouldn''t have listened. I should¡¯ve left guards here. I should''ve¡­"

    He let out a stretched sigh. The sun was nearing the western side as evening fast approached. Azurus stared down the dirt road to Heira. Approaching towards the estate was a carriage with painted trillium flowers, followed by a dozen Trillian mercenaries and a dozen more soldiers in dark blue Heiran guardsman livery. Azurus closed one hand into a fist, the other wrapping around the hilt of his sword. Now they approach? When the deed has already been done?

    But how could he blame them? He''d failed to see this attack himself. He''d let slip past hundreds of militia, dismissing them as travellers. Why would Heira''s guard think any different?

    The carriage halted a short distance from the camped knights. Odain stepped out of it wearing a clean white coat with weavings of golden trillium flowers near its base. He had that same beautiful sword at his waist. The Vicegerent walked forward with his arms behind his back, a curious frown on his face as he approached Azurus. "Richter?" he asked. Azurus shook his head in response. Odain scratched his chin, looking thoughtful and wise despite his rather youthful skin. "You''re a member of the Royal Guard. Which only means¡­ you were spying on me."

    "That is the case, yes," Azurus admitted, looking down at his feet. He held no hostility against Odain. He''d somewhat begun looking up to him as a teacher in their Chronary studies.

    "I suppose that explains your honorable behaviour and initial hostility towards me. Rest assured, young man, I hold no qualms with having taught you what I did. I have confidence that you won''t misuse any knowledge regarding that."

    "Of course not! I''ll do my best to expand upon it and seek ways to help¡ª"

    Odain held up a hand. Azurus, to his own surprise, stopped talking. "Spying on me, hmm? I suppose it had something to do with our large numbers of armed hands?" Azurus nodded. "That''s quite alright. It is right for her majesty to fear something like this. But you know better now. We hold no ill will and have no desire for conflict. Now, regarding what happened here¡­"

    Azurus spilled the details, unable to contain himself. He needed an outlet. And Odain was that person with which he could engage in conversation. He mentioned everything, from the insurrection, to the threatening letter Roxanne had received.

    Odain scratched at his chin again. "The wall guards saw the manor burning at night," he said. "We thought it best to wait till daylight to come investigate. Alas, I got occupied with my duties and have only just found the time. Heira''s governor¡­ is peculiar. I''m not quite sure why he didn''t send out an investigation team at dawn. But we''re here now, and will have to take your report."

    Azurus nodded. He looked down at his feet. Even after all that talking, he still felt sick inside. He failed miserably. Not only had he not completed his original mission, but was actively failing in his current one, taking a reactionary role rather than a proactive one. Always one step behind, always playing another''s game. A vile game that had led to him slaughtering peasants as easily as heated knives slice butter. A game where an innocent family and their children had been slain because they chose the wrong side to remain loyal to.

    "This is sickening," Azurus said to Odain. "I let her die. I should''ve left guards here. I¡ª"

    "Young man¡­" the Vicegerent interjected.

    "I killed unarmed farmers with these two hands. I killed unjustly just as Lady Roxanne was killed unjustly. And¡­ And I won''t stop. They''re marching south. More farmers manipulated by the words of another. What am I to do? This isn¡¯t what I imagined being a Royal Guard to be. This isn''t the heroics I always dreamt of. Its nothing but nonsensical violence. Am I helping or am I the villain? I¡ª"

    "Young man," Odain interrupted again. "You are most certainly not the villain."

    "Then what am I?"

    Odain closed his eyes and exhaled. "A hero, of course," he said with a smile, resting a hand upon Azurus'' thick black pauldrons.

    "What?" I''m no hero. I''m a killer. I''m¡ª

    "A hero''s journey is never an easy one. The books we read, the stories we tell, they instill morals, but cut out the hardship that one might come across. Morals are instilled because heroes don''t want others facing the same hardships that they face. They don''t want others to walk upon the same torched passage that they''ve tread. To be a hero, young knight, is to carry the greatest burden of all. What you''re feeling is guilt, and every hero suffers from such."

    "The people will call you a hero for your feats." Odain continued. "For stories told by second, third, fourth hand accounts. The soldiers, however, will call you a hero for the time you buy them. That moment, that single breath, when everything is lost and they see their future covered in shadow, that last fleeting second when they see your back standing tall, fighting on. That moment is what inspires them, is what turns the tides, and is when you become a true hero. In that single moment, your blade must move faster than time. Faster than your own heart, your own mind. Abandon rationale. Abandon all thought and push through, or forever doom the light of day." Odain sighed again. "I don¡¯t like conflict. But I''m not fool enough to believe that life can pass without it. You''ve lived among the Draumens, young man. This hurts you most, of course. But you know best what kind of people they were, and whether they deserve avenging. Regardless of your thoughts, these farmers that have killed Lady Roxanne and Lord Redmond have committed a sin. They will commit more yet if they are not stopped. Not slain. Kill them. Win. Become a hero. That is the only consoling I can provide you. Conquer your guilt and carry on."

    Azurus swallowed for the tenth time that evening. He nodded, wiping his eyes with the backs of his armored hands. All he really could do was move forward. Chase after those that had killed an innocent family, and then return to the capital. Azurus turned to his knights. "Someone ride to the capital and inform her majesty of what has transpired here."

    Odain turned away and stepped into his carriage. The Heiran soldiers took a report from the Queen''s Guard and headed back towards the city. Azurus looked up at the clear sky, its light dimming with sunset approaching. Am I really cut out for this?

    That thought had to wait. For now, he had a responsibility to fulfill.

    ***

    Odain leaned in towards one of his personal soldiers. Not the riff raff recruited from Heira''s streets, but his replacement honor guard from the Thousand Sun City disguised as priests. "Make sure that messenger does not reach the capital." Everything was turning out exactly as intended. The boy was playing into his hands. "Use one of my birds to send this to the queen instead," Odain said, slipping a letter of his own into the soldier''s hands. A sweet letter that painted Roxanne Draumen as a traitor and insurrectionist that just had to be slain.

    And of course, any news that the queen received was likely to enter Duke Serene''s ears as well. And currently, Princess Emeria was supposed to be at Arcaeus, with the head of her guard being Radis Draumen. I wonder how he''ll react, Odain thought as he boarded the carriage, smiling to himself. He had also left enough hints within the pages of Chronary theories possessed by Azurus. Hints that might just lead to something grander, assuming the boy was smart enough to decipher them and driven far enough into a corner to use that knowledge. Become a hero, young knight. Become a hero.

 Chapter 64: Heart in the Mind (Book 2, Chapter 27)

    <u>Chapter 27 - Heart in the Mind</u>

    Emeria huffed out a breath, bending over to relieve her stomach cramps. Her sleeves had rolled down again. She clicked her tongue and shoved them back past her elbow. "Whew," she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her right arm, training weapon in hand. An old soldier, face twisted in a frown, grumbled as he rose to his feet and dusted his rear. He had only himself to blame for tripping over his own feet. He gave a terse bow before stalking off the field.

    Emeria stretched out. That was her third win for the day. And some thirty-eight wins in a row in total since she''d arrived at Arcaeus Peak. And zero losses! Except for the duel with Jengard Rask.

    That one didn''t count. She hadn''t started keeping record until after that fight. Obviously.

    "Next!" she said, her breath all caught. Observing soldiers mumbled to their adjacent peers, laughing and shoving, making challenges to each other. A good dozen had already lost to her. She kept her sun bright smile as her eyes passed on each and every man around her, all of them avoiding her gaze the moment her eyes met theirs. Her ears caught scraps of conversation.

    "Didn''t you say you could take her?"

    "I was drunk last night you oaf."

    "I can''t. Wouldn''t want to hurt the princess and be jailed."

    "Coward!"

    "Coming from the man that''s already lost to her?"

    Emeria resisted the urge to laugh. "Come now! Are¡ª" Are your balls the size of shriveled peas? No. Too vulgar for the heiress apparent. She''d never hear the end of it from Sir Draumen and Duke Serene. "Are you really frightened of poor little me? I do wonder what Lady Sar''tara would say if she could see you lot now."

    That seemed to have done the trick, shutting them all up in an instant. Their moods noticeably soured. Worked better than intended¡­ Had she overstepped, or were they just disappointed in themselves? Regardless, a challenger walked into the small chalk marked arena, a one handed wood sword held in his leather gloves. An experienced man, shaved head with grey scruffs around the neck and scars on his arm.

    Emeria took her stance. Her cramps gnawed at her sides again. Recently, she''d taken to eating larger portions. It helped with building her strength and stamina. And increased growth elsewhere. While she hadn''t gained much in the way of height, she was quite content with the subtle addition of mass to her hip and bosom. Unfortunately, eating brought about pain in her sides when exercising right afterwards.

    "Begin!" someone from the sidelines shouted.

    The veteran soldier charged and swung in a wide arc. Emeria deflected with her own weapon. Her forearms burned from overuse. She dashed past the soldier, with quick and light steps, backhanding him with her free hand. The taunt worked as she wheeled around to see a burning intensity within his eyes. He came at her again, and this time, Emeria lunged forward too. Faster yet, she struck the soldier''s wrist joint. He yelped, fingers loosening around the grip of his weapon. Emeria snapped her hand, striking his sword and disarming him before pointing her wood tip at his neck. And that was her fourth win for the day. Thirty-nine total.

    "Bah!" the old soldier said, picking up his sword while massaging his wrist.

    And here comes the excuse.

    "I''m a spearman. A spearman I say. Not cut out for swords, these hands of mine." He bowed low. "Your royal highness," he said before turning to leave. He paused halfway. "Well, Lady Sar''tara may not be proud of louts like us, but I''m sure she''d be happy to see how far her highness has grown."

    Emeria nodded, pulling back the taunt she had prepared for the excuse. The pain in her sides worsened. A break was in order. She wiped her forehead again, airing out her shirt while exhaling through her mouth. The unbuttoned collar was mildly damp with her sweat. She crinkled her nose. A bath was in order too.

    "I''ll be taking a break," she announced. The crowd around her began clearing. The younger ones among them seemed dejected. A handful of higher status from among them had tried courting her. Foolish, that. Imagine trying to court a girl in a garrison smelling of oiled iron, unwashed shirts, and damp soil of rained upon training fields. They thought they had a chance now that Azurus wasn''t following her everywhere. Well, Radis still followed her everywhere, albeit more discreetly. Where is he anyway? Sir Draumen normally was present on days she allowed open challenges.

    Emeria placed her wooden sword on a rack with other weapons while unbinding the band that held her hair, letting the golden mass flow freely. She peeled off her sweaty gloves. The skin at the base of her fingers were peeling despite them. Emeria left the sunlit training field and entered into the shadowed corridors of the garrison, each corner hiding a mail armored guard. All of them lowered their heads for her as she passed by, chainmail rustling.

    She wondered if she could best Azurus now. Her stamina had greatly improved over the last few months. She wondered where he was also. How he was. Whether he spent nights thinking of her as she did him. Winter was approaching. Her bed would be cold. Her birthday was soon also. Maybe he would surprise her on the day of and appear at the garrison. She relished the thought, imagining his dashing form riding beneath the gates in his dauntless black armor, longsword at his waist.

    And I''ll be there, leaping into his arms, kissing him before everyone! Maybe it would be night. Maybe the moons would be out, shining down at their blossoming love.

    Emeria daydreamt so hard that she really saw Azurus marching down a corridor, fully armored, plates clinking with his heavy steps. Her heart fluttered and her face flushed as the figure approached closer. This was reality. He was really here. He was¡ª oh. It was just Radis. But why was the knight fully armored? "Sir Draumen!" Emeria exclaimed. "Where were you? Did you see me spar? I practically beat everyone in five moves. I should like to spar with you also. Hmm. Do you think I could challenge Lord Serene? I don¡¯t know if it''d be appropriate though. I really¡ª"

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Radis stormed past Emeria without a word, face stern and eyes alight with dark emotion. His left hand was wrapped tight around the pommel at his waist. Emeria frowned. Upset or not, he hadn''t even acknowledged her presence just then. "Sir Draumen! Sir Draumen?" she called, hands on her hips. But he didn''t turn.

    ***

    "And then he just stomped past me as if I wasn''t even there!" Emeria explained to Elizia as they climbed a set of twisting stairs, fingers clutched around the skirt of the plain beige gown she''d changed into. They were on their way to answer a summons from the Duke. "He was fully armored too. A mere inch from bumping into me with those hard iron plates."

    "Mhm," was all Elizia said, yawning wide and without manners while vertically stretching her arms. "Gah! Why''s father calling us so late?" she asked, rubbing her shoulders as they passed by a window.

    "No clue. But you can be sure I''ll be giving Radis an earful when I see him again. Whatever his reasons for being upset, he, as my guard, almost hurt me."

    "Almost," Elizia echoed.

    "El, whose side are you on?" Emeria scowled, stopping before Kalin Serene''s office. Her scowl deepened as Elizia shrugged with a mischievous smile. She turned the doorknob and entered inside, Emeria trailing.

    "Ah, some warmth at last!" Elizia said, crouching before the lit hearth in the room. She yawned again, this time with noise.

    Emeria crouched besides her, feeling a bit cold herself. Lord Serene was seated at his desk, peering down at a map with flag markers on it. Jengard Rask was there also, his sheer presence making the office feel cramped.

    "Elizia, please cover your mouth when you yawn," Kalin said. "And do so with less noise. No noise preferably."

    "Yes father," she said lazily. She walked over to the table, nudging a flowerpot with a glowing blue everflower to better illuminate the map. "What, more Empire cronies?" she asked, looking down at the map.

    "Cronies?" Kalin raised an eyebrow. "Mind your speech too. Don''t speak like a tired old soldier. You are still a noble la¡ª" he was cut off by another audible yawn from his daughter. The duke''s brows furrowed. "Elizia," he said with a raised voice. "Have you been drinking?"

    She snorted. "Just a few mugs with my soldiers. I''m not a lightweight like you father." She looked down at the map as Emeria joined her side. "Hold on. This isn''t a map of our borders. It¡¯s a map of most of Xenaria. And these flags¡­"

    There were red flags everywhere, marking various points at the map. Small model houses were there also, which Emeria knew was used to mark down unlabelled villages.

    "Father, this isn¡¯t to do with that insurrection I''ve been hearing about is it? Why are there so many flags? Surely there aren''t so many of them running around the kingdom."

    Neither Kalin nor Rask answered, their expressions blank but speaking volumes. They turned their focus to the map again. To think the duke didn''t reprimand his daughter further for drinking¡­ The mood in the room was all wrong. The hearth fire suddenly seemed small and heatless.

    "Insurrection?" Emeria asked. She''d heard the word on a few soldiers'' mouths, but thought little of it. She felt a bit left out. Heir to the throne, and yet not privy to military information that even low rank soldiers were aware of. "Does Radis know? Does everyone but me know? Where is Radis anyway? He was angry for some reason. Do any of you know why?"

    "Er¡­" Rask began. Emeria waited for more. He didn''t continue.

    "I-are you serious? Am I the only one here that doesn''t know anything?" she cried, fists balled. "Am I not worth sharing things with? I''m the heir Flaming apparent! I have a right to know! Why is everyone leaving me out?" Emeria felt a lump in her throat. Wasn''t this supposed to be her second home? This kind of treatment was unfair. "Aren''t I allowed to share everyone''s burdens? Where''s Azurus? You know don''t you? The three of you know, I''ll bet. But you just won''t tell me."

    "I only found out where he was a few days ago," Elizia mumbled, as if that absolved her of fault.

    "A few days? And you didn''t share it with me?"

    Lord Serene sighed. "Your highness is right. We''ve been keeping things from you because we didn''t want to burden you with this knowledge. But as Xenaria''s sole heir, you''ve the right to know."

    Rask nodded, agreeing. "Sheltering Emeria will only hamper her ability to rule as queen one day."

    "Then explain everything from the bottom," Emeria demanded. "Start with Azurus."

    "Regarding the boy, his original mission was one of secrecy," Lord Serene explained. "Now, not so much¡­ He should be south of Heira right now, if you''re wondering. He''s chasing after a group of insurrectionists of well¡­" He rubbed his temples. There were dark spots beneath his eyes. "These rebels just appeared out of thin air, organized and striking with clear directions within the last two cycles. Sir Draumen''s sister was apparently among them. We received a missive from your mother this morning. Azurus, commanding a contingent of the royal guard, hung Lady Roxanne Draumen for treason. And Radis has now left his duty it seems. He''s gone from the garrison. He doesn''t believe his sister would ever betray the crown. Someone else will be chosen to be the captain of your highness'' guard for the time being."

    Emeria blinked. She stared down at the table. "South of Heira," she muttered, touching the map with her fingertips. "Azurus ordered the death of Lady Draumen? No. That can''t be right. He wouldn''t. That isn''t him. He wouldn''t command the deaths of a woman regardless of what they''ve done. And¡­ just no. Didn''t Lady Draumen have two children? Radis told me so. Azurus would have thought of all that. It just doesn''t make sense."

    "It doesn''t, but it¡¯s the word that we received," Kalin said. "Roxanne commanded farmers and villagers to kill and pillage while flying the banners of a burning lotus. Villagers that the knights had little choice but to put to the sword. We''ve all known the boy for years, Emma. I know he isn''t the type, but this isn''t something simple anymore. If something isn''t done, this could escalate into a civil war beyond repair. I think Azurus understands that. He''s certainly smart enough to. Thus, he''s removing people in positions of leadership within the rebels."

    "Or he''s upset at having to have killed manipulated farmers and killed the responsible party out of anger," Elizia said. "Emma and I spent the most time around him, father. Azurus is as kind as they come. It would only make sense to arrest Roxanne and take her back to the capital."

    "Yes," Emeria agreed, trying to process everything she''d just heard. "I don¡¯t believe it myself that Radis'' sister would betray the crown. And my Azurus wouldn''t order her killed even if she did. He''s returning to the capital right? Then I should return as¡ª"

    "Absolutely not!" the duke cut in. "These rebels are everywhere. The roads are not safe to travel right now."

    Emeria wanted to protest but she glanced at the map again. Flag markers littered Xenaria as crumbs litter an emptied plate. This many rebel groups and the Kalin Serene is only now hearing of this? She wanted to speak to Azurus. He couldn''t have changed this much in a few months. Emeria was certain this was a mistake. An error in the reports. But the reports were from her mother, to whom Azurus reported directly.

    Emeria rubbed her arms. The logs within the hearth still burned. The cold she felt did not come from outside, but from a foreboding feeling in her chest. "I-I think I need to rest," she stuttered. "Too many duels and all. Have a headache. I''m going to go sleep," Maybe if she curled up beneath a blanket, the cold within would leave.

    Emeria hurried out of the room, grateful that no one commented on her pitiful excuse. Pitiful¡­ Was that why information was kept from her? Was she too pitiful? Too fragile of mind? That couldn''t be allowed. Not when she would inherit the throne. But just now. Just this once, she wanted to hide in her bed and imagine Azurus was right there with her, broad chest pressed against her back, warm breath grazing on her neck, arms wrapped around her, sheltering her from the dark.

 Chapter 65: Ripple (Book 2, Chapter 28)

    <u>Chapter 28 - Ripple</u>

    Kalin leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. Would it have been better if he''d kept Emeria informed? What would Sar''tara have done? She''d have handled the situation a lot better, that¡¯s for certain. Both Rask and Elizia stared out the open doorway. The burning logs within the hearth continued to crackle as they slowly withered to dust.

    Was this it? Was this how everything would end? An entire forest had burned down while he was the duke. And now, Xenaria was slowly crumbling as well. Kalin gazed into the glowing hearth. A log piece broke and fell off the side of another. It was like staring at the burning Papillion all over again, observing from the outside with little strength to change anything. The fires were beyond control. The attackers numbered too many. The situation was lost before there''d been a chance to prevent it.

    How long am I going to play second fiddle to someone else''s designs? He pulled his eyes away from the fire, disgusted at his own memory of failure. His hands slowly curled into a fist. How weak. A small hearth was enough to put him on edge. And Sar''tara had once been surrounded by burning trees. Surrounded by fire with nowhere left to go. She was so much stronger than him. Smarter too at times. She''d somehow always known what he needed and when. Always known what others needed too. Would Xenaria be as it was if she were still awake?

    Awake. Flames knew he needed her at that moment. What he''d give to see her smile again or hear her speak if just but a word. But did he even want her to wake up now? Did he even want her to see the sorry state of her home? Would that he dared subject her to the same pain she''d endured some eighteen years ago? Kalin banged his fist on the table, flag markers on the map shaking and shifting out of position. "Burn it," he muttered, breaking the silence within the room. Elizia and Rask turned to him. He covered his face in shame, hiding the pain within his eyes. He was Duke Serene, the bastion of Xenaria. Xenaria''s Shining General. If he broke down now, what would become of the kingdom? If he didn''t step up, then who would?

    Elizia started towards the door. "I''ll go after¡ª"

    "Yes, you''ll go," Kalin said, cutting her off.

    "What?"

    He ran a hand through his hair. A hundred thousand blades at my command. About a quarter of that is cavalry. And Elizia commanded a fifth of that quarter. "The vast majority of our cavalry will hunt down these insurrectionist forces. Your unit is most suited for this. Thus, I''ll be sending you out as well."

    "But what about the Empire? Without horses, they''ll start encroaching in no time," Elizia protested. "Rask, help me out here."

    The Wolf of Metsiphon shook his head. "I cannot, my lady. I agree with your father. If not handled appropriately, this can escalate into a civil war. Men like Lord Galadin and Caranel are only as loyal so long as limiters exist to keep them in check. They''re likely privy to at least some of what information we have and they most certainly are seeking to make the most of it. At best, they''ll protect their own cities and no further. And there is still the matter of the Trillians. We have no grasp on the amount of fighting men that they''ve managed to place within Xenaria. This matter needs to be handled swiftly. Leave Tarmia to Lord Serene and I."

    Elizia looked down at her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second before opening them again, hands placed at her back and standing up straight. "I understand. Where am I to go?"

    Just like you, Tara. A model soldier.  Kalin rose to his feet and pointed at the map. "Head west. Send scouts to survey Exaltyron''s surroundings. Make sure the capital is not under immediate threat. As you can see here," Kalin said, nudging a trio of markers further west of the capital, "This particular group seems to be moving towards Exaltyron. It''ll take you the better part of a month to reach them if not more, but they''re on foot so far as we are aware. They''ve moved through multiple villages, either razing or recruiting along the way. Intercept them. See if anyone has any information. Otherwise, kill them. From there, you''re on your own, Elizia. It will be up to you to send scouts out far and stay as informed as possible about the state of Xenaria and locations of other enemies. I cannot maintain a steady supply line either. You will have to ration your food and request aid from elsewhere if you run low. Any questions?"

    Elizia examined the map. Then she shook her head. "May I bid Emeria farewell before I go?"

    Kalin nodded. "Yes of course. Comfort her if you can. I''ll do my best to watch over her." His daughter pressed a fist to her chest and gave a terse bow before turning to leave. "Elizia," Kalin called just as she was about to leave the room. He strode up to her. "Are you really up to this?"

    She frowned. "You''re asking me this now, father? I''ve already slain people. Already participated in a battle. I''m more than¡ª"

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    "That isn''t what I''m asking. You weren''t fond of killing, as you shouldn''t be. This won''t be the same. From what we know, the vast majority of these rebel forces seem nothing more than ordinary peasants. This won''t be like killing soldiers. There isn''t an ''us'' or ''them'' here. This is ''us'' and ''us'' only. You''ll be killing citizens of Xenaria. The nation''s lifeblood. Its farmers and smiths and innkeepers and woodworkers."

    "I¡­ I understand," she answered.

    "Don''t lose sight of yourself and what you''re fighting for, Elizia. You cannot let emotions weigh down your boots. Nor can you let them consume your heart and turn you into a beast. And most importantly," he hugged her, "stay safe. Your life is what matters most. So long as you''re alive, you can still fight. And so can we. I''m already breaking without your mother. I can''t lose you too."

    "I''ll do what I can, Lord Commander."

    "Elizia¡­"

    "I''ll stay safe daddy," she whispered, returning his embrace. "I promise."

    "Try not to drink much, hear? It''s not a good habit."

    "Mhm."

    "I mean it," he said sternly. He rustled her hair before letting her go, staring out the doorway as her shadow slipped away and the sound of her footsteps faded down the corners of the corridor.

    "Farmers and villagers," Rask said. Kalin turned to find The Wolf staring out the window. "What will become of this nation when this is all over?"

    Kalin had been wondering that himself. He scratched at his beard. So many peasants caught up in this affair, and all of them starting an uprising at about the same time. This was organized, and whoever was orchestrating it had an information network as strong as Kalin''s own to be commanding organized movements all throughout the nation.

    And even if we quell this rebellion quickly, Xenaria could very well be crippled with this many of its peasant class culled¡­ Kalin clenched his fists. Pressed from all sides with no way out.

    ***

    Kazir sat cross legged on a smooth and hard surface, hair unraveled, darkness abound. He imagined himself sitting beneath a tree in a courtyard of stone, moonlight touching its top and shadows hiding him beneath. Somewhere, a fair distance away, a drop of water rolled down the leaf of a plant, hung at its vertex, and then fell to a puddle. Plop!

    A single drop sent ripples to all sides of the puddle.

    And then all was still. Whether changed for the worse or better, only time would tell. Kazir breathed in the cold night air. It was always night after all. So it had been for the better part of two decades. Frost touched his lungs. He exhaled, a shallow warmth. He heard the silent footsteps of an approaching assassin long before they could possibly have seen him. He could smell the faintest odor of the body and road worn clothes from over a hundred meters away even if the wind blew true.

    The silent footsteps grew nearer and louder. The odor grew stronger. "Master Kazir," the assassin said, stopping a mere few feet behind. "Xenaria burns."

    "The nation of Flame Bearers is set ablaze. Who''d have seen this coming," Kazir said wryly. "Explain further, Iskra."

    "There is large scale insurrection. Lord Serene has sent most of his cavalry to contain the matter, one group heading west while the rest move north and northwest."

    "Mm." Kazir stood, wrapping his black hair around his neck. He flexed his scarred fingers. The loss of ships and siege weapons during the last skirmish was an expensive blunder. Siege weapons Kazir had been prepared to lose. He''d amassed many more at Fort Cayra. The ships should have been an ideal retreat mechanism in the event of a defeat, and yet, no organized retreat had come because every field officer had been slain from a distance. "What of this Huntress? Has Kalin truly found a cure for the Decade''s Curse?"

    "No, master. The Huntress we have heard of is his daughter, Elizia Serene."

    Kazir flexed his fingers. The girl took after her parents, but to think a man like the duke would send his daughter to fight when his wife had fallen on the field. You''ve changed. You were my equal. My better, even. But familial attachments has made you human. Given you weakness. Kazir rubbed his eyes. They ached still when recalling that night. But not nearly as much as the pain blindness had brought. They''d driven him, an assassin, to fear darkness, to desire light and warmth.

    But Kazir was Wickar. And Wickar adapt. "How many soldiers do we have here at Cayra?" he questioned.

    "With the eastern warfronts quiet, we''ve had mercenary bands and career soldiers joining us in the hundreds. About sixty thousand militia recruited within the last half year. And about half more of that number that have at least a year of training under them. As for disciplined and trained warriors, we have at least forty."

    Kazir looked up at the dark sky, as if actually expecting to see the stars and moons. Was it even night? About a hundred and thirty thousand pieces of flesh waiting to be skewered by either spear or arrow. Some two dozen siege engines. Resource stores in good number, for if there was one thing the Empire did well, it was keeping its citizens fed and keeping resources stocked. But was a winter siege attempt wise?

    It had to be. Kazir hadn''t paid Kalin back nearly enough. And this inner strife within Xenaria was an opportunity he couldn''t miss. A chance to at last obtain the land he''d spent half his life coveting. He stared the other Wickar assassin in the eye, or at least imagined that he did. He had sense enough to know he faced the right direction at least. "Have the officers prepare for a campaign. Send Samlan to go hunt down Elizia Serene. I want her dead. And I want Kalin to know it when we attack. I want him to be dead inside. I want him broken, and incapable, as I once was. Arcaeus Peak stands atop an incline with a lake next to the less steep side. Sieging it is foolish, but with a broken Lord Commander, the army''s spirits will be decimated."

    "As the master wills."

    Kazir sensed the assassin bowing before he walked away, his footsteps heard for a long while yet. He sat back down again after a while. He closed his eyelids, though not needing to, and once more listened to the sounds of a distant droplet of water slipping down a leaf, falling into a puddle, ripples following. Ripples that would soon turn to waves. Waves that would soon turn to a towering tide that would consume all once it fell.

    Or not.

    Maybe, the wave would just remain a wave until it reached the shore and did little but wet its surface. Maybe Kazir would just be adding another battle to his list of defeats to Kalin Serene. Only time would tell.

 Chapter 66: Shameful Return (Book 2, Chapter 29)

    <u>Chapter 29 - Shameful Return</u>

    Gulls circled above Qalydon''s harbor. Dawn had just broken, revealing an empty sky with fading embers. Eildred leaned against a mast as the Salamander approached the city. Rescue efforts had taken the better part of the night. Few soldiers and sailors from the fallen ships had made it aboard the four surviving vessels of the fleet. Most had been swept away to Flames knew where, or had sunk to the depths with arms stretched towards the surface and mouths hanging open, a world of water muffling their final cries.

    Ding! Ding! Ding!

    Eildred looked up, eyes heavy and body aching. Qalydon rung bells to announce the fleet''s return. The men aboard found no welcome in its song. Eildred especially wished it would stop. It was no better than listening to the bells before an execution, bells to gather an audience while a criminal''s sins are read aloud, his head placed upon a block, a masked executioner standing behind with an axe in hand. Eildred was the criminal. The ships were sailing towards the city as a sinner is marched up the steps of the execution stand. And the audience were the women and children at the harbor, awaiting the return of their loved ones. Many of them would stand waiting forever.

    The incessant shrieks of gulls grew harsher with the nearing of the vessels. Eildred stood at last, staring his fears in the eye. More and more people gathered beyond the harbor, their worry evident as only four of twenty ships were returning.

    What am I to tell them?

    The ships were moored and men upon them disembarked, sailors rushing to greet their families while soldiers from the capital lined up on one side, awaiting further orders from their commanding officer. He descended down the gangplank, his armor bundled in a burlap bag slung over his shoulder like a pile of junk. A Lotus Knight''s armor. The symbol of Xenaria''s strength, its grace, and its unrelenting defense. A strength that showed weakness. A grace that was now stained. And a defense that had shattered. Captain of the Guard. What right do I have of wearing such a piece?

    The wails began. The tears flowed. News was broken. Some collapsed to their knees. Others ran to the edge of the shore, peering into the horizon. Few returned home, distraught and unbelieving. Eildred walked over to the soldiers. But what order was he to give them? He wanted to go home and see Dahlia, but how could he face her now? And how could he just up and leave Qalydon?

    The Thundersword, a fearless hero, now a shameless defeated man who''d run away. Such would be the rumors. He didn''t care about his own image. But if he who had been a symbol of Xenaria''s pride were to be slandered, it would tarnish the nation''s image, and more importantly, Dahlia image.

    The first order of business was to wait for Theodore. Flames willing the escort ships would return with him safely and plans for the future could be made in accordance. He spotted Tilda stepping out of a carriage, child in her arms. She wore that same white dress as from the day before. She strode up to him, her expression undecipherable.

    "Sir Aegis¡­" Tilda said, the question in her voice clear. Eildred could see the reflection of The Salamander within the darks of her eyes.

    "We lost," was all he could respond with, head hanging low. She was about chest height to him, and yet he felt so small before her right then. Smaller than the child she held to her breast.

    Tilda didn''t ask about the defeat. Didn''t ask about the ships. Or the men. Her expression had barely changed upon hearing of the loss. "Where is Theo?" she questioned.

    Her gaze felt sharp as a lance. Her three words stabbed with more vehemence than a dagger in the back. Eildred avoided her eyes and turned to the sea, checking to see if the two ships he''d sent were at the horizon. And they were. For a moment, he felt a minor relief. The lump in his throat receded. He opened his mouth to explain but Tilda rushed passed him, likely guessing at what was happening. She stood on the wooden planks of the harbor, staring out while a breeze made the frills of her dress flutter like small angelic wings.

    Eildred thought of waiting beside her, but he couldn''t. His heart sank as the two ships got closer to the city. Their sails were in tatters. Some were near burnt entirely. The ones remaining were riddled with holes, barely in functioning condition to carry the vessels back home. The frame itself was in no better shape, cracked wood here and there and iron bolts sticking out the sides. Had they even made it to Kovar, or were they decimated before reaching the island?

    The ships moored and the men came down, some in bandages and others with their arms around comrades for support. Tilda stood unmoving. The last of the sailors and soldiers descended, ship captains coming down at the end. Some formerly crying citizens were now shedding tears of joy as a few more of their husbands and brothers had returned.

    None of them however, were Theodore Coraine.

    Tilda''s gaze turned back to the horizon. Eildred walked over to her. The bundle in her arms shuffled about. Eildred closed his eyes, teeth clenched. He breathed in and mustered the courage to speak. "I sent those two vessels to escort him back. I don''t think any more ships will be returning, my lady."

    "I see," was all she said, still staring at the horizon. Her son began to wail and squirm. She held him loosely, her arms trembling. Her hands were slowly sliding to the edge of the bundle they held.

    "Tilda!" Eildred cried, grasping her hands to support them before she dropped her son. Her expression was blank. No. She was in shock. A single tear rolled down her cheek and fell. She blinked, looking up at Eildred.

    "I¡­ Was I¡­ Did I almost drop¡­? I''m sorry, Sir Aegis. That was poor of me."

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    "No, I am to blame. If only I hadn''t¡ª"

    But she wasn''t listening. Tilda clutched her child and wiped her eyes before turning away, her shadow stretched thin as if scraped against the planks. Eildred swallowed, creases forming on his forehead as he closed his eyes. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling Tilda''s tear that had fallen on one. Sea breeze touched them. It felt especially cold.

    ***

    Eildred stared at his own reflection within the dark liquid of his tea. He hadn''t touched it at all. It had gone cold and no longer carried a scent. A few biscuits were set aside on a plate next to his cup. His empty stomach rumbled, but he didn''t move to pick up any. He waited in the Coraine manor''s common room, unsure of what to do or what to say. Tilda was on the second floor somewhere, mourning. He very well couldn''t leave the city without her permission. It would be rude.

    I need to return to her majesty. There was the matter of the Flame Bearer which Dahlia needed to know. A boy prince with hatred for the nation and surrounded by talented and powerful individuals. The child needed to be brought to heel or he could one day grow to threaten the crown. Further internal strife was the last thing Xenaria needed.

    Return home and extinguish the immediate threats to Xenaria alongside the queen. And then return to reclaim Kovar. That was Eildred''s current plans. But what if Tilda demanded his aid right now? He could refuse of course. But Eildred wasn''t certain he had it in him to refuse anything at that moment. He had made a silent promise with her and he hadn''t kept it. He''d betrayed her trust and now felt paralyzed. His fingers closed around the glass cup, its surface cold. He squeezed hard while glaring at his own eyes within the liquid. Glaring at his own shameful face. He downed the cup in a single breath, hoping to punish himself if but a little with the bitter taste of tea.

    There was no punishment to be had. The tea was sweet, a lavender blend mixed with honey. Theodore''s servants were as mindful as they were hospitable, offering a calming tea without being asked for it. Eildred massaged his forehead with his fingers. His stomach rumbled again. He finally gave in and brought a biscuit to his mouth. It was sweet also. A thick biscuit filled with date paste. He let out a long sigh before leaning back against the velvet cushioned seat, reminded of Theodore''s nonchalant attitude just yesterday. Eildred was regretting having beaten the man all those years ago. He hadn''t deserved it.

    Eildred finished every biscuit, crumbs spilt over his shirt. Sweet food, kind servants, and an expensively furnished manor with pieces that complimented each other and made the space whole. But it all felt cold and hollow. They no longer seemed to serve a purpose with their master not present.

    Shoes clacked against a set of stairs to Eildred''s left. He looked up to see Tilda descending with two maids. She''d changed into a full sleeved black dress, hair tied back with a thin veil resting before her face. Even with the veil, he could see her bloodshot eyes worn from shedding many tears. She didn''t seem to have washed her face either, vague lines of saltwater marking her cheeks. She sat down opposite of him, maintaining proper manners and grace with her movements, her two maids standing behind her.

    "Er," Eildred began. What was he to say? Apologize? What good would it do Tilda in that moment?

    "You should have left, Sir Aegis," she said. Her voice was damaged, cracking with every other word. A third maid arrived with a tea set, pouring her a steaming cup and refilling Eildred''s own. "The queen will be needing your aid. Strange things have been happening, or so I''ve heard. I haven¡¯t had time to confirm any of it though."

    "My lady, I¡ª"

    "Sir Aegis, please. If you''re going to apologize, don¡¯t. Battles can only ever have a victor and a loser. We lost. That''s all."

    That wasn''t all. How could that be all? Twenty warships the likes of which Illusterrra had never seen. Two of the realm''s greatest swordsmen, and all they had to show for it was six surviving vessels and thousands of deaths without bodies to return to families. How could Tilda not be blaming him deep inside? "Strange things?" Eildred asked, hardly curious at that moment.

    "I''m not sure. I''ve received word of a few villages denouncing the crown and starting an insurrection."

    Eildred frowned, a bit more curious. Villages rebelling? It wasn''t as if Xenaria had conquered new lands and its newly acquired citizens held resentment for it. "Why would long standing Xenarian citizens start a rebellion all of a sudden? And how many are there?"

    "I don''t know," Tilda answered, blowing away steam from her cup before taking a sip. "That is why you should hurry back to her majesty''s side, I think."

    "What of Qalydon?" Eildred asked, suddenly losing the courage to look her in the eye. He once again found himself staring at his reflection in his tea. Sudden high pitched wailing could be heard from upstairs. The cries of an infant. Eildred glanced at Tilda who sipped again, unmoved by the sounds. "Er, should you go see to your son?"

    "It''s fine," she answered.

    The wailing continued, seeming louder. "Are you su¡ª"

    "It''s fine!" Tilda shouted, arms shaking, a drop of tea falling into her lap.

    Eildred swallowed. She was upset after all. But of course she''s upset. He bit his lip, bringing his own teacup half way up before setting it back down. He took in a deep breath. "Is there anything you would have me do before I return to the capital?"

    Tilda was staring into her own cup, holding it up by its handle with two fingers and her free hand beneath it. Steam still rose from within. The cup''s surface had to be hot. She was intentionally burning her palm. She lifted it up at last, face twisting. It took several moments before she managed to wear a half calmed expression. "How many soldier do you have left?"

    "Of the five thousand I arrived with, a little less than two fifths I believe. About a hundred or so with injuries."

    "Can you leave most of them at Qalydon?"

    Eildred frowned. "Pardon? My lady, you aren¡¯t thinking of retaking the island are you?"

    She closed her fists. "I''m not that stupid!" she cried. "I¡­ I''m sorry," she then quickly said, turning her head away. "It was logical of you to assume that. No. Qalydon doesn''t have many defenders herself. With pirates roaming the seas and Theodore¡­ No. I just want the city to be prepared in the event anyone attempts a raid."

    The infant''s wailing continued. Eildred felt uncomfortable carrying on the conversation like this. "I see. Very well. I''ll take the injured men with me and perhaps a hundred more. I''ll leave the rest in your care. Does Qalydon''s garrison have the resources to feed and house them?"

    Tilda offered a  faux smile. "My husband may be gone, but House Coraine is still here, Sir Aegis. We''re filthy rich, remember?" She took another sip from her tea. "Leave the injured men here. There is no need to burden them with a return trip. I can have them treated and you can make haste to Exaltyron without being slowed by them."

    Eildred nodded. Her thoughtfulness in such a time was admirable. "Then by your leave, my lady."

    "Farewell, Sir Aegis."

    He rose and bowed, turning away. He paused after a few steps. "This isn¡¯t over, Tilda. Once things have settled in the capital, we will aid you in retaking the island."

    Tilda sighed. "If only retaking the island would bring him back¡­"

    Eildred flinched. His parting words were poor.

    "I''m sorry, Eildred. I didn¡¯t mean to hurt you. Your help will be appreciated then. Trade can resume if Kovar is retaken and many refugees will be allowed to return to the lives that have been stolen from them. Don''t worry for me. I''ll be fine. I promise."

    She didn¡¯t look fine. She was still ignoring the cries of her own son. Though some within Qalydon might be given their lives back in the future, Tilda Coraine''s life would remain changed for the worst. Eildred bowed again, leaving the hollow manor without another word.

 Chapter 67: Riots (Book 2, Chapter 30)

    <u>Chapter 30 - Riots</u>

    Dahlia stood before the window of her cluttered office room. She looked her guard up and down. His dark red coat had loose strings at the cuffs and looked a few centimeters too short. "What was your name again?" she asked for the third time that cycle, arms crossed, shadow extending to touch his boots. She knew full well what his name was.

    "Arus L''Faleur, Your Majesty," he answered, with not a hint of irritation. He had a hideous scar on one end of his mouth that made it seem as if he were constantly smirking to that side. A mop of dirt colored hair and a milky eye he likely couldn''t see out of.

    And this was the man Eildred had chosen to be her personal guard in his stead.

    "Right. Arus. Now, why do you suggest we can''t have seamstresses brought to the palace for my wedding?" she asked, tapping her foot. The year had precious few months left. She''d promised Adrian to announce their engagement before its end. She at least planned to follow through with appearances, but this oaf here had been difficult since she''d suggested preparing for a formal engagement ceremony.

    "I''ve suggested no such thing, your majesty." His voice was gruff and cracked at all the wrong times, making him sound like a lifelong drunk who''d seen ten dozen too many bar fights. "I''ve merely said that screening and background checking everyone will take some time."

    Dahlia frowned. "Is there reason to screen anyone from Miss Sevanna''s company? Or any company from the Nobility District outside of the plateau for that matter? They''re all reputable."

    "With all due respect, majesty, the Queen''s Guard do not screen for quality of goods. Even those people that were trusted before will be checked again. Circumstances change with time. It doesn''t take much to compromise a person."

    Entirely overprotective and stubborn. She was the queen, and yet she felt two steps away from being in a prisoner jailor relationship. The messy room full of shelves and open books and loose papers did little to help that feeling. What was Eildred thinking choosing this man? "Arus, I hereby dismiss you as my personal guard," Dahlia ordered. "I want you replaced with your twin brother. And make sure he knows why you were replaced."

    "I''m afraid that cannot be done. Irus is in Arcaeus Peak. He''s part of the First Princess'' guard retinue." Arus sighed. His expression didn¡¯t look any less revolting. That scar still made it seem like he was smirking and belittling his queen. "Your Majesty, did you think the Lord Captain did not go to such lengths for you? The Guard are currently short of staff, as per your commands. We cannot conduct timely screenings of every little thing. If you must, I know a small shop south of the plateau. It is at the edge of the Nobility District. A little run down, but its run by someone I trust. Any orders may take some time to create but it''s honest, hard, and good work."

    Dahlia narrowed her eyes. She folded her arms again, switching up which arm was on top and which was below. Her skin itched from the poor cloth quality of her blue gown. It only served to deepen the lines in her vexed expression.

    "I would implore you to not judge things by their looks, Your Majesty," Arus said.

    She froze. Those words cut deeper than she expected. She was judging her guard by his appearance, uncaring for how he''d come to attain such wounds. Uncaring for his perspective on himself. And she was upset at him for just doing his job. Dahlia opened her mouth to apologize. She smacked her lips shut before any words came out, a lingering pride forbidding her, the queen, from doing any such thing. She took in a deep breath and met Arus'' eye, stomping out that pride until no life remained in it. "Forgive me," Dahlia said. The only pride a queen should have is that of accomplishing her task as the people''s guiding hand, not looking down in scorn because she stood on a higher pedestal than the rest.

    "There was nothing to forgive," her guard said, his voice still haggard. His lips curled up, the scar making him look cold like the twisted branches of a barren tree. But it was a smile Dahlia could take pride in having caused.

    "Don''t do that," she said. "Don''t feed my ego. There absolutely was something to apologize for. Hold me accountable when I err. It is in your right. Respecting me for my title is respect given out of fear. Respecting me for my actions is respect given out of admiration."

    "Understood, Your Majesty."

    "Good. Now, you were saying something about a seamstress you know?" It wouldn''t hurt to help out a small business. Wouldn''t hurt at all. "Can they be brought to the palace?"

    "Er, about that. The owner is a bit shy. It would be better to visit the shop yourself." Arus scratched his head. "Under a hood of course," he then quickly said. "I don''t think it''d be wise to announce that you''ll be touring the city right now. Not with so few knights anyhow."

    Dahlia nodded, a bit suspicious. But this was the man Eildred chose to protect her. She had to have a bit of faith. At least he wasn''t suggesting she remain prisoner on the plateau. She could use a change of scenery also. The constant reports of Xenaria''s turmoil was getting strenuous. There was only so many orders she could give. All she could do now was await Eildred and Azurus'' return.

    When was it I last went out shopping? Anyone trying to sell jewellery or clothing came directly to the palace. Her last outings into town had been during her late teens when she had more freedom. It wouldn''t hurt to indulge for a half day. A new dress for her engagement and one for her wedding. It wasn''t a fa?ade. Not really. She would purchase them to deceive Adrian, yes. But Dahlia planned to use them still. Use them for Eildred. She wondered what expression he would make when she asked for his hand, because that lump of metal and muscle surely wasn''t going to ask her first.

    A forgotten longing surfaced to the forefront of her thoughts. Dahlia once again dreamed of looking pretty and dancing in another''s arms as she had so many years ago. She vowed to impress that stonewall of a man until he crumbled before her beauty. "Right then, what is my schedule for later today?" Dahlia asked, looking out the window. It gave a view of the courtyard below. Blue uniformed Queen''s Guard walked back and forth along a set path, the backs of their coats bearing the white lotus.

    "You were to meet with a subset of the merchant''s guild that moves grains across Xenaria. They worry about the roads with rebel parties roaming the lands."

    "And there''s nothing I can do until our soldiers return." Meetings such as these were usually handled by the chamberlain and his personal aides, but Finral and Dahlia had agreed that having the queen personally give out assurances to any grievance regarding Xenaria''s current state would show confidence in how the situation was being handled. "It''s settled then. Move my appointment to tomorrow. Let''s go visit this dressmaker of yours."

    "Er¡­" Arus trailed off, staring into space which there wasn''t much of.

    "We''re going right now, Sir L''Faleur," she repeated. He eyed a stack of unchecked papers on her desk. Some were reports from the city guard or major grievances of the public that civil servants couldn''t handle on their own. The usual. There were a few letters from Kalin which had gone unopened. Probably a response on Azurus'' findings and Radis Draumen''s thoughts on his sister''s alleged treason. Dahlia neatly stacked all the papers together and pushed them to the side of her desk, waved her hand, and then flicked a lock of her hair.

    They could wait. Everything could wait.

    Looking at the pages made her head feel like lead. She felt a modicum of excitement for once. She was in love and she was going shopping because of it and no amount of work would stop her otherwise. Just this once she was going to indulge. Just for today. Just a half day. "Leaving now," she said again, fists closed. She had half a mind to throw a tantrum and release all the stress of the past three years bottled up inside of her. But no. A queen needed a bare minimum of dignity.

    "Right, of course. As my queen wishes," Arus nodded. "I shall inform the Guard. They can shadow us from a safe distance." He gave a bow, revealing another scar on his scalp, before leaving the room. The embroidered white lotus at the back of his coat had some loose strings on it. The man could benefit from visiting a seamstress himself.

    ***

    Dahlia had an urge to skip as she followed Arus down a clean kept, but busy street. The Nobility District, as the name suggested, was where most of Exaltyron''s aristocracy and gentry resided or set up shop. Groups of ladies with parasols and bright colored dresses walked past, their polished shoes clacking against cobblestone. Some travelled with horse drawn carriages. Others shopped with a chaperone close behind.

    Young men also roamed the streets, rich coats and high boots, arms linked with a woman''s. Others walked in groups with matching uniforms of their minor houses and ornate swords at their waists.

    Arus kept turning his head back leftward as if checking if Dahlia was following. The puzzling part was that his milky eye was on the left side. Could he see out of it after all? She shrugged the thought away and skipped to keep up with his long strides, humming. "Skipping down the cobblestones, window shopping as I go! Shadow stretching long and black, blooming noon sun at my back!"

    Dahlia heard her guard cough as she sung the children''s rhyme. She tugged on the hood of her forest green half cloak to hide her face which her skipping steps almost caused to slip off. They passed by a fountain with children running around it. Passersby flipped copper pieces into it for good luck. Arus turned a corner and she followed, taking a glance back at the gleeful children of her kingdom. She caught sight of multiple tall figures in long black cloaks just as Arus tailing them from a distance. Members of her guard.

    Dahlia kept on humming, realizing she looked no different than a wealthy woman traipsing about with a chaperone herself. She repeated the rhyme again, wondering what the reaction would be if she were to sing a different version that she''d heard. A less modest version that adolescent boys sung often.

    Arus stopped walking just before a steep decline that marked the beginning of the Commoner''s District that made up Exaltyron''s outer ring before the city''s walls. And on the northwest corner of the city was the Impoverished District that was run by street guilds and housed a Shrine of Flames.

    "We''re here," the guard announced with his haggard voice, sliding down his hood.

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    Dahlia looked up at the shop. No signboard. Blurry windows caked in dust. A dark interior. Cracks in the wooden planks making up the walls. A large difference to an inn that was right beside it with an alley in between, a building of stone with wooden support beams. A hanging sign creaked as passing wind made it swing back and forth, rubbing rusted metal against itself. The Ardent Socialite it read.

    Dahlia brought a thumb up to her lip. She recalled the laughing children around the fountain. It had made her smile. But that was because those children could afford smiles. She looked over the shabby dressmaker''s building again. Not everyone could afford smiles it seems. And there was only so much she could do for individual citizens.

    She kept up her hood as she observed the surroundings. This shop was the only one that didn''t stand out. One might consider it abandoned on first glance. Dahlia couldn''t help but admit that a dark seed of bias was embedded in her heart. It made her doubt the quality of work that could come from here. She sniffed, the air seemingly thick with perfume. No one was near the shop, making her wonder where the scent came from. She froze, squinting through the open doors of a veranda on the opposite end of the street. Silk drapes hung at the door''s sides. She flushed, averting her gaze.

    Arus moved to open the door to the dressmaker''s shop and Dahlia caught his arm. She pointed to the building opposite the shop, its size near twice that of the inn. "Is that¡­" she trailed off, frowning.

    "A brothel, yes," the guardsman replied, expression blank. "Our esteemed seamstress provides most of their dresses."

    "Sir L''Faleur," Dahlia hissed, glaring.

    "Your Majesty, they don''t only make revealing dresses if that''s what you''re worried about. It''s honest hard work, as I said before."

    Dahlia looked up at the worn down shop again. Then glanced back at the brothel behind. She sighed. Everyone had their own methods of filling their stomachs and maintaining a roof. Judging conditions was not her job. Her job was to improve her subject''s conditions as best she could. Right now, that meant keeping roads safe and allowing goods to be moved throughout the nation. And of course, giving patronage to shops that could use it.

    She shook her head, annoyed with herself for thinking of work when she was supposed to be out enjoying a half day off. This was her moment of respite. A moment where she could once again be a young dreaming girl. She let go of Arus'' arm and followed him inside. A bell rung as he opened the door.

    Dahlia crinkled her nose at the musty smell of the interior. Cobwebs were strung up at corners and old frilly dresses long out of fashion hung from racks, a layer of grey smoothed over the shoulders and collars as if someone had spread the dust along their surface as butter is lathered on bread with a knife.

    "Oh, it''s you," a feminine voice called from around a corner. She was short ¡ªshorter than Dahlia. She had a small round face and wore spectacles that didn''t fit her small nose and looked on the verge of sliding down. They probably had many a time, one of the lenses being cracked. The seamstress had a head of brown tied in a thin braid. She wore a chic white dress that fit her thin frame well, and made her seem rather lovely in fact.

    Dahlia gained a bead of confidence seeing her would be dressmaker be capable of dressing herself fashionably. But that didn''t change the state of the shop or its products. If cloth material was poorly maintained, the finished product would be a failure no matter the skill of the seamstress.

    "Lenuay," Arus said, offering a terse nod as if he were greeting a soldier.

    Lenuay squinted, holding up a lantern. "It really is you," she frowned. "I mean, I knew it was you. Your voice gave it away. Grr. Where''s Irus. He hasn''t come to see me in months," she said, throwing up an arm and pouting.

    So that''s how it is, Dahlia thought, smiling beneath her hood.

    "Irus is still at¡ª"

    "Arcaeus Peak, yes yes. Being important and all, protecting our esteemed princess." Arus coughed aloud. "Couldn''t give less Ashes," Lenuay humphed. "I''ll bet he''s found himself someone else and you''re just hiding it from me." She waved her arm. "Who''s that? A customer? Has the esteemed knight Arus L''Faleur found himself a woman he fancies? Or did you just pick her up from the building across the street?"

    The knight coughed again. Dahlia continued to smile, quite enjoying the interaction and not at all feeling insulted. Lenuay looked the shy type, but didn''t come off as such when speaking to Arus. "This here is¡ª"

    "Dally," Dahlia said, cutting her guard off and pulling down her hood to reveal her gold locks. "I need an engagement dress. And a wedding dress. Before the year''s end preferably."

    The seamstress narrowed her eyes. "And none of the shops on your way here appealed to your taste?"

    Arus coughed again. "I recommended your shop to my distant cousin here."

    Lenuay shrugged. She pulled over a stool and sat atop, feet hanging in air. She took out a sketchbook from a shelf and a charcoal pencil. "Right. Anything you had in mind, or should I decide for you, Lady Dally?"

    "Whatever makes me look beautiful," Dahlia said fiercely. "Not just beautiful, mind you. I mean beautiful. Something that can crack the hardest of shells. Because that''s just the¡ª" she cut herself off, turning away. Arus was supposed to be under the impression that this wedding was between her and the First Chancellor. Everything was supposed to be kept under wraps. She began chewing on her thumbnail.

    Right now, Azurus should be on his way to the capital with Odain under custody. Hopefully Eildred returns before then to orchestrate Adrian''s apprehension. The First Chancellor had many allies within the court, all of them brought together through religious zeal. A haphazard arrest without proper investigation from her best guards would only lead to strife within the palace.

    Dahlia also wondered if Azurus had actually received the order to arrest the Vicegerent. She hadn''t heard any reply from him. Roxanne Draumen''s betrayal was a difficult development to swallow. But Azurus had done what he thought fit. She could only trust his judgement.

    "¡­fits you better," Lenuay was mumbling. Dahlia hadn''t been paying attention. "Something darker could have a seductive charm, or it might just come out grim and clash with the color of your hair. White is best, I believe. Any opinions, my lady?"

    Dahlia''s attention was caught on an insect struggling against a web it''d gotten caught in. The question registered a few seconds late. "Hmm? Oh? Yes. White. If you think so." Lenuay wasn''t actually looking up. She head her neck bent low in what seemed an uncomfortable position, face mere inches from her sketchbook as she scribbled with intensity, stealing glances at Dahlia. She then stopped, peered, and blew on the pages to dust off excess black dust.

    "Would this work?" the seamstress asked, holding up her paper. Dahlia gasped. The woman had drawn two like images of her in two different dresses. Lenuay pointed with her pencil. "I think for the engagement, we''ll go with the one on the left. A tighter fit with a dragging dress length. Down here by your feet I''ll stitch together red rose patterns for a bit of flare. For the wedding itself, a sleeveless white and wider and frilly skirt with layers of light cloth for ease of movement and dancing. A bit plain, this, but it will allow your hair to steal the spotlight and keep gazes fixed on your face. And if I had to recommend, keep your neckline bare. A plain silver might work, but necklaces usually clash with plain dresses. Earrings would be fine, however. Also, the women across the street tell me they''re most frequently kissed on the neck and collarbones. I think keeping them bare has a certain appeal."

    Dahlia flushed, more so at the thought of Eildred''s scruffy face pressed against her neck rather than Lenuay''s shameless comment. She mutely nodded, heart pounding, thinking up how she would coax that mountain into marrying her.

    "Now then, just measurements and we''re done. Oh, and I need the address to send it to."

    "I''ll come check in a few cycles to pick it up," Arus cut in. Lenuay frowned at him but shrugged again, motioning Dahlia to follow her to a backroom to get measured.

    ***

    The streets were glazed with a deep gold of early evening when Dahlia left the shop. She pulled up her hood, smiling all the while and feeling light enough to fly. She started to hum again just as a hooded figure bumped into her. "Oof," she said, feeling something tug at her waist. A thief stealing her purse.

    Arus was already giving chase before she''d recovered. They''d barely gone a dozen steps when the thief was caught. He pulled a knife from the shadows of his cloak. Dahlia opened her mouth to warn her guard, but Arus had the situation under control.

    Something struck the back of Dahlia''s head.

    She fell forward, cheek hitting the road with a thump. Pain radiated from multiple points on her head. Her vision swam and tears gathered. A gag was shoved into her open mouth. Someone was on top of her, keeping her pinned and binding her arms.

    "Quick, drag''er inta the alley," a voice whispered.

    "My lady!" Arus cried, turning back with sword drawn.

    Dahlia screamed into her gag, pain befuddling her thoughts. She bit down on the gag as if that might remove it. She was pulled up and dragged away, knees and cheek throbbing. She pulled against her captors, blinking out tears. Two hooded men blocked the path between her and Arus.

    She was dragged closer to an alley between the inn and the building to its right side. Her captors suddenly let her go and she tripped over her own pulling momentum, falling to the ground again, wounding her kneecaps twice over. She whimpered as she tucked in her legs and tried standing with haste. Something warm sprayed onto her back and a bald man with thick arms collapsed beside her. Her binds were undone and four of her shadowing Guard surrounded her.

    Arus ran towards her, his blade gleaming with a red sheen that dripped on the stones, two men behind him lying face down and unmoving. "Your Majesty," he breathed, half his face seeming relieved while the scarred half with the milky eye seemed as menacing as ever.

    "What''s happening?" Dahlia asked, her voice cracking with the phlegm that''d backed up in her throat. Even as she asked, the scene unfolded before her eyes. People screaming as figures in hoods attacked without discrimination, stealing from and stabbing at anyone decently clothed. Flaming bottles were thrown into windows and houses roared to life. Bleeding children were thrown into the fountain, turning the crystalline water red.

    A dozen more of the Lotus Knights were on the street, slaying as many of these assailers as possible. "Your Majesty, stay behind me," Arus commanded. "We must return to the palace plateau."

    "But the city¡ª" she began. He already had her by the arm and was dragging her along, the other guards following. Exaltyron was lit aflame. Everything was happening in a dizzying blur as Dahlia ran forward, bruised knees screaming with every step. Her guards killed anyone coming at them with weapons in hand. They shoved aside citizens that were running alongside them seeking protection. Her people were suffering and she was running. She tugged against Arus'' grip but he held on to her tight. "The people," she managed to say through her quick breaths.

    Arus ignored her just as her protectors ignored anyone else, women and children alike, not stopping for a second for anyone in their path. Her life was more important than anyone else''s. She knew that. But it was wrong, what they did. Entirely unbecoming of knights. "Sir L''Faleur, I command you to stop!" Dahlia cried, nearly choking over her own words.

    "Commands refused," the knight bellowed, not turning to glance at her at all. He took a sharp turn and she stumbled, nearly falling. "The people won''t matter if you don''t exist. Your protection takes priority over all, my queen."

    "But¡ª" Dahlia began, coughing. She sucked air through her mouth, tears at the corners of her eyes, heart pounding. Her voice was drowned by screams and shouts all around her. Arus at last slowed as he approached the incline leading up towards the plateau. A handful more of her Guard were waiting there to receive her, long black cloaks veiling their blue uniforms. They surrounded her and escorted her up the road.

    Dahlia glanced back at the city, many rooftops aflame. Luckily the fires weren''t spreading yet. They''d been lit on individual structures. But the higher she got, the more fires she could see, the more crowds there were screaming at and fighting with each other. Armed men serving the city''s nobility formed ranks and pushed back the attackers while calming the crowds. They formed a perimeter and slowly began expanding it as they reclaimed lost ground.

    Dahlia stopped at the plateau''s top, looking down at her city in despair. "Where are the royal soldiers of the capital?" she cried, despite knowing it would take a while for them to mobilise and force their way through such dense chaos. Riots were breaking out wherever she could see. She caught sight of a white flag with a burning lotus upon it.

    "Flaming rebels," Arus spat.

    Dahlia closed her fists. This was supposed to be her break. A moment of breathing. It turned out as nothing but a foolish dream. How had the insurrection spread to the city without her knowledge?

    The unread reports on my desk¡­ There had to be something there. She''d made an error because she was too drunk on a young girl''s emotions. Or was it her fault from the beginning for underestimating the insurrection? Was this a deeper rooted issue than she''d originally thought? She''d reduced palace security, and half the city''s troops were outside with Eildred. No better chance would arrive for rioters and rebels to take advantage of.

    Dahlia smeared her tears against her cheeks as she turned around and marched back to the palace. Reports would be flooding in and decisions had to be made with haste. But her heart wasn''t wholly in it. A queen''s task was too burdening. Would the heavens not even allow her a half day''s worth of joy?

    She clasped her hands and closed her eyes, still walking forward with her guards around her. Eildred, come home. Please. I need you. I need you now more than ever.

 Chapter 68: Ambush (Book 2, Chapter 31)

    <u>Chapter 31 - Ambush</u>

    The weather had taken a turn for the worst. A cold current was passing through, heralding the beginning of a harsh winter. Soggy ground sapped away at every marching man''s strength just as easily as it''d absorbed rainwater. Eildred grit his teeth to stop them from chattering. He glanced back at the pitiful mess of some two hundred soldiers under his charge. White uniforms spotted with mud stains and dust from the road, gaunt expressions, morale dead, and visibly cold. They marched with slumped shoulders, leaning against their spears like travelling vagabonds. Some coughed, wet, throats full of phlegm. They needed a break.

    Eildred had pushed them hard, hoping to return to the capital within a half month. A nine day cycle had already passed and the group was only now nearing the Oakwood Forest. Eildred himself felt his strength waning. Riding on his horse did little to alleviate that. He''d worn his armor again, wary of possible insurrection parties. But surrounding air had chilled his plates, making it feel as if he were encased in a tomb of frost. His gloved fingers, wrapped tight around the reins of his horse, were cold and stiff. His toes as well could have used some time outside of his boots and before a fire.

    The horse''s hoofs sloshed on the muddy road. Grey skies darkened further as evening settled in. The air was thick with the smell of damp soil. Small rain drops tapped against Eildred''s armor. He grunted in annoyance as he led the soldiers into the shadow of a dark-yellow forest canopy. Here, the smell was that of wet and rotting leaves. A carpet of light brown paved the forest floor, providing meager protection from mud just as the remaining dying oak leaves would provide meager shelter from the rain.

    Better than nothing, Eildred thought. At least the trees would also stave off some of the cold night air. He held up a fist. "Make camp within the trees. Set up a perimeter, guards rotating every hour. I want every man resting well tonight." Sighs and mutters of relief followed afterwards. There was at least an hour left before dusk, but some early rest couldn''t hurt. The soldiers scrambled to unload pack horses and set up tents amongst small clearings within the shrubbery. Eildred dismounted and bound his horse to a tree. He walked around as his own tent was being set up, hoping to warm his toes with movement.

    Squads of men set to searching for firewood. They''d need to have the Flame''s blessing to find any after consecutive days of on and off rainfall. Much of the stock Lady Coraine had provided was already running low. She''d given good provisions as well, but what the men needed now was a hot meal and some time around a fire.

    Eildred peered through the trees, light fading, unsure of what it was he was even looking for. It was some four or five leagues to the other side in a straight line. He''d camped inside Oakwood Forest once before. It was some many years past. Lord Serene had taken his wife and newborn to explore the woodland and Queen Dahlia had accompanied with a baby Emeria. A better time when Madrivall was still alive and Xenaria seemed to have a bright future ahead.

    A better time. I''ll be damned if I don''t bring such bliss to this nation again. Eildred closed his fist and struck a tree. It shook, some leaves falling, a dull ache remaining on his knuckles. He was already failing at his task. He''d failed Theodore and Tilda. The Aegis Basin was now ruled by sea scourge. He''d left Dahlia alone to face some insurrection. A passable threat, likely, but Dahlia in her poor mental state would be worried.

    A passable threat? "When have I, Eildred Aegis, ever been an optimist?" he muttered between his teeth, a cloud arising from his hot breath and disappearing just as quick. Optimism was for the lazy. For the wishful. Hoping for a bright outcome was no different than gambling in a den owned by loan sharks. Eildred couldn''t depend on a sunny morning, thus ordering his soldiers to make camp earlier than normal so they could attain some much needed rest. Preparing for the worst outcomes was what kept the cogs of life turning without hitch.

    Imagination was a weapon, as Chamberlain Finral said. An insurrection of villagers was already an oddity. What is the worst possible scenario? He knelt down and inspected a wet leaf plastered against many others. Its surface was brown with rotting spots of black like a bead of corruption slowly spreading out. The worst possible scenario. An existing entity was pulling the strings from behind. Either a High House was rebelling, or Trillians were behind this. Trillians would be the worst outcome. Outright accusations of violence when they preached harmony and had so many followers could lead to a conflict of dangerous levels.

    "Flames!" Eildred spat. And he''d left Dahlia alone to deal with all of this? Why, because she''d asked so sweetly? Flames, but you''re a fool Eildred Aegis! He''d let his feelings get in the way of his job. He sniffed at the air, filling his nostrils with the smell of the forest. The light was fast in fading.

    Eildred rose to his feet and turned toward the camp. His tent had been erected next to his horse. A mere two campfires had been lit, likely utilising the last of the stored firewood. Dozens of soldiers huddled around it like a group of children marveling at something interesting they''d found. Spears and shields were resting against trees. Few had undone their sword belts as well. No perimeter had been set up. Eildred clicked his tongue. Soldiers of the capital were too used to peace.

    Clang!

    Eildred blinked. Something skittered before his feet. His right shoulder pauldron buzzed as if struck by something. The dullest of glints shown on a piece of metal before him. An arrowhead. His cold fingers found his sword pommel in an instant. The sound of drawing metal rung clear as he ripped it free of its sheath. "Enemy attack!" he bellowed, his commanding voice resounding through the trees. Crows cawed at the sudden sound, flocking out from the branches they''d been hiding in.

    The soldiers turned in his direction, mumbling to themselves, hardly reacting. Very few peered through the dark of the forest, swords half drawn. "I said enemy attack!" Eildred cried again, rushing back into camp. A shaft struck his back, bouncing off harmlessly. Another whistled past his ear, flying into camp and miraculously missing every man. It flew into a campfire. The soldiers were at last aroused from their stupor, scrambling to grab hold of weapons. A chain reaction followed and every man therefrom began preparing themselves.

    "No spears!" Eildred cried. They''d be useless within the dense trees. "Swords and shields only. Put out the flames at once." He could see a faint hope within their eyes die from that order. The sun was setting and the forest would soon be pitch black. Fires would give away their location and allow archers to continue firing. "Form two rings, shields up, a hundred men each. Stay together!"

    Some soldiers began swearing while others cowered, trembling. Eildred quickly bound a diamond shaped black shield to his left arm. Its pointed edge extended beyond the hand and doubled as a stabbing weapon. A shield carried by most Lotus Knights, though seldom used. He held his longsword before him with one hand, shield hand covering most of his face as he searched between trees with his eyes. The sun had all but set. Dark. Cold. Wet. It was going to be a messy fight.

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    A foul stench flowed from beyond the trees. Something akin to heinous body odor mixing with the smell of rotting leaves. For how many days have they been waiting for us? If they''d been waiting, then he was the target. This all but confirmed his suspicion. This was the Trillian faith''s doing. Remove the Captain of the Guard from her majesty''s side to weaken her.

    Eildred seethed. Shrubbery was bent and crushed as howling men charged the soldiers. A downpour began, further hindering everyone''s vision. Kill me, is it? "We''re not on a bloody ship!" he bellowed. He ran forward to meet his foes. He swung in a wide arc, cleaving a head clean in half. Blood splatter and rain looked little different in the encroaching darkness. And fallen gore felt no different than mud. "We are soldiers of Exaltyron! Oh swords of her majesty, show these curs what it means to challenge the honored White Coats on a fair battlefield!"

    Those words seemed enough. Eildred''s men roared with fury. And a fierce melee ensued. Eildred''s sword met little resistance as he slashed through bellies, severed limbs, and split heads apart. He breathed through his mouth, swallowing back rain water that filled his mouth. It tasted of iron and salt.

    There was little in the way of armor amongst these men. Little in the way of blades. Most carried clubs. Others carried hoes. Peasants? Eildred thrust through a round bellied man, the blade coming out the other side and piercing another that''d been close behind him. He lifted his shield to deflect a hoe bearing down on him, stabbing the attacker in the throat shortly after. The attacker fell to the ground and was trampled by many boots. If it was a gathering of peasants, the soldiers might live out the night yet.

    His optimism was met with calamity. Arrows flew forth from the darkness, one grazing his cheek. One struck a soldier''s shoulder beside him. Eildred shoved the man away before a club with nails could bludgeon the man. He then slashed through the attacker''s gut. The man squawked as his innards spilled out, hanging from his wound like a length of rope. Eildred severed his head just as another arrow struck his shield. Another attacker charged at him with meat cleaver in hand. He fell before Eildred could strike, an arrow protruding from his back.

    There were more enemies further inside the forest and they didn''t care about the peasant vanguard that''d been sent. The fodder was sent to tire the soldiers. A coordinated assault. Eildred wiped rain from his face. Calling for a retreat would hurt morale, but what choice did he have? "Retreat back and hold formation!" he called.

    The maneuver was slow, soldiers slowly stepping back to return to their hundred man circles. Men with shields stood at the van, blocking projectile fire. The night would be long.

    Five leagues to the other side. Could they go around the forest? Seven leagues west, or if they chose the longer route, about eighteen leagues east. No. They risked being surrounded on open ground with so few men. The forest was their best bet. A mere two hundred soldiers would have an easier time hiding.

    Eildred couldn''t have his soldiers stay here. They needed to move and fast. The melee continued, attackers wearing mail or leather armor now joining the peasant class. Arrow fire had slowed significantly. Eildred let a club swing come down on him, its edge bouncing off of his plate. He backhanded the attacker with his shield, a horrid crunch sounding as metal struck face. His soldiers stomped on the man, killing him. "Rearguard gather supplies and move west!" Eildred ordered, ducking beneath a short sword. He swung down, sword edge tearing into a collarbone and getting stuck halfway through cleaving the man in two. Eildred rent the blade, dark liquid spraying out.

    The forest was near pitch black now. Rain continued. Breaths came out in denser clouds. The attack slowed. Logical. Continuing a melee in such poor vision was dangerous for both sides. The rearguard pushed pack horses to their left, everyone soon accompanying them. Rain made hearing enemy movement difficult, but also deafened the allied march. The foul odor hardly remained, a smell of spilt blood and wet leaves now much stronger.

    Eildred kept his shield arm up before his face even though no arrows came. Exhaustion forced him to put it down eventually. His fingers were still cold despite the battle and water was quickly filling his armored boots. He jogged to the front of his soldiers as they marched westward through the trees. A few others behind him coughed violently. One had an arrow stuck in his shoulder, head hanging low as he followed his allies with lumbering steps.

    A really long night. Eildred wondered if the morning would fare any better. His empty stomach gnawed at him. Of all times to feel hunger, this was the worst. He trudged forward, wondering if his own horse had been brought along with the supplies. The rain slowed before coming to an eventual halt. Eildred held up his fist to signal a stop. Flickering torchlights poked through the cracks between oak trees. He waited for them to disappear before resuming the march.

    Crows cawed from the left-behind skirmish site. Shadows moved within the dark, whether birds, swaying branches, or enemies, Eildred could not tell. His heart pounded in anticipation, eyes flitting and arms flinching at the slightest movements of dark shapes before him. He could hardly feel his toes any longer. Both feet were soaked. His armor weighed down on his shoulders as dread crept between the plates and chipped at muscle fibres.

    Twigs snapped to Eildred''s right. He held his fist up again, peering into dense shrubbery. The shrubs rustled and feral howls echoed between the trees again as enemies with short spears jumped out, their faces plastered with mud and leaves. Eildred''s heart leapt to his throat as his cold limbs struggled to react in time. Two spear points found him, both skidding off of his breastplate. Two soldiers in white fell as they were impaled. Another stumbled, gurgling on blood before a spear went through his eye.

    Eildred roared and charged his two assailers, colliding into them. Both of them slipped and fell. He stabbed one while he crushed the other''s chest with the heel of his boot. Another melee began. Screaming soldiers, clashing irons, splintered mail and torn coats. Eildred hacked at anything that moved before him, cutting down as many branches as he did limbs. A screaming enemy charged him and he plunged his blade through the open mouth, swinging it to the side to tear open the man''s jaw.

    More spears attacked him from the side. He blocked them with his shield, gasping as one slipped through a gap within his armor. Allied soldiers hacked away at his attackers. Eildred lumbered forward, swinging wildly, sword arm burning from the pain of overuse. He stumbled into a small clearing, falling to one knee for respite. White Coats stumbled after him, their once pristine uniform likely dyed red. Or brown. It all looked black in the dark.

    Screams ended. Some whimpered in pain. Others coughed violently. Another ambush survived. Eildred rose to his feet, gasping just like many others around him. His wound seemed shallow.

    How much of the night has passed? Probably not even a fifth. "Do a head count of how many we have remaining," he ordered, breathing hard. "We rest for an hour and then march once again. Patch up the wounded and give out food."

    The soldiers obeyed. Luckily, the rearguard hadn''t seen much action. Pack horses hadn''t bolted. Eildred leaned against a tree as a soldier brought him some cold jerky and soggy biscuits. Burn it all! The forest was teeming with enemies. The weather was poor. The men were tired and sick. At this rate, they would never make it out, let alone making it to the capital.

    "Lord Captain, we have a hundred and eighty-two men with us. We counted twice."

    Eildred nodded. More than half the night remained and a near tenth of the soldiers were already dead. He swallowed down the tough jerky. It felt as if it got stuck at the base of his throat. He kept watch on the forest as the soldiers rested, if standing in cold mud could even be called resting. And then he ordered the march to resume, suddenly realizing that he had no knowledge of his bearing. The last skirmish had thrown out everyone''s sense of direction.

    "Does anyone have a compass?" Eildred called. The men shuffled, shrugged, and shook their heads.

    Flames! Now what? Eildred ground his teeth, pushing aside branches and kicking at bushes in his way as he led his men to heavens knew where. Stuck at his wit''s end, the Queen''s Guard captain began doing something he hadn''t dared done before. He began hoping. Hoping that there were fewer enemies than believed. Hoping he was marching in the right direction. Hoping morning would bring fairer weather and help distinguish east from west.

    Maybe being an optimist wasn''t so bad after all. It kept the embers of his spirit from burning out at least.

 Chapter 69: Outmaneuvered (Book 2, Chapter 32)

    <u>Chapter 32 - Outmaneuvered</u>

    Another corpse wrought field. Azurus punched at the blackened ground. A clear sky mattered little if nothing lived to bask in sunlight. The insurrectionists had gone through burning fields and crops wherever they could, laying waste to the year''s harvest and torching farmhouses as they went.

    It was the same as the first incident. These men had no information on the orchestrator of the attacks. The vast majority were peasants blindly following foolish lords who blindly followed orders from unknown figures. A chain of people using eyes that have stared at the sun for too long to think instead of trying to use their heads.

    Azurus rose to his feet, kicking at the ground, sending ash and soil clumped by blood flying several feet forward. A sickening intuition told him that this wasn''t the end of it. He knew there were more enemies scattered across Xenaria. But he had no information to go by. He''d hunted down the perceived group of traitors as Queen Dahlia commanded. No new orders had come through and his mission at Heira was ended.

    Dahlia had reduced palace security to quell what at first had seemed nothing more than a farce. But this farce was too well coordinated and had led to the deaths of the Draumens. There was a chance the crown didn''t have a full grasp on the situation.

    Or was her majesty''s maneuver somehow predicted? That would be the worst case scenario. If this insurrection was meant to pose a threat to the crown, then a reduction in palace security¡­ "Flames!" Azurus breathed. He looked around the torched fields. The knights were digging pits to bury the fallen, looking like depictions of the reaper come to take souls of the dead. Digging a mass grave would take the better part of the day. If his fears were true, then they needed to make haste to Exaltyron.

    Something nudged Azurus from behind. He turned to find Eleanoire with her head lowered. His only friend amidst the grim situation he found himself in. He stroked her head with his armored hands, receiving a snort from her as she sniffed about. "I know girl. I want to leave this smoky stench behind as well," he whispered, pressing his helmed head against hers. Dark spots of drying blood stained her fur as it did his armor. Azurus clutched her mane and looked her in the eye through his raised visor. "Can you ride through the night?"

    Eleanoire let out another snort, a vague cloud arising from her hot breath. Azurus rubbed her neck. I''m sorry to put you through this. The capital was still more than a half month''s ride away. The black mounts of the Guard were bred and trained for the direst of situations, but every creature had its limits, these horses being no exception.

    Azurus turned to the knights. He stretched out his arm. "Move those arms faster!" Many heads turned to him. He couldn''t leave bodies these bodies unburied. The last group had been left on an open field away from the road. Carrion eaters would see to them. But this was a farmland. If someone passed by here with the corpses still remaining, it could give rise to pestilence. With winter approaching, disease was the last thing anyone needed. "Bury these people as fast as possible. We rest in the evening and ride through the night!" Azurus thought he heard a groan or two. Not even the most disciplined could escape their human emotions.

    Azurus sought out Orne, his second in command. "Captain," the man said with a terse nod, stabbing the ground with a spade.

    "Send out a few men to find the owners of these fields," Azurus ordered. "If the farmers have been slain, then that''s that. If not, compile a list of names. The families will need to be compensated come this situation''s resolution."

    Orne nodded again and handed the spade off. Azurus inhaled through his teeth, and stabbed at the ground with a loud grunt, spooning out small mounds of dirt with the fury of a bandit seeking buried treasure. He moved his arms as if waiting for the ground to reveal the enemy he sought, the enemy that had begun this ordeal and sentenced so many innocents to die by his hand. If only there''d been some way of preventing this.

    He needed to take his mind off of this mess for just a moment. He put his full attention on digging, breathing with a rhythm as if he were practicing sword forms. It allowed him to empty his mind and enter a lull. A lull he sought in the heat of battle, but couldn''t find in his last two skirmishes.

    The last two massacres, he thought, ending his tranquil state of mind and cursing in his head for doing so. Maybe if he had something more personal to focus his attention on, like that of Emeria''s summer smile, or the sound of her sweet laughter. But that only brought pain in his heart and slowed his arms. He''d been separated from her for so long. Azurus shook his head and just kept digging, looking more and more forward to resting for a moment during evening with each mound of dirt shoveled. At least then, he could have some time to sit down and maybe study Chronary. Perhaps, if he could become proficient enough in using this strange magic, happenings like this could be prevented. Chronary, after all, in theory could achieve anything with the right runic phrasing and sacrifice.

    A way to prevent these happenings. A way to prevent the loss of lives in wars. If such a phenomenon could be found, then wars might just come to an end entirely.

    ***

    Azurus kept the knights riding alongside the Nhilm River, ensuring the horses were getting enough rest and water to continue without breaking. Exaltyron at last came into view as a dark spec on the horizon on the seventeenth morning since the last skirmish. No further enemies were met along the road, but there were next to no travellers or merchants either. Around this time of year, Xenaria''s roads should have been teeming with merchant caravans transporting food to various cities and villages or performing troupes seeking patronage at a large inn or manse for the season.

    Azurus stopped the contingent during midday for a rest. He dismounted and left Eleanoire to nibble on dying grass as he made his way down to the bank. Pebbles at the side bore a wet sheen of melted frost from the night afore. Azurus removed his helm to find a shimmering reflection of his own sweat matted face and hair within the moving current. He splashed icy water on his face and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. It''d grown longer than he liked keeping it. Longer than Emeria preferred he keep it too. Normally, she would cut his hair for him. She was surprisingly good at it.

    Azurus stood and stretched out. His rear and lower back were developing cramps from the endless days of riding. He peered at the blue horizon. About a little over a hundred miles remaining. A day and half''s ride at the current pace. Emeria likely wouldn''t be there to meet him. But he might finally find some closure on the state of Xenaria.

    Azurus marched back to his horse as other knights washed their faces or set up small fires to boil drinking water. He thought he saw movement down the length of the riverbank. He squinted, holding a hand over his eyes to shade them. The figure seemed to be getting smaller. Azurus mounted for a better vantage from which to see. There was a person there. He was sure of it. "Orne!" he shouted, turning his head to look for the man.

    Orne rode up alongside two others behind him, helm still on but visor raised. "You called, Captain?"

    Azurus nodded, pointing down the bank. "There''s a person there. Accompany me." He steered Eleanoire down the bank and let her gallop to this figure. It was a man in a ragged cloak that seemed torn by the jaws of a hungry dog. He held a long staff for road travel. Alongside him was an ass with dark fur and thick legs, its back bearing many items from clothes to ironware. A peddler.

    The peddler was tugging on his animal''s leash, trying to force it go faster. Pointless, Azurus thought. The ass was burdened enough. And they weren''t built to run in the first place. Its master''s face paled as the knights rode up. He scratched at his unruly grey and white beard while backing off, tripping over his own feet and falling on his rear. He scrambled to his feet and tried running, leaving his staff on the ground.

    Orne lashed out with the reins of his horse and galloped ahead of Azurus. "Ho there, Roadmaster!" the old knight called. "We are Queensmen not highwaymen. Our captain but wishes a word and nothing more." He reared his horse before the peddler to cut off his path.

    Azurus shook his head as he dismounted. "I am Captain Azurus of the Lotus Knights," he greeted. "You would be?"

    "Gilm, sir. Master Gilm the peddler," the man said quickly. "Just an honest peddler moving to the next village over to earn a hot meal and maybe a room at an inn."

    "Honest," Azurus echoed.

    "Yes good sir. I have nothing of suspicion in my wares. You may check them if you wish."

    Azurus waved his hand. "There are next to no merchants on the road. No travellers, performers, or tinkers. And yet you''re braving a journey through the wilderness all alone. You''re either suspicious or stupid."

    "No sir. Not suspicious. But foolish perhaps, yes," Gilm said, still talking quickly, trembling like a just born fowl learning to use its legs. "The merchant guilds await her majesty the queen. I don''t know much. Haven''t seen much neither, sir. But the inns and taverns are rife with talk of rebels roaming the lands and with the merchants sitting still, I can only believe it to be true."

    "Mm," Azurus said, nodding knowingly. He crossed his arms to hide his clenching fists. His intuition had been correct then. The groups he had hunted were not the only insurrection party. And he had half a hunch that not all of them were peasants either. If whoever was doing this was planning conquest, killing large numbers of farmers would not be in their interest. "And so here you are, braving death to extort villagers now that there is no competition?"

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "Extort, sir? Never. This Gilm wouldn''t raise his prices. Well, maybe salt. With winter approaching, distant villages¡ª"

    "Save it," Azurus said with another wave of his hand. "You''ve a right to raise prices if you''re the only seller and risk your life to carry your goods." Azurus fished out two coins from his purse tied to the small pack at Eleanoire''s side. Two gold quarters. Gilm was a lucky peddler it seemed. He flicked them over, flickering light flashing in a dozen directions as the coins flipped through the air then fell to the greying sedge before the peddler''s feet. "We''ve come down from the Nhilm. Haven''t met any armed forces along the way. You should find a village perhaps a dozen or so miles away from the river on either side of it. Make haste and find yourself an inn to spend the winter with that money. No need to travel with your life at risk. Good day, Master Gilm," Azurus finished with a nod.

    The peddler fished the coins out from between the tall grass, gasping as he confirmed their color. "But s-sir," he stammered as Azurus mounted again. "Captain Azurus, sir. I c-cannot take this. This is far too much for the likes of me. And I don''t have anything of this much value to return."

    "This isn''t my charity, Master Gilm," Azurus said in a commanding voice. "This is her majesty''s coin. I only do my duty as a knight of the realm. I don''t need anything in return."

    "Sir, I insist," Gilm said. "Anything is fine. It would weigh on my mind to have not given something. It''s not much but I have some silks that might interest you. Nothing half as valuable as what you''ve paid but maybe a trinket to keep as a charm or give as a gift."

    Give as a gift. Azurus sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn''t bought any souvenirs for Emeria and he was likely to miss her eighteenth birthday. "Then give me a pendant or a circlet if you''ve got one."

    Gilm nodded and bowed twice over, mumbling to himself. He rummaged through the pack carried by the ass, fishing out a circlet with blue gemstone flowers. "Here. This ought to do it. The chain is of silver but the flowers are mere colored rocks I happened by on a riverbank a dozen fortnights ago. Gave it to a gem cutter and she fashioned them right well for me."

    Azurus took the circlet, a smile touching his lips. Emeria hadn''t been too happy when gifted flowers a few years back, but she had kept one in her hair until it''d withered. She might not be impressed by the circlet, but she was sure to keep wearing it. She wouldn''t waste his gift. He imagined how she might look with it, lips curling further. "This will do just well, Master Gilm. Good day a second time."

    The peddler bowed again. Azurus and the three others returned to the main group. A lone horseman was quickly approaching the contingent from the direction of Exaltyron. His horse was black. One of the few scouts sent ahead of the knights to keep an eye out for enemies in their path.

    "Report! Report!" the scout cried just as Azurus reached the main camp. "Report for Captain Azurus. Cavalry southwest of us about ten times our number. Flags bear the silver eagle of High House Serene."

    Azurus frowned. The duke''s soldiers this far from their own territory? Southwest of the knights would be towards the east. A great dust cloud was rising from that direction ¡ªthe kind kicked up by thousands of hooves. Had Lord Serene sent aid to quell the insurrection? But then why that many riders? Cavalry would get the job done swiftly, but Arcaeus Peak needed its horses to keep watch on the border with Tarmia. Whatever it was, they were sure to have more information than he had at that moment. "Another hour of rest!" he ordered. "We ride to join the duke''s soldiers after that!"

    ***

    Azurus walked into the Serene encampment. They only seemed to have stopped for a short rest seeing as how few tents had been set up. They were lightly armored and their steeds were mostly comprised of the desert breed. Lord Serene''s fastest mounts and he''d sent them away from the border. Was Xenaria''s situation really so dire right now?

    "Azurus!" a familiar feminine voice shouted. He turned to see a beaming Elizia running toward him. She didn''t slow at all and pressed herself up to his cold armor. He returned her embrace, happy to see a kindred face. "It''s been so long," she said.

    He opened his mouth to speak, to ask how she''d been and what was going on, but the first word to come from his mouth was "Emma?"

    Elizia pulled away, giving a teasing giggle. "That''s the first thing you ask me? You must really miss her. She''s in Arcaeus, safe behind its walls. How have you been?"

    Azurus gave a sigh, unsure himself if he was relieved that Emeria was safe, or if it''d been a sigh of disappointment that she hadn''t snuck out with Elizia. "I''ve been well. For the most part anyway. But¡­"

    "This strange rebellion has your thoughts, right?" she asked, reading his expression.

    He nodded. Elizia seemed different. Almost as if she occupied more space with her presence. Her posture carried confidence and she stood ¡ªAzurus frowned, touching the top of her head, her brown hair bound in a tail at the back. "You''re almost as tall as I am." She looked much more like the duchess now.

    "So I noticed," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Are you next going to tell me I''m more beautiful too like half of the garrison''s new recruits?"

    Azurus allowed himself a laugh. He''d missed Elizia''s gibes. But she really had gotten much lovelier than he recalled. "Still not half as pretty as Emma," he countered, hoping to catch her off guard.

    Elizia snorted. "How would you know? Maybe she''s grown ugly and fat in the few months you haven''t seen her." Azurus did nothing but smile, causing her to scowl and shake her head. "She really misses you too. Enough about that. What''s the current situation?"

    "I was going to ask you that. I''ve destroyed two insurrection parties thus far. Both of them didn''t number more than two thousand. Both of them were mostly comprised of peasants without armor or proper weapons."

    Elizia nodded. "They''re moving around fast if you haven''t encountered any more. Our group met with a force of a few hundred on our way here. They were well armed actually and didn''t seem peasants at all. Their leaders had no answers to give. Something about a figure in a hood approaching them with orders and promise of riches to which they obeyed. I''ve no doubt mercenary bands are going to take advantage of this situation and start joining whichever side has control. And right now, that isn''t us."

    "Are you on your way to reinforce the capital then?" Azurus asked.

    "No. Father has tasked me and other cavalry commanders with putting an end to this madness." Elizia turned around. "Faren, bring me a map," she ordered. A middle age soldier ¡ªElizia''s second by his uniform and lighter colored grey cloak¡ª approached and spread out a regional map on the dry grass of the ground, holding out the sides so it wouldn''t fold up or blow away.

    "The scouts have just returned, my lady," Faren was saying, as Elizia knelt before the map. "There seems no immediate threat to Exaltyron."

    She nodded. "This whole situation is a mess. I want to get this done with and return to the garrison soon." She pointed to the edge of the map which barely cut past the Nhilm River. "A large part of the insurrection is occurring here in the vast farmlands south of the Black Marshes. Nothing but villages for miles in any direction there. No proper cities or soldiers to keep the area in check. Father has sent the rest of House Serene''s horses to deal with it all. Though if they''re moving as fast and with as much coordination as we suspect, this could get out of hand."

    "Hold on. All of your cavalry? What of the border?" Azurus asked.

    "Our watch is spread thin with many gaps," Elizia said grimly. "Which is why I want to return soon."

    "But Emma¡­"

    "Rest assured, Sir Azurus," Faren said. "Arcaeus Peak is nigh impregnable so long as Lord Serene is there to command it. And winter approaches. The only way to fell it is to siege it for months and starve those inside. I doubt the Empire will be fool enough to risk a winter camped outside our walls."

    "It''s troubling nonetheless to leave our borders unwatched," Elizia said. "Empire soldiers could try crossing the Cinder River and pillaging from the farmlands here, assuming these insurrectionists haven''t taken everything already. They''ve got to be offering more than mere riches if they can turn the likes of House Draumen to betray their loyalty to the crown."

    Azurus'' eyes went wide. "What?" he hissed, glaring at his friend, fingers twitching with the desire to hold his sword. "What do you mean by betray, El? Answer me straight!"

    She frowned at him. "They were your own words," she said slowly. "You killed Lady Roxanne for being a part of the¡ª"

    "Where did you here this nonsense?" Azurus howled, trembling.

    "A missive from the crown. Her majesty sent us your report on the matter. Sir Draumen left his position as a Queen''s Guard shortly after."

    My report? "Flames! Eternal Flames burn it all! Lady Roxanne was, she was," he screamed incoherently, tugging at his hair. "She was the sweetest woman I knew. She doted on me like her own. Just like your mother did to us. It felt like mine. It felt real," Azurus said, his voice quieting to a whimper. "It felt like I had a family to call my own, a warm home to return to every night," he wept. "Why would I kill them? I found their manor burnt and their bodies hung from a tree. Her youngest''s body was found as charred remains within the manor. Retaliation for remaining loyal, for not joining this rebellion. Someone''s twisted my words."

    Elizia stared with parted lips. "Emma was right all along. She insisted that you wouldn''t kill a family. Not when they had children. It only would''ve made sense to capture them if they really had betrayed¡­ Faren, send a missive to my father at once. And send multiple riders. If Azurus'' letter was intercepted and changed, then only the Flames might know how deep this conspiracy runs." Elizia held Azurus by the head. "You can cry if you want, but not now. Gather yourself. You''re a knight of the realm, and the realm needs you now. Needs all of us to answer the call of duty."

    Azurus hid his face in his hands. "How can I not cry? I''ve slain farmers. I''ve split them apart as easily as swinging through targets made of straw. I failed to protect Lady Roxanne and now all of Xenaria, Sir Draumen included, must believe I killed her. I''ve failed entirely as a knight, El."

    "You fail when you give up, Azurus," she insisted, pulling apart his hands and fixing him with a fierce gaze. She then pointed back on the map, its edges flapping now that Faren no longer held it. "Look here. I was sent to protect the capital from a large insurrection force that was supposed to be coming down from the west. We thought they were approaching Exaltyron, given that the city is only halfway manned with Sir Aegis outside with half the city''s soldiers. But the enemy seems to have moved further south. I''m thinking maybe Qalydon, since Lord Coraine has a mass of wealth to plunder from. But my scouts say they''ve been camped around Oakwood Forest and have been amassing more numbers there."

    Azurus frowned. "Slow down, El," he said as he wiped his face. "Captain Eildred is away from her majesty? But then, with half the Queen''s Guard with me, her majesty is poorly guarded. Why would the captain leave her side?"

    Elizia blinked as if she expected him to know the answer. "Oh, right. You wouldn''t know. The island of Kovar had been overtaken by pirates. Queen Dahlia asked him to aid High Lord Coraine in retaking it. But¡­ It''s been nearly two months. Sir Aegis should have been on route to return if he hasn''t returned already."

    Azurus stared hard at the map for a moment. He let out a gasp as realization struck him. "Elizia¡­" he breathed. "They know. They know our every move, where we are and near to perfection on where we will be. If Eildred were to return from Qalydon, the shortest path to the capital is through the narrow road within the Oakwood. If our enemies are there¡­"

    "He''s the target!" Eilzia said, wide eyed. She clenched fistfuls of dead grass in her hands. "They know her majesty will be damaged and severely weakened with his loss. We have to go. We have to go now! You return to her majesty and inform her on the matter."

    "No!" Azurus said. "Not when it''s my mentor. Sir Aegis near raised me. You said there''s no immediate threat surrounding Exaltyron right? Then the Queen''s Guard will accompany you to the Forest. It''s only a few days ride from the city anyway. We''ll break Captain Eildred out and return to Exaltyron. We can then organize our intel and proceed."

    Elizia nodded. "And then end this madness for good."

    "And then end this madness for good," Azurus agreed, fingers curled around the pommel of his blade.

 Chapter 70: Rescue (Book 2, Chapter 33)

    <u>Chapter 33 - Rescue</u>

    Eildred swished around a mouthful of cold water. He spat out what seemed like liquid rust, a lingering taste of iron left on his tongue. Before him, a soldier lay on a carpet of rotting leaves, a hideous gash in his side, chest rising and falling like he''d just finished a hard run. Another soldier knelt next to him, pressing a dirty rag to the wound to staunch the bleeding, likely doing the injured man no favor.

    Beside Eildred, sitting on the same dead log as him, were two others, both hunched forward, one with his sword buried two inches in the ground, and the other wrapping cuts on his arm with a bandage. All around, White Coats lounged in the wet mess, either sitting with their backs to a tree or rummaging through allied and enemy corpses for anything that could be used as nourishment or medical equipment. Eildred did a head count with his drooping eyelids, near two full days now since he''d last had a chance to close them for a good hour.

    Forty three remained. Forty three soldiers of the original two hundred that had been with him. Perhaps only five or six of them had no injuries. It was like looking into the medical tents of a military encampment built a mere half mile from the sight of a vicious war. Only, there were no physics to nurture the men back to good Health.

    Eildred''s own breath was growing more ragged by the day. His limbs were weakening and his sight poor. He''d have been long dead if it weren''t for his armor, but now, it weighed on his shoulders and chained his feet to the ground, making him consider discarding it. His sides stung with slight movements. Many a blade had found its way through the gaps in his plates. His dauntless black armor was now painted brown and dark red. It wasn''t any different from the White Coats. The royal soldiers of the capital looked as if their uniforms had always been brown.

    Eildred scratched beneath his chin. His beard had grown unruly in the last half month. Half a month. Have we really been in this death trap for that long? Half a month inside Oakwood Forest, surrounded. The pack horses had been lost long ago. Eildred''s own black mare was gone as well. Precious little food and water remained, each soldier holding on to their own meager rations. Those without water snapped branches and licked frost off of them. Some even scooped out brown snow from the ground. Desperation was driving them mad. They had a few days left at most. A few days before their misery came to an end. Not even the Thundersword could save them now.

    Where even are we, Eildred wondered, looking up at the blue sky through barren oak branches. They hadn''t made any progress to the forest''s edges. Sure, using the sun to get a sense for position had provided some hope in the first few days, but constant night raids from their enemies always threw them off course, driving them away from their goal. And the attackers were no longer peasants. These were trained and armed soldiers carrying thick wooden shields, wearing shirts of mail, and moving with a vague semblance of cohesion when attacking. Each and every time, Eildred had taken charge, rampaging in the vanguard and slaying as many as he could, hoping his back would inspire his soldiers to fight on despite their hopeless situation. And fight they had. But limits had been reached, numbers had been culled, and strength of will dwindled.

    The Thundersword. He snorted. A string of unforgivable failures all culminating in an incapability to lead some two hundred men safely back home. So much for the strongest knight of the realm. So much for the queen''s pillar and a bastion of Xenaria.

    If he had but one wish, it would be to see Dahlia''s face again.

    No.

    It would be to hear her laugh as a morning sun caressed her supple cheeks.

    No.

    It would be to spend an afternoon in the garden with her, drinking tea and staring into her light green eyes while under the shade of a garden house. If he had but three wishes instead of one. Did he even have one?

    "He''s not breathing," the soldier in front of Eildred said. He pressed two fingers to the laying man''s neck. "No pulse." He pulled the soaked rag away to reveal a pool of blood before his knees. The soldier slumped back and threw the rag aside. A yellowed leaf fell from the tree he sat beneath.

    Crows cawed, eyeing their precious meals from twisted tree limbs above, waiting for the soldiers to leave. Waiting to feast on the dead or the dying. Eildred''s eyelids drooped. He slumped forward, cold and just desiring a rest. A really long rest. He thought to let darkness embrace him. But it didn''t happen. He was instead embraced by Dahlia''s radiance. There she was, standing two feet away. He called out to her. She didn''t answer. He touched her. She turned her head, lips parting, speaking silent words. I need you.

    "I need you too," he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her. She held him tight, gripping his hair.

    "I hate you!" Dahlia screamed into his ear. Eildred stumbled back, staring wide eyed at her twisted and enraged face. "I hate you!" she repeated, voice hoarse. "You failed me. Abandoned me, and left this nation to burn. I hate you and every fibre of your being. I wish you''d have never existed. I wish¡ª"

    Eildred''s eyes snapped open. Nothing had changed. A dead soldier still lay before him. Two more still sat on the log beside him. Every crow was still in the same position, impatient black eyes leering. Only, Eildred''s heart pounded. He feared Dahlia''s scorn. Feared her wrath. Feared her curses. She wasn''t the type to do anything embodying those words. But what if she became like that after his passing? What if she broke and lost her mind, falling prey to the vultures already surrounding her. Vultures he was tasked with shielding her from.

    What happened that day? Why did she call me into her room? Eildred looked at his hands. His leather gloves were worn, both index fingers sticking out and the palms peeling off. What had Dahlia been expecting, closing the door behind her and laying on her bed with her dress rolled past her knees? She couldn''t possibly have had feelings for him. But he wanted to know. He dared to hope that she might have thought for a moment about him as more than just her guard. I''ll ask her. Flames! If I ever get back, I''ll bloody gather the courage and ask her what that moment had meant.

    That was if he ever got back.

    Eildred stood. Grim faces looked up to him. "How many of you have a loved one back at home?" he asked.

    Silence.

    "How many!" he barked. The soldiers blinked. One raised his hand. Then another. Followed by all of them save for the one sitting before Eildred.

    "I''m an orphan. But he had two sons with an inn maid," the soldier said, pointing to the dead man before him. The pale face was refreshingly young.

    Eildred squeezed his eyes and hands. "How many of you would like to go back home?" he asked, deep voice booming. Everyone stared at him like a group of oblivious children. "How many of you would like to embrace your wives and see them smile? How many of you would like to kiss your mothers and daughters and sons? I asked how many?"

    "Burn it all!" the sitting soldier said. "I don''t have anybody waiting for me. All my friends are dead. But if you''re asking me to fight, Lord Thundersword," he said, getting to his feet, "then Burn me to Ashes, but I''ll fight!"

    "As will I," said another.

    "Don''t count me out neither," said a one eyed man, bandages wrapped around the other eye.

    One by one, they all stood, grim still, cheeks sunken, and legs trembling with weakness. But their eyes were no longer hollow. Fire burned in them again. Fires fueled by one last spark of emotion. They were ready to burn out with a final furious blaze. Eildred drew his sword. He let the sound of drawing metal ring in the air for a long moment. He inhaled deep. "To the Ashes with our enemies!" he bellowed. Crows cawed but the cries of the forty-two silenced them and sent them flying away. "We will not stop for rest. We will not stop for the wounded. But we will kill without discrimination! We will slaughter any who stand in our way! We will defy the odds! Every man will fight for himself. We shall greet each other beyond this wall of trees and we will make our bloody way home!"

    Another round of howls. No one cared for discretion any longer. No one cared for remaining hidden. One last burst of strength. One last fight. That was all Eildred thought of. All any of his soldiers could muster the courage to face. And a damn long fight that was going to be.

    He marched out, uncaring for the direction, peering into the winter woods, snow and leaves crunching beneath his steps. He breathed out through his teeth and breathed in the hot air of his own breath. He shoved aside low hanging branches, snapping them. With each step, his armor grew heavier, now only held up by the sheer force of determination.

    He then saw the first set of enemies. Two stood watch with low hanging eyelids burdened by the weight of exhaustion. The rest were lying down asleep wrapped in dirty cloaks. A group of night raiders. Eildred didn''t slow. He didn''t coordinate an attack or order his men to surround the camp. He marched forward. He directed his wrath towards them. And then he ran, screaming, the forty-two following his lead.

    The dozing guards of the enemy camp finally stood up. "Enemy atta¡ª" one managed to say before Eildred cleaved his jaw in twain. The second watcher had a sword halfway drawn but his hand was severed from his wrist. Enemy soldiers stirred awake but the White Coats were already on them, thrusting down and executing each and every one before arms could be held.

    Eildred screamed as he plunged his sword into the chest of a lying man, pulled out and then cut off the head of another that had just sat up, his mouth agape in bewilderment as the head fell and rolled a foot away. Blood mixed with the brown and white snow. It splattered against tree trunks and soaked blanketing cloaks.

    And then all was still.

    Forty-two men stood with weapons red and breaths haggard. Eildred knelt and wiped his weapon with an enemy cloak. "We march!" he ordered, moving along in whatever direction. And the White Coats obeyed.

    ***

    Patches of soldiers surrounded Oakwood Forest. They''d heard the rumbling of approaching horses. Elizia at first thought her enemies to be scattering. But they were gathering instead to form a resistance. Against her light cavalry, it might have worked, assuming she ordered her horses to recklessly charge. She had no need of doing that.

    The Lotus Knights were breaking toward them with Azurus at their helm. Arrows rained down. Not a single rider fell. Such a heavily armored unit could not be slowed by arrows. Nor could a few quickly put together lines of pikes halt their charge.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Elizia turned to her second. "Faren take half our lances and go west of the forest. Route any that stand watch and do your best to not let them gather."

    "As my lady commands," Faren nodded, steering his horse away.

    "Watch your back!" Elizia called after him. "The forest stretches for many miles." He waved an arm in response. She turned to the remainder of her soldiers. "The rest on me towards the right." She nudged Valor''s side and the horse sprinted off, thundering hooves of twenty-five hundred more mounts following after her. Azurus had left devastated enemy lines in his wake, uncaring to chase them around the forest''s perimeter. He led his knights to the treeline and ordered them to dismount, binding the horses to the barren trees before disappearing into the thick of them. He was trusting Elizia to watch the mounts for him.

    Elizia split her unit into a further half, riding at the head of an archery squadron sent first to pepper enemies from the side. She marked each enemy she aimed at, not wasting any of her arrows. These men had proper arms and were not at all the peasants she''d expected to face. She didn''t hold herself back, knowing she was facing combatants. Whoever was planning this was sparing little in an attempt to kill the captain of the Guard.

    The second split of Elizia''s unit came up slower to avoid friendly fire, bearing down on any surviving foes with swift lances. She had done her part, eliminating all enemies within sight. She left a few hundred to watch over the black horses of the knights while continuing on along the forest''s perimeter, praying that Azurus found Eildred alive.

    A sudden screech filled the air, a chilling scream unlike any animal cry. The horses whinnied in confusion, bringing their canter to an abrupt halt. Elizia cringed at the high pitch of the sound, looking about her surrounds for its source. Her soldiers tugged their reins in an effort to control their mounts as the cry got louder.

    She blinked, focusing on the noise, hearing something familiar, something nostalgic. The soldiers heard it too.

    "Is that our soldiers?" someone mumbled.

    "It''s the war cry Lady Sar''tara taught us."

    "The Vashiri war cry."

    Elizia scowled. Mother''s war cry? From whom. From where?

    "What''s that in the sky?" one man asked.

    Elizia looked up, brows furrowing further. An oversized bird hovered in the air. "A Crag Eater?" she muttered, wondering what giant rock eating birds that normally dwelled in mountainous regions could possibly want with a forest. Wondering why its cries would be similar to that of her mother''s war cries. She squinted, trying to better make out the dark shape floating before the sun, screaming still.

    "That''s a person," a soldier gasped just as Elizia came to that realization. "Flames and Ashes. It''s a flying person."

    The figure descended with blinding speed, landing at the unit''s side. Elizia knocked an arrow out of instinct, aiming at this creature. But there was no target to aim at. The creature was gone as soon as it''d arrived. A heavy gust of wind tore through Elizia''s lines. And then her soldiers screamed. A half dozen men fell, clutching their throats and writhing on the ground.

    Another gust of wind. Another few fell. Elizia looked around wildly for this attacker. The creature came to a stop before the horses, standing a mere two dozen feet away from Elizia. It had smooth bronze skin much like her mother and a similar head of black silk. It wore a cropped fur pelt around its breasts and had a leather skirt akin to the ones Elizia had found in her mother''s wardrobe. This creature had dark spots under bloodshot eyes, as if under the influence of a powerful narcotic, and her body was riddled with scars and lash marks. Most odd of all were the beautiful mosaic butterfly wings slowly flapping from its back.

    Whatever it was, Elizia didn''t have time to think about it. It''d killed her men. She drew back her bowstring in a single heartbeat, aiming between this fairy woman''s eyebrows. Twang!

    Klink!

    Elizia''s eyes went wide. Impossible. The creature had deflected her arrow with a bloody knife that it held in its hands. It opened its mouth, leaning forward, wings flapping faster. It screamed out the Vashiri war cry again. Elizia stretched out her hand, heart racing. The creature stared her in the eyes. She was the next target. "Volley!" Elizia cried, choking over her own breath in panic.

    The creature was engulfed in shadow as a rain of arrows descended upon it. Its wings near disappeared, their flapping speed unfathomable to the eye, a blaze of many colors spreading out where they should have been. Winds stronger than the greatest of storms pushed against the cavalry unit. The arrows all harmlessly fell to the ground.

    Elizia covered her eyes as Valor neighed and shifted to keep his balance amidst the turbulent gale and flying dust. Her soldiers were shielding their own eyes. They were all sitting ducks against this thing. It finally stopped screaming and flapping its wings. The maelstrom ended. Elizia lowered her arm to see the creature bending its legs, baring its teeth like a feral beast with knife in a backhand grip. And then it disappeared.

    Something collided with Elizia''s chest just below the neck. Her breath was stolen from her. She saw her life flash before her eyes, waiting, wondering what a knife in the throat felt like. She was on her back, she realized, eyes squeezed shut, and legs hanging over the side of her horse still. A heavy weight was pinning her against Valor''s rear and pressing down on her windpipe, stifling airflow. Pain shot up her spine as her back was pressed to the edge of her saddle. She gasped for air and opened her eyes to stare at a knife an inch from her pupil. A red drop hung from its very point, on the verge of falling. The creature had its hand at the base of Elizia''s neck, putting its near full weight down and flapping its wings to just barely stay levitated.

    For whatever reason, the creature hadn''t yet killed Elizia. Whatever that reason was, she prayed it lasted a few more seconds. She heard the sounds of drawing iron as the soldiers nearest her cried out her name. A few more seconds! But all it would take was a tenth of a second for the flying woman to put the knife through her socket.

    The creature opened its mouth. Elizia clenched her teeth, preparing her eardrums for the Vashiri war cry. Instead, it spoke. "Ta¡­ra¡­?" it croaked.

    "What?" Elizia managed to squeal through her stifled breath. She saw the flashing brilliance of sunlight touching iron. Two swords arced in a descent toward the woman. It pulled away before its wings and arms could be hewn. Elizia coughed, pushing herself up slowly, her spinal pain spreading out along her lower back. The creature hovered two feet from the ground, wings flapping slow. Elizia thought she saw a glimmer of tears within those bloodshot eyes.

    It ascended higher into the air until it was just a black shadow again. And then it flew off into the distance, somewhere to the north.

    "What in unholy Ashes¡­" the soldiers muttered behind her.

    Tara? Elizia thought. It looked like the fairies found in children''s books. But appearance was the only thing in likeness that it had. The soldiers had been powerless against it. A creature capable of tearing apart entire armies. Was it working for the enemy or was it an isolated incident? Whatever it was, Elizia was related to it. It recognized her mother''s face and had pulled away. Its garb was also like those of her mother.

    But Sar''tara was in a coma still. That meant no one had the answers to what that creature was. If it was fighting for the enemy, then Elizia could only imagine the terror it would rain down on an army that didn''t have something to stop it. She shook her head and slapped her cheeks to straighten her senses. Captain Eildred''s rescue was still the priority here. "How many losses do we have?" she called back.

    "Nine," someone responded.

    "Gather their bodies and place a flag so they can be buried later. We still have to clear the forest''s perimeter."

    ***

    Azurus ducked beneath an axe aimed at his head, unsure if his helm would deflect the heavy blade. The axe edge sank into a tree, stuck, and Azurus used the opportunity to sever the arms holding it. The attacker went down wailing. "Where''s Sir Aegis?" Azurus demanded.

    "I don''t know," the weeping man squealed, staring at the fountain pouring out of both arms.

    Azurus thrust down and rent the blade out near as fast, broken chainmail links flying up. Someone else came at him from his blind spot. He parried an overhead blow with his sword and ripped the axe out from where it was embedded in the tree with his free arm, embedding it into a skull instead. The attacker''s eyes rolled back and he collapsed on his side.

    "Captain Azurus," Orne said, voice muffled by the helm he wore. He was breathing hard. "None of them know the location of Captain Aegis."

    "No. But he cannot be dead. If they''re still surrounding the forest, they haven''t yet achieved their goal." But there was no way of knowing in which direction Eildred was. The forest stretched for leagues in all directions. He could very well be sending the knights to move in one direction while Eildred moved in another. It was a risk Azurus had to take. "Make as much of a ruckus as possible, Sir Orne. Call out the captain''s name. I don''t care how many enemies we attract. Queen''s Guard do not feel fear in the face of duty."

    "It will be done," Orne bowed.

    Azurus ordered the knights to continue moving now that this small camp of enemies had been destroyed. The shadows on the forest floor had shifted to his right. At least a quarter of the afternoon had passed since he''d led the Guard into the forest. They likely hadn''t even covered two whole miles worth of distance.

    The plain clothes beneath Azurus'' armor began soaking in his sweat as he continued to jog forward, legs and shoulders feeling like lead. His heart matched the beat of his every step, boots thumping down and crushing dried leaves. "Sir Aegis!" he roared in sync with the knights behind him.

    An arrow struck his breast plate and bounced off. Azurus snapped his visor down, pointing with his sword in the direction from where it''d come. "Enemies," he bellowed. More arrows whistled through the air, some missing him and striking the plates of his allies behind. Regular bows did not have the strength to pierce the thick black armor of the Lotus Knights. The archers rose from the thickets they hid behind and fled to their main camp. Another melee ensued as the knights broke into the clearing, and it ended almost as fast as the first one.

    "How many casualties?" Azurus asked, wiping his bloody sword before sheathing it again.

    "None!" barked his men after a short delay.

    "Injuries?"

    "None!"

    Azurus grunted, carrying on. These enemies had two pack horses with them ¡ªone black and one white with a grey mane. Taking them through the woods would take too long. He carried on, frowned, then turned back to take a closer look at the black mare. He lifted his visor, eyes widening. Dark leather bridle with silver links, an ornate saddle, jaded white lotus paintings on the stirrups, and a black helmet tied to the pack. It was Eildred''s horse. Azurus untied her from the tree and led her to the knights. "Someone escort her out of the forest. Sir Aegis will need her when we find him."

    Three knights stepped out of line and pressed a fist to their chest to salute before taking the horse away.

    Azurus trekked deeper into the woods. "Sir Aegis!" he tried again. Only crows answered back.

    ***

    Sir Aegis!

    Eildred spat, pulling his sword out from the chest of a dead man. Haze blurred his vision and wouldn''t leave no matter how hard he blew or waved with his hand. Every tree seemed a tall standing enemy. He could no longer distinguish between them and his assailers until the enemy was but a few feet before him.

    Sir Aegis!

    Delirious wishes is what that was. He kept hearing his name somewhere far in the distance, often followed by the cawing of crows. Eildred rubbed the bruise on his jaw with a thumb. The distant voice sounded eerily like Azurus. Sure he''d raised the boy, but did he love the boy that much to be hearing him call out like that? He would much rather have been hearing Dahlia crying out his name in his dreams.

    Sir Aegis!

    It sounded like multiple people now, but somehow more distant. Eildred turned in the direction of the sound. "We''re going this way," he told his men without turning around to check on them, pointing in the direction with a heavy arm and stumbling forward like a drunk. How many soldiers did he have left? He hardly heard any footsteps following him anymore. Was it twenty? Or ten? He couldn''t turn back to check. He just didn''t have the strength.

    A dark figure grew larger as he stepped forward. Was it a tree he was approaching or an enemy? Its branches were strangely vertical.

    "Aaaargh!" the tree screamed.

    Eildred barely stepped to the side of the vertical swing, an axe edge glancing of his pauldron. He swung his sword, arm moving so very slow. The Lumbersword would have been a more fitting name for him in that moment. His attack was easily sidestepped.

    Someone else screamed beside Eildred. Spraying red entered his blurry vision. He blinked, trying to clear it, seeing an ally''s sword driven through the gut of the lone enemy.

    Sir Aegis!

    The cry was much closer now. The soldier beside Eildred left his sword buried in the body and stumbled towards the call. Eildred too followed, briefly catching sight of about two dozen more White Coats following behind him.

    Sir Aegis!

    "I''m here, Burn it," he growled, voice coarse like two grinding stones rubbed against one another. And then he saw them. A moving wall of black like a solid shadow, like a tide in a stormy night, dauntless and indomitable. Lotus Knights. His Lotus Knights. At the head of their group, a familiar pair of sky blue eyes surrounded by a black helmet.

    Eildred couldn''t help but smile as he stumbled towards them. All his vigor drained away. Relief overpowered the last vestiges of his strength. "Bless you boy," he murmured. "I haven''t been so glad to see anyo¡­" he drifted off, the words slipping out of his slacked mouth. The world grew dark and Eildred''s heavy armor pulled him down. But his pupil was right there standing in front of him. Eildred allowed himself to sleep at last as the boy caught him before he fell.

 Chapter 71: Incitement (Book 2, Chapter 34)

    <u>Chapter 34 - Incitement</u>

    "Lord Caranel, please stop this madness," the governor pleaded. Agrienne turned to give a glare. The governor shrunk back, making his deep wrinkles fold and create deeper crevices within the skin. "I beg you," he squealed, "You are my guest here. If the Trillians were to learn of this, I will¡ª"

    Oink! Oink! Agrienne ignored the pig''s cries. Governor Bernestur of Heira, vassal to High House Galadin, and a shriveling creature with nothing pleasant to look at. Bernestur grabbed hold of Agrienne''s arm, still oinking. Agrienne struck down on the governor''s wrist with his own thick forearm. "Do not touch me so carelessly," he hissed, cutting off the incessant whimpering.

    Agrienne peered into the half open doorway of the governor''s chambers. He expected something worth seeing but instead found children that couldn''t possibly even be ten years of age trembling beneath Bernestur''s sheets. Agrienne grabbed hold of the old man by the beard, disgusted. "I will do as I please. The Trillians can turn into Bloody Ashes for all I care."

    "But if this gets to Lord Galadin¡ª"

    "Then what? Mm? Does Lord Galadin know about your¡­ hobbies?" Agrienne whispered, nodding towards the door. His back was growing hot, sunlight baring on it from the corridor window right behind him. His shadow overwhelmed the older man. The mansion reeked of perfume too. A good kind, yes, but a morbid overuse. Bernestur shivered, reedy lips trembling. "I thought not." That meant Heira was under Trillian control. They kept the governor appeased and used the city as their base.

    "But blaspheming the Goddess¡ª"

    "Oh shut up! I don''t need a pig to tell me I blaspheme a Goddess." Agrienne shoved the governor back into his room and slammed the door shut, wondering ¡ªfor a very brief moment¡ª if he should have helped those pitiful children locked in there with that sick bastard.

    He stormed off, pulling out a knife from within his royal blue coat and dragging its edge along the surface of expensive paintings hanging from the wall. Sick bastard. He deserved this much at least.

    Agrienne had already sent orders to defame the Trillian faith in his own demesne. With the roads as they were and trade and travel halted, commoners would be anxious. They would either turn to faith, or they would turn against it and seek a new medium to guide them. If the measly faith they clung on to was defamed by the very rulers on whose lands they worked, then Agrienne will not only have rid northern Xenaria of the Trillians, he would also increase civilian loyalty to him, granting him more power over their wills.

    All that remained was to light a fuse here in Heira, the Trillian faith''s head. Just a few words to start whispers and mutters. Lord Agrienne, one of the wealthiest of Xenarian noblesse, and the handsomest of all men, denouncing a widely followed faith. It would cause doubt and spread fear. Both of those traits would only increase if the strange rebellion against the crown persisted for a prolonged time. People would worship more often. Grow closer to this so called Goddess of theirs. And when no answer came to them from the heavens, that doubt and fear would take hold of their hearts.

    And if this Goddess is real, then she can come down here and stop me herself. I''ll lay her down and have her panting out my name before the crowds. Have her beg to be my whore and become a God myself. Agrienne licked his lips, relishing the thought before letting it fly out an open window. If the Goddess was real. There''s no way that she was.

    A crowd of people awaited him before the governor''s manse. Commoners the most of them, plain clothes stained with road dust or sweat from a day''s work. Some beggars in rags and orphans with bruised arms. They stunk of grime, the lot of them. Agrienne was suddenly missing the scented halls of the manor.

    But there was little for it. This task had to be done, no matter the resources wasted. This is for you, Lera, where so ever you may be. Agrienne stood on a podium prepared for him in advance, city guards surrounding him. City guards that he''d bribed in advance. Most were faithful to Trillia. But they were further faithful to the weight of their purses.

    The people shifted about themselves, muttering and whispering. Commoners avoided beggars and beggars avoided orphans. A hierarchy amongst even the lowest. To Agrienne they were all the same. "My fellow Xenarians, and honorable folk of Xenaria," he began. "I¡ª" Agrienne paused, eyes fixed on a brown haired woman. Not Lera. He opened his mouth to speak again, staring agape at another woman, this one wearing a bonnet but had a polished length of brown hanging before her forehead. Also not Lera. Flames! She''s dead. Get over it. "My name is Agrienne Caranel. Yes, Agrienne of High House Caranel, if you are wondering." None of them looked to be wondering. They were either gasping or staring with frowns of contempt. "I am here to help you, as was promised when you were asked to come here," he said. Some of those frowns eased.

    The people began muttering again. Agrienne held up a hand to command silence. They obeyed, as they should. "I understand that many of you now face hardships with the strange rumors surrounding this nation. I will confirm these rumors here and now. There are in fact a group of rebels trying to overtake the crown, but rest assured, the situation is being handled beneath her majesty''s thumb. This strife will end soon." Agrienne folded his arms behind his back, puffing out his broad chest to appear more confident. His mouth dried a bit as he realized how much of this plan hinged on Dahlia. He was aware of a group of fool peasants rebelling, but as to how large that group was, he had no knowledge. He had hid within bushes and lain on the ground, dirtying his clothes to hide from a few groups of roaming militia on his way to Heira.

    "In fact, I am here on behalf of Queen Dahlia," Agrienne continued, shifting the details of his plan. If he was going to rely on the Crown, it was better to gamble all his chips on it, and simultaneously have Dahlia owe him a favor if she did triumph. Agrienne licked his lips again. Favor¡­ Bright haired though she maybe, Dahlia had a certain charm that he wanted a taste of. "I will be providing you with minor relief resources as was instructed of me." More like pay and feed you out of my own pocket. Agrienne ¡ªfor the briefest moment¡ª reconsidered this plan. Did these folk really deserve House Caranel''s funds? No, of course not. But they would get it all the same. All for Lera.

    He decided to not pull any of his punches. There was no reason to stop at merely denouncing Trillia as a real deity. Might as well blame the entire situation on the Trillians entirely. "This aid of course, is free to you, the people of Heira, the sons and daughters of Xenaria. But know this. As of right now, you all are traitors to this nation. Traitors worthy of being executed!" Agrienne boomed with arms outstretched, his rich voice resounding amongst the trees of the governor''s courtyard. And now pause for effect.

    Whispers followed. Feet shuffled. Spit was swallowed. Some slowly backed off, afraid. Others looked up to him with pleading eyes. A few were curious but frozen in the face of authority. Some tried glaring, their glares weakening upon glancing at the armed guards around Agrienne.

    "What do you mean traitors?" an older man finally asked, his arms thick and his face marked black with either coal dust or soot.

    "I mean exactly that, master blacksmith. You. Are. Trai. Tors," Agrienne finished, speaking as if the crowd were no different to unlearned children. Well, they were commoners after all. They might as well be nothing more than children in a fenced coop needing to be fed every morning and evening. "Anyone who worships Trillia, a false deity I might add, is a traitor. For the cause of all your torments, the cause of Xenaria''s strife is none other than the masters of the Trillian faith! They''ve won over the people and are now trying to overtake the crown, causing you to suffer in the process. Roads have been closed! Food cannot reach the city! And you folk are financing this! They don''t expect you to rebel against them of course, lest you anger this Goddess. Alas, the Goddess is nothing more than a falsehood."

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Louder yet were the whispers of the people. But no one dared to ask for evidence or deny the charges. They couldn''t. Who among them would be bold enough to question the sitting lord of a High House?

    And now, one final push. "I ask you this, oh children of Xenaria! Has this Goddess ever aided you? Has she given you anything in return for your prayer, your devotion, your charity? No! Of course not! Your funds are taken by the Trillians and used to fund their deceptions and military exploits elsewhere. But Xenaria hasn''t abandoned you. The High Houses and the queen herself has not forgotten you. This is why I shall provide food here to those that need it." Food I''ve taken from Heira''s storage. "This is why I shall hand out a sum of a half silver to each and every one of you, and I do not want you fighting for it. I want everyone to form a single line for their portions. And remember, standing in the line twice will result in immediate apprehension! Be responsible and mindful of your fellow struggling citizens."

    And that was that. People were scrambling to get in line. This was but a fraction of Heira''s low class. Agrienne couldn''t afford handing out money to everyone. But word of the deed would spread and people would clamber at the governor''s gates. And by then I will be long gone, the seed of doubt planted within these people''s hearts, and rumors spreading like wildfire. Bernestur, of course, would be left to deal with the aftermath of the Trillian''s retaliation as well.

    Or so Agrienne thought.

    Halfway through handing out the charities, Agrienne spotted armed men wearing Trillian colors of white and gold marching down the cobbles leading up to the manor. He paused, looking down at the line from the podium. He couldn''t stop now or the people would doubt him. The Trillians shouldn''t have been there. There was no way for word to have reached them so fast. Agrienne was certain he''d paid off every man guarding the governor''s residence.

    Unless some of these guards were on the Trillian''s payroll already. "Flames!" he breathed, pressing a polished half silver into a plump woman''s palms. He handed a bag of grains and dried meat to her as well, though she didn''t seem she needed it in the least. She flashed a smile, cheeks red, bowing just enough to better expose her cleavage.

    Disgusting. Agrienne had half a mind to sever her head then and there, but she had brown hair and he forgave her, remembering why it was he was even going to such lengths to begin with.

    The Trillians marched into the courtyard, the guards not stopping them in the slightest. The sea of commoners divided in two to let them pass. The religious militiamen had their weapons drawn and soon the lineup of people also stepped away.

    Agrienne drew his own sword. "What are you buffoons doing?" he howled, turning to the guards. "Draw! Draw you fools! They have their weapons out! No time to make arrests. Fight them!" Fight them while I escape.

    The guards drew, but none of them took stances or made defensive formations. They all stepped away and turned their blades on Agrienne. He swallowed realizing what a horrid mistake he''d made. Flames! How deep do their pockets go? I paid each man a gold crown! A bloody gold crown!

    "I daresay, such words were rather bold of you to make here in this city, Lord Caranel," a man from beyond the Trillian lines said.

    "Who is it? Who dares utter my name so carelessly?" Agrienne demanded, glaring beyond the many heads before him. The Trillian militia were slowly making way for an ashen haired man in brilliant white and gold robes. The Vicegerent.

    "Who, mm? Who was it, I wonder, that dared to blaspheme the deity in this holy city?" Vicegerent Odain hissed, standing before the podium. The mansion''s shadow shrouded him entirely, making him seem small. But everyone around him belonged to him. Agrienne was alone and this small, lesser man was the one in control. Odain stepped up to the podium, the city guard making way for him as if he were a king. "That is what you did, was it not? Blaspheme Goddess Trillia?" he hissed, lowering his voice so only Agrienne could hear. He stood right there in Agrienne''s range, a brilliant sword with golden blade in hand.

    Agrienne didn''t hesitate for a second, raising his arm and swinging down as fast as humanly possible. Odain had time enough to defend, but to get into a decent enough position to do so? Not possible. He would block with his blade, but he was standing straight with both legs together. The force of Agrienne''s swing would swat away the golden blade and cut through the Vicegerent regardless.

    But no such thing happened. Agrienne''s sword was severed, its remaining edge a deep orange as if the rest of the blade had just been melted off. "Magical Artifact," he breathed, staring wide, sweat forming at the side of his head. He''d been cornered.

    "Behold, a miracle of the Goddess," Odain proclaimed loud and clear. "For how could a Goddess allow her most loyal servant to perish at the hands of a liar?"

    "It is a magical Artifact!" Agrienne cried. "Do not be deceived by this charlatan, oh people of Xenaria!"

    The people seemed indifferent. On one hand, they saw Agrienne''s words for truth and knew him as a charitable man working for the queen. On the other hand, there were armed men all serving Trillians surrounding them. Trillia who up until recently, most of these people were worshipping, and might still consider worshipping.

    "I''m afraid this charade ends here, Lord Caranel," said Odain. "Or should I say the bastard of House Caranel? Either way, I''ll be taking you into custody for an unforgivable crime." City guards strode forward and grabbed onto Agrienne''s arms.

    "Unhand me at once you louts!" he demanded, glaring back at Odain''s smug expression. "You think you''ve won, holy man? Nay. This is just the beginning. Word will spread. You''ve no right to be making arrests. Lord Galadin will hear of this. This is one of his cities after all. He''s got pride enough for a highborn to fight back and he''ll fight back hard, I assure you. He doesn''t like losing what''s his." Agrienne ground his teeth behind closed lips. As unfortunate as this situation was, he needed Jasim Galadin''s aid. Now he would owe that vile man a favor.

    "Oh. Lord Galadin, mm? You mean that same one who does nothing but satiate his own greed? Oh don''t worry. He''ll be easy enough to buy. You on the other hand, don''t seem to want to be bought. There is still time to change your mind however."

    "Burn to Ash! I''ll never be your dog," Agrienne howled, struggling to free his arms from his captors.

    "Unfortunate. Truly. But there are ways to break a man. I do need you after all. For now that is."

    Agrienne struggled harder but someone struck his face. Someone dared to strike his handsome face. He tasted iron on his lip. A warm bead trickled down his chin. "You''ll never win, Odain! Word will spread. I''ve told them that this insurrection is your doing. The people will realize soon enough and abandon your false faith!" Agrienne glanced at the commoners, seeing if his words were leaving an impression. They were muttering. Good. A seed of doubt was all that would be needed. I''ll triumph. I''ll triumph you bastard!

    Odain leaned in. "Yes. Quite the stir you''ve caused among the crowds. It will be difficult to undo." He leaned back, staring up at the sky. "If only Tavi were here," he mused. "I could convince these people that Trillia exists. Well, she''s not exactly in a proper mental state to be visiting crowds. I could use the Crowns of Control¡­ but no. Those belonged to her mother. She could have a resistance to their magic. Not worth wasting on her anyway when she already obeys me for the most part." Odain leaned back in. "No, Lord Agrienne. I''ve already won, you see? You are in my grasp. Lord Galadin will soon be in mine. Lord Coraine I hear has died. That leaves just High House Serene. With them handling the Empire, this nation already belongs to me."

    Agrienne''s eyes went wide. "Eternal Flames. You mean you really did orchestrate the insurrection?"

    Odain grinned wide. A repulsive grin. He fished out a smooth grey stone from beneath his robes. It had a strange marking on its surface. He rolled it over in his palm on repeat. "Hmm. I thought you knew. I was wondering how you found out but it seems you were just making it up as you went along. Speaking of, I should be visiting Dahlia soon."

    Agrienne bared his teeth, trying against his captors again. He didn''t care enough about Dahlia. But to have a lowly no one with no name be in control of Xenaria''s crown? A crown that belonged to him? Unacceptable.

    Odain turned to address the people. "Oh people of Xenaria and faithful servants of Trillia. Do not fall for Lord Caranel''s lies! He gave to you not in charity but to benefit himself. Be patient and Trillia will reward you many times over. Go now and go home." The people began to clear out with the beggars that hadn''t received their charity share remaining. Odain ordered for those to be handed out to maintain his image all while smiling at Agrienne.

    "Take Lord Caranel away," Odain ordered eventually. "Give him the most suitable of dungeon accommodations. Fare thee well, bastard of House Caranel."

    Agrienne continued glaring, muttering curses in his mind that he just couldn''t say aloud lest he give Odain the satisfaction of seeming a defeated man with naught but words left to him. Someone eventually placed a burlap bag over his head, turning his world to black and dreary like the life of those living in alleys.

 Chapter 72: Wounded (Book 2, Chapter 35)

    <u>Chapter 35 - Wounded</u>

    "Multiple lacerations in his sides, a few on his right arm and seemingly malnourished, but otherwise well."

    Or something along those lines Eildred thought he heard.

    He squinted, pushing himself up from wherever it was he lay, moaning like the dead come back again. He scratched at his neck as if that might quench his parched throat. A pitcher of water had been left at his side. He put it to his mouth as his eyes adjusted to the dark of the tent he was kept under. Bandages were wrapped around his torso, an older one around his leg where the girl named Eksa had stabbed him. His armor and clothes lay neatly piled a short distance away from him. There were more dents and scratches in the black pieces of metal than he''d ever recalled receiving in any past battle. He would need to send them to a smith for repair when next he had a chance.

    Eildred dressed and stepped outside, shading his eyes from a milk white sky with patches of blue here and there. Soldiers and horses were everywhere, a few physics in blue skirts and tops scrambling between tents, and banners with a silver eagle billowing in the harsh winter wind. Eildred shivered.

    If the duke''s armies were this deep into Xenaria, then the force that had ambushed him at the forest was certainly not the only one roaming the realm. If the threat was so dire for Kalin to move, then what of Dahlia? Was she safe?

    Eildred looked around for someone in charge. He saw none of the Lotus Knights that had saved him or any of the few men he had remaining with him. Had they already returned to the capital or were they camped elsewhere? Hunger gnawed at his stomach and his limbs still felt too heavy to do any proper fighting. But he had to return to her majesty''s side. He was already late by dozens of days and he had no grasp on Xenaria''s current situation. He hated not having information. It made him feel indefensible.

    A young woman in light leather with a bow and quiver strapped to her back was barking out orders while briskly moving through the encampment. Her brown hair was tied back and her height made her stand out amidst the sea of similarly dressed soldiers. Light cavalry, Eildred thought, nodding to himself in approval. A fast unit for fast responses. But one of their commanding officers was a woman. One who couldn''t possibly be twenty and yet was being obeyed without any question or expressions of contempt from her inferiors. She has to be capable for Kalin to have appointed her.

    This woman was in charge and that was that. Eildred approached her, willing his weak legs forward, eyes scanning about for his black mare. Oh right. The enemy took her. "Excuse me, young miss, but might I¡ª"

    She walked right past him, casting a sidelong frown as if he''d somehow offended her. "Can I get a number on the wounded?" she cried.

    "Nine of our own. Thirty-four in total," a shorter woman in a blue tunic responded.

    "Thank you Lina," the female officer replied. "And how many White Coats can be saved?"

    "Twenty-three," the physic said this time. "Two are too far gone, wounds deep and infected."

    Twenty-three, Eildred thought, looking at his feet. A mere tenth of the two hundred that''d been following him had survived the ordeal. "Er, excuse me¡ª" he tried again but the officer cut him off a second time.

    "Scouts! Where are my scouts? Does anyone know how far Captain Faren''s unit has gone?"

    A soldier in a dark grey cloak hurried over, panting for breath with hands on his knees as he stood before the officer. "They''re on their way back my lady. They encountered more enemies than us but have routed them all."

    She nodded, finally turning to Eildred, scowling, hands at her hips. "Well?"

    "Er¡ª"

    "Er?" she cried. A few nearby turned their heads. "First you try ''excuse me'', and then devolve to ''er'', Sir Aegis? That''s Her Highness, Princess Elizia to you! But for simplicity''s sake, I will accept ''my lady''."

    Eildred blinked in disbelief. Kalin Serene had allowed his own daughter onto the field after what happened to his wife? She did seem to bear a resemblance to the duchess, an olive skin tone and near matching features if his memory served right. "Apologies, my lady," he said, lowering his head.

    She beamed, lips twitching as if stifling laughter. "It was a joke, Sir Aegis. Oh, you look like you''ve just committed the gravest sin with your head down like that." She reached up and touched his upper cheek, tugging on his skin with a finger to get a better look at his eyes. "Or maybe that''s just malnutrition." She turned around. "Someone get me a spare cloak and a hot meal for Sir Aegis here!"

    "Lady Elizia, that isn''t necessary. Rather, I need to know the date and for how many days I''ve been asleep. Also, any information on the current situation. And my horse ¡ªer, any fast horse you can spare me. I must be returning to her majesty''s side."

    "Yes, yes, but you''ll need a meal first," she said, dismissing his demands with a wave of her hand. "You''ve hardly been out a day, Sir Aegis. Find me at the command tent once you''ve had something to eat. You''re in my charge now. I won''t hear any complaints."

    Elizia marched off before Eildred could get a word out. He hardly had the energy to argue anyway, let alone ride back to Exaltyron. He was weak, there was no denying that. Weak and near useless. But duty called. He''d beaten the cold. Survived many ambushes. Lived through a thorough plan meant to take his life. Mere weakness of the body was not an opponent he dared bow down to.

    Or I just got lucky, Eildred thought, remembering the damages done to his armor. How many hundreds of killing strokes and arrows had his plates repelled? He sighed aloud. He was being hard headed. He''d be of use to no one as he was now. A hot meal, he agreed. That would get his blood running and joints oiled. He glanced back at Elizia as he folded back the flap of his tent. Kalin Serene had raised a fine daughter. "The next generation of Xenarian leaders," he mumbled. "Flames burn my soul if I let them inherit a broken kingdom."

    ***

    Elizia slumped forward in her chair with elbow resting on a table and head resting in her hand. Her eyes drooped, the flickering light of candle fire a silent lullaby putting her to sleep. It was barely late into the afternoon, but the past two days had been long ones. She mumbled to herself, staring down at a sheet of paper she''d just written on, trying to make sense of her poor handwriting ¡ªmore scribbles really, wondering how many times she''d dozed off while trying to write calculations.

    The tent flap opened and Azurus stepped inside along with Lieutenant Faren. Elizia jerked awake, eyes stinging and begging to be closed shut if even for a second. "Yes?" she asked.

    Faren bowed. "I''ve routed ten squads comprised of a few hundred foot soldiers, from the western side of Oakwood Forest, my lady."

    She nodded. "Any information?"

    "Er, two groups were comprised of peasants whom we slayed without mercy. They had poor arms and were slow to flee and well¡­"

    "Momentum carried you forward?" Azurus cut in. Faren nodded in reply.

    "But was there any useful information?" Elizia repeated.

    "No my lady. These soldiers carry no mark, emblem, or name which they utter loyalty to. They are simply armed men carrying out the task of their superiors. But such a large number of soldiers all around Xenaria could not have sprung from nowhere."

    Elizia nodded. "And if any of the High Houses were behind this, father would have known already. One of our enemies from outside have somehow funneled in soldiers without our knowing. Soldiers that don''t speak when questioned. The only possible option I can think of is the Thousand Sun City. Their legions roam our lands freely."

    "But we don''t have solid proof if our enemies claim allegiance to no one," Azurus said. "Her majesty can''t make accusations without proof. All we know is that some among them carry flags with the lotus flower of High House Lakris set ablaze. This definitely isn''t a ruse. They mean to overthrow the kingdom."

    Elizia chewed on her lip, staring down at the paper again. Her head lulled forward and she jerked upright before her sharp nose hit the wood. "Any supplies taken, Faren?"

    "We left armaments since we can''t carry them. We''ve taken about a fifty piculs worth of dried meat, beans and biscuits. Some bags were wet and left in the mud, so you can count on biscuits being soggy mush. A couple dozen sacks of oats, maybe a three fourths of them still dry."

    Elizia let out a heavy exhale. She dipped a quill in an open jar and scribbled on the paper again. Let''s just write down fifty piculs worth of food taken. Add that to the amount I obtained myself and the few extra supply horses that can be used as food if the situation gets dire. She was now nibbling at the edges of the feather. "It isn''t enough to feed some five thousand of our men for long," she muttered.

    "Lord Serene did say that we could request aid from nearby cities or villages," Faren said.

    "Yes, but winter is nearly upon us, Captain," Elizia said just as Sir Aegis entered her tent as well. "I don''t wish to burden city stores. I especially don''t wish to burden village stores."

    "Someone recount every bit of information that we have this instant," Eildred Aegis demanded, standing tall in his black armor. He looked rejuvenated now that he''d had something to eat, and far more imposing standing tall in that suit, damaged though it may be. Elizia scowled his way, a bit annoyed at the attempted usurpation of power. She was the commander here.

    Eildred''s cold gaze met hers and she shrunk in her seat. Weakened, he seemed like a tree starved too long of water, but a mere meal and the aged knight had somehow regained all of his composure and demeanor that she recalled him having when last she''d seen him a years ago.

    Elizia decided to acknowledge Eildred''s presence as a superior. She was the tired one now. No harm in letting someone with more experience do the heavy thinking for a little while. She rested her head in one hand and leaned forward against the table for support. "Faren, if you don''t mind," she said groggily, eyes drooping now that her mind had accepted a transfer of authority. Just need a small nap and I''ll give Eildred an earful for his disrespect again. Though Elizia knew she probably wouldn''t get the chance. Eildred seemed ready to depart at any moment.

    Faren recounted all of their knowledge to which the captain of the Guard merely nodded, expressionless. "The Trillians are one step ahead of us then," he said after Faren had finished.

    "Trillians?" Azurus asked.

    Eildred frowned his way. "Boy, we didn¡¯t send you to Heira to go sightseeing now did we? Yes, Trillians. They''ve always been an arm for the Sun City ¡ªyou were told this. Assuming the worst, they''re the only ones capable of inciting an insurrection of this size. And we''re shorthanded with most our armies occupied with the Empire."

    "But Vicegerent Odain didn''t seem¡ª"

    "Seem?" Eildred roared. Elizia''s eyes snapped open at his thunderous voice. Candle flames shook as if storm winds were passing by. "It would seem to me that you were deceived. Odain has more cunning than I gave him credit for. If we''re assuming the worst, your identity was likely compromised. And judging by your following actions, Lady Roxanne was killed right beneath your nose. We''ve all been played!"

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    "That''s¡­no¡­" Azurus muttered, shaking his head and staring at his boots. Candlelight touched his watering eyes. He looked just as devastated as he had when Elizia had accused him for the deaths of the Draumens.

    "So what about this flying woman half your soldiers are crying about, Lady Elizia?" Eildred suddenly asked.

    Faren frowned, likely not having heard of the news yet. "Flying woman?"

    Elizia stared at a slow drooling drop of wax of her candle. "I don''t know," she whispered. "I''m not sure I''d be believing it at all if twenty-five hundred others weren''t repeating the same story. A woman, scarred and drugged by the look of it, appearance and clothes much like my mother''s hunting garb. She had wings. Butterfly wings but like a stained glass painting with black outlines. And she screamed the Vashiri war cry that mother taught to these soldiers. She can move at blinding speeds and create storm winds. She took ten good men in a flash and tried killing me too, but recognized my face as my mother''s and then just left. Flew off into the horizon somewhere towards the north."

    There was a silence within the space as everyone considered this occurrence. Eildred grumbled behind closed lips, breaking the lull. "If I recall, Lady Sar''tara hails from the ruined Papillion. A forest burnt by legions of the Sun City. It is¡­plausible they took a captive. But a captive with wings and powers? Did she have any noticeable Artifacts?

    Elizia shook her head. "Nothing but clothes and plain seeming knives.¡±

    Azurus scratched his head. "I saw a tapestry in Heira. Their Goddess, Trillia, the depiction of her in the tapestry was with mosaic wings. What if they plan to use this flying woman as their Goddess? The masses will believe it in an instant."

    "Then I must be returning to her majesty''s side," Eildred said, brows furrowed. "If we lose the people, we''ll have lost this war without even being allowed to fight. Lady Elizia, as much as it pains me to say this, I ask that you send riders out to Torsdale and Red Vine. If the situation is as dire as you say, then we will need the aid of every High Lord. I doubt they''ve both remained in Exaltyron since I left. Though, knowing firsthand what kind of people Lords Jasim and Agrienne are, they won''t bother deploying their employed armies and will instead start a levy to cut costs while trying to turn the situation to their advantage. And as for Lord Coraine¡­ he is most likely dead."

    "Dead? How?" Faren asked.

    "The reclamation of Kovar failed," Eildred said grimly.

    Elizia rubbed her temples. "So we''ve lost the naval advantage we had over Tarmia, they continue to put pressure on us from the land, and the Sun City has started a rebellion in our backyard." And someone from mother''s past is being used as a weapon and deity figure. She stood from her seat and walked past the three men, nearly tripping over the legs of her table. "I''m going to clear my head," she said, glancing at Azurus as she headed out. He was still blinking back his anguish.

    Her task remained unchanged. Find and destroy as many legions bearing the burning lotus banners. Azurus and Eildred would most likely be returning to the capital with the rest of the Queen''s Guard. She wished for at least Azurus to stay. She could have used a friend and idle conversation partner. Not many of those when you''re born a princess.

    "The duchess would be proud," Elizia heard Eildred saying. "She''s grown to be very capable."

    Elizia looked up at a flame filled sky. She tugged on her hair and undid the knot, letting it hang like a half cloak behind her back.

    I know mother would be proud. I know that better than anyone. But what good is ''would''? What good is it if she can''t see me as I am now?

    She stopped walking, staring down at the dark yellow blades of grass before her, cold and dying. What good is it if mother were to wake now, burdened by what has become of Xenaria and anxious for father and my safety? The grass would turn green again come sowing season. Sar''tara would open her eyes again. She just had to. And when she did, a spring of serenity would greet her. Or she could awaken in any other season. But it would be blissful regardless because all the strife will have ended. "And I will take part in ending it all," Elizia vowed, closing her eyes and breathing in, cold winds caressing her ears and pushing against her hair.

    ***

    A dim ray of light still shone over the horizon when Azurus at last found Elizia. She was still moving through the camp, speaking quick words to her soldiers and checking over spare gear. He shook his head. She said she was going out for a breather but was still working hard. An exemplar leader. She''d really forced herself to grow up since her mother''s poisoning. Just like me during my orphan years.

    "Shouldn''t you have someone else checking that for you?" Azurus asked, approaching her from behind. She was now checking over her unit''s supply packs." She grunted without turning around. He crossed his arms. "You should rest, El. You were falling over during the meeting."

    "I know. Just looking over these for a bit," she grumbled, finally turning to face him. Even in the dark, he could see the vague swelling beneath her eyes. It didn''t fit on her pretty face. He noticed her hair untied.

    "Captain Aegis wants us riding through the night. He''s eager to return to the capital. I thought I should say farewell."

    She snorted. "You''re making it sound like we won''t be seeing each other again."

    He smiled. "Tell Emeria I love her if you see her before me." She rolled her eyes at that. "And take care of yourself too."

    Elizia hugged him suddenly. "You too. Don''t let what''s already happened get to you. You''re stronger than that. I know it."

    "I won''t," he assured her, returning her hug. His eyes went wide as something sharp stabbed his forearm. Azurus threw Elizia to the ground, noticing a bolt stuck through his bracer. A bolt that would''ve pierced her nape had he not returned her embrace at that exact moment.

    Elizia let out a small yelp as she fell. She glared at him, feeling her hand for splinters. "What are you¡ª" she cut off upon hearing the hiss of him drawing iron.

    Azurus peered into the dark. A shadow was darting between the horses. He flexed the fingers of his left hand to test their function, then ripped the bolt out with a grunt. No blood on the tip. The bracer had slowed it enough and the mail beneath had stopped it entirely. A dull ache from the impact remained. A pungent smell flowed from the tip. There was no moonlight to verify, but what else could it be but poison? He handed the shaft to Elizia. "Someone wants you dead," he whispered, seeing the shadowy figure dart closer.

    A group of soldiers sat together, laughing around a fire not a few dozen steps away. They didn''t seem to have noticed the attack. Azurus didn''t raise the alarm. It could cause chaos and allow this assailant to escape. Elizia seemed to be thinking much the same.

    "I''ll act as bait," she said, motioning towards the soldiers. "I''ll run towards the soldiers and see if he comes for me."

    "No," Azurus hissed. "You could be shot. Hide behind me as we walk bac ¡ªEl!" he cried with as hushed a voice he could. She was already running towards her men, a dagger in her hand. He chased after her just as she fell flat on her face, her ankles tangled with a bola, dagger flying out of her hand. The hooded figure stepped between her and her soldiers. He meant to carry out his task in silence and escape just the same. Anyone looking his way would assume him a normal soldier wrapped in a cloak on a cold night. Azurus opened his mouth to cry out a warning but something round flew his way. He blocked it with his damaged bracer, but it exploded upon impact, sending up a cloud of smoke hampering his breath and vision. He coughed, waving his hand.

    A weapon was slowly drawn, that ringing of metal unmistakable. Azurus caught sight of Elizia sitting up, shuffling back on her rear while trying to undo the ties around her ankles. He roared, his throat itching with terrible fervor, and grabbed Elizia by the back of her collar, dragging her back with all his might just as a blade arced down before her. She let out a cry and an icicle of pain went through Azurus'' heart as he saw dark liquid slowly stain her front in a line from her solar plexus all the way down to one thigh.

    The attacker clicked his tongue, stepping in while veiling his face to block the smoke still hovering in the air. "Assassin!" Azurus managed to say through a renewed coughing fit, sword held in one hand, though standing with poor posture. He wasn''t sure if he''d said it loud enough. But a group of four soldiers were running towards them, spears in hand and screaming.

    The assassin glanced behind him. Azurus took the opportunity to lunge, keeping his teeth clenched to prevent from coughing. He struck hard but slow and his attack was easily parried. He swung again, feeling immense pain in his chest and heat in his face from holding in his breath. A few more seconds and the soldiers would be upon him. The assassin deflected the attack and hopped back, opening up distance. The crossbow hanging from his belt fell. He turned to face the soldiers, taking a ready stance as if actually planning to take them. His hand reached down to his waist to draw a second blade, but a quick turn of his head and he sheathed his weapons instead, hurrying off. The camp was alerted and stirring.

    "Come back!" Azurus said, after a violent coughing fit.

    "Bow!" Elizia said, her voice higher pitched than normal. "Someone get me a¡ª" she stopped herself, eyes falling upon the fallen crossbow. She crawled towards it on all fours, the poisonous bolt in her hand. Her blood dripped to the ground. Azurus thought he noticed strange glowing flowers through his stinging eyes. Flowers that Elizia crushed with her knees as she crawled by. He shook his head, dismissing his sight as delirium and reaching out to her.

    "El, stop! You''re ¡ªack!" he coughed again. "You''re hurt." She was already loading the bolt into the bow and cranking it back. She aimed towards the fleeing shadow. The bow clicked and the bolt flew, finding the assassin''s back. He stumbled but continued running, eventually falling in what Azurus assumed was a succumbing to poison. Elizia dropped the bow and collapsed on her back, chest rising and falling faster than that of an expended horse.

    Her soldiers huddled around her. "Captain!" they cried one after the other.

    "Carry her to the medic tents," Azurus ordered, but they were already doing so.

    ***

    Azurus paced back and forth as Lina, the unit''s head physic, sniffed at the assassin''s blade. She scraped the edge with a knife, careful not to touch the part that still had Elizia''s blood on it. A light blue substance was scraped off and the physic sniffed at it again. She dropped both weapons and rummaged through a pack, pulling out jars of dried leaves and powders.

    "Well?" Azurus asked. He''d been told that Elizia''s wound was shallow, but her breaths were sharp and quick and her complexion utterly pale. No one was allowed in her tent save other physics.

    The woman turned to him, gathering up her belongings in one arm and placing them on a table. "She''s been poisoned as suspected," the woman said. "It is one that I recognize, luckily. I have the contents to create an antidote within a few minutes, but a lot will depend on the lady''s own will."

    "Is there not a more effective antidote you can create?" Azurus asked, knowing his question was silly. Surely Lina was doing her best.

    "Poisons that are meant to kill work quickly, sir knight," Lina said, binding her dark hair and pouring out the contents of some of her jars into a mortar. She ground down with a pestle. "The faster the antidote is administered, the higher the chance of recovery. It hasn''t been that long since Lady Elizia was hurt, but it has been long enough for the result of the antidote to be uncertain."

    "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, staring at the array of jars before the physic as if that would help him understand what each ingredient was for.

    "You can wait outside," Lina said in a tone that hinted annoyance but wasn''t outright disrespectful either.

    He flushed with shame. He nodded, though Lina''s back was turned, and left the medical tent without word. Lieutenant Faren was pacing back and forth before Elizia''s tent, Sir Aegis standing there as well in all his damaged armor, arms crossed.

    Faren strode up, lips turned down and tears at the corners. "Anything?" he asked Azurus.

    "She''s been poisoned," Azurus answered, and the captain''s expression turned near ghastly.

    "No. No no no. Not twice while I was there. Not again. We made sure to be on watch since that day with Lady Sar''tara. I''ve always had guards posted around the camp perimeter and at the young lady''s tent. And we''ve been on the move since departing the garrison. How could there be a Wickar assassin so far here¡­?"

    "Lieutenant, it will be alright," Azurus assured the man, resting a hand on his shoulder. His mind was wrought with worry but he couldn''t show it. "Maybe this assassin was hunting you to begin with?"

    "Hunting," Faren echoed. "Hunting. Hunting. Yes. That''s the only explanation. That Flame Scorched son of Ash, Kazir. Taking Lady Sar''tara wasn''t enough for him. It''s all our fault. He must hate the name of The Huntress. We put a target on Lady Elizia''s back."

    "It''s no one''s fault but the attacker''s. The physics said they can create an antidote. Elizia will be fine." He kept out the parts regarding uncertainty. But she would certainly survive. She wasn''t so weak as to succumb to this. If only I''d been mindful of the smoke bomb. If only I''d pulled her away faster.

    Don''t let what''s already happened get to you she''d said. Azurus stood before the tent where Elizia was being treated. He wanted to at least see her before leaving. At least bid a proper farewell.

    Eildred placed a thick hand on his shoulder. "Boy, we should get going."

    Azurus nodded reluctantly.

    "You want to stay a little longer don''t you?"

    He nodded again. How could he just leave his only other friend in this state? Emeria was safe at Arcaeus. Queen Dahlia was at the capital. He had a duty to return but it wasn''t as if he was abandoning the crown. The entirety of the Lotus Knights present would be returning with Captain Aegis. But if Azurus were to leave now, he would feel as if he''d abandoned Elizia.

    "You can stay if you''d like."

    "What?" Azurus asked, surprised and joyed at being given permission.

    Eildred turned to Faren. "Do you have room for another commanding officer, Lieutenant? The boy could use the experience."

    "It just so happens our mystery flying woman killed one of our officers" Faren said in a grim tone. He nodded toward Azurus. "Lady Elizia could use a friend now. We''d be more than grateful to take him in."

    "But¡­" Azurus said, thinking up no counter arguments, wondering why he was even bothering trying to think of one when he wanted to stay.

    "But what? Are you going to argue against what you want, boy?" Eildred said with a frown. "You''ll still be serving the crown. Leave her majesty''s wellbeing to me and you worry about our esteemed Second Princess here. This is a chance for you to shine as well. Spread the name of Azurus the Whirlwind and take your place within the heart of anxious Xenarians. Let them know you as the hero who saved them. Regardless of what our enemies have planned, the nation is in strife and the people need hope. They will hold he who saves them from this turmoil in high regard. Someone will need to take up the mantle of the Thundersword. I''m growing old after all. And I know none else with your talent."

    Azurus managed a weak smile. "Nonsense. I still can''t best you in a duel."

    Eildred clapped him on the back. "Not with that attitude you can''t. Protect her well. Lord Serene has no heirs otherwise. Without a Serene, Arcaeus Peak and all Xenaria has a grim future."

    "I will," Azurus said, pressing a fist to his chest in salute as his mentor and captain turned away.

 Chapter 73: Treason (Book 2, Chapter 36)

    <u>Chapter 36 - Treason</u>

    No armies surrounded the capital, and yet smoke rose from within.

    Eildred dug in with his heel, driving his horse faster. Narsena was the mare''s name. He loved her and was glad she''d been recovered. She ran faster, hooves crushing down frozen blades of dead grass. He filled his lungs with late morning cold air, puffing out a cloud as he kept his sight fixed upon Exaltyron. Ramparts are still manned. Lotus banners still flying before the parapets. A good sign. But the smoke¡­

    The smoke was large enough to indicate burning on a largescale. A stray fire spread from a smithy or bakery perhaps? And yet, a foreboding feeling gnawed at Eildred''s heart. The kind that was like a crawling shadow within the woods at night, slowly reaching out to touch a person''s toes before enveloping them entirely, clouds robbing moons of their silver breath. It made Eildred sweat despite the winter air pressing against his face. It made him long for light. For the sun. For Dahlia.

    He reared Narsena before the gates, slowing her to a trot, five hundred knights behind him doing the same.

    "Open the gates! The Queen''s Guard have returned," a White Coat shouted from atop the wall.

    Heavy gears clinked as they turned. A thick iron portcullis was raised and the wooden gates before it opened inward. Narsena trotted into the shadow, snorting. Eildred sniffed, shuffling uncomfortably in his saddle at the burning smell. He kept his right around his sword hilt and watched for suspicious movements from the spear bearing White Coats standing beyond the shadow of the arch. They turned to face him and bowed, showing no hostility. Eildred recognized their faces as the same on duty guards of the city''s southern gates that he passed by over three months ago. He gently tugged on the reins and Narsena stopped, snorting again. "What is this burning I''m smelling?" he demanded.

    "Er, riots in the capital, sir," one of the guards stammered. He raised his head, blinking as if his vision were fogged. He stood up straight in an instant. "Sir Aegis!" he saluted, only now recognizing who it was he spoke with.

    "Riots?" Eildred asked, eyes narrowed.

    "It started about two fortnights ago. Indiscriminate attacks against civilians by hooded figures holding flags with a burning lotus. The city''s nobility mobilised their personal knights and created a perimeter around their district, protecting the Royal Plateau from any invasion. That left these troublemakers to run amok within the Commoner''s District. We tried quelling it at first, but the street guilds within the Impoverished District took the opportunity to expand territory and all organizations have gone more or less underground, occasional clashes happening here and there."

    It wasn''t like Dahlia to abandon the people so easily. Something was happening at the palace that had her occupied. "So it¡¯s a battle between criminals and commoners are caught in the middle? What have the White Coats been doing?" Eildred demanded, his volume rising.

    "Er, we''re short of staff, Sir Aegis. Half the city''s soldiers went with you and¡­" the guard peered down the arch of the gateway, standing on his toes to try and get a glimpse past the knights. "We haven''t exactly been able to leave the walls either with rebel forces spotted close to the city."

    Eildred swallowed, maintaining as neutral an expression as possible. Near half the city''s defenders were food for fishes. And he was to blame for all of it. He made no mention. With the city as it was, the remaining soldiers could not be fed demoralizing news.

    But what of the families of the fallen? It had been painful enough to see the reaction of Qalydon''s people. Eildred recalled that cruel dream he had within the forest. What if Dahlia did start hating him? What if she really did cast him out for his failure?

    Questions that could be answered at a later time. He was still captain of the Guard. He still had a duty to the people and his queen. Dahlia was surely having a hard time managing both the affairs of the city and reports from outside. Eildred ordered a dismounting. He handed Narsena''s reins to the guard. The knights couldn''t very well charge into chaotic lanes on horseback lest they trample civilians and give these rebels an excuse to antagonize them. "All knights on me!" Eildred said. "Our objective is getting to the palace as soon as possible. Do not cause unnecessary violence. But do not abandon any civilian on our path in need of safety!" Every black armored knight saluted in uniform. Eildred turned back to the White Coat. "Take our mounts to the guardhouse stables and keep them there." The man saluted while offering a short bow.

    Eildred marched into the city, back straight, height imposing, but blade undrawn. The Lotus Knights followed his lead, heavy steps on the cobbles synchronized as one like a rhythmic applause. The streets near to the walls, so close to guardhouses, were the most orderly. Shops still open. Occasional people hurrying about. Occasional people. In a capital this grand, there were never just ''occasional'' amounts of people. Nothing was being done unless it needed doing. And no street stalls were set up. Shops were open but behind the safety of doors. No laugher of children on the streets. Not even a beggar at an alleyway mouth. They were all hiding deep within the shadows between buildings, positioned behind barrels and boxes. Orderly streets, but it has seen its share of violence these last few days for certain.

    The chaos began when Eildred made his third turn, now about a few hundred meters from the wall. Far down the lane, people were fighting. Some with knives and others using wooden planks from broken furniture legs to bludgeon their enemies. There was the occasional burning box, one house completely ablaze and two more downright demolished without the use of fire from what Eildred could see. His vision didn''t stretch much farther than a hundred meters at best, the rest being hindered by smoke or dust from damaged structures. Worse yet, who among them were civilians and who were rebels and who were criminals, he could not tell.

    Some several miles of city still lay between the Guard and the palace plateau. The way to was not going to be a clean one. But that twisting nausea in Eildred''s stomach would not dissipate. An instinct that he''d always had amidst a battle. A similar instinct to the one he had on sea, one that told him that danger was nigh and from where. It hadn''t helped him on water, helpless as he was when maneuvering ships, but it had helped him survive many a time before when acting on such instinct. It had saved him a few times when caught within the Oakwood. Only, now his instinct screamed danger not for him, but for someone else. He looked up at the palace plateau. Something was wrong there. Dahlia was in danger. But from what and whom? Adrian? Sir L''Faleur had strict orders of staying by the queen''s side at all times.

    Is this instinct just my personal longing? Eildred had a fierce desire to sprint past everything, to ignore every civilian in need of aid, and get to Dahlia''s side. To cut down anyone who opposed him on that path. But that simply couldn''t be done. Not while he had his reputation as a knight to uphold. Not while he was still expected to be the people''s champion. He had to be rational. This had to be personal longing. A longing he would have to set aside until he reached the plateau. He marched forth towards the riots, drawing his sword sharp and quick. Eyes turned to him and the Lotus Knights. Some people dropped their weapons, faces washed over with relief and tears. Others slithered back into shadows. Some more yet stood, holding their weapons against the warriors in black. Somewhere down the lane, a burning lotus flag was perched at the top of a half standing house.

    ***

    Dahlia saw the black mass approaching from the veranda of her chambers. She clutched the two ends of her black cloak, holding them shut before her chest and feeling the thrum of her rising heart rate. The silver fur at the cloak''s top tickled her neck. A flush fell over her face as she imagined Eildred''s rough beard tickling instead. And then the euphoria died as she recalled that she''d sent her Guard to go with Azurus, not Eildred. If Eildred was to return, it would be with an army of White Coats behind him.

    Still, a girl can hope.

    She clapped both of her cheeks and took a deep breath. Exaltyron was still on fire. She could see clashes from her position, people on the streets struggling to attain basic necessities while others struggled to keep them. And of course, there were rebels and criminals causing needless violence. They seemed ants from so high up and far away. If only they were ants, if only the fires were mere lit candles, she could march out there and stamp them beneath her heels and be done with. But no.

    Now that her Guard was returned, more could be done to ease the situation. She wanted to quell this rebellion before Eildred returned. He would be disheartened to see the city gone to ruin while he wasn''t present.

    Dahlia kept her eyes on her knights, following them as they moved through the city like a thin shadow in a labyrinth. All they had to do was reach the Nobility District where minor Houses had joined their banner men to form a perimeter, stopping the riots from spreading further. Common folk were left to hang, but Dahlia''s hands were tied. She couldn''t command the royal soldiers. She would need to send messengers through the chaotic city to get to guardhouses. The most she could do was force the city''s nobles to send their men out to the city to aid in quashing riots.

    Except every attempt ended in failure.

    They tolerated each other out of common interest. But working in tandem with political rivals to save commoners? Most of the city''s highborn saw that as beyond their station. Dahlia had stopped ordering them to do anything, fearing they''d start backstabbing each other when forced to cooperate just to gain political advantages. If the nobility started quarrelling now, it''d take a stiff breeze to push the rebellion into their district and then inevitably the palace plateau.

    Dahlia looked down at the courtyard below. Little color remained, blossom trees mostly barren now with winter mere days away. Her fingers were growing cold. She turned back to the shelter of her room, taking one last glance beyond Exaltyron''s walls in hopes of catching a glimpse of Eildred beyond them.

    "Your majesty!"

    Dahlia frowned. She put her hands to the rails and looked below. Two armored Queen''s Guard were standing below, one waving her way. The other was fiddling with a crossbow. Armored instead of wearing uniform? The man below kept waving. Was it some childish prank? She''d been holed up in her room for a while, struggling to bear the weight of all the happenings, and they knew that. Adrian had many a time tried coming to her chambers, shadowed by Sir L''Faleur, and Dahlia had had half a mind to tell her knight off , desiring to feel the warmth of another, but she couldn''t. Sickness filled her when thinking of it, thinking of being unfaithful to Eildred. But then, was Adrian really guilty? That innocent smile, those kind words and lush deep voice, would she be able to bear the guilt of executing him when the time came?

    Dahlia shook her head. Not now. She couldn''t let her heart waver now. Her fingers squeezed against the rails, the whites of her knuckles showing. Sometimes, a sacrifice was necessary to keep the peace. Sometimes, embracing darkness was needed to push back against an even greater void.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Dahlia eased her frown and raised her hand to wave, playing along with the prank of her Guard. A third man approached, this one in dark red uniform. One of the Queen''s Guard officers. He spoke quick words which Dahlia couldn''t quite decipher from her position, though by his hand gestures, he was clearly questioning his inferiors. The waving man pointed up her way. The officer peered up, one hand over his eyes to block out sunlight. Dahlia smiled and waved down at him too. And then she saw his torso get cleaved in two. She saw him fall to the grass. She saw blood spill out of a twitching body three pieces in total. There was the lower half, the upper half, and an arm that had been cut in the clean swing.

    She blinked. A reflection of the sun playing tricks on me. Surely. She blinked again. Black armored guard, sword in hand dripping red, standing over a man in red uniform in three pieces, a pool of wet around him glistening beneath the late morning sun. A reflection, she tried convincing herself, breaths sharp and heart pounding. A reflection. She felt a sharp wind on her cheek, followed by stinging pain. A line of warmth trickled down the side of her face. Something struck wall behind her and then clattered to the veranda floor.

    "You missed!" the guard with the sword cried.

    Dahlia brought up a trembling arm to her face, touching her cheek. Blood. She glanced at her feet. A crossbow bolt. The guard below was loading his crossbow again. Dahlia fell on her rear and scrambled back, smearing the blood on her fingertips across the cold stone floor. She kicked her way back to her chambers and shut the window. A length of her sky blue gown got caught between the doors. She tugged, but it wouldn''t budge. She tugged harder, screaming as she threw her weight the opposite way. The dress tore at the bottom and Dahlia fell down again, head striking the soft carpets of her room. She rolled over on her belly and pushed herself up, blinking back the fog in her eye. She could feel her nose growing runny. A line of spittle fell from her hanging lip and sunk into the carpet, forming a dark bead.

    Someone had just been killed right before her eyes. Her first time seeing a living person die. No. The first time had been when she was at Madrivall''s side when he''d passed on the very bed before her. This was her first time seeing someone killed. Members of her Guard killing each other. "And then trying to kill me¡­"

    A tear fell next, another dark bead in the carpet.

    Banging noises came from her door. "Your majesty! Your majesty!" a deep voice rumbled from beyond.

    A squeal escaped Dahlia''s mouth. She clutched her chest, each breath faster and more painful than the last. The corpse of that knight, so vivid. So horrifying. She cried out, scrambling away from her scarlet carpets. Her back hit a wardrobe with a heavy thud. It rumbled and she hugged herself, trying to make sense of what was happening.

    Everything was wrong. Xenaria was torn. The capital was breaking. Her own guards were trying to kill her.

    The banging on her door continued. "Your majesty! What''s happening in there?" said the voice.

    Dahlia wept into her knees. Sar''tara''s gifted cloak was overheating her, sweat gathering across her neck and back. Why is this happening? Where did I go wrong? What did I do? I don''t want this anymore. I don''t want to be queen. Someone help me. Anyone. Please. Eildred, where are you?

    Loud bangs on her door. Her head jerked up. "No! Stay away!" she cried. Another heavy thud, like a battering ram. "Stay away! Stay away!" she wept. They were trying to kill her. For what? What had she done to them? Dahlia searched around the room for somewhere to hide. She furiously rubbed out the stinging saltwater in her eyes. Beneath the bed? Too obvious. Drapes? Stupid. Her back ached. She turned. Wardrobe?

    Another heavy thud struck her door, a sharp crack sounding. She had no time to think. She yanked open her wardrobe and stepped inside, stepping on a pile of Madrivall''s neatly folded clothes. Her foot slipped and she fell inside, pressing both palms against the wardrobe''s back. Half the clothes spilled out, revealing a dull sheath and a glimmering pommel. Dahlia swallowed as she turned to glance at her room''s damaged doorframe. She couldn''t hide in the wardrobe any longer. Not with half the clothes on the floor before it. No time to put them away.

    She sucked in a breath, pain in her neck as she swallowed a lump stuck inside. She grasped at the sword with trembling fingers. Her slender arms strained with its weight, veins against her pale skin bulging. Wind''s Eye. An Artifact and her family heirloom. A gift she''d planned to give to Eildred for their wedding as she''d done for his younger brother. The blade''s edge scraped as she pulled it from its sheath. She gripped the longsword with both hands, already feeling muscle cramps in her forearms. It was heavy. But it was a weapon. Something she could use to defend herself with. Something that may yet let her escape this nightmare. Wind''s Eye could repel any projectile aimed at its bearer. If she could just make it outside, she may yet manage to run away. Arrows wouldn''t touch her with the sword.

    But the Artifact was heavy. Too heavy to swing. Too heavy to run with. And she was wearing a dress with elevated shoes. Not trousers and boots. And yet, an ember of confidence spread lines of warmth through her chest. She was holding the same sword Madrivall had carried around with him. Holding the same hilt his fingers were once wrapped around. Almost as if he was there with her. Almost as if she was holding onto his hands.

    The door crashed. A large man with a scarred face entered. He wore a dark red uniform and had a longsword of his own.

    Dahlia''s confidence turned to ash. Her knees grew weak and the weapon in her hand felt thrice fold the weight it was just a second ago. Her heart raced against the arms of time itself and her breaths were audible, short, panicking. "Stay away!" she shrieked, closing her eyes and swinging the sword left and right. She lumbered forward, the weight of the weapon carrying her against her will.

    "Your majesty," rough voice called. "It''s me."

    "Stay away!" she said again, still swinging wildly. Her weapon caught within the wooden beam of her four poster bed. She opened her eyes and tugged, her panic growing as fast as her strength was draining. She pulled the sword out, slicing open the post. She stumbled forward again, now holding the weapon with one hand. She nearly tripped and sliced open her own knees.

    Dahlia''s limbs went rigid when she finally caught her balance. She stared at a pair of boots before her, a sword tip hanging right beside them. "Your majesty!" the same harsh voice said.

    She squeezed her eyes shut again, afraid. They were here to kill her. She opened her mouth to scream but only squeaks came out as she lifted her weapon with all the strength in her back. It was swatted aside. Something sharp struck her face. She collapsed on her knees, head shaky and vision fuzzy. Her cheek stung from where it''d been torn, more blood flowing down. Something clattered to the floor. Two hands gripped her shoulders.

    "Flames woman! It''s me!" the voice yelled.

    Dahlia squinted, seeing the scar across the man''s mouth and one milky eye. "Sir L''Faleur?" she managed.

    "Yes! Yes! Me. At least recognize when someone''s trying to help you. Flames and Ashes. I can''t believe I''ve slapped the queen. Get you up now. We have to leave. The Lotus Knights have been compromised."

    "Compromised?" she asked, as Arus dragged her up. He sheathed his own sword and took hold of Wind''s Eye.

    "Is this¡­ the Lakris heirloom? Your majesty, by your leave, if I could use this weapon for the time being, our chances of survival would increase."

    She nodded dully, looking behind the knight. "Adrian?" she asked.

    The First Chancellor gave a formal bow. Arus turned, giving the man a dirty, doubtful look. "Let''s get going," he said.

    Dahlia gripped Arus'' arm. "Wait I¡­" Was it alright to say what came next? Did she have the courage to say it? She certainly didn¡¯t have the courage to continue her duty any longer. "Take me away, please? I don''t want any of this anymore. I-I can''t be queen anymore."

    The knight raised an eyebrow. He peeled her fingers off his arm, fixing her with a furious glare that made her shrink. "Commands refused. If you stop being queen, what becomes of this city? This nation? The people? Have you given thought to that, your majesty? What becomes of Princess Emeria? Would you, her mother, abdicate now and throw the weight of this duty on a young girl''s shoulders? Let her inherit a broken kingdom and put a target on her back?"

    Dahlia stuttered, struggling to find words. But there weren''t any. Emma had lost her father early on. And now, Dahlia was planning on running away and leave the girl alone to hold a burning nation in her tender hands.

    "Come, your majesty," Arus repeated, tugging on the sleeve of her dress.

    She wiped her eyes and nodded, following him.

    "I will watch her majesty''s rear," Adrian said as she walked past.

    Arus flashed another disgusted look his way before giving a terse nod. He marched out of the room. Dahlia hurried after him, cold air pressing against her exposed shins. Adrian took hold of her hand and matched her stride, smiling at her. The sharp scent of his perfume entered her nose as she sniffled.

    Dahlia felt a growing headache, unsure of what to make of his kindness now of all times. She needed something to lean on and here he was, there for her now. But she felt wrong holding his hand. Felt wrong even thinking of admiring him. She loved him no longer. No. This was different. She almost despised him, as if she knew he was the cause of her problems. Or was it that she wanted to believe that? Again the thought of sentencing an innocent man to the block plagued her, pain pulsing through her skull.

    Adrian squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, guilt suffocating her heart. If only Eildred were here.

    "Chancellor Marco has already been slain," Arus was saying as he hurried down the corridor. "Along with a number of other officials and palace maids. A few have locked themselves in their rooms, but I fear they only imprison themselves."

    "Where are we going?" Dahlia asked, her voice cracked from all her crying.

    "I don''t know if the palace can be reclaimed. The safest place that comes to mind right now is House L''Faleur''s manor," the knight said. He turned a corner.

    Dahlia and Adrian followed, almost bumping into him as he''d halted. Before him stood five more knights in blue coat uniforms. One had a sword in hand and the others had crossbows. A wide staircase was behind them, bodies of servants and other knights littered upon the steps.

    "Sir L''Faleur," the sword bearer said. "I''m going to have to ask you to hand over Dahlia."

    "That''s Her Majesty, Queen Dahlia," the scarred knight hissed, taking a ready stance. "What happened, Corvil? I thought of you as one of the better ones. You''d been stationed at the bottom of this very staircase many a time."

    "Things changed," Corvil said, stepping aside closer to the walls. "Put your sword down, Sir L''Faleur and we can handle this without bloodshed. Else," and he gestured to the four knights with crossbows not two dozen feet away from Arus, "you die. I don''t wish to kill you. I admire your strength like many others in the Queen''s Guard. You along with your twin brother, and Sir Aegis and Sir Orne¡­ All of you are needed for the new future of Xenaria. So please, step aside and hand over the queen."

    Arus shifted. Dahlia could see a sheen of sweat on his hands, curled around the hilt of Wind''s Eye as they were. He was doubting the Artifact''s power. "Things changed huh? What changed? What changed to lead to this madness?" Arus demanded.

    Dahlia felt her knees buckle as her eyes passed over reluctant and damaged expressions of her knights bearing crossbows. Queen''s Guard, holding a weapon to their queen. She felt herself growing cold with fear. Felt terribly alone with a single guard still fighting for her. Adrian squeezed her hand again. She found no comfort there.

    "Everything changed! My father''s debts were called against him and he was assassinated for it. Now the bastards have my younger sister and want to use her to make up for the debt! I won''t ask again, Sir L''Faleur. Please just give me the queen or these men will fire as they did upon those you see on the stairwell."

    "Are you insane?" Arus bellowed. "What, you couldn''t pay off the bloody debt with your pay from the Guard? You''d bother to flip this nation on its head for one person? The Guard''s duty is to her majesty alone and no one else!"

    "That isn¡¯t it!" Corvil countered. "All of us here have something we lost, something else to protect. We¡­ we cannot protect her majesty any longer. This nation has already been torn. Just look at the capital. These criminals have only gotten at our families because the rebellion has spread so far. I can''t pay off my debt if my own position and pay has become something precarious. Queen Dahlia doesn''t have power any longer. We might yet have a position to play when these rebels take control if we hand the queen over. We could still work from the top and guide Xenaria to a better place. Forgive us, your majesty, but we can''t turn back. Not now. Sir L''Faleur, I will count to three. Drop your weapon or we will¡ª"

    Arus howled as he charged the blue uniformed knight. Corvil, caught off guard, barely managed to parry the heavy blow.

    "Fire! Fire!" the traitorous knight cried.

    Click, twang! Four bolts flashed towards Arus. All four veered off course and struck the walls on either side. Corvil stared as Wind''s Eye came down. His head fell to the floor in a thud and rolled a few meters, eyes still wide and mouth still agape. The four remaining knights dropped their crossbows and fumbled for the swords at their waist. Arus wouldn''t let them. All four stood in a line as if awaiting slaughter. With a mighty roar, Arus cleaved all four heads in a single swing, blood spraying on the walls and pouring out of necks like wine poured from a pitcher.

    Dahlia found herself on her knees again, one hand clamped over her mouth. She gagged and emptied out her stomach. An acidic taste lingered in her mouth and stung the back of her throat. A shadow overwhelmed her. She looked up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Arus stood over her, one hand holding the bloody Artifact and the other hand held out for her to take.

    "Up your majesty," he ordered.

    Adrian too had his hand held out, his expression full of worry. Dahlia picked herself up, earning a smile from her guard. She could only wipe her tears on repeat as they stepped through the reddened floor and descended past the corpse littered stairs.

 Chapter 74: Impending Siege (Book 2, Chapter 37)

    <u>Chapter 37 - Impending Siege</u>

    Emeria sat on the walls surrounding the fortress that was Arcaeus Peak, legs hanging over the edge, staring out at the vast expanse before her. She swung her legs to keep them warm, though, her toes were beginning to feel like chunks of ice. A thick cloak hung from her shoulders and was crumpled before her lap. Sharp winds still poked through and chilled her neckline. She brushed aside unbound strands of her hair trying to wrap around her face with a pair of trembling fingers. Fingers that trembled not in cold, but in anticipation. In fear.

    Color came to the horizon like the unveiling of of stage curtains, turning from grey to a dark blue to an eventual sky blue. Behind Emeria, two soldiers sat around a square table, sipping from steaming cups and playing a game of cards, pressing down on all of their plays to hold the flimsy paper pieces from flying away. Their last few games ever perhaps. A barrel filled with heavy bolts was next to the table. And a heavy ballista was on the opposite side.

    The soldiers grumbled something to her about it not being safe to sit in such a place. Emeria leaned forward. It was close to four storeys down if she were to fall. But that seemed so trivial. Lord Serene had considered having her return to the capital since the roads had been temporarily cleared by Elizia and other horsemen. But that hadn''t come to be. Emeria''s mother sent messenger birds notifying Lord Serene of riots and rebellion within the city. So was she stuck here, the next safest place in all Xenaria. And an army of Tarmian soldiers expected to arrive sometime during the morning.

    Emeria was afraid. Afraid of being held prisoner behind these walls for what the soldiers whispered could be months. She had no close friends left here. Nothing much to do besides spar and read. But she''d read every book in Lord Serene''s office already. And no one would be sparring with her now. Everyone was on edge, preparing for a siege. Soldiers from the Ekvatana Outpost had been recalled, and a third of Metsiphon''s garrison called up. Supply wagons bearing grains, beans, and dried meats came in every day to keep the vast cellar stores of the fortress stocked. The fortress had some forty thousand mouths to feed, not accounting for all the servants, stablehands, smiths and physics. Emeria had been down to the cellar, amazed at the sheer size of it. But she wondered if even that amount would last the expected months long siege.

    She turned around, whipping her legs to the other side of the wall before hopping down. She''d have asked the pair of men to join in on their game had they an extra seat for her. "Cold morning," she said, hoping to strike idle conversation. The wait was only making her more anxious. Her breathing was entirely out of sync and she had an urge to use the restroom despite having skipped any food and drink for the morning. She needed something to occupy herself with.

    "We''ll see colder ones yet," one of the soldiers said, putting down a pair of double queens on the table, one of spades and the other of hearts. Emeria wondered which game they might be playing.

    The other soldier took a sip out of his cup, frowning at the cards in his hand. "I got nothing," the man said and his opponent placed down an ace, emptying his hand and seemingly winning the set. "Your highness should get inside," the soldier said, rising from his seat to stretch. "Wouldn''t be good to catch a cold now of all times."

    Emeria snorted. "What, I''ll catch a cold and you won''t?"

    "Well, you''re frailer. And a girl¡­" he said, realizing he''d overstepped as she frowned.

    "A girl who hardly any soldier in this garrison seems capable of besting in a duel," Emeria retorted, opening her cloak and revealing the thin sword still at her waist. "What do you say to a bout on the walls? Just friendly. You know, to stave off the cold," she finished with an evil grin. She rested a hand on the pommel, tracing the etchings of Azurus'' name on the green hilt with her fingers.

    "Well, er¡­" the soldier stammered. He suddenly gasped. "Creator''s Ashes," he breathed, staring past Emeria.

    She turned to see a dark line on the horizon stretching wide. Every passing second caused it to grow in size and stretch out on the fields below the hill on which the fortress stood. As if a cloud were slowly enveloping the sun. Except the skies were mostly clear.

    Thump! Thump! Thump!

    Such were the sounds of the approaching army''s march, akin to the dreadful heartbeat of some behemoth. The sword at Emeria''s side seemed so¡­thin. Her breath slipped out between her open lips. The ice in her toes had near frozen her legs entirely. She couldn''t find the strength to move them. Sure she''d seen thousands of soldiers lined up next to each other. But this was different. The realization of what war truly was sunk in as she stared at the Empire''s army.

    A small part of her had secretly thought to fight on the walls with face masked behind a helm. How foolish that part of her was. She could already imagine it from all the stories she''d heard from Lady Sar''tara and even Elizia. Clashing of metal, screams of rage and pain, bodies pressed up against each other, blood everywhere. This was no place for her. There would be no duels on this wall. No romantic fights of honor. Just brutality and a struggle to survive till the next day.

    Warning bells were rung. The garrison came alive, thousands below scrambling to prepare.

    "Open the gates!" someone cried.

    Emeria looked over the edge to see a final caravan of supply wagons riding up the incline path leading up to the gates of the wall. It stretched far and curved beyond where she could see. One, two, ten, fifteen¡­thirty, forty¡­ she counted the large wagons one by one, eyes wide. A harsh wind touched the skin beneath her clothes, siphoning any courage she might have had and shattering any prior thoughts of valor and being equal to her friend. How do you do it, El? This¡­ it''s scary.

    Suddenly, the thought of sitting huddled in her room didn''t seem so bad. She wanted no part of what was to come. Didn''t want to hear it or see it. The urge to use the restroom hit her harder and she finally found the strength to use her legs. Emeria scurried off, descending down from the ramparts, skipping past the steps and stumbling to the bottom.

    A sea of soldiers lay before her and the castle. Officers shouted orders. Bows and full quivers were handed out and men scrambled to line up on the walls. Others aided in offloading the supply carts. Emeria hurried towards the castle, one hand holding the two ends of her cloak before her chest. No one acknowledged the First Princess'' presence. A number of people bumped into her, causing her shoulders to ache halfway through. Everyone''s thoughts were occupied elsewhere. Emeria reached the castle, breathing hard. The hammering of metals could still be heard from smithies somewhere inside. They rung in her ears as much as the bell at the gates.

    She hurried indoors, walking between two lines of soldiers pouring out. The line disappeared behind her as she got in deeper. A number of soldiers were still inside training rooms or the mess hall. Not every squad had been called to man the walls it seemed. She paused before a stairwell to catch her breath.

    "Princess?" a familiar voice called. Lord Serene descended down the steps all dressed in a full suit of polished armor with a shirt of mail beneath it. A silver eagle came to life on his breastplate as he stepped into the light of the braziers hanging at the walls. Emeria had seen him in armor only once before when she was around eight or so. The image was different. Lord Serene had more greying hairs at the sides. His face looked a little worn. Cheeks a little sunk.

    "Have you been eating well?" Emeria blurted. She bit her tongue, reprimanding herself for not curtsying and speaking out of line.

    "I¡­ yes," the duke said, voice distant. He seemed so tired. "I haven''t had much of an appetite recently. I thought you''d be at your quarters. What were you doing outside?" His gaze fell to the blade at her hip. "Your highness, you weren''t on the walls were you?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

    Emeria turned away. "No." Lord Serene crossed his arms. Emeria chewed on her lower lip. "I won''t go back. Promise. I just wanted to see."

    "And did you see?"

    She nodded slowly.

    "And did you imagine what the walls might look like when this siege begins."

    "I''m scared," she said, surprised to admit it so easily. All that bravado, all that arrogance and pride at her own sword skills and she only had fear to show for it. What had she been thinking, wanting to go into battle all this time? Wanting to fight and prove¡­ prove what? Sure she was angered by Lady Sar''tara''s poisoning. Was upset at these strangers inciting rebellions. Upset at the Empire for their relentless aggression. But anyone could get upset. Anyone could speak words on the matter and claim they would change it if they were out there with weapon and shield in hand. Reality was different and unforgiving. Reality showed Emeria her own dark truth.

    Cowardice in the face of adversity.

    "As you should be," Lord Serene grumbled. "Fear means you''re human. I would be concerned if you weren''t afraid. Everyone here is afraid, princess. Afraid of dying and leaving behind tasks unfinished and people unloved. We fight to protect it all. The key is to mold fear into fuel rather than letting it sit and become quicksand beneath your feet. You''ll be a fine queen one day."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    She nodded, mute, not buying his words whole.

    "Go on and rest in your quarters. Or feel free to swing a training blade. Arcaeus Peak has never before fallen in the centuries that it has stood. I don''t imagine our walls collapsing on the very first day. That''s one worry you can put out of your head."

    Never before fallen in centuries. True. But it had never been besieged before. No foreign army had ever had the chance. Emeria shuffled her feet. Should I ask for it? She met Lord Serene''s eyes. So tired. He might need one more than me. "Um, can I get a hug?" she mumbled.

    "Mm?"

    "Can I get a hug?" she said, louder this time and with a frown, blushing. He was the next best thing she had to a parent right then. How she missed sitting in her father''s lap. Lord Serene gave a withered smile as he wrapped his massive arms around her shoulders, pressing her head to his breastplate. "It''s cold," Emeria complained, hugging him back.

    "Forgive me, your highness."

    Amidst all the clamoring, the shouting, the hammering and the bells, somehow, the one clear sound Emeria could make out was the sounds of the marching army still a long distance away from the garrison. A steady sound still matching the beating pump inside her chest. Emeria held Lord Serene tighter as he rustled her hair.

    ***

    Kalin sighed as he watched the royal heir climb up the steps. Poor girl. She''d been relieved to learn that Azurus hadn''t in fact slain Lady Roxanne and her family. Had been excited to return to the capital to meet him too, since the roads had been checked over by House Serene''s cavalry on their way out of the duchy. But then came news of riots in the capital. That left Kalin wondering after the queen''s welfare. He also wondered where it was Sir Draumen had disappeared to.

    He stalked off outside to join the archers on the walls. Armed men pressed firm fists to their hearts in salute as he moved through the ranks. He checked over the ballistae despite knowing his soldiers would not be fool enough to neglect their management. The last of the supply wagons came in and soldiers carrying heavy and pointed iron barriers headed out the gates, digging into the dirt path before them and placing the spiked barriers there. They would slow any attempt to carry a battering ram up the path and give archers time to harass any such attempt.

    Kalin took a spyglass hanging from his belt and examined the approaching army. A mix of well-armed men, militia, and independent mercenary troupes with flags of their own. He then examined the siege weapons, breathing a sigh of relief when seeing the catapults. A strange thing to be relieved at when knowing those weapons would be hurling massive stones at the walls. But nothing about them seemed out of place. No strange designs.

    Kalin had studied siege artillery at length and could measure their strength and range potential through eyes alone. He stood still, staring for a long while, getting a better look the nearer the Tarmian army got. Those boulder throwers didn''t have lengthy enough arms to make up for the incline that the garrison was perched on. If they tried approaching closer, they risked damage to return artillery from the walls. The less steep side was not of worry with the Greyscale Lake acting as a natural barrier. The only threat remaining were siege towers. Archers would slow them, but if ordered to push through, they would inevitably reach the walls.

    So what options of attack remain then? In the end, it would come down to the resilience of the Empire''s forces in comparison to the soldiers of the garrison. Or they surround us and sit still, starving us out. That was the most probable route ¡ªone in which Xenaria held an advantage. A long stretched siege through winter would take its toll on the assailing forces. Kalin continued his walk along the wall. Greyscale Lake shimmered beneath the sun. Elizia''s captured dromons were still moored there. They would soon be Empire property again.

    They could try poisoning our water supply. A tunnel beneath the lake connected to the garrison''s interior, providing water. But no. The same lake would be Tarmia''s water supply as well. Or would they trying marching back to the Cinder River to attain their water? Not likely. The soldiers would be upset at having to carry water back and forth such a long distance in cold weather. With such a mixed band making up Tarmia''s army, maintaining cohesion would be of import or deserters would harry their camp.

    Good. All bases were covered. And yet, Kalin felt his muscle fibres twitch.

    Fear.

    Also good. He was still human. But there was something else there. A different fear. The fear of having failed Sar''tara. Her new home was under threat. At least she wasn''t here to see it. But then, would he ever see her smile again?

    "Lord Serene, sir, everything is prepared!" a middle aged officer said with a salute. He stood beneath a silver eagle banner fluttering proud, as it should. "The artillery is ready, ammunition for them plenty. All of my battalion are accounted for on this side of the wall. Is there anything else we should do? Should we prepare boiling oil?"

    "No," Kalin said, shaking his head. He tried recalling the officer''s name. A familiar face but the name was lost. "No need to waste precious oil with winter at our doorstep."

    "Yes sir!" he said with raised volume, saluting again with more enthusiasm.

    He was on edge, making up for his own fear by seeming ecstatic before his squad. A fine officer. But what''s his name, Kalin thought carrying on.

    ***

    Arcaeus Peak. There it lay, not a mile more away, perched atop a hill and basking beneath the sun. Or so Kazir assumed, hands on the reins of his horse. The skin on his bare torso felt warm despite the temperature. He''d been under the sun for a while. And judging by the increased mutterings of the soldiers, he could only assume that he was close now. Very close.

    Kazir had seen the fortress before. He had a mental image of it, of its defenses and potential attack points. There were little of those. The siege would be a long one. And scouts reported caravans of supplies pouring into the city day after day.

    "That''s our commander over there."

    "That''s Kazir Windsinger? Why''s he hunched forward like that?"

    "He looks like a decrepit."

    "Ain''t he blind? You sure we joined the right side?"

    "Flames if I know. The cripple''s paying us mighty fine. Just sit back and let them farmers do the dying."

    Decrepit. Blind. Cripple. Kazir was used to such words. Expected it too from proud mercenaries. And had heard questions time and again from newly recruited militia. He was hunched because there was no reason to sit up. No reason to utilise eyes which no longer worked. And yet, he sat up straight, displaying his carved body that he worked so hard to maintain. Half the insults stopped. The mercenaries snorted, making bets on how long it would take them to beat bloody a blind man, oblivious to the fact that he heard every syllable of every ill spoken word with the clarity of polished glass.

    Kazir ignored them. Or so I tell myself. Why was it I sat up straight?

    The Scorpion sent after the duke''s daughter had yet to return. That could only mean one thing. She''d been sent out along with the cavalry that Kalin was using to quell whatever rebellion breathed fire on Xenaria''s tail. That was the best point of attack. Rot their minds and squeeze their hearts. It''d been a while since the assassin had been sent. Kazir expected his man to return with Elizia''s head in a box soon enough. And if he didn¡¯t, well, would the duke know better if he were shown a battered head with brown hair mounted on a pike?

    The girl was said to be tall. Perhaps selling the lie would be easier if it was an entire body with similar body proportions. The mercenaries had brought with them an assortment of whores to keep entertained during the nights. Undisciplined rats is what they were. But then, somehow, without rigorous training, mercs were particularly good at seizing glory and spreading their feats far and wide. Many named men were among their unholy bands. And many named women no doubt. Killing one would only be necessary if the assassin didn''t return with Elizia''s head before the year''s end.

    "Master Kazir, we have arrived," one of his aides whispered. It sounded like shouting to Kazir. Almost everything sounded like shouting. "The soldiers are setting up camp. I will let you know when the command tent has been erected."

    Kazir nodded. He had heard the army spreading out and laying camp before he''d been informed of it. And he would know when his own tent was made before anyone told him so.

    The grinding wheels of siege engines had come to a halt, awaiting orders to proceed or decide the best possible placement. No need to use them on the first day. No need to rush into combat. Day one didn''t need to see any bloodshed. Day one that was. No one said anything about night. Night attacks would do more to hamper morale. Would be more effective in tiring Xenarian soldiers. Kazir had well rested the Empire''s forces the day before for that exact purpose. "But you''re probably prepared for that aren''t you, old friend," he muttered. After all, only about a fifth of Arcaeus Peak''s current numbers would be required to man the walls.

    "Pardon?" the same aide said, no longer whispering. His voice rung in Kazir''s ears.

    "Nothing. I''m going to go give the duke a greeting before we surround the fortress."

    "A greeting, master?"

    "Just something to rile him up and bolster our own spirits. For we''ll be needing that in much excess if we''re to sit here for winter''s ever plentiful duration."

    "Should I accompany you and let you know when you''re in range of their bows?"

    Kazir turned towards the voice and frowned. "I am not so crippled so as to need something like that," he hissed. He felt the man''s nod in the silence that followed.

    Kazir kicked at his horse and it trotted forward. The clamoring and shouting died behind him as he left the immediate vicinity of his own soldiers. He breathed in the cold air. It carried with it a lingering smell of morning dew, and a fainter one of freshly oiled metals. It carried with it sounds as well. Sounds of a distant eagle flying high above, of banners flapping in the wind, and of mutters and whispers of soldiers on the walls. That''s about far enough. Kazir tugged on his horse''s rein. He felt it lower its neck and heard its teeth grinding down on dead grass. Its head jerked up as three arrows sank into the ground before it. It let out a whinny, a terribly loud one, and reared back. Kazir tugged hard to force it into obedience. It stopped eventually.

    And so hung an eerie silence between him and the walls.

    Kazir tilted his head and filled his lungs with air, preparing his ears all the while. "You''re there aren''t you, Kalin?" he bellowed. "Looking down at me from your higher branch as you''ve always done. I warned you, didn''t I? I told you that you should¡¯ve killed me. And look where you''re at now. The first Serene to ever let Arcaeus Peak come under siege!"

    Silence.

    Flaming bastard. "How''s your daughter, I do wonder," Kazir continued, eardrums aching with a horrid ring. "The Huntress. Must be hard, carrying the weight of her mother''s name. The weight of all her duties. The weight of all her targets."

    Mutters. Good.

    "And the crown princess too. I hear she''s inside right now. Do give her my regards. Tell her I''ll be in there soon enough with a gift most suited of the royal heir. A pair of bloody silver wings to stare at as men have their way with her."

    Hisses now. Even better.

    "And you, my old friend. How have you been? Is it cold at night without the duchess? Is it lonely? Have you succumbed and lain with whores? None would blame you. There''s no reason to keep it a secret. Or¡­ Have you grown so desperate that you forced yourself on Sar''tara''s limp body? You said you''d kill me when next I came. Well, here I am! Kill me!"

    Silence again. No. There was a sound. A clanking of metal. A loud creak. And constant clicking as if someone were spinning a crank and stretching back a heavy string. The sounds of a ballista being prepped. Kazir''s queue to leave. He turned his horse and kicked it to force a gallop.

    You''re angry aren''t you, Kalin. Shame. Shame that words are the only dagger I can plunge into your heart. I wish I could have seen your expression. But I''ll settle for the sounds of that ballista instead.

 Chapter 75: Im Sorry (Book 2, Chapter 38)

    <u>Chapter 38 - I''m Sorry</u>

    Why won''t this feeling leave?

    Eildred held his hand out to a child in rags covered in dust from collapsed buildings on the sides. It was hard to tell if it was a boy or a girl with their mop like hair and thin figure. The child had no shoes and was bleeding from a large splinter stuck in their calf. Eildred knelt and gently pulled the splinter out. The child squeezed their eyes shut, tears making it through. Eildred bound the leg with scraps of cloth nearby and picked the child up in his arms.

    He rose and turned, wondering where to place such a fragile person. The squeezing in his heart continued. It had spread now, causing his stomach to clench and his air pipe to thin. A feeling that refused to leave. A feeling that begged for his attention, that screamed urgency. But how was he to abandon the suffering people?

    The rest of the knights were still clearing a path ahead, fending off attacks from rebels and criminals alike. Every rebel had faces of able bodied men in their early to middle ages. It was likely that none were truly established citizens and had been gathering in the city for years, waiting for the opportune moment.

    Eildred carried the child over to a still standing house. He banged on the door and a moment later, it creaked open just an inch, the eye of a woman staring from the other side.

    "M-my lord," the woman stammered, opening the door a few inches more.

    Eildred placed the child on the doorstep. The rag around the calf wound was soaked and leaking. There was little more he could do at that moment. "Take care of this one for the time being. We will return for them soon, once the city has been settled.

    The woman opened the door entirely now. She wore a plain grey gown with a white apron over the front, hands white with flour dust. Several children stood in a dimly lit room behind her, muttering, eyes wide in either fear or awe. "This¡­ urchin, my lord?" the woman asked, looking down, shuffling a half step back as if the fragile child carried a contagious disease.

    Eildred felt his blood boil. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt at his waist. "Problem?" he demanded, shouting louder than he intended. The child was the one to shuffle back now, and away from him. The woman trembled and shook her head, pulling the child inside and hastily shutting the door. Eildred sighed as he stepped down and joined the rest of the knights. Prejudice existed everywhere. What was he doing getting angry at anxious people?

    Someone grabbed at his ankle. He looked down to see a cloaked figure gurgling from the mouth. Red spilled down their chin. They had a knife in their hand and was slowly bringing it up, sending death threats with their eyes. Their torn sleeve revealed the tattoo of a raven on their arm. The mark of one of many street guilds from the Impoverished District. Eildred drew his sword, its length already stained from prior clashes, and plunged it through the back of the struggling man. More blood gurgled out of his mouth. The grip around Eildred''s ankle loosened. He pulled away, uncaring to see the man die. "You chose this life," he muttered.

    He marched to the head of his company and turned down to a different street, waving away the dust still hanging in the air and crinkling his nose at the burning smell. Up ahead was a makeshift barrier made with rubble and uniformed men standing watch on the lane beyond. The Nobility District. The Lotus Knights continued on. The vanguard had black plates dripping red from all the clashes within the city.

    Eildred began climbing over the rubble, pushing hard with his legs to carry the weight of his armor. The bannermen of lower nobility shuffled back with their weapons drawn. Eildred frowned at them as he came down to the other side. The road ahead was clear aside from the men before him. A straight line to the palace plateau.

    "Hold," said a man pointing a sword. Bright cropped hair and spotless navy blue coat. All his peers wore similar uniforms, all spotless. They hadn''t seen much action if any at all.

    "Hold?" Eildred sneered. "Flaming hold? And who are you to command I, Eildred Aegis?"

    The sword arm of the speaker trembled, making the weapon in his hand seem nothing more than a flimsy stick of thin metal. "Er, that''s, we have to confirm identities first. We can''t just let anyone¡­" he drifted off, swallowing hard as Eildred''s face twisted into an incarnation of hate.

    "Confirm our identities? Even when you see us like this, in our armor?"

    "That''s¡ª"

    Eildred''s patience had run out. These fools should have given way long before he''d even begun climbing their two meter high rubble barrier. He should have been sprinting towards the palace rather than succumbing to his instinct''s suffocation. His breaths became laboured. Even if he inhaled, he didn''t feel as if he was getting any air inside. His heart hammered, each beat more painful than the last. This was beyond personal longing. Dahlia needed her Guard captain. And he wasn''t there.

    Eildred clenched his fist, meaning to break the pompous warrior''s nose, but his hands were curled around his sword hilt. Common sense disappeared in that single instant of anger. Instead of swinging his fist, he swung his sword, tearing open that dark blue uniform to let out a spring of blood. Eildred blinked, staring at the fallen man, bleeding out before him, a long gash stretching from his shoulder to his waist. The other men in uniform all stumbled back, swords raised. Eildred''s mouth went dry. An ache settled at the front of his mind. Flames. Oh Flames, but what have I done?

    "Help," the fallen man croaked.

    Alive. Still alive. He can be saved. Besides, he was the one to point a sword at me. At me! Eildred tried justifying his actions. But he knew what he''d done was wrong. Almost too wrong to be righted. He''d lost his temper and this man was dying because of it. But still, he hadn''t time to lose. He needed to get to the plateau. "What are you all staring for?" he screamed as more knights in black jumped over the rubble wall. "Take this imbecile to a hospital! You still have those don¡¯t you, you''re still using them to treat your fat bastard masters who keep your pockets lined, aren''t you? Well hurry up and take him there," he demanded, pointing at the fallen man with his bloody sword. The sword of a knight, meant only to be used to protect and vanquish threats to the innocent. It had almost become a murder''s weapon. Might still become one if this man wasn''t saved.

    It pained Eildred to not take responsibility for his own actions. But he couldn''t stay here any longer. He sheathed his blade and pushed his way past the spotless soldiers. And then he ran hard, tugging at his armor straps and letting pieces fall one by one, feeling lighter with each piece of armor dropped. His breastplate was the last to crash to the cobbles. Only his lower half remained. Wind pierced through his mail top and shirt beneath, cooling his sweat matted skin. He ran harder now, much faster than any of the five hundred knights following after him.

    Your majesty, please be safe. I''m almost there.

    ***

    "The streets," Dahlia gasped. The sound of her heart beat at her eardrums. Her feet ached from running in her tight shoes. "We can run to the streets."

    "The riots?" Arus questioned without turning around, two bolts flying towards him and veering off. The attackers stared dumbfounded as they were cut down. Arus had already grown accustomed to using Wind''s Eye despite only having had it for a half hour at best. "You mean to hide amidst the chaos, your majesty?"

    The palace gates were wide open, bodies lying here and there, mostly of Queen''s Guard in their royal blue uniforms. A few servants and maids lay sprawled out with severed limbs. A nauseating sight, but Dahlia didn''t have much more to throw up. She could only gag but she''d somehow gotten good at stifling those within the last few minutes. "No," she said. "My Guard. They''ve returned. I saw it from my room. They''re making their way towards us now."

    "Dahlia, can we trust them?" Adrian asked. She glanced his way. He was matching her strides with ease. No hints of being out of breath and barely a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

    "Why not? They''ve no news from the capital. They''ll protect me for certain." Azurus especially as the head of that company would not abandon her. The boy was loyal. And if he wasn''t, he still wouldn''t abandon his future mother-in-law.

    "Then the streets it is. I pray to the Flames that they meet us there."

    "I too pray to Trillia," Adrian chimed in.

    Dahlia frowned. Even in this situation, he preached like a priest indoctrinating a group of illiterates. She paused. Arus had stopped running, standing at the wide steps leading up to the palace. Dahlia left the shadow of the indoors and stood close behind him, biting winter air greeting her from either side. At least a dozen armored guards stood out in the courtyard, all of them with swords drawn, blood running down their lengths as if the hands holding them were torn open. By the way they were standing, arched in a wide formation, staring at Arus and her, they didn''t seem to be allies. Beyond the courtyard, there were at least a hundred more guards standing at the mouth of the plateau, staring along the road leading down into the Nobility District. Not allies either. They were standing watch for the approaching Queen''s Guard making their way through the city.

    Dahlia heard Arus'' knuckles crack. They grew white as he squeezed Wind''s Eye''s hilt. "Stay close to me, your majesty," he whispered. "No telling who might be hiding behind a tree with a bow in hand.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Stay close he said, and yet there was no way for them to continue. She knew well that Arus couldn''t protect her if all twelve came running at him. He stood still at the top of the stairwell, the high ground his only advantage.

    "Should we maybe turn back and lock ourselves in a room?" Adrian tried.

    Dahlia glanced his way again. That wide chest and chiseled jawline no longer appealed to her as it once had. Not a sheen of sweat, she thought again. The suggestion was a reasonable one. But coming from him, it seemed lined with mal intent. And yet, Dahlia couldn''t bring herself to order Arus to kill the First Chancellor. What if he''s innocent? The question repeated itself in her mind. She still planned to throw him to the gallows to set peace back to the realm, but not yet. Just for this moment, she wanted to maintain her innocence. Wanted to stray from dirtying her hands. She feared she would collapse if she ordered such a deed and added another layer of nausea to the already mounding lump stuck at the base of her throat.

    "There are other officials still locked in their rooms," Adrian said.

    Arus glanced back. "You can turn back if you want, Chancellor. But there''s undoubtedly more traitors looking for us inside."

    "But there''s still a hundred Queen''s Guard right there. We can''t get through¡ª"

    "We can!" Arus said. "They''re here."

    Screams came from the end of the courtyard. Iron clashed against iron. The allied Guard had arrived. "Where is her majesty?" a voice bellowed. A familiar voice. A thunderous voice. Dahlia felt more tears in her eyes. A soothing voice. He was there. Eildred was there.

    "Well?" Arus demanded, staring down the twelve enemies at the stairwell''s base. "Come at me you Flaming traitors. You lot won''t have burials. I''ll burn your bodies and personally carry your ashes to the Torched Plains!"

    The traitorous knights slowly stepped forward, climbing up the steps with caution and spread along its full length. The stairs might be wide, but they narrowed as they rose. Only three people could stand abreast on the final steps that Arus stood behind.

    "There she is!" distant voices echoed.

    Dahlia turned to see more traitors inside the palace charging towards them. Surrounded. But those enemies were far down the hall and at least twenty seconds away. Dahlia swallowed. Since when had she thought of twenty seconds as a lot of time? Since I saw lives ended in mere fractions of a second. Third in rank of the Queen''s Guard, Arus. But the twelve foes before him were still trained knights of the same Order.

    Dahlia searched across the courtyard. No help there. Eildred and his allies were too far away.

    The first of the enemies neared the top of the steps. Arus swung down. The blow was parried, precious two seconds wasted. Two enemies tried rounding from each side. Arus kicked the first traitor, sending him tumbling down the stairs. He flashed towards the enemy on the right, thrusting fast enough for even Dahlia to feel the wind from the thrust. It went through a throat before the traitor could react. The enemy to Arus'' left aimed for his back but Arus managed to whip around in time, stepping down to avoid the killing stroke and severing the assailer''s hands. His weapon clattered to the ground and the man screamed.

    Dahlia, to her surprise, screamed herself and pushed the handless knight down the stairs, sending him tumbling into two others. A pocket of space had been cleared. Enemies to her rear screamed. Arus turned sideways to face the threat from both sides.

    "Your majesty!" Eildred cried from across the courtyard. He''d broken through the ranks of traitors.

    Dahlia met his eyes. Freedom. Safety. Love. All of that stared back at her and much more. She needed him. Needed his great shadow wrapped around her, hiding her. Needed his great back to shield her. Needed his great arms protecting her and his voice to wash away her fears. Her eyes fell back to the pocket of space at the side of the stairs.

    With a quick inhale, she leapt down, skipping half a dozen steps at once, cloak fluttering behind, landing in a stumble, Arus'' calling voice at her back, traitorous knights to her side. She took another leap, soaring over groaning enemies on the steps, and reached the stair''s base, knees pushing into the skirt of her dress and stealing her balance, making her stumble again. But she was past the traitors now. Nothing but an open courtyard lay between her and Eildred. She lifted her skirt above her shins and sprinted towards him.

    ***

    A few moments earlier

    "What''s happening?" Eildred cried as he sprinted towards the plateau. But the armored Queen''s Guard at its top didn''t budge. They had their weapons drawn and took a ready stance as the knights behind Eildred quickly closed the gap between them. He no longer needed his questions answered. He, the Captain of the Guard, was having blades from the Guard pointed his way. Unless he''d somehow been exiled by the crown in the time that he''d been away, he saw naught but traitors barring his path to the palace.

    "You curs! Where is her majesty?" he bellowed, pausing a few steps away from the enemy line. Allied knights were still a few strides behind. But Eildred didn''t care. He sunk low then lunged with all the might in his legs. The Thundersword could not be stopped. His thrust went through two exposed necks, the second standing right behind the first enemy. Eildred then swung to the side instead of pulling out, ripping open the already pierced throats and severing the heads of three others to his right before they had a chance to attack him. All of them had their helms on. Shame that he couldn''t tell who among the knights had turned against the queen.

    The traitors to Eildred''s right tried flanking him, but he stepped into the pocket of space he created, stepping on the plates of fallen men and going deeper into the enemy position. Fools the lot of them. He hadn''t taught them to be this poor in combat, standing so close to each other while wielding longswords. None of them were wearing their diamond shaped shields either. They probably hadn''t expected to meet the dispatched group of the Guard.

    Eildred swung with precision, aiming all his attacks at necks rather than risk his blade bouncing off or getting trapped within damaged armor plates. His assailers could only shuffle back to raise their weapons in defense. They couldn''t attack back or take appropriate stances with how tight their formation was. Enemies surrounded him, trapping him inside a circle, but the allied knights had reached the line and crashed into them. Chaos ensued. Iron clashed with iron, be it the sounds of armor striking armor or blade striking blade. Eildred only pushed forward, not intending to get caught up in the struggle for space. He slaughtered his former comrades as they stepped backwards and pushed against each other to gain distance.

    And then he was through. A corpse ridden courtyard lay before him. Dahlia, Sir L''Faleur, and Adrian stood at the steps of the palace gates, enemies barring their passage. Dahlia shoved a wounded man down the stairs. Eildred met his beloved queen''s eyes. "Your majesty!" he howled. Her cheek was torn, half her beautiful face painted red.

    He saw her lips part. Saw the glint of water in her eyes. She leapt down the stairs through a brief pocket of space, her cloak flying behind her like a black flag, and ran towards him, gold locks flowing. Adrian followed her down leaving Sir L''Faleur to fend off attacks alone. He''d manage, now that he wasn''t burdened by needing to protect another.

    Eildred sprinted towards Dahlia. He grit his teeth as shadows other than his own extended before him, screams for death at his back. He turned to find two traitors right behind him, both of them swinging at once. Eildred parried both blows, grunting at their weight. He let the force push him away to gain distance, before sinking to his knees and letting the Thundersword flash again, taking down one man with a blitzing thrust.

    The second was more hesitant, shuffling his feat to round around Eildred as if he were in a duel. But there were none who could match his skills in the Guard save for Azurus. He stepped in, seeking to make use of his opponent''s hesitance, winter wind pressing against his skin. Swords clashed. Without armor of his own to slow him down, Eildred felt more at ease when making precise attacks. Protection wasn''t required if there was no chance of being hit.

    The exchange lasted blinking moments. Eildred forced his opponent off balance and swatted aside their weapon before cutting them down. His heart pounded in both excitement and labour. He at last turned his attention towards his queen.

    ***

    Dahlia almost skipped down the courtyard, unable to contain her euphoria. All the bodies around didn''t bother her. The screams barely registered in her mind. Her gaze was fixed on the dashing knight before her. He danced around a former ally, triumphing within seconds. Dahlia knew she was blushing. Cold air pushed against her. But it wasn''t enough to stop her.

    I''m going to kiss that big oaf. I''m going to jump into his arms and ki¡ª

    Her breath caught in her throat as something grabbed at her wrist and pulled her back. Her arm clicked at the sudden tug and she let out a yelp. The First Chancellor stared into her eyes as she struggled against his tight grip. "I''m afraid I can''t let you go further, Dahlia."

    She frowned, trying to pull away his hand with her free hand. It didn''t budge. He only squeezed harder, causing her pain. "Let go! Let me go Adrian!" she complained. Her orders went unheard. She scratched at his hand and then beat at his chest. Tears of frustration gathered. She felt a child kept from her favorite toy. "Let g¡ª"

    The word caught between a gasp. Dahlia croaked, blinking for clarity. Sharp pain shot up her side. A growing red circle stained her sky blue gown. "Adrian?" she managed to say through all that pain.

    "Forgive me, Dahlia. But you knew, didn''t you? You eventually figured out who I was and what I was doing. I didn''t want to believe it at first, but your mannerisms and avoidance of me grew too suspicious. If only you''d accepted the Trillian faith." He ripped the dagger out of her side and plunged it back a little higher. She gasped again, clutching fistfuls of his coat and pushing against him. Adrian cupped her chin in his hand and pressed his lips against her open mouth. He pulled away and nibbled on her ear, holding her close. "I''ll have you know, I poisoned Madrivall. I wonder, how does it feel to learn you''ve lain with the man that made you a widow? I did much enjoy the nights we spent together. You treated me well," he said. "Very well." He rubbed her lips with a thumb. And then he let go, letting her fall.

    ***

    "No," Eildred breathed. "NO! Get away from her you bastard!"

    Adrian whispered something in Dahlia''s ear. Whispered loud enough for Eildred to catch his words. He screamed and raised his sword high. Dahlia fell to the grass with a thud, barely moving. Adrian produced a second dagger from within his coat and took a readied stance, smiling with teeth bared. His eyes went wide as Eildred''s shadow overwhelmed him.

    "Die!" Eildred roared, bringing his blade down and splitting the assassin in two straight down the middle. Blood sprayed out. Eildred dropped his weapon and fell upon Dahlia, protecting her from being sullied with such foul blood. "Dahlia. Dahlia, please open your eyes," he pleaded, holding her cheek. His tears fell upon her face and mixed with hers. She blinked, smiling up at him, a thin line of red spilling out the edge of her lips.

    "Eildred," she said, voice faint.

    "Don''t speak. We''ll get you tr¡ª" he stopped as she reached up and pushed a loose lock of his hair past his ear.

    "Eildred¡­ Did you love me?"

    He froze. A lump formed in his throat and his vision blurred. He nodded. "I did. I did love you, Dahlia. I always will."

    "Then kiss me, won''t you?"

    He did. He kissed her without any more hesitation. She grabbed a fistful of his hair as their lips locked for what felt like a mere breath''s length in time.

    "I loved you too," she said still smiling. "Watch Emeria for me, won''t you?"

    "No. No! I''ll get you treated. We can watch her together. We can mph!" his voice got caught as she pulled his head down and kissed him again. "Dahlia?" he said when they''d pulled away.

    Her smile withered. "I don''t want this to end," she wept. "I don''t want this moment to go away. I don''t want to die. I want to be with you always, Eildred. Why? Why didn''t you come sooner?"

    He couldn''t breathe. That lump had turned into a boulder in his throat. "I''m sorry," he croaked.

    Dahlia continued to cry. Her chest rose and fell quickly now. The grip she had on his hair loosened. She pressed down on the back of his head and kissed him again. This time, Eildred didn''t let go. Didn''t pull away. He held her there, lips pressed against hers, his tears mixing with hers, her pooling blood staining his shirt of mail.

    And then Dahlia went limp. Her hand slid off from the side of his head and fell to the ground. He wiped her tears and lay her head to rest.

    I''m sorry.

    Eildred screamed at the sky.

 Chapter 76: The Fall (Book 2, Chapter 39)

    <u>Chapter 39 - The Fall</u>

    Beautiful even in death. Eildred held his beloved''s head in his arms. Fate''s cruel hands overwhelmed him while battles raged around. Why did she have to love him back? Why did she admit it at the very end? Knowing that made her parting all the more agonizing. Would things be different if he''d hurried to the plateau any faster? Could he have saved her still?

    Why didn''t you come sooner?

    Eildred let out another scream. "I''m sorry," he wailed. It was over. He''d failed as a guard, as a knight, and as a person. He''d failed Lady Coraine. He''d failed his soldiers. And now, he''d failed both his country and his queen. Now, she lay dead before him. He no longer had anything left to fight for. The world was bleak. His sun was gone. At whom did he direct this sword? For what reason did he have to stand again?

    Watch over Emeria. Right. He still had his niece. "But I''m a disgraced knight," he muttered, staring at Dahlia''s closed eyes. "I have nothing¡­" Eildred tried convincing himself. All the fighting, the chaos, the screaming, it was draining. No rest from any of it. And yet, his fingers twitched with the desire to hold his sword. They sought comfort in the strength that came with. Fleeting embers of honor still lit a path, dim as their light may be. Eildred swallowed and then wiped his face clean of tears. He caressed Dahlia''s cheeks, finding his resolve within her beauty. He kissed her one last time. "I''m sorry," he whispered.

    Eildred had failed his queen in life. But he wouldn''t fail her in death. Funerals and mourning could wait. Dahlia still had a legacy. One that he still had a duty to protect. He could no longer fight for the present, but he could still carry on for the future. Princess Emeria''s time would come. Eildred let Dahlia''s head rest on the ground and slowly stood, turning his attention to the traitorous knights of the Queen''s Guard.

    Sir L''Faleur came running down, out of breath. He let out a gasp upon seeing the queen before Eildred''s feet. "I failed. Sir Aegis, I ¡ªforgive me. I¡ª"

    "You did your best, my friend. I too failed. But we''re standing, both you and I. The royal bloodline still exists. We no longer hold our swords for Queen Dahlia, but for Princess Emeria. Come. Let''s put an end to this insanity which stole so much from us."

    "The First Chancellor. We should have killed him all along. If only¡ª"

    "If only," Eildred cut Arus off. "We can take ''if onlys'' back for years. If only we''d better investigated Adrian Rinz''s origins. If only we hadn''t trained all these disloyal noblemen. We''ll be saying a lot more if only if we stand around any longer. I don''t want that." If only I''d admitted my love for you earlier. Might I have held you in my arms for longer?

    Arus nodded. He held out his sword. "Wind''s Eye. Her majesty allowed me to use it. It''s only right you have it now, Sir Aegis."

    Eildred traded his weapon for the Artifact. The heirloom of High House Lakris and a sword his younger brother once held. He glanced down at the First Chancellor''s split corpse. He hadn''t deserved to die so quickly. He''d deserved to suffer. Another ''if only'' to add to the list.

    Eildred turned his attention to the skirmish at the plateau''s edge. The traitorous knights had their backs turned. A strange noise stopped him dead in his tracks. A noise like that of whistling wind. He turned to find a pale blue circle hovering a foot above the ground just next to Dahlia''s body. Strange images of a different setting with moving people could be seen within it. Among them, a man with ashen hair.

    "What in Flames?" Sir L''Faleur murmured.

    Eildred took a stance, instinct screaming danger at him. The ashen haired man stepped out of the blue circle and onto the bloodstained ground, feet hitting the grass with a soft thump. He wore a white coat with golden weavings of vines and Trillium flowers. At his waist was a brilliant sheath with a golden hilt, a half disk like a sun at one end from where the blade should stem.

    "Odain," Eildred said through clenched teeth. His knuckles went white. Odain matched the very description of the Trillian faith''s Vicegerent. How it was he was appearing from thin air and a different place, Eildred did not know. His only guess was that Odain possessed Gatestones, of which there were vague recordings in historical texts. That would explain the strange levels of coordination that the insurrectionists had had.

    Behind Odain, a woman stepped out of the gate. One with bronze skin and many scars. She had long black hair and wore a cropped pelt around her top and a leather skirt that barely reached her knees. Her eyes were dead, red where they should be white and pupils diluted in color.

    "Odain?" Arus questioned, turning to Eildred, who only nodded in return. The milky eyed knight didn''t need another second''s worth of thought. He lunged, sword flashing. The woman stepped before Odain and swatted aside the heavy blade with her hands alone, delivering a swift strike to Arus'' jaw. The knight stumbled back, rubbing his face as he stood beside Eildred.

    "Mm. Quite unexpected," Odain said without urgency, his tone revealing not a hint of fear or shock. He stood over Dahlia''s corpse, feet a mere inch from touching her hair. "Things excelled faster than what I''d planned. The queen wasn''t supposed to die until after I''d arrived. I do have to make accurate historical recordings after all. Ah well, I''ll just have to imagine it."

    Eildred didn''t know why he was standing still. Odain. The man behind Xenaria''s turmoil. The man truly responsible for Dahlia''s death. Eildred''s blood boiled, and yet he saw no openings of attack. "Get away from her. Get away from her you filth!"

    The woman beside Odain bent her knees and hissed, pulling out two knives from a band around her thighs. There was something familiar about her sharp features and tall figure. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Duchess Serene.

    Odain frowned Eildred''s way. "It couldn''t be, could it? Did you perhaps love the queen? I must know, you see. A scholar''s merit comes from accuracy. Did she reciprocate your feelings, or was it one sided? Or is it simply that your loyalty runs very deep? Hmm. Stories will be told of this tragedy, I''m sure. But I do want to be the only one with the firsthand account of the incident."

    "Sir Aegis," Arus muttered.

    "I know," Eildred breathed. The puppeteer was standing before them. A chance to end it all. Eildred bent his knees, positioning his sword forward. He let the Thundersword loose, aiming for the woman first. Iron bit flesh, but it wasn''t a killing stroke. A mere flesh wound remained on the woman''s lean shoulder. She dodged?Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Arus followed up on the attack, but the woman ducked under his swing and kicked out his legs from beneath. She then pounced on him with knives raised. Eildred swung at her neck and she leapt away with the agility of a hare, retaining a nick on her cheek. She lunged back in with a feint, falling to her knees at the last second to avoid Eildred''s vertical swing and sliding on her knees to reach him with her torso bent back. She then jumped up and cut up with one of her knives, tearing at Eildred''s mail shirt as he jumped back.

    Arus had recovered and came at the woman again. Eildred kept a wary eye upon Odain. The weapon at his waist had to be the Thousand Sun Sword. But the Vicegerent showed no signs of interfering.

    The woman again managed to bring Arus to fall and somehow dodged another blitzing thrust, obtaining a cut on her opposite shoulder now. She lunged as fast as Eildred had and kneed him in the gut, hacking at his face with her knives. He brought his arms up, suffering multiple cuts along his thick muscles. The woman opened her mouth, inhaling as if preparing to scream. She gasped instead as Arus'' blade bit into her calf. She leapt back, taking distance from the both of them, bleeding from multiple points now. She couldn''t possibly last much longer and her speed had to have been culled with that leg wound.

    Eildred bent low, preparing to use his Thundersword flash a third time. No one had ever survived it before. It stung his pride to have already missed twice.

    "That''s quite enough, Tavi," Odain said. "Come back here now." The woman obeyed, running over to him. He gripped the hilt of his blade and placed a hand on her chest. All of her wounds closed in an instant, leaving only the trails of a rolled down drop of blood from where each cut had been.

    Eildred grit his teeth. It wasn''t fair. They were severely outmatched in terms of magical power alone. And this woman had skill enough to last in a duel against both him and Sir L''Faleur. She was near matching in height and the outlines of her muscles showed with the slightest of movements, stretching out the scar marks on her skin. What kind of training had she been put through?

    Odain bent down and examined the two corpses before him. "A clean cut," he said, nodding towards Adrian. "Shame. I had more use for him." He then took a closer look at Dahlia, feeling a lock of her hair between his fingers. "Such bright hair. An oft recurring trait within the Lakris family."

    "Don''t touch her!" Eildred bellowed. "Don''t you dare Flaming touch her. I''ll kill you!"

    "As if that wasn''t your intent to begin with," Odain muttered. "I hate redundancy. It really gives us scholars a bad reputation. Reiterating said sentences in different ways to seem intelligent. Yet, it does nothing but make the author look a senile fool who hasn¡¯t read over his work. Scholars these days are shams. Not like the Astari from my time. The truly wise, eager and benevolent. Kill me, was it? Hmm." Odain looked at the sky and let out an elongated sigh. "I doubt that. Not even time can kill me. Tavi, go and deal with those pesky knights. Their screams are getting on my nerves. Swiftly, if you don''t mind. The losing side seem to be our allies, so don''t kill them."

    The woman nodded. She took in a deep breath. Air seemed to spin around her and make her hair flutter. The skin on her scarred back tore open and a pair of mosaic wings sprouted therefrom. And then she disappeared, a gust of wind following. She moved faster than Eildred could see, tearing into the ranks of allied knights skirmishing at the courtyard''s edge. She pulled away and hovered in the air above them, holding out her arms on either side. Yellowed grass was ripped from the ground and then rained down upon the knights like a storm of needles. Men screamed as they were punctured from multiple points. Armor could protect them from only so much. The gaps within the plates were more than enough for them to suffer mortal wounds from the needles.

    "Useful isn''t she?" Odain commented. He had the Thousand Sun Sword in his hands now.

    Eildred turned his attention back to the Vicegerent. Odain was smirking, confident. Arus howled while charging. Eildred followed up on the attack from a different side.

    Odain met Arus'' charge with one of his own. Iron clashed with a blade of gold. For a moment, they stood in a deadlock and Eildred thought he had an opportunity to take Odain''s head. But the Thousand Sun Sword melted through Arus'' iron one in a breath and delivered a mortal wound that sizzled at the touch. Eildred reached his foe a hair''s breadth too late. Odain deflected his attack, and rammed the golden blade''s pommel into Eildred''s gut, sending him reeling. He followed up with a swift strike to the jaw next. Eildred''s vision clouded. He felt himself fall. Felt his sword slip from his hands.

    "Wind''s Eye. Didn¡¯t know it was in Xenaria. It''s been a long time since I last saw this weapon."

    Eildred blinked to clear his sight, feeling around for his weapon. But Odain held Wind''s Eye now. Weaponless, Eildred stood anyway. His gaze flitted towards the others. Arus was down and unmoving. The woman was still slaughtering the knights, moving even trees with her deadly magic. His chest ached in despair. He felt folds of frustration appear on his face. The lack of agency, the feeling of being utterly powerless before a greater force, of being subjugated when he was the last pillar standing, it threatened to consume him.

    If only¡­

    Liquid fear ran through Eildred''s veins. But he chose to fight anyway. Fight for the future. What a short fight that turned out to be. He curled his fists and roared. "Admirable," Eildred heard Odain say.

    Everything ended.

    ***

    Odain crinkled his nose at the smell of all the blood. The palace grounds were littered with bodies. A familiar sight. Tavi glided over to him, her wings disappearing as she landed on her feet. The traitorous knights, a few dozen of them remaining only, stared at her with revering expressions, some muttering with hands clasped as if praying to her.

    "Good job, Tavi," Odain said. She nodded giving a small smile. She''d learned to cherish compliments since having her mind broken.

    Odain turned to the traitors. "Clean this place up. Throw this one into the dungeons," he said, kicking Eildred over. That despairing expression at the end spoke volumes. Another powerful Heartless candidate. Though I''ve still yet to figure the proper Chronary phrasing.

    There was a lot of work ahead. Bringing the heir to the capital for one. Xenaria had been ruled by a matriarch for centuries. The populous could get skeptical if he just chose to seize the throne now. The only issue remaining was the Tarmian Empire. With them sieging Arcaeus Peak, the princess was trapped there. "To bail them out with my forces or not¡­" Odain muttered. No. Better to let this play out. It could end with Duke Serene, Xenaria''s final bastion, being severely weakened or even falling.

    Tavi could always be used to break Emeria out. The princess needed to arrive and quell the rebellion herself to be accepted by the people. Quell the rebellion by permitting me to mobilize the Trillian militia. That would cement the religion into Xenaria and allow for a smooth takeover of the nation. All that remained was to convince the princess to wear a Crown of Control Artifact.

    Odain sighed. Xenaria felled at last. Something he''d dreamt of for so long.

    Tavi knelt down next to him, examining Queen Dahlia''s corpse. Odain watched her. She''d never taken interest in corpses before. Never taken interest in anything aside from her orders for that matter. She only spoke if asked to as well. Tavi leaned down as if examining Dahlia''s skin. She then tugged on the black cloak until it pulled away and ran her fingers through the silver fur at its top. A rich cloak suited for winter. An expected luxury for royalty to have. Odain crossed his arms. Was she taking interest in the cloak, stained as it now was? Or was she simply cold?

    Tavi brought the cloak up to her face and took a deep breath of the fur at the top. "Ta¡­ Ra¡­" she said. She frowned, sniffing again, scratching her hair and then setting the cloak down before standing up.

    Odain watched her with narrowed eyes as she awaited her next orders. Ta and ra. She''d made those sounds once before since returning from her post at Oakwood Forest. She''d been assigned there to kill Eildred, and yet had returned empty handed. That had been a matter of unclear orders after all. There were hundreds of men who could match Eildred''s description. There would have been no way for Tavi to know what he looked like.

    Odain shrugged and turned away, motioning for her to follow. All he had left to do was wait for the results of the siege.

 Chapter 77: Face of Death (Book 2, Chapter 40)

    <u>Chapter 40 - Face of Death</u>

    Elizia pushed herself upright, groaning. Her head hurt, her attempts at sleeping going rather poorly for hours. It was near pitch black in her tent. There had to be at least a few hours left before dawn. She yawned aloud while stretching her arms, uncomfortably aware of the wretched state of her hair and face. A set of her clothes and armaments were neatly folded to one side. But she made no move to wear them just yet.

    Her injury had lain to waste several days of time. She touched her skin where her wound should have been. Lina, the head physic of her camp, said a scar line remained. Elizia couldn''t feel it with her rough fingertips. Her wound had closed within two days, her Healing ability near as remarkable as her mother''s. She breathed deep, feeling for any weaknesses mayhap left over by the poison in her system.

    I can move. It''s not the same paralyzing toxin used on mother.

    A lingering ache still remained in her joints, though, whether that was the after effects of the poison or due to nature''s hand, she could not tell.

    She sprawled on her back, groaning at the stiffness of her muscles. The makeshift bed had absorbed much of her body heat and was serving to be more a nuisance than a resting place. She threw her blanket half off and stared at the dark top of the tent cloth until the cold of night forced her to curl beneath the sheets again. Elizia winced at her cramps. Nature just had to take its course now of all times.

    Lieutenant Faren was managing the camp well in her stead, sending rounds of scouts to survey the surroundings and keeping record of resource use. But the camp was stuck in one place, wasting away food rations rather than moving through the lands in search of insurrectionists razing villages. The Queen''s Guard in the meantime had returned to Exaltyron with Azurus remaining. That was well. Elizia had a friend to speak to and was grateful for his gesture of kindness.

    Hushed voices came from the mouth of the tent. Elizia could make out vague silhouettes of spear bearing guards standing outside. The tent flap opened and Azurus stepped inside as if her thoughts had somehow summoned him. Perfect timing. Any longer alone with nothing to do, and boredom might have killed her. She thought of sitting up before remembering that she was bare beneath.

    Azurus stood over her, as if examining her from above. Elizia could hear his breaths. He then turned and began walking towards the entrance again. "Odd time to be visiting an unclothed woman," Elizia said.

    "You were awake, El?"

    "Unfortunately. You can''t sleep either?" She thought she saw him nod as he sat down cross legged before her. She could hardly make out his features in the dark.

    "How are you feeling?"

    "Well," Elizia half lied. Another half day''s rest and I should be able to ride a horse. The female physics didn''t need to worry about any such thing, travelling with supply wagons that trailed the cavalry whenever they moved. Half of them are well past the age anyway. "How are the soldiers faring?"

    "There''d been a tense atmosphere hanging over the camp when you were hurt. The soldiers have since found a second wind now that they know you''ll live. Faren cried on that first night but he''s managing well, working hard. Your men are barely eating though, holding to rationing their portions. It''s¡­ a bit hard," Azurus said, stomach grumbling as if to prove his point.

    "One of many hardships of war," Elizia sighed. "One of the lesser ones in fact." She regretted saying those words. Azurus had been on the worse end of it, seeing what horrors a war could bring to an innocent family. One that he''d fallen in love with and had seen as his own.

    "A trifling hardship, really," he said, voice soft and head tilted up as if he were questioning the heavens.

    "Missing eating our luxurious vegetables, are we?" Elizia quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

    "Never," he snorted. "Brussel sprouts are the bane of my existence." His stomach growled again.

    "Mhm," Elizia teased. She pulled her arms out from under the blanket and rested the back of her head in her hands. "I''m sure villages we pass by might spare us some cabbage heads or broccoli if we asked." Azurus shuffled back as if she had those on her at that moment. She laughed, clenching her belly at the sharp pains that came with. It was worth it. Bearing mild pain for these small pleasures was worth it. Elizia had read enough accounts of past battles and worn journals of long dead generals to know joy was seldom found on active battlefields.

    "What''s something you don''t like?"

    She snorted. Guts were distasteful. Liver, kidney, trips; gross, all that. "And why would I willingly expose my weakness?"

    "I asked nicely," he muttered, sensing a losing argument.

    Elizia rolled her eyes. She sat up, clutching her blanket in a fist against her chest. "Ah, and asking nicely, I''m sure, has always resulted in one getting what one wants." If that were the case, beggars wouldn''t be begging and thieves wouldn''t be stealing.

    "Uh," Azurus said, rubbing his neck and avoiding her gaze.

    Elizia blushed, realizing how suggestive her words had seemed with her sitting the way that she was, the entirety of her side visible to him. She then smirked, seeing another opportunity to poke at Azurus with. "What? Never seen a naked woman? You''ve never had the urge to visit an establishment?"

    "No!" he said, near shouting.

    Honest to a fault. "You love Emeria that much hmm?" He didn''t say a word. Shame it was dark. She knew he was blushing, but couldn''t make it out. "Well, surely you''ve seen her naked at least," she teased, lying back down.

    "Er."

    Elizia blinked, mouth agape. He really was poor at lying when Emma was involved. "You mean you have!?" He darted out of the space before she could ask any further questions. She was left alone again in the dark, blushing herself at her own thoughts. She let out a sigh.

    Part of her was jealous towards Emeria and Azurus. She wondered what it was like to have someone like that to love. Was it different to how she felt towards her parents? Her mother had shared her love story more than once. She''d never had much interest in it as a child, but those words seemed sweet now and instilled a yearning, like a peach pie after a tiring day. Something she longed for but had not the slightest as to where it could be found. She''d never felt a deep admiration towards anyone but her friends and family and mentors.

    Elizia shook her head, slowly sitting upright again. Better to occupy her thoughts with logistics. Such luxury thoughts could wait until after this war was won. Food we''ll be lucky to procure from settlements. Firewood might be spared if traded for with extra horses from fallen soldiers. Medical herbs¡­ I should check if there''s enough for the winter. Sickness could easily arise, especially if our rations start getting really low.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    What if I never fall in love? Will I marry someone I don''t have any feelings for? What then? Nights with no morning to look forward to¡­ That was how mother described a life without father¡ª

    Flames, I can''t keep my head straight!

    ***

    Azurus rubbed his arms. He''d left his cloak in his tent and walking around the camp at night in nothing but a shirt and trousers did not serve him well. Condensation from his exhales were thick. A field of clouds filled the sky, blocking out any of the moons'' radiance. Few campfires still burned this late at night, most of them small and dying. But they were bright enough to draw his gaze.

    Just like the outline of Elizia''s shape. A vague warmth spread on across his face. He vehemently shook his head, trying to rid himself of immoral imagination. Elizia was a close friend and nothing more. His faith was owned by Emeria and Emeria alone.

    Azurus'' stomach growled again. He''d only had a runny stew made with scraps of jerky mixed in. Its taste had been of salted hot water with chunks of hard and chewy flesh that got stuck in between teeth more often than it end up in the stomach. The supplies had more grains and the like to spare, but they weren''t being handed out, fear of how long the rebellion might last forcing caution in the use of resources.

    "One of the many hardships of war," Azurus grumbled to himself. House Serene''s soldiers were well disciplined. Any normal army would be complaining about their empty bellies by now, seeing only to current needs rather than future ones. Azurus gripped the hilt at his waist, hoping it would grant him strength and stave off his hunger. Instead it only chilled his palms and he was forced to blow between his hands and rub them together.

    Burn it all. I should have brought my leather gloves at least. He found himself at the camp''s edge. The surroundings were attended to by watchful sentries rotating shifts every few hours. They stood like stone statues, unmoving in the cold with hands wrapped around spears and crossbows hooked to their belts. It would be easy to mistake them as such if it weren''t for the occasional yawns or scratching of itches. Azurus nodded to some he passed by, earning sharp salutes.

    It began to snow, light at first like stars falling from the sky. Azurus kept his hands between his pits as he carried on walking, unsure where to. There was a certain allure to the plains in the dark. A calmness that allowed him to keep a singular mind free of any demoralizing thoughts. Just what he thought he needed since he couldn''t sleep. He stood still when a good two hundred paces from the camp, holding out his hands to catch snowflakes. They turned to droplets before he could examine their majesty.

    He closed his eyes, inhaling ice as a breeze pierced through his shirt and rustled his wavy hair. He conjured an image of the brightest star ¡ªthat of a smiling Emeria. An image he created each night before going to sleep. Her memory kept him moving. Despite how his atrocities and failures haunted him, Emeria''s image stayed still like a sphere of luminite within a windowless room. Without her light, that room was suffocating.

    He opened his eyes, snowfall a little stronger now. He dusted off his shoulders and hair and turned to return to camp when he heard the snorts of a horse. A lone rider was slowly approaching the camp, his horse large like those of the Lotus Knights. Its fur seemed black too, though it easily could have been a dark brown. The rider had a small mound tied to his pack. He didn''t seem to be from a round of scouts that constantly surveyed the surroundings.

    A peddler and at this time of night?

    Sentries around the perimeter didn''t seem to have seen this man yet. That, or they assumed a lone approaching rider was just a scout. Azurus wrapped a shaky hand around his hilt and approached this slow moving rider. "Should''ve brought my gloves," he thought aloud. "State your name and purpose, traveller," Azurus said, stopping a few paces short of the rider, each word sending out puffs as if he had a lit pipe in his mouth. The horse snorted out a cloud as the hooded rider tugged on its reins. Their face was veiled. Azurus half drew his sword. That scarf could pass for winter protection, but the way it revealed eyes only made Azurus think otherwise.

    The rider dismounted, stumbling, but keeping their long cloak wrapped tight around their body. Another gesture that could be forgiven as merely warding off the cold, but that cloak could just as easily be hiding weapons too. "Name and purpose, traveler," Azurus repeated.

    The person stumbled about, moving to the side at times and then forward. "Travelling peddler," he said, voice lingering on that last syllable.

    Drunk? I suppose alcohol does keep the body warm. "You won''t find any customers within this encampment." Azurus nibbled on his tongue at the memory of having purchased a circlet from a peddler.

    "You leave the selling to me, boy," the man said, sniffling. Or was that a hiccup? "Just find me a fire to make ashes by."

    Azurus frowned. A fire, he agreed, would be nice right about now with snowfall picking up. But that word choice was odd. The man was undoubtedly drunk what with the way he spoke and walked. Azurus circled around him, still keeping up caution, and grabbed the horse''s reins. "Follow along then. There might be a few breathing fires, though I can''t guarantee any extra firewood put to use for one man." A stranger, but perhaps not an ill meaning one. Kindness paid, and Azurus could always set guards to watch this man. He led the horse away. "Follow along now," he repeated, louder.

    The drunk stumbled along behind Azurus, mumbling. "Fire to sit by. Fire to sing why. Fire to burn a mansion with. Fire to burn some children with."

    Winds howled, carrying with it a distinct metallic ring.

    Azurus ground his teeth. "What did you just say?" he asked, turning, glaring. Memories of the burnt Draumen manor resurfaced, prodding at his heart and wrapping that image of Emeria he''d created with tendrils of despair. No! I will not succumb. The peddler seemed to glare back, now holding out a longsword, cloak unpinned and lying like a mud pool at his feet. Azurus drew his own and wrapped his cold hands around the hilt, enviously eyeing his opponent''s gloves. "Who are you?" he demanded.

    "Death!" the man howled. "I am death!" And then he charged forward like a madman.

    Sentries from the camp shouted as soon as the sound of clashing blades echoed through the open field. They''d be here soon and this drunk assailant could be taken into custody. Azurus just had to hold out until¡ª "Gah!" He stumbled back, feeling a sting on his upper arm. A slit had been made in his shirt and a dark stain grew beneath it. He frowned at his opponent. Someone random had gotten the better of him?

    "Death," the man said again, stretching the word out. His voice sounded eerily familiar through the cloth veiling his face. He charged again, swinging his sword with the speed and precision of a trained soldier. Azurus stepped back parrying the blows, heart pounding. The cold sapped at his breath and stamina very quickly. His joints were stiff and his teeth chattering. His arms shook from the ringing impact of each parry. This man was skilled. Very skilled. But not to the point that Azurus couldn''t win.

    If only it weren''t so Flaming cold.

    A heavy gust blew flakes of snow into his eyes. He yelped as cold iron bit into his cheek. Enough of this child''s play! Azurus opened up distance and then screamed to ignite his own fury, snow blowing into his mouth. He charged his opponent with renewed vigor, sniffling to stifle a runny nose. His ears, numb from the cold, hurt even more with each clash, the ring of striking irons seeming louder than it would in an enclosed space. But he was no longer on the back foot. Azurus screamed each time he swung his sword, a cloud coming out from his mouth. He forced his opponent back, cornering him against his own horse. The beast whinnied and trotted away from the battle.

    "Death!" the man shrieked. He charged and attacked with less precision but more fury, each attack bearing more weight.

    Azurus tried finessing his way past with skill but that added weight of the attacker''s blade along with his already stiff muscles was making dancing hard. A stark fear crept into him. The fear of death. An overwhelming feeling he''d last felt when dueling Sir Aegis during his graduation ceremony. This was another real battle. Not some duel amidst allies. Not a one sided massacre of poor clothed peasants. A real fight where someone else was trying to kill him just as they had at Oakwood Forest.

    The shouting of camp guards grew louder. I just need to hold out a little longer. But he wasn''t being given the opportunity. The attacker continued screaming as his arms moved with renewed fervor, seemingly getting faster now. I can''t, Azurus thought. He couldn''t hold on. His own body was moving out of reflex, his mind unable to keep up with the movements. Breathing in the cold air was making his head throb at the sides. Phlegm backed up in his throat. Azurus screamed, channeling his desire to live into his limbs and willing them to move faster.

    He deflected and dodged and swung then thrust. Another cold sting spread in a line across his torso, at the same time as his thrust. His sword scraped his opponent''s arm. The man barely grunted and continued his unrelenting assault. Everything became a blur. Only the shouting of guards and clanging of blades were apparent. The two swords must have met at least a half dozen times within the span of a second. At the very end, Azurus at last managed to blow the attacker''s guard open and thrust into an open torso, impaling the attacker through the heart.

    "Death," the man croaked, dropping his weapon. "Why¡­ did you¡­kill them?"

    Azurus breathed hard, staring into his assailer''s eyes, holding the sword there to keep the man from falling. A familiar set of eyes. A scar on the cheek. "No. You''re not¡­" he pulled the face veil down.

    A blizzard raged between him and a dying Radis Draumen.

 Chapter 78: Siege of Arcaeus Peak (Book 2, Chapter 41)

    <u>Chapter 41 - Siege of Arcaeus Peak</u>

    Emeria''s eyes snapped open. They flickered across her dark room.

    Nothing.

    And then the bed vibrated again. She pulled her thick blanket over her head and lay still, sweating. A long moment passed before her bed vibrated again. The bookshelf across from her rattled. She bit her lip, daring a peek from beyond her sheets. Her full senses slowly returned and lines of frustration appeared on her face. She sat up and huffed, running the back of her hand against a layer of moisture plastered on her neck. What am I doing being afraid of the dark at this age.

    Just in case, she leaned over and checked beneath the bed. The room vibrated again and her forehead struck the side of the bedframe. "Flaming Flames and Ash," she cursed. Dust on the floor had shifted with the vibration. Emeria threw her legs over and sat at the edge of her bed. Her soles touched the cold stone floor. A book fell on its spine and opened to the marked page. A book she''d been reading before bed. She picked it up and dusted off the cover. ''Militarisms and Governance of Atramus Serene'' the title read. A journal copy of Elizia''s second great grandfather. Or the third. Emeria wasn''t quite sure. Exhausted with all the books in her own chambers and the fiction works in Duke Serene''s room, she''d plucked a piece from Elizia''s chambers instead.

    It was no wonder she found no time for boys, studying saw dust works like these. Elizia was pretty, Emeria thought. And that had earned her some degree of attention. But Emeria could bet a wardrobe''s worth of dresses that any conversations her friend had managed to hold with interested parties turned bland and led to them losing interest.

    Emeria shut the book and placed it on her bedside table. It was worth reading if she needed to fall asleep quickly. She poked her feet into a pair of wool slippers and shuffled to the window. She pulled aside the drapes to let moonlight pour inside. There were red lines across one of her arms, the one she''d evidently been sleeping on.

    Outside, the garrison walls were rife with activity. Torches burned. Archers loosed in unison. One corner saw melee combat. Emeria peered to see the tips of ladders leaning against the ramparts. An occasional soldier jumped up over the edge, only to be impaled by Xenarian spears shortly after. It didn''t seem much from her high position. She wasn''t close enough to hear the screams or see the gore or smell sweat and blood. Flames, why am I repeating the vulgar descriptions from that book? To Emeria, it almost seemed like she was watching a play from a backrow seat. An exceptionally well-choreographed play, but a play nonetheless.

    Had she ever sat at the back when watching a performing troupe?

    She shook her head. The dainty thoughts of a sheltered princess is what that was. But then, what was she now if not a sheltered and spoiled princess. Stuck behind thick stone walls while men died outside to keep an enemy nation from reaching her.

    A boulder soared through the sky and struck the ground, causing everything to rumble, vibrations reaching Emeria. That''s what had broken her slumber. The boulder had fallen short a few dozen meters of the wall. She''d been assured that the Empire''s boulder throwers didn''t have the range to reach the walls.

    The first night of the siege and already a fierce struggle. The day had passed quiet with naught more than a standoff. The Empire had decided to do a night strike instead. Far beyond the walls, their wide camp stretched all around Arcaeus Peak. Orange lights littered the blackness around, seeming a sky with many flickering stars. Emeria''s hands moved of their own accord, fingers curling around the window''s handle, twisting it, and then pulling it open slow. The hinges creaked. A cold breeze brushed along her face and through her gold locks. It kissed her open neckline, chilling her insides as the air touched the sweat on her skin. She hugged herself.

    The screaming and clattering became very apparent now. She could more clearly see the sprays of dark liquid in that one corner of the wall. And yet, she couldn''t pull her eyes away. She could only rest her elbows on the frigid windowsill and stare as a child would when seeing a colorful play. This was a dark play. One with black and grey and pale silver. One with more incoherent screams than lyrical lines. One that showed the truth of the sword more than it showed the romance of it, a romance she''d chased after for so long. Emeria looked at the calluses on her right palm. Her efforts seemed so distant now. So worthless.

    The bell tower by the gates rung loud, their sounds bouncing against the walls and stretching across the plains below. Soldiers on the wall shuffled. A detached battalion of archers marched towards the gates while a stationed battalion behind the walls climbed the stairs to take their place. A battering ram making their way up the path?

    Battering rams are most effective when a portion of the walls have been taken. The mental strain that is put on the defenders saps at their morale, causing them to crumble as it dawns on them that hope is lost.

    ¡­Boom!

    ¡­Boom!

    ¡­Boom!

    Each strike against the doors like a roar of thunder, a voice of god bellowing that he stands with the attackers!

    Else, the only other good use of a battering ram is to create a mountain of bodies with rivers of blood trickling from the top, from the sides, and from within like the veins of minerals and precious metals found within mountains. Or like melting ice atop a high peak. Or like¡ªIf you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "Flames!" Emeria cried, striking her closed fist against the sill. Why was she remembering those stupid lines from that stupid book? And why was brutality being described so vividly like a poet reciting a romantic lay? She shut her window and clamped down on her ears, forcing herself back into bed.

    Sleep didn¡¯t come. The room vibrated still, every once in a while. Emeria turned on her side, finding a fresh section of her pillow that wasn''t already hot. It quickly turned hot and she huffed, frowning. Her eyes settled on the book at her bedside. She tossed her blanket aside with the fury of a puppy and opened that cursed book back to her marked page, holding it close to the light from her window rather than bothering to light a candle.

    ***

    Kalin grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him in. "Why weren''t they spotted earlier, soldier?" he seethed. His officer swallowed as his dark eyes moved this way and that, as if searching for words on Kalin''s shoulders. "I asked you a question!" Kalin demanded. The cold of night was but a cube of ice melting fast beneath his anger. "There were three whole squads stationed on this side of the wall and not one of you saw our enemies creeping up? An extra battalion of archers had to be shifted because so many were allowed so close!"

    The first night of the siege and his soldiers were already slacking off? They came wearing cloaks of black, crawling their way up the incline. The front gate walls had the least amount of stationed soldiers because making it up that incline without thick shields to cover was foolish. The number stationed should have been enough to cull any enemies making their way there but Kalin''s soldiers had blundered. A second set of ladders had almost been put up. If the front saw combat on the walls, then bringing a ram up the path would be an all too easy a task without archers to stop them.

    The officer swallowed. Lemul was his name. Kalin had made sure to check over who''d be watching where and when a little earlier. "It was, er, dark, grace," Lemul stammered.

    "Dark? Flaming Dark?" Kalin screamed. "A man in an alley sticks a knife in your gut, and you''ll what? Tell your wife it was dark outside? No you Flaming won''t. Because you''ll be lying in that alley a dead man with all your possessions robbed!"

    The other archers on the wall murmured, staring at the one sided confrontation. Now that the sneaking enemy had been forced to retreat, they were all standing watch, eyes peering at the dark plains for any more crawlers. But their ears were focused on the conversation at the side. Men from the originally posted three squads shuffled their feet. They were all to blame, but their superior officer was taking the heat.

    "Forgive me, Your Grace," Lemul stammered. "It won''t happen again."

    "Give your apologies to the soldier with an arrow in his shoulder." The enemies had gotten close enough to the wall to actually return fire to its defenders. "I don''t care for whether it won''t happen again or not right now, I care for wanting to know why it had happened to begin with!" Kalin said, gripping that collar tighter to the point where the officer looked to be struggling with breathing. Kalin let go, taking in a deep breath himself.

    What am I doing?

    To anyone watching or listening, this seemed hard discipline. But screaming like that left Kalin feeling ill and heavy. Discipline at Arcaeus was dealt in action. Rule breakers were forced into doing hard labor to contemplate their actions or even outright imprisoned for a length of time. Never had Kalin screamed at or insulted his soldiers when upset with them. I''m angry. Angry at Kazir''s words and I''m taking it out on them. That face, that proud bare and tall sitting back, that black scorpion tattoo on that still lean abdomen, it infuriated Kalin. He closed his fists just in remembrance and Lemul took a half step back at the gesture. It almost felt like taking Kazir''s eyes hadn''t been enough. That scar and those white eyes just seemed makeup on his face.

    ''I still see yet. We Wickar train our senses to the extreme''. Taking his eyes hadn''t been enough. He''d retaliated by taking Sar''tara. Not taking her entirely, no, but taking enough of her to leave Kalin in constant torment. "I should''ve killed you. Eternal Flames knows I should have killed you," he muttered.

    "Me, Your Grace?" Lemul asked, going ghastly pale.

    "Kazir. I should have killed him that night like he asked. Instead, we''re here."

    "Oh. Er¡­" Lemul suddenly bowed low. "Forgive us, Lord Serene. We weren''t paying attention. We were speaking among ourselves about¡­"

    Kalin frowned. "About?"

    "Well, about Lady Serene and the Second Princess. His taunts, Kazir''s I mean, they were angering to say the least. Angering to the point where we discussed what we would do to the man if he were ever captured. It is my fault for not keeping the squads in line and talking about ''ifs'' rather than focusing on the present. It''s just, poisoning Lady Serene already left such a grim atmosphere in Metsiphon. And then there were those threats aimed at Second Princess Elizia as well and we¡­ we lost ourselves in conversation."

    Kalin sighed. They were good men, loyal and honest. They admired Sar''tara as much as he loved her and were as devastated by her fall. Scholars and servants still searched across Illusterra for an antidote to the Decade''s Curse. Better men from around the world had been seeking a cure for the vile poison for centuries. None had been found. Kalin knew in his heart that it was pointless. The men knew it as well. But none of them wanted to believe it. All of them clung to a string of hope. So long as Sar''tara was still breathing, they would continue to hang from that string.

    The threat to Elizia, too, was a constant nag on Kalin''s thoughts. He wouldn''t put it past Kazir to have sent assassins after her. In fact, given his smug tone, he likely already had. Kalin felt hot beneath his armor. He could feel a drop of sweat at the side of his head making its way through his hair. He wondered if sending Elizia out was a mistake.

    Dwelling on a past decision rather than the present.

    She was outside, somewhere in Xenaria. Lieutenant Faren would keep Elizia safe. He wouldn''t make the same mistake twice. All Kalin could do now was put his faith in them and focus on his own task here. He pressed a hand to Lemul''s shoulder and squeezed. "Don''t let it happen again, soldier. Or I will strip your rank and have you scrubbing restroom bowls for a year."

    The officer saluted, gulping at that last bit and then nodding furiously.

    "That goes for every archer on this wall!" Kalin bellowed. Nervous murmurs were followed by a call for salute from Officer Lemul and they all obeyed.

    Kalin rested his arms on the parapets of the ramparts and stared into the horizon. Thousands of campfires surrounded the garrison. He glanced to his left where a set of ladders had been placed. Tarmia must have lost at least a hundred men in trying to set those up and a few dozen more who''d tried climbing. The walls were quiet now, the ladders kicked down. Archers were no longer firing. And boulders no longer soared through the sky.

    The Empire had retreated. So came an end to the first day of the siege.

 Chapter 79: What its Like (Book 2, Chapter 42)

    <u>Chapter 42 - What It''s Like</u>

    It was a cruelty that had stolen sleep from Azurus this night. A cruelty that had led him to stray out on the field alone. A cruelty that had brought on such harsh weather and stolen his sharp sword skills.

    A cruelty named fate.

    "I didn''t do it," Azurus repeated, hands running through and pulling at his snow damped hair. He sat on a crate next to a campfire.

    "I know you didn¡¯t," Elizia said. She had her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders to stave off the cold. The hood of her cloak shrouded the top of her face.

    "I didn''t kill Lady Roxanne or her family. Nor were they rebels. We were framed. But Sir Draumen, he¡­" The flames crackled. There was no chance of recovery. Sir Draumen was pronounced dead when the physics arrived on the site where Azurus had fought his former mentor. He didn''t understand what grand purpose it served the perpetrators to have a single knight of the Queen''s Guard turn on his order. What good did it serve to villainize the Guard when those reports would easily be denied by all members that had been with Azurus when they''d discovered the Draumens and their burnt estate? It was as if someone had a personal vendetta against him. Against me, an orphan with nothing of note to trace back.

    That, or cruel fate was to blame.

    "I didn''t do it," he mumbled again. Sir Draumen''s pack was full of emptied liquor bottles. Enraged and in a drunken stupor, he had come with the intent to kill and Azurus had no choice but to respond with equal force. He was the superior swordsman, but the weather had robbed him of half his skill. Disarming his mentor would have been a simple task if his limbs weren''t so slogged by the cold. "I didn''t kill his family, but I did kill him."

    Elizia sat down on the sliver of empty space on the crate, gently nudging Azurus with her body in a silent plea for space. She held his head and forced it down on her shoulder, wiping away his cold and wet tears. Shadows of her loose hair flickered at her side beneath the light of the campfire. Azurus clutched her hand tight, finding more warmth in her companionship than the flames.

    "El?" he said after a long while.

    "Mm?"

    "I did kill them didn''t I?"

    "What do you mean?" she asked.

    "I left her," Azurus said, voice caught in his throat. A droplet fell to his thigh. "I left Lady Roxanne unguarded against my better judgement. I asked and she told me to just leave. I listened to her instead of myself. I abandoned her family knowing rebels¡ª"

    "Azurus, stop!" Elizia cried. He was taken aback, ears ringing from her sudden shout. "Stop dwelling on what has happened. It was no fault of yours. You couldn''t have known so just stop!"

    "But still¡ª"

    "No!" she shouted again, rising to her feet and drawing the gaze of nearby soldiers. "Don''t beat yourself up over it all. Please. It hurts me to see you like this. Imagine what Emma would say if she saw you now. You''ll only continue to fail if you dwell on your mistakes like this. You''re still a soldier ¡ªa knight of Xenaria. A knight''s purpose is to fight until the bitter end."

    "Tell that to Sir Draumen. Continue to fail, was it? So you too admit that I failed," Azurus said, burying his face in his hands again.

    "That isn''t what I meant and you know it!" she protested. "Look, I know how you''re feeling right now¡ª"

    "You don¡¯t!" he cried, cutting her off. "You haven''t failed like I have. You''ve never killed a man from up close whom you knew was innocent and being manipulated. You don''t know what it''s like staring at the fearful expressions of farmers as you cut them down. You only sit from afar and shoot them from a position of safety!

    "You can''t possibly know how I feel! You''ve never been separated from someone you love for months on end! Nor are you a bloody orphan like me, Elizia Serene. Lady Roxanne treated me, a nobody, as if I was her own. You don''t know what it''s like to lose someone close to you!" Azurus realized he was standing now with his fists closed and mere inches away from Elizia. There were many others watching them now. Some soldiers had narrowed eyes and hands on their weapons. Azurus swallowed and took a step back, realizing he seemed threatening.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    "I do know what it''s like," she whispered, the glimmer of a teardrop running down her shrouded face like a shooting star.

    Azurus felt a pit in his stomach. He wanted to hide under a rock. Screaming out his sorrow at El of all people was not what he should have done. Lady Sar''tara lay unconscious and nearing death with every passing day and not a measure existed to prevent that. Azurus could only imagine the despair Elizia might be feeling. And the duchess had never made Azurus feel like an outsider either. He felt at home at Arcaeus too, he realized. "El, I¡­"

    "It''s alright," she said, still whispering, lips curled opposite a smile and two streams running down her supple cheeks. "You''re right. I don''t know what fighting in a vanguard is like. I''m not an orphan either."

    "El, I''m sorry," Azurus croaked, taking hold of her hands. They were cold now. He hated that. He wanted back the warmth that was comforting him not a moment ago.

    "You were framed for something you didn''t do," she continued. "And now, Sir Draumen too¡­ You''re right. I don''t know how you feel. But please don''t push me away because of it. You promised we''d always be friends."

    "And I mean to keep that promise," he said, hugging her, wondering if his cold self was any bit reassuring for her. His own words seemed void of any weight. The thought made his head hurt. "I''ll keep that promise," Azurus repeated, this time trying to convince himself to believe those words.

    ***

    Elizia stared at the wooden grain of her table as the darkness of her tent faded with dawn''s arrival. It was cold. Tent walls and her cloak did little to prevent that. And then there was the aching hole in her chest. Azurus'' words cut deep. She didn''t blame him. It''d be wrong to. He''d suffered more than any one man should.

    But that desperate hope that Elizia had been clinging on to felt smaller by the day. As if the string she held on to had been lit aflame and was slowly burning, an inevitability looming overhead once the entirety of it had become ashes. Elizia knew what it was like to lose someone she loved, but she suppressed those feelings with that ephemeral string of hope. Her mother was dying and she knew that nothing could stop it. Despair was a weight on her and her father''s shoulders and it was only growing heavier with the passage of time.

    She sucked in a deep breath of cold air. She leaned back in her seat and reached upwards. "I promised I''d make you proud mother. I won''t let your second home come to ruin. So please wake up when this is all over. Please wake up and tell me that you''re proud." She clenched her eyelids, flexing the stiffness out of her face, marred as it was with dried saltwater.

    Elizia pulled close a bowl of tasteless and runny jerky stew left for her and sipped a small spoonful. She''d had little appetite and it had gone cold. But she finished it nonetheless, grateful to have something filling the hole she felt inside. She looked over a regional map before pocketing it. Her cramps had died down during the night and it was high time the unit began moving again.

    The tent flap opened and Lieutenant Faren stepped inside. He twisted his lips and studied her for a moment.

    "What?" Elizia demanded.

    "I er, heard about what happened last night. I apologize for sleeping through it, my lady."

    Elizia waved the matter away. "We held a short funeral for Sir Draumen at Azurus'' request. As for what else you might have heard," she sighed, "it''s in the past and the past is better left alone." It was hard not to think about it, but ignoring it was the only way of deflecting the pain she felt. "The soldiers need their rest. I can''t expect everyone to be awake at the smallest of things."

    "But this was Sir Azurus and Sir Draumen¡­"

    "Lieutenant, I don''t want to talk about it," Elizia said in a rising tone. He gave a slight bow to apologize.

    "I assume you''re well enough for us to move now then?" he asked, nodding at her boiled leather shoulder pads and torso piece.

    Elizia put the armor over her head and held her arms out at the sides, letting him tie up the straps. "Any information regarding new enemy locations?" she asked once he''d finished, slinging over a longbow and checking her belt for a pair of daggers.

    "No, my lady. I had scouts sent farther since you were incapacitated, anticipating we''d be camped for a while, but nothing of note for more than twenty leagues. But we found tracks of a marching on foot army far to the west."

    "Then order the camp to prepare. We''ll continue west as was planned and patrol around the Iron Mines and Torsdale before heading northward across Blackridge river." It was concerning that their route led them north at the height of winter, but this was the best way to cover ground and check up on all of Xenaria''s lands. With the enemy''s precise maneuvering, every corner of the nation needed to be checked for amassing forces. This war''s purpose seemed more about causing chaos than felling the crown. Which worried Elizia about another force to come if the nation was thrown into utter turmoil.

    This assuming it isn''t already in turmoil. Her father had a network of spies in near every major city that sent messages, but Elizia wasn''t privy to those out here on the field. Nor could she reliably contact them with haste being of utmost importance. Arcaeus Peak was vulnerable without their cavalry. There was a chance Tarmia would besiege it even throughout the winter. House Serene''s cavalry would be needed to cut off their supply lines and harass their camp. Without them, the garrison would be hard pressed to lift the siege themselves.

    Faren gave a salute and stepped towards the tent''s mouth. "With any luck, Lord Galadin will be eager to restore some of our lost food and firewood supply. Maybe even give us some coal which the Iron Mines have a fair supply of."

    Elizia snorted. "We''ll need a lot of luck to get a little of anything from someone like Lord Galadin."

 Chapter 80: Conspiracy (Book 2, Chapter 43)

    <u>Chapter 43 - Conspiracy</u>

    <hr>

    One Month Later

    <hr>

    Elizia paced before the gates of Torsdale, praying to the Flames that they spared supplies. Each second spent made it seem her prayers fell on deaf ears. Her unit had arrived sometime after dawn and it was already well into the afternoon given the sun''s position in a spotted sky.

    Guards atop the two story ramparts lounged in their fur lined winter cloaks, leaning against parapets and muttering amongst themselves while staring down at her. She glared in return, sparking smirks from them. Some had the gall to wave with fingers as if she were waiting to select one of them for a betrothal. Fingers Elizia was envious of, sheltered as they were with knitted wool gloves weaved with flexible leather. Her own hands were a pale mess, skin cracking at her knuckles, their sting the only feeling greater than the cold. She constantly flexed them, imagining swinging at those buffoons, imagining the sound of their crunching noses as her fist made contact with their faces. Which would bleed more? My cracked knuckles or their broken nose?

    High House Galadin''s deep green banners bearing a Great Oak at its center hung over the grey stone beside the gates. The Great Oak, a tree at the city''s center, had existed for a number of millenia. Its earliest records dated back to around the fourth century of the second calendar. Its beginnings were a mystery. Legends had been written of it. Why a city was built around it was a question also left unanswered. But House Galadin, a rather newly appointed High House with some five centuries of history, had adopted the Oak as their official mark.

    Elizia winced as snow kicked up from her furious steps and found its way into the small crevice between her high boots and shins. Her feet were already cold. "Ashes become of their stupid Oak," she cursed, carefully pushing aside snow from the path. To not even properly maintain the roads leading up to the city¡­ As if it wasn''t troubling enough to have had to drive horses through snowy fields.

    Poor Valor. The horse seemed more drained by the day. It was hard giving him meals as well with snow covering grass. Elizia inhaled and frowned at the guards on the walls, just about ready to give a piece of her mind. A grocery list of insults aimed at Lord Galadin came to mind, but she kept that boiling water stuck inside her chest, heart pounding. Jasim was a shrewd man who knew to take advantages when they came. A wrong step and his guards could claim she insulted his honor. That would lead to a whole host of its own problems.

    A horse snorted behind Elizia. Azurus was trudging through the snow, fully armored, while Eleanoire pulled him along. He was holding her reins and she was pulling him along. The black mare nudged Elizia with its snout, clouds coming out of its flaring nostrils. Azurus shrugged. "She saw you feeding Valor an apple earlier this morning. She''s a lot smarter than I realize sometimes."

    Elizia crossed her arms. "The horse led you up the path?" The apple in question had been purchased for a whole copper half from a farmer two days past. That amount was worth a small sack of apples. But she''d paid it regardless, craving a delicacy after endless days of broth and jerky and gruel. She''d had half before sharing the other half with Valor.

    "I meant to come alone," Azurus said. "But she followed me. You''ve been pacing here for a good hour, El. It''s clear they won''t give us anything."

    Elizia looked up at the sky again. The sun had shifted a bit more to the west. Her knee joints were starting to throb. Walking a long while seemed well at first after a whole month of riding, but as the cold sunk in, she realized that it was her irritation keeping her going.

    "You haven''t tried calling out after that first attempt?"

    Elizia shook her head. A messenger had been sent early in the morning. The return reply was ''Lord Galadin will meet with you when he is awake.'' It''s Flaming noon already. "I asked them why it was taking so long. They said they spotted Jasim coming down the street. That had to be an hour ago. Probably lied to me."

    Azurus grunted. He turned his ice blue eyes to the guards. "Is this how High House Galadin would treat Xenaria''s Second Princess?" he roared. "You would leave her stranded here in the cold and lie to her?"

    Elizia stared at Azurus'' frowning face. He had veins bulging in his muscled neck that made its way up to his sharp jawline. Something about him being angry on her behalf was¡­ appealing? She was glad to have him defend her. Had she tried it herself, only curses would have escaped her lips.

    "No lie, Sir Queen''s Guard," came the reply from above. It was slight, but there was an accent to his words typical among western Xenarians. "Lord Galadin was approaching, but took a detour, you see? Sides, if the lady was looking to be treated, she could''ve just asked. Lads at the guardhouse would be more than willing to treat her."

    Elizia ground her teeth. He''d said it without any change in tone from his voice, but she could guess just what kind of treatment he was implying. A number of rumors regarding Elizia and her mother supposedly found their origins at western Xenaria. Rumors about why it is two women spent so much time among soldiers. Rumors that went as far as questioning who Elizia''s real father was.

    Azurus drew his sword and pointed it at the guard, eyes wide and knuckles white. "You would insult the lady''s honour? Do you understand the consequence of such an action?"

    "No insult," came the reply. "I said nothing wrong, did I?" he looked at his peers who shook their heads. Their spears were resting against the parapets rather than being in their hands. Discipline was low here. Odd that the last sighting of rebels were reported as moving away from Torsdale and instead marching northward. The walls were hardly manned in such a trying time. A few ladders and Elizia was certain she could have the city captured within hours with just her legion alone had she the mind. "You mentioned treatment," the guard continued, "and so did I. You know, hot meal, warm fire, warmer bed. Hospitality. I meant nothing more."

    They''re still at it. Elizia''s hand moved to her back. Her fingers found emptiness. Thank heavens that they did. Had she her bow and quiver, the guardsman would be seeing out of one eye, assuming he''d survive with an arrow in his head.

    The man suddenly cursed as a subordinate whispered something in his ear. "The Flames does that cripple want?" Elizia heard him say. And then there was a call to open the gates. Rusted hinges creaked as the doors were pulled back from inside. Not heavy doors requiring rotating gears to move like those at Arcaeus, but wooden gates about two inches thick.

    How many hits from a ram would it take to break such a door? Four? Or maybe even two with our strongest infantry?

    There was a lone guardsman waiting behind the opening gates, cursing and kicking at the snow before it. His spear rested on his shoulder and his grip was loose. He bowed and motioned for Elizia to enter, muttering formalities which she couldn''t hear. She glanced at Azurus, nibbling on her lower lip. Iron entered her mouth as she bit a cracked part a little too hard. Her breaths were shallow. She had no desire to enter alone. Not with Torsdale''s guards giving her leery stares. It was like being in the thick of an enemy. A feeling Elizia, an archer, had never experienced. She felt small all of a sudden.

    "Lieutenant Faren will be upset if you go without your guards," Azurus said. The unit was camped not a few hundred paces away.

    Elizia narrowed her eyes. "You didn''t come here on your own. Faren sent you here. After I denied being tailed by guards."

    Azurus turned his head away, admitting to the accusation with silence. "You shouldn''t do that," he said after a while, still not meeting her eyes. "You shouldn''t get upset at him for having a tight watch around you."

    "It''s suffocating," she countered.

    "It''s safety, El. Or would you tell me that life without your mother is not suffocating? That life confined to a bed while wounded from an assassin is not suffocating?"

    "That¡­" She looked down at her feet. Azurus certainly didn''t take many words when making her see the truth. Nor did he spare her their sharp edge. Arguing further would be of no use. She wanted him behind her anyhow.

    Elizia stepped into Torsdale while the young knight whispered a few words to his horse, sending it off towards the encampment before following alongside Elizia, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. She still had her own daggers at her waist should matters turn sour.

    The city guard led them up a set of stairs to the top of the ramparts. At least they kept the steps clear of snow. So they weren''t stupid enough to not recognize obvious safety hazards. At the top, a man in a wheelchair awaited them. The other guards were glaring at him, making it obvious that someone from among them had carried the man while another had brought up the dark wood chair.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    "Your highness," the man greeted, placing a hand to his chest and lowering his head.

    "Lord Luka," Elizia said, returning the gesture. She''d never seen him before, but who he was was obvious. Luka Galadin, eldest born to Jasim and a cripple shunned by his own family. "My lady will suffice. I don''t quite think honorifics befitting royalty suit me."

    "As my lady wishes. And please, just Luka works for me. I am no lord as I''ve nothing to inherit." The guards snickered at his mentioning that. She flashed a glare their way but they weren''t paying attention to her. They were instead sizing up Azurus who was a full inch taller than the tallest among them. Elizia was just a few hairs shorter than the black armored knight, yet no one took her measure.

    She turned her attention back to Luka. He wore a green woolen shawl over his shoulders which the ends of his mop-like hair touched. A few spots of dried blood marked his chin. Those seemed somewhat recent. A shaving accident, likely. A thin white fur pelt rested in his lap for warmth. The hairs on it were small. Coney fur stitched together. "Did you need something from me, Lo¡ª er, Luka?" Elizia asked.

    He offered an innocent smile. One like a setting sun, withering and without glory. "Would you mind, my lady?" he said, gesturing to the handles of his chair.

    The guards murmured something about how such a menial task would be beneath her. Elizia ignored their flimsy attempts at trying to protect her honor now. She took hold of the chair and pushed Luka along the ramparts to a spot void of any others. Azurus'' heavy steps trailed her from a few feet back. "This is what you wanted, right? For me to push you?"

    "Mm. Alas, if the walls were a few storeys higher to push me from."

    Elizia paused. "What?"

    "Yes. I did wish for you to push me, Lady Elizia. After all, kindness is an act far beneath the guards of High House Galadin."

    Elizia blushed in shame. She wasn''t doing this out of kindness. She was doing it out of urgency, hoping Luka could provide something for her soldiers or give any amount of relevant information.

    "Would you like to choose how you die, my lady?"

    She paused again. She heard Azurus half drawing his sword at such a strange remark. "I''m afraid a soldier doesn''t have the luxury of choosing their death bed," Elizia answered.

    "The luxury of choosing their death bed," Luka echoed, running old seeming hands along the fur pelt on his lap. The skin on it bore more wrinkles than a man his age should have. Hands that likely saw little use and were ruining without ample exercise. "I suppose there are luxuries we all cannot afford. Strange. My younger self envied soldiers. I didn''t consider your point of view."

    "Why am I here, Lord Luka?" Elizia asked again.

    The withered man sighed. "I suppose seeking a conversation partner was too much to ask," he said, looking up at the sky. "I should know better than to let my grief drag others. You''ve an urgent matter to attend to and I''m keeping you here. Irritating, right?"

    "Yes."

    Luka chuckled. "Not a second''s hesitation. Good. I prefer honesty. House Galadin lacks that these days. Strange as it is, my father is somewhat merciful. If a downpour could be considered mercy, father has a single raindrop''s worth inside of him. That''s why I haven¡¯t been completely abandoned. That''s why I still have some degree of authority."

    "And?" Elizia asked, pushing Luka along again. Standing and doing nothing was only furthering her irritation.

    "And it''s just that. Some authority is all I have. I don''t have enough to grant you the supplies you seek. If you must know, father had no intentions of meeting you until evening. Something about inviting you to dinner and meeting my younger brother, Edvard."

    They reached the corner of the ramparts and Elizia steered the wheelchair away from another group of guards drinking while leaning with backs against the stone, not even watching the fields beyond. Thick fur lined the top of their cloaks and an oak was painted on the leather across their broad chests. They raised their cups to Luka to mock him while wiggling their legs to show those worked.

    Luka offered nothing more than that dying smile.

    Seemingly bored that they got no reaction, the guards turned their attention to Elizia, regarding her curves for a moment ¡ªa moment that didn''t seem to end for them¡ª like desperate and penniless dogs scrounging for coins before a brothel. She ignored their slurring and vulgar courting words and they reached out to grab her. Sudden silence made her smirk. She took pleasure in imagining their fearful faces as Azurus stared them down while she continued to push Luka along.

    "He''s inviting me to a dinner while the nation is amidst a civil war. I came for supplies. Not parties."

    "Oh you''ll have your supplies," Luka said. "Plenty of them. This assuming you accept the betrothal. And then father will likely skip out on your dowry while claiming it was paid in the form of supplies. Such is his mind."

    Elizia heard a sharp snap as her hands tightened around the wheelchair''s handles. The wood was old. So the House couldn''t even allow their eldest a decent chair. "He can''t even spare us any coal to help run our fires?" she said through her teeth. A large plume rose from far to her left. She squinted, making sure it wasn''t clouds. Her heart hammered as horror struck her. Were there rebels behind from where her unit had come, burning farmlands? Impossible. The scouts wouldn''t have missed it.

    "Coal," Luka said with a touch of amusement. He stared at the same rising smoke that was slowly making its way towards Torsdale with a westward wind. "Don''t be alarmed, my lady. That is nothing more than a massive Corpsefire."

    "A what?"

    "These city folk are a superstitious bunch you see, some still claiming to the old ways of the Flame Bearers rather than accepting Trillia as the true Goddess and creator of Illusterra."

    Elizia twitched, feeling talked down to. So Luka was a Trillian convert, and one with firm enough faith to denounce others it seemed.

    "The darkspawn often found roaming the dark of the Iron Mines, imps and ratmen and the like, their bodies are burned, you see. Burning ensures they stay dead or so the myths go. They seem just as dead when speared through their heads if you ask me. No. Father will not spare you coal. Not even after accepting the Trillian faith himself. But he will spare it for these superstitious bunch, letting them create corpsefires."

    Darkspawn. The Astral Union went around hunting people they claimed were darkspawn. They''d burned down the Papillion Forest and killed all of Elizia''s aunts in the process. That was what her mother had said. All of them, apparently, were darkspawn. There were real monsters roaming unwatched crevices within Illusterra, monsters that Elizia had only seen illustrations of in books, but those generally went ignored by the Union.

    "If I will not be spared any supplies, then why am I here?" Elizia asked.

    "Wasting time?" Luka shrugged. Elizia waited for more but he stayed silent. Despite the need for haste, she felt it wrong to ask if she could leave. Luka was in evident need of friends. "You don''t have to ask me to leave," he finally said, as if guessing her mind. "I wouldn''t curse you at all if you just left silently without my knowledge. You''re good at that, did you notice? Silence I mean. Your footsteps aren''t audible."

    Elizia frowned. She had a habit of being stealthy, sneaking around Arcaeus Peak often during nights as a child. And her unit was trained to be fast and conduct ambushes if need be. But Luka couldn¡¯t possibly be guessing that. Her steps had to be drowned by the sound of his wheels grinding against the stone and Azurus'' steps behind her.

    "Strange how one notices small details when not occupied with other things such as walking," Luka said. "Really, I wouldn''t have been upset if you''d left. Everyone does eventually, using some excuse or another. It''s why I have multiple servants to take responsibility of me. They all find some way to leave me to another person. But you of all people would have had a valid excuse."

    Elizia felt another wave of shame overcome her. Her impatience was drowning her kindness. "May I be pardoned, Lord Luka?" she asked.

    "Again, with the ''lord''," he sighed. "You may, my lady." She began pushing him back towards the gates. His head hung as he stared in deep thought at the many lines on the back of his hand. "I really wouldn''t have minded," he said again, whispering now. "Dying abandoned and alone in the cold wouldn''t have been a bad way to go."

    Elizia felt her mouth dry. "You take your jests too far, Lord Luka." She cringed as she said it. How else did a person respond to such a situation? To her relief, Luka actually chuckled.

    "You know, the rebel forces came within a few miles of the city. A sizeable number of them and not all of them were peasants from what I heard. Some several thousand. But they turned northward."

    "I know of that," she replied.

    "No. You don''t. Does it make sense to you that a poorly guarded city like ours is ignored by our enemies in this civil war? Gaining Torsdale could near be a chokehold for Queen Dahlia."

    Elizia''s breath caught. "You mean the Iron Mines?"

    "Yes. We supply most of the nation with the means for their arms and wares. Not to mention father sent out a legion of about a thousand from here a fortnight ago to aid with quelling the rebellion. Another convenient excuse to not give you supplies you see, as he heard your numbers were coming this way a few days before that. And several days earlier, the rebel group was spotted and they turned north as well."

    "What are you trying to say?" Elizia asked.

    "Don''t trust Jasim Galadin," Luka said. "Torsdale still has some five thousand footmen inside. Poorly trained and hardly ever on duty, as you can see by the empty walls, but well equipped. We have a few thousand more at the Iron Mines, but those are mostly injured men from lower class families that are forced to guard and mine for small pay. What I mean is watch your back. It wouldn''t do well to find yourself caught between two forces while you''re attempting to cross Blackridge River now of all seasons."

    Would Lord Galadin really dare to strike our flank? There''s little benefit and if he fails to kill us to a man, there will be hell to pay. It didn''t make sense. Jasim was known to be greedy, but meticulous also. He wouldn''t take such risks. Something certainly seemed amiss with the timings, but Elizia couldn''t place what it was. "To warn me like this¡­ you don''t have any loyalty to your father then?"

    Luka laughed. Laughed hard and loud ¡ªenough so for the guards at the gate to turn their heads as she pushed him towards them. Snow on the walls shone like sugar dusted over a grey cake, shining beneath the afternoon sun. "To actually ask me that question after our conversation. You must love your own father very much, my lady."

    "Yes," she admitted, blushing.

    "You were raised without negligence then. I''m glad. At least Xenaria seems to have a future. Farewell, Lady Elizia."

    "Farewell," she said, knowing he likely wouldn''t. She skipped down the steps and hurried outside past the gate to her unit, Azurus following. She didn''t want to get caught and invited by Lord Galadin''s men. If he managed to invite her to dinner and she refused, he could claim that an insult and raise iron prices again as he seemed to do every few years. "Any idea what might be going on?" she asked Azurus after a while. "About Luka''s warnings I mean."

    "You''ve likely thought of anything that I have," he said. "I can''t guess at what manner of conspiracy is being concocted. We have to be careful in our chase of the rebel group however. Especially careful when crossing the river."

    "Agreed," Elizia said, clutching the two ends of her cloak before her chest, fingers and toes still cold.

 Chapter 81: Fickle Hope (Book 2, Chapter 44)

    <u>Chapter 44 - Fickle Hope</u>

    Clack, clack, clack.

    Footsteps from the far end of the dungeon.

    "I''ll kill you! I''ll Flaming kill you!" someone shouted.

    Scraping and rustling sounds followed by more clacking.

    Eildred raised his neck, dazed, straining his eyes to see what lay a few feet before him. It was like looking through a window that hadn''t been cleaned in decades. His head throbbed, lower lip and left cheek swollen, taste of iron in his mouth, blood and sweat staining his shirt. His cell reeked of his own odor. Something he''d come to not mind in the time he spent in the dungeons below the palace. He was locked in the cell opposite of the one where Idris Khan had been held.

    A flickering orange glow spread along the old stone floor. Elongated shadows accompanied. Three pointed heads stretched slowly as the light reached to the opposite end of the path. Three people, one of them carrying a torch. They weren''t here to beat Eildred. Only two came when he was to be beaten. There was another prisoner being brought.

    "Aargh!"

    One of the shadows disappeared, the person likely falling to their knees. Rustling and grunts echoed. The two remaining shadows shook. There was a loud thud followed by a groan. One pointed shadow remaining.

    Eildred felt his heart drum. He held his breath, overcome with a strange feeling.

    Hope.

    Who won the scramble? The prisoner or the jailers? Eildred opened his mouth to call out, stinging pain on his lips as they cracked. A second shadow grew.

    Hope died.

    If there were two shadow heads, then it was the guards that were still standing. The shadows grew larger. The prisoner was being dragged along the floor. The two guards ¡ªformer Queen''s Guard¡ª stopped before Eildred''s cell. One had blood running down his nose. They unlocked the cell opposite his, pulling the creaking door open, and threw a man in a red coat inside. They sealed the gate, glanced Eildred''s way, then stalked off.

    Clack, clack, clack.

    Natan and Lider. Dutiful guards, when they had been guards. Now, nothing more than traitors with their queen''s blood on their hands. They weren¡¯t the ones Odain sent to beat Eildred every so often. None of the Lotus Knights were. The Vicegerent was thorough. Former acquaintances could be leveraged and guilt tripped into sympathizing, even if they''d betrayed. Men Eildred didn''t recognize were the ones sent down to beat him. Men that Odain had full loyalty of.

    "Who''d they bring now?" asked Finral. The grand chamberlain was locked in the cell to the left. A thick stone wall separated him from Eildred. Finral being alive made sense. He had knowledge of governance and finances and records of reports as well as experience in handling paperwork. Doubtful that he''d be reinstated, but he was a source of information.

    But why am I being kept alive? Flames, it hurts. Why not just kill me and be done with? I want to see her¡­

    But no. Torment awaited him in death also. An ache settled in his chest and made his eyes water. Eildred, defeated, felt like curling up, but even that wasn''t allowed of him. His arms were chained and pinned to the wall. He screamed, flexing his muscles and struggling against the binds around his wrists. Chains rattled, but the iron cuffs nailed to the walls didn''t budge.

    The mighty Thundersword whimpered.

    "Eildred," Finral said calmly, "You''ll scrape and cut your wrists if you keep doing that."

    Teardrops joined the dirty mess on Eildred''s shirt. Finral wasn''t chained like he was. He didn''t know how suffocating it was to be in this position. Good riddance if I slit my wrists and just bleed out. But did he really want that? Dahlia was probably happy somewhere with Madrivall now. He had no place in death and he was nothing but a failure in life.

    I still have a duty. Princess Emeria still lives.

    Hollow thoughts of a distant man. A man that Eildred was no longer. He was cursed. He really had outlived Dahlia as he said. But he wasn''t going to be serving a third generation of House Lakris. Odain had full control of the nation. Who was left to oppose him and that fairy woman at his side who blindly conducted massacres without question with just short sentences from him?

    "I loved her too, Eildred," Finral said. "I watched her grow since she was but a babe. Watched both Dahlia and Emeria in fact. We have to endure. There''s always relief at the end of hardships."

    "In stories maybe," Eildred responded, his voice haggard from all the phlegm and blood he''d swallowed. "Imagination is a weapon, isn''t it Finral? Can you imagine a way out of this predicament?"

    "I am but an old man. Wielding weapons is your task."

    A crass joke, but it alleviated some of the pain from the wound inside. A wound that was fresh every morning, whenever morning was. Eildred had begun fearing sleep. Nightmares accompanied. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her die, heard her cry and accuse him of being late.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Conversations with Finral were all that Eildred had to keep from going mad. His muscles had weakened due to their lack of use and his figure had shrunk from a lack of food. Now, after a month in the dungeon, his mental strength was waning as well. He wondered where Azurus and Elizia were. Could he dare to place his hopes on them? Or perhaps on Lord Serene. If anyone could find a way, it''d be the Silver Eagle. Right?

    Not likely. Kalin had his hands full with the Empire.

    Another odd hope occurred to Eildred then. "I met a prince a few months back," he found himself saying. He hadn''t shared this thought before. He was supposed to inform Dahlia of the matter. Of the Flame Bearer currently living as a pirate. The boy named Aaron.

    The new prisoner groaned as he sat up.

    "A prince eh?" Finral said. "From which natio¡ª"

    "Flames and Ashes!" the new prisoner roared, standing up and gripping the bars of his cell as he stared Eildred in the eyes. "Flames and Trillia''s bloody period Ashes! Odain''s won, hasn''t he? To think I was counting on you when they brought me to the capital. The great Thundersword now but a prisoner. Guess we''re all Flaming stuck here, then. What of Dahlia, eh Eildred? Let me guess. Dead? Flames!" The man kicked at the lock on his cell. The mechanisms inside rattled but otherwise seemed unharmed. He continued to kick, putting all his back into it. His body shook with each strike, long and sweat drenched black hair sticking to the front of his face. The unkempt beard on his chin made his once handsome face look as if belonging to a vagabond. A vagabond that had found a once nice red coat that now had holes and dirt stains all around it. "Flames! You let Dahlia die! You useless dog! Some Flaming Queen''s Guard. Some Flaming hero. Absolute Flaming fail¡ª"

    "Shut your mouth, Agrienne Caranel!" Eildred bellowed, again struggling against his binds. "I''ll¡ª"

    "You''ll what?" Agrienne interrupted. "Kill me?" He spat in disgrace. "That''s Lord Caranel. Remember it, failed guard."

    Such petty insults shouldn''t have angered Eildred, but they did. He felt heat surround him. A sea of vulgar words entered his train of thought. A petty jealousy pricked at his skin as he recalled Dahlia''s expression when Agrienne had offered to take her hand in marriage. She''d actually considered it then and all because he was handsome. Eildred felt his mouth dry. He imagined himself strangling Agrienne. He was a failure, he knew that. But to hear it from a man who had ill intents towards his beloved was a heinous stab at his pride. "Piss on your mouth and your ''lord'' title, bastard." Eildred said, baring his teeth, spittle flying out.

    "Gentlemen, we''re all hapless prisoners here," Finral said, trying to mediate.

    Agrienne clicked his tongue and sat down, back to the bars. "What do they feed us down here?" he asked after a long while.

    "Piss and maggot soup," Eildred said, still hot with rage.

    "Gruel," Finral answered at the same time.

    A long moment passed. Eildred''s anger died down and the pain in his stiff muscles settled back in, his arms hurting most of all from being hung and pinned to the wall for so long. The cuffs were only ever unlocked when food was provided. Even then, only one arm was released and multiple armed men stood watch outside the cell.

    The grand chamberlain let out an audible yawn. "A prince, you were saying, Eildred."

    "What''s it matter?" he replied. "It''s a pointless hope. He''ll probably be killed before he manages anything."

    "Now now, we''ve little left but our imaginations and optimism," Finral said. He followed it with a long sigh, as if not believing his own words.

    "And despair," Agrienne muttered.

    A stretched and dark silence followed after that. Eildred couldn''t help but agree. The grand chamberlain''s silence signaled agreement as well.

    "So, why do you place your hopes on some foreign prince?" Finral finally asked.

    Agrienne suddenly banged his fist against the iron bars. There wasn''t much of a sound and his arm went rigid, suggesting that it had hurt him quite a bit. He breathed through his teeth by the sounds. "Here we are, the three of us locked together with nothing to do but indulge in pitiful imaginations of some fairytale escape. Except we aren''t quite the stereotypical damsels in distress.

    "Flames but I''ll probably go mad if I don''t do the same. Do explain, oh failed Queen''s Guard captain, for I too have nothing better to do than dream like a princess locked in a tower. Or would a sickly whore in a backwater brothel be the more proper analogy here? So what is this hope that you see yourself imagining, Sir Aegis?"

    "Shut up," Eildred said.

    Agrienne snorted. "Well, I''ll add to our despair then. Duke Serene won''t save us. Arcaeus Peak is under siege from what I overheard while being brought here. Lord Galadin can probably be branded a traitor. Or Odain seems to imply that he will be easily bought. Lord Coraine I hear is dead. Ah, I hear Queen Dahlia is dead too and the Captain of the Queen''s Guard has been imprisoned in the palace dungeons."

    The rage boiled inside Eildred again, but this time he kept his mouth shut, calming himself with deep breaths. Dozens of deep breaths. "Not foreign," he mumbled after a while.

    "Mm? You''re actually sharing?" Agrienne said, turning his head. For all his vitriol, he couldn''t hide the curiosity in his eyes. Even a man like him needed a string of hope to cling on to.

    "You say something, Eildred?" Finral asked. "My old ears don''t catch things as well as they used to."

    "I said not foreign," Eildred said louder.

    "Not foreign what?"

    "You asked why I placed my hopes on a foreign prince. He isn''t foreign. Not exactly." Agrienne turned completely at that, fingers curling around the bars. He seemed deeply interested all of a sudden. "He''s Xenarian," Eildred continued. "Our¡­ king to be exact. A Flame Bearer of High House Zz''tai."

    The grand chamberlain stayed silent while Agrienne stared wide eyed. "How old was he?"

    Eildred narrowed his eyes. "Around my niece''s age. Maybe a year or two difference. Why does it matter to¡­" The boy had short black hair. A minor connection but it was more than enough. Agrienne was known to have lured dozens of women to his bed, and had spent the last few years searching for a lost lover. "Flames, Agrienne. The boy is yours?"

    He said nothing. He crawled to the end of his cell and tucked in his knees, burying his head within it. Eildred frowned. The proud Agrienne crawled and was now acting like a reprimanded child? Was he¡­ feeling emotional attachments? That would suggest he loved this boy''s mother very much. Eildred found it hard to believe Agrienne was capable of that.

    Flame Bearers. High House Zz''tai, a ruined line and Xenaria''s former royalty. They''d ruled over a once great Xenarian Empire. But all that remained of them was a tainted legacy. Accused of having ties to the Tortured Throne and attempting to resurrect its ruler, they were deposed and destroyed a few centuries ago. Remnants of their line were still hunted to this day.

    Aaron Zz''tai. He had Artifacts and strange allies, among which was a Shadow Walker. Another race of people branded Darkspawn and hunted.

    Eildred rested the back of his head against the stone wall. He breathed out through his open mouth. Dare I place my hopes on the devils of our history?

 Chapter 82: Treachery (Book 2, Chapter 45)

    <u>Chapter 45 - Treachery</u>

    A sheet of ice hid the waters of Blackridge River. Cracks marked the surface. Elizia rubbed her hands and blew between them as Faren led her company across a stone bridge wide enough for five horses to stand abreast. She led the rearguard battalion next, using her sharp sight to keep a lingering watch on the horizon behind her, wary of a treacherous attack from Torsdale. She wasn''t expecting it, but caution never killed anyone.

    Smoke from the Corpsefire still climbed from far in the distance, thin now and seeming innocent as if coming from a baker''s chimney. That fire had been burning for hours. The sun was now fully in the west and slowly sinking, and yet, not even a brick of coal had been spared.

    Should have just accepted the betrothal and found an excuse to break it later.

    Elizia shook her head. Those thoughts were of a weak will readily influenced by mere cold. A commander needed to keep a straight mind at all times. Just like father. He wouldn''t ever breakdown in the midst of war no matter the situation. Elizia was only having weak thoughts because her ears felt numb even hidden beneath her hood, and that was making her head ache. Not to mention how pale and ghastly her skin was getting.

    Maybe it wouldn''t have been so bad. Luka Galadin was kind enough. Perhaps his younger brother would be the same? Marriage was still a responsibility to carry on the mainline of House Serene. Marrying into a powerful family like the Galadins would solidify the ties between them and her own House. A proper political marriage that would give Elizia some degree of control over the Iron Mines and allow Arcaeus to strengthen their position along the borders with cheaper supplies.

    It would require Elizia to bear two children though, one to be raised as an heir to House Serene and the other for House Galadin. If she married nobility from a minor house, the man would be the one to change their family name to Serene. That would have also been the case for House Galadin, since it was their second son in question, but their eldest was not likely to produce any heirs. That made Edvard, Luka''s younger brother, in line to inherit the title of ''lord''.

    "Emeria''s birthday must be near," Azurus said, riding beside her. He rode more often with her than he did with one of three battalions of the unit. Likely something Faren had suggested. Azurus wouldn''t be gaining much field experience as a commander like this, but Elizia hadn''t suggested otherwise. She''d really begun to enjoy his company.

    "Did you get her anything?" she asked, regretting having done so almost immediately. Of course he wouldn''t have. When could he possibly have had the time? She turned to him to apologize but saw the ends of his mouth curl up. It was¡­ odd? He hadn''t smiled much of late and seeing that made her feel happy too.

    Someone to love¡­ And here she was thinking of a political marriage. But maybe she could fall in love after the marriage. Maybe Edvard Galadin was honorable and ''handsome'', Elizia almost blurted aloud as Azurus turned to her, pale blue eyes locked with hers. She realized she''d been staring. Was she projecting his image on that of another? She turned her focus back forward as Valor''s hooves clopped on the stone of the bridge. She felt a rising heat in her cheeks.

    "I did actually," Azurus said. "A circlet I purchased from a peddler I met while riding for the capital."

    An almost immediate pang of pain flashed through her chest and disappeared just as quick. She huffed, letting out a cloud that fogged her eyes before blinking it away. Elizia tugged at the top of her hood and pretended to act cold while hiding her blushing face. She wasn''t jealous. It was just the ache at the sides of her head that made her think strange. Besides, it was wholly wrong to covet something that belonged to her friend. She risked a glance at Azurus. He was tapping the side of his horse''s pack. Probably where he kept the circlet. Probably imagining how Emeria looked wearing it, a lovesick grin still on his face.

    Elizia sighed, letting out another vapor plume. She''d begun desiring something akin to a relationship more and more of late. And a subconscious part of her was seeking that from the young knight, seeing as how he was the only male friend she had around her age.

    Valor made it past the bridge. The rest of the rearguard crossed soon after. Elizia turned to check behind her. Still no sign of a backstab attempt. Evening neared and she wondered if it would be wise to call for an early camp. A fresh water source was available to her but the knowledge of enemies ahead and a potential threat from behind gave her pause. Being caught in a pincer with a frigid river between was the last thing she needed. She hadn''t bothered driving the unit hard this time around either, wanting both horses and soldiers in good fighting condition should the need arise when a land advantage was not on their side.

    A rider galloped backwards towards her. "Lady Elizia!" the man cried. She recognized the middle aged man as Benj, one of the first soldiers of Sar''tara''s unit ¡ªoriginally a squad of five hundred. "Enemy camp spotted ahead!" Benj said, rearing his horse beside the line of three soldiers riding abreast to her left. "They''re in position to fight and all armed, but on foot. Lieutenant Faren says there''s no need for us to engage now and that we''d be better seeking safer ground with our mounts. He wants your orders."

    "How many?" Elizia asked.

    "Similar in number to us but, er¡­ armed as I said. Well-armed. Not something our light cavalry can recklessly charge. A few hundred peasants but the rest seem proper soldiers with lean builds from what I was able to glean with my spyglass.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Elizia frowned, thinking for a second. Her nails dug into the leather of Valor''s reins as she became increasingly frustrated. Luka reported a contingent of about a thousand from Torsdale that had ridden out. These were mere footmen. But from where would such a large amount of experienced soldiers come from? Legions of the Astral Union that had snuck in perhaps? "Banners?" she asked.

    "The same," said Benj. "Burning Lotus."

    Azurus tensed at that. He always seemed on edge when seeing the lotus of House Lakris burning. It was the official flag of the rebellion it seemed. The deposing of House Lakris as House Zz''tai was deposed before them. Wouldn''t that give me a claim to the throne if this rebellion succeeds? She shuddered at the thought. She wasn''t ready for such a responsibility. She didn''t think she''d ever be ready for it. Besides, Dahlia and Emeria would need to either be killed or captured for that to happen. That would mean both Sir Aegis and Elizia''s father would fail in their tasks of protecting the royal family. Unthinkable.

    "We can try riding around them and put their backs to the river," Azurus said. "That makes sure they can''t advance further and burn farms and small villages. Or even recruit from them if that''s where the peasant portion of the army is coming from."

    Elizia twisted her mouth. She looked around, though not sure for what. The sky was turning orange. Engaging now with night so close was not something she wanted. And if the enemy unit was as armed as Benj suggested, then her unit''s harass and run tactics would be near useless. Arrows on heavy armor would be like buzzing flies with some hornets mixed in for the occasional shaft that found a weak spot. "We can''t much blame peasants for joining their cause," she said.

    "No. Not when a sizeable force arrives at your village. The threat alone is enough to convince them to join," Azurus said, pinching between his eyes. He was still plagued by the farmers he''d mercilessly slain. "This is the same force we''ve been tracking for a while, isn''t it, scoutsman Benj?"

    Benj nodded. "The same. I wouldn''t mistake them."

    "And were they as well armed as they are now when last you saw them?"

    "Er, no, Sir Azurus."

    Elizia breathed through her teeth as she squeezed the reins in her hands. "That whoreson! Jasim Galadin is selling arms to the rebels to profit off the civil war!" The soldiers around her muttered curses of their own. "Riding around would put their backs to the river, but that exposes our flank to the riders that had sent out from Torsdale. Assuming this is all for profit, five thousand of our horses and a few dozen wagons is worth a fortune."

    Especially when so many of the horses were of the expensive desert breed. Elizia rubbed Valor''s neck. She couldn''t imagine him under another master.

    "Should we return and seek refuge in the city?" Azurus asked. "I don''t think Lord Galadin would dare attack the Silver Eagle banners in plain sight of the citizens."

    "And then what?" she said, glaring at the knight. "That''d be playing into his hands. I would rather not be indebted to him." Yet, that seemed the safest option. She was the commander. She had to consider what was right for the lives of her men as well.

    But I promised father I''d succeed. I promised to make mother proud. Against a legion of heavy infantry and the possible threat of a thousand enemy riders. And dusk quick to approach. Think, El, think! What would father or Rask do if they were here?

    "We could¡­ take Torsdale," Azurus said softly. "Accuse Jasim of treason maybe."

    She frowned his way. Never did she expect such words from him of all people. Azurus who she saw as a depiction of justice. Was this still the same man that had sworn to protect the people of Xenaria? The same man that was breaking and crying because of the lives fate had forced him to take in the name of duty? "That was a dark joke, Azurus. Really dark." He turned his head away. "Benj, tell Lieutenant Faren he can continue. We will position ourselves around these enemies, but make sure there is a wide distance between us. I doubt they''ll attack us at night. And I want an ample network of scouts watching for riders from Torsdale that might be looking to stab us in the back!"

    Benj nodded and galloped off. Elizia left the rearguard to Azurus now that she didn''t think it necessary to keep glancing back. At least two miles were kept between her riders and the enemy camp. She saw them standing in ranks, cautious, their armaments glimmering like gemstones as a fiery sun''s light reflected off their surface. Not even the snow blanketing the dead grass of the fields shown with such majesty. It only irritated her further. She didn''t need a monocular to know those weapons and armor were new. She lashed out with Valor''s reins, and only slowed him once reaching Faren''s side at the front.

    "I want a good five miles between us and their camp, Faren." No harm in being prepared even if she wasn''t expecting a night raid.

    "If I may, my lady, I don''t think we have the means to destroy this rebel legion. At least not without significant casualties. I predict a loss of somewhere between a fifth to two fifths and a whole host of injured who we cannot carry during winter. That''s the best case scenario. Worst case we lose even more."

    "What would you have me do?" Elizia asked.

    "Well, no one sleeps in their armor. Except perhaps the Queen''s Guard. Though, I doubt even they would wear their iron shells when nights have been exceedingly cold."

    Elizia thought long and hard. Conducting a night raid had crossed her mind. But leaving their precious supplies alone during that time? If the supplies were destroyed then, her small army was doomed. A night raid would preserve her men''s lives from a drawn out melee. A loss of supplies would kill them in the long run, but that would buy time to search for food elsewhere.

    The immediate potential to preserve her forces versus the long drawn out preservation of them. The choice was obvious. And it wasn''t like an attack from Lord Galadin''s detachment was guaranteed. She could also take precautions to hide her wagons.

    "Yes," Elizia agreed. "A night raid. This very night too. Use our superior mobility to decimate their camp and force them to run to the river. It won''t be hard to tell friend from foe if all our allies are on horseback while all of them are on foot. And we can take their supplies as well."

    "I don''t recommend focusing on their supplies," Faren said. "We''ll want to cause fire and chaos."

    Elizia nodded, though disappointed. There was much spoils to be had if they succeeded. But she didn''t have the wagons to carry so much ironware. All nearby territory was under control of High House Galadin, so she couldn''t quite trust mounds of weapons and armor to any local villages or farmsteads. She shook her head, grateful for once to the cold air clashing against her skin as Valor galloped forward. Thoughts of spoils could wait. She needed to put her full focus on the inevitable battle mere hours away.

 Chapter 83: Just This Once (Book 2, Chapter 46)

    <u>Chapter 46 - Just This Once</u>

    Kazir sat cross legged beneath the shadow of his own tent. He was grateful for all the boons it provided; a shield from cold winds, a muffler for all the screams outside, and privacy of course. He grunted in irritation as another crash sounded. The sound of siege tower bridges crashing down on the garrison''s walls. Thus far, The Empire had lost over a fifth of their troops ¡ªhalf that dead and the other half too injured to fight. The injured ones were sent back home so as to not burden the rest of the army.

    The garrison stood resilient, not showing any signs of weakening yet. Field officers that survived each day reported minor hints of exhaustion from the Xenarian sides, but nothing more.

    Minor hints. Kalin was expecting to outlast Tarmia then, feeding his army in rations despite the massive stores of food he''d brought. His plan would backfire if the Empire could endure the harsh winter. Without worrying about the famed Serene cavalry, a proper supply line stretched from Empire lands all the way to the encampment. Kalin was relying too heavily on deserters and illness plaguing his enemies.

    Kazir, hands on his knees with palms facing up, took measured breaths. Three heartbeats per inhale and three per exhale. Calm and focused, he considered many possible scenarios. Perhaps the Duke thought the civil war would end soon and his horsemen would return to lift the siege. A troubling situation, should it occur. Perhaps the only way for the Empire to lose as well.

    "Master Kazir," said a muffled voice from outside. It was Iskra, a wickar in his inner circle.

    "Come in," he ordered. The tent flap was pushed aside, chill air coming in. Kazir tensed, flexing his muscles and gritting his teeth. Flames but he hated keeping up his image. Who''d decided it to be wise for the Wickar to walk around with their top half bare?

    Kazir heard Iskra get down on one knee. "More deserters, master. From the newer militia."

    "Mm. How many does that make it now?" The newly added militia had some months of training, but they lacked the discipline of long term soldiers. It was expected that they would be the first to leave.

    "Almost a thousand have gone. We have more men getting sick also. About a hundred in terrible condition and many times that number that are showing signs. The officers are isolating the sick ones from the rest, but there aren''t enough physics to treat everyone with the needed care."

    "Let the sick be. Those that are strong will recover. Those that aren''t needed will die. Make sure soldiers aren''t wandering outside of their respective camps. We don''t need the newer militia finding out that trained soldiers are eating and resting better than them."

    Iskra nodded. Probably. Kazir wasn''t sure this time.

    The trained portions of the army would be put to use soon. So far the wall defenders had been faced with inferior men not matching in equipment or discipline to themselves. Over a month had passed since the siege began. Even behind fortress walls, winter weather would sap away at Xenarian morale too. They had to be on edge. They''d never come under siege before and that stress had been stewing. Perhaps the stove beneath was getting dim and Kalin''s soldiers found some degree of confidence in themselves, facing inferior quality soldiers.

    But that was all a part of Kazir''s plans. Let them get complacent just as Kalin and Sar''tara had. For years, the Empire''s western front had to manage offenses with poorly trained troops. Xenarians were used to facing weak militia rather than hardened soldiers. They''d get their surprise soon enough, and Kazir would give it to them when their morale was sunk at the bottom of a dried up well.

    "Any word from Samlan or signs of his returning?" Kazir asked. Rustling sounds. Iskra had shaken his head.

    "Er, no master," the assassin then said hastily, as if forgetting that his master was blind.

    Kazir felt like sighing but kept it in. Small annoyances like these built up. The scars on his face ached. Anger boiled inside him. The desire to see squeezed at his patience. I''ll take everything from you, Kalin. Everything! "How are the mercenaries faring? Any deserters from them?"

    "No master, they''re lounging and partying as if they''re making the easiest coin of their lives," Iskra said.

    "They are." Mercenaries, ill-disciplined though they may be, were opportunists. They were no strangers to brutal fights, but they avoided them if they could. Their strength came from unnatural cohesion and camaraderie. Each band was relatively small, but they performed maneuvers with trained expertise due to having been through much hardships together.

    There were several well-known groups among the few dozen that were here. The Black Sun; tall dark skinned warriors with powerful muscles from the southern most regions of Tarmia. The Band of Mourners; comprised of former soldiers from all over, they had proper training but had taken up the path of mercenaries due to the added freedom. The Songblades; skilled warriors from the Far East. And The Iron Turtles who boasted having armor greater than Xenarian Queen''s Guard. All these groups had made a name for themselves fighting under Idris Khan as he ravaged the eastern fronts. All of them save for the Songblades who''d fought against him ¡ªand had earned his praise.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    It didn''t matter much. They were all loyal to their purses, not their nation of origin. "Iskra, get me a whore."

    There was a pause. Kazir imagined his aide to be frowning. "Any¡­ specifications?"

    Kazir flexed his fingers, thinking of strangling the man right there. "Was that a blind joke? Because it wasn''t very funny. But yes. I do have specifications. We are in the last month of this year. Ample time since Second Princess Elizia set out from the garrison. Enough time for her to have reached her destination with her small army, be killed, and then dragged back here."

    "Ah, you suspect Samlan has failed in his assassination then," Iskra said. "I see. About six feet, and lightly tanned skin then. And brown hair, correct?"

    "Yes. Lean but well-proportioned figure too. Don''t get me a string bean or a pig."

    "As the master wishes," Iskra said, probably bowing as there was a subtle breeze.

    The tent flap was thrown aside and another blast of winter stung Kazir''s skin. He clenched his teeth and returned to meditation, distant sounds of clamoring and clashing like that of primitive hollowed bone instruments clattering against thin stone.

    Iskra returned a long while after. A second, softer pair of footsteps entered the tent with him. Kazir crinkled his nose at the sharp scent of cheap perfume. "Miss Taissi is here to serve, master," Iskra announced.

    Feet wearing light shoes crunched down on grass and moved forward. "You are the supreme commander of the Empire''s army?" a soft voice asked. A singing voice, slightly high pitched. This woman could have chosen a different career path. Or then again, maybe not. Most in her profession got in young and with little other options when choosing how to sleep at night with a full belly and a roof atop. Taissi felt timid.

    "How old are you?" Kazir asked, expecting more confidence. Perhaps she was really young.

    "Twenty-seven," came a near stuttering reply.

    That old and not at all confident in her task? Or was she trying to gain his favor, assuming he was rich? Mercenaries could be a brutish bunch sometimes, but Kazir doubted they''d go to violent lengths when they were stuck in the encampment for months. A pair of tender fingers touched his face just below his scars. He swallowed, twitching at the ticklish feeling along his cheek. Her scent was making his head spin. When had she gotten so close?

    He swatted the hand aside, frowning. "Quit the maiden act. Answer my questions with more confidence."

    "Oh. You''re the talkative type," Taissi said, speaking with a slightly deeper voice, Tarmian accent clear. So she was putting up a well performed act, then. She moved in closer, grasping Kazir''s bare shoulders with her hands, sweet smelling silk brushing against his face. "Talk then. Though, I find men shut their mouths quickly when I get started."

    Kazir''s heart drummed. His interest levels were high. But he simply didn''t have the time. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, resisting Taissi''s attempt to force him on his back. He shoved her back instead and heard her fall on her rear. She let out an unwarranted yelp. Kazir flinched at the pain in his ears from the sudden loud sound. Surely falling on grass didn''t hurt that much?

    "You''re still here¡­" she muttered, likely looking towards Iskra.

    Funny. She had eyes and yet she didn¡¯t know he was still there.

    "You know, two at once is going to cost more. A lot more," Taissi mumbled, the timidity returning to her tone. Something about it felt genuine this time.

    "Where are you from?" Kazir asked.

    "I work in Erid."

    Kazir masked his face, pretending to be annoyed while actually covering his nose. Heightened senses wasn''t always a good thing. The woman''s perfume was thinning his patience very quickly. "I asked where you''re from, not where you work."

    "Don''t know where I was born. Found work in Erid so I''m from Erid."

    For some reason, Kazir imagined her to be flicking her hair like the daughters of wealthy men. Wealthy men he''d killed plenty of. "Any children?"

    "Had three so far," she replied casually.

    "Where are they now?"

    "Don''t know. First one was when I was sixteen. Dropped it off straight at an orphanage. Couldn''t work nine whole months because of the cursed creature. Nearly starved in that time. Ended up having two more when I wasn''t careful but at least I''d had some money saved then. No clue what became of them."

    Kazir sighed. How many would die before they reached age ten? Would any be like him and be sent to the Wickar Temple to go through the horrors he''d suffered? He unconsciously rubbed at the hair wrapped around his neck, recalling memories of the slave collar that was once around it. Did Taissi have sons or daughters? If it was the latter, would they grow up the same as their mother, repeating the cycle?

    "Flames but it''s been over a Scorching month since my time," the woman continued. "Haven''t had any breaks since coming to this camp. I knew the pay wasn''t worth it. Now I might have another curse stuck inside."

    Kazir slowly rose to his feet. To call children she bore curses. He rubbed his aching eyes. Hardly like he had the moral high ground. He slowly drew the scimitar at his waist, mouth drying as the ringing sound vibrated against his eardrums. Was he feeling remorse now of all times? Was it because the target was harmless and unarmed?

    "I''ll say, if you plan to remove my clothing by cutting it, you''ll be paying for it. And I''ll¡ª"

    Taissi''s sweet voice cut off as Kazir sliced through her throat. There was the sound of liquid drops pattering against the floor like rain pulled from branches and leaves by a passing wind. And then there was rustling and gurgling as the woman writhed on the ground.

    And then there was stillness.

    The smell of fresh blood overpowered that of perfume. Kazir wiped the top of his blade and sheathed it again. "Bury the body in snow. I want the skin to look ghastly so it seems more plausible that we dragged Elizia''s body a long distance in this weather. Batter the face and put a pike through it near evening''s end and call a retreat back to camp a little early today. I''ll go pay Kalin another visit."

    The thought of seeing his daughter dead will stew in his mind overnight, stealing his sleep and crushing his men''s morale. Kazir would leave the pike planted in the ground in plain view of Xenarian soldiers. Yes. Keep it there and let them see what had become of their beloved duchess and the Second Princess.

    "As the master commands," Iskra said, stepping out.

    Kazir counted his assassin''s near silent footsteps as they slowly disappeared into the many other sounds outside. Satisfied with how far his aide had gotten, he stumbled over to the edge of his tent and fell to his knees. Part of his hair unravelled, hanging before his bare chest. He clutched at his throat and bent over, the contents of his stomach bursting out. He spat, frowning at the acid taste left in his mouth. The imagination of what he''d just ordered done threatened to linger for years to come. Just this once, he thought his blindness was a blessing.

    Just this once.

    "Flames. When did I become so soft?" he muttered.

 Chapter 84: Another Scheme (Book 2, Chapter 47)

    <u>Chapter 47 - Another Scheme</u>

    "The towers are retreating early today," Rask said, huffing, sword dripping red. He cleaned it with a rag and sheathed the blade. Unlike Kalin, he frequently took part in repelling the Empire''s armies that constantly sought to gain a foothold on the walls using their ladders and siege towers. Parts of the stone parapets were cracking from having siege towers drop their heavy gangplanks onto them.

    Kalin nodded, watching Tarmian soldiers retreat while pulling back their towers. Xenarians continued to pepper them with arrows, but Tarmia had a proper guard holding up thick and wide shields for the occasion. They accompanied the hundreds that were required to pull and push the towers each morning and evening. Each time saw dozens fall to arrows as not everyone could be protected. Normally, holding walls when footholds were created for the attacking side was a difficult maneuver, but the garrison''s better trained forces had prevailed thus far. If this continued, then the defenders would chip away at the Empire''s forces until a sizeable difference had been created.

    "Perhaps they retire to an early rest," Kalin said, keeping a solemn expression, though eager to head inside. Dusk approached and temperatures were dropping. The wall''s defenders were eager to retire as well and change shifts with a fresh batch of well rested men.

    "Mm," Rask agreed, interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms out before him. "The weather has to be getting to them for them to start seeking early rests. Kazir chose a losing battle this time."

    Kalin snorted. "Hasn''t he always chosen losing battles when facing me?" Some of the surrounding soldiers laughed at the remark. Their drained eyes glowed with hints of satisfaction. They stared at their lord, pride on their lips though breathing hard and leaning against their spears. A brief flame just like the sky at sunset. Kalin rewarded them with a praising grin of his own, making sure everyone around him saw it. He was proud of them too. "Go all of you. Eat and sleep. You will be on these walls again at dawn."

    "Salute!" Rask bellowed. All who heard him pressed a fist to their heart in unison while yelling a short cry.

    Kalin clapped the nearest men on their backs as he toured the walls. He hadn''t drawn his sword once to fight during the long month that had already passed. He instead kept a watchful eye over everything from a vantage point within the castle, giving out orders when thinking them needed and only showing himself at the day''s end to praise those who''d fought, fanning the flames of loyalty burning in their hearts. Fighting would not be required of him unless morale began dropping.

    Tarmia didn''t always attack during daylight hours. Sometimes, their supreme commander ordered night assaults too, likely prodding and seeking a weakness as Kazir often did. He checked to see if the garrison had grown complacent or still remained vigilant at all hours. Though night assaults were always half-hearted. Just hundreds of men following commands, trying to put up ladders and gain a foothold when siege towers had failed to win them that.

    The maneuver would seem pointless to the average soldier in the Empire''s camp, but a drawn out siege was more about mental warfare. Prodding attacks at all times kept Xenarian soldiers on edge. Even with how well disciplined Kalin''s army was, he had no doubt that some among his soldiers struggled to sleep at night with screams and clamouring of a battle still raging. Kalin too, after all, had struggled to find long rests, wondering while lying awake about whether his officers were handling things well in his stead. Especially since that blunder on the first night of the siege.

    "Lord Serene!" soldiers above the gate called. "Kazir is coming again."

    Kalin frowned. He rested his arms on stone and peered out at the fields. Sure enough, a rider with a bare torso was slowly pulling up towards the fortress, waves of his own soldiers marching past him. As he drew near, the length of silk black hair around his neck confirmed him as Kazir. A black spot was on his abdomen where the scorpion tattoo of Wickar assassins were.

    "Er, L-Lord Serene," an officer stammered, making his way toward Kalin. He had a spyglass in hand and his arm was shaking. He held out the glass and Kalin took it, holding it up to his eye to better inspect the approaching assassin.

    Kalin''s breath caught. His limbs went rigid. His muscles felt heavy. And his heart pounded. He knew this feeling, but it had been years since he''d last felt it. Chills crawled along his skin. Chills from cold sweat, enhanced by a harsh winter wind.

    Fear.

    Kazir didn''t do things without purpose. He paused a safe distance from the walls, somehow judging what distance was safe despite being blind. Xenarian soldiers on the front wall muttered as they stared at the enemy commander. Those manning ballistae began loading them again.

    Kalin, spyglass still held up, couldn''t look away. Kazir''s left arm muscles bulged, veins showing along them. His left hand was curled around the haft of a spear. And at the top of the spear was the body of a woman skewered through the back and through the bottom of her jaw, tip protruding from the top of the head. The face was battered, barely recognizable. The skin was pale as if left out bare in this weather, but there was a clear olive tint that could be recognized as a dying sun shone on it clear, dried blood down the front of the naked corpse reflecting its light.

    Kalin''s arm trembled as it slowly came down. He wanted to puke, but the hammering in his chest was the only part of his body that seemed to be functioning. His gaze was still glued to the woman ¡ªto the girl on the pike.

    "How is it?" Kazir bellowed, his voice somehow carrying clearly despite the distance he sat at. "How is it seeing your beloved daughter again? It took a lot of effort to drag this corpse back from western Xenaria. You were missing her, weren''t you? So I''ve returned her now." Kazir planted the spear into the ground. "Stare at your precious Elizia all you want, Kalin Serene. She won''t go anywhere. I promise."

    And then he turned and rode off.

    A harsh breeze pressed against the tears rolling down Kalin''s cheeks.

    No.

    This was just another one of Kazir''s ploys. Just a scheme as was usual with him. But the girl''s height and skin¡­ the body seemed fairly toned too. Kalin''s lips parted wide. His mind went blank. He was barely aware of breathing in through the opening. His screaming voice tore into the burning sky. Every soldier near him stared his way, all of them silent, all of them shattered.

    They awaited orders. Awaited them while silently crying themselves.

    Kalin stormed past them and skipped down the steps of the wall. He stalked towards the gate, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Open the gates. Now!" he shrieked. Rask was right there, face stern but tears caught at the beginnings of his beard. He didn''t fall in line behind Kalin, but rather stood in his way. "Move!" Kalin cried. "It''s an order!"

    Rask placed a firm hand on Kalin''s chest. Angered, Kalin swatted the hand aside, and shoved his General with all his might. Rask stumbled back, but he recovered quick and shoved back harder. "Lord Serene, calm yourself," the larger man said.

    "I won''t ask again, Jengard. Don''t stand in my way." Kalin spread his feet apart and slowly drew his sword. Many soldiers had gathered around them now, muttering. "I have to go. I have to go end this now and kill him. I¡­" a stone weight in his throat blocked out any further words. "I have to bring her back," he finally croaked. "I have to see with my own eyes."

    Rask''s gaze flickered to Kalin''s weapon, contemplating hand around the hilt of his undrawn blade. "It''s just a ploy, my lord," he said with a shaky voice. He obviously didn''t fully believe his own words. "He wants to anger you. Anger us. He''s just messing with our minds right now. That could be any woman up there."

    "It could be the corpse of my baby girl!" Kalin shrieked. "Left out for crows rather than buried!"

    "Do you truly believe that? Even if you were to storm out there, even if we were to accompany you, there''s no doubt that a trap awaits us. Just a ploy, Kalin. Just a ploy."

    "It was just a ploy when he poisoned Sar''tara too! Just a ploy to get back at me. How¡­ how is this any different? You expect me to stand firm and in denial while that corpse remains there and the siege continues?" Kalin took a ready stance. "Move, Rask. Please." He smeared his tears across his cheeks.

    Rask nodded to the men behind Kalin and they swiftly restrained him. He roared and struggled but his blade was taken and he soon stopped, strength drained. "Take him away to rest," Rask ordered. "Deploy double the soldiers on the walls tonight. Kazir won''t just stab our morale and leave us to wrap the wound. He''ll come to tear at it further. Do not let his schemes dishearten you! That is not our Second Princess. Elizia is somewhere far to the west, safe and fighting hard for Xenaria. She''ll be expecting the same effort from all of you. Salute!"

    The men cried in unison as they saluted. But it was different than the one they''d given Kalin moments earlier on the wall. Their movements weren''t crisp. Their voices weren''t strong.

    Shadow fell upon the fortress as the sun dipped below the horizon.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ***

    Emeria huffed as she dusted off her rear with one hand and sheathed her thin blade with the other. She untied her hair and let it rest over one shoulder, fanning at her damp neck with little success. It was still possible to work up a sweat when training inside the walls despite the winter weather.

    "Had enough for the day, your highness?" a thick armed knight mocked, smiling innocently. He had a thin layer of brown hair almost like a scrap of cloth placed atop his head, and a scar running across his nose that almost seemed like a pair of frowning lips. He was fully armored, humoring Emeria''s request to fight realistically in the event the need arose. So far it hadn''t, luckily.

    "I will remind you, Sir L''Faleur, that mocking royalty is punishable by various degrees depending on the severity of the insults. And I''m the one that decides the severity," Emeria said.

    "It was a genuine question, princess," Irus L''Faleur continued in a mocking tone.

    Emeria scowled but said nothing more. Strange how she''d grown accustomed to living under siege. Sheltered and pampered as normal while people outside fought during day and sometimes night. Every day, she passed by soldiers who took rotating positions atop the walls. Every day, they greeted her with enthusiasm. Some of them ended up in the infirmary. She visited them as it only felt the right thing to do. But even when injured, they never seemed grim faced or hard pressed as they had on that first day of the siege. Sure they looked a little worn and starved as the days went by, but nothing severe. Things seemed to be going as Duke Serene planned.

    Emeria squatted down and stretched her legs one at a time. She was spared every luxury the castle had to offer, from baths to books to time in the training rooms. That last one might not have appealed to most girls her age, but it was where she''d been spending most of her time since the siege began over a month ago.

    Her stomach growled.

    Almost every luxury, she thought. Even she had to eat reduced portions to save food. Not to mention most food consisted only of porridge with dried meat chunks mixed in. She was sure she could ask for more and the cooks of the garrison would be more than willing to serve, but Emeria wasn''t so insensitive. It wasn''t right for her to indulge when her subjects suffered.

    The dull ache of hunger gnawed at her belly and she ¡ªvery briefly¡ª reconsidered that opinion. "I''m going to the mess hall," she told Irus, who nodded and waved over uniformed Queen''s Guard on standby to follow after her. Irus was now the head of the two dozen knights in charge of her protection. Emeria hoped Sir Draumen was well and returned soon after finding out the truth of his family.

    "Will we be doing the same training tomorrow then, your highness?" Irus asked as he walked to the arms rack and placed two heavy shields ¡ªthick iron blocks really¡ª down next to a set.

    Training he called it. She''d asked for something realistic, wanting to be prepared for the worst. The castle wouldn''t fall, Emeria was sure of it. Not so long as men like Lord Serene and General Rask still defended it. But she''d never been in a real fight, and wanted to know she had the confidence to last in one rather than succumb to fear as she had when imagining what a real fight looked like. Irus, on the other hand, thought she was playing around. He sparred against her without weapons, using his thick arms to hold up twin shields instead, knowing full well her thin blade could do nothing against them.

    Almost nothing, she smirked. She''d managed to poke into the space between his pauldron and breastplate today. Tomorrow, she''d show him how much she''d managed to adapt to his silly tactic and maybe get him to take her more seriously. "Yes, we''ll continue tomorrow," she answered. Irus sighed as if annoyed. "Am I boring you, Sir L''Faleur? Do you believe that I shouldn''t be swinging around a sword? I will remind you that your position as the head of my Guard is only temporary until Sir Draumen''s return."

    Irus shook his head. "No such thing, princess. You think I''ve been playing when I have not. You''re the one that seems annoyed with me rather than the opposite."

    Emeria flinched at the reverse accusation. Her temper flared and her frown deepened. "You think I''m annoyed when all I''ve been asking is for a serious fight? I can beat the soldiers in a duel, but to fight against armored opponents with our lives at risk is a whole different beast. I don''t want to cower in fear if I''m ever placed in such a position."

    "The day you are placed in such a position, your highness, is the day we''ll all have failed. But yes, having the skills to defend yourself is not a bad thing. However, you''re going about this wrong. A fight is not just about killing. What do you feel when you stare at me towering over you whilst holding two giant shields."

    "Annoyed!" she snapped. She flushed as she realized she''d just admitted to annoyance. Irus crossed his arms and cocked his head as if seeking more of an answer. Emeria ground her teeth. "And frustrated," she grumbled.

    "And in your frustration, you are robbed of your delicate movements that I''ve seen many a time within your duels. You do not think with a level head. You know you have no threat to your life since I wouldn''t harm you, so you come again and again with reckless charges."

    "I managed to score a hit to your shoulder!" Emeria protested.

    "A light poke that I barely felt on my mail shirt," Irus said.

    "And how exactly are you supposed to kill me with shields?" she tried, crossing her own arms.

    "I could force you down and pulverize you beneath my boot. I could slam it into you and render you incapacitated. Or, I could stand there, letting your frustration grow, and just let my allies kill you while you try and figure a way to get past me."

    "Allies? What all¡ª oh." All of Emeria''s anger drained away and was replaced by embarrassment. She''d been asking for a realistic fight without considering how a realistic fight would play out.

    Consider every possibility. Every scenario. Prepare on your own assumptions. But be wary when acting on an assumption perceived of the enemy. More words from that infuriating journal she had at her bedside.

    "On the battlefield," Irus said, "when required to hold the lines, thick shields and spears are best. There isn''t much killing happening if both sides are well trained, but the battle is held in a deadlock. That''s the perspective of soldiers on the frontlines. A deadlock might not seem to accomplish anything, but the wider battle unfolds, then, as each army''s commander conducts maneuvers elsewhere."

    "So you''ve just been trying to teach me a lesson then for the past cycle?" Emeria asked.

    Irus smiled. "A lesson I pray you''ll never need to use. Nonetheless, you are equipped with the knowledge. Realistic battles will always be fought in units, but if you wish, tomorrow we can try having you learn how to face multiple opponents on your own. With training weapons of course. Not sharpened blades like you used today."

    Emeria nodded. Her stomach growled again. She turned and left the training field. Two knights waiting at the exit followed after her. She didn''t think she needed the protection here at Arcaeus Peak, but they didn''t go to such lengths as to become a nuisance. One of Lord Serene''s many servants was also waiting in the hallway leading out. Emeria nodded to her without a word, letting her know to prepare a bath in her chambers. Such had become her routine. Read, train, bathe, read again, and sleep. Not much else to be done.

    Castle corridors grew dark as the sun began to set. The sounds of hundreds of footsteps suggested wall defenders were rotating shifts. Only, there were more mutters and whispers than usual. Emeria turned a corner to see an unusual sight. A very unusual sight. Soldiers marching along in disarray like a flock of sheep being driven to their pen, all of them with heads hanging low and shoulders slumped.

    Had the fighting been vicious today? Certainly hadn''t seemed so when Emeria had last checked the walls a few hours earlier.

    Among the passing group was Lord Serene himself, being pulled along by a few others. His face was wet and eyes red. He didn''t even spare Emeria a glance as his men pushed him up a flight of stairs. In fact, no one was sparing her a glance. No one was offering their usual greetings. This felt like the first day all over again, but much worse. The men weren''t on edge this time. They were just¡­ lost.

    "What is going on here?" she demanded, approaching the soldiers. Some of them grumbled greetings and walked past. "I asked what''s going on!" she cried, giving every man a pause. "Has something gone wrong? Are the walls still standing?" She pushed past them and out into the open air, a blast of cold washing over her damp skin.

    The sky was blackening, few final embers scattered amidst the clouds. Silver eagle banners still fluttered upon the ramparts. Waves of well rested soldiers climbed the steps and took their positions. Commander Jengard Rask stood before the still shut gates barking orders. Nothing seemed amiss.

    She turned back to the soldiers who''d resumed their half-hearted shuffling through the corridors. "Will someone tell me what has happened?" she demanded. The two knights at her side pushed away soldiers close to her and opened up a pocket of space around her.

    "That¡­" one man in chainmail mumbled, a half empty quiver strapped to his back and bow in one hand.

    "Um¡­" said another, scratches all over his vambrace and a line of dried blood from a cut on his cheek.

    "Er," said a few more. They had minor injuries and damages to their gear. Nothing to suggest severe hardship that would warrant trained soldiers to act like jaded men who''d lost purpose in their lives.

    "Spit it out!" Emeria ordered.

    The soldiers looked to each other, nervous. One man finally stepped forward. "The enemy commander, Kazir, brought forth a body impaled on a spear. It¡­ belonged to a woman. He left it there and claimed it was¡­ er..."

    "It was who?" Emeria asked, heart beating faster as she ran through all the possibilities that could possibly bring Lord Serene to tears like that. Who would he be so attached to that Tarmia could leverage like that?

    "They claimed it was the Second Princess," one soldier managed.

    Emeria felt alarmed and relieved at the same time. El was somewhere far to the west. There was no way¡­ But would her father be crying like that if there wasn''t some truth to the claim?

    "Kazir said they dragged her all the way from the west," the soldier continued. "I saw it. The body was ghastly pale, but it''s tall and lean and¡ª"

    Emeria didn''t want to hear anymore. She didn''t believe it. She couldn''t. But her feet didn''t carry her to the mess hall as was planned. They ran out, chill night air straining her lungs. Heart pounding, she skipped several stairs as she made her way up to the walls and pushed passed the ranks of muttering men that stood there, some of them pointing to a spear planted in the ground a short distance from the fortress. There, impaled on the spear, was the corpse of a woman. Emeria gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. A wave of nausea overcame her. But she had to confirm it with her own eyes.

    "Someone get me a spyglass," she whispered. A man with an officer''s badge on his shoulder handed one to her. She brought it up to her face with trembling hands. The sickness in her chest grew thick as the full extent of brutality became apparent to her, the image of it firmly planted in her mind like a pressed wax seal. She dropped the glass and heaved her head over the wall, gagging as only saliva fell. Her stomach didn''t have much else to throw up. Some of it caught in her locks which dangled from the side.

    Emeria finally stood straight and sucked in a cold breath, letting it fill her. She closed her eyes and willed the heinous image out of her mind. She then forced herself to feel relief. The face of the corpse was battered.

    It''s not Elizia.

    Emeria repeated those words in her head until she finally started to believe it. Until a fiery confidence burned in her heart. She turned to go back inside but was overwhelmed by the wave of Xenarian soldiers standing there. None of them, from what Emeria could tell, were questioning the truth of the matter at hand. They were drained, and unready. None of them believed that that wasn''t Elizia. Not when their own lord didn''t believe it. Sar''tara was dying. Her daughter perceived dead. House Serene had no heirs. The soldiers saw no future. The tragedy of three years past resurfaced and plagued them anew.

    Their will to fight had been thoroughly shattered.