Davinia stretched, watching the bright balls marking the tails of the launched missiles travel across the cloud-covered sky. They descended in an arc, exploding harmlessly in the shimmering air surrounding the thick pyramid. The Wolfkin clicked her tongue. Make fools pray to the Spirits, and they'll break their foreheads. What idiot decided to conduct a rescue operation using a combat unit fundamentally incapable of stealth?

  True, she hadn't shown her best side either. The Omega stood on a rocky outcrop, trusting the mountain's shadow to completely conceal her from prying eyes. Most of her menagerie, volunteers from the army and ransomed slaves she'd recruited on her way to Rabor, huddled in a small cave used by the serfs to store their found gems in normal weather. Now they had lit a fire and were exchanging jokes, preparing to return home.

  The raging elements didn't bother Davinia. Sandstorms in the Ravaged Lands were capable of flaying a traveler. The dangers of Volnitsa were more reminiscent of the training pits near her village than a true challenge.

  Their mission hadn't ended in failure, but it hadn't seemed possible to complete either. Most importantly, they learned that the girl was alive. Diplomats would rescue the princess; that wasn't much of a problem. They had also procured detailed maps of the area, including caches and the suspected locations of abandoned Old World complexes. This would prove a valuable asset in the future when conquering the region that guarded the route to their rival's poorly defended underbelly. Davinia was far more upset by her misstep. She had sensed something strange about the arriving group. But she hadn't trusted her instincts.

  Oh, well. I saved their skins as best I could. Will be smarter.

  "I hate playing a whore," Cordelia Sunblade hissed, furiously wiping corpse remnants from her limbs with a rag. "Abominable."

  Davinia glanced sideways at the Ice Fang. From a distance, they could have passed for sisters. Both had elongated muzzles filled with fangs. Both were covered in fur, and their fingers concealed claws. But where the divine amber of the Ravager smoldered in the eyes of the Wolfkin, the noble rubies of the Twins sparkled in the eyes of the lady who belonged to the most renowned house of the Ice Fang Order. Davinia was half a head shorter than the sage, possessing more developed muscles, designed to withstand any challenge. Cordelia's movements were naturally graceful, and even here, clad in a tight jacket and shorts, she maintained the cool attentiveness characteristic of the scions of her house. Without distraction, the Ice Fang grabbed a boulder rolling down the slope above, preventing it from striking her.

  For long days, Cordelia served Draz's servants and occasional visitors to the menagerie, pretending to be a sex-obsessed beast. In the heat of intercourse, she listened to the bragging of idiots, heated by carefully prepared drinks, reporting the most important things to Davinia. Today, the Ice Fang had exacted her revenge, surprising Davinia with her restraint.

  The Wolfkin usually killed much more, not forgiving masochistic sessions.

  "Don't frown your muzzle so sourly. We all drew lots. If you don't like straws, next time we can play cards to determine the responsibilities."

  "Which you cheat at too," Cordelia accused.

  "Then you should be more attentive and catch my paw, Sage," Davinia teased with a smile.

  Cordelia probably thought Davinia was mocking her cousin, but in reality, the Wolfkin didn't share the Wolf Tribe's prejudices. The tomes and works written by the Ice Fangs on high society conduct and the fundamentals of successful trade, purchased by Warlord Alpha in the Core Lands as teaching materials, proved invaluable in preserving a legend while infiltrating the ranks of the noble classes of bandits or traitors.

  Although Davinia was shocked by this revelation in her youth. The girl, accepted into the most elite and secretive pack, was stunned to see her elder kin practicing curtsies and courtship instead of the expected duels.

  The teasing served as payback.

  "Lady Cordelia, there's no need to be angry with our cousin," said a voice from the path leading down. "Thanks to her efficient and unorthodox planning, we completed the mission without casualties among our personnel and inflicted damage on the enemies of the Reclamation Army."

  The last member of their troupe climbed the ledge, shaking the surrounding area with its weight, causing a rain of stones to pound the black helmet emblazoned with a skull spewing flames. Ibrahim Ironwill removed the replica of Draz's armor from his head, pressed a paw to his chest, and bowed to the females, and Davinia caught her breath.

  Covered in sparse scars, tall and powerful, with rounded ears instead of the usual pointed ones, and eyes sparkling with a light comparable to the brilliance of warlords, the Ice Fang was a stunning beauty. His husky voice simultaneously commanded obedience and warmth, and his fur was adorned with a slightly yellowish tint. Physically, he was the perfect male. He still retained a certain inner naivety but was devoid of stupidity and incompetence. She desired him, melting at the prospect of raising their cubs. But the chances of a union between a lowly spy and the heir to an influential house were zero.

  The Ice Fangs had been foisted upon her by the Investigation Bureau at the request of First. The Sunblades likely yearned to master the skills of the Omega Pack. Cordelia's desire to meet the Alpha indirectly confirmed this assumption. What Ibrahim, who was being groomed to assume the role of a Sword Saint, wanted, Davinia did not know.

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  At first, Davinia wasn't sure what to do with the two burdens, but both distant relatives proved far from useless and readily carried out her orders. She intended to reward them with a book on the basics of swindling, authored by herself, as soon as she had time to complete it.

  "Not without losses," Davinia corrected. "The Oathtakers lost three. I don't think the youngster made it to the cruiser."

  "We consider them allies?" Cordelia asked.

  "Our countries are no longer enemies." Ibrahim slammed his fist to his heart, watching the cruiser disappear. "And I will honor anyone who liberates the defenseless."

  Cordelia joined him, repeating the gesture.

  "May the Trinity ensure their safe passage to the Spirits," they both said in unison.

  Why do you distort our faith? The scene amused Davinia.

  "Cordelia. I promised..."

  "...The slaves will be compensated for their assistance," the sage waved her paw. "That didn't escape my attention. House Sunblade will pay every last token."

  "It will be an honor to provide refuge to our loyal comrades. Naturally, I will also personally appear on television refuting the accusations of treason brought against you," Ibrahim promised.

  What a sweetheart he is. Davinia turned to Rabor, hiding her blush, and said, "I'll miss our menagerie."

  "I won't," said Cordelia.

  "We haven't even had time to collect our earnings," said Ibrahim.

  "Ibrahim! Don't you dare take her side," Cordelia hissed. "I don't want to see that money or think about how we earned it!"

  "Every token not invested in a profitable enterprise is a token wasted. Wastefulness invites decadence, weakening our bloodlines..."

  "Enough quoting ancient teachings!" Cordelia grabbed the motionless Ibrahim by the neck. "Not a word! I don't want to hear anything about this matter!"

  "We won't even compose ballads glorifying our exploits?" Ibrahim asked innocently.

  Cordelia let out an incoherent howl. Noticing the upturned corner of Ibrahim's mouth, Davinia decided the shamans and the older generation had been mistaken about the gulf between the two groups. The Wolfkins and the Ice Fangs shared similar pastimes.

  "Okay. Enough of this nonsense." Cordelia stopped feigning strangulation on Ibrahim and straightened her clothes. "Thank you for the outlet. I needed it."

  "Dancing with suitors at balls will undoubtedly soothe your troubled soul," Davinia said.

  "Screw it. A night out at a club, massages, and a spa will lift our spirits much better. We're waiting for you too, so don't even think about disappearing, or we'll scour the desert until we find you and show you every slewd spot in Stormfiend." Cordelia smirked. "How's your wound?"

  "Was Lady Davinia injured?" Ibrahim reached for the torn hem of the Wolfkin's jumpsuit.

  "Just a scratch." Rolling her eyes, she allowed the gallant male to examine her. "You were in more danger."

  "Uh-huh. Sure," Cordelia snorted. "What do you think? Will she grant me an audience now?"

  "Unlikely in person..." Davinia drawled thoughtfully. "The warlord doesn't trust your kind. Something about past betrayal. As if we're not on the same side. But I think she'll agree to a conversation over the terminal. Now give me a moment of silence; I need to report to the employer before he does anything wrong."

  The communications specialist brought a small suitcase from the cave and laid it out on the cliff. A long communications antenna emerged from it, an exact duplicate of six identical devices hidden in the ravines of Volnitsa. The signal traveled eastward through each one, eventually reaching an old communication tower in the Wastes.

  From there, the signal would travel to the local Investigation Bureau office and finally connect to the sender via an encrypted line. In the event of an attempt to eavesdrop on the system, each device would first send signals in random directions to mask the sender's location, and then initiate a self-destruct sequence.

  The communications specialist received confirmation from the remaining transmitters and raised a thumbs-up, confirming they had survived the storm. They could have used Iterna's satellite coverage for communication, but Davinia preferred to eliminate any chance of information leakage.

  Taking the terminal, she sat cross-legged and spoke today's password, adding the coordinates of the person in the Steppe.

  "It's me." The crackling of burning wood came from the other end of the line. "Yes, sir. Success. Boragchin has indeed been captured by Latif." Now the sound of a blazing fire, threatening to melt the steel, came from the terminal. "No need. Already dead. No, not by my paw. She's unharmed. The Oathtakers freed her. No, they couldn't determine her identity. She calls herself Tsereg." Davinia briefly recounted her discovery, emphasizing her confidence in the girl's safety. "Not possible. Their cruiser is currently heading south from Rabor, then they'll pass through the Itil’s turf. My guess, sir. Yes, they're probably returning. I recommend…"

  The connection was lost. She glanced at the communications officer, but he quickly checked the small antenna and folded it back up.

  “We’re being jammed. Someone’s even blocked satellite communications in the region,” the specialist said.

  “Have we been detected?” Cordelia lay flat on her stomach, studying the city in the distance.

  “I don’t think so. Draz doesn’t have access to such means. It’s more likely the latter,” Ibrahim said.

  “Oops.” Davinia handed over the terminal.

  “What, ‘oops’?” Cordelia asked.

  “I didn’t have time to assure him that we would safely rescue Boragchin through diplomatic channels. Probably should have contacted the Dynast, but you know how tense the Gilded Horde’s folks are.” Davinia forgot her manners, tapping her fingertips together. “I wanted to reassure him…”

  The sage rose, bulging her eyes. An understanding expression appeared on Ibrahim’s snout.

  “And accidentally kick-started a war,” Cordelia said weakly. "Do you know what will happen here if he clashes with Paikan?"

  "I'd bet on the khan. He survived an explosion comparable to a nuclear one during the duel..." began the knight-captain.

  "What difference does it make!" Cordelia interrupted him, clutching her head. "I don't care what diplomatic scandal ensues or which of them survives! Think of the locals! Of our allies in the steppe! Do they need to die while titans fight? So many people on both sides are at risk!"

  "Your prudence shames my immaturity," Ibrahim said, bowing. "How do we stop the tragedy? Armies don't assemble in a day..."

  Davinia jumped to her feet, wheeling away from Cordelia's paws.

  "Enough idleness, friends!" She clapped her palms. "Pack up; we're leaving this inhospitable land through the south. Perhaps we're all worrying over nothing..."