Sara smmed into a chair, its wooden joints creaking under the assault. Evie circled around front of her, spping down a series of thick, dusty books. She'd had them tucked in her waistband, and Sara guessed the time it took for her to retrieve them was what had kept the feline away for so long.

  The building they'd occupied appeared, rather unfortunately, to not be one of the abandoned ones, even if no one was home at the minute. Sara was sat before a kitchen table, one decorated with simple wooden ptes and a bowl for fruits, and the countertops had the usual clutter of regur occupation. A living room was connected to the right, a few lightly padded chairs facing a firepce with ash piled on the stone, and the windows had stted shutters that Evie went about closing with irritated snaps, blocking them off from the outside world. Sara opened her mouth to say something, saw Evie's eyebrows raise, then closed it.

  When the windows were shut and the front door bolted, Evie returned to the table, fingertips pressing on the books she'd selected. She stood across the table from where Sara sat, the only way the catgirl could tower over her.

  "Do you know what these are, Master?" Evie asked, tapping a cw on the book.

  "No?"

  Evie slid one across the table, violently enough that Sara had to jump to catch it. "They are textbooks, Master. Military textbooks. Basic tactics, elementary formations, and the philosophy of combat that any halfwit officer should have committed to memory in their formative years." She gred down at Sara. "Do you know what you're going to do, Master?"

  Sara looked at the title of the book. Illustrated Tactics of Peasant Levies in Support of Cavalry, A Treatise. She could feel its heft, and it wasn't because the individual pages were thick.

  "...I'm going to re--"

  "You are going to read them, Master. All of them. And when you are finished, you are going to prove to me that you have read them, and if I find your comprehension unsatisfactory, you will re- read them. Do you know why?"

  "Because I--"

  "Because you flew off the handle like a toddler throwing a tantrum, Master. You risked your life, and by extension the lives of your troops, not to mention the fate of your nation, and didn't even think to bring a. Single. Person. With. You."

  Sara set the book down on the table, hunching her shoulders. "I know I did, Evie, but you couldn't expect me to just leave Hurlish--"

  "Of course not!" Evie snapped shrilly. "Your actions were a disgrace to your station, but it would have been nearly as foolish to condemn Hurlish to her fate!" She slid another book across the table, which thumped against Sara's chestpte. Evaluating the Retive Value of Objectives at the Tactical and Strategic Level. "You are not from this world, Master, and until today, I had been content to view your ignorance in a positive light. It seemed to me that what you cked in practical knowledge was well outweighed by the strange litany of asymmetric topics you espouse knowledge of, but that no longer holds true if you will be using your old world's logic to justify idiotic decisions like this one."

  Evie spped a piece of paper down on the table. "Quill and inkpot," she snapped. Sara hurriedly retrieved them from the bag of holding, handing them over. Evie began to scribble dense words as she spoke. "You have told me much of the egalitarian values of your old society. These are respectable. Admirable, even. Something to aspire to. But one thing you have failed to understand, and which I have clearly failed to teach you, is that these ideals cannot be applied to military leadership. You, Master, are not your subordinate's equal."

  Sara bristled reflexively. "Just because I'm in charge doesn't mean their lives matter any less."

  "Incorrect." Evie moved the paper aside, having reached the bottom, and began filling a second page with titles of military textbooks. "Your life is worth, at present, dozens of theirs."

  "That's absurd."

  "It is fact. Tell me, Master, how many did you kill in the battle today?"

  With her hackles raised, it took Sara a moment to think back. "I don't know. A dozen, maybe? Two dozen, tops?"

  "Do you know how many deaths the enemy suffered in battle today?"

  "No?"

  "Of those facing you on the docks, not including the ship Ignite dealt with, there were fifty casualties of the hundred involved combatants. Half that number died. I inspected the battlefield, Master, and after tracing your steps, I can confirm that your second estimate was the most accurate. You alone were directly responsible for nearly half of the enemy's entire combat losses." Evie finished writing, throwing down the quill so she could cross her arms at Sara. "You speak regurly of your old world's Public Education, Master. You learned arithmetic, yes? Let's put it to the test. A hundred enemies, fifty casualties, twenty five by your hand. We will say the Guard assisting you numbered approximately fifty, to simplify calcutions." Evie spread her palms wide. "How many soldiers are you worth?"

  "If they downed the same number as me, that means I did the work of fifty troops. Is that what you're trying to get me to say? That my life is worth fifty of theirs?"

  "In a moral, ethical sense? Obviously not, Master. I'm not fool enough to think I could convince you of that, no matter how much I would like you to protect yourself as you might fifty innocents. But the battlefield, as you should well know, is not dominated by ethics. It is arithmetic, Master. Cold, cruel, numbers. And it dictates that a drop of your blood is worth a gallon of theirs." Evie leaned forward even further, just enough to jab a finger into Sara's breastpte. Her cw made an awful screeching noise on the steel. "You are their commander. You are their Irregur. You lead them through the battle, and if you make the right decisions, you will carry them to victory. Without you, they lose. Without you, they die." She held out an open palm. "Everything they were fighting for? All the people they were struggling to protect? The ideals which you seek to instill in them?" Evie's fist clenched shut. "Crushed. Gone. Worthless and forgotten. If you truly think their lives are equal to yours, Master, you will learn the restraint necessary to preserve them."

  Sara had been pushed back by Evie's words throughout the speech, retreating into the chair until she was scraping its legs across the floor. After a moment of silence, nothing but the murmuring of those outside to fill the air, Sara quietly said, "But what about Hurlish? She's an Irregur, too, isn't she? And the city's armorer. She had to be worth the risk."

  Evie took a deep breath, then pulled out a chair, sitting down. "She was worth a risk, Master. But a different, more thought-out risk. Did you know that nearly the entirety of the Tulian Guard's losses were experienced in the few minutes that you were away from them? Twelve casualties, per the initial reports. Not because they cked your swordarm, mind you, but because they immediately threw themselves into a desperate push to reach you, uncoordinated and ill-advised as they were without a commander. As every proper soldier ought to do, as they are trained to do, they immediately began throwing themselves at the enemy in order to retrieve their Irregur. In fact, they cim to have nearly succeeded in breaking through the enemy's line, with Ignite's arrival only hastening the victory."

  Evie sighed, some of her anger defting. "I am not asking you to grow selfish, Master. Only... cautious. Not even cautious, truly, as boldness can be a very desirable trait in a commanding officer, but at the very least you must curb your recklessness. If you had only organized your troops for an assault, taking the ship by force, and reached Hurlish that way, your goals could have been accomplished with far less risk and far fewer casualties. Can you accept that? That risking yourself now risks everyone else, too?"

  Sara nodded slowly. Quietly, almost silent, she whispered, "I can. I'm sorry."

  "Good." Evie reached over and flipped open the first book. "Then let us begin your education." Sara felt her face twist, the expression one that Evie caught. "What, Master? Out with it."

  "It's just-- I mean, I know you're mad, but--"

  "You have other business to attend to?" Evie countered, eyebrow raised.

  Sara cringed. "Yes. Ketch stole one of the enemy captains, right, and I was hoping to speak to Vesta before I interrogated him, and he's waiting with some of the Guard right now because I convinced him I was a fancy noble type, so..."

  Sara trailed off, looking sheepish. Evie sighed in irritation, but closed the book. "Fine. But if you think you will be getting a full night's rest tonight, you are mistaken."

  -------------------------

  ----------------------

  -------------------

  Vesta had, perhaps appropriately, been sequestered deep into the byrinthian halls of the Tulian Keep. Even Evie had to backtrack a few times in the servant's hallways, losing count of the twisting turns that burrowed through the spaces between rooms, but they eventually found their way.

  The room that Tarlin had selected for the sire and heirs of House Vesta was a cramped, stuffy pce. Likely a storeroom once upon a time, the furniture that Vesta and her sons perched upon were no more than dusty barrels with rugs thrown across for padding. All the same, Vesta swept up into a graceful bow the moment Sara entered the room, bending a bit lower than she might've in other circumstances. Her sons betedly followed her example, though Sara didn't overlook their mild confusion at seeing their mother so genuinely subservient, and of course their mild irritation at having to mirror her.

  Hey, kids, check the attitude. I fucked your mom and killed your dad.

  Sara gave herself a mental swat, not letting the thought get anywhere near her tongue. Vesta stood up from her bow, smile beaming despite the mess that had been made of her presentation.

  "Lady Sara! It has been too long, hasn't it?"

  Sara offered her healed hand, the flesh there still pink and tender to the touch. "Missed me that much?" Lady Vesta took her hand and gave it a dainty shake, familiar with the appearance of the commoner's greeting, if not its use. "It's only been six weeks, but it seems like we've got plenty to catch up on."

  "Regretfully so," Vesta agreed, nose crinkling as she inspected the dried blood her hand acquired from Sara's. "Should we send my children out, so we may speak freely?"

  Sara raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to speak, but the kid to Vesta's left beat her to it. "What could you say in front of the Champion that you couldn't say before us, Mother?" His voice, while deep enough for his age of not-quite-twenty, had a lingering cadence of childishness. "You've dragged us to another country without hardly a word, Mother. We are well overdue an expnation."

  Vesta turned to face him, lips pressed thin. "Bene, I told you nothing so that you could not have the information tortured out of you, assuming our capturers had kind enough souls to not do so for mere spite, unlikely as it may be. If it weren't for Lady Sara's generosity and hospitality, I suspect we four would be under the knife at this very moment. So if you damn well please, you'll do as I say, or I will have Tarlin haul you three from this room to spare me the indignity of further interruption."

  If Sara blinked with surprise at Vesta's words, her children shriveled. Sara certainly hadn't expected that kind of reproach from the noblewoman, and her children clearly hadn't either. They looked equally appalled and cowed as they quickly gathered themselves up to leave the room. Tarlin followed after, nodding to Evie as they passed one another. Sara could have sworn their ears flicked enough for a full conversation.

  With Tarlin and the children gone, Vesta promptly colpsed onto the nearest barrel, slouching in every sort of unseemly manner. She licked her palm, rubbing it across the ash stains on her face.

  "Gods," she quietly swore. "Do you have a mirror, Sara?"

  "I do," Sara confirmed, pulling one from her bag. "I was wondering where the Vesta I knew went. Good to see you."

  Vesta took the hand mirror and began pecking at her appearance, doing her best to correct the worst of the damage. "Yes, well, you have always evoked a certain brand of cordiality in me, Sara. Best not to set the example for the boys."

  Sara selected a barrel across from her, positioning it in such a way that Evie could watch both of them and the door. "How old did you say they were?"

  "Bene just turned twenty, Aric is eighteen, and Banei is just over a year younger. You would be forgiven for thinking them younger, I will say. I've done much to shelter them."

  "Hey, I'm not gonna judge. Your kids, your prerogative."

  "Hm," Vesta sighed, swiping fingers through her tangled hair, "I do question my judgement, sometimes. The brutality of the court is great, but deying their exposure may have done more harm than good. I certainly don't regret limiting their father's influence upon them, at the very least."

  "That what you were trying to do? Make sure they have a decent moral compass on 'em before throwing them to the wolves?"

  "More or less, I suppose. That and stuffing all the education into their skulls that my resources could muster. It was fortunate that none of them were away for study when I had to flee as I did."

  Sara kicked her feet up, stretching. She still hadn't taken her armor off, and she likely wouldn't for some time yet. Paranoia wouldn't let her. "So, about that. Last I heard, you were pretty content to sit around in Hagos and feed me info. What changed?"

  Vesta set the mirror aside, expression firming. "Masquerade balls quite suddenly came into fashion, Sara. A craze straight from the capital, freeing any and all to walk among nobility with their faces covered."

  Sara rubbed the bridge of her nose, working through whatever Vesta was trying to imply. "Masquerade balls... Faces covered... Disguises? Those creepy dudes that showed up after I burned the sve market?"

  Vesta nodded. "I suspect as much. Obviously, a mask is easy to exchange, and so none matched your descriptions, but it stands to reason. In the weeks since your departure, there was a ball at least once every day. Even my agents couldn't track all the intrigue that began flying, save for the fact that a great deal of it spoke exceptionally poorly of two people."

  Sara groaned. "Let me guess: me and you?"

  "Precisely." Lady Vesta began combing at her dress now, a purely practical kind of preening, rather than the alluring sort she'd practiced before Sara in Hagos. Sara took the time to absorb what she'd said, calling to mind hazy memories.

  "Evie? Do you remember what they said? I was kind of dying of blood loss."

  "Certainly, Master," she replied cooly. Sara winced at the tone. She was really going to have to find a way to make up for her idiotic excursion. "If you order to me recall it, I believe I will likely be able to reproduce the exact words."

  Sara's stomach rolled a little at using the colr's magic, but it could hardly be argued that she was forcing Evie to do anything when the catgirl was the one who presented it.

  "Alright, if you're sure." Evie's eyes rolled. "Recall exactly what occurred that night."

  The colr fshed, a little shudder rolling through Evie as she straightened. "Forty spearmen arranged in a defensive V formation protecting ten masked figures in clothing appropriate for nobility, no outfits of which were at the sve auction itself. One figure was raised above the others, their voice magically disguised. Immediately after our exit, they greeted you and implied you were stealing the sves for sexual gratification, to which you responded," Evie cleared her throat.

  "Your corpse won't even have time to get cold before I toss it in the fucking river."

  Vesta gave Sara a look. She could only shrug, somewhat sheepish. Evie continued.

  "The figure responded, 'I see. I assume that negotiations to change your pns will be out of the question, then?' You responded that you had no pn, aside from killing svers, as the fight had been the best party you'd been to in years. Their response was, 'A shame. I'd hoped you to be more open to diplomacy.'"

  Sara looked away from Vesta, recalling her next words quite clearly. Evie continued her recitation in clinical tones.

  "Your reply was, 'Gonna open up your fat fucking guts, that's what I'm gonna do, find out what you ate st night, gonna take your stupid fucking cloak and hang you by it, gonna cut your tendons-"

  Suffering under Vesta's increasingly withering gaze, Sara finally waved her hands, stopping Evie. "Alright, alright! I think we all get what I was saying. Let's just say I responded in the negative and focus on their bits."

  "Very well, Master. The figure then expressed, speaking to their fellows, that your response 'Fairly well qualifies a refusal on her part, wouldn't you agree? Then we will bid you adieu, Champion of Amarat'. After that, the party retreated into an alley in organized fashion, presumably scattering some time ter. With you unconscious and a crowd of freed sves to coral, I apologize that I could not spare the time for pursuit."

  "Of course you couldn't, Evie," Sara said sternly. "You don't have to do everything on your own, you know. I've been screwing you over with work way too much from the start, anyway. I really need a bigger admin team."

  Evie smirked, the curl of her lips barely perceptible. "I do not mind being screwed, Master. It is only when it inhibits other duties that it becomes problematic."

  It was Sara's turn to roll her eyes at the innuendo, even if she privately found it reassuring. Maybe Evie wasn't too mad.

  "Well," Vesta breathed, breaking the silence. "I do think that the encounter could have been handled slightly better, Sara."

  "Okay, probably, but in my defense? I was literally bleeding out from a knife in my gut. The patience was pretty thin by that point." Sara shoved herself back on the barrel, rocking it back and forth as her thoughts churned. "So you think the masked figures had something to do with your ousting, Vesta?"

  "Some masked figures are responsible for my ousting, Sara. Whether it was the same that you encountered or not is difficult to say, but it seems most probable."

  "And why do you say that, Lady Vesta?" Evie asked, joining the conversation properly. Her eyes remained steadfastly locked on the door, hand loose and ready to summon her rapier. "Political machinations are obtuse and frequent. You know as well as I that coincidence, no matter how distasteful it is to admit, has far more prominent a role in our lives than most would like to admit."

  "You're correct about coincidence, Evie, but my intuition says the timing was deliberate. The specific accusations leveled against me, of which there were many, were nonetheless universally peculiar. Aric's death was mentioned rarely, if ever, entirely repced by my entanglement with Lady Sara. Whispers that my dismissing of my sves was a sign of senility or foul influence, and that I would soon drive my House to financial colpse by embracing foolish ideals of peasant's rights and abolitionism."

  "Was it all like that?" Sara asked. "Because you're right, that's weirdly specific. Sure, you got rid of your colred sves, but you still had house staff out the ass, and only an idiot would have thought you were broke, considering how easily you dropped all that cash on me."

  "Indeed," Vesta replied, tipping her head to Sara. "If anything, the accusations were only tangentially reted to anything I'd truly done. It was closer to a preemptive strike against the ideals you pnned for me to espouse, once Tulian became a beacon for Sporatos to emute. While I lost most of my records in the evacuation, my spymaster had mountains of overheard insults that used the nguage of wyers, rather than gossips. Terms like 'proponent of pro-peasant individualism' were thrown as casually as barmaids bickering over a mutual attraction call each other whores."

  "And the fact that it all came to a head so rapidly is suspicious in and of itself," Evie hummed. "I assume you had no rivals in Hagos with the resources to unch such a committed assault upon your person?"

  "Of course not, I ruined them decades ago," Vesta said with a wave. "The sudden trend of masquerades is the key part, I feel. Even high society does not seize upon trends with such ferocity naturally."

  "It started in the capital, right?" Sara asked. Vesta nodded. "Then that might fit with the rest of it. I mentioned it briefly in our letters, but we were pursued by a Carrion Magecraft right out of Port Agrith. A captain friend of mine said that's the kind of favor traded by nations, not people, which implies a certain level of Sporaton involvement."

  "You widen the scale of conspiracy even more, Sara," Vesta replied. "I only wish that I could disagree. A coordinated assault upon our characters, unched across nations. It was a week of walking to Port Agrith, yes?"

  Sara nodded.

  "Then the Magecraft was requisitioned on nearly the same day that my sources say the first masquerade ball was held in the capital. Too neat for coincidence."

  Sara licked her lips, eyeing Evie. "Think this has anything to do with old Tennyson?"

  "Anything is possible, Master, but I would caution against ascribing all your woes to a single source."

  "Tenneson?" Vesta asked, cocking her head. "I am unfamiliar with the Tenne family."

  "Oh, no, that's just a nickname for it," Sara said. "I can tell you about it, but I will warn you, it's Champion-grade stuff. The kind of bad news where knowing it puts your life in danger."

  Vesta frowned pointedly. "Hence why I sent my children from the room, Sara. Tell me of it."

  "The Tenth God."

  The sentence hung in the stuffy air. Vesta sat back, what little she'd regained of her regal posture degrading by degrees. Sara and Evie waited patiently. Vesta's face twitched inscrutably, minor reflections of the turmoil below.

  After several minutes of silence, she opened her lips with a wet noise, licking them. "...I see," she nervously ventured.

  "Yeah," Sara sighed. "I guess it's good that you see, because we sure don't. You're one of five people in all the world, at least as far as we've confirmed, that know of it. Me, Evie, Hurlish, Garen, and now you. As for the who, what, why, where, or anything else, we're in the dark. All we've got is that when I was being offered my choice of patron, there was a silent, tenth god. They said nothing, hid in darkness, and generally didn't want anything to do with me. Ever since, I've been jumping at every shadow that even vaguely resembles the number ten. Which, I'll add, was how many nobles were there to confront me that night."

  Vesta nodded mutely, eyes distant. After a time of further reflection, she asked Sara a few more stilted questions, all of which had no answer. The room's mood, which wasn't exactly stelr, had cratered. Sara was once again reinforced in her belief that telling others of the tenth god was a thing to do be done sparingly; after all, if someone as resolute as Lady Vesta was rocked by the knowledge, how would someone less resilient fare? Sara could only imagine the horrific paranoia such a thing would awake in Ketch and Ignite.

  When Vesta had exhausted her questions, Sara began an effort to let her recover. She left the room with Evie, inviting Tarlin and Vesta's kids back in, and went to retrieve tea. Navigating out of the keep, finding some random homeowner nearby who'd sell her a few cups of tea, and then making her way back took a little less than a half hour, and so she returned to a Vesta that was back in her usual form. Straight-backed and prideful, if a bit soot-soaked.

  "So," Sara said as she returned, setting out the lukewarm teas, "time for the elephant in the room. How'd all this intrigue crap end up with you on the run?"

  Vesta took a polite sip of her tea, admirably hiding her grimace at the unrefined product. She'd clearly decided her children could hear this portion of the discussion, even if they seemed to have been privately cautioned to keep their thoughts to themselves.

  "That's comparatively elementary, Lady Sara. The culmination of the rumors came in an accusation that I was pnning to defect from Sporatos, too far under the thrall of a 'Corrupted Champion' to remain loyal anymore. You, the rumormongers decred, have been twisted by the dark magics of the Eliah heir. Even certain churches began to whisper that you were a traitor to Amarat, not just the nation, and I was soon to follow in your sordid steps."

  Evie sniffed primly, while Sara openly ughed. "I'm pretty sure if there was anyone doing the corrupting in this retionship, it was me."

  "Quite, Master."

  "Well, be that as it may, the rumors had sufficient truth to them that those calling for my conviction would have inevitably seen it through. I'd already begun the restructuring of my assets to ease the transition to Tulian, after all, and it would not take a particurly gifted tax reeve to ascertain as much. In ordinary circumstances I would have taken more time to prepare my flight, as these trials take months or years to arrange, but I had already been caught unaware by the pace of events. I fled in the night with all I could muster, and my paranoia was borne out by the pursuit of the very ships you have so kindly destroyed."

  Of all present, Evie's shock was the greatest. Aghast, she asked, "They really began an assault upon High Nobility in so short a timeframe?"

  Vesta shrugged. "Fleeing assured my guilt, I suppose. I've no idea what orders the ships were given, but if their use of fme over boarding is any indication, capturing me alive was not a priority."

  "Still," Evie said, shaking her head. "My mother was caught by the Holy Champion in the midst of communing with the messengers of an enemy army, then assaulted said Champion in a battle that half the city bore witness to, practically screaming her guilt all the while. Even then, the trial sted a week. To be put to death without even that..."

  Vesta nodded primly, while her sons regarded the description of events with a mixture of disgust and bewilderment. Sara wondered if this was the first moment that they were putting together Evie's appearance and the rumors of the Eliah heir, sole inheritor of a title maligned across the kingdom, or if their disgust was for their mother's ill treatment. Likely both, she decided.

  "Well," Sara said with a cp, standing. She nodded to Vesta's sons. "I apologize for monopolizing Lady Vesta's time, which rightly should have been spent on recovery. I still have a great deal of work to pursue in light of the battle, so I will entrust your protection to Tarlin and the concealment of this location for the time being. I will return as soon as possible with better accommodations, but until we can verify the loyalties of enough soldiers to form a proper honor guard for your mother, I must ask that you remain in hiding. Have you any concerns before I leave?"

  Addressing the sons themselves was a deliberate choice. They'd been powerless to help their mother for some time now, and it didn't take Amarat's Champion to see the way it grated on all of them. Sara was offering them some agency in the situation, no matter how minor.

  The oldest, Bene, stood. "If we are to be staying here for potentially days, where are our provisions?"

  Sara gestured to the barrel he'd just stood up from. "This location was already being prepared by Evie as a potential redoubt. There are dried rations and water in each barrel."

  "And what of comfort?" Asked one of the younger ones. Aric, Sara thought. "You can't expect a noblewoman to sleep upon stones, Lady Sara."

  "I think your mother is capable of weathering more than you might expect, but the point is valid. Tarlin, I will have someone leave bedrolls and pillows in the grand hall upstairs, sometime before sunset. You may retrieve them when you think it best."

  The feline bodyguard nodded, the formality of it looking odd considering his dishevelment.

  The boys asked a few other questions, of increasingly less relevance, until eventually Evie made a move toward the door, signaling that the conversation was over. Sara bid them farewell, hair standing on end by being forced to endure such formality, and made her exit.

  Following Evie through the maze of servant's halls, Sara quietly said, "So, Tarlin. A Feline. What's up with that?"

  "What do you expect me to say, Master? He is indeed a feline. Our kind are quite rare, but not vanishingly so."

  "Aren't they usually nobility, though? Like, because they're so desirable or whatever, they usually get swept up into some noble's family to pad their pedigree?"

  "Such is usually the case, Master, if they were not already direct descendants of the original Felines gifted to nobility by the Fey. I can't say for certain what caused Tarlin or his family to lose their status, but he has not fallen far. Being the personal guard for nobility is a quick path to Knighthood, if he truly has no title to his name."

  "Guess that's kind of shot, though," Sara sighed. "I hope he won't be mad at me for abolishing nobility."

  "He seems a man dedicated to his charge above all else, Master. So long as Lady Vesta does not object, I can't imagine he will take exception."

  The walk back to the harbor, which they took in no particur hurry, consumed the rest of the afternoon. Sara stopped by the warehouse to polish and spiff up her armor, discarding her one operational gauntlet so she'd at least be symmetrical. Hurlish, recovering in their room, assured her that the broken piece was repairable, but couldn't make any promises about preserving the enchantments in the process.

  Sara made her way to the captured captain at sunset, quietly pleased to see that the Guard she'd spoken to had followed the spirit of her orders, not just the letter. They'd gone out and requested citizens to donate fine furniture for the evening, decorating a dining room with what remained of Tulian's gold-trimmed tables and fluffy padded chairs. A meal was being prepared, extravagant by Tulian standards (if simple for noble pates), and would soon be ready.

  Sara made a note of the sergeant who'd organized the efforts. The woman had correctly guessed that Sara was readying the Captain for interrogation and had spent the intervening hours preparing things as best she could for Sara's task. Sara thanked her personally, then made a note to recommend her for promotion to Ignite.

  The efforts, regrettably, stripped away any excuse she had to dey the meeting. The Captain was already inside the spruced-up room, awaiting her arrival. Sara whispered a st few sets of commands to the Guards surrounding the building, then spent a moment correcting her appearance.

  Her armor was impressive as always, naturally. The ensorcelled steel allowed the most stubborn bloodstains and soot marks to wipe away with a wet rag, glimmering pink runes returned to their full luster. Her helmet and its chainmail she stuffed in a bag nearby, letting her hair fall down over her shoulders, Amarat's blessings proving their worth. No matter how much sweat, humidity, and blood she assaulted her hair with, it never got messier than a few stylish curls, raven locks shining in the evening sun. Her metal skirt of interwoven ptes swung nearly as easily as her hair, their uncanny ease of movement not too far from cloth in how it conformed over her legs. The metal sabatons she wore for boots took a bit longer to clean, mud having wedged itself in the articuted nooks and crannies, but it wasn't overly bothersome. After a few minutes of preening, she was ready for the meeting.

  She walked up to the door and shoved it open, striding into the room breathing hard, an apologetic smile on her lips.

  "I do apologize, Captain Vidanya. Impossible to find good help these days, isn't it?"

  The moribund captain nearly leapt out of his chair, roused from his nap by the bang of the door against the far wall. He hurriedly straightened himself, running a hand through his comb-over.

  "Ah! Ah, Lady Sara. Yes, it is always the way, isn't it? I assume your staff required your personal attention to remedy their struggles?"

  "Don't they always?" Sara asked airily, folding her hands behind her back to observe the furniture. "I am gd that my orders to find a pce of holding appropriate to your station were not ignored. I've made great strides in civilizing this nd, but craftsmen capable of outfitting a noble manor are frustratingly rare."

  "My wife compins of much the same in Sporatos, Lady Sara. While those of skill are perhaps more common, those who do not try to cheat their betters are frustratingly rare."

  "I sympathize with her dilemma, Captain Vidanya," Sara intoned seriously, even while she held off the urge to grind her teeth. A glutton and cheapskate. Of course.

  Sara quickly selected a seat away from the dining table, inviting Captain Vidanya to wait in more comfortable fashion for their meal to arrive. Most of Ignite's advice had applied specifically to dinners between captains, leaving her somewhat adrift in the informal social setting, but if she made any faux-pas during the conversation, Vidanya didn't show it. Sara didn't even try to ply Vidanya for information while they waited, instead doing her best to slide into his good graces. She asked after his wife, his estate, his ship and how he acquired command of her, and a litany of other personal details that any self-absorbed individual loved to speak about. He did mention, unprompted, that he possessed several colred sves, and Sara had to work to hide the set of her jaw at the news. She didn't quite succeed, judging by his quick changing of the topic, but aside from the brief stumble, the conversation proceeded very well. By the time a knock at the door signaled the arrival of the food, what suspicion Vidanya held for her was thoroughly undermined.

  "I must say, Lady Sara," he said as they watched the food be set out, "You are not at all like we were led to believe. It seems our intelligence on your bearing was rather out of date, if it had ever been accurate in the first pce."

  "Oh?" Sara inquired, feigning that her interest was only mild. "Well I must say that I very much enjoy hearing what gossips have to say about me, especially if the rumors are inaccurate. Please do tell, Captain."

  "Ah, well, it wasn't gossips, per se, but rather the report which we were provided." Vidanya paused, watching the Guard disguised as servants retreat from the room. It seemed that he was still somewhat reluctant to speak freely with her. "I presume you have little in the way of contacts in Sporatos proper, Lady Sara?"

  "What information I have is third and fourth hand at best," Sara lied, heading for the table. She thought she picked up on a subtle tension as she approached. After all, In the byzantine politics of Navy Captains, her selection of seating was as good as shouting her intentions for the rest of the meeting. Sara drug it out, speaking as she wandered over. "I've heard the Church of Amarat has begun to cim I'm a traitor to my Patron, for one, which is patently ridiculous. She would have pulled my powers in an instant, and as the battle demonstrated, such hasn't happened."

  "I'm afraid I was a bit occupied for the course of the battle, Lady Sara," Vidanya said, trailing nervously behind her. Though she wasn't looking his way, Amarat's Blessings kept her appraised of the way he was wringing his hands. "A Champion's power is a famous thing, indeed, but we were assured Amarat in particur rarely bestowed her Champions with martial prowess. If it is not too presumptuous, may I ask what abilities you possess?"

  "It's no bother," Sara said with a reassuring wave, using the question as an excuse to halt just before selecting a chair. She cocked her head, considering her options. After a moment, she activated Champion's Inspiration, selecting a peaceful bit of cssical music that she only recalled because it had featured in an episode of Tom and Jerry. Beethoven, maybe?

  The strings came in slowly, filling the dining room with a gentle hum. As she spoke, other instruments began to filter in, adding to the ensemble. "This ability was gifted for the purposes of coordination, Captain Vidanya. Amarat is the Goddess of Connections, and this music pys into that aspect of her Divinity. Those who can hear my music are bolstered and unified, allowing for a grace of coordination ordinarily impossible."

  "Remarkable," Captain Vidanya breathed, and he meant it. His head was tilted, entranced. "The music itself is incredibly elegant, as well. Is it your own composition?"

  "No, no, but I thank you for the fttery. It is the product of a composer in my old world."

  "Well, the beauty of it is extraordinary. Our musicians would have much to learn from it, if our instruments are even capable of reproducing such fine tones. Should you find yourself along the coast of Sporatos in good standings, I must beg that you visit my wife at our estate. She so enjoys the opera and would be delighted to hear such a fine composition."

  Sara winced internally. Damnit. Why'd the rat bastard have to go and be a decent husband? This'd be easier if he was a dickhead through and through.

  Sara forged on, moving to the main event of the evening. She'd ordered the food to be pced in the center of the table, so as not to guide Vidanya towards any seat. With a generous smile, she extended an arm in a welcoming gesture.

  "If ever I find myself with the time to do so, I would gdly visit. Please, Captain Vidanya, take a seat."

  It was a calcuted break of protocol, appropriate for neither the Sporaton or Carrion navies. Vidanya would have expected her, as the host, to sit first, and then position himself accordingly. By inviting him to do so first, she was forcing him to reveal where exactly he thought he stood in retive power to her. Taking a seat at the head of the table would imply that he thought he had the power in the negotiations, leaning upon his authority of being the sole representative of a far rger nation. Sitting to her right would be the absolute opposite, decring himself entirely subservient to her, while sitting to her left would be appropriate for a foreign dignitary, a welcomed if admittedly less important political figure. He could also sit at the other end of the table, opposite the head, and decre that they were equals, undermining her cims of Tulian sovereignty by stating that a mere Captain was her equal, which wouldn't be true if she were a true head of state.

  Sara had been betting that he would sit to her left, the safest option. He did indeed gnce that way at first, swallowing hard, but he was clearly as aware as her about the various implications he might make by selecting the wrong seat. To her surprise, however, he circled around the table, taking the opposite end of the short table.

  So he thinks we're equals. He doesn't support Tulian sovereignty, but has a high enough opinion of me to think I'm worth negotiating with, instead of figuring his kingdom will just steamroll me with Sporatos' superior numbers. Interesting.

  Sara obligingly took her pce at the head of the table, not letting a single drop of her evaluation surface. She gave him a polite smile and reached out for the center ptes, sliding a roast bird towards herself. He returned the smile and began to select his own food, the traditional quiet of the opening stages of a meal giving them both time to reflect. The table had only been built for eight, so the distance between them wasn't extreme.

  Sara did her best to eat properly, basing her behavior off an eclectic mixture of formal dinners with her father's coworkers as a child, Evie's occasional lessons, and Ignite's advice. Any time she noted Vidanya doing something different to her, such as the way he cut his meat into incredibly small bite-sized chunks, she immediately mimicked it, all while maintaining an air of perfect casual civility. She caught no pointed gnces from him through the early stages of the meal, and so assumed she did a decent enough job.

  When their first pte was cleared, it was time to resume conversation. Normally the break would be owed to the chef's preparing of a second course, but the food had been brought out all at once, so the break in eating was observed on tradition alone.

  "So," Sara began, neatly pcing her silverware aside, "we were speaking of how I am viewed in Sporatos. While I hope I have assured you that I am no uncivilized barbarian, nor a traitor to the gods, I must express my concern over the overtly hostile actions you and your fellow captains undertook in Tulian. I understand you were in pursuit of Lady Vesta?"

  "Just so," Vidanya replied, dabbing his cheeks with a napkin. "Our orders were to see out the cost of treason, I'm afraid. I understand you were previously entangled with her, and might hold her fondly in your thoughts, but the w is clear on such things. A noble cannot be allowed to abscond with the wealth of Sporatos."

  "I do understand, of course, and would like to personally assure you that I pyed no role in summoning Lady Vesta here. While you are correct that we have worked well together in the past, I hadn't ever wished her to abandon her station. Such an influential friend at Tulian's northern border is far more valuable than any ill-advised traitor thinking to impnt themselves in my courts, of course. Quite frankly, I am shocked and appalled that she was so short-sighted in her actions, and it has shaken my faith in her."

  "Traitors are never to be trusted," Vidanya agreed with a sharp nod. "You would be wise to keep her at arm's length for however long you keep her in your company, Lady Sara. Of course, the simplest solution would be to return her and yourself to Sporatos proper."

  "While what I will do with Lady Vesta remains to be seen, I must disappoint you with the news that I have no intention of returning to Sporatos."

  "And why is that, Lady Sara?" Vidanya reached for a bottle of wine, pouring himself a gss. "Surely Amarat's Holy Quest does not call for you to muddy yourself in such ignoble circumstances."

  "Her will is difficult to determine at the best of times, Captain. I have thus far followed my heart, and I have received no Divine reproach for my choices. I intend to see Tulian revived, becoming a beacon of progress for the peoples of this world."

  Vidanya leaned forward, growing intense. "But you must know the impossibility of this task, Lady Sara. Do not throw your life away in pursuit of such a hopeless endeavor."

  Sara raised an eyebrow. "'Throw my life away', Captain Vidanya? Do you know something I don't?"

  "If you've truly sources in Sporatos, Lady Sara, it will not be long before word reaches you. King Sporatos has heard word of your attempt at creating a rival kingdom. He has already begun to martial his troops."

  Sara didn't have to feign her surprise. "Surely not. An invasion?"

  Vidanya nodded, looking sickly. "Having met you, Lady Sara, I wish it weren't true. I suppose I may tell you freely, as these things are impossible to hide for long. Sporatos will march this coming spring, intending to have Tulian under provisional rule by the end of the summer. Truly, I implore you to-"

  Sara threw her utensils in the air, smming a fist on the table. "Ah, fucking goddamnit," she swore, causing Vidanya to recoil in shock. She stood, moving to the door. "What a fucking dumbass that dude is, I swear. Why the fuck does he need to invade that soon? Fuck, this is bad."

  Vidanya sat in his chair, eyes wide, stunned. Sara ignored him and flung open the door, poking a head out. "Hey, we're done here. Y'all ready?"

  "Yes, ma'am," one of the Guards replied.

  "Aight, cool. He admitted to owning sves, so you know what to do."

  "Of course."

  Vidanya stood, eyes darting about in confusion. "What is the meaning of this? Lady Sara?"

  She walked back over to him, leaving the door swinging limply on its hinges. She grabbed him by the colr, unsheathing her sword and jabbing it into the small of his back to drive him forward. As she went, she began reciting her memorized lines.

  "Captain Vidanya of the Sporaton Navy, you have confessed to and been found guilty of Participating in a Militant Assault Without a Decration of War, Ensving of Sapient Individuals, and Gross Negligence of Duty to The People. The punishment is to be hanged until death, effective immediately. Have you any st words?"

  She shoved him out into the alleyway beside the house, where the Guards had hung a noose from the eaves. A pair of crates stood below it, just enough for him to reach the noose with his neck. Apparently getting the bance and knot right for a noose was quite difficult, but Sara'd been lucky enough to find a former hangman among the Guards. Sara gripped Vidanya's rolls of flesh and began hauling him up to the boxes as he sputtered.

  "Wha- what is this? You can't- I'm a Lord! What is this, Lady Sara? Have reason! A-a-are you truly mad?"

  Sara pced him on the crates, then crawled up next to him, pcing the noose around his neck. The hangman Guard down below gave her instructions on how to position it, speaking over Vidanya's increasingly desperate pleading.

  "No! No, this is preposterous! An act of war! If you seek diplomacy, th-thi-is! This will-! By the gods!"

  He was so distraught that he failed to even try to take the noose off as Sara hopped down, so convinced was he that this was some eborate ploy.

  Sara cut off the words with a boot to the crates, throwing them out from under him. Captain Vidanya, sveowner, war criminal, and loving husband, had only a moment to gasp. There was a single sickening crack as the noose snapped taut, jerking his neck into a nauseating state of distention, and then it was over.

  "You got a coffin?" Sara asked the sergeant who'd been in charge of the preparations. The same one from earlier, she idly noted.

  "Yes, ma'am, and Evie has prepared the note you wished to be delivered with him. Shall we prepare the body?"

  "That would be perfect, thanks. I've got a lot of work to do back home."

  Sara left the Guard to their work. Vidanya's body was removed from the noose, unceremoniously tossed in the rectangur coffin. One man pced the ultimatum on his chest, then put a nail over the sternum, driving it home with one wet smack of a hammer. With the paper pinned in pce, they began nailing the lid shut, preparing it for Nora to deliver to Port Agrith.

  Sara barely gave it any thought, occupied as she was with her thoughts. She'd been hoping for months now to find a proper general for Tulian's army, but none had arrived. Ignite was only experienced in dealing with small squads in naval actions, and Voth was exceptionally clear that he had no desire to fight a proper Royal Army.

  Sara sighed. She was going to have to pay very, very close attention to Evie's lessons. It looked like Sara was going to be in charge of the army whether she wanted it or not, and she had only months until the Sporaton Army would be gunning for her.