Black Steel: A Tale of Fire and Mind

That morning rung the four hundred and sixty second summer he’d been walking the land. It was his birthday. It was the day no one in Dawnfield, the place he’d made his home, stepped out of their homes not even for work, but kept inside with their families. It was the day before those families went out on the streets and held a grand parade in his name thinking they would appease him. It was the only day he left the confines of Threne Keep and climbed the stone staircase up the mountain to his sanctuary. The summit overlooking the north.

In his prime, when his empire didn’t exist and the Order of Dawnfield would hold their meetings in that very summit, glancing north there had seemed to be no end to the green of the trees on one side and the deep blue of the seas on the other. The first time Lucian had taken him up there to present him to the order, he hadn’t been able to fathom there were vast lands beyond what his eyes could reach.

Not until Lucian had taken him to Volstorm to the east. A province larger than his own, located so high up the mountain range to the east, he’d thought he could touch the sky. Breathing had been difficult and his heart had been beating twice as fast. Lucian’s peers had teased him, but despite it all, every sight he witnessed had caused him awe. It’d been a wonderful time to live.

Until he had come along.

In the present though, gazing north one could find a seeming end in the distance. Only then, the ash and sand replaced the trees. Where there was once sea and luscious ports, rocky hills and cliffs spread across the coastline of old. To the west, there had always stood an unwelcome mountain range, with mines rich in gold and jewels, but the Sluggers had sculpted it into a menacing sight. If he hadn’t known what lay underneath, there would be no city of Ironham. Volstorm to the east had done the same with their string of magnificent cities crawling up their mountains. After evacuating the people, the Scalders had burned and the Sluggers had destroyed.

The order of Dawnfield had terraformed their land and the Isolation had been complete. They had managed to contain the threat, but their land, their people would suffer for it still.

Since the time his mentor had made his choice, Damien spent only that one day in the Order’s summit. His birthday. The day he’d married his wife. The day he’d betrayed her. The day he’d truly lost her. The day his land had changed forever. The one day he allowed himself to feel. To mourn. To be free of everyone’s spirit.

His life had become an endless circle. Wake up. Eat. Sap his servants’ life force. Act out. Sleep. Repeat. He felt a man no longer. He thought himself a beast at times. Mindless. Running on instinct. Then his birthday would come and as he’d sit on the once elegant marble table of the Order, away from people, away from temptation, away from life, the truth would hit him hard. He was no beast.

For savagery wasn’t a beast’s instinct. It was a choice. For beasts were not addicted to power. To Aether. For beast didn’t lock away all their sorrows for every day but one. People, broken people did that. How easy it was to forget.

Two summers in a row, another truth came to light. His life may have become dull, but he could not rest. Aetherals came up. He’d dealt with Lucian. He’d dealt with his kind. After his victory over his mentor, he’d been quick to hush his kind’s existence and any signs of an Aetheral he’d crush as soon as he could.

Yet someone kept escaping his clutches. She wasn’t in the forest his army had razed. She dispatched of his worthless general. She got captured and crippled, yet slipped away under the noses of hundreds of men.

Only an Aetheral could manage such a feat. Even if she couldn’t heal herself, she could’ve manipulated the men to think they didn’t see her. Dozens of his creations, Elementals with no mind of their own, roamed the land in search of a face. A fresh, fine face, weathered down only by battle and circumstances. Not a cripple. Damien was certain the woman was Aetheral. He was also certain the damage the soldiers had done wasn’t enough to stop an Aetheral’s healing touch. They should’ve cut her limbs like he had with Lucian. As he prepared his drink, he realized there would be time to ponder about the fleeing woman the following morning. He pushed her to the back of his mind.

The day was his moment of solace. He sat at the center of the marble table, his waterskin in his hands. In it was a concoction of boiled common reed gathered from the banks of river Herbfall and the blue leaves from a lotus flower he had people grow in his own keep. He never came to the summit without that foul beverage. He started drinking.

In his teachings, Lucian would jest, saying the recipe for that particular elixir was older than time itself and a great secret among their kind. Later in life, Damien found out it was another exaggeration of his mentor, aiming to awe the young lad. Combined, the two ingredients made other kind of Elementals and Pures calm, and often caused vivid hallucinations.

But when it came to Aetherals, in small doses it aided them achieve serenity and their visions weren’t truly hallucinations. They were their gifts made visible, allowing trained Aetherals teach the younglings. Scalders could show their trainees what they were influencing the flames do, but without the brew, Somnium they once called it, Aetherals had difficulty doing the same with spirit.

But he never drank small doses. He would finish the entire waterskin on his birthday. Somnium was starting to affect him. He kept drinking. The world around him began to shift. He didn’t stop gulping down.

She finally appeared.

He smiled. “Too long.” She smiled back at him but said nothing. “Ahh…my dear wife, how I miss you…”

“I think we can all agree Keira and Seraphina have to stay out of the city. We may need their skills, but without a doubt, their faces pose a red flag in Ironham.” Barkley said starting their meeting. Many nodded. Elders, the commanders of Mountmend, Brenton.

But the roamers present, especially the Elementals, stood frowning. Seraphina raised her hand and spoke when Brenton nodded. “Is that a bad thing? The soldiers going crazy, I mean. Too many of the empire’s loyalists are in there, so there’s no turning Ironham.” Seeing no opposition, she walked to the center of the room, standing in front of Barkley. “We’ll need to dispatch them all, one by one, right? Kill most. Imprison many. Why not use their fear of Keira and urgency to capture me against them?”

“We did it in the plains of Briohall. Even out in the open they were quite disoriented.” Reggie backed her up. “We lost eight, but forty-two survived. And unless I missed something, I believe the losses were the Basher’s kills. Have master Kai and Acilia evacuate as many as they can and our people can do the rest.”

“After your... rescue of Keira, reports say that they have sentries along the city wall with orders to shoot anyone approaching the wall directly, not going to the gate. At night they have a ring of outposts to light a perimeter and when one torch burns out, they sent armed squads to check. They search every man, woman or child who wishes to enter Ironham. The carriages as well. Sneaking Seraphina and Keira will be impossible. What happens when they see the women and they barricade themselves inside? All element of surprise gone?” One man asked. Seraphina barely remembered seeing him the last time she was in the Grove. His frail body and thinning grey hair suggested he was among the eldest in the room. Dark spots of old age and hardship covered the skin on his hands, possibly the rest of his body.

He raised a strong argument, but Seraphina noticed Reggie had an answer to that as well. “To barricade themselves, they’ll need those iron gates in the citadel to come down. We can sabotage them. Our people go in, we sabotage the gates and when we are sure, we put Sera and Keira in play. Either they’ll try to attack them or retreat to the citadel. We’ll be prepared for both.”

Brenton was skeptical. “How do you propose we sabotage the mechanism, though? From the outside too?”

Reggie smiled. “I have a few ideas, but to confirm they can do it, we’ll have to talk to the Bashers.”

“Let us send for the bashers and reconvene this meeting when they are present. In the meantime, prepare for transport and just in case the Bashers can’t do it, we should all think of alternative plans. How does that sound? We can then…” Barkley was saying, but Seraphina was already out of the door.

Reggie joined her and together, they walked to their family’s home in the Grove. “Wanna go for a run?”

Seraphina nodded. “Might need to feed Chloe first.” She said rubbing her chest. “You better not be laughing.”

“Of course not.” He replied, but she could already hear him clear his throat.

When they entered the house, they watched as Mirabelle and Lyn sat on the floor, playing with Chloe and her toys. Wooden carvings of animals and sewn dolls were among them, but Chloe’s favourite was Raine, who stood right in front of her, fetching the ball she’d thrown earlier.

Upon seeing them, the wolfess let the ball drop and went to lay behind the babe. The sudden change in her made Chloe unease and she started searching for the cause, until she set her eyes on a smiling Seraphina and went on to clap excitedly instead.

Seraphina knelt in front of her and gave her head a long kiss that didn’t go unnoticed by either Mirabelle or Lyn. “You’re already leaving…” Mirabelle said and Seraphina could feel tears forming in her eyes. Tears she didn’t want her daughter to see and thus, she made her face Reggie.

In a much more composed state, he started making faces at Chloe, entertaining her, before he spoke. “Soon. A few days, maybe more. Depends on the bashers in Boatwright.”

“Only days with her…” Lyn trailer off. There was a sympathetic tone to her voice, one that made it impossible for Seraphina to look at her. She’d had no choice in their separation. Seraphina was choosing it. “I pray to the elements she won’t have to endure what you did.”

Seraphina was just in time to wipe her shed tears, as Chloe turned back and toucher her chest. “Thought as much.” She mumbled and tickled the child, but she was too hungry to get distracted by her mother’s antics. Seraphina shook her head and conceded. “Reggie, could you…?” Knowing what she wanted, he nodded and she picked up Chloe. She sat in her usual feeding spot, a comfortable armchair Griffin had built for her days after she’d given birth, and unbuttoned her shirt. It took Chloe mere moments to latch on. “Sweetheart?”

Reggie shook off his grin and cleared his throat. “Right, sorry.” He looked at Mirabelle and Lyn. “Everyone agreed to march to Mountmend, get reinforcements and continue to Ironham. We’ll take the city then move to Larcbust.”

“Larcbust? Why go there? There’s barely anything there” Lyn asked in regard to their birthplace.

“It’s no longer what you remember. There are mines, sure, but it’s more than a military camp now. I did most of my training there.” Reggie replied.

“Headquarters of sort? Like the Grove?” Mirabelle asked. Reggie and Seraphina nodded. “There generals are there? And the strategists?”

Mirabelle had been the wife of a councilman, a strategist himself, for thirty winters. And Barkley was a man that shared everything with his wife. She could deduct the council’s plans, even with that little information. “You’re taking out the brains…”

“True, but our main goal is to eliminate people that know about and therefore can use the trapped Elementals.” Reggie said and Seraphina shivered not because of Chloe’s sucking. She couldn’t help remembering how efficient Reggie’s plan in the plains of Briohall had been. Only two Elementals had been present then. With more, trained forces might’ve avoided all casualties. In Briohall, the only casualties had been malnourished farmers who took up arms. “The larger part of the army stays there too, so we’ll reduce their numbers, which will help in the long run.”

“It’s reasonable…” Mirabelle said with a sigh. She could agree to the logic, but while she’d long come to terms with the twins would stay in the fight till they could hold a sword no more, it still troubled her.

“It’s dangerous.” Since seeing them, when it came to her children, Lyn could no longer think as the Keeper of Madfalls Refuge. They were her children. The children she’d thought she’d already lost to the empire. Her own flesh and blood. Not simply her proteges. She wanted to keep them away from all action, like she’d done with Griffin all his life.

Switching Chloe sides, Seraphina looked at Lyn. “Mom, we’ve always kept Shepherd affairs out of the house, but time is limited. Think as the Keeper of Madfalls, not as my mother. We are outnumbered. The majority undertrained. Our people need every able man and woman. Especially people like me. Like Reggie. Dad, uncle Barkley. We’ve spent years honing our skills. We are tools our people need in this fight.”

“You forget Vivienne.” Mirabelle added.

Seraphina shook her head. “No, I don’t. Viv is an entirely different matter. She’s no tool. She’s the foundation we build our hopes of success.”

“Which is why we would like to ask you something. Again, as Keeper of Madfalls.” Reggie interrupted. “In the nightmarish scenario that something happens to Vivienne, another must help counter Damien. An Aetheral. And the only one we know of is Roderick and a man incapable of helping.”

“Unless you know of more…” Seraphina added gauzing her mother’s reaction. “…if not, it’s best that he gets trained. The council was hoping you could convince him to travel to Briohall.”

“And we were hoping you would take Chloe and join him. Where you’ll be safest.” Reggie concluded.

Mirabelle and Lyn had been listening to them with a straight face the whole time. Once they noticed Reggie had finished, Mirabelle frowned and Lyn started pacing. Her pacing brought her at Seraphina’s knees. “Do you know what you’re asking of me?”

Seraphina didn’t miss a heartbeat. “Keep my daughter safe and loved till we come back to her.”

“We’ve already talked. We’ll do it.” Mirabelle said, touching Seraphina’s knee and Lyn’s back. Seraphina must’ve looked surprised because the following moment, her aunt erupted in laughter. “My husband talks things through with me and I raised you. I know what to expect. More or less…”

◊◊◊

A short time after they put Chloe down for her nap, Seraphina and Reggie changed and followed the trail out of the barricade, Raine in tow. Everyone they passed by nodded their heads in respect, while one or two even took a quick bow. Seraphina had earned the respect of the Shepherds early on in her life as a roamer. By the age of twenty-one, she and Maxwell had completed over twenty assignments and rescued numerous refugees. Many of them resided in the Grove. The more years rolled by, the more that respect multiplied.

But seeing such esteem in the eyes of rebels when they looked at a former soldier of the very empire they loathed was a surprise. A pleasant one for he was her husband, but a surprise nonetheless. One thing the Shepherds never had been, was forgiving. Some, like Seraphina and Brenton, acted first and asked questions later. Others, like Maxwell and the rest of their family, gathered information and provided justification for their executions. Either way, nine times out of ten, the imperial would die. Reggie was that one who lived.

They spared him, giving him a chance to prove his claims, because he helped Seraphina in her time of need, when her situation was most dire. He earned the League’s respect by helping the people against his former peers. In Hollow Grove, tales of his, and all others’, actions spread. In Calcheth. Briohall. Ironham. Boatwright. The tales spread to provide motivation and lift the spirits of the rebels, but at the same time let everyone know of the ones who put their lives on the line. Reggie. Vivienne. Maxwell. Seraphina. Keira. Darius. Many others. The ones not so well known within the Shepherds inadvertently received praise and recognition.

They reached the gates after the Grovers stopped them several times for greetings. The walk took them twice as much time. But once they stepped out of the gates, all niceties disappeared as they set off running.

Seraphina was normally faster than most, but she had yet to cover the lost ground brought by her pregnancy with Chloe and time with her. Training in combat and keeping themselves fit was something they’d been doing all their adult life. As a result, they could spare the time for Chloe. Both she and Reggie had opted to spend their every moment with their daughter, aware they’d soon part with her. But there were moments, very few since her birth, when they left her side and let off some steam. Running through the woods.

“The usual?” Seraphina asked as she did some stretching.

Reggie shook his head. “I’d rather not. The hunters are out, they could mistake us for trespassers in this fog.”

Seraphina agreed and set off on the trail surrounding the Grove. They kept their pace up, as if their life depended on it. Raine soon passed them and brought a sudden gust of wind with her. While they focused on the disappearing shape of the wolfess, their surroundings whished by them, but they kept pushing on, trying to reach her.

Two or three laps around the settlement, Seraphina couldn’t be sure, her lungs gave out on the chase, proving Raine too fast for her, but Reggie ran still. Seraphina continued the pursuit walking and a stretch later, she came upon a knelt Reggie, breathing heavily.

“I…keep thinking we can…outrun her.” Reggie rasped when she reached him.

“Maybe. Once she’s an old, old wolf. And she gets a limp.” Seraphina said chuckling and rubbed his back to help him calm. “Are you okay, old man?”

He nodded. “A tad winded.”

“Ohh, you don’t say…” she teased kissing the back of his head. “I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?”

“I could use a break.” Reggie replied standing. “Think she’s waiting for us long?”

“Probably.” She confirmed wrapping an arm around his waist. No longer in any hurry or unspent tension, they strolled back towards the gates of the Grove where they found Raine laying on the grass, head on her crossed paws. In front of her, Braun and Cloud clipped at each other’s heels while Griffin was sitting next to her, chewing on his apple again and again, more than he needed to. His hunting gear all packed up behind him, clean as a whistle.

“Enjoying your one-on-one time?” Griffin smirked at them standing up.

“A little. Running’s refreshing, even better in company.” Seraphina replied rubbing Reggie’s chest before she escaped his hold and examined Griffin’s equipment. “No game?”

Griffin threw away the apple core and clapped his hands to get the wolves’ attention. “Nope. The fog’s too thick in the woods. We can’t hunt what we can’t see.”

“The traps?” Reggie asked, kneeling by Raine’s side, and scratched her ear. Braun and Cloud went to him as well.

“Most were snapped, but not all. We took the catches. Rabbits mostly.” Griffin replied rather scrunching his face. “They finally let me join the hunt and I still see no action.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing…” Reggie trailed off standing.

“Of course it is! I don’t get any practice! How can I prove myself?” He snapped back. “You think I don't see the looks? I’m a coward in a family of fighters.” He stomped away a couple of paces.

Seraphina glanced at Reggie and he got the hint in a heartbeat. He laid a kiss on her shoulder and started walking to the settlement. On the way, he snapped his fingers and the three wolves followed him.

Alone with her youngest brother. In the little time she knew about him, it hadn’t happened before. They were family, but take that away and in reality, they were strangers. They didn’t know each other’s strengths. The weaknesses. The insecurities. They didn’t know how to comfort each other.

But they tried. When he felt exasperated because their mother tried to keep him so busy he couldn’t try the sparring grounds, she was the one to talk things through with Lyn. It took a while, but in time, he joined Reggie in the training house and started training a little. When Maxwell and Vivienne left and she felt betrayed, he did the only thing he knew how. He carved things for her. The crib Chole lied in every night, the armchair she used for her feedings, the numerous toys Chloe played with.

It was high-time they talk directly.

She walked over to him humming to herself, until she was standing next to him. “Coward? If anyone saw you scream in my face like that, they’d reconsider.” He glared at her, but it only served to make her laugh. “I’m serious. Some are afraid to even talk to me.” She said crossing her arms. “What was your childhood like, Griffin? Your every-day activities?”

“Dull.” He said. “Books. Woodcarving. Meetings with lots of sitting by mother’s skirts. She never wanted to lose sight of me, really.” He huffed. “Other kids would run around the fields, playing, wrestling, dreaming of growing up to fight against the bad people our parents feared.” He grabbed a rock and threw it towards the fields. “You know, I never had a wooden weapon, not even a staff, because she took them all away. I was always left watching as the boys picked sides and feigned battle. There was no action for me. Not like you and Max.” He kicked at the peddles at his feet.

“Yet, that’s the life I strive to offer my daughter. The exact opposite of mine. What Max always longed for.” She said and went to sit on the grass. She hugged her legs close and placed her head on her knees. “Come on, sit with me.” She waited until he settled down. “Griffin, do you sleep at night?”

He huffed again, annoyed. “I guess. Unless there’s something to do.”

“I don’t. Not much anyway.” She rubbed her arms to hide the goosebumps. “When my racing mind doesn’t keep me awake, the people whose lives I cut short visit me in my sleep. I don’t scream, but I thrash in my sleep. I may try to forget, but the guilt gnaws so deep in me that my sleeping mind terrorizes me…”

“Seraphina…” He tried cutting her off, but she wouldn’t have it.

“Stop, you have to hear this.” She said and looked at him. “When it dawned on me that we lost mom, dreams of her getting beaten and murdered plagued my mind, because I felt responsible. She used her Elemental nature just to lift my spirits after all.”

“That wasn’t your fault though.” He said rubbing her back.

She didn’t list the people who’d tried time and time again to convince her without a trace of success. She didn’t need to. She only gave a weak smile. “The nightmares made me feel even more powerless than I was. At a loss of control. Broken. Like dad. Like Max. Do you know what happened then?”

Whatever fervor he’d showed before had extinguished. Seraphina couldn’t help comparing him to a sheepish pup, ears down and tail tucked under his legs, clinging to her words. “You decided to take action?”

“No, I was five.” She chuckled, causing him to give an awkward laugh. “Dad did. And it changed him. No more gloom. No more tears when he thought we weren’t looking.” She ran her hands through her hair, too slick from sweat. “Once he became a roamer, he grew serious, distant, but my young self perceived it as... strength.”

“Of course. He gained control of his life. He chose to offer his services to the people he wanted to protect.” Griffin tried to defend their father. “He even convinced you to join, didn’t he?”

“Actually…” She said shaking her head. “…once he realized Max, our cousin Emmery and I decided to join, he did everything in his power to dissuade us, to block us, but our results and Elemental abilities couldn’t justify the council letting us go. Determination can do wonders, you see.”

“Stubbornness, you mean.” He scratched at his ear and swatted away some bees that started gathering around them.

Seraphina rolled her eyes. “You could say that, I guess. It made me train more than most kids because it gave me a sense of control. The nightmares soon became nuisances because I was growing tougher, more capable.”

“That’s exactly why I wanna fight.” Griffin insisted.

But Seraphina had more to share. She resumed her telling, disregarding his comment. “Then came my first job. And the next. And the one after that. The thrill was so great I was free of thoughts and dreams that had held me down for years.” She got up and stretched. “Do you know how long it lasted?”

“Not long?” He asked.

She shook her head without looking at him. “Not at all. It took a single kill. It was no job, no assassination. We were on a job, we were supposed to help get some people to safety. The night before we left the village, I’d gone on a run and some lowlife attacked me, thinking me helpless, but my instincts kicked in, a lifetime of training, and before I realized it, I took his life.” She turned to him. “You want to fight, but, Griffin, you can’t. You’ll be like a pig sent for slaughter, like my attacker. Mom and dad can’t risk that. Neither can I.”

He was silent for a while, but she could see he was thinking hard what to say next, how to approach her. It reminded her of Maxwell whenever he was studying new information. Suddenly his face lit up. “You said Vivienne was just a kitchen girl when you met her. So, you have let others choose their fate. Why not me?”

“Clever argument, kid, but not flawless.” She thought and smiled. “We met Viv during a peaceful time, more or less. Three cycles ago. There was no impending war and battle ahead. We had the time to train her and we kept training till they left. There’s no such luxury in your case. Letting you join us in fighting now, against lifelong militia, is a death sentence.”

“You don’t understand…” His head fell, defeated. “I just want to be like you. Brave. Efficient. Worthy of admiration.”

“There are other ways to achieve that. Mom never went down the path of the warrior. Although…” Seraphina noted and nudged him. “…from what I remember she’s good with the broomstick. Max and I would set off running whenever she reached for it.” She said and they both laughed.

In between laughs, he spoke. “It doesn’t matter you made me laugh, Seraphina. I still want to prove myself. To you and to father.”

Seeing there was no stopping him, there was only one thing she could do. “Come on then.” She said and started walking back to the settlement, not looking back to see if he was following. She knew he was, because she could hear his footsteps, heavy on the dirt, catching up to her. “First thing you need to correct. Don’t step so hard. I could hear you paces away.”

“Noted.” He said as he came in step with her. “Where are we going?”

“I can’t change your mind and I don’t want you getting killed, so I’ll train you.” She said shaking her head. “I’ll show you why I can’t have you running off to prove yourself.”

“Our parents don’t consent…” he started saying, but she cut him off.

“Well, as you said, stubbornness runs in the family and as my brother, I can’t count on you being a good boy and stay away from the action.” She said chuckling. “Since I can’t take the chance, I’ll try to equip you with some skills.” She picked up the pace.

They found Reggie waiting for them by the gates of the encampment. He looked into Seraphina’s eyes and sighed so loud the watchers turned their heads their way. “Let me guess, we’re not going to sleep…?”

◊◊◊

They didn’t. They went straight to the training grounds and Griffin quickly realized how right Seraphina had been. The few who’d sparred with him never had any intention to hurt him. Really hurt. His parentage hadn’t allowed it. But Seraphina had every intention. That day, without breaking much sweat, both Seraphina and Reggie had given him a small taste of how vulnerable he actually was. Bruises gave colour to his ribcage. Reggie was the artist. Cuts decorated his neck and thighs. Seraphina’s favourite blade was the chisel. Lyn was horrified when she laid eyes on him, Brenton chastised them, but their stubborn children did what they wanted regardless and eventually they accepted Griffin’s training. During the march to Ironham, whenever Chloe was asleep, Seraphina personally oversaw his training.

Once the Bashers returned from Boatwright and confirmed Reggie’s plan was doable, they gathered their forces and the march began. In the three fortnights it took them to reach the edges of the realm of Ironham, more time than when they were only ten riders, Griffin became slenderer, his muscles more defined. He was no longer plump, but able. He no longer needed to use both his hands to hold a sword up. He could swing it longer. He could hold it up and deflect more of his sparring partner’s strikes. He didn’t get as bruised. The crash course proved effective, but he was still a long way out before he could fight in battle. At least he could protect himself, if need be. Or so Seraphina kept telling herself.

Upon reaching Ironham, most spread along the edge of the forest to watch from afar and wait for the reinforcements from Mountmend, a few went into the city to confer with Acilia and her father, and Seraphina camped with her family in the northern corner of the forest. Where she would soon part with her daughter. Her mother. Her aunt. Her brother. The ones who would continue on, to Madfalls Refuge and Briohall.

The night before the depart, Brenton gathered them all around the fire. Even young Chloe was wide awake and tense, as if she knew something was going to happen. They ate. They drank. They talked and laughed. Desperate to ignore the following night would find them away from one another. Brenton chose the moment before they retired for the night to announce what they all secretly knew. He would follow his wife to Briohall. Seraphina was relieved. He hadn't been at peak health since the fire in Bandville, she’d seen it. The coughs, the chills. He shouldn’t stay and fight. Seraphina was also glad because there would be another dedicated protector for her family in Briohall.

They bid each other a good night, and each went into their tents for a few moments of privacy. Seraphina and Reggie put their sleeping daughter between them, and simply watched her throughout the night. They wished to squeeze every moment of their remaining time. They didn’t want to miss a single thing from her life, but to give her a life of freedom, they needed to let her go, strip themselves of parenthood and throw themselves into battle. The sooner they were done with the empire, the sooner they might return to her.

The eerie sunrise found them all meeting with tears in their eyes. Barkley had Mirabelle wrapped around in his trembling arms. Reggie had his around Seraphina who held a still asleep Chloe. Brenton and Griffin were loading the horses. Lyn was staring them all. When it was time, Seraphina handed Chloe to Reggie and dragged her last steps till she reached her mother. “Found you once, I’ll do it again.” She whispered in her ear as she buried herself her mother’s embrace.

“I know…” She replied and squeezed. “I’ll take care of them. I promise.” Seraphina nodded and felt Brenton hug both of them. He didn’t need to speak. He was a man of few words, but she could understand everything his actions conveyed.

Letting go of her parents took her to her youngest brother’s arms. Tired, weary, though he was, he held on for dear life. “Bring yourselves back in one piece. Max and Viv too. I can wait.”

She laughed. He often had that effect on her. “I’ll try, but they’ve been without me for a while now.” He gave a half laugh as well. It didn’t reach his ears, nor could one hear him from afar. No true amusement. Just filling the silence.

Last was her aunt Mirabelle. The woman who raised her. The one she put through hell in her youth. The one who lost a son because of her and not once spoke ill of her. The one who always had her arms open and waiting to provide safety and comfort. The woman who agreed to bear the burden of keeping her daughter safe before she ever asked.

Seraphina stepped in front of her and could only smile. Mirabelle did too. Just like they used to do in Bandville when the council would send the twins on assignments after Emmery passed. “You know what to do?” She asked and Seraphina nodded. “How to do it?”

“More or less.” She replied in their almost ritualistic manner. “There might be a few surprises down the road, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good.” She breathed and pulled her in a crushing embrace. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, my sweet…” Seraphina shook her head. “…and remember, one. You’re one. One team…”

“One family.” Seraphina finished. “I won’t be so hard on him when I find him, promise.” Mirabelle pulled back and smiled before kissing her forehead and stepped back, towards the horses.

Reggie came to stand next to Seraphina, holding their daughter. Seraphina suppressed the sniffle and reached for Chloe, still deep in her sleep. They had her covered head to toe, careful she caught no cold, only her little face in sight. A short, blonde tuft had escaped the cloth and was stuck on her forehead. Seraphina slid the light strand under the blanket and, shaking, she touched her lips to Chloe’s forehead for a long moment.

Like her father had done earlier, she felt Reggie wrap his arms around his own wife and daughter in silence. Likewise, parents and daughter would go their separate ways. The difference was Chloe would stay safe and innocent, while Seraphina would embark on a quest that wrought death and bulged with danger.

“Auntie?” Seraphina whispered still holding on the moment. Mirabelle nodded and placed her open arms under Seraphina’s, ready to receive the infant. With a heavy heart, but knowing there was no other way to keep her safe, Seraphina lowered Chloe onto Mirabelle’s arms and enclosed herself in Reggie’s tight grip, but couldn’t look away. Not with Chloe still at arm’s length. “Go. Please, go.”

Mirabelle nodded again and turned around. Barkley helped her mount her horse and walked back to Reggie and Seraphina. Together, they stood watching while their family rode away in the daybreak, Cloud and Brawn by Griffin's horse. Stride by stride, their distance grew until they could no longer see them through the trees. Seraphina could feel herself breaking apart, pieces of her, the humane ones, flowing after her loved ones, while all the rest remained behind.

The foul. The useful. She could feel it. The merciless assassin the Shepherds raised her to be was returning to the surface. Barkley’s pitiful glance showed he saw it right away. Reggie’s faint touch revealed he noticed the shift as well. He let her go and they started walking back to the Shepherds’ camp.

Barkley took them to the tent their other strategists gather. Seraphina was surprised to see Acilia among them, thinking she wouldn’t leave the city to her father’s watch anymore. The two women acknowledged each other with a respectful nod, before Seraphina took her position with Reggie and Barkley.

Councilwoman Quinn, a former roamer and well respected in that part of the land, knocked on the table to get everyone’s attention. “Now we’re all here, let us begin.”

When Axel and Vivienne had returned to the guild of Wallowdale and reported their findings, Lydia had ordered a full report be sent to Mountmend and Hollow Grove and had prepared herself and her advisors to meet Viscount Wilfried and his Douser wife, Olivie. Before the sun had risen in the east, they were ready and slipped through the gates of the hall, undetected by prying eyes.

Vivienne and Maxwell had taken no part in the talks, for their job led elsewhere, away from politics and negotiations. They’d gone to Wallowdale to take the city through any means. Little had it mattered whether peaceful or murderous. They’d simply needed to consolidate the League’s presence in the city and, thanks to Vivienne, they’d done it by persuading the local lords to conform with the League.

Once Lydia and her entourage had come back from their talks, they incorporated their successful results to the report they’d send to the rest of the League. Vivienne and Maxwell had taken a copy and ridden on, towards Ashbourne.

In their latest travels, where urgency ruled their days and unrest plagued their minds, they’d neglected to take in the surrounding scenery. The images whisked by, leaving no memory of them behind, as the pair kept going and going. The realization struck Vivienne when they reached the Gray Peak, the hill overlooking the valley of Ashbourne. The familiarity of her childhood home, at least the only one she could remember, gave her pause.

Vivienne remembered her old longing to see what lied beyond the city walls and as they descended the hill, she took in everything her eyes laid upon, satisfying her old curiosity. When they broke out of the forest and into the farming fields, she couldn’t help shaking her head.

A gesture Maxwell didn’t leave unnoticed. “Something wrong?”

“Everything?” She teased and he frowned. “It’s just that the closer we come to the city, the more it all reminds me how silly I was and how ludicrous my problems used to be.”

Maxwell gave a booming laugh. “Why, ma’am? Isn’t cooking the food of the Ashbourners as important as slaying the land’s ruler? While evading his minions? And not getting killed by his touch? My, oh my, what will Madam Jean think?”

It made both of them laugh harder and their horses uneasy. When they’d composed themselves, Vivienne glanced at the city. “It’s all so different. Same, but so different.”

“The city’s the same. You’re the one that’s changed.” Maxwell corrected her and placed his hand in hers. “For the better I might add.”

She smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze before returning it to the bridle. “I hope Michael and Madam Jean think so as well. Race you to the city?” She didn’t wait for his answer. She urged her horse forward laughing.

Riding through the fields, she came upon faces she’d once been seeing on a daily basis, even though they were living outside the city walls. Fin, the man from whom she always bought vegetables for the tavern. Old Leila, a widow who hadn’t let her husband’s passing affect her joyous view of life and had managed to keep their ranch afloat with her sons and daughters. She’d always keep some meat and eggs for Vivienne even when she’d come late to the market. Lambert, the woodcutter’s son she’d had a crush growing up, and his family. How devastated she had been when she found out he had married.

Some recognized her right away, others it took longer, but everyone was the same. They smiled and waved at her in excitement. Despite her best efforts to stay focused on the task at hand, Vivienne couldn’t help feeling the same way and made quite a few stops on her way to the gates.

If Maxwell had been serious about the race, he would’ve won easily, but he stuck by her side. Whenever she got off her horse to greet some old friend, she’d catch him staring and grinning at the sight. With her inner ears wide open in case of danger, she noticed the bitter joy and longing he felt, wishing they could have that same normalcy sooner, rather than later in their life. With a family of their own. She wanted it too, but always pushed it to the back of her mind. They had work to do first.

As they were approaching the ashen high gates, even from afar, they could see there was a checkpoint waiting them. It made Vivienne immediately pull back into herself, to limit the risk of recognition. With no Aether to guide them then, she and Maxwell used their own eyes and ears from then on. They could see the guards collected no tolls and instead had a drawing in their hands, comparing it to every person that wanted to come in. The pair didn’t need to look at the drawing to know who it pictured.

“Good thing we left her behind.” Maxwell whispered to Vivienne and she nodded. “No sun insignia. The Drudge must’ve moved on.”

“Shh, you never know.” Vivienne said, Seraphina’s training kicking in. “Go with what you know, not what you assume.”

They fell in line with everyone else and took off their hoods. They wanted to avoid having the guards show any more interest than they had to. Once it was their turn for inspection, thanks to his build, the guards passed Maxwell by quickly and without trouble, but they lingered on Vivienne longer. Her height was close to Seraphina’s, she was similarly built, yet a tad fuller on the cleavage until her pregnancy. But the differences were many. Vivienne was a redhead and kept a shoulder-length cut, Seraphina’s hair was pitch black and preferred a pixie do so there were no obstructions to her eyes. Vivienne had few scars, most on her arms and legs, while Seraphina was covered in them. The most noticeable was the one on her face, a slash starting next to her right eyebrow and going down to her cheek to her jawline.

It was the first feature they tried to find in Vivienne, but they didn’t stop there. The word was out that if the woman the emperor sought didn’t limp, she would at least sport evidence of a healed knee injury. They asked her to lift up both of her pant legs and only when they didn’t find anything there, did they allow her to join Maxwell.

They didn’t dare discuss the incident and carried on swiftly to the Sweet Ale, Vivienne’s former home. They found there were great improvements to the building, Another floor, there were stables for the travelers’ horses, new paint and the kitchen seemed larger. They could’ve used the front entrance but opted to use the back door to avoid possible encounter with Ashbourne guards.

“Should we knock?” Maxwell asked when they’d tied their horses.

“At this hour? They’ll be too busy with the cooking to hear us.” Vivienne replied, knowing well how Madam Jean was during the afternoon when all workers would take their lunch break. “I have an idea.”

With that, she started reading the tavern. Little by little, until she reached the minds of Michael and Madam Jean. Both were quite surprised and started looking for her. Madam Jean left it all behind and exited the kitchen, looking at the faces of the tavern patrons. Michael was in his office and searched with his eyes. “Where are you, little one?” He thought to her and got up from his chair.

“Max, throw a rock at Michael’s office. Fourth window from the left.” Vivienne said and Maxwell obliged.

It took him four tries to get the window, but it caught Michael’s attention. He cocked his head out the window and found Vivienne waving at him. “Be there in a moment.” He said to them and true enough, a short while later, he and Madam Jean opened the door. Madam Jean ran up to her and threw her arms around her, tears in both hers and Vivienne’s eyes. Michael was close behind. “Come, get in.”

They went inside and after Madam Jean barked some orders to her scullions, they went up to the safety and privacy of Michael’s office. Madam Jean wouldn’t let her out of her arms and so they sat together on one sofa while Michael took a seat in his chair and Maxwell remained vigilant, standing close to the window and stared outside.

They tried asking her about why she’d come, but before they continued with the League’s business, Vivienne needed first to know how the people who raised her after her mother’s death fared after being three winters away. “I’ll tell you everything, but later. Tell me, how are you? Madam, your back? Still hurts?”

Madam Jean shook her head and touched Vivienne’s face. “Not any more than it should. Can’t fight old age, Vivi.” It was Vivienne’s turn to shake her head and touch Madam Jean. She was right. Even Aether couldn’t reverse time’s effect. Delay it, maybe, had Lucian taught her how, but not reverse it. She still tried to relieve some of the pain and Madam Jean noticed right away. “Is that you? Like the mind reading?”

Vivienne nodded and hugged her tighter. The fact they’d known and concealed her still warmed her heart. “Yes. Turns out I’m an Elemental too, a kind the Emperor fears and always seeks to destroy.”

“He thinks Seraphina’s one, then? That’s why the guards search for her in a frenzy?” Michael guessed and Vivienne nodded again. “Please tell me she wasn’t foolish enough to come here.”

“She would be, if we hadn’t left her behind.” Vivienne replied and noticed Maxwell cross his arms. It was a decision they still hated, despite the necessity. Michael’s eyebrow shot up and he scrunched. Before he started asking questions, Vivienne stopped him. “I’ll get there, but first let me start from when I left the city…”

◊◊◊

The League of Shepherds disclosed all their major endeavours to their peers, but kept some key pieces of information concealed to protect their agents, so while Michael and Madam Jean had been aware of some events Vivienne had described, they had no clue Vivienne was caught in the middle of it all. Neither seemed pleased she was in such danger, but the glint in their eyes and the small smiles they couldn’t help suggested they were even a tiny bit proud of her. It wasn’t until that moment that Vivienne realized how much their opinion mattered to her. The only people left in the world who cared for her after she’d lost her mother. Before she got dragged into the underlying world of Elementals and the Shepherds. And all that without seeking anything in return.

When she’d finished her tale, Michael went on to explain what the situation in Ashbourne was like. She and Maxwell had already read last winter’s reports on their way there and the Wallodalers informed them of the additional details, but they listened with interest. Reports etched on paper held the facts, but people’s telling laced with their personal point of view gave a unique glimpse into a situation.

No written account could depict the change Michael had undergone through. There were traces of the man Vivienne had known, always calm and measured, his moves calculated well before he ever made them, but he became more and more agitated and off balance, the more he talked about Lombard’s betrayal of the Shepherds to protect his son. A son, a disgrace to the League, who’d sold out his kin and had been responsible for at least two accounts of discoveries and subsequent deaths. Albero and the boy he’d recruited all that time ago, before the twins even returned to Bandville from Boatwright.

Although not a part of the League at the time, Michael couldn’t phantom how Lombard could have acted that way. He could understand the man’s son, born and bred in Ashbourne, away from the everlasting hunt and terror the empire brought to their people, had been misguided by promises and possibly riches, but not Lombard. He couldn’t.

Maxwell and Vivienne let Michael recount in full length and great detail how he’d explained everything to the next roamer who’d passed through the city and showed her the report the twins had left behind, before the roamer had gone on to see through the young man’s elimination. It’d taken two fortnights, during which both Michael and Madam Jean had been quite anxious, but no danger had come to any life of the Shepherds. The roamer, Hattie was her name, had been quick to kill the young man. Within a few days after her arrival, she’d come to Michael with news he posed a threat no longer and they worked together to reestablish the guild and its operations from Michael’s tavern. The twins had wiped away anything important in the butcher shop, but she hadn’t wanted to take any chances and set alight the entire building. Just to be safe. Then she’d given him three purses full of the traitor’s gold to expand his tavern. Though he hadn’t really needed it as the tavern provided a good income, he’d welcomed her gesture and made more improvements than she’d asked for.

Michael had asked no questions about how she’d taken out the young man, but Vivienne and Maxwell already knew. Hattie was an intimidating and formidable woman and one of the roamers who’d given them as much information as they could while they’d been preparing to leave Hollow Grove. Her rundown included her night with the young man. The torture she’d put him through had been a nauseating, unspeakable, tale but she got out everything he knew about the Shepherds, very little though it was and thankfully of no great importance. Apart from Albero and his new recruit, his only true victim was his father. A great asset to the cause, lost away because of a father’s love for an undeserving child.

With her work done, Hattie had moved on, returned to Bandville and the southern council, just before the massacre, had sent a new family in the place of Lombard, to take over the Ashbourne guild, temporarily housed in the Sweet Ale. When news of Bandville’s fall had reached the city, the family sent to watch over Ashbourne had proved insufficient, a bunch of cowards, and gone into hiding as fast as their legs could take them.

Michael and Madam Jean had been the ones to step up and take on the role. Until roamers from Embersummit tasked with telling the south about the new state of the League, no longer separated in three divisions, but united as one, they’d pull aside anyone they remembered hanging in Lombard’s butcher shop. Once they’d determine they were with the League, they’d urge them to spread news to their peers. Ashbourne still housed a safe harbor for them.

A safe harbor Maxwell and Vivienne used to their advantage to rest and clear their minds. Time was of the essence, true, but they were ahead of the schedule prepared with the councilmen in Hollow Grove, and thus had the luxury to spend a couple of days in the Sweet Ale with no rebellious business nor schemes. Michael and his spies handled those. Vivienne and Maxwell were simply the signal, everything else was in place.

While Vivienne was helping Madam Jean in the kitchen, a familiar pastime and a nice change of pace to her past three winters, and Maxwell was spending his days telling stories to the patronage as if he were a bard, through Michael’s network of spies, a message reached the hands of the Hall’s steward.

“It is time”, it read. Once he’d nod to the messenger, he would return to his post as if nothing happened. The next time he’d see the Viscount and his bride behind closed doors, he’d mention he had received word from his watchmen that emissaries bearing the sigils of the capital. “Six of them.” he'd say. A peculiar number that would catch the attention of the Viscountess. For emissaries from the capital were never less than eleven, four to carry the sun-sewn banners in their arms and seven to carry the emperor’s rulings in their hearts.

While the Viscount would seek his trusted steward’s council on the matter, as an unexpected visit from the capital always alarmed lords, his wife would make eye contact with the advisor and likewise nod in understanding. The day would pass, and the Viscount would get more anxious by the moment. The approaching emissaries would focus all his attention away from his court, his wife especially, allowing her time to lure one of her personal guards into her chambers for yet another night. But unbeknownst to him, he was a toy, a pawn. He was a necessary sacrifice in the grand scheme to take over Ashbourne. A sacrifice the Shepherds were at peace with, for he was an imperial down to the core, born and bred with Dawnfield’s ideals etched deep in his soul. He would never turn and so his death would come, one way or the other.

His only indiscretion, and the one that would get him killed, was bedding his lord’s wife. Knowing the Viscount was in counsel with his steward and his wife awaited on her bed in her lonesome, the stout guard would wait until the dead of the night to slip into his lords’ chambers through the secret doorway leading to the room next door. There he would find his beloved, possibly in a state of undress.

The itch on his groin would drive him to her without question. She would let it go on. Let him touch her. Let him remove her clothing, rip them as she’d made him believe she liked. He would lower his trousers, but never take them off, for she forbade it. She would lay down, on her back and he would crawl over her. She’d ask him to be just a tiny bit more forceful, bite her.

Then she’d reach for the sharp knife under her pillow.

She’d run it across his neck, drenching them both in his blood as during his last moments, he’d stare at her in surprise and horror, probably clutching the gush on his neck. He could muster no screams, he’d gurgle, drown in his own blood and then she’d prepare for her husband’s return.

During plotting, the steward had agreed to give her more than enough time to carry on with her part. He would keep the Viscount busy nearly till daybreak and insist he got some shuteye before they resumed in the morning. Exhausted and daunted by the capital’s threat, he would climb the stairs to his keep to find his wife wrapped in a sheet, bloody, manhandled, and one of the guards he personally chose for her, dead on his bed.

What he’d believe in that moment mattered little, for she’d rush to him for comfort. She’d bury herself in his arms and before he could call for reinforcements, she’d push the knife deep in his chest. Aiming for his heart. If she didn’t get it the first time, she’d try again. And again. Until her husband dropped dead, his blood painting red the marble floor.

She’d take the knife, unwrap the sheet around her body and return to her position on her bed. She’d pull the dead guard on top of her, as much as she could, careful so she could breathe. She’d tie a cloth around her mouth, bite on it, get it wet with her saliva, and stick the knife into the guard’s neck. Once the gag was wet, she’d remove it and scream.

More guards would come and witness the scene in their beloved Viscount’s chambers. She’d scream some more, urging them to take the dead body off her. The moment they did, she’d wrap a sheet around her again and storm out of the room. Frantic, she’d command them to check on her children. She herself would run to their rooms, although she of course knew nothing had befallen them. In her chambers, the guards would pull the knife out of their comrade’s neck and find it was Oremartian bronze with the hammer, the sigil of the city in the northeast, decorating the hilt.

The plan was sound. Seraphina herself would’ve approved, even if there were a couple of variables. The steward monitored those closely, and although they had a few guesses as to what the following day would bring, they had to wait until it came.

That time came six days after Vivienne and Maxwell had set foot in Michael’s office. Regan, the steward and a man of the League, came into the tavern himself and brought with him an entourage of four guardsmen. He requested that Michael and Madam Jean accompanied him to the main hall, where the Viscountess demanded their presence. They abode almost eagerly but requested two of their own came as well. Regan, seeing Maxwell, feigned annoyance to the request, but accepted nonetheless.

Regan brought the four of them to the main hall and they all bowed before the Viscountess, her advisors close at hand. “Milady, let me present you with your guests. Michael, owner of the Sweet Ale, and Madam Jean, his cook. Two of their associates accompany them.”

The Viscountess motioned them to rise. “Master Michael, Madam Jean, friends, welcome to our hold. I have disturbing news and must ask for your aid, I am afraid.” One of her advisors tried to cut her off, but she wouldn’t have it. Vivienne was tempted to peek into their minds, so tempted. “My advisors are against it, but right now I need people around me I believe I can trust.”

“Milady, you know…” Michael also tried to cut her off, but again, she didn’t let him.

“…I know I can trust you? I’ve heard that before, yet only yesterday…” Her voice faded, a single sob escaped her lips. She took a deep breath and continued. “My beloved husband, Viscount Micah, was murdered.” The sound of several gasps filled the otherwise silent hall. “One of our housecarls came into our chambers last night. He murdered my husband and tried to rape me. He would kill me as well, no doubt.”

“Milady, if you wish I could…” Regan tried, but she silenced him.

“I have to do this on my own, Regan.” Again, she took a long breath. “The man, my guards tell me, was an Oremartian. He managed to infiltrate our hall. He was right under our noses the whole time. It seems the new Viscount of Oremart got revenge for his father’s death, here, on our watch.”

“My liege, that happened eight winters ago. Dawnfield herself found no fault in your husband’s actions. Even thanked him for apprehending the assassin.” One of the advisors remarked.

Vivienne didn’t need help knowing who the assassin was. Maxwell’s rigid body and heavy breathing shone light. Emmery. Her hands reached into his and rubbed. Her gift took away his pain and he sighed. Composed. He nodded to her and their attention returned to the people in front of them.

“Yet, my husband is dead by Oremartian hand.” That silenced the advisor and she looked to Michael again. “People close to me and mine brought me great sorrow, master Michael. People my husband chose to comprise our staff. I cannot put the safety of my children in the hands of someone I haven’t chosen myself. Not anymore. You, master Michael, you and Madam Jean have known me since I was a young girl. My family often visited your establishment back then. These days your food is the most renowned in the city. My advisors may be against this, but I know you and now, I would like you to take over the kitchens.”

It was no request, but a command. Michael bent to one knee. “Milady, we would be honored to serve you.”

The Viscountess nodded. “Make your arrangements with your establishment and start as soon as possible. Keep in mind that anyone you want hired has to go through me first. No one will work here that I have not overseen. Understood?” Many called out their confirmation, her advisors the most loudly. “Good. Now…” she looked to her advisors. “…leave us. I would like to discuss my children’s eating habits with my new cooks. Steward Regan, please stay and keep notes.”

“Yes, my liege.” Regan replied nodding. The advisors and all others in the room rushed away, fearful of her wrath. They all allowed time to pass before they moved on to their own matters. “Well played. I almost believed you myself.”

“Years of practice, Regan.” The Viscountess rose from her seat and approached Maxwell, pulling him in a familiar embrace. “Somehow I knew you were behind the signal. You always stir trouble, my friend.”

“Indeed, I do. Usually it’s… louder and messy, though.” Maxwell laughed and so did she. “Clare, this is…”

“Vivienne. Our means of salvation and your wife, from what I’ve heard?” The Viscountess said and offered a hand to Vivienne.

“Not yet. We have to get rid of tyrant first, milady.” She replied shaking her hand. Maxwell was frowning next to her.

The Viscountess scoffed. “Please, it’s Clare, no need for pleasantries. I am a Shepherd too, just trained in aspects other than combat.”

“Mainly politics and backstabbing.” Regan added.

“Same thing, is it not?” Clare asked amused.

“Almost.” Michael agreed. “Did everything go according to plan?”

Clare nodded. “More or less. One guard tried to question my account. Micah took longer to return to our chambers and the blood from the imperial almost dried on me.”

“Did the Viscount not notice? Dried blood, it’s rather obvious…” Madam Jean asked, well acquainted with blood over her years of handpicking and often butchering herself the livestock for the tavern.

Clare didn’t hesitate to answer. “Micah was terrible with blood. He couldn’t even look at me, took a few steps back when I approached him for comfort. I almost thought he would run out of the room, but I got to him first and finished what I started.”

“And you did it well. His realm is yours to command.” Michael said clapping. “Have they taken well to the changes you’ll inflict?”

“Not mine, Michael. I serve the League, nothing more.” Clare said and took a seat on a nearby sofa. “Sit, let us discuss the changes.” She waited until they all did. “My father and his guards are already on the way to take over as housecarls, you take the kitchens and councilmen from Embersummit have already come to become my advisors. No one here will like it, but no one will second guess me. Micah was a good man. A good ruler. They loved him, even the opposing lords. As his wife and mother to his children, they will accept me until my son is old enough to take his place. I’m hoping that time will not come to pass and we are a free people before long.”

“As do we all, Clare. As do we all.” Regan said and looked at Vivienne. “What is your take, lady Vivienne? Will it happen soon?”

All eyes turned to Vivienne and she stopped breathing. Those people were important, of course they knew part of her role in the fight. But attention was not something she liked. She cleared her throat. “I am of his kind. In theory I can counter him, get close enough to deliver the final blow. Let us hope that plan goes as well as yours turned out here last night.”

“Let us hope.” Clare agreed. “Will you be riding north now that we have the city?”

“We will. We have overstayed actually.” Maxwell confirmed sneaking an arm around Vivienne. “We needed a little time to rest before the final stretch.”

“And we will start preparation for the attack on Oremart. We hope for you a swift success in Neverfall. Once her forces join ours, I have faith we will take the savages with little problem.”

Clare nodded again. “Indeed. With Neverfall rallying to our side, the south will be ours. Anything you need for your journey, don’t hesitate to ask. We are counting on you.”

“No pressure…” Vivienne thought to herself, her breath stuck in her throat again.

When they’d passed through Ironham the past spring, numerous imperials flooded the city. City watchmen and the soldiers guarding Keira. But both lots were heedless and sloppy in their job. It’d worked wonders for Reggie and Vivienne then as they had smuggled Keira out without too many problems, but they were no longer so. The imperials were more in number and more in diligence. It would be harder to go through them. Difficult without alerting anyone. Impossible without killing many.

True to the initial reports, in the outskirts of the city but also keeping a distance from the unwelcome forest, every few leagues there was an outpost with three to four watchmen who rotated every hour or two. When the rebel forces reached the site and while awaiting reinforcements from Mountmend, they counted twenty-three posts and roughly seventy-five watchmen. An alarming number of imperials to stand outside the city alone. They estimated a number of eight hundred sworn imperials, soldiers and otherwise, inside Ironham. While they were preparing to fight all eight hundred after dispatching the men outside the walls, they believed the simple folk, consisting of workers, women and children, wouldn’t stand in their way, there would still be six, maybe seven hundred left to deal with.

The Shepherds matched those numbers and more once the Mountmenders arrived, but unlike the empire, they couldn’t spare a single man or woman. Their actions had to assure there would be as few casualties as possible. To that end, they had to wait for more suitable conditions. Attacking the city then, even under the cover of night, with a sky so clear the moon and stars shone bright light on them wasn’t in their favor. A stealthy approach was their best bet, and so, even after the Mountmenders joined them, the Shepherds waited.

During that time, Acilia and her band of smithies managed to get every man, woman or child not with the empire who was unable to fight safely out of the city. Letters of sickly relatives or commissions kept reaching Ironham to avoid suspicion of the mass exit. Those people, a hundred spanning all ages, but mostly women and children, remained deep into the forest, away from the encampment, while the rebel forces prepared to take their city.

In their stead, Shepherds went into the city to take up their jobs. All the papers used to allow them entrance to Ironham were legitimate, as the masters of Mountmend had drawn them up. No guard took a second look at them once they saw the seals on their papers as twenty-seven men and women walked into the city in the course of the two fortnights. Reggie was among the first to go in as he had devised the plan to break the city from the inside. Ten out of the twenty-five bashers were also of the first, since they were integral to Reggie’s plan. Another sixteen men and women managed to enter before the first drops of rain came.

They didn’t start the raid on the first night of foul weather. They wished to see if there would be any change to the process of the watchmen rotation. When two nights had passed and no change came, they decided the third would be one to strike while the weather still favoured them.

There was little talk among the Shepherds during that day, each preferred their own way to prepare. Seraphina spent it checking her equipment and honing her steel in her tent. When she was done, the blades of her bow, her daggers and knives were sharp enough to cleave through skin at the lightest touch. Earlier, she’d gone by the blacksmith and picked more arrows than her quiver could carry and in the last hours before the strike, she examined each and every one of the seventy arrows she’d picked up. She stacked many in her quiver, put the rest in a larger quiver strapped on her thigh.

Her uncle walked in her tent as she was finishing up with her armor. He helped her with the last few straps. “Your thoughts?” He asked.

“One thousand strong, plus fifty elementals against seven, eight hundred imperials and we take them by surprise.” She said looking ahead, devoid of any emotion. “We will prevail, but I do not know the cost.”

“We can only hope it be low.” Barkley said and turn her towards him.

“No.” Seraphina said shaking her head and walked past him. “Hope won’t make it so. Only our actions.”

“Seraphina…” Barkley called softly.

"No." She stopped. She glanced back at him. “Last time I passed the gates of this city, I left a string of nineteen bodies behind me. Anyone who saw me, whether servant or guard. Dead. You remember.” She paused until he nodded. “When Max and I stopped at a village near Mountmend, leagues upon leagues away, to coordinate the attacks on the convoys full of gold, whispers of my kills reached our ears. Do you know what they called the faceless murderer?”

“I don’t.” The look he gave her was full of pity.

“Redstreak. After the trail of blood I left in my wake.” She paused and turned away. “No one needs Seraphina tonight, but that monster? Redstreak? Everyone needs Redstreak.”