Record of Ashes War

Chapter 34 - Plots

Sar'tara sat tall and proud on the back of her horse, riding next to Kalin and Rask, feeling the late winter winds brush along her skin. A thick cloak hung from her shoulders but her belly still remained bare. Twenty thousand men, some nervous and others eager, marched behind. She knew full well that she didn’t belong at the front as a mere captain of five hundred. Kalin just allowed her to ride at his side.

It was like living in one of Ny'Danis' stories. Stories about armies moving at the behest of great nations and greater heroes. Sar'tara imagined the reactions of her sisters. Of what Stel'Na and Kiali might say or do. Of what Freya might think, seeing the crybaby she'd sung lullabies to sitting as a proud warrior.

As a warrior about to take lives.

Her shoulders slumped. She had been reveling in the thought of taking another life. Reveling in the same shameless actions that had stolen her home. War sounded so glamorous in stories. There was nothing glamorous about killing. War had claimed Freya's life. Mina's life. And many others.

The realization finally struck her. For the past few months, she had thought nothing of her previous actions. An enemy was an enemy. And enemies had to be killed. That was all she'd known since escaping from the Union's grasp. But each and every person she'd slain was a person as well. A person with perhaps families that cared for them just as she had seen in Ny'Danis' final Trial. Even soldiers of the Union were perhaps against their actions but were forced to follow orders. Sar'tara once again found herself questioning the difference between herself and her enemies. Questioning her purpose as a soldier.

Kalin once said that a fourth of the Thousand Sun City were military personnel, some of them unwillingly. That aside, what of the rest? Wouldn't she become just as vile as the Union that'd slain her sisters if she attacked a city full of innocents for her vengeance?

The sounds of marching boots echoed in her ears. Thousands behind her, all ready to kill, all ready to die. "Why would anyone willingly go live at the Sun City?" she asked.

"False hope," Kalin replied. "You ask that question because you've seen their true face. Or at least the true face of their leaders. Most civilians know them from rumors as forces of justice. Regardless of the situation, the Astral Union has proven its true colors when they burnt your home for magical Artifacts. Even if their end goal truly is rooting out darkspawn, justifying a genocide for the sake of power is no different from an act of evil in my books." Kalin looked at the sky. "I know you want justice. But don't ever hope for war, Sar'tara. It is amongst the vilest of acts people can commit."

"But often a necessary act," Rask said.

"Yes, often necessary. Sometimes war is waged to end wars. Sometimes, it is only to defend your loved ones and your home."

Defending loved ones and her home. Defending family. Sar'tara glanced at Kalin. She knew her nightmares would continue so long as her family's murderers roamed free. But she could not lose sight of herself while chasing after vengeance. She had a new home now. A soldier was a guardian of their nation. Her purpose was clear to her now. "Thank you a fourth time, Kalin." He didn't reply. Sar'tara kept her eyes low but sat up straight again.

Rask pulled out a spyglass and looked further in the distance. "I see the ruins," he said.

Kalin grunted. "Sar'tara, take a fifth of your unit and do a round of the village. Return and… On second thought, send Faren in your stead."

"Just scouting right? I can do it," she stated.

"It’s a burnt village. Are you sure?"

"Yes." She needed to get over her fears of fire. And with Kalin near, she had the confidence to face those fears.

He nodded. Sar'tara rode back and called for a hundred of her horses trotting alongside the foot soldiers to follow after her. They headed forward, the Cinder River a short distance to their right. She took out her own spyglass that she'd been given, looking through it across the river which marked the border between Xenaria and Tarmia. She saw nothing but hilly plains with the occasional cluster of trees. Spyglasses were truly remarkable. They made distances seem shorter than they were. They also provided information on what lay ahead. She looked through it towards her destination. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked at the site. Ashen ruins of a village. She put the spyglass down.

Breathe, Tara. She grit her teeth. She was now in a position of power. She was now a guardian of Xenaria and in a position to deliver retribution to those that had harmed her citizens. The village came into view. Pillars of wooden houses remained. Charred and hewn bodies lay scattered about, though not as dense as she expected. It had been a village of a few hundred at most. Sar'tara refused to close her eyes, taking in the grueling scene with every fibre of her being, for every time she closed her eyes, she couldn't help but imagined flames and screams.

The horses rode around the village, seeing nothing of note. Far in the distance, her already keen eyes caught something fluttering in the wind at the top of a shallow hill. A flag of sorts. Sar'tara squinted, trying to make out what it was. Unable to, she resorted to the spyglass again. It was a white banner with a red hand. The hand of Tarmia. Behind it, dozens of similar banners. Much more than she'd seen during the previous skirmish. The Empire had already crossed the river.

Sar'tara split her contingent further and ordered them to survey the nearby hills and declines for potential hidden forces. She returned to the main army with a few dozen to report her findings.

***

"What did you say your name was?"

"Vulpecula, Lord Kazir. You may refer to me as Judge Vul, if you wish."

"Judge… One of those so called Constellations of the Union?" The man nodded. The sun upon his curved and polished breastplate seemed to come alive, reflecting the light of candle flames within the tent. Kazir could see the flickering flames dancing within the blacks of Vul's eyes. And shining against his bald head. "Vulpecula as in fox. But…" Kazir's hands moved in a blur. Within the span of a second, he drew both blades at his side, his hooked sword capturing Vul's right hand and his scimitar stopping short of the bald man's neck. "Foxes don't roam the sewers looking for food and smelling of piss. I am an assassin. I am Wickar. I know the smell of a rat." Kazir looked the man up and down. "And the sight of one too."

"Indeed. I wouldn't dare take you for a fool," Vul said. He was feigning resolve despite his precarious situation.

The one thing a warrior hated most was to be separated from their weapon. Kazir could sense his captive's fear. With his right hand held hostage, Vul was no warrior. He was a lamb awaiting slaughter.

Vul's eyes narrowed. His voice thinned. "The same way you wouldn't be fool enough to take my head. My legion has been given a time limit. If I do not return, word of the Empire's treachery will reach The Lord Sun."

"Or I could just off you right now and order your legion destroyed."

"Oh? Your some twenty or thirty thousand conscripted farmers are capable of destroying two thousand of my well-armed and battle hardened warriors? Even if it was just a normal inquisition legion, you'd never kill everyone. This is the legion of a Constellation Judge. You…"

Kazir stopped listening, rolling his eyes. Those afraid always talked for too long. Vul was a schemer. Not a warrior. He pressed his scimitar's edge against Vul's throat. The man shut up and then scowled, presumably realizing that his pressed lips had truly exposed his fear just then. Kazir smirked. "Answer me, rat. Why did you burn the village using our banners?"

"You'd have done it all the same, no? You've crossed the Cinder River with the intent to wage war."

Kazir tugged with his hooked sword, this time drawing blood from Vul's wrist. "Do NOT answer my question with another. Why?"

"Xenaria is corrupt at its core. It needs a reform. The nation of the once all powerful Flame Bearers. Though they’ve been destroyed, most Xenarians still follow the Laws of the Eternal Flame. They still use a creation of darkspawn for their religion! Aid me, Kazir. I will help you kill Kalin Serene. The Union is not one to forget merit. Xenaria will be split between us and the Empire depending on who contributed to their demise the greatest. With Kalin gone, is there any other who could dare to match you?"

Kazir could feel his blood boil. Vul knew. Knew that he'd suffered countless losses against the duke. He was trying to exploit the inferiority complex growing within Kazir's heart. There was also the matter of trust. The Astral Union were far from trustworthy partners. As soon as Xenaria fell, they'd turn their eyes on Tarmia.

But so long as Xenaria stood, the Union would remain allies. They'd do it to push their narrative as the force of justice. Xenaria would be labelled a land of darkspawn. And if this Lord Sun thought he could take the Empire with ease, he'd be vastly underestimating the likes of Idris Khan. Vastly underestimating myself. Join hands with the serpent at my feet to defeat the silver eagle flying above… "Had I not been here, this burning village would have been pinned on me regardless because I am known to fight without honor. You were trying to ignite a war between us whilst striking Xenaria from the south while they're distracted. Now that I am here, you're seeking equal grounds on the condition that we join hands to kill the duke here and now."

"No," Vul refuted. "I'd have never burned the village had I not already known you'd be arriving. Our target is Kalin. Leaving him alive would make invading Xenaria far too dangerous."

Scalding bastard. Regardless of who it was, no one openly admitted to be spying on their neighbors. Kazir knew full well that his militia would never triumph over Kalin. He'd arrived with the intention of challenging the duke to a duel. He didn't have any traps prepared this time. Kazir didn’t know what madness had led to that decision. Perhaps a small part of his childhood clinging to a stray strand of honor within his heart —a romantic image of the ideal warrior. Ideal hero. Vul had likely guessed his intentions and was now offering a different way out. The Union were fools. They were underestimating the High Lords of Xenaria. But a chance to be rid of Kalin…

Kazir lowered his scimitar. His hooked sword still remained in its exact position. "Speak."

Vul smiled. A look of triumph. "A simple plan. Kalin won't attack the Union. We will march past them. Launch a night strike. Your militia, untrained as they are, will prove disadvantageous. But we will strike Kalin's camp from behind. Take the ensuing chaos to send your Wickar in. Or of course, go in yourself and—" Vul dragged his left hand along his own throat, "claim your revenge."

"Easy enough to follow. Kalin will suspect something. He's avoided traps time and time again."

"Oh, he won't suspect a thing. I'll pay him a visit myself and offer my aid to him."

Kazir tugged with his hooked blade, the edge digging deeper into Vul's wrist. "If I even catch a hint of you playing both the duke and I, I will make sure the entirety of the Wickar Temple turn their blades against the Thousand Sun City."

Vul nodded, maintaining his smile of triumph. He was easy to read. He was no sly fox. Kazir removed his hooked blade and let the bald Judge walk free. Vul made a show of throwing his night sky cloak as if he were an aristocrat before leaving.

Kazir ground his teeth. I may have lost my honor. But I haven't lost my pride.

***

Kalin looked over a map of the region as his soldiers began setting up a camp. According to Sar'tara's report, the enemy numbered some twenty to thirty thousand. Relative equal numbers to his own soldiers. Only, there had to be another ploy. The Empire's militia was no match for the Xenarian forces. The rolling hills and narrow passes to Kalin's rear made for excellent hiding places for an ambush force, but his scouts reported no such force.

"Your Grace!" Rask called, running fast despite the heavy defensive armor. "The inquisition legion that were sighted before. They're marching past. The leader wants a word with you."

Kalin raised an eyebrow. "Where's Sar'tara?"

"With her unit."

"Keep her out of sight. Send this leader to see me."

"Should we wait until the command tent has been erected?" the commander asked.

"They don't deserve formal treatment. Send him as is." Rask nodded and left. Kalin folded the maps and set them aside. The tent was nearly done being erected anyhow. He stared up at the clear sky, sighing aloud, dazed and irritated at the constant battles. He caught sight of Sar'tara tending to her horse as Faren and others erected tents. Being a captain, she was forced to sleep near her own unit. It was strange. The thought of being alone at night was unsettling. He'd grown accustomed to her warmth. To the feel of her lips and the sounds of her breaths.

He met her eyes for a brief moment before someone got in the way and delivered a message to her. Kalin turned around to see a bald man wearing a breastplate with a sun walking towards him. He was surrounded by several Xenarians.

"Lord Serene," the man said, bowing low. Kalin flinched at the sunlight reflecting off of his bald head. "Constellation Judge Vulpecula at your service. You may refer to me as Vul."

"So you say. Your inquisition legion was camped here for a few months. Now, the village is burnt and an Empire army is sitting within our borders."

"We had reason to be here, my lord. There were traces of darkspawn here, hidden among ordinary villagers. We could not let such a fact go unnoticed."

"What kind of traces?" Kalin asked, eyes narrowing. He didn't believe a single word coming out of the man's mouth.

"Traces of Flame Bearers. There were certain hints to suggest the usage of Eternal Flames."

"Get into specifics, Judge. I am a skeptic lest convinced. It comes with being a Serene. I seek truth." The laws written by the Flame Bearers served as a moral code for Xenarians. Kalin cared little for the Union's claims. He would protect a Flame Bearer if they asked if only to spite the Union, but any survivors of the ancient royal bloodline lived in hiding.

"My lord, it pains me that you would doubt the Astral Union. Regardless, a shed had burned down within the village. A simple tool shed. The villagers say that glowing embers remained for many days. My legion was merely passing by and the villagers requested us to investigate the matter."

Kalin nodded, feigning interest. "I'm told your legion numbers around two thousand. I would hope that the village was not troubled for food."

"No, of course not," Vul hurriedly said. "We had contracts with merchants crossing the border, Of course, we were still forced to ration quite a bit."

Another nod. Kalin felt his temper rise. Amongst the detailed reports he received, the merchant's guild had made no mention of forming a contract with a Union legion. And individual merchants couldn't possibly hope to feed two thousand mouths for several months. "And this darkspawn culprit?"

"A middle aged woman admitted to experimenting with evil Flames eventually a few days back."

Eventually. The poor woman had probably admitted to it to save the villagers from starvation. Another group of Xenarians that suffered while Kalin was the duke. This time, he'd known of it. Yet his hands were tied. "So how did the village burn down?" he asked, fingers twitching. They wanted to draw his sword. Wanted to kill this despot standing before him.

"I must first ask your lordship to please not be angered. Around that time, we caught wind of an Empire army crossing the Cinder River. The Astral Union has no intention to involve itself in the wars of other nations. With our task complete, we were set to withdraw. However, I received a message from Kazir of the Empire. Someone you've faced off against many times I've heard. He requested an audience. I agreed. Whilst meeting him, his men burned this village down. It pains me dearly, as I'd come to know some of these villagers on a personal level, having been here for so long."

Oh, I'm sure you did.

"I will admit," Vul continued, "however, it is unlikely that I would have aided the village people if I was aware of the attack. As I said, we cannot involve ourselves in the wars of others."

Kalin inhaled. Then exhaled through his teeth. He took everything Vul said with a grain of salt. "And so why are you meeting with me now?"

"Kazir offered me a deal. He asked for help in taking you down. Once the two armies are engaged, my legion is to strike the Xenarians from behind. I was offered a chest full of gold. He thought to buy a force of justice through greed. I accepted the offer of course, though not in truth. I will do no such thing as aiding those that slaughtered innocent people. I came instead to offer my aid to you free of charge, my lord. Those killing innocents are hardly any different from darkspawn as far as I'm concerned."

So Kazir was trying to set a trap. Or Vul was lying. It was better to assume the worst. Better to just be rid of the Union. "Your offer is appreciated, Judge. But it is not needed. I will fell Kazir once and for all. I implore you to leave with your legion. Any force not our own will be treated as hostile. I take no risks."

"Understandable. Farewell, Lord Serene. May the heavens watch over you and your men." The man bowed once more, causing Kalin to flinch again at the sunlight.

***

Sar'tara hid behind her horse, watching Kalin converse with a man of the Union. She could sense the duke's discomfort from the movements of his arms and back. It was clear the Union soldier was a man of authority. She wanted to drive an arrowhead straight into the center of the sun image on his breastplate. Not only was he perhaps partially responsible for the death of her sisters, but he was also a threat to her current home and family. A hand reached for the quiver tied to her horse. Someone caught her wrist just as she touched the soft fletching of an arrow.

"My lady, I would advise against that," Faren said.

Sar'tara tugged against the firm grip, trying to free her hand and grab an arrow regardless. "I know," she answered, her words not matching her actions. She watched as the bald man bowed before Kalin and walked off without consequence. Only then did Faren let her wrist go. She stomped a foot, scowling. "Can't we just go hunt down their legion?"

"In an ideal world, if we had some way to envelop them and stop every single man from escaping, then perhaps? Of course, this isn't an ideal world. If it were, your home would not be ashes."

His words cut through her like the blades of winter winds. But he was right. There would eventually come a time for her revenge. She needed to exercise patience and wisdom as she'd learned from the Guardian Trials.

Sar'tara scratched her horse's neck. Life had been much simpler then. When she only had a single goal. When she hadn't known of her Mother's treachery. "Are our tents set?" she asked. Faren nodded. She rubbed her bare arms. She had to sleep alone. It wouldn't be cold. There would be many blankets. But Sar'tara knew she'd feel cold. Kalin's arms wouldn't be around her. His chest wouldn't be there to bury her head in.

"Should I have your supper prepared, my lady?"

"Why do you still call me that instead of captain?"

Faren thought for a second. "Because one title precedes the other? It’s the same when we address the duke as 'your grace' rather than 'lord commander'. He is the commander of all of House Serene's soldiers, but he is the duke first and foremost."

Such complicated customs. Sar'tara waved her hand. "You can leave something in my tent. I'll be taking a walk." Faren nodded, standing between her and her arrows. He was making sure she didn't take a full quiver with her. She still had a curved sword at her side, though far from mastering its use.

Sar'tara's eyes followed Kalin. She desired to ask about what it was the Union wanted. But he seemed busy enough as is. It was better if she didn't distract him on the eve of battle. She walked to the edge of camp, away from everyone else. Out in the open plains, the winds had a much easier time reaching her. She shrouded her entire body with the rough heavy cloak around her shoulders. It was nearly as heavy as the fur of bears, but not nearly as warm. Entirely inefficient. Perhaps she would be fortunate to find a bear when Kalin took her to visit other forests.

Sar'tara's shadow extended longer and longer as the sun began to sink. She paused, spotting a strange figure gliding towards the war camp. Its movements were strange, like that of a small animal. The huntress squinted. The figure paused every once in a while, shrinking to the size of a wolf. When it moved, its size grew again. As it approached closer to the encampment, she saw it for what it truly was. A man trying to slither his way in. An effective circle of guards had yet to be formed to spot him. Even within the open plains, the man was weaving his way forward with extreme precision so as not to be seen. Any passing eyes would dismiss him as an animal. Sar'tara saw the fluttering of his cloak, its color the same as sunlight upon the yellow winter grass. An assassin.

She turned her head away, pretending to have not noticed. She walked further away from the camp until the slippery figure was behind her. Only then did Sar'tara turn around and stalk her prey, daggers already in her hand. For a moment she returned to her past life. Knees bent low, measured and silent steps forward, eyes keeping track of her target at all times…

He was gone.

Sar'tara whipped her head around. Nothing. She thought to run straight into the camp and scream assassin. No. That would force her prey to flee and make her seem a fool. She crouched lower, trying to blend in with the yellowed grass that reach up past her shins. She caught sight of her prey again. The assassin was on his knees or lower, completely still. He was spying into the encampment. Perhaps just an experienced Empire scout then?

She continued forward until she was half a dozen feet from her target. No one was there. The dying grass colored cloak was hanging from the pommel of a hooked sword stabbed into the ground. She'd been baited. Without turning, she lunged forward and rolled, dropping the daggers and drawing her shamshir instead. She turned then to face her enemy, getting into an appropriate stance. All she caught sight of was a blur moving beside her. And then there was a blade edge at the side of her throat.

"Not bad," the assassin said. His accent was thicker than her own. "Your steps are quiet. For the most part anyway. And you saw the trap for what it was and lunged forward to make distance instead of turning as most would. Hmm. I'll give it seven out of ten."

The blade edge fell away from her throat. Sar'tara turned to find a tan skinned man with hair so long that it was wrapped around his neck. His torso was bare, a scorpion tattoo on his abdomen. One of the Wickar. The man turned his back on her and retrieved his cloak and hooked blade. Instinct screamed at Sar'tara to run. Unfathomable bloodlust oozed from him. And yet, she was still alive. He hadn't killed her. Why? Because I'm inferior? She didn't have time to answer questions. Such a dangerous man was a few dozen feet from the Xenarian camp. Sar'tara stepped in to attack as the Tarmian bent down to retrieve his cloak. Her hand came down. The thin blade of the shamshir seemed to pass right through him.

No.

He was spinning at the exact moment the sharp edge was meant to make contact with his skin. The next thing she saw was the tip of a boot rounding towards her. White filled her vision as she felt herself collapse to the ground.

"You must be the huntress from the burned forest," the man said. He clicked his tongue. "Had you been an ordinary soldier, you'd be deader than the grass of these plains right now. But I fear the duke won't take too kindly if someone close dies." A heavy boot pinned Sar'tara to the ground. Her vision cleared to stare at a scimitar tip. The man used it to brush aside loose strands of her hair that didn't get tied along with her single braid. "I'll give you credit. At least you don't pretend to be a panther. You are one. Though, your fangs are small. You've certainly got a pretty face. You'd make a useful slave. A little younger and the Wickar Temple may have accepted one such as you without question."

Sar'tara's heart drummed. Her breaths came quick. Trembling hands tried feeling around for her fallen weapon. The man noticed her feeble attempts. He poked her left hand with the scimitar. The weapon bit into her flesh between her thumb and index finger. He then twisted the blade. Sar'tara clenched her teeth shut but a voice of pain still escaped her throat. Tears formed on the edges of her eyes.

"That's for ruining my plans in the last skirmish. You will be useless for this battle now, little kitten. That left hand can no longer hold a bow. Unless you have unimaginable pain tolerance. Somehow, I doubt that."

Sar'tara glared through her blurry vision. She couldn't make out the features of his face. All she saw was a triumphant grin.

"Get up. I have no intention of killing you. I need a word with Kalin."

The boot was lifted off of her. Sar'tara pulled herself up, dusting away the dirt on her belly. She clutched the wound on her hand to staunch the bleeding. "Why should I trust an assassin?"

"You shouldn't." The man picked up her shamshir and daggers and held them out. "Point your blade at my back and walk me into camp. I'll keep my hands up. Feel free to remove my head from my shoulders any time you wish."

Sar'tara had half a mind to lop that cocky head off right then and there. But she didn't. She couldn't. He was that much better than her. It's alright, she convinced herself. Kalin would be guarded well at the sight of an assassin. It took a bit to relax her breathing. "Walk then."

***

"Your Grace!" a guardsman cried as he rushed into the tent. "The Huntress! I mean, Lady Sar'tara! She's marching into camp with General Kazir. She has him at a blade's edge."

Kalin frowned, looking up from the regional maps. He eyed the guard up and down, making sure the man wasn't an assassin himself. Kazir was too slippery to just get caught. Kalin drew his sword and stepped out of the tent along with his guard. Many armed soldiers stood between him and the Tarmian leader. He was walking with his arms up as Sar'tara held her sword at his nape. Long hair wrapped around his neck, tattoo on his abdomen, and bare torso save for a brownish yellow cloak. It really was Kazir.

"It's an honor, Kalin. Ah, whenever was it last that we met?"

He'd said 'Kalin' without any sort of honorific. He was treating himself as an equal. Kalin smirked. Such confidence when surrounded was something to be admired. The dozens of angry soldiers standing before him were like mere loafs of soft bread waiting to be cut. Kalin had seen Kazir dance before. And he was being bold enough to openly emit his bloodlust. His entire expression was covered with a desire to kill. "Last time… Five years ago when you tried assassinating my father, Lord Sialin."

"And he died not a month after from an ailment. Imagine my disappointment at not having claimed such a trophy myself! It was as if the sun had sunk completely from my life."

"Says the man who spends most of his time slithering in shadows. I'd think you a Vampire if I didn’t know any better. Why are you here, Kazir?"

"To talk," the man replied. A wicked grin spread on his face. "Alone. If you have any balls that is."

"He does," Sar'tara said, confirming what every present soldier knew as a near truth rumor. Kalin blinked, wondering if he'd heard that correctly. Everyone's reactions confirmed that he had. Kazir broke out in maniacal laughter. Every soldier lowered their guard and shuffled their feet, barely keeping from laughing themselves. Any tension in the air had disappeared. Kazir's bloodlust disappeared. Sar'tara cocked her head. "I don't follow. Is it a plains dweller custom to make challenges based on body parts? The soldiers seem to do it often."

Kalin didn’t know how to respond. He'd explained the concept of mating to her. She'd just accepted it as something to learn rather than feel any shame.

"You win, Kalin," Kazir said. He let his cloak fall and disarmed himself. "Now can we talk alone?"

Kalin nodded with a sigh. The soldiers regained their composure and remained vigilant. Sar'tara led the enemy general into the command tent and Kalin followed. Once inside, Kazir sat down cross legged on the ground, making himself comfortable. Kalin seated himself on the chair and waited for Sar'tara to leave. She stood, her curved sword still pointing at the enemy.

"I'm not leaving," she declared.

He shrugged and then turned his eyes to Kazir. "Speak.

"Idris really had it guessed all along," Kazir muttered. He waited for a reaction. Kalin gave none. "At least feign interest, Silver Eagle. Fine. The sun is setting. I'll keep this brief. Did some rat named Vul-piss-pants come here?"

Kalin nodded. "Something about you burning the village and asking for his help."

"I may have lost my honor, Your Grace, but I will not enlist the aid of another to kill you."

"Ironic that you sit here now as my captive."

"Spare me the tongue. That man is as a pig rolling around in his own excrement. He thinks himself smarter than the rest. They want you dead. Something about Xenaria being the land of the corrupt Flame Bearers. Something, something, heretics must burn. I help them kill you. They invade Xenaria. They burned this village using my name, then sought out my aid because you handed my rear to me a dozen times already."

"And?"

"And I hate rats," Kazir said. "Imagine boys of ten. Stuck in a dark room with no exit. A room full of rats for three days. No food. No drink. Just rats. That is the Wickar initiation trial."

"So I should pity you?" Kalin asked.

"No. You should help me. I'm to attack you at night. They attack you from behind. I'll have my militia envelop them and tell the vanguard to stand down. Please do kill them for me. Bring me Vulpiss's head."

"And then…?"

"And then I leave. My militia cannot beat your soldiers. Of course, in an ideal world, the Astral Union devastates your forces to a point that I can challenge you. Alas. There's little to no chance of that happening."

Kalin nodded thoughtfully. It was brazen of Kazir to mention that last bit. But he came here risking his own neck. A chance to destroy a Union legion without consequence. A chance to kill them to the last man so that no report can be taken to the Lord Sun. Though, one thing still didn't add up. For what purpose had Kazir crossed the river if he had no traps set up this time. "Do you hate the Union, Kazir?"

"As much as priests hate whores."

"…So you love them…?"

"Flames burn you. You get the point."

"Help me raze the Thousand Sun City," Kalin said. He glanced towards Sar'tara. Her eyes were alight with flame and her sword hand lowered ever so slightly.

Kazir's eyes narrowed. He stroked his smooth chin. "Who gets to keep the city?"

It was Kalin's turn to grin. "We'll fight over its remains," he shrugged.

The Tarmian bellowed. "You'd trust me to watch your back until then?"

"I don't even trust you to watch it within the span of tonight's battle."

Another laugh. "As you shouldn't. I'll consider the offer," Kazir finished as he rose to his feet. Sar'tara's hand snapped back up and she rounded to his side. "A question, Your Grace. If at any point I had ever asked you for a duel, would you have accepted?"

Kalin thought for a moment. Did he cross the river to do just that? "Perhaps. If you could guarantee that it would be a fair one on one without any tricks."

"Ha! Even if I did guarantee it, you'd never believe me."

"Quite right," Kalin agreed. Kazir gave an extravagant bow and saw himself out of the tent. Sar'tara meant to follow but Kalin grabbed her arm and shook his head. "Take your unit and ride away from the battlefield. I doubt the Union has had time to form a war camp. Regardless, head out during night when the battle begins. They should still have a pseudo command camp set up. Destroy it and then return." The Huntress nodded. She gave a passionate salute before turning to leave. Only then did Kalin see blood on her left hand. "Wait! What happened?" he said, his eyebrows creasing together.

"That man, Kazir, he stabbed me. Then allowed himself to be captured. It won't be a hindrance. The blood has stopped for the most part."

"That… But it's spilled. Everflowers will grow."

"It's alright. The blood leaves no trace. No one would know where the glowing flowers have come from," Sar'tara said with a thin smile. "I'll go see the physics. Please do not worry."