Category: Novel

It was none other than Sasha the Mercenary who, in a most unexpected twist, ascended to the role of regent for the Crystal Blood, adopting the esteemed name of Lady Sonya. Once a soldier of considerable renown and an exceptional swordmaster, albeit not quite in the exalted leagues of Hero Marteen Madrigal or Colonel Pallus Parn, she was known among her former employers for her unwavering loyalty, though her disposition was often described as rather reticent. Who could have foreseen that this formidable warrior, devoid of any maternal inkling, would step into the role of guardian for an orphaned princess? Who could have imagined that she would navigate the treacherous labyrinth of elven politics with such finesse? Whispers abounded regarding a possible maternal bond between Lady Sonya and the enigmatic Hero Acciaio, but alas, no confirmations were forthcoming from any of the Heroes. Despite a few initial missteps, Lady Sonya has deftly mastered the art of maneuvering through the murky waters of the Diet, ensuring the protection of the Crystal Blood’s interests. In her role as a parental figure, she has done admirably well, given her circumstances. Yet, one cannot ignore the unfortunate burdens she bears—a steadfast loyalty to a capricious Crystal Blood and an affection for a lover of questionable manners. One can only speculate how much more formidable she might have been, had she not been so encumbered by these demanding influences. – Irjin Tindi, society matron, excerpt from an interview for “The Lisandra Times”

SASHA

Sasha looked down at Marteen as Selene and another cleric desperately worked to keep the swordmaster from bleeding out. From the grim expressions on their faces, they were losing the battle. Sasha had seen enough battle wounds in her life. It was a minor miracle Selene managed to bring Marteen inside the Aponte Wall alive, much less keep him alive this long. It didn’t lessen her frustration.

The Goddess damn the man, Sasha thought. Why did he have to go and nearly get himself killed? Doesn’t he know how much we need him? How much I need him? Sasha’s head snapped up at the last thought. Sasha was so damned sure she put that damned man in her past. So, where was all of this coming from? Sasha felt a warm, soft hand in hers. She looked down to see Princess Illana standing next to her. The princess was wearing a dark hooded cloak to blend in with the mass of people at the Gold Gate. Princess Illana looked up and gave Sasha a comforting smile.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha whispered, barely keeping herself from adding the “your highness” honorific. Her Crystal Guard weren’t anywhere around, and Sasha didn’t have her own weapons to protect the princess from a Purist sympathizer or a disaffected volunteer.

“Being selfish,” Princess Illana answered, with an unusual meekness. “I was hoping to see Rin when he came back.”

“The cleric told you to stay in bed,” Sasha said.

“I’m feeling better.” The princess squeezed Sasha’s hand as she looked down at Marteen. “It hurts to see him like this, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sasha managed, “It will be a devastating blow to everyone if he dies. They all look up to him.” The princess looked at Sasha with knowing eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret,” the princess said, in a far too preceptive tone.

“I should go. There’s things that need to be done to help with tomorrow’s push,” Sasha said. The princess’s grip became crystal-hard.

“I’m sure Pallus and Dalan can manage right now. You need to be here with him.”

“But I can’t do anything!” Sasha snarled. “I’m just standing here helpless as he–” Sasha refused to say the last part of the sentence.

“You can stay with him,” Princess Illana said. She looked across the street as a half-dozen rangers walked through the Gold Gate. With a desperate look of her own, the princess crossed the street. She pulled one of the rangers off to the side and talked with him for a few terse moments.

Sasha mentally kicked herself. At least Sasha knew where the man she loved was. She shook her head. Damn it all, where did that come from? How many times did she tell herself that she was finally over Marteen? Her feelings about Pallus were confusing enough without throwing this into the fire.

She watched as Selene tended to Marteen. After a tense few minutes, Selene leaned back and almost fell over onto the street. Breathing hard, Selene wiped the sweat off her forehead. Sasha knelt next to Selene and cautiously put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. Selene looked up and gave Sasha a tired smile. Sasha felt a heavy weight lift off her shoulders.

“He’ll survive,” Selene said, “Beyond that, I don’t know.” She motioned to the other cleric. “Take him to the Crystal Palace. Not the hospital. They have enough on their hands right now.” The man nodded and ordered over a stretcher team. The three carefully lifted Marteen onto the stretcher before sprinting down the street.

“I’m guessing you’re not as over him as you thought you were,” Selene said, watching her friend. Sasha managed a slight nod, not trusting herself with much more. Selene let out a tired sigh. “He does have the nasty habit of getting back in your blood.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sasha said. Selene gently embraced her friend.

Princess Illana walked back to join them. Her steps were stilted and her face even paler than normal. Small streaks ran down her cheeks. Sasha’s relief at Marteen’s survival vanished as she saw the princess’s expression. Selene reached out and pulled the princess into a tight hug. There was an instant of resistance, and then the princess melted into Selene. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. After a moment, Princess Illana pulled away from Selene.

“Rin?” Sasha asked, quietly. She was terrified of the answer.

“They don’t know,” Princess Illana answered, almost biting off each word. “No one has seen him or Morelli since this morning.” She took a few deep breaths, and the scared girl was replaced by the calm look of the elven empress-to-be.

“The gates are closing for the night so the Sacellum can raise the Barrier. The Goddess or Protector willing, Rin is alive out there somewhere.”

“He’s alive,” Selene answered. “We would have felt it in the medallions if he wasn’t.”

“Princess, you should go back to bed. The cleric recommended as much rest as possible. There’s nothing we can do tonight.”

“We should meet with General Lopanes and decide how to take back my city,” Princess Illana said.

“As you told me just a bit ago, Pallus can do that,” Sasha countered. “Why don’t we walk back together?”

“That would be good,” Princess Illana, sounding just a bit like her old self. Sasha was willing to let that slide. They started walking back to the Crystal Palace. Princess Illana barely made it a dozen steps before she stopped and turned back to the Aponte Wall. The princess’s calm mask slipped, and Sasha could see all the princess’s fear and anxiety. It was just the briefest of moments, but her expression broke Sasha’s heart. The moment passed, the calm facade came back up, and the to women walked back to the Crystal Palace.

Ah, but let us speak more particularly of Kurt Volker, the dwarf whose name scarcely warrants a whisper amongst the tale of the Heroes Journey. A dwarf, seen as nothing more than an oddity—a second-class subject fulfilling his duties. But mark my words, and read the interviews with the Heroes themselves, and you’ll soon discover that it is Hero Volker who stands at the very heart of this band. It was he who, through bonds forged in the fires of loyalty and perseverance, united this motley crew. It was his unyielding spirit and tireless effort that held them together through the fiercest interparty clashes. Listen well to the accounts of the surviving Heroes. They speak of Hero Volker not merely as a comrade, but as a father. Yet the tale does him no justice. Why, you ask? Because the Jeweled Empire, with all its arrogance, could never bear to admit the debt it owes to a people it so ruthlessly subjugated. Regrettably, Hero Volker seems at peace with this reality. For years, he served our great Lord Ranier and risked his life time and again. Who am I to reproach him for choosing the comforts of a quieter life? Perhaps, it is for this reason that we no longer hear of Hero Acciaio. But take heart, for when Hero Volker’s son emerges, perhaps we shall find the rallying figure we need to rekindle the flame of independence for the Dwarven Kingdom. – The Masked One, leader of the Iron God’s Own dwarven independence movement

KURT

Kurt leaned against a jagged wall of a destroyed tenement house. Kurt wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. It didn’t help much. His clothing was soaked with sweat. These long battles were far more physically draining than he remembered. The thick smoke hanging over the city didn’t help. A person couldn’t catch his breath.

The fire started around midday. Kurt wanted to blame it on the Purists, but it could have just been easily a knocked over lantern. In the heat of battle, no one realized how bad the fire was until it burned out the shops and businesses in Low Market. The last Kurt heard it was working its way through the Alsoin and Promenade districts. Pallus was forced to send a couple hundred volunteers as an impromptu fire brigade. Much to Kurt’s surprise, the Purists weren’t attacking anyone busy fighting the fire, even if those fighting the fire were armed. Small favors.

“Two more blocks and we hit the Aponte Wall,” Chief Constable Dalan said, joining Kurt behind the ruined building. With Marteen missing, the chief constable was now the senior officer in the field. Dalan spent the better part of an hour leading a force of constables and some veterans against a probe by Purist heavy infantry. The Purists took heavier losses than Dalan’s men, but they could afford them. Kurt guessed the volunteers were down to maybe a third of their numbers, while the constables were closer to half. Kurt could see the strain in Dalan’s eyes of losing so many of his constables.

“Did you really think it wouldn’t be this bad?” Kurt asked. Dalan shrugged his shoulders. Battle cries echoed a couple streets over from yet another push by the Purists. The Edess Kul didn’t believe in giving the defenders any quarter if she could help it. Kurt heaved himself off the wall and trotted to the growing sounds of battle. Dalan ordered the few constables nearby to follow. By the time Kurt, Dalan, and the half-dozen armored constables reached the fight, the combat was little more than a general melee between Purists and volunteers. Kurt surveyed the scene for a moment and motioned for the constables to form up on his flanks. If they pushed back one corner, they might be able to roll the Purists back.

Kurt raised his shield and charged a Purist. The elf was too focused on trying to kill the volunteer in front of him. He never saw Kurt’s sword as it came down on his collarbone. As the Purist collapsed, the constables flowed into the small hole Kurt made. The hole was forced wider as the constables cut down Purists and the volunteers joined the momentum. Kurt kept himself as close to the front of the line as he could. Much to his chagrin, the volunteers fought harder when a Hero of the Empire was alongside them.

Kurt let his mind dwell on that thought an instant too long and the Purist in front of him took advantage of it. Kurt felt the Purist’s axe ride down along his shield before coming back up and biting deep into his side. The leather and chain kept the axe from opening Kurt’s flesh, but his ribs cracked under the weight of the blow. Kurt stumbled back and the elf pressed his attack. Kurt tried to open the distance by stabbing out with his sword. The Purist pivoted and came down with an overhand strike. Kurt barely managed to catch it on his shield with a ringing block the dwarf felt all the way to his shoulder. The Purist smiled and then screamed in pain as a sword punched through his torso.

Selene wiped the blood off her sword as the Purist collapsed into the street. Her armor was blood-splattered, but at least it looked like none of it was hers. She sheathed her sword and ran her hands over Kurt. He grunted as she touched his side. With a grimace, Selene spoke a prayer under her breath. Warmth spread across Kurt’s body. As it subsided, his pain went from intense to bearable.

“Not that I’m not grateful, Selene, but what are you doing here?” Kurt asked.

“Pallus’s orders. Everyone is to pull back to the Wall before nightfall. The paladins and I were sent out to bring back anyone I could,” Selene answered. She nodded to the fifty men in the green armor of the paladins tearing through the remnants of the Purists.

“I thought you were up at the Liopasto with Robar working at the hospital,” Kurt said as he followed her back to the Aponte Wall.

“My husband ordered me out of the hospital when the runner came looking for paladins,” Selene said in a flat tone. “As he eloquently stated, I’m needed here.” She stopped after a block and looked back at the burning city.

“Kurt, the Gold Gate is open,” Selene said. “Pallus wants you to report in at the Golden Observatory. I need to continue pulling people back to the Wall.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kurt said. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a sad smile.

“Sorry, but Pallus specifically said when I found Marteen or you, I was to send you along to report to him as soon as possible,” Selene said.

“Be careful out there Selene,” Kurt said. “It’s worse than any of the fights we were in during our last adventure.”

“Don’t worry Kurt, I’ve got plenty of experienced paladins with me. I fully intend on not getting in their way.”

Kurt motioned for the constables and the volunteers to follow him back to the Gold Gate. When the Wall was spun, the artisans left no openings. Instead, eight gateways were etched into the crystal of the wall. Even when the humans sealed away the world’s natural magic, the intricate gateways kept enough of their intrinsic magic to stay open. The Gold Gate was the largest and allowed the Boulevard of Light to continue into the Inner City. Kurt saw the sparkles of yellow energy that gave the gate its name a block before they reached the gate. Ragged and worn volunteers and constables trudged into the Inner City. Keeping order in front of the Golden Gate was a line of twenty musket-armed Crystal Guard. A stern-faced female paladin directed the detachment. Kurt guessed she was this Etan. She certainly looked competent enough. Kurt followed the line of defenders through the gate. Just inside the gate, the Knifehand pulled Kurt and Dalan aside.

“Thank the Goddess I found the two of you,” the Knifehand said, “Follow me.”

“Selene said I needed to go to the Observatory to talk with Pallus,” Kurt said.

“He’s not there. He’s at the Arrival Courtyard,” the Knifehand said.

“What’s he doing there?”

“You need to see for yourself,” the Knifehand answered, looking both relieved and worried at the same time. Kurt and Dalan traded confused looks.

“Mortan, why don’t you stay here for when Marteen shows up?” Kurt suggested. “Assuming Selene doesn’t fillet him when she finds him.” Arrival Courtyard was only a few blocks away from the Gold Gate. The Inner City’s side streets were remarkably clear of pedestrians.

Kurt paused as they neared the Arrival Courtyard. Pallus stood at the entrance with a man in the formal green and black uniform of the Capitol Army. Four gold arrowheads glittered on the man’s epaulets in the setting sun. A major, if Kurt remembered Imperial Army ranks.

“Where’s Marteen?” Pallus asked.

“I don’t know. The last time I saw him, Marteen was leading the firebrands to attack the Purists musketeers on the Boulevard of Light,” Kurt answered.

“Of course he would do that.”

“Who’s your friend?” Kurt motioned to the army officer. The officer braced to attention and saluted.

“Major Tark,” the officer introduced himself, “I am General Lopanes’s aide. He sent me ahead to coordinate the Capitol Army’s return with the Lisandra authorities.” Kurt’s eyes went wide.

“The Army’s returning?” Kurt asked.

“The Capitol Army will be coming through the gates starting at midnight. Every gate in the Inner City,” Pallus answered with a detached tone. “Our forces need to hold the Aponte Wall until morning, to give the Army time to organize.”

“Then we’re going to punch right through these motherless bastards and kill that Edess Kul bitch,” the major said.

“Yes, just so,” Pallus said, as if a child said spoken. “Chief Constable Dalan, would you please work with the major on the logistics of moving the Capitol Army through the Inner City?”

“Of course,” Dalan answered, flatly. “Major, let’s go talk with what’s left of my senior constables at the Imperial Gardens. They’ll have a better idea of the conditions right now.” As the two men walked off, Pallus turned back to Kurt.

“Shortly after the major came through the gate, the Diet declared a state of emergency,” Pallus said, “With that declaration, the Suprema sent the paladins to assist us. Unfortunately, we can’t raise the Barrier while any of the Aponte gates are still open.” Pallus looked back at the Wall and grimaced.

“Kurt, you should head back to the Crystal Palace. Get some food and some sleep. I’ll need you to help the Capitol Army when it pushes out into the Outer City. If there are any of the volunteers or the constables you recommend as scouts, please let me know. After you’ve had a chance to rest.” Kurt studied Pallus for a long moment.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Kurt said. “Something about the convenient return of the Army.”

“Yes,” Pallus said. Kurt didn’t press the issue. First, because it was probably something to do with elven family politics. Kurt made it a point to stay out of those. Secondly, because he suddenly realized exactly how hungry and tired he was the moment Pallus mentioned food and sleep. Kurt hoisted his sword onto his shoulder and walked down the street to the Crystal Palace.

The tale of the Heroes is one of extraordinary tenacity and resilience, particularly when you consider that their number was a mere ten. Among them was a cleric, bound by sacred vows from bearing arms, and a courtier, whose proficiency with a sword left much to be desired. Against formidable odds, they persevered through skirmishes with ruthless bandits and relentless ambushes orchestrated by the fanatical followers of Cull. These confrontations were not merely unfavorable; the Heroes faced adversaries who outnumbered them by three to one, and on occasion, as much as five to one. Despite these overwhelming challenges, the Heroes prevailed, driven by their diverse talents and unique strengths. Each member’s distinctive nature contributed to their collective triumph, enabling them to endure the perils and ultimately emerge victorious in that fateful cavern for their final showdown. – Scholar Den Dal, answer to student question during her seminar, “Lessons From The Heroes’ Journey”

MARTEEN

Marteen closed his eyes as the squire dumped the water bucket over his head. The sudden chill was refreshing. Marteen hated wearing crystal. The heavy armor slowed him down. Even during the Reclamation War, Marteen only wore hardened leather. Damn Sonya for insisting he wear the suit. Worse, he knew she was right for insisting. Marteen couldn’t stay in the back directing the combat like Pallus. If he was going to be in the fight, he might as well be a beacon to his troops. It didn’t make the armor any easier to wear. A waterskin was thrust into one hand with an odd food in the other. It was two pieces of toasted bread with a slab of ham in between. Marteen smelled onions and mustard.

“What’s this?” he asked the squire.

“A panino,” the boy answered. “It’s Mareian.” Marteen took a bite. Not bad. Simple and tasty. Why hadn’t an elf come up with something like this? Marteen wolfed down the food and washed it down with a long swig from the waterskin. Damn – just water. Kurt and Sonya were making sure he wouldn’t get a drop of anything stronger. It was just as well. He didn’t need drink to keep his memories from haunting him. Killing the bastards who murdered Ela did that just fine.

“Here you are,” Kurt said, exasperated.

“Why are you so annoyed at me?” Marteen asked.

“You’re supposed to be leading the defense of the Outer City,” Kurt said.

“I am leading the defense.”

“How? You’ve been too busy fighting to do any leading,” Kurt countered.

“I need to be in the middle of it,” Marteen said. “I need to be out there. I need to feel the flow of the fighting if I’m going to know how to fight these bastards.” Kurt let out a long breath.

“Feeling the flow of the battle is all fine and good, but you’re not making decisions out there. You’re just fighting,” Kurt said, “Dalan is moving people around to plug the gaps, but he doesn’t have your experience in real combat. He thinks like a constable, not a soldier.”

“Dalan’s doing fine. We’re holding the Pursits,” Marteen said. Kurt grabbed the front of Marteen’s armor and yanked the elf down to his face.

“I know why you want to be out there, but Princess Illana ordered you to lead the defense, and you told that girl you would do so.”

“I made a mistake!” Marteen yelled at Kurt. “I thought I could stand back and direct like Pallus, but I can’t.” Marteen growled with frustration. He couldn’t explain to his friend how much he needed to feel the Purists fall under his swords, watch them die, and know he was paying back the debt he owed to Ela for leaving her in that place to be killed by these monsters.

“Hero Madrigal!” yelled one of the squires, pointing at a pair of bloody constables staggering into the square. Marteen and Kurt walked over to the two men as others brought healing supplies.

“Hero Madrigal, the Purist musketeers broke through,” reported the less injured constable as he dragged his comrade into the square. “The humans are slowing them down, but they’ve pushed through our companies at Anolim Street.” Marteen nodded at the news and motioned Kurt off to the side. The dwarf looked grim, but he always looked that way during a battle. Dwarves always thought the world was caving in on them.

“If the Purists are already at Anolim, they will roll us up to the wall before we can stop them,” Kurt said. Why did Kurt always have to state the obvious? Marteen gambled the Edess Kul wouldn’t risk her musket-armed troops in the mess of the Outer City. Well, that turned out wrong, so now it was time to try another gamble.

“Get the firebrands over here,” Marteen ordered one of the squires. The boy sprinted out of the square.

“Why under the God of Iron would you want those fools?” Kurt asked. “We pulled them off the line because they were causing problems.” Marteen smiled at Kurt. The dwarf didn’t understand. Marteen didn’t pull them because of the complaints. He pulled the firebrands because he wanted to save them for an occasion like this.

“Kurt, tell Dalan to regroup as many constables as he can around Mill Street,” Marteen said, “Axe will need to pull the volunteers out of Marketplace to shrink the line enough. He’s not going to like it, but at least we’ll have another dozen blocks or so before hitting the Wall.”

“Why am I telling them and not you?” Kurt asked.

“Because I’m taking the firebrands and stopping those troops.” Much to Marteen’s surprise, Kurt didn’t even argue.

One of the nice things about having Dalan directing things was that the old constable understood the need for clear avenues for moving around. Although, it was still slightly disturbing to see the normally bustling streets of the Lisandra completely deserted. Marteen led the firebrands towards the sound of the gunfire. Finally, he found the spot that felt right.

Marteen raised head just above the roof’s ridge. The Purists didn’t use the colorful uniforms like the human armies, but they certainly had the precision in their march. He saw far too many formations like that one when the Republican and Kingdom armies tried to hold back the Army of Reclamation. Marteen was willing to bet Reclamation veterans were leading those firing lines.

“They’re coming just as you said they would, Hero Madrigal,” Kann Lykal said before crouching back down behind the slope of the roof. “Two lines of twenty. Just about fill the boulevard.” Kann was typical of the firebrands. He was the third, or maybe fourth, son of one of the northern lords, and desperate for glory. The thirty or so lordlings scattered along the rooftops with Marteen were all trying to earn renown in the Battle of Lisandra. They didn’t have the patience to stand in the line of battle with the other volunteers, they were too untrained to lead. Yet, they were all proven fighters. They just needed someone to give them a little guidance and a target to fight in their unrestrained manner.

“Wait until those bastards are under us,” Marteen said to the firebrands. “Any of you get too eager, and you’ll give them a chance to use those muskets. Believe me, you do not want to get hit by one of those.” The young men around him nodded like he said something truly profound. Then again, maybe he did, in their eyes. He certainly thought his leaders back in the Reclamation Army were wise and profound instead of the proud fools they turned out to be. Marteen ducked back down and drew his two swords. He counted down in his head.

Five, four, three, two, one! Marteen leapt, slid down the roof’s tiles, and pounced on the Purists below him. The firebrands followed him into the fray. There were no screams of battle. Battlecries had their uses, but there was something disconcerting about warriors who killed wordlessly. Another trick Marteen learned from the humans. Two Purists died as Marteen landed. The Purists screamed in surprise and tried to bring their muskets down to fire. It was too late. The firebrands were already among them. Marteen badly wanted to surrender to the dance and tear through the Purists, but he needed to keep his clarity for a little longer. In less than a minute, the firebrands slaughtered the Purist musketeers. Marteen looked back and smiled. The next group of Purists stopped to bring their muskets down.

“Grab them,” Marteen commanded, pointing at the dead. Marteen stood in the middle as the firebrands held up their shields of dead men. Muskets in the Purist firing lines wavered as they saw the firebrands coming at them from behind the cover of what had been their comrades. It didn’t last long. Thunder sounded, and the boulevard filled with thick, gray smoke. Marteen heard the cracks of musket balls whipping by him and the thuds as some of the balls hit the corpses. One of the firebrands screamed in pain as a musket ball found a target.

Marteen reached the Purist firing line without being hit. That was surprising. The Purists’ muskets were supposed to be much better than those he faced during the Reclamation War. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he stepped in front of one of the Purists. The familiar rage filled him, and Marteen danced. First the Southern style. His paired swords spun, cutting down the Purists. As the firebrands joined him in the fighting, Marteen switched to Mountain Reach. Much better for close quarter fighting. The two Purists in front of him were caught flatfooted by the sudden switch. Marteen cut them down as if they were the strawmen he practiced against when he was a boy.

CRAAACK! A ragged volley came down the boulevard. Two firebrands fell to the ground screaming. Marteen spun to the firing lines down the boulevard. Well, that didn’t take as long as Marteen expected. He thought his little band would get through the third firing party before the Purists decided to fire on their own people.

“Forward!” Marteen yelled, sprinting at the Purist firing lines. The key to fighting muskets was getting in close. Speed was life. Distance was death. Several firebrands sprinted by him. One was cut down by a Purist who was quick on his reload. The firebrands slammed into the firing line with swords slashing.

“Cut through them!” Marteen yelled as he spun and slashed. “Get to the next line before they set up!” Four Purists lay bleeding on the ground. Marteen looked back. That didn’t seem right. The next lines were farther back than he expected – and there were more than there should be. Realization flashed and Marteen realized his error.

“Scatter!” he screamed. The firebrands finished their fights and dashed to the buildings lining the boulevard. Some of them reached doors and alleys before the Purists opened fire. Marteen had the briefest instant to wonder if the crystal plates would shatter before dozens of musket balls hammered into him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gather ’round and hear the tale of Foxfire Ridge. A tale that nearly spelled the doom of the Fifth Legion and the rending asunder of the Great Allied Army. The cunning elves outmaneuvered the Southlanders and found their way to the very heart of the Allied forces. But fate, as it so often does, intervened in the form of a humble shepherdess, herded no less than the very winds of change with her flock. It was she who, with unyielding resolve, set her beloved paddock aflame, signaling the rangers with billowing smoke. Thus were the forty-three rangers brought forth, standing firm and steadfast upon the ridge for three days and three nights against the elven horde. Yet it was not these valiant rangers alone who turned the tide of battle. No, the true heroine of this tale is none other than that selfless shepherdess, whose name remains unknown. The rangers, in their gratitude, sought her name in vain. They could only pay tribute by calling themselves the Shepherdess’s Children, in honor of her bravery and sacrifice. – Knight Alonis, chronicler of the Great Allied Army, “The In-Between Stories of The Reclamation War”

RIN

“The Protector damn Marteen,” Rin swore as he ducked into a deserted restaurant. “What was he thinking with that attack?” The Edess Kul wasn’t stupid. As soon as Marteen’s insane attack on the trebuchets was pushed back, she followed up with a fast counterattack. Purist musket troops marched in companies down the main boulevard, stopping only long enough to kill whoever got in their way. Farther up the street came the ragged, throaty cracks of the Purists’ volley. It didn’t sound like the defenders were faring well.

“To his credit, Hero Madrigal’s plan did manage to destroy the trebuchets,” Morelli answered in a whisper. “They didn’t manage to crack the Aponte Wall. That’s got to have screwed up her plans.”

“It may have disrupted her initial plan, but it won’t stop her. If the Edess Kul can’t break the Aponte Wall, she’s going to use it like an anvil, with her good troops as the hammer,” Rin said.

“How do you know that?” Morelli asked.

“It’s what I would do in her place,” Rin answered. Why did the Edess Kul seem so familiar? They sat in silence as another two companies of Purists marched by. Another kilometer until the Purist camp. Then, find Shafford and deal with him. Maybe they could deal with the other Acolytes while they were in the camp. Rin peeked out the restaurant door. He looked up and down the street. Rin couldn’t see any more Purist musket men, but he heard the echoes of marching. The two rangers needed to get around the attack so they could sneak into the Purist camp. Grunting, Rin crouched behind an overturned table. Not the best cover, but it would give him some concealment if the Purists decided to loot the store.

“Those bastards are damned good for a bunch of religious fanatics,” Morelli whispered as they heard the Purists unleash another volley against the defenders.

“Yeah, but it sounds like our brothers are giving them hell,” Rin said as the higher pitched cracks of rifles replied to the volley. “They must be raising havoc among those Purists.”

“Will they be enough to blunt this attack?” Morelli asked.

“It wouldn’t be the first time rangers pushed back an elven attack all by themselves,” Rin answered. “We even have the less than fifty rangers against hundreds of elves.”

“I’m not sure our allies would like to be reminded of Foxfire Ridge,” Morelli replied.

“I have a feeling some of the Reclamation Army veterans will pick up the similarities all on their own,” Rin said. A series of deep booms stopped their conversation. It sounded a lot like heavy cannon.

“What under the Protector’s Eyes? Did the Capitol Army finally make it back?” Rin asked.

“No, I think the Purists got a bit too close to the docks,” Morelli said.

“Huh?”

“Our merchantmen aren’t about to let another Night of Fire and Blood happen again. That sounded like they just laced Dockyard Avenue with cannister.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Rin said. He didn’t have much experience with artillery. Not enough to pick out the differences in the booms between the different types.

The front door banged open. Two Purists were silhouetted in the doorway as they swept the interior of the restaurant with their muskets. Morelli touched off both barrels of his grapegun. The two Purists went down under the hail of pellets. A third Purist stormed into the doorway. Rin took him down with a rifle shot. The two rangers retreated to the back of the restaurant as they reloaded their weapons. Dozens of musket barrels sprouted in the doorway. Rin pushed Morelli to the ground as the Purists fired. Already deafened from the grapegun and rifle shot, the muskets sounded like they were on the other side of the street. Rin emptied his revolver into the Purists at the door as the two rangers stood up and fled into the kitchen. Morelli kicked open the restaurant’s back door and quickly checked to make sure the alley was clear. They sprinted out of the building.

“Head that way!” Rin shouted pointing towards the Purist camp. Morelli nodded, and they sprinted through the back alleys of Lisandra.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Reclamation Army, a motley crew of seasoned veterans from the Daemon War and green recruits with only basic training, found themselves thrust into the crumbling expanse of the Southern Empire. Their fortune lay in the disarray of the lands they first sought invaded. Yet, even the fragmented and warring tribes, each vying to carve out their own dominions, managed to exact a toll far heavier than anticipated. The ominous signs were there, but the leaders of the Reclamation Army chose to ignore them, attributing the losses to the inexperience of their sword fodder. Some generals even went so far as to claim that the bloodshed was a necessary evil, a means to separate the wheat from the chaff. In a grim twist of fate, they were not entirely wrong. The brutal lessons learned in the Southlands’ skirmishes were the very crucible that tempered the Reclamation Army. Without these harsh experiences, they would have faced annihilation when the disciplined legions of the Mareian Republic and the formidable knights of the Northern Kingdom emerged from the steppe. – Bens Kir, Foreward to “The Reclamation Army – A History”

KURT

Kurt cracked a Purist’s head with an offhand blow while deflecting another’s sword with his shield. Kurt grunted at the impact. Mad God, he just barely managed to get his shield up in time. He was getting too old to be in the thick of combat.

“Except Marteen has to be in the center of the fighting, and for some stupid reason, I have to go with him,” Kurt muttered as the Purist tried to skewer him again. Kurt slammed his heavy blade down on the elf’s sword and snapped it at the hilt. The Purist just stopped and stared at his broken weapon. The dwarf broke the Purist’s collarbone and his right knee with a pair of fast blows. Kurt stepped over the screaming Purist. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon. No sense wasting any more energy.

The plan was simple. Poke the Purists around the trebuchets enough to get them to chase the volunteers and the constables back into narrower streets where the veterans among the volunteers and constables would have an easier time defeating the Purists in detail. The plan worked at first. The Purists’ discipline dissolved when the veterans ambushed them in the tight confines of Lisandra’s outer city.

Kurt held a glimmer of hope Marteen’s mad scheme would work. That lasted right up until that bitch Edess Kul sent in heavy reinforcements from the trebuchet camp. The volunteers would have routed, but Marteen personally led the defense. The Scythe appearing in the middle of the fighting somehow kept the line from completely breaking. Kurt heard the stories from the Reclamation War, but he never really believed them until Marteen anchored a line that held off nearly three times its own number. Shortly after that, Kurt got split off with a small group of volunteers into a street melee with some Purists. That melee was done with both sides taking heavy casualties.

“Here you are Kurt,” Marteen said, emerging from the melee. Blood coated the elf’s crystal armor. A small puddle formed at Marteen’s feet. “I thought maybe you were off taking a nap.” Kurt grimaced as he saw the look in the elf’s eyes.

“Damn it Marteen, this is not a time for your madness,” Kurt snarled. “The volunteers are getting slaughtered by those Purist reinforcements. The constables are barely holding their own. I sent what was left to root out the last of the first rabble to open up an avenue of retreat.”

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine,” Marteen said as he casually sidestepped a Purist lunging at him. In one fluid motion, Marteen turned and decapitated the soldier.

Kurt’s retort was cut off as a fresh platoon of halberd-armed Purists marched into the melee. Marteen, with a predatory smile on his face, danced into the new arrivals. Kurt and the volunteers around him were transfixed by Marteen’s dance. None could look away as the Purist platoon melted under his attack. As Kurt watched Marteen’s movements, he realized what was bothering him. There was a manic edge to Marteen’s dance. It was something Kurt hadn’t seen before – not even in the most desperate fights against Cull’s Red and Black. The Purist soldiers tried to flee, but Marteen continued to hack them down with his whirlwind.

“Marteen, stop!” Kurt shouted, wading into the melee. Kurt shouted again as he slipped on blood and spilled innards. Marteen spun on him. The blade stopped less than an inch from Kurt’s face. The predatory grin was now a rictus smile.

“Enough Marteen,” Kurt said, “We can’t make it to the trebuchets, and I’m not going to sacrifice our people just to indulge your sudden desire to kill every Purist around us.”

“Why not? It’s not like they deserve mercy,” Marteen said, bitterly. Kurt saw the pain behind the elf’s rage. Gripping the elf’s armor, Kurt dragged Marteen back down the street.

“You’ve never killed just to kill, Marteen,” Kurt said.

“I’m killing those Purists to protect Lisandra,” Marteen said, nearly shouting at Kurt.

“No, you’re not,” Kurt said, “You’re just trying to kill as many of them as you can.”

“What does it matter, so long as the Purists are beaten?”

“Because of what it will do to you!” Kurt answered, punching Marteen in the chest. Marteen rocked back from the blow and fell to the cobblestones. The elf stared dumbfounded at Kurt.

“It took years of Rin, Ela, and me working with you to marginally heal your wounds from the Reclamation War. You tell everyone that it’s because of what you saw and felt in the Badlands, but we both know it was more than that. It was fighting in a war where you did things you still regret. I do not want to see you go back down that dark hole again!”

“I’m not going to regret killing Purists!”

“Did you think at the time you would regret sacking those human towns?” Marteen stopped as if Kurt punched him in the nose. The two old friends stared at each other. The volunteers around them didn’t dare interrupt the stand-off. Loud explosions thundered down the street. Kurt whipped his head around trying to find who was attacking. More explosions roared. Kurt finally located the explosions’ origin and saw the trebuchets collapsing. Smoke and fire rose into the sky. Marteen chuckled and then erupted in manic laughter. Kurt looked between Marteen and the rising smoke. Marteen stood up and punched Kurt’s shoulder.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Marteen said, still laughing. “I listened when my sister was teaching Rin and Pallus. What did she always tell the boys if they hunted big prey?”

“Make it focus on what you want it to see, so the first time it notices your knife is when it’s in its ribs,” Kurt said. “What did you do, Marteen?”

“Well, while we were busy here killing Purists, the Knifehand’s assassins were busy setting that up,” Marteen answered, pointing to where the trebuchets were collapsing. “That black powder the humans use makes a lot more noise than I thought.”

“So, we wasted all of these lives on a distraction?” Kurt bellowed.

“If you want to look at it that way,” Marteen answered, shrugging his shoulders. “We also put down a good payment of what I owe these bastards for murdering Ela.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

If ever there was a twist of fate worthy of a ballad, it is the story of Pallus Parn. Imagine this: a young hero, destined for greatness, apprenticed under the legendary Marteen the Scythe in the art of swordplay. Picture him honing his tactical prowess under the watchful eyes of both Jevin the Fallen and Ela the Huntress. And if that weren’t enough, envision him soaking in the subtleties of political maneuvering from his very own father, the venerable Chancellor Parn. Upon their triumphant return, everyone expected Hero Parn to take his rightful place as the regent to the princess, perhaps even her betrothed. It seemed the stage was set for a tale of noble ascension. But then, our hero made the curious decision to lead the Crystal Guard. Yes, most hailed it as a fitting honor, but my dears, I always suspected otherwise. Why, you ask? What prompted such a move? Whispers in the corridors suggest a connection to the enigmatic disappearance of Hero Acciaio. – Irjin Tindi, society matron, excerpt from an interview for “The Lisandra Times”

SASHA

Sasha poured herself a cup of tea as she focused on composing herself. The range of the siege engines shocked all those in the Golden Observatory. As soon as he realized what the Purists were attempting, Pallus sent a runner to the Sacellum to ask the Suprema if the Aponte Wall could be damaged by those large metal balls. Of course, Pallus wouldn’t have needed to send a runner if one of the Heads – or the Suprema herself – were in the Golden Observatory with them.

“What is that damned fool doing?” Pallus asked through gritted teeth.

“Who?” asked Sasha.

“Marteen. He’s taking a piddling force against those trebuchets,” Pallus said.

“She’s confused as well,” Sasha said. She motioned to where the Edess Kul stood watching the battle from a hastily erected observation tower. The woman’s face was hidden by her trademark black mask, but the body language betrayed her consternation.

“She’s going to send that force Marteen, Kurt, and Rin were trailing up the Boulevard of Light,” Pallus said.

“What makes you say that?” Sonya asked.

“They are the only Purists with muskets,” Pallus answered. “The boulevard is wide enough they can form up proper firing lines. She can march those troops all the way to the Aponte Wall because they will tear through any of Marteen’s cobbled together forces.”

“If she does that, her forces will get too close to the Mareian merchant ships at the docks,” Princess Illana said.

“She may not believe they will involve themselves in an Imperial fight. Or her troops can weather what those merchants can unleash.” Sasha smiled at Pallus’s annoyed tone.

“Try not to let your prejudices show,” she whispered into his ear.

“Everything those Mareians do for us will be a favor owed. And we both know how the Mareians feel about people owing them favors.”

“Please don’t say that where Rin can hear. The last thing we need is the two of you bickering again,” the princess said. The girl was getting far too good at walking quietly.

“With all due respect, your highness, Rin and I would never let our ‘bickering’ interfere with our duty,” Pallus said.

“The two of you certainly had enough practice at bickering while fighting,” Sasha said, with a hint of laughter in her voice. Pallus glared at Sasha, but it only made her laugh.

“Now is not the time for rehashing old disagreements,” Pallus said.

“Lady Sonya, I don’t feel right,” Princess Illana said. Sasha whirled around at the princess’s tone just in time to see her collapse into her chair. Sasha dashed across the Observatory to the princess’s side.

“What happened?” Sasha asked as she did a quick examination. The girl didn’t wince in pain, but she looked pale.

“I don’t know. It was like all my strength evaporated,” Princess Illana said. She tried to rise but fell back into her chair exhausted.

“Get the princess to her rooms now!” Pallus commanded the Crystal Guards in the Observatory. “Call for a cleric to meet you in her rooms.”

“No, I need to be here,” Princess Illana said through gasps of air.

“Your highness, you can barely sit up,” Sasha said. “You’ve never had something like this happen to you before, and suddenly you go weak right when the Purists show up?”

“But Rin,” the princess protested.

“When he returns, we’ll send him to you,” Pallus said. He looked at Sasha. “You best go with her.”

“What about the battle?” Sasha asked.

“I would welcome your presence and your advice here, but the princess must come first.” Sasha pushed down the flutter from Pallus’s words. How many times had she wanted to hear that kind of sentiment from Marteen? Wished Marteen would look at her like Pallus was looking at her at that moment?

“Thank you,” Sasha said, as tenderly as she could manage. She followed the Crystal Guardsman who carried the princess down to the Imperial Quarters.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It remains a mystery how Marteen the Scythe and Ela the Huntress found themselves on a modest farm in the heart of the dwarven lands. Yet, upon closer reflection, one cannot help but sense the invisible hand of the Goddess at work. It seems that the divine foresight knew the Madrigal siblings would be summoned to undertake the perilous mission of rescuing the Crystal Blood. Thus, they were sent to a place that would temper and mold them into the heroes they needed to become. Why else, indeed, would two dwarves accompany them on this momentous journey to save an elven princess? – Jol Kol, excerpt from “The Heroes’ Journey”

KURT

Kurt twisted his shoulders to loosen the straps on his armor. He didn’t remember the leather and chain being so tight across his chest. Or so heavy. He certainly didn’t remember the armor being so damn hot. It didn’t help Marteen looked comfortable in his much heavier crystal plate armor. Kurt trundled over to where Marteen was talking with Chief Constable Dalan, Major Agnelli, and Rin. The group was standing on the roof of the five-story Bank of Lisandra building. It was the tallest building outside of Aponte Hill and provided the best view of the Purists.

“You’ve brought what, ten rangers?” Marteen asked the human major.

“Twelve, including Sergeant Acciaio and Corporal Morelli,” Major Agnelli replied sharply, “It’s what I could legitimately commit. The embassy is treading on very shaky ground, Hero Madrigal. Technically, my rangers are assisting local volunteers in a covering action so Rangers Acciaio and Morelli can hunt down a wanted sorcerer to bring back to the Republic. I can’t turn out my entire cadre and leave the embassy without any rangers for one suspect. If I were strictly following regulations, with the threat posed by the Purists, I would need to bring all of my rangers inside the walls to assist our guards."

Marteen scowled but didn’t protest further. He spent several silent moments watching the outer city. Several of the wide boulevards and many of the narrower side streets were full of people fleeing towards the protection of the Aponte Wall. Whatever constables Dalan could spare trying to direct the flood. Fortunately, the constables were quietly supplemented by several dozen of the Knifehand’s men in “borrowed” constable uniforms.

“The volunteers are chomping at the bit. The inexperienced ones, at least,” said a new, deep voice. A short but powerfully built elf in traditional chain and leather armor stepped onto the roof. Sergeant Axe, so called because of the pair of half-moon battle-axes at his belt, commanded the three volunteer companies. Putting a sergeant, even a veteran like Axe, in charge would normally rankle the lesser nobles among the volunteers. Except for the small fact Sergeant Axe earned a reputation second only to Marteen the Scythe during the War of Reclamation. Even the rangers gave the stocky elf a wary respect.

“To be expected,” Dalan said. “Most have no idea what’s coming.”

“The Knifehand’s folks take care of their scouts?” Marteen asked.

“We think so, but either the Purists sent in fewer scouts this morning, or the Knifehand’s people missed a few,” Dalan answered. In an odd twist of necessity, the Knifehand’s thugs and assassins working in the outer city were reporting to Dalan and his senior constables. Dalan was shocked when his favorite fruit vendor showed up at his door earlier in the morning to hand over a bag of ears from Purist scouts. Dalan was sure the old man took a few of the ears himself.

“Major, can your rangers play scouts and harassers?” Marteen asked.

“It’s what we’re good at doing.”

Marteen barked harsh laughter completely devoid of any mirth. Kurt only heard Marteen laugh that way on a few occasions. It was never a good omen.

“Yes, I remember quite well,” Marteen said and traded a knowing look with Sergeant Axe. Their reminiscence was broken by the whoosh of heavy objects hurtling overhead. Kurt looked up to catch a glimpse of a large iron ball, about the size of an ale cask, sailing over the building. Kurt watched as it punched cleanly through a three-story apartment building about five hundred yards from them. The building shuttered before collapsing into the street.

“How under the Goddess are they doing that?” Marteen shouted. “That was nearly a two-mile shot with a trebuchet! Not even cannons fire that far.”

“Magic,” Rin answered.

“The Goddess would never allow Her grace to be used like that,” Marteen said.

“Didn’t say it was the Goddess’s magic,” Rin said.

“If you’re correct, that would be confirmation Shafford is on the field of battle,” Major Agnelli said, “You and the corporal best see to that, Sergeant.” Rin braced to attention before dashing back down the stairs. Four more iron balls passed overhead. They destroyed a glazier, a silversmith, and a general store. Smoke rose from the wreckage of the glazier. Dalan ran to the stairwell and yelled at his subordinates to get a fire party out. Marteen traced the arcs of the artillery and let out a stream of curses.

“The Aponte Wall,” Marteen said once he managed to exhaust his inventory of swear words. “They’re trying to crack the Aponte Wall.”

“That’s impossible,” Dalan said, “Nothing can crack the wall.”

“They think they can,” Marteen observed.

“What happens if they do crack the wall?” Axe asked.

“Ask Selene, but I’m willing to bet a thousand Imperials the Barrier couldn’t be raised,” Kurt answered. “If I remember correctly, the wall is just a large focus object for the magic of the Barrier.”

“But the wall is impregnable,” Dalan argued.

“The wall’s tough, but anything can be breached, given enough time,” Kurt said. “It’s one of the reasons the Empire always made sure to keep the dwarven lands under their thumb. Given enough time, we could figure out how to break any jewel-spun structure.” The elves stared at Kurt in shock.

“Do you think they have dwarves with them?” Dalan asked incredulously.

“The Purists are worse than most elves in how they regard dwarves,” Kurt answered bluntly. “The point I was making is these people could have figured out a way to break the wall. Especially if they are magic.”

“I need a company of volunteers and a company of constables and some of the Knifehand’s better thugs,” Marteen said.

“You’re getting that wild look in your eye again. What are you planning?” Kurt asked cautiously.

“I thought we’d stroll over and take out those trebuchets,” Marteen answered.

“Marteen, there are four thousand Purists between us and those siege engines,” Kurt said with exaggerated patience. “You cannot attack four thousand with less than five hundred and expect to do anything other than get everyone killed.”

“Relax Kurt, I know what I’m doing,” Marteen said, with his characteristic smile firmly in place. Damn the man. Why couldn’t he stay the calm professional for a bit longer? Worse, the others accepted his mad scheme.

“If you get me killed elf, I’m going to pull you out of Paradise and drag you to the Dark Cavern with me,” Kurt said. Marteen just laughed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hear the words of the ecclesiasts who proclaim that love is the greatest blessing bestowed upon us by the Goddess. And indeed, it may be so. Yet, let us not be blind to the full nature of Her gift, for it is not a blessing purely benevolent. Consider, if you will, love as a sword—crafted for both defense and destruction. Love, in its divine essence, has the power to fortify the soul or to strike it down with grievous force. As we cast our gaze upon the annals of history, we discern manifold instances where love has ushered forth both glorious triumphs and heart-wrenching tragedies. Thus, we are not called to be skeptics of love, but rather to behold it in all its profound complexity. Only by recognizing the perils entwined with love can we truly extol its virtues. By understanding that love may cast us into despair, we can more fervently rejoice when it elevates our spirits, when it transforms us into better beings than we were before love graced our lives. For in acknowledging the danger, we find the strength to cherish the goodness of love, and in doing so, we honor the Goddess who bestowed it upon us. Let us therefore embrace love with hearts open and eyes unclouded, ever mindful of its dual nature, that we may revel in its blessings and stand firm against its trials. Thus, shall we fulfill the divine purpose and ascend in virtue, as befits the children of the Goddess. – Ecclesiast Callus Gai, an excerpt from his sermon “Meditations on the Blessing of the Goddess”

RIN

Rin trudged into Eldar’s Court well past nightfall. Kurt was waiting for him with that familiar reproachful look. Rin half-expected the dwarf to have his belongings and a lecture waiting for him. Instead, Kurt handed Rin a mug of ale.

“How much trouble am I in?” Rin asked. Kurt chuckled.

“A bit,” Kurt answered, “How did your hunting go?”

“The Purists had a stronger guard out than we expected. Major Agnelli ordered us back before they knew we were there,” Rin answered. “I didn’t even get to kill any of them. A couple of the others managed to take down a few Purists skulking around in the outskirts. Better hunting tomorrow.” Rin gulped down the ale.

“I know you’re disappointed, but I’m glad you the major pulled you back,” Kurt said.

“How did Illana’s speech to the volunteers go?” Rin asked cautiously.

“Better than expected,” Kurt said, “I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. The girl has years of experience in getting people to do what she wants. She just needed to learn which levers to pull with the volunteers. Most of them were ready to charge out against the Purists by the time she was done. We even managed to sign up another few hundred volunteers.” Kurt took the empty mug from Rin and set it on the ground. Then, he grabbed his foster son in a powerful embrace.

“I love you son,” Kurt said.

“Love you too, you old dwarf,” Rin said. He looked up the stairs. “I guess I should get up there.” Kurt laid a restraining hand on Rin.

“Rin, Illana’s a strong girl, but she’s also fragile in many ways,” Kurt said, “If she comes on strong, don’t try to match her. It’d be like two hammers hitting each other.” Rin nodded and made his way back up to the Imperial Quarters.

Illana was sitting on the bed when he walked into the consort’s chambers. Her expression was regally neutral, but her eyes were red and her makeup destroyed. Rin carefully undid his weapons belt and laid it on the writing desk. The advice from Morelli and Kurt was swirling in his head as he walked up to the Imperial Quarters. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He was terrified he was going to say the wrong thing. He reached out for their link and found it full of fear and anger.

“Are you going to leave me again as soon as you capture Shafford?” Illana asked when he turned around.

“That’s not up to me,” Rin admitted, “If the major orders me to take Shafford back to Marei, then yes, I will have to leave again.”

“Why? Why would you do that to us?”

“It’s my duty.”

“Am I less than your duty?” Illana screamed, launching to her feet. Rin felt his own anger rise, but he bit back his retort. There was so much fear in their connection. From both of them. He took a deep breath. He thought back on Kurt’s advice not to meet her anger. Rin took a calming breath and tried a different tack.

“Did you know my paternal grandmother tried to have me killed less than a day after I returned to the Republic?” Rin asked. Illana blinked at the apparent non sequitur.

“Your grandmother tried to kill you?”

“Not with her own hands. She ordered her retainers to kill me.” Illana looked horrified at the idea. Rin guided her back to the bed and laid down next to her. The fear and anger were lessened in their connection.

“Why would your own grandmother want to murder you?” Illana asked. “She’d never even set eyes on you until then.” Rin gave Illana a sad smile.

“When I returned to Marei, I went to my paternal family home. I thought they would take me in. I was so hurt from being told I wasn’t wanted in the Empire, I guess I was looking for someone to help fill that gaping hole.”

“You will tell me who told you that you weren’t wanted here,” Illana said.

“I will, but not now. Right now, let me finish this story.” Illana nodded, but Rin could see in her eyes and through their connection she would not let the matter drop so easily.

“My grandmother’s staff let me in the house. I was so nervous when they told me my grandmother would come down to meet me. They knew exactly who I was. I took that as a sign that I would be accepted. Then she came into the salon. Looking back, my instincts were telling me something was wrong, but I didn’t listen to them. I let my hope drown out the warnings. So, my grandmother sat down and fixed me with a very cold stare. She asked me who I was. That cold and aloof manner shattered she heard my name. She railed at me for being named after ‘that whore’s father.’ She berated me for being the spawn of an ungrateful son who had the gall to die in some far off land instead of returning to the family. Preferably without that ‘gold-digging, whore of a wife.’ As she spouted this, I just sat there. I didn’t know what to do. Maybe if I knew more about how Mariean Great Families worked, it would have turned out differently.”

“What do you mean? What could you have done?”

“I could have calmed her down if I denounced my father for going against her and begged for her forgiveness. Looking back, I realized her senior guardsman and her butler were subtly telling me to do that.”

“Why would you have to beg forgiveness? You were just a child when they died.”

“Yes, but among the Great Families, the sins of the father pass down to the son. If I did what I could to atone, maybe she would have accepted me. I don’t know. I was young, hurt, hungry, and completely oblivious to how Mariean servants subtly hint about proper etiquette. Instead, I treated her like I did every elf lord who berated me for being human. I looked her straight in the eye and thanked her for showing me why my father would rather die in a foreign land with my mother than spend a second in this house with her.”

“That was enough to make her want to kill you?”

“It might have been, but what set her off was when I commented that I should really learn about this Protector she kept swearing to because I’d never heard that He told his people to be so petty and vindictive as she was being. Unless, of course, she was hoping her god would somehow make her heart grow back. Apparently, questioning her faith was pushing just a bit too far. She declared vendetta and ordered her guards to kill me.”

“How did you survive?” Illana asked.

“They expected me to be like my father. I don’t know a lot about my father, but from the little I do know, he wasn’t a fighter. He was a merchant. He learned just enough sword work to fit into polite company among the Great Families. Which wouldn’t be anywhere as good as trained guards.”

“And you were Rin Acciaio,” Illana said. “One of the Heroes of the Empire.”

“Less Hero and more student of Marteen the Scythe,” Rin said. “He always taught me to readily accept reality when violence was at hand. I didn’t know what vendetta was at that time, but I know what to do when people are trying to kill me. I put Marteen’s lessons to good use, took down the closest guard, grabbed his sword, and cut my way out of that house. As I was fleeing the surviving guards, I ran into a friend of my mother. He heard I returned and came looking for me before I ran into my grandmother. He showed up just in time to put the fear of the Protector into the guards still chasing me. He was able to do that because he wore one of these gold stars.” Rin tapped the star on the breast of his tunic.

“Before the end of the day, I was recruited into the rangers,” Rin finished. He looked deep into Illana’s pale blue eyes. They were filled with tears.

“So, you lost your human family after losing your family here,” Illana said.

“No, that’s not what I was trying to say. That woman is not my family. The rangers are my family. The rangers gave me a home when, as far as I knew, everyone else I loved deserted or betrayed me. They let me be my own man. I don’t know if I can explain how precious that is to me. I wasn’t promoted to sergeant because of what some prophecy said or because of whose blood I shared. I was a sergeant because I proved I was capable enough to perform the duties of the rank. The rangers earned my loyalty to them, and I can’t turn my back on my duty to them. I will not break faith with them.”

“So where does that leave me in your life?” Illana asked in a small voice.

“Right here,” Rin said, pointing at his heart.

“Then, why would you leave?” Illana asked. Rin was quiet for a moment. She was almost there. He could see it in her eyes.

“Illana, what would you do if I asked you to leave Lisandra right now? To go with me back to the Republic? To be my wife on a farm deep in the steppe where no one would know us?” Rin asked. Illana sucked in her breath as her eyes grew wide.

“Are you asking me?” Illana said in a very quiet and nervous voice. Rin waited a long moment before answering. He wanted to give one answer, but he knew he needed to give the other.

“No,” Rin answered. Their connection flooded with both relief and disappointment.

“As much as I want to ask you to do that right now, I wouldn’t put you in that position,” Rin said.

“Thank you,” Illana whispered, “I didn’t realize how tempting the thought could be until you said it. However, since you turned back up and cleared out so much of the anger inside me, I see what I need to do. I couldn’t leave everyone when they’re doing so much.”

“I’m the opposite,” Rin said.

“What do you mean?” Illana asked.

“Being around you clears my anger but clouds my sense of duty. I don’t want to leave, but I know I can’t betray those who put their trust in me.” Silence filled the room as the two just held each other.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated for us?” Illana asked. Rin thought it was a rhetorical question until Illana rolled over on top of him and looked up at him with her blue eyes silently demanding an answer.

“I blame you,” Rin said, with a teasing tone. He grunted as she punched him in the side.

“I’m serious, Rin,” Illana said. He stroked her cheek as he thought.

“I don’t know,” Rin said after a few moments. “Selene would chalk it up to prophecy. This is our fate or destiny or some other horseshit. It’s probably just very bad luck.”

“Did you know all of the stories about elves and humans falling in love end in tragedy? I read every one I could find after you left,” Illana said, laying her head on his chest. “It made me believe we were doomed from the start. After that, I just didn’t want to deal with anything that robbed me of so much joy.”

“Stories are just that – stories,” Rin said, “They’re supposed to make you feel one way or another. Most of the time, they only have a passing familiarity with what’s real. You should read some of the stories about the Badlands or the rangers.” He looked down at her.

“The cards are stacked against us. We owe our first loyalties to two different lands. The easiest thing for us to do would be to make a clean break and deal with the heartache.” He smiled as he felt the fear spike in their connection. “Unfortunately for you, I’m a ranger. We never do the easy when the right is staring at us in the face.”

“Well, there’s at least one good thing,” Illana said, before rolling off him and curling up next to him. In a few minutes, they were both asleep.

It was still dark when Rin woke. He reached up and touched the light stone above his head. A faint glow of white light illuminated the room. He looked down and smiled. Illana was gripping him tightly in her sleep. He stroked her pale hair. Her blue eyes sparkled in the low light as she looked up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Rin said.

“You didn’t. I’ve been awake for hours,” Illana said, “How can you sleep so soundly?”

“It helps to have a beautiful woman sleeping next to you,” Rin answered, trying for a smile. Instead, Illana frowned. He felt the terror through their connection.

“Rin, could you be serious right now?” Illana asked. Rin hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head.

“Illana, what you’re feeling is completely normal,” Rin said.

“I feel like I did the morning Cull took me into that mountain,” Illana said. “Except it’s worse, because back then I was only scared about what was happening to me.” She gripped tighter. “Now, everyone I love could be killed – and that scares me more.” Rin wasn’t sure what to say, so he just stroked her hair and held her for a few minutes.

“We need to get up,” Rin whispered. “You have to go be the princess while I need to go be a ranger.” For a moment, Rin wasn’t sure if Illana was going to let go. Thankfully, she relented and sat up. She gave him a chaste kiss and then walked to the door. Illana paused at the doorway.

“I’m not going to ask you to promise to be here. I know you can’t. I will ask you to promise one thing though. Try, Rin,” Illana said, “I don’t know if I could sleep if I didn’t know where you were.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

In the annals of the Jeweled Empire, Kallus Parn will be enshrined as one of its most transformative chancellors—a figure whose contributions cannot be overstated. To have foreseen this when he first entered the Diet and boldly severed his ties with the Blood Loyalist faction, renouncing his family’s entrenched allegiances, would have required remarkable prescience. Indeed, his prospects seemed especially grim when he also spurned the Traditionalists. Junior members of the Diet typically do not dare to eschew the major factions. Yet, this very audacity rendered Kallus Parn virtually invisible to the senior echelons of the Diet, those complacent titans who failed to perceive his subterranean efforts. They remained blissfully unaware as he meticulously gathered a coalition of disaffected independents and juniors, quietly expanding his network of confidants and allies. Thus, when the Night of Fire and Blood left the principal factions of the Diet in a state of paralysis, it was Kallus Parn who emerged from the shadows to fill the leadership vacuum. It was through his decisive and unyielding leadership that order was restored. It was Kallus Parn’s guiding hand that steered the Empire through the tumultuous years following the mysterious disappearance of the infant princess. He was the linchpin in forging a historic treaty with the Republic, a pact that not only modernized the Empire’s military forces but also set the stage for a new era of strategic strength. Inevitably, his detractors hastened to label him as a practitioner of ruthless politics, driven by a relentless pursuit of personal ambition. Yet, even if such aspersions hold a kernel of truth, they pale in comparison to the magnitude of his accomplishments. To ignore or dismiss the substantive achievements of Kallus Parn is to indulge in a myopic and fundamentally flawed critique. For in the final analysis, Kallus Parn’s legacy is indelibly marked by his extraordinary capacity to rejuvenate an ailing Empire. His is a testament to the impact of resolute and visionary leadership—a legacy that will not soon be forgotten. – Argis Parn, official historian of the Parn Family

PALLUS

Pallus followed his father’s chamberlain into the office of the Chancellor of the Diet. The emerald walls glowed softly through several tapestries. Two of the tapestries were embroidered with the portraits of the two-hundred and forty-two men and women who held the office of Chancellor since the nobility forced the Diet on the Crystal Blood. Pallus knew his father already arranged for the Empire’s finest embroiderer to do his portrait. Not that his father expected to leave the Chancellorship anytime soon.

Pallus sat down in the middle of the three leather chairs arranged in front of the Chancellor’s desk. The chamberlain walked to the large, stone-topped pine table running almost the entire length of the office’s back wall. The light wood and white granite looked out of place among the room’s darker woods and jeweled surfaces. It didn’t surprise Pallus that his father was using the table upon which the last free Lord of the Mountains signed the annexation treaty ending dwarven independence as mere furniture. The chamberlain poured Pallus’s preferred amber wine and handed the glass to the scion of his master before withdrawing.

Pallus’s father ignored him, ostensibly finishing some paperwork. Pallus never understood the affectation, but it was how the game was played among the lords. Pallus took the time to look at the other tapestries. The first, hung over the Chancellor’s right shoulder was the four-pointed star emblem of the Empire. The points of the star had the emerald circle of the Diet, the sapphire circle of the Sacellum, the amethyst circle of the Liopasto, and the white circle of the Crystal Blood. Behind the chancellor’s left shoulder hung the emblem of the Chancellor, a gold gavel on a field of green. The last tapestry in the office hung was the crest of House Parn. It was hung to Pallus’s left in one of his father’s favorite places to stare while pondering.

“Honor, duty, courage,” Pallus murmured to himself as he looked at the three blue swords on a field of yellow. The center sword was larger and dominated the crest. Honor was first among the three sacred creeds of House Parn.

“So, you do remember your House,” Chancellor Parn said, laying down his pen.

“I didn’t come here to continue old arguments, father,” Pallus said. His father raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Then why have you made the trek across Aponte Hill?”

“I came here to ask you to declare a state of emergency and recall the Capitol Army.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t come here to rehash old arguments,” Chancellor Parn said, with the coldest neutrality.

“Father, have you seen what is out there?” Pallus asked. “Ten thousand Purists. With siege engines. And muskets. Are you still going to maintain the Purists are just an unruly mob that should be handled by the constables?”

“Pallus, you are a soldier. From what I hear, a very good soldier. Unfortunately, you think like a soldier. You do not understand how to properly manage a crisis as a lord of the empire should,” the chancellor said, with a hint of disappointment. “If you did, all of this would be clear.” Pallus took a long drink of his wine as he examined his father. The man was ruthless, cunning, and used every opportunity to advance his own personal power. So, what action would benefit his father the most at this moment? Pallus’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve already recalled the Capitol Army,” Pallus said. His father’s face maintained the same cool neutrality.

“Why would I have done that?” Chancellor Parn asked, in a far too reasonable tone.

“For the same reason you kept the army and the nobles’ armsmen off of the streets of Lisandra on the Night of Fire and Blood,” Pallus answered, matching his father’s tone.

“Repeating such wild accusations is irresponsible, Pallus,” his father said, reprovingly. Pallus let the barest hint of a smile cross his face.

“Father, I was standing outside your door when you and your minions planned your response to the riots. Your restoration of order in Lisandra won your faction enough converts to secure your bid for the Chancellorship. It also positioned House Parn to be one of the First Houses,” Pallus said. “You’re attempting to use the same tactic all over again, but with much higher stakes. Pretend to ignore a building crisis until it reaches a crescendo and then come riding to the rescue and reap the rewards.”

“I’ve been blessed by the Goddess to be in the right place at the right time,” the chancellor said in a perfect politician voice.

“Father, I’m talking to you as your son, not as the commander of the Crystal Guard,” Pallus said, “Could we not lie to each other? This conversation will go far more smoothly.” A genuine smile spread across the chancellor’s face, and Pallus restrained himself from showing his repulsion.

“Then, yes, the army is preparing for its return to Lisandra,” Chancellor Parn said. “From what General Lopanes informs me, the army should be coming through the gates the day after tomorrow.”

“Of course, General Lopanes,” Pallus said and took another sip of his wine. “How much are we adding to his retirement for this?”

“I’m allowing his son to marry one of your cousins,” his father answered. “His family has certainly proved its loyalty to our House enough over the decades.”

“Well, at least we agree on one thing,” Pallus said. “What exactly are you hoping to gain from this?”

“To secure the primacy of the Diet,” Chancellor Parn said, as if it should have been obvious to anyone. “As well as ensuring our House maintains it primacy among the other First Houses for the next few generations.”

“Of course,” Pallus said. He placed his wineglass on the desk before standing.

“Off to run and tell that jumped-up trollop you’re bedding about my plans?” Chancellor Parn asked.

“No. I’m not going to say a thing to Sonya. We are talking here as father and son, I advise you to tell the princess and her regent about the army as well as declare a state of emergency,” Pallus answered.

“Why under the Goddess would I do something like that?” his father asked, somewhere between bemused and annoyed.

“Because if you don’t, it will be the second grievous mistake you’ve made, and I don’t want to see House Parn fall because of your bungling,” Pallus answered.

“Second mistake? What would have been my first mistake? Our House is among the Firsts. Through the Diet, we control the Empire,” Chancellor Parn snarled.

“Your control hangs by a tenuous string,” Pallus said. “One that is dangerously close to snapping. As for your mistakes, your first was chasing Rin out of the Empire.”

“Humans are all liars,” Chancellor Parn said, waving a dismissive hand.

“Rin didn’t tell anyone what, or more appropriately who, sent him scurrying back to Marei,” Pallus said.

“Then, how do you know it was me?”

“Because of your constant attempts to betrothe Illana and me after he was gone.”

“A marriage between the princess and you would have secured our House’s future,” Chancellor Parn snapped. “Instead, you went and started screwing her regent.” Pallus bit down his anger. His father was a master at manipulating people into making mistakes. Pallus took another sip of wine to give himself a moment to calm down and think.

“The sad part is that you don’t understand why chasing Rin off was a mistake. For your edification father, Rin’s departure broke the princess’s heart at a very delicate time. That made it impossible for anyone to get close enough to her to accept a proposal of marriage,” Pallus said. The chancellor sat back and gave his son a rare appraising look. Pallus surprised him.

“You’re correct. That scenario never occurred to me. It certainly explains her refusals of all other offers. Still, that was in the past, and we must focus on the present.”

“You still don’t understand the depth of your mistake. When it comes out that you were directly responsible for Rin leaving – and I assure you, it will – I would not be surprised if Illana executes you, assuming she couldn’t find anything worse to do.”

“The human won’t say anything to the girl,” Chancellor Parn said. “He’s a Mareian. They’re too proud to admit something like that.”

“You don’t understand their relationship,” Pallus said, “At some point in the near future, hopefully after we get through this crisis, Illana will ask Rin directly why he left. Rin can’t lie to her. Not won’t lie to her. Can’t lie to her. If I were you, I would decide how you are going to explain your actions in such a way that won’t end with your head being violently separated from your body.”

“The Empire cannot have a human as the Imperial consort!” Chancellor Parn bellowed. “No one would accept that! Everyone will see that my actions prevented a crisis that we could not have afforded at the time.”

“That won’t save you. Maybe, if at that time, you bothered to explain the realities to Rin and Illana – or enlisted Sonya or Kurt to do it for you – they probably would have agreed to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement. Possibly a political marriage with Rin as courtesan to the princess,” Pallus said. “Those two would have done whatever was necessary to stay together. Instead of realizing that and using it to the benefit of our House, you did everything you could to keep them apart, including driving Rin back across the Jeweled Sea. Now, we have to deal with the aftermath.”

“The Diet and the Sacellum would never have agreed to what you proposed,” Chancellor Parn said. “It would go against all tradition and propriety.” Pallus gave his father a flat look.

“You mean you weren’t sure if you could manipulate Rin. Considering how you and the Suprema run the Diet and the Sacellum, a politically expedient solution could have been found,” Pallus said. “Instead of building a relationship with a human, you chased off the one person who could exert some restraint over the princess on a gamble she would accept a substitute of your choosing. In the soldiering world, that is called a strategic miscalculation.” Pallus gave his father a contemptuous look. “Now you’re going to compound that error with your current plotting.”

“You think you understand this better than me? You understand nothing! In two days’ time, the people of this city will know who truly saved them from the Purists, and it won’t be the Crystal Blood!” Chancellor Parn said. “Then, your precious princess will have to accept whatever I tell her if she wants to have any authority once she ascends to the throne."

“The nobles will toe the line because they fear you more than the Crystal Blood. At least for now. The commoners, on the other hand, know the princess and the Heroes of the Empire stepped up to protect them. They know who will fight alongside them to keep their homes and families safe, and they will know who used this crisis for political gain. After all of this is settled, they will throw their support to the Crystal Blood. I only hope our House survives when the princess comes for a reckoning.”

“That will be impossible if she never reaches the throne. She cannot ascend without the consent of at least a third of the Diet,” Chancellor Parn said triumphantly. “If she sets herself against the Diet, enough will vote against her.” Pallus gave his father an appraising look.

“So, that’s the second string to your bow,” Pallus said. His father nodded. “This will be amusing to watch.”

“What?” his father asked.

“You think Princess Illana has the same level of political skill as Sonya,” Pallus said, “You have no idea how badly you underestimated that young woman. Especially now Rin is by her side again.” Pallus walked to the door, stopped, and turned back. “Don’t worry, father. I will make sure our House meets its obligations after your head is thrown off of Traitor’s Cliff.” Pallus didn’t wait for his father’s ensuing tirade. There were plans to be made.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tell me, do you remember the feeling when the Heroes returned with the Crystal Blood? The hope that this girl would restore the Empire? That we would once again be able to stand tall? I remember. But what happened? Ask anyone who has served in the Crystal Palace. The girl is just as bad as her father, or even worse. She doesn’t care about the common people. All she cares about is her own comforts. She’s even corrupted the Heroes who play petty politics to protect their spoiled princess. – Street crier for Purist recruitment team

SASHA

Princess Illana stepped up to the edge of the balcony. Below were several thousand people. Many were men and women who volunteered to fight. Some were just curious. Some were Purist sympathizers. Sasha longed for her armor as she stood next to the princess. She envied Kurt and Marteen who were in full combat attire. Of course, as the Imperial Regent, she was barred from acting in such a common manner. Stupid traditions of nobility.

“I am heartened to see so many of you here. I cannot tell you how touched I was when Heroes Madrigal and Volker told me how many volunteered to fight to save our city from those who would tear it apart. You are truly the finest this city has to offer.” Princess Illana beamed as the crowd roared. The princess let her smiling demeanor drop.

“It is because of that regard I speak with you now. Many of you have heard rumors of what is marching on our city. I am here to tell you the truth. When Heroes Madrigal and Volker asked you to fight, you were told we faced two thousand Purists. We were wrong. We face ten thousand Purists. Even in the light of this new and larger threat, the Diet has refused to order the Capitol Army to return to Lisandra.” There was dark murmuring from the crowd.

“The Crystal Blood will fight. The Crystal Guard will fight. The Heroes will fight. Because we must fight. Because the Purists have come to purify the Crystal Blood. Because they want to purify me. Ten years ago, a madman attempted to sacrifice me for his mad schemes, and I will not let that happen again.”

“The constables will fight. They have a duty to protect this city and its citizens. They must protect its streets from those who would do its people harm. All of us will fight – regardless of what odds we face because we have a duty to do so. You do not.” There was questioning and more dark murmuring.

“You do not have a duty to defend Lisandra. You have a duty to defend your families. To defend your homes. To defend your neighborhoods. Some in the Diet may say you have a duty to fight and die for them or for me, but I will not ask you to do so. I know what the Crystal Blood and the Diet has done in the recent past. The Crystal Blood does not deserve that allegiance. Not yet, but I will.”

“I need your help, and I ask for your help. I am not asking because of your duty to me. I am asking because of your duty to each other. We need to stand together against this threat. If we stand together, we can protect this city TOGETHER!” The crowd roared as the princess spoke the last word.

“If you wish to fight alongside the Heroes, the Crystal Guard, and the constables, I welcome you from the bottom of my heart,” Princess Illana continued after the roar subsided. “We need everyone and anyone willing. If you decide to stay with those closest to you and defend them, you have every right to make that decision. I will pray to the Goddess you come through this without injury.” The princess’s face grew dark.

“To those of you who sympathize with those outside our city, I will make this pledge. Do nothing to aid them and the Crystal Blood will do nothing against you. I ask you watch our actions in the coming days. Let us prove we are worthy of our ancient lineage.” Sasha was impressed at the princess’s deftness with the last. Sasha would have been more threatening. However, as Sasha looked out among the crowd, leaving it unsaid was more effective.

The princess went down. A flash of fear went through Sasha until she realized the princess was kneeling. The crowd was shocked by the sight of the princess kneeling before them. It wasn’t how things were done in the Empire. The common people were expected to kneel before the nobility, not the other way around.

“Goddess of Light, please watch over these people in the coming days. Protect them, guide them, and give them the strength to endure. Please allow your clerics to be filled with your Grace to defend, to heal, and to comfort your children. For those who you must call to your embrace, please let their calling come peacefully. We give thanks to the Goddess.”

THANKS TO THE GODDESS OF LIGHT. The crowd replied as one. Sasha shot a glance over to Kurt. He looked just as surprised. He wasn’t a follower of the Goddess, but he understood the significance of the Crystal Blood praying in public. Not just praying, but leading a prayer. In public. Before thousands. Did the princess realize what she was doing? As the princess stood up and smiled at her people, it was clear the princess was fully aware of how her actions could be seen by the Sacellum. The princess waved to her subjects and stepped back from the balcony. Cheers followed her as she walked back into the hotel.

“Why, under all that is holy, did you have to do that for?” Sasha hissed as they walked through the hallways. The circle of Crystal Guards gave them a small bubble of privacy.

“Do what?”

“Don’t give me that innocent look. Do you want to see what little support we have from the Sacellum removed because you decided to provoke the Suprema?”

“There are several reasons for my actions – including the simple fact that it was genuine plea to the Goddess.” The princess’s tone wasn’t quite reproachful, but it was damn close.

“If you wanted to ask the Goddess’s protection, you could have asked one of the clerics in the crowd do it. You didn’t need to lead the prayer.”

“Yes, I did.” The princess quickened her pace down the hotel stairs. Sasha expected to continue the discussion when they entered the lobby, but stopped when she saw the princess’s face. It could wait a few moments to ensure Princess Illana had some privacy. They crossed the lobby and out into the street. The Crystal Guard fanned out and surrounded the Imperial Carriage. The princess smiled at the people as she stepped into the carriage. Sasha motioned for Kurt to stay with the volunteers. She needed to speak with the princess alone.

“He’s out there somewhere,” the princess breathed, looking out the window.

“Rin?”

“I can’t pray for his safety. Not openly. All I can do is pray for the safety of others. I can’t help him, so I help those who will support him. I can’t go where he is, so I go where I hope I can feel him.”

“It’s very hard to watch the ones we love go into danger. It’s especially hard when we can’t go with them – or do anything directly for them.”

“At least you were there with Marteen when you rescued me,” Princess Illana said.

“I was then, yes, but I can’t now,” Sasha replied. “Now, I have to stay behind and watch him go into battle.” The princess studied Sasha for several long moments.

“I thought you were done with Marteen,” Princess Illana said. “I thought that was why you sent him away.”

“I can love someone and still realize that our relationship is not good for either of us,” Sasha said. “I love Marteen. I know Marteen loves me. It took him so long to figure that out. Unfortunately, love isn’t always enough. Not when one of them is so very broken – and refuses to heal.”

“What happens when both of them are broken?” The question was barely audible. Sasha looked at the princess. There was fear in the young woman’s eyes.

“Is that what you think? Both Rin and you are broken?”

“I know how I was before Rin came back. How horrible I was to you and to Pallus. Rin’s told me how about the anger he felt before coming back. We’re both broken.” The princess’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Sasha smiled at the princess.

“You aren’t broken. You were just lost.”

“What does that mean? All of the sudden everything that was important to me just a few days ago are – not meaningless, but less important. I’m ashamed of how I acted. So many years of putting you and the others through turmoil. It’s like…”

“The moment Rin walked in, the haze lifted? Suddenly everything was clear?”

“Yes! I can see how horrible I was. I don’t understand how I could be that person.”

“Because you and Rin share something very special. You have since he found you in that cave. We all knew it was something unique, but I don’t think any of us realized exactly how important it was to the two of you until Rin returned.”

“I need him. I can feel the woman I was a few days ago in the back of mind. It’s hard to keep her away when he’s not here,” Princess Illana said.

“He needs you too,” Sasha said, putting a comforting hand on the princess.

“Then why didn’t Rin say anything when Pallus said he would go back to the Republic when he kills this sorcerer?” Princess Illana demanded. Sasha stopped her normal retort. This wasn’t the lashing out of the old Illana. This was a fearful Illana who was dealing with new, or at least returned feelings, and a sudden shame. Sasha silently cursed Pallus. Why couldn’t he stop digging at Rin? Especially when they need Rin so much? Sasha moved across the carriage and sat next to Princess Illana. She embraced the crying princess.

“Sometimes life makes horrible demands on us,” Sasha said. “Sometimes those we love have duties that take them away from us for a time. We must have faith they will return to us.”

“I don’t know what I will do if Rin leaves,” the princess said.

“We’ll face that if it happens,” Sasha said. It was at that moment she realized what Pallus was trying to tell her. Sasha looked down at the crying young woman. She couldn’t leave Princess Illana. Sasha spent too many years preparing the princess to become the woman the Empire needed. Rin coming back wasn’t the only thing Princess Illana needed. Perhaps the most important, but not the only thing. Princess Illana needed Lady Sonya. Damn it.

Chapter Twenty-One