Category: Novels and Stories

I’m often asked how we survived our journey to rescue the Crystal Blood when we were often outnumbered by our enemies. Most of the time, it was Hero Volker who noticed we were about to walk into an ambush. There would be some tiny clue that anyone else would miss. A leaf on the trail. A scent that didn’t belong. A sound that wasn’t native to the land. Ela was our tactician when we were laying ambushes, but Kurt was the one who found those laid for us. I asked him many times why he was so proficient. He never answered me. His silence made more sense upon our return to Lisandra, and I stumbled onto the rumors of his younger years. I could never confirm his involvement with dwarven independence, and I would never jeopardize my friendship with rude questions. – Colonel Pallus Parn, lecture at Imperial War Academy

KURT

Kurt crouched behind some rubble as the Purists fired another volley. Musket balls whipped around him. From the screams of pain, some of the deadly little metal balls found Capitol Army soldiers. Major Agnelli stood up and fired at the Purists. The senior ranger was nowhere near as fast as Rin, but his aim was just as deadly. The street filled with the gray, foul-smelling smoke as the Capitol Army soldiers unleashed their own volley at the Purists. As the smoke cleared, Kurt saw the Purists retreating. The Capitol Army soldiers advanced up another street.

“What’s wrong Hero Volker?” Major Agnelli asked.

“Is it just me, or are the Purists a bit too organized in their retreat? Especially doing so in the face of the sudden return of the army?” Kurt asked. The major pondered while the pair jogged behind a Capitol Army platoon.

“That could be training. After all, the Edess Kul is supposed to be very good,” Major Agnelli answered as he crouched down. The Purists and Capitol Army soldiers were forming lines for another skirmish. He waited as Agnelli took aim and fired. A Purist slumped to the ground. If the elves learn anything from this battle, Kurt hoped it was how even more deadly the humans were since they fought during the Reclamation War. From everything Kurt gleaned from the previous day’s fighting, the rangers killed many times their own number.

“The way this battle is going is bothering me. Like we’re missing something.”

“You think they’re laying a trap?” the major asked as he reloaded his rifle.

“They gave up their forward positions too easily,” Kurt answered, “They could have turned those building into gristmills for the army. Instead, they pulled back with very little fighting.”

“Your Capitol Army raked those buildings with several volleys of canister before sending in their own troops,” Agnelli pointed out, “That does tend to take the fight out of most men.”

“Soldiers, yes. Levies, definitely. Fanatics? From my own experience, they are rarely so easily dislodged,” Kurt said. The major mulled over the dwarf’s words.

“You may have a point,” Agnelli said as he fed another cartridge into the rifle. “You need to tell Colonel Parn your suspicions. Maybe he’s seeing something from his vantage point that we can’t from down here. I will go forward and investigate on my own.” The two men shook hands before separating.

Dwarves, despite their stocky builds, were fast runners. They didn’t have the long gaits of elves or humans, but they could pump their legs like the pistons of a human steam engine – fast and unstoppable. It was a trait the dwarves used to great advantage when the elves invaded their homelands. If the dwarves weren’t outnumbered by an order of magnitude, they might have thrown the elves out instead of just fighting them to a standstill. One of the legacies from the War of Annexation was elven soldiers learned to get out of the way of a running dwarf. Cries to clear a path echoed as Kurt sprinted up the street to the Aponte Wall. It was at the immense crystal structure where Kurt was brought to a halt by Selene.

“What in the Goddess’s Grace are you doing here Kurt?” Selene asked.

“I need to talk with Pallus. I think the army is walking into a trap.” Selene led him to a wooden gate arch. It looked remarkably like the one Selene used to bring them to Lisandra. From the pulsing crackles under the gate, it was active.

“When did this arch go up?”

“Robar and I put it up this morning. This will take you to Eldar Court,” Selene explained. “It’s too far for messengers to run between the Crystal Palace and the Aponte Wall. Be careful when coming out so you don’t knock down any of the army’s runners.” Kurt nodded and trotted through the gate. He swallowed hard as his stomach twisted from the rough gate magic. Getting his bearings, Kurt screamed at the army personnel around him to get out of his way. Even after years of being in the elven lowlands, Kurt still had the muscle memory for furious climbing. The guards at the top of the Gold Spire leapt out of the way as he charged into the Observatory. Nearly a dozen frowning faces turned to look at him as Kurt skidded to a stop.

“Why are you here, Kurt?” Pallus asked, pulling the dwarf off to the side. “You’re supposed to be assisting the army down there.”

“Pallus, the Purists are leading the army into a trap. I can feel it,” Kurt said. Pallus pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“I need your opinion,” Pallus said. He pulled Kurt over to a viewing crystal. Pallus pointed at the Purists’ camp east of the city. The Purists were building a wooden tower. Kurt swept the crystal to the other camps. Similar structures were also under construction.

“Pulling back so they can grind the army against those?” Kurt asked.

“They look too fragile to be fortifications. I doubt they would be able to stand up to cannon fire. Maybe the Purists have some new weapon requiring those structures.”

“If that was the case, why wait until now?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know,” Pallus answered, “I advised the general we need a closer look at them. The general doesn’t think they’re important enough to waste resources investigating them.”

“So, what do you need?” Kurt asked.

“Could you take a closer look at one of those?” Pallus asked. “I have a similar suspicion that the Purists are about to spring a trap, but I need more to take to General Lopanes.”

“I wish Rin was here. He would be better for that,” Kurt said under his breath as he looked out at the city.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, I wish he was here as well,” Pallus said. “Unfortunately, we must work with what we have, not what we wish we had. Excuse me.” Pallus walked over to the group of staff officers. Kurt walked over to the map of Lisandra spread out over a large table. Red and green wood blocks marked the Purist and Capitol Army positions. He studied the map for several minutes trying to decide the best route to one of the Purist constructions.

“May I offer a suggestion, Hero Volker?” Kurt looked up to see one of the Republican officers standing next to him. The man was older with more white in his hair than black. For all the wrinkles, the man’s brown eyes were sharp.

“Of course,” Kurt answered. “You are?”

“Colonel Umbretti, formerly of the Twelfth Legion. I overheard your discussion with the colonel. If I was asked to investigate those towers, I would go to the docks. From there, I could take a ship across Lisandra Bay to this tower.” The colonel tapped the main Purist encampment. Kurt pondered the suggestion.

“What about these cliffs?” Kurt asked, pointing at the maps. “Climbing those would be difficult.”

“Why would you need to climb those cliffs?” Umbretti asked. “Whatever those structures are, they can’t be good. I would just confirm they aren’t some kind of hospital and then ask the ship’s captain to destroy them with cannon fire.” Kurt’s eyes went wide as he fully understood what the human was offering.

“Those aren’t just merchant ships, are they?” Kurt asked.

“Per the Treaty of Friendship and Trade, the Mareian Republic cannot bring commissioned warships into Lisandra Bay without the express permission of the Diet,” Umbretti answered with a sly smile. It reminded Kurt of the smiles Rin used as a child when he was up to no good.

“Of course, those merchantmen in your harbor may also be naval auxiliaries. Just in case there’s a repeat of the Night of Fire and Blood.” Umbretti’s eyes twinkled dangerously. Umbretti slid a slip of paper to Kurt.

“This is very generous,” Kurt said, reading the note.

“The Republic has always considered itself a friend to the dwarven people. Even if we couldn’t always provide tangible proof,” the colonel said. The human officer walked back over to the elven staff officers as Kurt hurried back down the stairs.

The Great Northern Kingdom was always a land shaped by its environment—a kingdom of frost and desolation, forged in the image of its bleak tundra. Its dukes, stern and uncompromising, embodied a chilling practicality, veering dangerously close to outright cruelty. But this was a cruelty with purpose: the rigors of the taiga, they believed, demanded a certain severity. And so, as their disciplined armies surged out of the frozen woods into the endless steppe, they brought with them an order that many, weary of chaos, grudgingly accepted. For the feuding towns and scattered bands of the steppe, the Great Northern Kingdom’s rigid hierarchy must have seemed a welcome antidote to the violence of anarchy. Yet peace, as history so often teaches us, rarely comes without a price. Insurgencies flared from time to time—idealistic cries for freedom in a land where survival itself often drowned out such lofty notions. But the kingdom’s unyielding rulers proved adept at quashing rebellion, their iron grip tightening each time danger loomed on the horizon. It was during these uneasy moments of reasserted dominance that the kingdom was at its most vulnerable. Power, after all, is never more precarious than when it appears most secure. It was against this backdrop of fragile stability that a shadowy figure emerged—Lord Tyrell Shafford, a man of obscure origins and even more obscure motives. A minor noble from the kingdom’s lower peoples, Shafford seemed an unlikely candidate for upheaval. And yet, as the annals of history remind us, revolutions are often fueled by such unassuming figures. How Shafford assembled his band of conspirators remains a mystery. What we do know is that, one fateful night, he and his allies breached the impenetrable Keep Diwen and carried out an audacious massacre—eliminating the King of the Eastern Reaches, nearly all the archdukes, and their families. The audacity of the act would have been astonishing enough; its consequences, however, were catastrophic. With the kingdom’s leadership decimated, its populace turned not to introspection but to civil war. Whatever secrets Shafford held, they died with him—or rather, were buried beneath the chaos he unleashed. The Great Northern Kingdom, it seemed, had not been conquered from without but shattered from within. – Marcus Regelli, writing in “Reflections of Modern Times”

RIN

“Is it just me, or was sneaking in here too easy?” Morelli asked. Rin grunted in agreement. The pair snuck into the edge of the encampment just before dusk. It took them a few hours to find Shafford’s tent before hiding in a small supply tent. Rin pushed his exhausted mind to think over Morelli’s words.

“The last Purist camp didn’t impress me with the quality of their guards. Maybe that’s how they all are,” Rin said. They were so close to Shafford. His tent was only a few meters away. Rin wanted to deal with Shafford and get back to Illana.

“Maybe, but I’m not liking this.”

“Just keep your grapegun handy in case we need to shoot our way out of here,” Rin said with a smile. “I can’t kill them all by myself.”

“Whatever you say, Sergeant,” Morelli said. Rin recognized the tone of a junior not openly disagreeing with a senior. “How are we going to get into Shafford’s tent?” Rin peeked out of the supply tent. He studied the scene for several long minutes.

“There’s a single guard on the tent,” Rin said. “I’ll take him down quietly. You go in with your grapegun. Don’t shoot unless necessary. We’ll snatch Shafford and smuggle him back to the embassy. If we have no other option, we’ll kill Shafford and gun our way out.” Morelli looked skeptical but didn’t object. Wordlessly, the two snaked out of the supply tent.

Rin butt-stroked the guard with his rifle. The guard collapsed with a satisfying thump. Both rangers scanned the area to make sure they were still undetected. Satisfied, Morelli slipped into the tent as Rin dragged the limp body just inside the tent’s main flap. Pulling a few short lengths of rope from his belt, Rin hog tied and gagged the guard. Lanterns hung from the tent’s crossbeams. Just inside the flap was a meeting room with camp chairs placed around a large brazier. Opposite the flap was a thick linen curtain. Behind that was probably the sleeping area. Rin slung his rifle and drew his revolver. He parted the curtain just enough to allow Morelli to slip through before following him. A single candelabra provided faint light, leaving most of the room darkened. Shafford was sitting up in a large bed with a bemused look as Morelli kept his grapegun trained on him.

“Shafford, you stand accused of eighteen counts of murder most foul. You are bound under the Codex Juris to answer the charges. Any resistance by magic or violence will be met with deadly force.” Rin paused as he finished the formal words of the arrest and gave Shafford an evil smile. “Please resist.”

“I win the bet, dearest,” Shafford said to someone in the darkness. Rin spun at the female laughter coming from the shadowed corner.

“I will glad pay after we’ve finished our work,” the woman said in a husky voice, “I will admit he surprised me. The Rin I remembered would never place his duty above his love. He has grown up.” The elven woman stepped into the candlelight. Rin nearly dropped his revolver. Her lithe, athletic form was barely covered by the sheer robe. Her strong beautiful face was marred by the angry, red scar from her left ear around her face and ending in the milky whiteness of her dead left eye.

“That is because you do not understand Mareian rangers,” Shafford said, amused, “They have a deserved reputation for being a determined lot.” He unconsciously stroked the creasing scar on his head.

“I won’t doubt you again on such things, beloved.” Rin finally found his voice.

“Ela? How can you be here? You were killed by the Pursits,” Rin said as his mind raced to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

“Killed? No, liberated,” Ela said with a malicious smile. “They freed me to take up to my new role.” She held up the black mask in her left hand.

“The Edess Kul,” Rin said Ela let out a hauntingly familiar peal of laughter. The sound shook Rin to his soul.

“Such a wonderful disguise,” Ela said, “Not even my dear brother recognizes me.”

“He thinks you’re dead!” Rin shouted, “He grieved for you. I grieved for you. You were our sister! How could you be working for the Purists? Be in bed with him? He’s a sorcerer and a murderer.” Ela’s face contorted in sudden rage.

“You dare call me sister? After you did this to me?” Ela shouted, pointing at her dead eye.

“What did you expect me to do?” Rin shouted back. “You were holding a knife to Illana’s throat.”

“It’s her fault Ral is dead!” Ela said.

“How? Ral betrayed us. He betrayed you. He broke your mind when he forced you to put that arrow in his back. Not Illana.”

“You’re too blinded by that little bitch to see the truth. She’s cursed. We were on the wrong side, and Trennis, and Jevin, and Ral paid the price.” A slow smile spread across Ela’s face. “Now, it’s her turn to pay.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Rin said, placing the front sight of his revolver on Ela’s good eye.

“Are you sure you want to do that brother?” Ela asked, twisting the last word with hate. “Kill me and the guards outside will cut you down before you can save your precious Illana.”

“What do you mean about saving Illana?” Rin demanded, his stomach clenching. Ela and Shafford were too calm.

“Why do you think we allowed you to come into our camp?” Ela asked.

“To kill us? No, you would have done that already,” Rin said as he contemplated Ela’s words. “Shafford knew someone was coming for him after the murders. You figured it would be me. You would need something to hold over me so I don’t kill the two of you.” His stomach plummeted in terror. “You have people inside the Crystal Palace.”

“I told you he was bright,” Ela said over Rin’s shoulder to Shafford. “He always picked up my lessons faster than any of the others.” Ela turned her attention back to Rin.

“Before I came in, I sent the signal to them. They should have Illana in their custody. If they don’t see another signal from us in a specified time, they will kill her.”

“So why didn’t they just kill her instead of capturing her?” Morelli asked.

“They need her for Cull’s ritual,” Rin answered. A memory flashed into Rin’s mind. Illana on the stone table waiting to be sacrificed by Cull. She looked so forlorn, just waiting to die. Rin never wanted to see that expression on Illana’s face again.

“Close enough,” Shafford said. “Cull didn’t understand the prophecies as well as he thought.”

“But you do?”

“Yes,” Shafford answered.

“And if your infiltrators kill the princess, doesn’t that ruin your plans?”

“It would be a setback.”

“So, why don’t we just kill you and then go rescue the princess?” Morelli asked.

“You picked a good one for your partner,” Ela said as she gave the younger man a predatory smile. It sent chills down Rin’s spine. He never saw such an evil look on Ela’s face. Not even when she was holding a knife to Illana’s throat.

“This tent is surrounded by our best followers,” Ela said, “If either of you shoot, they come in and kill the both of you. You’ll probably kill us and a lot of them, but you will die. Then, our people will kill her.” Rin barely controlled his rage. He needed to focus. Ela smiled wickedly at Rin’s expression.

“Or we let you leave, and you can try to save your precious princess,” Shafford offered.

“Morelli, lower your weapon,” Rin said after a long moment. He looked hard at the woman he once called sister.

“This isn’t finished Ela. We will stop you.” Rin turned back to Shafford. “How did you know it would be me?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out who managed to give me this?” Shafford asked in response, tracing the pink crease across the top of his head. “Imagine my surprise when I found out it was you? I have so many reasons to enjoy what is about to happen to so-called heroes.” Rin knew there was something behind Shafford’s words, but he didn’t have time to beat it out of the man. Without another word, the two rangers retreated out of the tent and made a mad dash back to the Crystal Palace. Rin prayed he would get back in time.

In a significant development, representatives from both the Diet and the Mareian Republic convened today to sign the Treaty of Friendship and Trade. This landmark agreement is the result of months of meticulous negotiations following the Republic of Marei’s petition to the Diet for the opening of trade routes within the Empire. The Treaty grants the Republic of Marei limited trade opportunities at the port of Lisandra. In exchange, the Republic has committed to curbing the smuggling of illegal goods into the Empire. Additionally, the Republic will provide essential materials and advisors to assist in the modernization of both the Capitol and Territorial Armies. Notably, the Treaty stipulates that all goods will be channeled through elven trading houses, presenting substantial opportunities for the Lisandra merchant community. This arrangement is anticipated to bolster the local economy and strengthen ties between the Mareian Republic and the Empire. The Chancellor of the Diet hailed this accord as a milestone in fostering economic cooperation and enhancing security measures within the Empire. – Announcement from the Diet on the signing of the Treaty of Friendship and Trade

PALLUS

Pallus studied the Outer City from the Golden Observatory. With the Barrier raised, the view was like looking through orange-tinted water. A large swath of the Outer City was glowing from the remains of the fire. Stopping the blaze required destroying dozens of buildings to make a firebreak. The damage was only going to get worse when the Capitol Army attacked in the morning.

Pallus turned as he heard the boots stomping up the steps. The first man to emerge was General Lopanes. The commander of the Capitol Army was a tall man with salt and pepper hair that complimented his lined face and sparkling dark eyes. There was a small hitch in the general’s stride from where a human musket ball shattered then-Colonel Lopanes’s hip during the Reclamation War. The clerics at the time did their best, but the wound never healed properly. Behind the general were the commanders of the Capitol Army’s four standing regiments and the general’s small staff. Finally, two Mareian advisors joined the staff officers.

The treaty reopening trade between the Republic of Marei and the Jeweled Empire required the Republic to assist in the “modernization” of the Imperial Army, including advisors to teach how to use all the new weapons. Pallus was surprised at how quickly the Mareian diplomats agreed to the Empire’s terms. Then Rin returned carrying those metallic cartridge weapons. Pallus wondered if his father realized the Mareians used the treaty to dump their now-obsolete weapons – and obsolete officers – onto the Empire. At least the two advisors were competent in how to manage a musket-armed army.

“Well, Colonel Parn, your cobbled-together force performed far better than I thought possible,” General Lopanes said, walking over and shaking Pallus’s hand.

“Thank you, General,” Pallus said, managing a small bow at the compliment. The volunteers and constables held the Purists a few blocks from the Aponte Wal, but at great cost. Three-quarters of the volunteers were either dead or so badly wounded they may not survive the siege. The casualties among the constables weren’t much better. Only those forces Pallus kept on the Aponte Wall took no losses. Even the rangers lost two of their number in the fighting with several more seriously injured. Not counting the missing Rin and Morelli.

“We should be able to sort this out in a day or so,” General Lopanes said. “I’ll have fifteen thousand fresh troops ready by dawn, with the rest of the Army forming up during the day. I doubt this Edess Kul can stop four times her number.”

“With respect, General, that may be more difficult than you expect,” Pallus said.

“Explain,” the general said, walking over and looking out at Lisandra.

“From what the constables and volunteers have reported, the Purists’ lead elements fortified these buildings here and here,” Pallus said, sweeping his hands over several blocks in front of the Gold and Silver Gates. “Clearing those will be difficult.”

“You may be right,” General Lopanes said. “Gentlemen, start revising based on the colonel’s input.” Pallus went back to watching Lisandra and half-listening to the discussions between the senior officers. The clanking of heavy armor on the steps of the spire brought Pallus’s attention back. Two Crystal Guards tromped into the observatory, followed by Princess Illana, the Suprema, the Chancellor, and Major Agnelli.

“Your highness, we weren’t expecting you here,” Pallus said, mildly. By the impish smile on the princess’s face, she heard the underlying Why are you here instead of in bed?

“Her Highness decided she needed to see for herself what the Army is planning,” Chancellor Parn said, with perfect neutrality. “As the leader of the Diet and the Sacellum, the Suprema and I decided it would be best to have one briefing instead of several that would just take up the general’s valuable time.”

“Thank you, Chancellor, but I’m capable of answering Colonel Parn myself,” Princess Illana said, in a warm voice that belied the flashing anger in her eyes.

“Of course, your highness,” Chancellor Parn said, tonelessly. Pallus noticed his father didn’t actually apologize. The Suprema ignored the entire exchange.

“Lady Sonya would have come with us, but she’s with Hero Madrigal at the moment,” Princess Illana said.

“What is his condition?” Pallus asked, keeping his own consternation out of his voice. From the smug grin on his father’s face, Pallus wasn’t as successful as he hoped. Damn it, why did Sonya always rush to that man’s side after he broke her heart so many times?

“Not good,” the princess said, giving Pallus’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Selene was barely able to save him. Sonya’s keeping watch on him so Selene can help with other wounded.” Pain haunted Princess Illana’s eyes. “We have so many wounded. So many dead.”

“Rin?” Pallus asked. Princess Illana bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

“The sergeant hasn’t returned,” Major Agnelli answered. “My best guess is Rangers Acciaio and Morelli are taking advantage of today’s events to sneak into the Purist camp under the cover of darkness.” Pallus bent down next to the princess.

“I wouldn’t worry yet, your highness. Knowing Rin, he’ll show up a little worse for the wear, and wondering why everyone is fussing over him,” Pallus said in the most comforting voice he could manage. She arched a skeptical eyebrow in a manner she must have picked up from Rin.

“You despise Rin,” Princess Illana said, coldly. Pallus saw the strain in the princess’s eyes. Damn it, the princess was so pale. Why wasn’t she in bed?

“Yes, I do. I also spent two years fighting alongside him,” Pallus said. “I trust his abilities. I also know how he feels about you.” The princess nodded slightly.

“Your highness, you honor us with your presence,” General Lopanes said, bowing deeply. “Our plans are still in the infant stages, I’m afraid.”

“A brief overview would be fine. Plus, the major may have some insights,” Princess Illana said, motioning to Agnelli.

“My staff and I would gladly accept any suggestions from you Major,” the general said, nodding to the Mareian. The general was very good at maintaining a professional demeanor, but Pallus was his father’s son. The barest hint of disgust flashed through the general’s eyes. The general led the princess over to the viewing crystals, but the commander of the Capitol Army shot covert looks behind him to the Chancellor.

“I’m surprised you let the general talk with the princess,” Pallus said quietly to his father.

“After the fight your little militia put up under her banner, I didn’t have much choice,” Chancellor Parn said, with a hint of genuine respect in his scornful tone.

“Pity,” Pallus said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, son,” the chancellor said, “Her actions were a setback, not a defeat.” The chancellor smiled maliciously. Pallus mulled over the possible schemes until a small cough brought him back to the present. Pallus looked over to see Princess Illana waiting patiently in front of him.

“What can I do for you, your highness?” Pallus asked, with a slight bow.

“Pallus, will you escort me back to the Imperial Quarters?” Princess Illana asked.

“Of course, your highness,” Pallus answered. The two walked down the staircase side by side while the Crystal Guard followed them.

“It was fortuitous the Capitol Army decided to return early from their exercises,” Princess Illana said, her voice neutral. “I suppose someone managed to get a message out, but I am surprised by how well organized they were coming back to Lisandra. It’s almost as if they were planning on when to show up.”

“Yes, your highness,” Pallus said, as he prayed to the Goddess the princess didn’t press the issue further. He wouldn’t lie to her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to bring about the fall of his House. The Goddess must have heard his prayers, because the princess didn’t speak again for the rest of the walk.

Chapter Thirty-One

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.

Chapter Thirty

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.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

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