ã€ŠThe Heart: Part Oneã€‹


 Prologue

    I wonder if the grass is of a different breed here, or if Steel simply wills it to be so rough. Either way, it does not suit me at all! I miss the groves of Velvet back in Kerska. The grass was much softer there, and the priestesses were a lot less boring than the Marshal of Avernia, High Priest of Steel. From what I¡¯ve been told he is second in authority only to His Majesty, the High King of Avernia himself, and yet someone so important is stuck in an uncomfortable grove, shouting dull scripture at teenagers. The mainland is such a strange place, I don¡¯t know why my brother had been so enthusiastic to leave home for here.

    "This Grove shall be your primary place of worship during your tenure at the military academy! Whatever God you held most dearly before will simply have to leave your thoughts; you belong to Steel now!"

    It always seems odd to me that the Gods would feel the need to compete over people''s lives, that they would feel so possessive of their mortal supplicants. After all, surely the human heart is big enough for at least five, right? Admittedly the five of them didn¡¯t precisely have equal weight in my heart, there are some gods I happen to like more than others, and some I think could perhaps have made better impressions... This sermon is boring and this grove is uncomfortable, but at least compared to a troll attack it isn''t a bad first time meeting Steel.

    "You belong to the royal family, of course, but as the royal family belongs to Steel, you all belong to Steel as well! This is the privilege of the highborn, and due to the infinite mercy of Her Grace the Queen, the privilege of even... Commonfolk witches."

    He seems to choke on the word ''commonfolk'', though it wasn''t as if my father hadn''t done the same when he learned I''d made friends with stable hands and miller''s daughters in the Groves of Velvet. I remember his sheer disappointment in me when I cried at Pierre''s funeral... I remember it well. And then I remember the reason I came here. I was blessed, blessed to be a witch, blessed to join the army... Blessed to escape a future married to some man whose parents were always going to be more important than him. Blessed to escape the lot of the ¡®Highborn¡¯.

    "Her Grace does of course have the right to rescind her invitation to you, should you fail to meet expectations. Work hard at your studies and your training, Her Grace is always watching!"

    Her Grace... She was much the same as me, wasn''t she? A lonely girl, expected to marry some man she''s never met because of who his parents were... No one rescued her, did they... Maybe she was trying to rescue us.

    "Now! You may be wondering why you were invited deep into the Great Grove of Steel on your first day of lessons on our grand academy-"

    I hope I might meet her one day, so I might thank her properly for giving me the chance she never got... While I should repay her kindness by paying attention to the important, shouting man in the middle of the grove, I find it almost impossible to stop my eyes from sliding off him, and my thoughts retreating inwards.

    "And you may be wondering why we issued swords to you all immediately upon your arrival-" I try my best, but nothing more would penetrate my skull, nothing else could- KITTY?!

    A beautiful orange feline walks cautiously into the grove, treading trepidatiously as though it were unfamiliar territory. I wonder if perhaps the kitten too didn''t care much for the grass in the grove of Steel. It¡¯s enough to make my heart melt, my eyes are drawn to her in an instant and stay entirely put, even as heavy religious scripture bounces off my head. If I had to pick what I miss most about home in Kerska, it¡¯s the ''cat infestation'' that all the grown-ups seemed so upset about. I never understood why they were so upset, cats are amazing! They''re sleek and graceful and fun to chase, having ''too many'' seemed like a contradiction of terms. It''d be like saying one had too many... Well, cats! The kitty attempted to climb one of the trees, but I know from experience that the trees priests make groves out of are very hard to climb for cats and humans alike. It soon slips and falls down, landing on its little feet, shaking its little head. So cute!

    "MADEMOISELLE POLLINEUX!"

    ... That¡¯s me, isn''t it? I¡¯m not ¡®Serena¡¯ here, I am ¡®Mademoiselle Pollineux¡¯ ¡­ I turn my head to face the shouty, metal-clad man. I must''ve missed something that someone thought was important.

    "Y... Yes, Marshal?"

    "Just because your brother is who he is does not mean you have the right to daydream in the grove of the King of all the gods!"

    "I... I wasn''t though-"

    I stop myself, that''s a complete lie from me and an obvious one too. I don''t even know why it graced my lips, it simply occurred to me to lie to the High Priest of ''shouting at bored teenagers''.

    "Oh? You weren''t? You were paying perfect attention then?" The Marshal, taking a break from being boring, decides to instead be a little sinister, continuing on before I can explain that I was in fact completely ignoring him. "Then I suppose you would not mind going first, would you, Pollineux?"

    Oh. I am being punished. The other students'' eyes are all on me, which seems odd given there continues to be an adorable cat that their eyes could be on instead. Still, I get to my feet and bow to the Marshal, ready to have the thing I should already know explained to me.

    "Yes, Marshal."

    "Very good. Draw your sword, get into the ring."

    ... I had clearly missed something important. Damn that cat for being just so cute and interesting! No, this wasn''t the cat''s fault¡­ Damn that Marshal, for being just so dry and boring! I do as I am commanded, preparing myself for a painful humiliation. I am not unfamiliar with swordplay; brother Antoine often took to beating his littlest sister in ''contests of arms'' after the rest of our siblings stopped playing with him entirely... I can''t say I''ve ever won any of our duels, but at least I had lost to a master, and occasionally even lost well. I expect the Marshal to enter the ring himself, to teach me a lesson in manners, in what was and was not interesting¡­

    "Call in 91271!"

    And with that order an emaciated man with a chipped and dull sword in his hand is forced into the ring across from me, two guards aiming muskets at him. The man is barely clothed, he looks as if he had been neglected and starved for days, maybe even weeks. He can barely carry that sword in his hand... I clearly missed something very, very important.

    "Steel is merciful and gracious to us, the future officers of His Majesty''s Loyal Army. To that end, we must show our gratitude, through sacrifice! This man was a thief, he stole a great many things from the people of Avernia, by all rights he should be locked away and forgotten. But Steel sees the value in such men and offers them a second chance. A trial by combat. Mademoiselle Pollineux, this man will attempt to kill you today, to sacrifice you to Steel and earn his freedom."

    With a shaky hand I draw my sword, fine steel, newly made and lovingly sharpened... It has never killed anyone before. Which makes it something of a companion for me in this moment.

    "Sacrifice him first! Only then will Steel recognise you as one worthy of our tutelage here. Only then will you have the honor of serving our king!"

    Honor... That was the word Antoine so loved. The word that brought him to the mainland, the word that brought him to this very academy years ago. My brother... He did this as well, didn''t he?

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.The emaciated man was not going to wait for my personal crisis to lessen, he charged with an energy that I would not expect from someone so abused and neglected. He swung at me, and I parried easily. Even if this man could muster the will to kill me, he clearly lacked the ability, it was exactly the kind of swing I made at my brother during our first bouts... This man looked twice my age, maybe older, and yet this was like fighting a past version of myself. This will be easy, and somehow that is no comfort at all. He seems surprised to have his swing so easily deflected, and tries for another vicious, utterly inept slash. I don''t even need to parry; I simply stand aside and allow his blade to taste the rough grass beneath our feet. At this rate I can easily just exhaust him, he¡¯s already breathing heavily with the exertion.

    "What are you waiting for, Mademoiselle Pollineux?! Steel is a hungry god, and not especially patient!"

    This man is hungry too... And not especially patient, trying to lift his sword from the ground to catch me on the upswing. A stupid move, one that nobody who had ever held a sword before would attempt. This is the move of someone who thinks that swords just touch people and make them die, there is no real force behind it. I kick the sword away and watch my assailant lose his balance and fall, hitting the very uncomfortable grass with a dull thud.

    This isn''t just an opening, this was a victory, I¡¯ve won. Now I merely have to... Finish it. My hand shakes. This will be something I can''t take back. Velvet never demanded this of me... Did she? Perhaps this is simply what being a grown-up is, but... I don''t think I want to be one. Not like this... But the rest of my life now waits at the end of my sword, my ticket away from my fate as a young woman in La¡¯anian politics. Away from ''highborn'' and ''commonfolk'', to follow in my brother''s footsteps¡­ So why can''t my arm do it?

    "You are to be an officer in His Majesty¡¯s army! Such hesitation will see you die, Mademoiselle Pollineux!"

    His manic chanting slips away from me again in this moment, the man on the ground beginning to notice that he has not yet been stabbed. I see his eyes drift to his sword again. That''s right, this man is determined to kill me. Hesitation will kill me, mercy will kill me... And thousands more, if I am to lead an army. The enormity of my undertaking is only now starting to dawn on me. How does my brother handle this weight?

    "You can do it, Mademoiselle Serena!"

    A voice... A sweet and divine voice, one softer than the Marshal''s, and yet it overpowers his. It is the only sound in my entire world. My eyes drift to its source... And in an instant, I was in love. It was as if I was staring right at Velvet herself. No... Velvet cannot possibly compare to the beautiful skin, the dulcet tones, the... Divine and radiant form of her body... And those words. Someone this beautiful believes in me. The man attempts to slip away to grab his sword and I return to reality for a moment, ready to do what I must for that divine voice. I stab deeply and harshly into the man''s heart, hoping that at least I can give him a clean, easy death¡­

    ¡­ I have underestimated the skill required to give a clean, easy death.

    I¡¯m certain I feel his futile heartbeat on my sword. He writhes, he screams, he bleeds and bleeds more than I had ever imagined possible, the scent like a cruel parody of the sea spray of Kerska''s beaches. I stab again, and again, each stab bringing only more screams when I want nothing more than to see him finally know peace. I make a prayer to Steel under my breath, begging him to please just take this poor man, to stop toying with his food and eat. It takes nine stabs for him to finally bleed his last, for the screams to die down... It feels disgusting, unsatisfying... But I¡¯ve done it. The beautiful figure believed I could, and I did it! ... I have earned my path towards the future... Only then do I notice that every single one of my classmates are bowing towards the figure that has so enraptured my attention, and my affection¡­

    "Show some respect, Mademoiselle Pollineux! That is Her Grace, The Queen!"

    I drop my sword and bow in an instant, but not so deeply that I can¡¯t continue to gaze upon her. I hadn''t noticed before, but she has a young man beside her. A young man holding that beautiful orange cat from before... Her son, no doubt. The King''s doing... That sharp feeling in my gut is something I will have to examine later, when I am not surrounded by my comrade witches, the High Priest of Steel, and THE ACTUAL QUEEN! The Queen gestures for me to rise, and I do so without hesitation. Everything the Marshal needs to scream at me to do, she can have me perform with little more than a motion, a look... I have already killed for her, and as unpleasant as the killing was, the horror is already slipping from my mind as I get a better look at the Queen.

    "You have done well, Mademoiselle Pollineux. You have been loyal to your queen, and that is all she will ever ask of you."

    ... Well, she can ask for more things... She called me Serena before, didn''t she? My name, rather than my family¡¯s, my brother''s... I wish she would do it again. And again, and again and again and¡­

    "I am not worthy of such praise, your Majesty-" ¡­ I am meant to address her as ¡®Her Grace¡¯, she is merely a queen consort.

    And yet, she is more my ''Majesty'' than the High King will ever be. "Now, now, you are in a grove of Steel. Royalty decides the truth here, and this royal has decided you are worthy of my praise. Hold your head up high, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    ... She is entirely correct, Steel was the God of Kings as much as the King of Gods, and royals are divine in his groves. She can decide any truth she wants... She can even-

    "Exit the ring, Mademoiselle Pollineux! And take your sword with you, it is time for the next sacrifice!"

    I hurriedly pick up my sword, take one last lingering glance at the queen, and leave the ring as the soldiers drag away the ''sacrifice'' I¡¯d made to Steel... If anything, I made the sacrifice to Her Majesty. Is it perhaps my addled, idiot imagination playing tricks on me, or is she smiling at me as I make my exit? ... That something divine would smile for me¡­ As I watch the other students go about their sacrifices, Her Majesty observing every single one, I try to wipe my blade clean of blood with a handkerchief... And accidentally cut my finger. Not badly enough to lose it, just enough to bleed on the steel and ruin all my efforts. This seems to amuse the Marshal, His Holiness, who stands above me and whispers forcefully.

    "You must show Steel proper respect, or this is what happens."

    I have perhaps committed a blasphemy, dedicating this sacrifice to Her Majesty instead of Steel, at least within the depths of my own heart... But if this is the worst that will come from it? ... I''ll happily bleed for Her Majesty. I''ll do anything to see that smile again.

    The last of the sacrifices came and went with a final, bloodcurdling scream, another smile from Her Majesty, and another morsel for the King of all the Gods. And the last student returns to where the rest of us sit, awaiting the Marshal''s further instructions.

    "Alright recruits, rest up! ... You all did well for your first sacrifice! I suggest that you all brush up on your sword practice though, in preparation for next week!"

    ... Next week? ... We have to do this again?! ... Will her Majesty grace me with her presence again?

 Chapter One

    It has been a few months since the first sacrifice. Her Majesty has appeared at every single one, offering her smiles, her little encouragements¡­ The beauty of her form and the delight of her approval... Except the latest one. Apparently being the queen of a country at war occasionally held some responsibilities and she could not be at our side that day. I had feared that perhaps I would simply be unable to continue to do as Steel demanded without the queen''s encouragement but in honesty, I can still feel her smile even when she isn''t there. I can kill just by knowing I am doing it for her. It is at least enough for me to become mechanical, detached, and able to perform the required sacrifices. In her service it has become quick and easy to take a life¡­ Though I still look away once the screaming begins.

    There is an empty seat in front of me in the lecture hall, previously occupied by a girl who failed to kill, and was sacrificed to Steel. At the time she seemed at peace with her fate, at least until she was stabbed. She howled, she cried, she tried fighting back but it was too late by then. Hesitation had killed her¡­ I didn¡¯t even know her name. I have failed to learn the names of any of my fellow comrade witches, consistently struggling to be anything but reserved around my fellow students¡­ Her opponent was quickly taken outside the grove and shot. The Marshal explained to us that even if no one can be sacrificed more than once, we will not be giving these prisoners mercy by losing to them. The gods are particular about being fed but aren''t particular about who gets shot in a ditch outside the proving grounds. It makes the whole thing seem painfully pointless, but mainland Avernians are just like this apparently, no one here seems to think it''s weird. It¡¯s enough to make me wonder why Father had betrayed the Grand Duchy of Kerska and sold the island to them¡­ But at least that betrayal had, eventually, led me here, to the radiance of Her Majesty.

    ¡­ How was the girl who once sat in front of me not saved by Her Majesty?

    ¡­ My eighteenth birthday came and went recently. My parents sent a rather ludicrous care package from Kerska, one which I assume was at some stage stuffed to the brim with local delicacies. But it certainly was not by the time it reached my hands. I suspect that the commissary staff had eaten at least half of them, I know that other girls have complained about similar things happening to mail they were sent from home. But all of that might have been forgiven, if only the gods had answered my prayers.

    I had prayed to Steel that Her Majesty might grace me with her presence that day, but she did not, apparently restricting her visits to sacrifice days. It seems that Steel was more than a little useless, if he cannot even fulfill one simple request like this. Or maybe my own personal goddess is simply stronger than Steel himself, and is beyond his power to control.

    ¡­ What are we doing in the lecture hall again? Oh right, defense tactics.

    "It is important to keep your soldiers well drilled, so as to keep them fit and able to build defensive works as necessary. Trenches, stone walls, always keep the men prepared to dig in if need be."

    I have heard stories of commanders with more pressing matters than drilling their soldiers, some who even hired out their troops as a source of cheap labor and pocketed the fees, calling it ¡®physical training¡¯. A great many of them are dead now, troops and commanders both. It seems a waste of the money spent on tuition to the academy in all honesty, and a waste of human lives¡­ Why even have armies if you aren¡¯t going to take them seriously?

    "Always keep a close eye out for beneficial terrain features. Hills will give a better vantage to fire upon the enemy with artillery, forests can conceal troops and provide them some cover, and slow the movement of cavalry. Rivers are difficult to cross, and that goes for our enemies as well, so it puts their backs against a wall if they try to retreat."

    Rivers¡­ They tend to show up a lot in my brother''s exploits... Along with my half-eaten delicacies, I received a great many reports of my brother''s exploits in Samnia, of the bold and brave victories he has achieved despite being so often outnumbered and outgunned. It''s enough to make one wonder how a Coalition remains to oppose us after such embarrassing losses... Not that I''d ever accuse my brother of lying, of course. There must simply be more Magyars, Icenians and Germans in the world than I ever thought possible.

    "Now, look at this example here."

    Our lecturer, a middle-aged woman who looked like she hadn''t slept since the war began, pulled on a string to unfurl a large map before us. It is a strategic map; we''d learned enough to know how to read its strange lines and bizarre boxes. It details a force entrenched upon a hill, with an approaching Coalition Army moving to attack.

    "This is an example of a well-executed defense. The artillery is well protected and has good vision from the top of the hill, the infantry is entrenched around it in order to support, the cavalry is in reserve to take advantage of any breaks in enemy cohesion. This formation should be able to take on a force larger than its size and emerge victorious."

    Something about this example seems... Off, to me. Perhaps it¡¯s all the space on the map that is unused, there is more than enough room to maneuver around this admittedly formidable defense. There are forests that might provide some opportunity, and the cavalry is just sitting around, waiting for a victory that everyone anticipated... I can see things going wrong with this.

    And I stand up... If I hesitate then I might be condemning another of my comrades to death one day, by virtue of a bad example. "Ummm, forgive me madam but I believe-"

    "Please sit down, Mademoiselle Pollineux, this is a lecture-"

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    "But your example is wrong!"

    The air sharpens, becoming sharp enough to cut me to pieces if I step wrong now. The lecturer gives me a glare with an antagonism that I imagine she would not be able to muster for any number of Icenian regulars or Magyar conscripts. I am the enemy now, and she is going to defend her ground to the last.

    "Your brother being who he is does not negate the necessity of proper military training, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    "Proper, yes! ... Your example implies too much Madam. It implies the enemy are simply going to charge into well-prepared defenses, that they aren''t going to attempt any flanking maneuvers using all the empty space the example gives them, or even just bypass the defense entirely and cut it off from supply. Even the most formidable trenches are useless if its defenders are starving!"

    The lecturer does not budge an inch, but I can feel the sharp air close in... I swear my neck is bleeding ever so softly. "I see. You believe I assume the enemy is an idiot, whereas you assume the enemy is a genius of maneuver warfare. It seems a little hypocritical to-"

    "We have to be prepared for generals who are geniuses of maneuver warfare! It''s a relatively new doctrine, sure, but look at what it is achieving in Samnia! We pioneered this, we cannot allow ourselves to be left behind!"

    A withdrawal, a slight withdrawal... I reach a hand to my neck and feel the wetness of blood against my hand and neck... Our lecturer is a witch? "Very well, Mademoiselle Pollineux. How then would you perform a maneuver defense? Impress me, Pollineux."

    ... I wish she''d call me Serena. It¡¯s as if she was asking for my brother to prove her wrong, not me... Then again, it was my brother who pioneered the doctrine that I''m championing, so in a sense she is... I just can''t escape his shadow, can I?

    I feel the sharpness of the air against my neck again, the lecturer is clearly impatient for me to start... The forests, the forests are key I think. "... I would split my forces, some creating obvious and blatant defenses on the hill, some set up in the forests as a flanking force. When the enemy converges on the hill to attack, we open fire from the forests, with three-pounder guns if the ground allows, as well as with infantry. When the enemy is disoriented and attempting to reform themselves to face this new threat, resulting gaps in the line will be easy to exploit with cavalry emerging from behind the hill. This, I believe, will precipitate a costly rout for the enemy."

    "You believe-"

    "It''s the conclusion I have drawn from the after-action reports I have read relating to the use of maneuver warfare. A great deal of it is about provoking a rout by creating confusion and exploiting the resulting gaps, rather than simply waiting for the enemy to make them themselves."

    A nearby student giggles, mumbling something about ¡®exploiting gaps¡¯'', before screaming and recoiling. She reaches her hands to her hair, only quietening down as she realizes it is all still there. The lecturer pinches the bridge of her nose... And suddenly the tension in the air is gone, and I feel free to breathe again without brushing up against an invisible knife. I think... I think I may have won.

    "This is meant to be an elementary example on proper entrenchment for teenagers, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    "It''s better to teach them right from the very beginning, otherwise they''ll default to bad habits under pressure, Madam."

    "You really are your brother''s sister, aren¡¯t you?"

    "I am Serena Pollineux..."

    "Sit down then, Serena. This was very amusing, but we do have a lecture to get back to."

    I obey, taking my seat again and looking at my wet, bloodied hand... And finding it completely clean. The feeling of wetness fades as I see for certain that there is no blood on my fingers, and I realize there must have been no cut on my neck at all. Our lecturer certainly has a strange power¡­ And it seems there is still some fury in that woman somewhere under all that tiredness. I may have made a powerful enemy today. Or at the very least, a powerful impression. But I can''t let my comrades down or allow them to pick up bad habits. They are going to war in three years, and the battlefield is no place for mediocrity... Not when you''re serving Her Majesty. Not when she apparently can¡¯t save everyone¡­

    The rest of the lecture washed over me somewhat, I have to admit that the moment the Queen graces my thoughts she doesn''t leave them easily. Certainly not for defensive tactics 101 from an outdated doctrine, and certainly not for this lecturer. They are probably of similar age, come to think of it, albeit with very different builds... I am eighteen now. In the eyes of Velvet I would be considered a woman, a child no longer. Would Her Majesty see me as a woman? ¡­ Can I really say I¡¯m much of a ¡®grown-up¡¯, that I fit in with the strange mainland Avernians and their sacrifices, their strange priorities, their ¡®normalcy¡¯. Maybe I have a lot of growing up to do before I can really consider myself worthy of Her Majesty¡¯s affections¡­ But I can¡¯t escape the desire for her to want me as I am, not as the incomprehensibly ¡®normal¡¯ Serena I should become.

    "... Come back, your Majesty. I miss you."

    I realize soon after the lecture that my notes are mostly little sketches, fragments of love poems, all things I barely even remember making... This is bad, I am supposed to be killing for Her Majesty. Not falling for her.

 Chapter Two

    Chapter Two:

    This cold again.

    This cold has been a frequent companion since I arrived at the Military Academy in Alesia. Even on the day I first arrived it came, and it comes again no matter how warm it is in the dorm or how many blankets I pile atop myself. This cold does not respect things like natural laws, and certainly does not respect my wishes and desires. It respects only two things. The first is my homesickness, my desire to lay on the beaches of Kerska again. To be with friends and family again, to sing and play in the groves of Velvet and to dote upon Barcaggio''s substantial cat population again.

    These things bring the cold, and these things are always with me a little bit. But lying in the dorm, being utterly alone despite being surrounded by young women like me? These moments are when the cold was most harsh... It is worse tonight, and even after over a year at the academy I still haven¡¯t found a way to overcome it completely. My nineteenth birthday has come and gone, and it brought with it the revelation that the commissary is apparently developing a taste for Kerskan delicacies. They very clearly ate everything my parents had sent from home this time, which left me with nothing but the dispatches. Thus I spent my birthday reading all about just how well my brother was doing. Everywhere I went people looked at me and saw my brother, even my very own parents it seemed. And that knowledge brings the cold harder than ever before, enough to chill my bones and make me shiver.

    And in times like these, I can only cling to the other thing this cold respects. Her Majesty.

    Her Majesty''s portrait at the end of the dorm room is forever lit up at night with candles, and is the only thing in the room one can see when the day is done. And as long as it is here I am not truly and utterly alone. She is here, at least in some fashion, and she is always watching over me. It''s reassuring, it''s beautiful, she is beautiful, and while a simple painting may seem like nothing but a drop of water in the face of over a year of this isolation, I am in these moments a very thirsty girl. I can''thelp but adore my queen for being here in these cold moments, I can''t help but feel some warmth, I can''t help but love her... Which makes the other things I feel okay... Right?

    Her Majesty really is beautiful as a painting... But my Velvet mind simply won¡¯t let her stay a painting. Not after she chases the cold away from me, not after she is always there. I want to thank her, to venerate her, to sing her praises, to worship at the altar of Her Majesty! ... And I want her to want those things from me. I want her to want me to touch her. I want her to look at me and see Serena, not another Pollineux¡­

    One of my hands drifts down my form, and while I try to fight it I simply cannot. I do not have the strength to resist the pull of Her Majesty... My hand finds itself between my legs and in turn finds itself utterly soaked. When did I become so... This? At this point shame simply will not stop my hands, but I am left wondering why a woman has inspired such enthusiasm from me where no man ever has. It is a hopeless dream, a pathetic dream, that the Queen would ever reciprocate my affections, that she would ever want from me what I want to do to her.

    But it is a warm dream, and that was something I simply cannot fight.

    As my hand graces my wetness my mind wanders away from the world around me, being consumed by a radiant vision of Her Majesty. She sits naked upon the throne of the High King of Avernia, with a smile on her lips and her eyes solely on me. And when she gestures for me to approach her, I do so. When she gestures for me to kneel, I do so. When she gestures for me to kiss her feet, I do so eagerly.

    In the fantasy she gestures for me to kiss further up her legs, and I ravenously comply, more a beast than a girl and certainly more so than a future general. In reality, my fingers rub gently over my wetness, building a rhythm, provoking a little prayer.

    "I love you."

    In the fantasy she spreads her legs and takes my hair in her hands, gracefully guiding my head to her wetness, her command clear and my obedience absolute. In reality, I slip a hand back into the sleeve of my nightshirt to touch my wanting chest.

    "I love you."

    In the fantasy her legs are now wrapped around my head, tightly holding me in place, the queen sounding almost as unkempt and shameless as myself. In reality, the pace of my hands has quickened, and my hips now subtly rock with the motion.

    "I love you."

    In the fantasy my queen releases my head and pulls me up to kiss her deeply, the feeling of her tongue against mine enough to rock my entire body with delight. In reality... I am close to something.

    "I love you!"

    "Could you keep it down? You''re being very distracting!"

    A voice... One which cuts through both reality and fantasy, and stops my hands at a very awkward moment. A quietly whispered voice, and one with some venom behind it... It takes me a moment to realize it must have come from the comrade witch on the bunk above me, and all that shame I thought I''d overcome comes back with a vengeance. What would she think if she knew I am thinking about a woman? What would she think if she knew I am thinking about HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN?! ... She can''t read my mind, I''m okay, I just have to be quieter¡­

    "S... Sorry."

    "Just because you have some sweetheart somewhere doesn''t mean you get to be louder than the rest of us, y''know. Spare a thought for us hopeless, lonely sorts!"

    That venom again... Wait, sweetheart?

    "I... I don''t have a sweetheart-"

    "Oh yeah? Then what was all that ''I love you'' stuff all about? I bet it''s some man back home, built like a prince out of an especially boring painting." ... She was listening that closely?

    "It''s... It''s not like that!"

    "Yeah right, a pretty thing like you would have someone... Some of us have pathetic fantasies that they''d really like to be left alone with-"

    "My fantasies are pathetic too!"

    ... I¡¯m not quite sure what provokes these words from my lips. Perhaps the idea of being with some man is simply too repulsive to allow the bizarrely angry woman above me to continue to hold in her head. Perhaps I don''t like being singled out as doing something wrong, or thought to be better off than I am... Maybe I just have to tell someone, anyone, to absolve my stupid shame¡­

    "Oh yeah? Then who were you thinking about then, huh?!"

    A smart girl would shut up right now and go right to sleep at such a challenge... My bunkmate is not speaking to a smart girl.

    "... Her Majesty, the Queen... Her portrait is always there and-"

    "You too?"

    ... ''You too''? As in, ''you as well''? While I take a second to ponder this, I hear the sounds of someone climbing down the bunk¡¯s ladder, and for a second I wonder if I''m about to be murdered for my dual blasphemy against Wool and Steel... Instead, I feel someone enter the covers of my bed, which for a second panics me even more than being murdered... I was left at a very awkward place by this interruption after all. The bed isn''t very wide, so to slip in my bunkmate-turned-bedmate has to come in a little close. Close enough that I can have no secrets from her.

    "... You''re also thinking about Her Grace? ... I thought I was the only one." Her tone sounds suddenly incredibly earnest, a far cry from her venom and her accusations, almost as if she is pleading with me to be real.

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    And I am in this moment distressingly real. "I... Yes... I just, I miss my old friends, I miss my home¡­ I miss a lot of things, and I don''t have much here in Alesia. But she''s always there."

    "She''s always real."

    "She''s always watching."

    "She''s always smiling."

    ... This girl knows what this infatuation was like so intimately that she even knows the script. It¡¯s honestly quite scary to have someone know what I am going through¡­ But also comforting that I am not the only one going through it. I feel a little less alone with this stranger in my bed rather than atop it. And a little warmer¡­

    And to demonstrate just how alike we are, she keeps the conversation going without shame. "And, well... When she''s so beautiful, and so present... It''s hard not to fall in love, right?"

    I hurriedly nod, she gets it exactly! "Yeah... And, when you fall in love-"

    "It''s hard not to act on it."

    "It''s certainly hard not to see the painting differently." I am smiling, it feels like a blasphemy. "She is wearing such a beautiful dress."

    "But just imagine how divine she would be without it.¡± The reverence in my impromptu bedmate''s voice has given way to just a little hint of mischief. ¡°She has such a beautiful smile."

    "But just imagine how pleasurable it would be to see her squeal?"

    The stranger seems quite pleased by our little call-and-response game, I can practically feel her smile. "... I really didn''t think I''d meet another girl here who was bent like I was... It didn''t seem like an especially hoity-toity thing to be."

    "Bent?"

    "Into women."

    I look away from where I assume her face was, suddenly more than a little off-guard by learning the words that might describe what I am going through. "Ah... Well, I can''t claim to be particularly ''hoity-toity'' but... I must confess, I have never found men in any way to be stimulating. They''re like partially shaved bears but smaller and less interesting... But women-"

    "Are soft."

    "Are kind."

    "Are just radiantly beautiful."

    "And... Well..."

    "They''re warm on a cold night?"

    I nod and turn my body over to face the very agreeable intruder in my bed, unable to help myself but share the shameful smile that my lips insist upon. "... I''m Serena, by the way. I uhhh, I don''t like to make a big deal out of my family name."

    "Wow, you really aren''t hoity-toity... Serena''s a pretty enough name on its own." She says it with such casualness that I have to wonder if she is intentionally attempting to provoke a blush from me, or if I am just truly and utterly bent for reading something flirtatious into a perfectly normal thing to say. "My name is Lazierte. No family name, not even Arbor... No family to be missing either, no friends... No home."

    My head starts to concoct some condolence right out of a military dispatch, but stops when I realize something. "And then the Queen mustered all the witches into service."

    It¡¯s her turn to nod, sounding almost as apologetic as she is reverent. "It was the first time I was ever wanted, y''know? ... I uhhh, I shouldn''t be bringing you down like this, I''m sorry, Serena-"

    "Do you mind if I consider you a friend, then? It might be rather sudden, but I have no friends here in at the Academy and-"

    This seems to provoke an almost violent pause from the girl in my bed, Lazierte... But a pause that is eventually answered. "... You ummm... You can continue, if you''d like. With the queen and everything, you can be as loud as you want. I won''t interfere anymore."

    "Th... Thanks."

    I¡¯m not sure if that is a yes or a no on being friends, but there are certain aches that I appreciate having her permission to address, as soon as she leaves my bed.

    ¡­

    "W... Well? Aren''t you... Y''know." Lazierte¡¯s voice is almost as impatient as it is awkward.

    And its source is still laying in my bed. Is this normal? Friend stuff? I can''t say I¡¯ve ever shared a bed with a friend before, let alone done something like this. Is this part of being a grown-up, one of those things about mainland Avernia I simply don¡¯t know?

    "Is... Is it okay? I mean, while you''re still here?"

    "I''m okay with it, so it must be okay! ... I''ve never really had a friend before, but I do know they''re supposed to share things."

    Somewhere in my head I reckon there has to be something wrong with Lazierte''s statement, some way in which it does not apply to this circumstance or to our seconds-old friendship... But I can''t think of it, and maybe it doesn¡¯t matter if this isn¡¯t what friends normally do together. This is warm enough, and Lazierte seemed nice, and maybe this can be a new normal just for us. She¡¯s okay with it, after all. So I start again, though thinking about things seems to make my fantasies a little less forthcoming, and a little less obedient. It¡¯s rather hard to indulge in a fantasy when the reality of my situation is just so¡­ Present. I almost consider giving up when I feel something odd. Lazierte has taken my hand in hers.

    She is also... Indulging some fantasies, it seems, and at some point during she must have reached for me. And somehow, with her touch, my frustration melts away. It feels more real, less fantastical¡­ Normal. I squeeze her hand, she squeezes back, and after a final moment of tension I reach the thing I had been close to, I was unwound.

    "I love you."

    I pray to all the gods that Lazierte didn''t hear those words escaping my lips, it would make things incredibly awkward for our now minutes-old friendship if she did... She squeezes my hand harder, almost hard enough to hurt, breathing rather heavily as she herself finishes. She doesn''t say anything, nothing I can hear at any rate... I wonder if I might learn a lesson in restraint from the woman who slipped into my bed and started touching herself while holding my hand.

    Even in the dark, unable to see her face, I can somehow see her joy, and I find it almost radiant... I think I am still smiling with her. Maybe this is what friends do... It feels a little tender, sharing the wetness, sharing this moment. A little vulnerable, a little open. But it isn''t cold. And I trust her with this vulnerability¡­

    "Hey, Lazierte?

    "Yeah Serena?"

    "... Do you want to do this again sometime-"

    "I''d love to!" Her voice holds a certain irrepressible enthusiasm, as if a dam wall had just broken and could never be repaired.

    "Keep it down, you damn sapphics..." A voice from another bunk chimes in, one which seems to belong to a very tired comrade witch.

    Lazierte tries to be a lot quieter, but her excitement still carries. "... I''d love to, Serena..."

    I slowly fall asleep with her hand in mine, wondering if she will still be there when I wake. I hope so. I''d like to be holding my new friend''s hand when tomorrow comes.

 Chapter Three

    In only a few days from now I will have spent two years at this academy. Two years of outdated books, of reading and re-reading my brother''s after action reports. Two years of blood soaked sacrifices... Two years of praying for the queen to come and visit, and occasionally even getting to see her! Today is one of those rare moments, one of those precious bits of time where she might smile at me again! It''s almost enough to make me excited to end a human life.

    We assemble in the grove as is typical, and I take a seat on the grass next to Lazierte as has become our new tradition. It¡¯s a lot more pleasant to listen to the sermons of the Marshal of Avernia when I have her hand to hold. I''m glad I made such a good friend. But today... We were not called into the ring with our swords at our hips. Today there is no sermon.

    Today there is the High King, His Majesty Phillip the Twenty-Fourth. And I am clearly expected to be impressed. I stand up to bow as everyone else does, but I don''t let go of Lazierte''s hand. It is hard to show him much respect when the Queen looks so obviously displeased to be in his presence. She is standing a step behind and two steps beside this man, and that still is clearly not far enough away for her to avoid the displeasure of his company. And I think that might be enough to make me hate my own High King. A single crestfallen expression from Her Majesty is all it takes.

    ... I will make her smile today, no matter what it takes. I will make her smile in a way he cannot.

    The Marshal seems to be trying to keep his shouting habit in check, possibly to avoid blowing out the High King''s eardrums. "Officer cadets of the Avernian Military Academy! His Divine Majesty, the High King of Avernia, has come to personally deliver you some news! Listen closely and show respect! His word is divine law within the groves of Steel!"

    Then Steel can strike me down himself if he has a problem with my disrespect because this man has slighted MY goddess... Lazierte holds my hand tighter, she gets it. Or she just wants a little more reassurance, not that she''d ever admit it out loud.

    ¡°Comrade Witches of the Military Academy! What fine women you have become under the tutelage of our priests of Steel, and our lecturers!" There is something stiff about the High King''s delivery, he''s clearly been rehearsing this for days. "I would be proud to have you serve my crown and defend our people!"

    And this is the speech he decided to go with¡­ I squeeze Lazierte''s hand back, we can''t risk turning to see each other or talking amongst ourselves, or we''d get an earful from the Marshal for interrupting the King, so our hands have to have their own little language.

    "Which fills me with confidence, it fills me with hope, as we will be requiring new, loyal officers on the front lines in the coming days... And with that hope, that confidence in mind, I am excited to announce that you will be assigned frontline duties by this week''s end."

    A wave crashes over myself and my comrades, a wave of utter despair. High Command is sending second-year officer cadets to war? Most of them aren''t reading my brother''s reports either, this is a terrible plan! Are things going so badly at the front that they need us to replace the dead?

    The Marshal of Avernia catches onto the general feeling of despair and employs his only real method of building morale... Shouting. "Eyes up, you slovenly students! You are in the presence of the High King!"

    This manages to at least get my comrades standing at attention, but the dread is still oppressive. I run a thumb over the back of Lazierte''s hand... I hope that she knows that means ''everything is going to be okay''...

    The High King is clearly taken aback by the reaction, expecting this news to be much better received. "This is a fantastic opportunity to serve your nation and to expand your skills. Working on actual battlefields will always be better practice than reading dusty old textbooks! This is an invitation to the future, today!"

    I risk a glance towards Her Majesty, who simply hangs her head in shame at the futile attempts of her husband to try to spin this. She was the one who decided on the muster of witches, but I can¡¯t imagine sending us to war so young and inexperienced is part of her plan. Her face has a palpable despair about it¡­ And I feel suddenly resolute, thinking about that. Our Queen, Her Majesty is despondent, and our fear is not helping things... But as soon as this speech is over, she would be gone again, and we would all be off to war. Lazierte at least has my hand, how can I tell Her Majesty that everything will be okay?

    "Stop this madness at once!"

    Another voice, one I don''t recognise, comes stomping into the grove as part of a small crowd. Men and women, well-to-do but hardly nobility, all behind a well-dressed, white haired young man in spectacles and with a lawyer''s insignia... With a cotton ribbon as opposed to a wool spun one. I didn''t think there were any lawyers who were adherents of Cotton, but the world is an ever-changing place. Still, what would bring a practicing lawyer into the Great Grove of Steel, much less to challenge the divine authority of an admittedly unimpressive High King?

    The Marshal looks about ready to kill someone, stomping forward and facing this newcomer with as much violence as he can muster without actually hitting him. "ROSIERTE, THIS IS THE GREAT GROVE OF STEEL! THE CONVENTION OF HUMANITY HOLDS NO SWAY IN THE DOMAIN OF THE GODS!"

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    "My words can have weight anywhere human beings might be, Marshal. And I intend to reach everyone! Even a High King. Even the children he intends to send to war."

    "Leave, or I will make you leave!"

    This stranger, this Rosierte, simply resorts to talking past the Marshal, treating the second most powerful man in Avernia as if he were not even there. "Officer cadets, surely you must agree that the absurd demands of the crown are downright fantasy. You still have much to learn, and the battlefield is a very violent place, no place for women so young! This political maneuvering by the crown has no regard for your safety, or for the brave soldiers of Avernia! This is unjust! You deserve better than this, and I am here to demand better for you! I call upon His Majesty to rescind this ridiculous order."

    The High King looks utterly flustered, he was barely prepared for teenagers to be upset with him, let alone someone with an actual voice... The Queen looks about ready to cry... This Rosierte person made the Queen cry! I turn my eyes to Rosierte, but I can only see red. If I wasn''t still tethered to Lazierte, I might have tackled him.

    "Forgive this humble witch, monsieur, but I would rather you not speak in our defense without knowing a thing about us!" I can''t see anything clearly where my mind is now, but I know all eyes are on me... I have to use them, or I might just be in for a disciplinary action. "We women here were ones with no prospects, some were highborn and destined to be married off to awful men for awful reasons, some of us were brought up from the gutters of our cities and the outskirts of our towns. We were nothing, we were hopeless things! And then The Queen gave us a chance! A chance at better, a chance to take our destinies into our own hands, to be more than what Avernia allows women to be! I will gladly die for her for giving me that chance. I know the rest of us will too!"

    This certainly gets a reaction... A new wave of dread from the girls around me. This is not exactly conducive to my point, and somewhere inside me I know I don''t want to be correct, I merely want to be ''right''... So I use my magic, my witch''s spell, and open my heart to all the women around me. New bravery overcame their despair, every beat of my heart building a courage in them that they can''t resist. They cheer for me, I know they smile for me, they applaud me... And it is entirely artificial. But it is also entirely necessary. This little bit of magical, non-negotiable courage will get us through this. Will make the Queen smile again¡­

    Rosierte is taken aback by my angry screaming and tries a slightly different tack for his next little speech. "The liberation of women cannot be brought about by defending the power structures that hold them in chains, even if the women are the ones defending it! This institution is merely using you to-"

    "Who cares about any of that! We are not political things, we are not some ideology for you to play with, we''re people! People who love our queen!"

    "Politics is merely morality made manifest in the world-"

    "Is our love any different?! Preach to someone who needs it, Monsieur Rosierte, we are here to serve our queen!"

    ... Somehow, this manages to get this man, this lawyer, this ''politician'' to stand down. "... I understand your position then. May I have your name, Mademoiselle?"

    "I am Serena Pollineux, and I am-"

    "Antoine Pollineux''s sister?"

    "A loyal servant of Her Majesty!" I feel the king''s eyes on me, I feel awkwardness and just a little hint of fear. "And... His Majesty the High King of course!"

    Rosierte falls silent for a few moments, before taking a step back and giving me an honest to gods bow. "... You could do great things with your charisma, Serena Pollineux. Great and terrible things. Remember that."

    And with that, Rosierte and his little queen-upsetting crowd make their leave, muttering amongst themselves about how that went. I can finally dispel my magic before it sends me into cardiac arrest. Maintaining it for this long, with this many people is already hell on my heart.

    Lazierte gives my hand two tender squeezes. She clearly approves of my blistering invective, and that touch is enough to bring me fully back down to Lutice. Back to where I can see my surroundings rather than simply seeing red. My comrades are coming down from the effects of my magic, their fear and trepidation is slowly returning to them. The High King doesn''t seem to know what to make of what just happened, both thankful I''d saved him and clearly aware that I hadn''t cared to do so for his sake. The Marshal was slack jawed, stunned into silence entirely by the exchange... And my queen... She is smiling. She is smiling at me, she is smiling for me! I... I protected her! I am already doing my duty as an officer in Avernia''s army... And it is such a beautiful smile, one only I can provoke from her. One that is for Serena Pollineux, one that only I will ever see.

    ... Tonight is going to be warm, gods forgive me.

 Chapter Four

    We receive our envelopes today, the ones containing our marching orders. We¡¯re all milling about in the common room, trying to find who we will be serving alongside... I am praying I get an assignment with Lazierte, maybe something that can give us some notability in the eyes of Her Majesty. I can''t even bring myself to open the envelope until my best friend can find me amongst the other witches, her eyes similarly anxious to mine, even if the rest of her face would never admit it.

    "Well, open the dang thing! We won''t know where we''re going otherwise!"

    It puts a smile on my face, though some part of me did sting. Hesitation again, will I be killed by an envelope? I try to open my missive with grace and poise, but somehow through my nervousness this demand doesn''t get communicated to my fingers right and I end up with a torn open envelope, and a slightly messed up set of orders.

    "You''re never this clumsy when we''re together, Serena."

    Lazierte laughs, and subsequently struggles with her own envelope. Whoever sealed these things sealed them tight, and didn''t account for nervous girls trying to open them with clumsy fingers. She looks at her orders immediately, studying them as closely as possible, eyes wide.

    "They''ve given me a colonelcy. In Samnia, with your brother''s army."

    I try not to wince at the prospect of my amazing brother taking my friend away from me, even if this is a good opportunity for her. "Well, Antoine has always received the best of everything."

    It takes Lazierte a few moments to get the joke, before she snorts with laughter in her typical fashion. "You charmer. You must be practicing your flirtations somewhere away from me, you''ve come a long way from telling me that I had a very beautiful collarbone."

    "Hey! That was just a training flirtation! ... And you do have a pretty collarbone, so there! It''s your fault, I was just being honest!" Other students are looking at us now and I fear the two of us may have developed something of a reputation over the months in which our friendship had grown.

    "Hehe, training... Never change, you unfathomable disaster."

    "I''m just going to read my orders now..." Damn that Lazierte and her ability to wind me up and get me blushing... "... A generalship... They want another General Pollineux."

    "That''s what you get for talking back to the lecturer so much, I guess. All I did was study hard; I should''ve been a combative know-it-all."

    "Hehe, you really think it''s for more than my name?"

    "I''d rather follow you than your blowhard brother. I trust you."

    She really knows how to turn on the sincerity at just the right moment to make it sting. I look further down my orders, hoping that I too will be sent to Samnia. It''s a very pretty country, and also I''d like to have my best friend''s hand to hold during my first ever campaign. I wonder how many other military arrangements have ever been made for the sake of maintaining bedfellows... Or separating them.

    "They want me in Alemannia. I''ll be whipping Germans and supporting the offensive against the Confederation of Princes... There''s a whole mountain range between there and Samnia, the entire Helvetian Republic..."

    Lazierte''s faux confidence has never seemed so faux before, her entire body shrinking by an inch. "... How''re we going to share a bed with a mountain range between us?"

    "... We could send letters?"

    "That could take weeks... Even months."

    "We could... We could invade Helvetia together! Meet in the middle!"

    "I''m pretty sure it would upset The Queen to drag Avernia into ANOTHER war. We''ve got our fill of those right now." Despite Lazierte''s dismissal of the idea, I note she certainly looks tempted.

    "... Then, I''ll simply have to conquer all of Germania. And you''ll have to conquer all of Samnia, and then we can both march on the Magyars together! If we end the war and conquer the entirety of La''an then surely they can''t assign us to duties apart from one another, right?"

    "... Hehe, that might be the most ''Serena'' plan I''ve ever heard of..." That snort again... I am going to miss her dumb little laugh. "Which means you must be sincere about it. I know you well enough to know you can¡¯t tell a lie to save your life. If you say we''re going to conquer all of La''an just to hold each other''s hands again, then I have to believe you."

    There¡¯s an awkward moment where nothing is said, a moment in which all the world falls away, and the only thing that remains is a lonely girl about to be separated from her best friend. I can see every inch of Lazierte in this moment, not that there are many of them. The girl is short and despite two years of access to the officer school mess hall she still looks rather malnourished, her features vaguely skeletal. And yet there is something comforting about the sharp definition of her form... And I know from experience that she is capable of softness.

    She seems to be focused on me in a similar way, and my head runs through every imperfection she might be noticing. My mousey brown hair, my soft and unimpressive features, my small chest, my dull blue eyes, my average height... I have always hated mirrors, in their gaze I look less a person and more an amalgamation of whatever people considered to be ''boring'' in a human being... And yet Lazierte looks upon this form with such interest, it evident in her eyes that she will miss it, miss me dearly.

    The moment finally ends when she steps forward and hugs me tightly, almost a little sharply given her skin and bones form. "Serena... I don''t want you to go."

    She holds me with surprising strength, I don''t think I''ll be getting out of her embrace without her consent... Which wouldn''t be the worst thing if we didn''t have the rest of our lives to get to. "I won''t be gone long. Lazierte, I will bring us back together again, all you have to do is wait."

    "And not die."

    "And not die."

    "Hehe... Serena, never ever die. I need you to promise me that."

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author."... Never ever? I don''t think I can-"

    "Swear it or I never let go! I know you, you''re the type to get yourself killed in some glorious, heroic way to serve Her Majesty! Or to show up your idiot brother, or just to save some people you''ve never met! Which is why I need to have you swear to me that you won''t die. At all! Not even a little bit!"

    It¡¯s a completely unreasonable and utterly dishonest demand from Lazierte, something I can¡¯t promise and be honest¡­ But. "... I promise I''ll never die."

    "... Now promise you''ll see me again, that you''ll take my hand again."

    "Lazierte, people are staring."

    She only squeezes me tighter at that, as if shielding me from the gazes of the other comrade witches. "People can mind their own business! Promise me-"

    "I promise I will take your hand again. I swear on Her Majesty that I will take your hand again."

    "... Okay."

    She slowly lets me go... And in a moment of cheekiness I hold her right back, as tight as I am able. "Now you promise the same! No dying, take my hand again. Swear it?"

    "... I swear it. On Her Majesty."

    I hold her a little while longer, the poor girl needs it and frankly, so do I¡­ When I finally, reluctantly let her free, I can see that she''s smiling. And yet I know that the moment I''m out of sight she''ll be crying for days. Which idiot wrote these stupid orders anyway?

    "Pollineux! You¡¯re late! Your carriage has been waiting for five minutes now!  Did you not read your orders?!"

    ... The Marshal of Avernia. He is the idiot who wrote these orders. I look down at the missive again, paying special attention to when I am expected to be sent to the front, finding that they ordered me to move out... Literally yesterday. They wanted me on the way to Alemannia yesterday. I show Lazierte, who goes wide eyed with bafflement.

    "... My orders send me out in a week. I... I thought we had another week-"

    "Pollineux! I will go over there and drag you out if I have to-"

    Lazierte hurriedly kisses my cheek, her lips urgent and soon withdrawn. "... I''m a coward. I''m sorry."

    I have no idea what she meant, and I would happily have stayed to ask if the most powerful religious authority in the country wasn''t dragging me out the door, leaving me with only questions and red cheeks... I guess I really do have to conquer the Confederation of Princes, otherwise it might be years before I know what that was about, what she was playing at... Lazierte always knew how to make me blush, it seemed to be among her favorite pastimes. But this feels different, this time she wasn''t laughing at me.

    "This time she kissed me..."

    The Marshal, when he isn¡¯t shouting over a group of teenagers, is capable of surprising gentleness in his tone, even if not in his character. "Do you know why I separated you and Lazierte, Serena?"

    I am angry even before I fully process his words, after which I am furious. "You did this on purpose?!"

    "You can''t win a war by holding hands and getting along. The two of you are only going to reinforce each other''s worst virtues. Virtues that have no place on a battlefield."

    "What does that have to do with commanding an army?! Surely-"

    "It is less about commanding an army, and more about surviving a battlefield. You''ve clearly learned much from your time here, Serena, and I know just how closely you''ve studied your brother''s victories. I trust you to win any theoretical exercise we could concoct here... But the world beyond armchairs and battle maps is a very violent place, and very cold. A battlefield is not a place where human beings can live, it is the domain of creatures beyond human understanding. These places will swallow you whole and force you to fight your way out of their stomachs, force you to spend flesh and steel to carve a path out of them... I don''t believe a Serena Pollineux who has a source of warmth beside her can spend the flesh she''ll need to survive this cold world. Nor can a Lazierte."

    "... You make it sound so horrible."

    "It''s about perspective, Serena. These things about the world are unchangeable, they are set in stone. People will die, flesh will be spent, steel will be used. What can be changed is the part of you that says these things are bad. You must shape yourself to fit the realities of the world. And giving up childish things like ''best friends'' is the first step."

    "I don''t want to change¡­ Lazierte doesn¡¯t want me to change either."

    "Do you think the world will give you a choice in the matter? Become an adult on your own terms, or have adultness thrust upon you. Those are the choices the world will give you. It is the only way to move forward."

    "Move forward into the battlefield, into the slaughterhouse..."

    "You''re starting to understand. You might just be worthy of your rank of general after all."

    We reach our destination, a rather fancy little horse-drawn carriage that all my personal effects have already been loaded onto. It seems that being a general comes with some perks. I wonder if this is why people allow themselves to become ''adults'', for the fancy carriages and the power to give speeches to nineteen-year-olds about the nature of the world. I realize with some horror that the Marshal isn¡¯t dragging me anymore, and I have been following him here under my own power. I get onto the carriage without another word, there is nothing I can say that wouldn''t be a blasphemy now.

    The Marshal seems to appreciate my silence, giving me a genuine little smile as I slip onto the overly plush seating of the carriage. "Best of luck, General Pollineux. Win Steel some victories."

    I close the door, the carriage begins to move, and mercifully I am away from the Marshal and everything else. I thought I¡¯d cry, and yet tears aren''t coming. It feels disrespectful, I can''t spare even a single one for Lazierte, when I knew she will be crying alone in our once shared bunk tonight. But I can''t help it, I feel too resolute to weep.

    I never want to be a grown-up like the Marshal. I never want to walk that path.

 Chapter Five

    It has been over half a month on the road now. The Marshal''s parting speech was certainly a good warning for the horrors of combat but nothing in my entire education, nor the reports I had read, had even begun to prepare me for the sheer monotony of a march. There are green fields, the occasional forest in the distance, a town every once and a while, but no matter what else there is around us the old dirt road stretches on, seemingly forever. And there is nothing to do while marching, it is simply long stretches of myself riding on a horse, watching the soldiers grow tired and sore. It has become apparent to me, even as no one had dared tell me, that the infantry were conscripts, and not particularly well-trained ones at that. If I had to guess I''d say they''d had four weeks of training at the absolute most, hardly the sort of troops a rookie commander wants to have under her command.

    I¡¯ve been taking the opportunity to test my powers on them at the end of each day when it looked like they could march no more. I try to see just how many I can affect at once, and how best to use the power I have. It turns out, the closer I am, the easier it is to affect my soldiers. My efforts started with being able to support a hundred for half a minute, by the end of the first week it was a thousand for almost ten, though I could feel murmurs in my heart during that attempt. It will not do for their general to have a heart attack on the march, but it also will not do if she can''t inspire them into combat. Or indeed, into marching¡­

    ... I miss Lazierte. For over two weeks now all I''ve spoken to are junior officers I don''t know, who all call me ''General Pollineux'' and look vaguely cheated by my mere presence. They weren''t precisely a source of stimulating conversation, and by the end of the first week I was actively endeavoring to cut any contact with them short, barely able to tolerate them. I was never particularly social with my comrade witches either, but now I wonder if they¡¯d have been better company than this¡­ I miss my portrait of the Queen, there wasn''t time to find a replacement before the march began.

    Which must mean this whole ''me being a general'' thing must be pretty urgent, maybe things at our fort in Alemannia aren''t going well. I suppose we''ll be finding out soon, our march is almost-

    Cannon fire... One of the most important skills we learned at the academy was to not flinch at the sound of cannon fire, and yet I still feel my bones jump a little at the noise... At the proximity...

    Those cannons are firing near the fort! The soldiers look nervous, my horse looks nervous, none of us were expecting to fight from the march like this. But there is nothing else that can be done.

    "Soldiers! ADVANCE!"

    A bugle call plays beside me, a fresh-faced young boy playing the tune for an advance... At least I think they''re a boy, I''ve never asked and honestly it''s near impossible to tell at a glance. In any case, the soldiers begin to quicken their pace, although there''s not much faster they can go, already marching in column. Hopefully this ''General Malmo'' I''m meant to be supporting can hold long enough for us to rescue him.

    It takes moving a little further down the road for me to get a complete view of the situation... The intensely grim situation. The fort, if you can call that ramshackle collection of earthworks and wooden palisades a fort, is being attacked on three sides as cannon fire rains from a nearby hill. Coalition infantry, Thuringian banners chief among them, have already taken the trenches and firing positions outside the walls, and are attempting to storm the palisades themselves. And they''d succeed, unless something miraculous happened.

    I take a deep breath, preparing myself to be something miraculous, when a thought occurs to me. This is the very last opportunity I have to flee, to take the troops away from here. One step further, even a moment''s further hesitation would mean being swallowed by this battlefield and having to fight our way out of its stomach...  The Coalition infantry are in disarray, out of formation as they try to force the gaps in the fort''s walls. No hesitation.

    "Infantry! Take the trenches and attack the enemy in the rear! Cavalry! Go and silence those guns!"

    My messenger, a young man so blonde it seeps into the rest of his facial features, rides off to deliver my order to the cavalry. The Bugler calls the advance as loud as they can, trying to fight cannon fire and the nervous talking of inexperienced soldiers. I hear the drums of their drummers; they have received the order... But they advance hesitantly, slowly... We won''t catch the Coalition at this rate!

    I get off my horse, running forth to join the infantry. Either I get them running or they will all die, so I will get them running... I have about five thousand infantry under my command, I will need to have a very strong heart for this. My power envelops them all like a net, and in an instant their half-hearted shuffle becomes a disorganized, enthusiastic run... Technically better, but I¡¯d prefer if they stayed in formation. But I guess that isn''t especially ''heroic'', is it? The troops seize the earthworks quickly, the Coalition clearly hasn''t prepared for an attack from the rear like this. My troops fire once into the mass of Thuringians at the west wall of the fortress, and fire accurately enough to make a bloodbath, a corpse field that the surviving coalition forces find it difficult to navigate. It makes it harder for them to flee as they wrestle and trip over their shattered comrades, which is very unfortunate for them as my soldiers charge like a giant wave, crashing over those coalition troops who survived the volley but couldn''t flee in time. It¡¯s a complete rout, and my men quickly get moving to the next gap in the wall, not even stopping to reload, looking to bayonet more Germans. I catch a glimpse of the defenders in the fort who witnessed what just happened, all of them stunned into inaction for a moment before moving to reinforce other parts of the wall¡­

    I meanwhile am struggling to keep up with my courage-drunk infantry as my heartbeat begins to wane and my vision starts to blur. The troops are jumping over trenches with ease, pulling bayonets out of Coalition troops with incredible brutality, moving fast. I fall into a trench trying to follow them, and probably would have broken a bone had I not landed on a pile of dead soldiers. Avernians and Thuringians both, side by side, blood-soaked holes in their heads and chests, one with a bayonet still lodged in his ribcage. It¡¯s a scene from hell, the hell I''d allowed myself to be swallowed by. That I allowed my men to be swallowed by. I can feel the number of men under my net begin to lower, their unstoppable courage unable to prevent their very stoppable bodies from being riddled with musket fire... This is necessary, this is necessary, we''d lose the fort otherwise. I just have to hold on, to keep the men''s morale up. To keep my heart beating for them from here.

    As I lay on this small pile of corpses I hear a voice. A soft voice, one which somehow reaches me where I am now, which manages to cut through the crack of gunfire and the shrill screams of the dying close by. A gentle, caring voice, that my limbs seem determined to drag me toward. In the trench with me is a young woman in cuirassier dress, armored breastplate but with a flowy skirt.

    Odd, I¡¯ve heard of Witches in the officer corps, but a woman as frontline cavalry? ... In any case, the young woman is sitting beside a dying horse, who she strokes tenderly, speaking to it with fondness.

    "I can understand The Convention sending someone like me to war, but to send a beautiful creature like you? It¡¯s just cruel... I''m sorry, Chestnut."

    The dying beast gives a sad whinny in response, barely able to keep its eyes open, still bleeding from a wound in its neck.

    "I know, it''s unfair. If I had only been a bigger target, you might''ve been comforting me in these twilight moments... But don''t worry, Chestnut, I''ll be with you until you sleep, you won''t be alone... And I''m sure I''ll be there when you wake up."

    The horse, ''Chestnut'', bleeds its last, and the young woman''s hand is left utterly saturated with blood. She seems to have removed her riding gloves to pet the poor thing in its final moments. Perhaps she doesn''t want them to be stained red with her friend¡¯s blood¡­

    With the creature dead the gentlewoman seems about ready to cry, before she spots me pathetically crawling towards her through the blood-soaked mud. "... You''re dressed far too nice to be in a pit like mine.

    "I didn''t exactly have a choice..." I try to laugh, it mostly comes out as a desperate wheeze.

    "Does anyone? ... You don''t look so good, where are you hurt?"

    I gesture to my heart, and the gentlewoman takes a moment to examine my chest, before turning away, flustered.

    "I... I uhhh, I can¡¯t see a wound... You didn''t throw yourself into this pit because of some love troubles, did you-"

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    "I would never disgrace Her Majesty like that- ... I''m a witch. My magic comes from my heart, so it slows my heartbeat..." It¡¯s starting to ache... It¡¯s starting to more than just ache. "My men... Need my magic."

    The gentlewoman raises an eyebrow at ''Her Majesty'', my little heresy, before shrugging it off. "Seems to me that you need your heart a little more than they do."

    "They... They''re saving the day. They need me, they... They''re dying for me."

    She takes a few moments to think, before sidling over and patting my head, getting blood in my hair. "My name is Pasche. Figured I ought to introduce myself, if you''re here to rescue me and all."

    "... I''m sorry I couldn''t rescue Chestnut."

    "She is a loss. I know she''s prancing somewhere nice in heaven now."

    ''She''? War horses were all male, weren''t they? I shake my head of this thought, and it gets lost in the fog that encompasses my thinking. I am fading... I need something to raise my heart rate. "Pasche... I need you to restart my heart."

    "... I, what-"

    "I don''t care how, just raise my pulse."

    "... I mean, there''s a traditional method of that but I don''t think it''s especially appropriate-"

    I throw out my magic again to catch her in its net, having one more person under my power is likely just a single drop of blood in the bucket. Let''s hope some courage gets her to help me. Let''s hope whatever she has in mind is worth it.

    She gets to her feet, my eyes barely manage to follow her... She draws her pistol, and slowly loads it, all the while speaking words that have to swim and struggle to reach me.

    "Y''know, if I bring an Avernian officer to The Coalition as a prize, they might just accept me with open arms. I''ve never much cared for my country, they forced me into this stupid war after all... Perhaps this is the best path forward that I have."

    I panic even before she points the gun towards me, I scream when she fires it right... Beside my head, close enough that I swear I can feel the bullet whizz past my ear, unpleasant memories of the Academy lecturer in my head. Well, my heart is certainly beating again, at least for now. Pasche drops her gun, and then drops herself by my side, eyes rather wide.

    "What... What did you do to me? How did I do that?"

    "My... Magic. It seems to make people all brave and stuff. That''s as far as I understand it... I really thought you were going to kill me, you jerk!"

    "Hehe, I had to sell the bit, y''know? ... I don''t much care for Avernia, but I''m not going to shoot a poor woman in a trench about it."

    "I guess so... My name is Serena, by the way. I try not to make a big deal of my last name-"

    "As in Serena Pollineux?!"

    "... Yes, the very same."

    "Your little speech in the Grove of Steel has given you some measure of infamy among the fancy folk of The Convention, you know. I''d watch your step... Figuratively and literally, given you fell into a corpse pit with me."

    "I barely even remember doing it... Some man made the queen upset, and I just started yelling, and that''s about all I remember."

    "You really love our queen, huh?"

    "... More than you know, Mademoiselle Pasche."

    The gentlewoman, Pasche, seems rather pleased to be addressed in such a fashion, taking my hand and simply sitting with me a while. My heartbeat steadily lessens bit by bit, and eventually my magic wanes as I lay in that trench. I just hope my men are okay-

    "Monsieur Pasche, what are you doing in that trench?!" A voice, a loud male voice chastising from the top of the earthworks... Monsieur?

    Pasche grips my hand tighter, it seems the voice has upset Pasche considerably. "I am attending to a senior Avernian officer, General Malmo."

    Malmo... The man I am here to reinforce. Well, if he has the opportunity to chastise us like this then things must be going well enough for our forces... Maybe we won while I was stuck in a trench being invisibly important. Maybe I can finally give my heart a break.

    "Someone so utterly caked in filth, an officer of Avernia? Absurd!¡± After berating Pasche he turns his attention my way, looking no more inclined towards kindness. ¡°... Well, give your name then, so I know what to put in my report to The Convention."

    I slowly, shakily get to my feet, realizing just how blood-soaked and muddy I have become on my attempt to march with the men. "I am General Serena Pollineux, here to reinforce one ''General Malmo''."

    If I had my own Serena to give me courage, I might''ve added something snarky. Not that I need to, upon hearing the name ''Pollineux'' General Malmo¡¯s demeanor immediately shifts, and he quickly jumps into the trench to join us.

    "Ah! Forgive me mademoiselle! Please, allow me to escort you from this muddy hole in the ground and get you cleaned up... Monsieur Pasche, stop bothering the poor woman!"

    She squeezes my hand again, rougher this time... I may not have my own Serena, but right now I want Pasche to have one, giving her another taste of my magic. She stands, with very little of my help, then stares Malmo down with an intensity that could kill thousands.

    "Mademoiselle Pasche. You all know this; I have told you a thousand times."

    "I''m not inclined to show kindness to rebellious officers-"

    "It is not a ''kindness'', it is a simple fact, Malmo! It would hardly be the first time you ignored basic reality, our scouts noted the movement of Coalition forces days in advance and we couldn''t bring the artillery to bear? We couldn''t prepare a plan? We just stood there, waiting to be killed from the hills while you hid behind our walls! Would it be too much of a ''kindness'' to actually lead our forces on the front lines?!"

    "Monsieur Pasche, this disrespect will be written into my report to The Convention-"

    "FUCK YOUR CONVENTION!"

    Pasche throws a punch at Malmo... One which I weakly attempt to catch, which mercifully convinces Pasche to stop. Berating a senior officer is grounds for disciplinary action, striking one is definitely a court martial offense. And I¡¯d prefer to not see Pasche in a Grove of Steel, a sacrifice for traumatized young military officers.

    Instead, I think I want to see her in my army. "General Malmo, I believe I have a solution to your... Terse relationship with Mademoiselle Pasche here. If I take her into my army then the two of you will no longer feud, and I believe you will both be happier for it. Besides, I require capable cavalry officers like I require air."

    Malmo grits his teeth at my admittedly rather disrespectful offer, but he gives a little bow. "I am always happy to do a favor for a Pollineux, as you know... I would hope your brother would know as much as well."

    "I''m sure he''ll learn one way or another, General... I need to see to my infantry."

    "You need a bath."

    "The bath can wait, the soldiers can''t. I need to know what state my troops are in... I need to know what became of my cavalry, re-establish unit cohesion, ensure the supply train is intact so the men have a meal after this hard-worn battle, need to ensure the dead are buried, need to-"

    "These are jobs for junior officers and priests, General Pollineux." There¡¯s something intensely slimy about how he says my family name. "A general''s job is to look inspiring for the men, and to execute the will of The Convention."

    I consider a counterargument, before not making one. Not because I can''t think of one, I can think of several, but giving any of them meant talking to Malmo any more than I have to. I take my leave, Pasche in hand, and went to my duties as an actual general.

 Chapter Six

    I led five thousand soldiers into this butcher''s yard. Almost two thousand did not return to me alive. Another thousand did not return to me intact, clutching blood-soaked arms or dragging shattered legs behind them. About half of them won''t survive the medical tent, I''ve lost almost half of my infantry in a single engagement. The cavalry isn''t looking much better, eight hundred went to seize the Thuringian guns, five hundred returned, a handful without their horses... How am I meant to feel about this victory?

    The Earthworks surrounding the fort, the trenches and the firing positions, are simply too clogged with corpses to be usable anymore. Not usable as fortifications at any rate, the men found a purpose for them, turning them into impromptu mass graves for friend and foe alike. Hopefully a foot or two of cold earth will keep the ghouls away. Malmo''s priests of Leather spread red poppy seeds among the dead, a ravenous plant that will grow very well in that soil for having so many bodies as fertilizer.

    We count the men, we reorganize the survivors into new regiments, we honor the gods by sacrificing the prisoners to Steel, we ensure the supply wagons arrive intact and get the troops a meal, a slightly larger helping given how many mouths we no longer have to feed... Surely after all that my duty is finally done, and I can finally take a bath to wash the battlefield off me... But unfortunately, we have captured someone important. A colonel, and a colonel that Malmo cautioned me against talking to. Which is just suspicious enough to make me request the right to interrogate the man, even if it means putting up with Malmo ¡®supervising¡¯.

    "You look like shit, mademoiselle." The colonel does speak Avernian as it turns out, although he seems to have learned some words a little too well. "We must be about to win the fucking war if they''re sending women in uniform to fight us."

    "I wouldn''t concern yourself with the wider war right now, colonel. After all, if you do not cooperate, well, no army in the world will be able to save you from us." Pasche had decided to join me in the interrogation, and thank the gods for it, I am completely lost when it comes to intimidating people.

    "You think you scare me, woma-AGH!"

    With a single fluid motion Pasche draws her saber and cuts off one of the man''s fingers, glaring at him with an intensity that might cut off another finger all its own. "I think I am scary, monsieur. And I act accordingly."

    I wince at the sight, Malmo averts his eyes entirely. Pasche was so gentle when I had first met her in that pit full of corpses¡­ But this is certainly effective. While Malmo and I now are quite scared of Pasche, our prisoner has been rendered terrified.

    Between curses in German the mutilated colonel pathetically wails. "This... This is against the conduct of war! This is not how gentlemen on a battlefield conduct themselves!"

    "Do you see any gentlemen here, monsieur?" Pasche is especially incensed by this little scream, raising her saber for another swing, halting only as the man flinches in response. "... I think you''ve finally realized what you''re dealing with here."

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m still here...¡± Malmo mumbles under his breath, apparently displeased to not be counted as a ¡®gentleman¡¯, or as not visible.

    "Where are the rest of the Coalition forces, monsieur?" I decide to chime in, I''m starting to feel sorry for the poor colonel. "How many, how many guns?"

    He only manages to scrape together the sheer minimum of composure required to answer me, still struggling against his restraints and failing to clutch his fingerless hand. "H... How should I know? The Icenians are the only ones keeping track of that kind of thing, they''re the only ones stupid enough to think this war is a group effort!"

    "... So, the Thuringian army was acting unilaterally? ... Why not wait for your allies? We barely clawed a victory here. If you''d had anyone by your side then Malmo¡¯s forces would have lost the fort before my forces could even arrive."

    "If we did that it would ruin the whole point of the attack! If we Thuringians could break the Army of the East ourselves then we''d have a head start charging into Avernia, we''d be able to secure towns and cities before anyone else, and our archaeologists would be able to-"

    "Archaeologists?!" Pasche brings her fist down on a nearby table, cracking the wood with a single, heavy strike.... "This is a war, monsieur. What possible use could archaeologists have? I can''t imagine you''re attempting to advance the knowledge of pre-Carthaginian anthropology in Avernia!"

    The colonel tries to force a laugh, before taking a second look at Pasche and deciding against it. "... Do you idiots even know why this war started?"

    I raise an eyebrow, I¡¯ve heard snippets here and there but it dawns on me that the Marshal never actually told us why half of La''an declared war on Avernia all at once. "... Was it The Convention of Humanity? I can imagine the nations of La''an are scared that republican ideals might spread and-"

    "Your ''republican ideals'' are going to fall apart within a decade, no one is scared of your little experiment. Except maybe Icenia, but they''ve always been a little... Odd. In any case, we''re not here for Avernia, or Avernians. We''re here for The Heart."

    "... I beg your pardon?"

    "All our kings and princes received the same letter; The Heart had been found somewhere in Avernia. So, every nation in La''an that thought they had a chance raised their armies so they could scour the country for it. Some have tried more... Subtle methods, but those never panned out. It was decided military occupation would be required to find the thing, so we formed the Coalition to destroy the Avernian army... And then prepared to kill each other the moment Avernia was open."

    "All for... What the hell is ¡®The Heart¡¯?" ... Such language from me, am I finally becoming a soldier?

    "Someone higher up must really not trust you if they haven''t even told you that! The Heart is-"

    "That''s quite enough of that nonsense!" Malmo stands to his feet, staring a hole into the Colonel in question. ¡°Sir, if you are going to spin wild fantasies and conspiracy theories rather than give us any concrete information about The Coalition¡¯s armies, then this interrogation is over!¡±

    Pasche is barely resisting the urge to raise her saber again, and I''m tempted to let her. "What are you doing, Malmo?!"

    "The Convention has heard rumors about this supposed ''Heart'' and has decided that they are bad for social cohesion and unity. As such, they have made spreading such lies a criminal offense. I would rather you not be at risk of learning information that might cause you to be brought to a Grove of Steel."

    Laws against information? Isn''t the Convention of Humanity supposed to be... ''Humanistic''? Seems the nascent republic won¡¯t tell me about this thing that could spark a La''anian war... Her Majesty would be kind enough to do so, surely¡­

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    Malmo is already halfway out the door, dragging the Colonel out of the tent roughly by the arm when he turns back for a moment, giving a parting shot. "I''d take that bath now, Mademoiselle Pollineux. I''ve had a priest of Velvet prepare it for you."

    I want to vomit. I have some idea of what he means by that, even playing in the Groves of Velvet as a child gave me a vague notion of what happened there when the day ended and the children all went home. I wonder what kind of ¡®normal¡¯ would make that seem like a nice gesture. I get to my feet and decide that Pasche might be a necessary addition to my bath time. Priests and priestesses can be insistent sorts, it is an admirable trait except when it isn''t.

    "Pasche, if you would accompany me?"

    "... I... Excuse me, mademoiselle but-"

    "Serena, please. I think I''ll need someone to protect me from Malmo''s little kindness. And I''d certainly prefer the company of a woman over a... A priest of Velvet of all things."

    "Bu- But."

    "If you''re worried that it is improper, don''t be. Just treat me like any other soldier, we needn''t bring rank or status into this."

    "No, that''s not what I mean-"

    I throw out my power and catch Pasche in it. She¡¯s still remarkably nervous, even for something I am certain is a normal thing for women to do together. It''s hardly like I invited her to take Lazierte''s spot after all, I wasn''t asking her to be my best friend and be bent like me. Just to keep me company and keep a priest away from me. Pasche''s eyes glaze over just a little, which I am certain is not typically an effect of my power, and she nods her assent.

    "I... If you wish, Serena."

    She still looks nervous despite agreeing, despite my power... Odd. Still, she does follow me, and follows me all the way to the makeshift bathhouse. Warm baths are more a luxury for officers, the troops typically bathed in rivers, or not at all, so there was no queue. And as Malmo arranged, a man in thin satin robes stands outside, a smile on his face, though one which did not reach his eyes.

    "The water is simply divine, mademoiselle Pollineux. Care to join me-"

    "I am going to have no need of your services, monsieur. And I imagine there are troops waiting on the... Ministrations of Velvet. Perhaps you should go to them."

    "General Malmo specifically requested I be assigned to you, he said you seemed stressed."

    "No number of men in my bath are going to make me less stressed, monsieur."

    It is perhaps not the best thing to admit to blasphemy in front of a priest, but in fairness it is a blasphemy against Wool to be ¡®bent¡¯, and Wool and Velvet are at odds as far as gods went, almost to the extent of Wool and Cotton. Their priests and priestesses never get along, perhaps this priest might forgive this little... Ungodly proclivity of mine.

    ... While I believed there was an outside chance he wouldn''t shame me for having no interest in his gender, I was remarkably surprised to find him simply rolling with it. "Shall I fetch a priestess then, Mademoiselle-"

    "I would like. To have. A bath. Please."

    The priest seems desperately confused, at least until his eyes catch Pasche, which clearly makes her more than a little uncomfortable. "Ahhhh! I see now. Very well, enjoy your bath, ladies."

    The priest seems to almost be genuinely giggling under his breath as he makes his exit, almost... Something about his amusement seems utterly artificial¡­ Is this normal too, for a priest or priestess of Velvet to seem so absent? Like they are lying about being happy or engaged? The priestesses back home always seemed so cheerful, was that just because I knew them as a child? I take a breath to swallow the thought, I¡¯d prefer not to think about the Goddess of Beauty and vague notions right now. I''d prefer to take a bath. I enter the bathhouse and begin to undress, and Pasche... Takes her sweet time following. And takes her sweet time undressing at that.

    All the courage I can give can''t overcome her anxiety... I will have to talk her through this, won''t I? "Pasche, is something the matter?"

    Pasche looks down, as if her eyes can dig a tunnel and escape. "... I just¡­ I am aware that you don''t much care for men in your bath."

    "... I fail to see how that is relevant-"

    "You know how Malmo insists on calling me Monsieur?"

    "With some amount of venom, yes. It seems rather absurd of him to insist on such a thing, you''re a very obvious mademoiselle and an enthusiastic one at that."

    "I am... I certainly am that. However... My body disagrees."

    "... Your body disagrees?"

    "My body is ummm... I can''t say it is that of a man, it is my body, and I am not that. But it is... Shaped in a way that makes those who might examine me disrobed to make assumptions."

    "... Pasche, you''re confusing me-"

    "I have a- ... I may happen to have..."

    "... Oh."

    It finally dawns on me what Pasche is driving at... I didn''t know such a thing was actually possible, to have been born with a body that doesn''t communicate your innermost identity. It sounds difficult, especially when folks like Malmo are going out of their way trying to make it a problem... I can''t say that even after learning this however that I feel any particular inclination to consider Pasche anything other than a woman. And perhaps even a friend. Certainly now an officer in my army.

    "... Serena, please say something, I am very scared-"

    And I think I may not want to bathe alone after the day I''ve had. "Care to join me in the bath, mademoiselle? It''s been a long, messy day."

    Pasche is brighter than the sun itself for just a moment, before giving a nod. "I think I would love to get this mud out of my hair."

    Pasche did disrobe, and while there are some stereotypically male... Aspects, to her body, I still can''t see anything other than a woman before me. Even those ''aspects'' have a feminine aura about them, it¡¯s in the way she carried herself, in her temperament she simply is a woman... A starving woman, mind, she¡¯s all skin and bones under her cuirass and uniform, much like Lazierte in that respect... I''ll have to see if I can fix that, I won''t have her passing out during a charge.

    She smiles at me from the very bottom of herself as I lead her into the bath. How can anyone not want to see this smile? How could anyone try to deny her this euphoria?

 Chapter Seven

    The bath water is simply divine after the¡­ Everything that had happened today. It was genuinely hard to know just how much pain I was in until I was immersed in comfort, finally aware of all the little scrapes and immense soreness from my charge, and my fall. I rush in, and to my slight shame Pasche is a little more reserved, slipping in quietly after me. She seems amused by my enthusiasm, even as the clear embarrassment at joining me in the bath returned to her. Knowing the context now it is a little less frustrating, and honestly a little more adorable, so I gesture for her to move in closer. My magic can¡¯t help whatever this is, but apparently I can... And that feels nice. Almost like having my very own Serena.

    "Pasche, would you like some help with your hair?" Hers, much like mine, is utterly caked in blood and dirt courtesy of that trench we had shared.

    She takes a moment to pause, but eventually she makes her way over to me. It''s not a large bath. There isn''t much space to hide from me in this bath, but it is a comfort to have her come to me rather than the other way around.

    "I haven''t had a proper bath since I was back home in Etrun... I did miss it dearly." She allows herself to finally relax, seated next to me, seemingly about to rest her head on my shoulder.

    It probably isn''t the best idea for me to be mischievous, but I find that simply must be! I slip an arm around Pasche''s shoulders, and before she can react I gently pull her down, laying across my lap, her head half submerged in the water. The look on her face is honestly priceless, but I am allowed to appreciate it because it is also entirely necessary.

    "May as well enjoy it to the fullest then! Just relax, I''ll get the mud off you."

    I run a hand over her hair. It''s tangled and knotted and utterly saturated with mud, but the warm water is already working its magic. I make sure to be slow and gentle, I hardly want to cause the poor girl any discomfort after all. Going by the look on Pasche''s face however, it seems she''s found a discomfort all her own.

    "Pasche, is everything okay?" I stop my hand, just in case I''ve been hurting her in my attempt to wash her hair.

    She hurriedly looks away, trying to stare anywhere other than up at me. "I just... I uhhh..."

    "... Oh! You''ve just never met someone from Kerska, huh?" At this point I¡¯m just spitballing, but whatever''s troubling her, she can just pretend it''s that if she doesn''t care to tell me. "You said you were from Etrun, right? That''s up north in Belgica if I remember right, I can imagine you''ve never met someone who looks so Carthaginian."

    "That''s... Not quite it." She is still staring away from me nervously, though she switches gears as one of her eyebrows rises. "Come to think of it, you are right. I''ve never met a fellow Avernian with your particular skin tone. Kerska was part of the Carthaginian Empire till only a few decades ago, how DID a Carthaginian trade outpost end up in the Avernian High Kingdom anyway?"

    "... That sounds like a really weird story to relay in the bath, Pasche." Now it¡¯s my turn to be a little nervous, no-one who hears about the Pollineux family''s ''illustrious history with Avernia'' comes away from it thinking any higher of us.

    "Oh... Sorry." She is withdrawing again¡­

    And I can¡¯t have that... "Haaaah, fine. Okay, so it started around forty years ago with a man named Caoilis, the governor of the island, who saw the Carthaginian Empire falling apart and decided he wanted out before he and his island fell right along with it."

    This tends to be the part of the story where people get bored and tune out entirely... But Pasche listens on with interest, like she cares about the history of my tiny little island home. "This would be around the time that New Carthage was finally retaken by the natives of the Leather Continent, right?"

    "I... Yes, it was only a few years after that." I almost feel the need to clap, not many people know about the New Carthage colony, that utterly horrifying failure¡­ Even I only know about it well enough to know its relevance to my family¡¯s history. "So, this man, Caoilis, gets the support of all the rich and powerful people of Kerska, and declares it independent from the Carthaginian Empire, names it ''The Grand Duchy of Kerska'', and himself as its grand duke."

    "... How big is Kerska exactly?"

    "About the size of your average barony, maybe smaller. And it mostly just produces fish and feral cats, it''s hardly an economic powerhouse."

    "Calling it a grand duchy is-"

    "A bit presumptuous?"

    "Really fucking stupid."

    My eyes go wide, I didn''t expect such language from someone I am sharing a bath with! Is this just normal for people from Northern Avernia? Or... Or is Pasche just the kind of person who would say such things? ... Has she simply been a soldier longer than me? Am I going to use language like that before too long?

    Pasche finally looks back up to me, regarding me curiously. "Umm... I don''t think that''s where the story ends, is it Serena?"

    "Ah!" I snap myself out of my thoughts and shake my head, there certainly is more of the story to get to, and there will be time later to be shocked by my new friend''s vocabulary. "So, Carthage sends a threat, saying they won''t tolerate rebellion and that soon there will be Carthaginian boots on the ground in Kerska, and warships shelling the harbor and the towns. The Grand Duchy tried to raise a militia, but they couldn''t actually find any muskets or ammunition to arm them, and they only had one cannon, an old one. They couldn''t fight the Empire on their own."

    "And that''s where Avernia comes in?"

    "Exactly. One of the rich and powerful men that Caoilis had allied with in the first place came up with a plan. No one wants to go back to Carthage, the Old Empire is falling apart at the seams and it wasn''t all that great to us even at the height of its power... But we couldn''t go it alone. So, this man came up with a plan to approach the Avernians, to offer submission to their High Kingdom in exchange for protection. Avernia was on board, they figured they could turn Kerska into a fortress to protect their interests in the Carthaginian Sea. The only one who wasn''t on board was Caoilis himself."

    "... It seemed like a fair deal, what was Caoilis'' objection?"

    "That Kerska would be downgraded from ''Grand Duchy'' to ''County''... The way my father tells the story paints a slightly dire picture of Caoilis'' vanity."

    "It''s... Not the most unbelievable thing I''ve heard of a leader doing."

    "That frightens me." I nervously chuckle, the prospect that everything I''ve been told about my family''s history might be true is a slightly harrowing one. "Anyway, that rich man decided that, simply put, Caoilis didn''t need to be part of this deal. He chartered a ship in secret to ferry over a hundred Avernian soldiers. They took over the island without a fight, arrested Caoilis, and made that rich man the new Count of Avernia, promising the islanders protection from the Carthaginians."

    "Sounds like a rather sneaky thing to do."

    "Yeah... People do say that about my father a lot."

    There is an awkward silence after that, with Pasche realizing that she may have accidentally poked a wound, and me having my wound poked... At least I manage to get the last of the mud out of Pasche''s hair, now moving on to scrub the rest of her-

    "It was probably a necessary one though. Carthage might''ve been willing to start a war with a tiny island with no army and defenses, but they probably couldn''t fight an opponent with teeth. I think your father might have done the right-est thing his situation allowed."

    "Hehe... That''s because you haven''t heard the punchline to this absurd story. The part only the Pollineux family knows." I wipe a small bit of the dirt off Pasche''s face, I seem to have her enraptured attention now. "The threat was a complete fabrication. Carthage was in no state to send anyone to bring us back into the fold and honestly had no intention to try. Their soldiers were too busy fighting the war with the Malian Empire and trying to hold the fracturing empire apart, just in case anywhere more important decided to have a go at independence. The Grand Duchy was never in any danger... My father made it up, and used the threat as an excuse to legitimize his coup and sell the country to Avernia."

    "... Oh." She seems utterly lost for a moment, there really isn¡¯t a way to spin this in a way that reflects well on my family.

    "After that father changed our family name to Pollineux, made Avernian the official language of the island, and changed everything to fit our new world... And that''s how a Carthaginian girl ends up in the Avernian High Kingdom I guess. A grand betrayal."

    "... You seem unhappy." Pasche, albeit slowly and reluctantly, reaches up to touch my face, wiping some dirt away herself. "Are you okay?"

    "Oh it''s just... Usually when people hear the whole story, they tend to condemn my family as opportunists and traitors. And it''s hard to blame them seeing as our patriarch literally is both of those things. It''s weird, having a privileged position ''earned'' by bad things." Pasche''s touch does honestly help a little bit, but airing out the family history is always a little hard.

    "Thank you for sharing your story with me, Serena." Pasche''s sheer sincerity is genuinely a little shocking, I almost jump in the face of it. "... History''s good because it can tell us what absolutely will not work, so we don''t end up trying it a second time. Learning it, knowing it, at least increases the chances that your fuck-ups will be completely original."

    "Heh... It''s like you''re trying to tell me that my family''s¡­ ¡®Screw-ups¡¯ are a positive, a point in my favor."

    "It is, in a way. Because you are forced to know them, you have to be embarrassed and upset by them. Which means, you''re a person who knows not to do what your father did. Which is a step closer to morality than most folks get, right?" Pasche sits up, pulling herself away from her place on my lap, now entirely clean and honestly quite beautiful for it, or possibly beautiful for the sentiment. "You don''t really inherit your parents'' guilt, just the lessons they should have learned. Hehe, so you''d best not do anything traitorous or sneaky, or else that''s entirely on you I guess-"

    I admittedly probably shouldn''t have followed that up with something traitorous and sneaky, but I can''t help myself. I lay myself on Pasche''s lap like she had laid upon mine, looking up to her with a smile. I guess I''m the only one at fault for little treachery, not my family... Which is an oddly comforting thought. That my mistakes are all my own.

    Pasche looks utterly mortified to have me down here, quickly adjusting her seating so I sit higher up her lap, her voice suddenly something of a squeak. "Y... You can''t just- I mean- You shouldn''t-"

    "I washed your hair; I was hoping you might wash mine." I smile up at the utterly flustered girl above me, hoping my appreciation of her words is apparent.

    She audibly gulps before getting to work on my hair, quickly and efficiently, keeping her attention squarely there. She is honestly very good at this, better than I''d expect from a cuirassier. I didn''t know hairdressing was a skill so associated with heavy cavalry.

    Maybe a nice compliment might distract her from whatever has her nervous. "... I can''t remember the last time I had my hair attended to so skillfully. You could probably do this for a living."

    This only serves to make her curl up a little in shame. "Please don''t compliment me, I''m just doing what I usually do... Did, to Chestnut. She would get mud in her hair all the time."

    So, she''s treating me like a horse... I¡¯d be vaguely insulted if I didn''t have context for this. "You really like horses, don''t you?"

    "They''re loyal animals, and not... Well, they can be judgmental. If you don''t approach them with confidence then they will bully you. But they aren''t vain, I guess is the best way to put it. They respect things that seem more ''real'' than what most nobles respect. And they''re a lot more amenable to hearing me talk about history facts than most humans are."

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Then I''ll take you treating me like a horse as a compliment."

    "Please don''t... Ah, not that I mean you should treat it like an insult! More just... Y''know..." I''ve gone and flustered her again, what is it about me that keeps doing that today? "Treat it like me being an idiot, I guess?"

    "I don''t think I can do that, not after you pulled out that little speech about my family and everything." I give a chuckle, hoping it might put her at ease, but I cease when I remember something that might be a little more reliable. "You seem to know your stuff about history, and people and the like. I don''t think you''re an idiot at all."

    "Heh, I only really know about people I''ve never met, that I''m far away from in distance and time. When it comes to the ones in front of me I can be a bit of a mess... You only learn so much about people from books, y''know, and no amount of reading about ''charismatic people'' can make you charming."

    "Well then you''re doing that all on your own then, aren''t you?"

    The noise that left Pasche at that moment could best be described as utterly broken. It seems the more Pasche knows she is doing well the more horrified she becomes. And the more she feels the need to adjust her hips, as if trying to shrink away from me. It''s strange, I thought people liked having nice things said about them... I''m hardly going to try doing the opposite to see if that works for her.

    She eventually manages to recover the ability to form words, as opposed to violently squeaking, although her voice is still a bit high-pitched. "In any case... I''m sorry if I say or do anything silly. I''m not really used to people; I didn''t even get along all that well with my betrothed-"

    "Wait, you''re married?!" That came as a rather sharp surprise... Sharper than I expected honestly.

    "Narrowly avoided it actually... It''s funny really, the moment I started warming to the concept of marrying her, The Convention arrested my dad and sent me to war. Sometimes you really can''t win."

    "... The Convention arrested your Father?" And I thought my family history was tangled, Pasche seems to be her own can of worms entirely. "... Pasche, I think I want to know your story now; it sounds more interesting than mine."

    "But... But yours was actual history! The kind of thing that will be written in books, that future people will study one day. My little personal drama isn''t ever going to be written down anywhere, no one''s going to learn anything from it-"

    "I don''t care about future people. I want to know more about the present person I''m sharing a bath with." I offer her my very finest smile from where I lay upon her, which only flusters her further.

    "... Well, let''s see if we can''t change that I guess." She looks away from my head entirely, washing my hair by feeling alone, but at least she manages to keep talking. "I uhhh... So, I''m the only child of the Baron in Etrun. Mom ran off with some penniless bard soon after I was born to hear him tell it, so it was just us and the servants. Dad would have me train for the battlefield, grow strong and hardy and good on horseback, and the servants would sneak me the books I wanted... All kinds, but mostly history books."

    "... I don''t see where in that story I''d stop being interested in you." Although my eyes do take in Pasche''s form a little more closely, vaguely muscular but horribly malnourished, more so than even Lazierte... And Lazierte isn''t the daughter of a baron.

    "Well, it''s sort of the reason I was interested in books that might do it... I never much liked people; you see. It was awkward being around them, having them treat me as ''one of the boys'' and the like. No matter how much I explained myself, they just wouldn''t listen. Some would ignore me, others like my dad would get angry. I ended up just giving up on social events making friends entirely... And took instead to studying people in books, studying history... I wanted to see if anyone ''like me'' had ever walked Lutice before."

    "... And had there been?"

    "If there were then they either weren''t important enough to be written about, or actively chosen to be ignored... Maybe there''s a whole treasure trove of people throughout history who were just like me. Who were also ignored, just like me."

    "Sounds like that''s an ''everyone else'' problem, not a ''you'' problem."

    "... Maybe. But I never really learned how to be in the company of other people. And I certainly never learned how to... Uhh... Behave in the company of fellow women. I must confess to having something of a fondness for them, even being a woman myself."

    "You too?" I see Pasche''s gaze turn back to mine as I admit to my own ''bent''ness, as if she was learning something historic. "I... I must confess I''ve never much cared for men in that way. But women are just... Honestly irresistible at times."

    "I... I completely agree! ... But I never really learned how to uhhh... Actually, speak to one, if that makes sense." And now she''s looking again, and almost shaking with nerves. "So I never really tried, I just sort of shut down in their presence, the presence of anyone really but especially women I found appealing... I was considered something of an ''eligible bachelor'' in the small pond of Northern Avernia and the Cimmerian Union, so a great many people were interested in knowing me and I just felt... Like I''d be a let-down if they ever actually realized that I was a woman like I kept saying. It felt bad, and I ended up retreating even further."

    "Because most women aren''t bent like us, you mean."

    "Yeah... The world wanted me to be a certain way that I wasn''t and... And it seemed to be disappointing a lot of beautiful people that I wasn''t that way."

    ... She¡¯s abnormal, same as me... I want to give the poor girl a hug.

    Wait, I can give the poor girl a hug, she''s right there!

    I roll over on her lap and wrap my arms around the poor girl¡¯s waist, which almost makes her jump with fright. "S... Serena?!"

    "I uhh... I also know what it''s like to not be the thing the world wishes you to be. And what it''s like to disappoint people just by being yourself... And it sounds like you have it even worse than me. I''m sorry that you also know how it feels."

    "Serena..." She calms herself for a moment... Before tensing again and readjusting herself. "It ummm... It stings. And I worry I may have hurt my betrothed because of it."

    "... I don''t think you''d be capable of that, Pasche."

    "I have to know I am... When my father finally got sick of my avoidant behavior he took matters into his own hands and had me betrothed to the daughter of a Cimmerian Countess... Ah! It''s not uncommon for Cimmerian nobility to marry both Icenians and Avernians as part of maintaining their neutrality amongst ''Celtic brothers'' because-"

    I smile, trying my absolute best to absorb the historical context, but it slides off my brain like warm, comforting water. It¡¯s fascinating, but it doesn¡¯t quite grip me.

    And Pasche restrains herself, to my shame. "Ahem, moving on. She came to live with us, but we didn''t really have much to talk about. She didn''t have a mind for history, I didn''t have a mind for plants and forests and the like. We both liked horses but that was less something we shared and more something we simply both did... And I felt a distance from her, even as we were right next to one another by father''s insistence."

    "And you worry that hurt her?"

    "Yeah... It was rather neglectful of me... And even these feelings are selfish. I only really came to care about how my neglect might have been impacting her after... Well, after I borrowed one of her dresses... Having a woman around meant having her wardrobe around, and we had similar builds and it was just too much of a temptation... She caught me wearing it, looking in a mirror and smiling. And do you know what she said?"

    I brace myself, preparing for something horrifying. "What did she say, Pasche?"

    "... She said I might look nicer in something red... She had one for me to try, and it really did look better and I just... I think I finally felt close to her. Things may have followed from there..."

    "Things?"

    "Kissing things... Stripping things... Other things..."

    "Ah-" Now it¡¯s my turn to look away, face utterly flustered as Velvet thoughts try to find a place in my head. "I... I see your meaning."

    Pasche audibly swallows, trying to regain at least some of our mutual composure. "... Soon after that, Dad was arrested by The Convention. The local peasants held a vote and unanimously ruled that he''d overtaxed them, and The Convention saw an opportunity to win loyalty in the North... It wasn''t much of a secret that he wasn''t a good baron to live under, but I never knew just how bad it was until The Convention came around with its troops. Marie ended up having to go home after that, just as I had started to appreciate her company. I would have been alone in our family house, if The Convention hadn''t decided to forcibly recruit me to the army. After all, Dad had trained me well how to ride a horse and swing a sword, and good cavalry is always in demand. It was a sensible decision in that sense."

    "... The Convention forced you to go to war?"

    "It was that or be sacrificed to Steel to earn my freedom... And I didn''t want to be separated from Chestnut." She gives a little chuckle, remembering the tragedy of a few hours ago, but it carries more sorrow than any cry. "You want to know something? ... Chestnut was a gift from Marie. Part of the dowry technically but, I took her to be a gift. Hehe, and now she''s gone like everyone else is."

    "Pasche... You are allowed to cry." I slowly slip myself off of her lap, back to a sitting position, and put a hand upon her shoulder. "You don''t have to pretend to be someone else around me, a stoic who isn''t bent and doesn''t cry. It''s okay."

    Pasche simply stares at me a moment, as if trying to gauge whether or not I was real. And much like with Lazierte, I remain profoundly real. And remarkably hold-able, which became very clear as Pasche takes me into her embrace and begins to weep for her lost horse, and presumably her lost life in Etrun. A life I can give back, which she can never get back while being in my service... But I can at least give her something new, right?

    So I wrap my arms around her in turn, held her close to me... And cast my spell on her again. I''m not sure she needs the bravery, I''m not quite sure what she needs... But it felt nice, having my heart beat with hers for a while. For once my spell was not compelling someone to act, forcing bravery and virtue upon them. It was just... Sharing space. Being together. Being one.

    I move in closer, held her tighter¡­ And felt something odd poking my ribs as Pasche continued to weep¡­ And I realize in a hurry why she was so often moving her legs while I was on her lap. Oh dear, I¡¯ve been cruel to the poor girl¡­ Pasche quickly notices, holding back her tears and staring at me with guilt-ridden horror. She even tries to withdraw from me¡­ But I don¡¯t let her.

    I smile to counter her horrified look. ¡°You¡¯re okay, Pasche. You¡¯re home.¡±

    Like with Lazierte, this has to be normal, so long as I¡¯m okay with it¡­ And I am perfectly okay with Pasche right now. With her being added to my sense of normal. And I suppose she agrees as she holds me tighter now, even as the tears start to dry up.

    ¡°¡­ Serena, I never wanted to be a cuirassier. I never wanted to go to war. But now that you¡¯re here I think I want to stay¡­ I may not be the best officer or the best soldier but¡­ If you¡¯d let me, I think I would like to be your knight¡­¡± There¡¯s an awkward pause, as if Pasche learned in a single instant how ridiculous that is. ¡°¡­ If that makes sense. Which it probably doesn¡¯t and I-¡°

    ¡°If you want to be a knight for me then I will happily accept a knight into my service. You history dork.¡± I can¡¯t help but give the giggling little barb, and thankfully it seems to amuse Pasche as much as it does me. ¡°Hehe, my very own brave and noble knight.¡±

 Chapter Eight

    "Did you enjoy the bath, General Pollineux?"

    "We did, thank you General Malmo."

    Pasche and I enter the command tent together, which raises an eyebrow from Malmo before he simply shakes his head. I have to assume I''ve given him the wrong impression, but in honesty I don''t care what malformed thoughts rot in his mind. So long as they don''t get in the way of military strategy.

    "... Does your new friend have to join us in the command tent-"

    "Pasche is one of my officers, I would have her counsel when developing strategy."

    "Strategy? We did just WIN a battle, you know. Work can wait at least a little while, can''t it?" My eyes drift down and I realize I have interrupted the general during dinner.

    How rude of Malmo, to interrupt our planning by having a meal. "We''re in a broken palisade surrounded by corpses, this isn''t a win, and this cannot wait. This position is entirely indefensible and we need to get the troops moving as quickly as possible."

    "Move? Impossible, the newspapers wouldn''t allow a retreat from captured territory, we''d be cowards in the eyes of the people."

    "Sounds to me like you''re more scared of printed type than musket balls."

    "The fact that you aren''t utterly baffles me, General Pollineux... Ah, not to say that it isn''t utterly charming and in keeping with the Pollineux name, of course." Somehow, I am more comfortable with Malmo''s slightly contemptful bafflement than his hagiography. His incredibly warped priorities and thinly veiled venom at least read as honest.

    Pasche takes my hand and squeezes it, before whispering into my ear. "It''s... Not a bad idea to try and keep the press in mind. Neither The Convention, nor The Royal Family can be seen to invest in failure. If we displease them, we''re unlikely to receive reinforcement or resupply when we need it."

    My head droops, somehow the Academy hadn''t seen fit to talk about how the domestic press were as likely to kill Avernia as our adversaries. Perhaps that lesson was for third years and I''d simply missed it. After all, Malmo managed to learn it somewhere, even if he didn''t seem to know much else.

    Malmo takes another bite of his dinner, his fine porcelain plate sitting right on the big map of Alemannia. "So, there you go, we can''t move anywhere so there''s no point wasting time discussing things. Why don''t you join me for dinner, mademoiselle? You must be starving after the day you''ve had."

    I have to admit I am just a little bit tempted. Malmo''s personal chef seems able to make things smell delicious and if there is nothing we can do then there is nothing we can do. And falling into a ditch and almost losing my entire heartbeat in a mad charge to rescue the fort did take a lot out of me¡­

    My eyes catch something on the map Malmo was using for a tablecloth, and I realize that there is something we can do. "... We can''t stay here, and we can''t go back. But that still leaves us one more option. Moving forward."

    Malmo''s eyes go wide, and he slowly puts down his fork and knife in the manner of a proper gentleman. "... I beg your pardon?"

    I point out a nearby spot on the map, an old castle from the days of Jeanne''s war against the Magyars. "There. A much more defensible location, only a day''s march further away from the border, with stone walls and firing positions to set up cannons. We''d be relatively safe there, and capturing it would certainly earn the admiration of the press, would it not? Thus we could secure reinforcement and be able to hold it against counterattack. It''s a perfect plan!"

    "... Perfect except for the part where our utterly mauled forces have to seize a castle from the enemy."

    "They wouldn''t be expecting an attack after the thrashing they''ve given us, they won''t be prepared. And besides, we gave them something of a black eye as well, didn''t we?"

    "And there¡¯s the fact we''d be over-extending ourselves, how are supplies going to reach us if they have to brave the entire road to the castle?"

    "Hmmm..."

    I ponder this for a moment, before noticing a little something on the map peeking out from underneath Malmo''s dinner plate. I move the plate aside, earning a frankly pained look from the General across the table. But this is war, this is serious business, delicious smelling food can wait!

    "That... That is my dinner-"

    "There. That oppidum on the hill, if we could fortify it then we''d have a secure place to dominate the supply road. It provides good vision of the surrounding countryside, we just need to station a garrison there to intercept any bandits or would-be raiders that could try to ambush our supplies."

    "We''d have to split our forces..."

    "Only temporarily. You can march on the castle, put it under siege, earn some headlines, and get your name in the papers, while I can secure the supply road. Seems to me that getting your name out there is your relevant area of expertise, is it not?"

    "I suppose it is- Wait, is that an insult?"

    It absolutely is, and it leaves me wondering when I became such a snarky individual... I notice out of the corner of my eye that Pasche is smirking, which gives me something approaching an answer. "It is an accurate assessment of your skills in a strategic context, it''s good to be good at something."

    "Right..."

    "So, what do you think, General? If we stay here we''re dead, if we retreat then we''re supposedly worse than dead, and if we move forward we might live AND you might get famous. Which plan do you think is best?"

    General Malmo takes a few moments to consider my proposal, a few moments clearly beset by a kind of existential despair I have never seen before. "... You certainly are a Pollineux..."

    The disappointment and dread with which he says it makes me proud to hear my family name for once, I can take pride in being my brother''s sister for the first time in two years. "I''ll deliver the marching orders to my troops tomorrow; we have to get moving quickly... But we can let the men get a good night''s sleep after the battle they''ve had."

    "Only a single night of rest?"

    "I presume they''d prefer decisive command over comfortable command."

    "I suppose..." Malmo, seeking a source of comfort after agreeing to my plan, drifts his attention back to his plate. "Now that the shop talk is out of the way, how about that dinner-¡±

    "I think I''ll take my meal with the troops, gauge their morale, make sure there aren''t any problems forming among the ranks... See you at the castle, Malmo."

    "Wait!" Malmo stands up, putting on a concerned affect utterly undermined by his clearly calculating eyes. "... At least allow me to offer you some measure of protection while you''re away. We found you alone in a ditch today, I believe you might require some more dedicated guards."

    "... You found me with Pasche, Malmo."

    "All the same, I would like to offer you the services of some of my finest troops as bodyguards. All good men, well disciplined, good shots, loyal to The Convention to a tee. And every man of them is willing to die if necessary."

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Loyal to The Convention... The words make me want to say no right there and then, what little I know of this Convention is that it was big on information control and upsetting Her Majesty. However, another little whisper from Pasche stops me before I can decline.

    "I think you should take up his offer, Serena... It wouldn''t do for you to be hurt, and if I''m to be commanding your cavalry then I can''t be by your side all the time, regrettably."

    I whisper back, much to Malmo''s apparent frustration, being left out of the loop. "Loyalty to The Convention isn''t precisely the best trait, Pasche. I would prefer an army as uncomplicated as possible."

    "Loyalty to The Convention has more than one meaning, Serena. Yes, it means what it says, but it also means that someone has access to the latest military hardware. Rifles, grenades, fine swords, most of the magnates in charge of war material production happen to have cushy positions lined up in The Convention of Humanity''s prospective Senate, so the best stuff always goes to Republican Loyalists. It might do you some good to have some well-equipped troops about, when we were examining your forces I was surprised by just how... Old everything your troops were given is."

    "They still won, didn''t they?"

    "They won against a distracted enemy that they attacked from behind, in a stand-up fight things could go very differently... And having some riflemen to pick off enemy officers is a boon on a battlefield. It''s a force multiplier, if you use it right-"

    "Picking off officers?!" My incredulity almost causes me to be audible to Malmo, who is drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. "Wouldn''t it be dishonorable-"

    "Officers are men like any other, if you had a problem killing people you wouldn''t be here."

    "We still need to draw some lines, Pasche!"

    "I completely agree, this just happens to be a line that is stupid... Not to imply that you''re- I mean..."

    Pasche desperately attempts to whisper the words she said back into her mouth, but she has raised a good point. An officer is hardly any more sacred than any other person, and their deaths could lead to disorientation among enemy lines... Perhaps I¡¯m being hasty in shooting down her idea, it¡¯s a natural reaction on my part... But not a correct one.

    "No... You''re right, I think you make a good point... Thank you for your counsel, Pasche."

    I give her a smile to demonstrate my sincerity, which leads her to look down in a futile attempt to hide a blush. "You''re... You''re welcome, Serena. I''m happy to offer you my opinions-"

    "I''m still here, you two!" Malmo''s impatience has finally reached a boiling point, with him pathetically bringing a fist down on the table, rubbing it after. "Owww... In any case, my proposal, Mademoiselle?"

    I look Malmo right in the eyes and give a nod. "I think I will accept your offer. Thank you, General Malmo."

    This gets a smile out of the general across the table, even as he rubs his poor hand. "See, aren''t I just full of generosity?"

    I wince, remembering what he referred to. "In future, I would prefer gifts of troops and talented officers, instead of... Priests of Velvet."

    "Duly noted... Alright, I suppose I''ll see you at that castle then. Alive, no doubt. You are a Pollineux after all."

    "Duly noted..."

    I rather brusquely make my leave. He just had to ruin things at the end there with that probably unintentional barb. I am going to meet him at the castle alive because I will make the effort. Not because of some stupid name, not because of some mystical link to my damn brother... I will be alive, because my troops will keep me that way, because Pasche will keep me that way.

    Pasche gives my hand another squeeze, and for a moment I wonder if I can teach her Lazierte and I''s little language. "I umm... I actually had a question about priests and priestesses, if I may."

    This question could go to all kinds of places, and I''m not sure I liked any of them, but I had to know which way it would go. "Proceed..."

    "When we were counting up the dead and the living, I noticed there were no priests following your army around. We had to rely on Malmo''s priests to bury the dead, to... Attend to the living, and to divide up the personal effects of the fallen... I thought most modern armies would have a full complement of priests with them. Where are yours?"

    That question is not nearly as painful as the gods so often are, I like Pasche. "The same place as my cannons, in a state of ''procurement difficulties''. I was sent out here too quickly to even finish my officer''s training, they couldn''t wait to make sure I had things like a support congregation. Given that I saved you in the nick of time, it''s a fair sacrifice."

    "I suppose so... Wait, you didn''t even finish your officer training?! ... How old are you anyway, Serena?"

    "Nineteen."

    "... What the fuck?!"

    "Her Majesty requires officers, and she can order me to be any kind of officer she requires, and at any age she requires."

    "... What the fuck-"

    "Pasche, please, you''re disturbing the men."

    "... What the fuck was high command thinking?"

    "Desperate times call for desperate measures?"

    "More like desperate times call for insane politicking... No, no I get it. Someone wanted more Royalists in the lines to counterbalance the number of Republicans in the army... The Royal Family must be panicking."

    "... The Queen did seem very sad to see us sent to war so quickly. This may not have been her decision."

    "You talk about the Queen with so much reverence, does Her Grace even have any power-"

    I stop in place and glare at Pasche before I even know I''m doing it, making clear that the Queen has power, the power of her most devoted supplicant. "She is Her Majesty."

    "... Understood, completely understood." There¡¯s a certain sense of Pasche withdrawing, as if from an angry lion, but there is also something else in her eyes... Jealousy? "So, we were going to eat?"

    "¡­ Amongst the men, yes. For all the reasons I told Malmo, and also to not get caught in conversation with Malmo."

    "He does really seem eager on marrying you someday. Or marrying your brother. Or trying to marry both of you."

    "I wonder why? I''m hardly beautiful, and I''m certainly not kind to him."

    "... Well, you''re not un-beautiful...¡± Pasche spends a moment trying to stare a hole into the ground, as if she can bury the thing she just said in the dirt. ¡°But it''s probably politics again. The Pollineux name is famous, he probably wants to ride on its coattails."

    "I see...¡± My stupid name was getting me into trouble again¡­ At least it wouldn¡¯t cause issues with better people. ¡°Pasche?"

    "Yes, General?"

    "Never stop calling me ''Serena''."

 Chapter Nine

    "We''re here. Welcome to your new home, troops."

    ''Here'' is the oppidum I had spotted on the map a day prior, though the little lines on the map did not even begin to encompass the sheer imposing majesty of the manor house in the center of it, nor the extent of the shanty town outside it. It''s a start contrast, dozens upon of small hovels built around a walled estate, a wealthy palace surrounded by utter poverty. Good strong walls, that show promise as a defensive position. Given a day or two''s work digging trenches, setting up stakes and mines, and tearing down the shanties to create clearer lines of fire, our garrison should be able to defend this place from anything short of an entire division, and be able to keep the road behind us safe for reinforcement. Defenses shouldn''t be too hard to prepare given the dismal state of the place...

    Which raises its own questions. The town is completely abandoned, the buildings devoid of debtor slaves and other unfortunates. One would expect such a town to be a riot of activity, full of the work of running the mine and simply maintaining life, but it is eerily silent. No noises come from the nearby mine either, this place is simply devoid of people. Surely Cotton isn''t going to look kindly upon this abandonment of work. Usually their wrath would follow such a lack of diligence, golemized machinery often ate the lazy and the unwilling... Hopefully our determined soldiery will go some way towards appeasing them, I don''t want to be eaten by a loom.

    I approach the manor house with Malmo''s personal guard platoon at my back in case of trouble, but far enough back to maintain an air of politeness. The kinds of people who own a mining town on the Helvetian border are also the kind to get uppity about that kind of ''disrespect'', and I want my occupation of their home as painless as possible for all concerned. The gates to the manor''s walls are open and utterly unguarded. This is getting stranger and stranger... I knock.

    No answer... I knock again, louder. Not a stirring noise, not a word, not a thing. I knock loud enough to really stretch the limits of politeness... And hear not a peep. This is getting ridiculous, and I have an army. I gesture for the captain of my new guards to knock down the door, hoping that the owners will hear that.

    It takes three good kicks for the door to give in, shattering under the weight of Avernian boots. I enter the lavishly decorated foyer and am hit with an abhorrent, yet now familiar odor. The smell of the trenches outside our old fort, of the bodies piled into mass graves. I gesture for the troops to follow. The smell of rot, blood and violence permeates the building, and it is impossible to escape the fact that this is not a case of indolent rich people, it is enemy action... I turn to my soldiers, and they get their rifles to attention while trying to ignore the stench.

    Some fix their bayonets, others reach for grenades on their belts. In a small, enclosed space like this the fighting is likely to come down to these things. I draw my own sword and reach for my pistol in its holster. Loaded, ready... I lead the troops from the foyer through a door on the left, ready to clear the house room by room to prepare it for occupation.

    The door leads to a formerly resplendent dining hall where I find what I assume to be the owners of this estate. Their heads still hang upon the chandelier, their bodies remain torn and spread across the shattered dining table, as a trio of trolls fight over the meat... Going by the smell, this has been going on for days. The trolls turn their attention to us, finally catching sight of us, and as is their habit they begin to drool at the prospect of fresh blood.

    "Guards? Make ready!"

    The soldiers raise their rifles, and the trolls begin to lower their meal scraps, both sides are tense and electric.

    "Present arms!"

    The soldiers adjust their aim, the trolls make up their minds on who to eat first. There is no turning back now.

    "Fire!"

    Powder smoke fills every corner of the room, mercifully covering the smell of death and the horrors of the dining room. And as the bullets find their mark I hear the sweet sound of large bodies hitting the floor. One, two... Not three. I ready my sword; the third troll is still alive and likely about to strike. The first rule of fighting trolls is to seize the initiative, to never let them build up any speed to charge.

    They''re large, ugly things that will bowl you over and crush you given half the chance, and must be stopped before they get going. I step forward, remembering well enough where that third troll was before the room became blanketed in smoke, and I thrust my sword as deep as it would go.

    I hit flesh. I press onward. I feel it bleed against my sword and take another step forward, putting my entire body''s weight behind the motion... And then the sword stops as a foreign force acts upon it. The troll is grabbing my blade, stopping me from stabbing any deeper into it! How dare this horrible beast defy me?!

    I draw my gun with my other hand and wait for the smoke to clear enough to get a good shot at its head, getting a bead on its eye. I fire, and it recoils in pain, both hands reaching for its face for but a moment, a moment I use to press on right into the beast''s heart. It finally dies after that, bleeding a seemingly endless tide onto the floor, its disgusting blood mixing with that of the mutilated corpses it has left in its wake. The smoke dissipates, and all three trolls are dead upon the floor with their victims. With a sigh I pull my sword free of the disgusting mass of troll flesh and wipe my blade clean on a nearby curtain, one which until now survived this ordeal completely unblemished. There''s no saving these boots however; they are simply a write-off¡­

    Pasche bursts into the room, saber at the ready and body quaking in fear. "Serena! I heard gunfire and- TROLLS?!"

    She quickly throws herself between me and the trolls, preparing to shield me with her body... It takes her a few moments before she realizes that they are already dead. She makes the grave mistake of breathing a sigh of relief, gagging at the smell soon after. I lead her back to the foyer, the guards following close behind us, and I make a mental note to burn that room to cinders when the opportunity presents itself. Pasche ends up taking a position sitting on the floor, still trying to recover somewhat from her run-in with the servants of Wool. I meanwhile turn to the men, a good twenty in all, men who I had been assured would not blink if a cannon fired right in front of them... They look aimless and anxious. It appears trolls are the limit of military discipline.

    "Guards? Reload!"

    They snap to attention, loading their rifles haphazardly, hardened veterans shambling like raw recruits on their first battlefield.  It¡¯s embarrassing to witness; a mere handful of snarling beasts are enough to completely destroy their morale. And there might be more trolls in here¡­

    "Troops, we will need to clear this house room by room. It''s still strategically vital to our efforts and more than that, we have a moral imperative to rid the world of these filthy demons and avenge their victims! Stay together, be smart, fire in volleys, and use your grenades if necessary! And if it comes down to bayonets? Always take the first strike. Do not allow them to take the initiative, do not allow your fear to make you hesitate. These things die, it is their only positive attribute, and it falls to us to make it happen! Not a single beast shall escape this manor alive!"

    My impassioned speech does absolutely nothing to restore discipline or assuage the fears of the troops, so with an irritated sigh I cast my magic upon them. Their demeanor changes in an instant, proud smiles replacing worried expressions and lack of discipline¡­ Now the men are impetuous and headstrong rather than moody and afraid. They charge into the other rooms on the ground floor, and finding them clear they take the steps to the next floor two at a time, each ready to single-handedly kill a troll...

    Some of them are going to get themselves killed for me, because of me. And any trolls left in the building will be shot to pieces. The sounds of rifle fire and grenade blasts filter in from the second floor, and I want nothing more than to go up and ensure those men are safe.

    But the men have each other. Pasche only has me right now, and if any of those beasts dare try to ambush her, I will skewer their heart without hesitation, whether my own heart is beating or not. "... The men will do fine. They''ll do absolutely fine..."

    Another explosion, more gunfire, and Pasche raises an eyebrow from her spot on the floor. "Why did they not swarm us down here? I mean, we''d made so much noise..."

    "Trolls have terrible hearing, Pasche. Their ears are full of Wool, they hunt on a mixture of sight and divine instinct. I have to assume they can''t smell either, or they''d kill themselves to escape their own disgusting habits."

    "... Are you actually an expert on trolls or do you just really hate them?"

    "I know a lot about trolls BECAUSE I hate them! ... I am a devotee of all the gods, of course, but I fail to hold any affection for the servants of Wool and their cruel sense of justice."

    Pasche offers me a hand, and I accept it to help her up, and am taken by surprise when she instead pulls me down to sit with her, breaking my fall with her arm. "... Are you okay, Serena?"

    "I''m fine! I''m... A troll ate the stable boy back home, a boy by the name of Pierre. He spoke back to his father and ran away in a huff. Wool, it turns out, does not appreciate the petty defiance of teenagers, and we found his body torn to pieces in the woods, his head perfectly mounted on a nearby tree... His sister never spoke again, too scared to say anything that might displease a god somewhere... They were my friends... And then they were gone. And from that day on, I wanted to be able to kill any troll that dared come near me, that dared come near any innocent. I discovered my power soon after, and now that I''m in the army I have my chance."

    "... I wouldn''t have expected so much anger from you, Serena... You''re usually so calm-"

    "I am calm! I just... Really hate trolls... Surely you have lost someone to these horrid creatures, you must hate them nearly as much as I do!"

    "I was a shut-in, remember? Apart from Chestnut and Marie I never had anyone to lose until I came into your service."

    "Oh..."

    "Serena, please don''t get killed by a troll."

    "I don''t intend to! I intend to kill all the trolls first!"

    "... I guess I''d best get better at fighting them then if I''m to remain by your side."

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    A voice that isn''t Pasche''s filters into the room from... Somewhere. "I appreciate you starting with the ones in my home."

    I almost jump in shock, but Pasche is holding me too tightly for me to move much. Despite being all skin and bones under her armor that girl really is strong! Whatever the voice is, it doesn''t seem to be trying to harm us yet, it claims to belong to someone who lived here... But that''s impossible, they are all dead, we saw them all dead, they were eaten by trolls!

    ... "There''s no such thing as ghosts, there''s no such thing as ghosts."

    "Shame that, ghosts would be fascinating sources of information." That voice again, a woman''s voice, although slightly muffled... It almost seems to be coming from under the floorboards.

    "... I''ll... I''ll keep you safe from the gh... Ghost." Pasche speaks a big game but only holds me tighter.

    "Aren''t you two professional soldiers? And you''re both scared out of your wits by the mere voice of a young woman? The Avernian Lions are not as impressive as I was led to believe."

    Mocking us... The ghost, or the floor, or whatever is talking to us is mocking us! "... You... You come out here and say that!"

    The floor opens in front of us, splitting in half and falling away to reveal a stone staircase... And I scream. And Pasche screams. It¡¯s almost enough to drown out the sounds of combat further up the stairs.

    Rising from that staircase is a perfectly normal young woman, albeit an exhausted-looking one. "You just fought trolls, how is there still anything in La''an, anything upon the surface of Lutice that can still scare you?"

    Pasche keeps holding me, it makes for a rather undignified way for me to meet this young woman... At least it keeps my heart rate up. "I know that trolls die, I don''t know anything about ghosts!"

    "Ghosts aren''t real...¡± The girl¡¯s tone is entirely neutral, as if she¡¯s barely paying attention and her mind is elsewhere. ¡°I am Xena Helven, and this was my family''s home. Well, I suppose it''s my home now, none of my relatives wanted to flee into my lab with me. I assume they''re decorating the walls by now."

    This makes Pasche raise an eyebrow and give this new arrival her full, no longer terrified attention. "... You seem a little casual about your entire family being murdered."

    "I never really saw eye to eye with them. They called themselves good followers of Cotton, but when I invented machines to make mining easier, they just shrugged their shoulders, said the slaves were doing fine enough already without help. When I invented new processes to make extract ore to save on labor, they shrugged their shoulders and said the yields were fine as they were. They were boring sorts, not at all in line with Cotton''s agenda... Apart from all the slavery anyway."

    "... You have a problem with their lack of piety?"

    The girl, Xena, shakes her head matter-of-factly "I have a problem with hypocrisy. I''m no follower of any gods, I just abhor people who pay lip service to them while doing whatever they want. Or doing nothing for that matter. I cannot stand inertia; it is simply so boring."

    I slowly disentangle myself from Pasche, trying to get to my feet. "Let''s... Leave the family problems for now. You survived all this? The trolls, everything?"

    "I was in my lab, trolls are big stupid things, they couldn''t find the secret entrance... I was getting quite hungry, being stuck down there for half a week, but thankfully you folks have shown up and now I can walk around my own house again... Presumably. You did get all the beasts, didn''t you?"

    My guards make their way down the stairs with perfect timing... At least, most of them do, and those returning men look rather beat up and bruised... But also very satisfied, their captain giving me a proud salute. "General Pollineux, the house is now secure. We counted twenty dead trolls upstairs, now we just need to get the grunts to clean up."

    I smile up at the man... And then do something very cruel in order to spare my heart the strain of carrying their fear any longer. I take away my power, and the remaining satisfied, high-spirited men quickly become utterly terrified, fleeing the house out of fear of monsters they have long since slain.

    Which seems to get an actual reaction out of Xena, a raised eyebrow and a slightly dilated pupil. "Now that was interesting, what was that about? Their demeanor changed on a dime, as if by magic."

    I decide to demonstrate rather than explain, and at the same time test a hypothesis. I cast out my magic, catching Xena within it. I wonder what a more courageous Xena will be like, given how... Off-kilter she seems to be.

    To my immense shock, she barely changes at all. "Well, this feels warm. Could you explain?"

    I look down, disappointed that she can''t even recognize the effects of my magic. "I uhh... I''m a witch. My power seems to instill people with bravery, to make them their best selves for a moment... I don''t know why it''s not doing anything to you."

    "... Perhaps I''m simply my best self already. Still, this is fascinating. I''ve never met a witch before; I would love to study you."

    Pasche clearly takes objection to this, scrambling to her feet and moving between me and Xena. "Hey, my girl- My general is no-one''s science experiment!"

    Xena, to the surprise of us all, reaches out and runs two fingers over Pasche''s arm, provoking a quite confused blush from the poor cuirassier. "You''re also a fascinating thing." Xena spends a few moments ''examining'' Pasche, before turning her attention back to me. "So, what brings interesting people to the most boring place in Alemannia?"

    I try to regain at least some of my composure in the face of this oddball, once again cursing the fact my power doesn''t work on me. "We... We need to occupy your house, to leave a garrison to protect a supply road. We were planning on asking the owners of the mansion, but-"

    "They were eaten as part of Cotton and Wool''s eternal grudge match, their remains strewn across the walls and floor like a child¡¯s finger painting?"

    "... They unfortunately passed away, yes."

    "Well, then I guess you''re asking me then, aren''t you?"

    "I suppose I have no alternative. May we use your house for-"

    "I have conditions."

    I pinch the bridge of my nose, discovering that dealing with eccentrics is exhausting. "Proceed."

    "First, no one goes into my lab without my express permission. Or indeed, my enthusiastic request."

    "... No one goes into your lab."

    "Boring... Second condition? You allow me to accompany you, wherever you are headed."

    "... I beg your pardon? You are aware that we are an army, yes? We''re going to war."

    "Sounds more exciting than being here, and I was almost eaten by trolls this week anyway, so I can handle peril. Besides, nothing is tying me to this old place anymore, I could sign the deed over if you want to make it official. I just want to pursue my lines of inquiry, and you two have given me two new, fascinating ones."

    Pasche, still blushing a little, speaks to the floor as if Xena were still beneath it. "What... What are you?"

    Xena smiles at Pasche, a sudden and intense smile that makes me fear for my life just a little. "I''m simply a girl who doesn¡¯t want her life to be boring. And who couldn''t have that as the thirteenth daughter of a rich mining family, and certainly could not do it as the matron of a dead oppidum."

    I look at Pasche, she looks at me, both of us are desperate for some kind of reassurance on this... And yet, we need this house, and apparently this complete and total lunatic is operating at maximum courage... The only reason to say no is fear. And fear, like hesitation, would kill you.

    "... I accept your terms, Mademoiselle Helven-"

    Her smile quickly disappears; it¡¯s hard to believe it even happened at all. "Call me Xena. I insist. Third condition."

    "... Welcome to the service of Avernia, Xena... Now, we should probably get the troops to clean up this mess."

    "Oh, I have a chemical solution for that. Give me an hour, it''ll be like the place was never the sight of a massacre."

    "I... What?"

    "Don''t worry your pretty little head about it, ''General''... How should I address the two of you anyway? You rather rudely failed to introduce yourselves."

    "I do apologize for-"

    Xena leans over, and rather bafflingly flicks my forehead. "No, bad. Apologizing is boring, life is too full of wonder to spend our time on Lutice apologizing for things."

    "... The girl in the armor is Pasche." Xena''s eyebrow raises at the introduction of Pasche, and she pays extra attention to her new ¡®fascinating thing¡¯. "And I am Serena... I too would prefer you not make a big deal of my last name."

    "Pasche and General Serena."

    "Just Serena. You''re not bound by our discipline; you''re working with us but you''re not a soldier." I barely resist the urge to add ''you''re a fruitcake'', even if it might amuse our new friend as much as it would Pasche.

    "Very kind of you, Serena... Now if you''ll excuse me, I have some things to melt."

    Xena gives a little bow before heading her way back down the stairs in the middle of the floor, back to her ''lab''... Melt? Like, with fire? ... I wordlessly grab Pasche''s hand and lead her out of the house, back to the relative safety and relative sanity of the army, ready to deliver the... ''Good'' news.

    At least we¡¯ve secured our objective, and only lost four men in the process. Technically not a bad day.

 Chapter Ten

    That castle looked smaller on the map I found it on. Much, much smaller.

    In person, its walls reach higher than any building in Kerska and look almost long enough to form their own gray horizon. And upon each of the walls, upon the ramparts, upon the keep of the castle itself is that damned Magyar standard, flying the wolf''s head proudly for all to see. The irony of a castle built to stop the Magyar expansion into Western La''an being occupied by the Empire''s troops is not lost on me, I would laugh if it wasn''t my job to assault the thing.

    On the bright side, Malmo has managed to do his one job right. There is a ring around the city, preventing resupply and cutting off communications. His forces have even seized some supply convoys, they¡¯re all eating well. Still, the castle garrison aren¡¯t motivated to sally out and break the siege... They must be confident they can last until reinforcement arrives. Or maybe they just think we''ll run out of food before they do.

    Either way, this castle isn''t going to be taken by eating Magyar supplies and standing around. We are going to have to assault these walls... And we are going to have to lose people. And once again, I am going to have to convince Malmo of something. I make my way to his command tent with Pasche by my side and Xena following behind, less because I invited her to come along and more because I couldn''t stop her. She wants to see the inside of an Avernian command tent for some reason, and that¡¯s that.

    The inside of said tent contains a surprising number of chests full of looted Magyar treasure, along with a happily dining Malmo... A formerly happily dining Malmo. "Ah, General Pollineux and... Company. You have a habit of coming in right when I''m having dinner."

    Xena takes one look at Malmo and whispers gently into Pasche''s ear, just a little too loud to not be heard by all. "Boring."

    Which Malmo takes obvious exception to, even if he can¡¯t let it slip into his words. "... So, what brings you to my tent, Serena? If you want a meal, we have plenty of traditional Magyar dishes. The Pelmeni are simply to die for. Or raid a convoy for in this instance."

    I can''t help but think that in a sane world this man wouldn''t be a general, he would be a food critic. "I wanted to know what preparations had been made towards an assault on the castle."

    The man looks back down to his food, he always knew this line of inquiry was coming and he clearly doesn''t much care for it. "... Is our supply road secure? Will we be able to receive reinforcements?"

    I wince, thinking back to just how clean the manor house was after whatever Xena did to it. "Theoretically yes, we have occupied the manor house and left a garrison. It''s well fortified against assault and should be able to keep the road open. Are we expecting reinforcements?"

    "I''ve sent one of my publicists to Alesia to sing the praises of two brave generals who, when their backs were against the wall, bravely charged forward to take the fight to The Coalition. The public will eat it up, we''ll be voted more troops by the end of next month."

    "You have a publicist?!"

    Pasche raises an eyebrow, apparently having her own questions. "... You have more than one?"

    Malmo cocks his head, acting as if someone asked him if he had between one and three eyes. "You don''t?"

    This conversation could have gone on forever, mercifully however I remember the important question raised by Malmo. "... End of next month?"

    "The Convention still has to vote on things, Serena. And then needs to find a way to fund things, find new recruits, march them here¡­ Be patient-"

    "We have no idea where the rest of the Coalition forces are!"

    "As I understand it, the Coalition''s forces aren''t as... Coalesced as it might appear on the outside. They likely won''t come to the aid of the Magyars."

    "What if there are other Magyar armies?! We''re eating their supplies as we speak, they have to know that something is happening here!"

    "And how long would it take them to mobilize a force?"

    "Less than a month and a half! They don''t vote on things, they do them!"

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions."What a barbaric way of doing things... Very Woolly of them."

    "I''m not here to discuss politics, I''m here to discuss realities. And the reality is that we can''t wait for reinforcements on this one, we need to take this castle now."

    "Because of the mere possibility that there might be Magyar armies out there that we don''t know about?"

    "... Have you sent scouts? Spies? You have at least two publicists, do you have anyone gathering intelligence?"

    "... I have three publicists, and admittedly I have not. We only finished the siege camp yesterday, and today we''ve been raiding Magyar supply convoys."

    "Did you take any prisoners? Anyone we can interrogate?"

    "I don''t know anyone who can speak Magyar... And only a handful of them survived the sacrifices to Steel, and none of them entirely intact."

    I am about to slam my head on the big map on the desk, but Xena interrupts me by saying something in a language I do not understand. And then another language I do not understand. And then another language I do not understand. And then-

    General Malmo cuts her off, not nearly as excited by this development as he should be. "You speak Magyar?"

    Xena pinches the bridge of her nose, as if explaining basic mathematics to a toddler. "There is no language called ''Magyar'', the officers and nobility tend to speak Dacian, the troopers tend to speak Carpathian, and the conscripts speak a number of Slavic dialects. Their Empire is something of a mess, it must be said. Mercifully, I speak both Dacian and Carpathian, and have a grasp on most of the Slavic sublanguages."

    "Exactly! ..." I make a mental note to remember that spiel, as Xena steps over and flicks my forehead for daring to pretend I already knew that. "So, we have someone who can speak to those prisoners!"

    "Then go speak to them... They''re in the medical tent. I''d hurry if I were you, that handful got some nasty injuries during their sacrifices¡­ I¡¯m not sure they¡¯ll live long."

    "I''ll leave you to your meal, Malmo."

    "I appreciate that... Serena."

    ... There¡¯s a sincerity there that takes me off guard. I¡¯m beginning to think that if Malmo genuinely loves anything upon the surface of Lutice, it is a fine meal with no interruptions.

    Still, I take my officer and my apparent translator over to the medical tent, taking a deep breath and preparing for screams. But it is not as cacophonous as I expected, and I soon realize most of the beds are empty. There really weren''t many survivors from the sacrifices...

    They always seem like cruel things, sacrifices to Steel. When neither side is particularly skilled or otherwise advantaged, typically both sides kill each other, and no one goes free. Steel is fast becoming my least favorite God... Well, second least favorite, after Wool and his trolls.

    Still, there are prisoners who are still serviceably alive, attended to by a pair of tired-looking priestesses of Cotton, changing bandages and applying disinfectant and trying not to yawn. Thankfully we¡¯ll be giving them a break by taking these prisoners off their hands. We approach, the priestesses salute, and Xena utterly ignores them on her way to speak to the prisoners. I silently mouth a ''sorry'' to the two tired girls, Xena has a way of making ignoring someone feel sharp as a knife and twice as lethal.

    ... I feel tired, being in this room. I suppose it makes sense, there''s been a lot of marching lately and a lot of stress. Maybe it would do me some good to get some proper, actual rest. Still, this is a hospital, surely it¡¯d be against protocol for a healthy person to sleep here. I turn to ask Pasche''s opinion, but she''s already taken a bed and fallen asleep, armor and everything. She looks so peaceful like that, even before one of the priestesses grabs a blanket and throws it over the poor girl. I join her soon after for just a short nap, while Xena interrogates the Magyars in a language I will probably never understand.

    One of the priestesses looks at me quizzically, clearly confused by my actions. "... There are plenty of beds, surely you could have one all your own."

    I don''t answer, I¡¯m simply too tired. And while she isn''t Lazierte, Pasche did look and feel rather similar... I did miss this, more than I missed home, more than I missed my brother.

    Almost as much as I miss Her Majesty.

 Chapter Eleven

    I am shaken awake, and soon notice that Pasche is similarly being shaken awake. Xena is shaking us together, which feels odd somehow. Efficiency is my best guess... Pasche wakes up in a start, trying awkwardly to reach for her saber until she realizes it was Xena waking the two of us. My eyes open a lot more groggily than Pasche¡¯s. I was having a wonderful dream, but I can''t quite remember what happened in it. It might¡¯ve been about to go to Velvet places... It¡¯s probably for the best, being woken up now, even if my body disagrees.

    "You people lose so many hours sleeping, I don''t get it." Xena once again seemed determined to make me confused... We''d barely slept these past few days, what the heck was she talking about?

    "Well, I''m awake now. Please tell me you have something useful, Xena... I was having a very pleasant dream." Pasche''s shaken-awake paranoia is quickly replaced with a clear and present frustration.

    "See, that''s what''s wrong with people, you have your best ideas while you''re asleep and then you barely remember them when you wake up... Those Magyars are sleeping now. But they have an excuse, they''re dead."

    "... How and why?"

    "I traded them opium in exchange for information."

    "Where did you get opium?!"

    "I stole some opium." Xena gestures to a pilfered box of medical supplies in the corner of the medical tent.

    ¡°¡­ And what? You just killed them? All three of them?!¡±

    ¡°They were beyond help, Pasche. Treating their wounds was merely prolonging their suffering and wasting resources that could have saved other lives¡­ And it was contrary to their wishes.¡±

    ¡°How could you possibly know that?!¡±

    ¡°Experience. I used to treat the injured slaves in the mines back home. I learned quickly when something was hopeless. It was a good study in the science of medicine¡­¡±

    "... I would yell at you more but it seems Serena is still sleeping and I think the poor girl could use it..."

    Does Pasche think I¡¯m asleep? I¡¯m awake, I¡¯m just groggy and... Not moving much admittedly. I should probably let her know I''m awake before she says something she might regret.

    "Why is she sharing a bed with you, mademoiselle Pasche?"

    "I have no idea; I fell asleep first and she was simply here when I woke up... I think she might be why I was dreaming so well. Even when I was with my betrothed we only shared a bed once, and we didn¡¯t get much sleeping done."

    ... Or I can just pretend to be asleep and learn a thing or two about my subordinates. After all, it¡¯d be rude not to try and learn everything I can about the people in my service, right?

    "It appears you are in possession of knowledge which I lack, Pasche... So, you''d prefer I brief you, and then you brief her when she wakes? It seems so inefficient."

    "I think it seems irresponsible to have a sleep-deprived commander leading an assault on a fortified position."

    "... You''re smarter than I''d imagined from a brave and noble knight."

    "I never wanted to be a cuirassier y''know, I was forced to train for this. I was a bookworm, I stayed inside and read books, and tried not to grow up too much because I knew I was growing up wrong. Then all of a sudden Dad was arrested by The Convention for overtaxing his local peasants, and since I knew how to ride a horse I was given a choice. Prison and eventual sacrifice or become a cuirassier in the Avernian army."

    "And you-"

    "Weighed my options. In the end though, I didn''t want to simply leave my horse behind... She uhh, she died about a week ago though, poor Chestnut. I''d be dead too, if Serena hadn''t come to my valiant rescue."

    "And now you''ve attached yourself to her at the hip?"

    "... It''s her magic too, truth be told. She gave me a taste of her magic when we met and I felt... More myself than I had ever been, somehow. I felt like the Pasche I knew I wanted to be, not the one my flesh had forced upon me. I ummm... I must confess, it''s a feeling I''ve become quite attached to."

    "I can''t say I felt much from her magic... But it did give a nice, warm fuzzy feeling. Sort of like petting a cat."

    "... I didn''t think you''d ever have a normal hobby like petting cats, Xena."

    "I''m still more or less a human being. I just cut some of the superfluous parts out... The boring parts, like comfort and contentment with mediocrity, and the desire to enslave."

    "... Boring?"

    "Boring... What other word could exist for the sunken feeling in my chest at the thought of people in chains?"

    I stir. I can''t help it, trying to lie still and just listen is harder than I thought. Pasche almost jumps out of her armor before realizing the motion beside her is just me. She nervously chuckles, reaching out and patting my head... Her gloves definitely have chainmail in them.

    "Heh... Good morning, sleepyhead... Oh fuck, my gloves-"

    "Pasche... Such language..."

    I can''t help but smile a little at my companion''s vulgarity, it¡¯s still something rather alien to me. Hopefully I¡¯ll adjust soon, it¡¯s obvious that Pasche was not quite the ¡®gentle¡¯ woman I thought she was when we first met.

    Xena flicks my head again, practically pouting. "No, bad. Language policing is boring, Serena... I have a report for you, now that you''re awake."

    Is Xena trying to train me like a dog? "... Proceed."

    "Well, the survivors were just Slavic conscripts, but they had overheard some things. Apparently, most of the Magyar armies are in Samnia, being walked all over by some guy named Antoine." It brought a smile to my face, hearing my brother referred to as such, which Xena seemed a little confused by. "Regardless, they don''t have too many other armies in Alemannia... The unfortunate thing is that the supply situation is being handled by the Icenian army, not the Magyars. They''re protecting the wagons, but the Icenians are supplying them, so their commissariat are likely to notice one of their wagon trains going missing and are likely to retaliate. And they aren''t far, maybe four days march away at most."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    "... So, we have four days to take this castle?!" That¡¯s certainly a wake-up call, I try to jump right out of the bed, but find the armored Pasche both too heavy and too entwined with me. "We have to tell Malmo; we have to get the guns in order!"

    "It''ll be a little bit before they learn about their supply train going missing, so we probably have a little more time... But that''s not the worst of it. The Icenian Army is apparently led by an experienced general, a witch named Anastasia Delphine. Those men seemed scared enough of the name that we should probably give it some caution ourselves."

    "The Icenians are mustering witches to war as well?"

    "No... She apparently volunteered... And then bribed, blackmailed, and threatened her way up the ranks of the army when the Icenians tried to deny a woman a generalship, according to legend anyway."

    "... You met some very informed conscripts, huh."

    "You''d be surprised just how much hearsay and conjecture you can get out of a man trying to get his hands on a lethal dose of opium."

    "I sincerely hope I spend my entire life continuing to be surprised by that."

    Xena flicks my head again, pouting once more. "No, bad. Motivated ignorance is boring."

    Pasche slowly rises to her feet, giving Xena a slightly combative look. "Are you going to keep bringing harm to my general? Because I really cannot abide it, seeing as I am her most loyal of officers."

    "Consider it a sign of my faith in her, she''s entirely salvageable. If anything, you should both be thanking me."

    I can¡¯t help but giggle, is being domesticated supposed to be this amusing? "It''s fine, Pasche. It barely hurts, and not for long."

    I get to my feet; we have an assault to plan today. We had an assault to plan yesterday in honesty, and Malmo must surely have finished his meal by now. With my two... With Pasche and Xena following behind I make my way back to the command tent and find Malmo eating dessert... Why is this man a general?

    "Ah... You all again... Learn anything interesting?" Seeing us enter, Malmo reluctantly puts down his knife and fork, sparing the cream-filled pastry on his plate for a little longer. "Anything we need to be worried about?"

    "Yes. The Icenian Army, whose supply wagon you apparently stole from earlier. Seems they''ve been supplying the Magyars, and we''ve probably incurred their wrath. They''ll be here within a week to sweep us aside, and they just so happen to be led by a famous witch. We have a castle to take. Now."

    "... Now."

    "Right now."

    Malmo looks forlornly at his poor pastry, before gently setting the plate onto one of the large chests of treasure and taking out a rough map of the castle and siege camp, as drawn by some junior officer with some rather impressive art skills. He lays it across the big table, taking out a pen and a large stick, presumably to emphasize things.

    "Well then, what''s the plan? Our forces are spread out around the castle, we''ve yet to add the troops you''ve brought to the map, but I assume they''re concentrated somewhere?"

    I wince, ''my troops'' are about two thousand strong after saving Malmo and setting aside a garrison for the manor. Mostly infantry, supplemented by a handful of pilfered Thuringian cannons. We¡¯d left the cavalry behind at the Helven Estate to respond to threats on the road quickly. I feel naked, having less than half the force I was sent with under my command at this stage... But they were spent flesh and spent getting us this far at least... I can''t be happy about it, no matter how much I force myself to try. Malmo at least seems to have more troops than me, enough to surround the castle... How do you seize a castle in maneuver warfare? What would Antoine do?

    "My forces are concentrated facing the front gate, that''s likely where the enemy''s forces are thickest. If I lead an assault there, it will draw reinforcements to it, which will make the other walls more vulnerable. Attack all of them at once while I have them distracted, they''ll crack somewhere. Potentially everywhere. Concentrate forces on the back wall specifically, they won''t be able to draw troops from the sides to support it and we''ll be able to have fire superiority there. Once we''ve taken one of the walls from there it''s just a race to see who can take more prisoners... And try to keep the building''s structure intact, if at all possible. We still need to hold this castle after we take it."

    "... That certainly sounds like a plan. Yes... Your men valiantly tying the enemy down as mine storm the walls? It''s quite a brilliant plan." There''s a gleam in his eyes, he can see good publicity in this, as well as an easier time for his forces.

    But he can see whatever he wants, I see a plan that might work, so long as we can coordinate. "We''ll need to time these things perfectly. Have your men ready to strike after the second barrage of our artillery, that''s a cue they''ll be able to hear... Here''s hoping their full bellies don''t get in the way of combat."

    "Hey, don''t blame the men, blame the Icenians for giving us such a generous smattering of supplies."

    "Yeah, about that... What is with those chests full of gold and the like in your tent? Were those in the Icenian supply wagon too?"

    "Quite inexplicably, yes. There sure is a lot, isn''t there?"

    "Certainly more than enough to pay conscript wages, why carry so much money?"

    "Who knows? Either way, it will be an appropriate prize to send back to Avernia and The Convention. They''ll know what best to do with it."

    "Not the soldiers who seized it?"

    "They get their wages. If The Convention wishes it so, they might offer a bounty for captured treasure, but that''s their decision to make, not ours."

    "... Fair enough." As tempted as I am to disagree; I know somewhere in the back of my head that Wool is probably loathing this lack of adherence to tradition. "I''ll leave that in your hands then, unless we find ourselves in need of a few chests full of gold."

    Pasche softly chuckles under her breath. "Perhaps to stuff in our cannons instead of canister shot. Would be a fun surprise to mince some Icenians with their own coins."

    It¡¯s a rather morbid joke, and one that manages to get a subtle little giggle out of Xena. Even Malmo gave a smile, even if he quickly looked away to hide it... I try to put on a laugh, filled with the strangest suspicion that I might genuinely make Pasche cry if I don''t seem amused, before taking my... Taking Xena and Pasche with me to address the men. We''re about to give them some very bad news.

 Chapter Twelve

    Bringing up the guns is something of a pain. Most of our horses were left with the cavalry for obvious reasons so there aren''t many to spare for hauling things. We did keep the one, my personal horse, which Pasche has quickly formed a friendship with by dragging cannons and ammunition side by side. She should probably be with the cavalry as well, seeing as she is my newest cavalry officer, but when I suggested she perhaps be trusted with them she simply shut down for a moment, before staying by my side as if I''d said nothing. That I can''t bring myself to punish this blatant insubordination might be a sign that I should have paid more attention to the marshal and his myopic speeches... But that I get to see Pasche smiling, working side by side with a friendly destrier might be a sign that I made the right choice, not growing up to see the world in a Steely way.

    Despite some difficulties we move the guns into position, much to the surprise and concern of my resting infantry. I can tell they know they''re about to be ordered to do something difficult again. That more of them were going to die today.

    This was going to be hell on my heart.

    I stand before my troops, most of them sitting around campfires and resting their legs after the march here. Showing my face again changes the atmosphere dramatically, making it far, far more tense. I wonder if they hate me. Well, they have to be alive to hate me, so it¡¯s hardly the worst reaction to inspire in them, even if it isn''t great.

    "Soldiers, attention!"

    They hastily, albeit rather sloppily assemble before me, taking some time to get into their proper lines, to form according to their new regiments, and for their officers to ensure their men are paying attention to me... To think, this is ¡®only¡¯ two thousand men... To think, I ¡®only¡¯ had five thousand before. Even this many feels like a sea of human beings, my mind can¡¯t escape the fact that they could easily trample someone to death.

    But can they trample a castle? "Soldiers! We have received news about the location and disposition of enemy forces in the area. We are, at this present moment, under threat of being attacked by an Icenian relief army within the week."

    The officers relay the news to soldiers who aren¡¯t close enough to hear me shouting, the information slowly flows through the lines and with it brings an obvious sense of dread.

    "We must be prepared for their arrival. If they catch us in the open we will be stuck between the Icenian army and the Magyar garrison, and we will be destroyed. There is no other option, we must crush the Magyars here. We must take this castle and fortify it, and prepare for what may come. Tonight we storm the walls, and your job will be the most important one. We will be taking the front gate, drawing the enemy''s attention away from General Malmo''s attack on the other walls. When they find an opening to exploit the castle will fall right into our hands, and we''ll be able to get to the business of fortifying the place... We attack in an hour, I recommend you see to your equipment."

    The troops are expectedly distraught by this plan. I swear I see some of them talking amongst themselves, one even looks ready to punch a nearby ensign. I quickly throw out my magic to catch this man, who restrains himself and finds his confidence for a second, before I withdraw it again. I need every man; I won''t have them being court-martialed and sacrificed for fighting their officers when they should be storming the walls¡­

    My eyes turn to Xena, part of me expecting to be flicked in the face for giving such a boring speech... But no flick comes. She dispassionately pats my head in equally baffling fashion. "Good. Tell the troops what to expect without puffery or aggrandizement. You''re being honest."

    My eyes drift to the side, this is terrible advice and yet I can understand the virtue behind it. "If I couldn''t literally force them to be brave and impetuous with magic then we''d all be about to die."

    "There are more boring things than being dead."

    "I''d prefer to offer you at least a little more excitement than being a corpse though."

    Another pat on my head, which makes me wonder if Xena has ever tried to tame a human being before. "Good. You''re being ambitious, I like that- And what do you think you idiots are doing?"

    Xena''s eyes fall on the gunnery crews preparing the cannons, sighting the guns, preparing powder loads. She suddenly holds a quiet fury, and stomps over to lecture the gun crews about proper sighting, citing a bunch of mathematical nonsense that makes me realize that Xena speaks many, MANY languages that I do not understand. The gunnery crews, far from being offended by this intrusion, eagerly accept the instruction and follow Xena''s advice to the letter...

    Xena just so happens to be a genius artillerist, I wonder if I should consider making her employment in my army more official and give her an officer¡¯s commission... Does the Avernian army have a uniform that would fit her is the real question, given her... Proportions. I doubt they make uniforms in her size¡­

    "... Still smaller than the Queen."

    And yet they¡¯re still quite similar, similar enough to draw some comparisons certainly. Similar¡­ I bite my tongue, bidding Velvet to leave my head alone for even five minutes. I have a war to fight and a castle to take, I do not have time to consider Her Majesty''s divine figure, or for my head to start looking at Xena in that fashion... It¡¯s going to be a long hour''s wait for the men to be prepared. I miss Lazierte. She''d understand what I¡¯m going through, she''d make the time fly by. I hope she¡¯s doing well in Samnia, but it¡¯s probably foolish to hope my brother hasn''t been too insufferable. I don''t hate him, I love him dearly, but he is a little bit of a braggart and something of an aspiring thespian, It¡¯s hard to imagine Lazierte enjoying his company much... Does she still miss me? Has she perhaps befriended her own Pasche... Is she sharing beds with other girls... Well, it''s not as if I haven''t, and it isn¡¯t about what she does while we¡¯re apart, it¡¯s about the fact we''re going to be together again. I know we will... I just have to take a castle, and then the future where that happens can come a little bit closer.

    "Uhh, Serena?" Pasche shakes me rather violently, it¡¯s quite a shock which leaves me wondering what in the heck she¡¯s doing. "It''s time?"

    I look up and find the sun has descended just that little bit more, my musings about the women in my life have somehow taken an entire hour. "... Thank you, Pasche. I''ll get ready to magic up the men."

    "They''ve assembled in rank behind the guns, waiting for your order... Serena, are you sure you''re up for this? Wherever you just were, it took a lot of shaking to get you back to Lutice."

    I didn¡¯t even notice it... Velvet has paralyzed me with longing for at least two different girls. "I can do this. Only I can do this. It''ll sting, it''ll be bloody, flesh will be spent but-"

    Pasche takes my hand in hers for a moment, running a thumb of her mailed glove over the back of my hand. ''Everything''s going to be alright''... I manage to offer her a smile before slipping free of her hand, and the two of us make our way to the men.

    Xena appears to be sighting the guns with a telescope, the artillery crew having decided to let her have free rein over their kit. Knowing even what little I know about Xena, I trust she''ll make better use of it than the crew would. The Magyars on the walls have noticed our preparations and are preparing their own guns, their own soldiers. I just have to hope we can blow them off the walls before the troops rappel up them.

    This is probably as good a time as any to tell the troops their movements. "Alright, the first wave will be the 54th and 68th regiments, when the first cannon volley fires these two units will storm the left and right sides of the gatehouse respectively. When the second cannon volley fires, that will be the cue for Malmo''s troops to begin their assault on the sides and rear of the castle. The 54th and 68th will be followed by the 79th and 81st to help secure the gatehouse after the first two regiments take it." Notably, the soldiers of the 54th and 68th do not look confident that they will secure the gatehouse... Not confident yet at any rate, once my magic hits them their confidence will be non-negotiable. "I imagine there will be important medals and promotions in the futures of many among you men when you achieve this victory, Malmo has assured me that you will all be darlings of the press for the victory we are going to win today."

    These men clearly have their priorities in order, their fear of being shot outweighing the secure feeling of not being hated by the public... They''re so young, it¡¯s obvious now that I¡¯m looking at them.

    Young and inexperienced, barely more than a militia, armed with old muskets and sent to die by a nineteen-year-old with half an officer''s education... Maybe they are right to be so unruly and undisciplined. Or at least, they aren''t nearly as wrong as such a state would imply.

    They''ll grow up... The ones that live through this will grow up. "Cannons?"

    Xena gives a thumbs up, not taking her eyes off the telescope to look at me.

    "Fire!"

    The first volley of cannon fire rings out, knocking Magyars off the top of the walls and sending them flying. Xena''s math powers can kill with ease, I hope I never make her upset with me... I cast my magic over the men of the 54th and 68th, and they eagerly rush forward to perform their duty, charging at the walls with gusto, albeit without being able to keep their rows and ranks. When even the officers are overcome with bravery there is no one to keep the regiment in check...

    Perhaps I need to learn some precision with my magic. The gunnery crews begin to reload, taking their sweet time making sure to get the powder load exactly to Xena''s specifications... And while the cannons reload I can see Magyars falling from the walls, raining down on top of our advancing soldiers... Gunfire erupts from the fortifications in front of us, but not gunfire directed at our troops.

    Xena shakes my shoulder, offering me the telescope. "... Serena, I think you need to see this."

    Observing closer with the telescope I see soldiers wearing not the white uniform of the Magyar Empire, but the forest green of the Alemannian Principality... And one of them is holding a standard, a poorly stitched together rendition of an Avernian Lion, which they wave in the air as his comrades butcher Magyars around him... Betrayal amongst the enemy ranks? Alemannia is technically also in a state of war with Avernia, why would their soldiers be doing this?

    And oddest of all is the bear amongst them, somehow holding a halberd and... Wait, that''s a woman! A seven-foot-tall woman wearing a bearskin and little else, her mouth wet and stained red... And in her other hand, she had a burlap sack, whose contents she emptied over the side of the castle wall. Heads. Over a dozen severed heads.

    "... I didn''t expect a bear woman."

    "Bear woman? ... Let me see that." Xena takes the telescope back, curious about what I meant by ¡®bear woman.¡¯ "... Fascinating..."

    Xena doesn''t speak with the enthusiasm I¡¯d typically expect from someone who has just seen a woman wearing most of a bear and carrying a halberd. But I suppose that by her standards, she sounds quite excited, looking eager at the prospect of studying a woman wearing a bear.

    Maybe Xena knows something I don¡¯t, it¡¯s the only explanation I can think of for her being so excited by the bear-wearing murder freak. "... What do you think she''s doing-"

    "Serena, go and tell your men that they are not to touch the seven-foot-tall bear woman."

    "I... What-"

    "Tell them she''s to remain unharmed. She will be a fascinating research topic" She speaks with a measured tone, but it¡¯s apparent there is the Xena equivalent of an urgent scream behind it.

    ¡°¡­ Now please.¡±

    "Okay okay! ... Delay the second cannon volley, I''ll give you the signal when to signal Malmo''s troops."

    "... How? You''ll be all the way over there- Oh..." The warmth of my magic immediately makes her realize what the signal will be... And seems to embolden her voyeurism of the clearly mentally disturbed woman on the wall. "Fascinating indeed..."

    This is going to end very poorly for all involved... But I did make a promise, and now I am once again chasing after my troops as my heart slowly dies in my chest... Or at least I was, but mercifully Pasche appears by my side, riding my horse.

    "I expected you to be at the front with your men. Are you sure you¡¯re okay-"

    "Pasche, there''s a bear woman on the walls and I need to warn the troops that she might be a friend."

    "... What the fuck-"

    "Now, Pasche!"

    Pasche takes my hand and pulls me onto the horse, the pair of us sharing a saddle. My horse, whose name escapes me at the moment, gallops faster than I ever thought it capable of, almost bowling over a few men in my attempt to get close enough to issue orders.

    "Soldiers, do not fire upon the Alemannians unless fired upon. The Greenjackets appear to be allies."

    The shout takes a lot out of me, and I clutch my chest as the pain begins to come in earnest. A lot of the men have already begun climbing the walls, I hope they can hear me.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Pasche, whose heart is currently not being shared with almost a thousand other people, shouts an addendum that I really should have thought of at the time. "And their pet bear woman, don''t shoot her either!"

    I see the men on the walls hesitate for a moment despite my power, bear women are apparently the extent of magical bravery. Still, they continue to climb, soon they''ll seize the gatehouse proper... Not that they even need to, the gates soon open without our efforts, the bear woman and several of her green-clad comrades having opened it the old-fashioned way. Getting a closer look, the bayonets of these men seemed different than normal, seemingly designed for slashing rather than stabbing. They put me in mind of giant scalpels, and I wonder if they¡¯re as sharp.

    The Bear Woman shouts something in German that I cannot for the life of me even begin to understand, before finishing her speech with some words that at least make it to my brain. "Avernia! Leather!"

    ... An adherent of Leather... The men who haven''t scaled the walls take to swarming the front gate, and mercifully they follow my order to leave the bear woman and her comrades alone. Pasche rides us a little closer to the bear woman in question. She has the smell of blood about her... Her black hair is wild and utterly untamed, and her eyes are a striking shade of gray...

    And her mouth is wet, still stained red, with a wide, genuine smile on her face revealing her rather sharp teeth... I know there are rumors, ghost stories really, of some adherents of Leather that still practiced human consumption. But I always thought they were a myth, a thing invented by children to scare other children! And yet a real-life example is staring us in the face, and that example is bounding over to me and Pasche with both incredible power and overwhelming excitement. More like a large, friendly dog rather than a walking horror novel.

    "Katarina." She beams at me and bows courteously, and I¡¯m not quite sure how to take that.

    "S... Serena." Being so frighteningly close to her certainly causes a rise in my heart rate... "My name is Serena."

    "Pasche..." Pasche seems rather guarded, which I admittedly would be as well if I wasn''t just far too overwhelmed by this.

    Katarina speaks to us in German, rather excitedly, and with a clear belief that we understand even a word of it. I nod along, realizing that we¡¯re going to need Xena on this to get any context for the bloodbath that had opened the gates for us... Oh heck, Xena! I haven''t given her the signal to fire again yet! I cast out my magic, reaching her back over at the cannons, and soon the second volley rings out, firing far above the castle walls so as to not hit any of our troops. It seems to have the desired effect as cannon volleys ring out from the other walls of the castle. Malmo''s assault begins... I pray that his troops will also catch on that the Alemannians are on our side.

    Xena makes her way to the space under the gatehouse, actually running for what might genuinely be the first time in her life. Seems she¡¯s remarkably eager to meet the bear woman- Katarina. And thank the gods for that, now we might finally have some idea of what we''re dealing with. Katarina for her part bounded over to Xena in turn, apparently eager to make a new friend. If she had a tail it would be wagging, it¡¯s dissonantly adorable behavior from the cannibal priestess. At least we''ll know what her deal is soon.

    ... Or maybe Xena will talk to her in German and not give a thought to translation. Katarina herself is clearly pleased that someone is speaking to her in her native tongue, and the two quickly talk up a storm... Katarina even manages to draw a genuine-looking smile out of Xena... This feels wrong somehow, it¡¯s almost profane to watch, but it¡¯s difficult to look away.

    Difficult for me to look away in any instance, Pasche is entirely capable of getting our shared horse moving. "That''s quite enough of that now, we have a castle to take."

    "Right..." I feel myself start to fade, and I reckon the troops are probably in a good position to continue the fighting without my power, so I withdraw it. "So, what''s the plan? There are two of us and we are on a horse."

    "I thought plans were supposed to be your thing, General." Pasche''s chuckle is well-meaning, the girl is being nice, but she does also have a point.

    "True... Their command staff. If we capture their command staff then we''ll be able to get them to surrender. Save some lives, spare us some flesh."

    "See, that''s why you come up with the plans! ... Where are the command staff?"

    I gesture to the castle''s keep, the tallest part of this behemoth structure. "Presumably up high, watching the battle."

    "Yeah, that sounds like something they''d do. Now we just have to call for your guards, I''m sure they''ll-"

    "They declined to remain in my service after the whole troll incident, apparently they didn¡¯t consider that to be covered in their contract... Maybe we could ask those Alemannians at the gate for help."

    "We can''t even ask them for the time of day, they don''t speak our language. Unless we have Xena join us, which I think might be a terrible idea."

    "True..." I think it over for a moment, before dismounting the horse and drawing my pistol. "... Maybe we''ll get lucky and their guards will have been sent to the walls to try and plug the gaps."

    "... Serena, what are you-" Pasche practically jumps off the horse in her attempt to reach me in time and stop me from doing something stupid.

    Regrettably, my stupidity is very, very fast, and I push open a surprisingly unbarred door into a surprisingly unguarded foyer... Which has surprisingly been repurposed as a slaughterhouse. Human limbs are stacked into piles in some unspoken order, torsos hang from meat hooks, and the walls, floor, and ceiling are caked in blood. Muskets form a haphazard stack in a corner, and there are severed heads kept on their own little shelf, each of them carrying an expression of pure terror.

    I fall to my knees and clutch my mouth and stomach, unsure what else a person can do upon seeing this. Pasche gags at the sight and the smell, this is different from how trolls operate. There is an order to this, there is a system. Almost like a regular commissary, except for human meat... And the Magyar command staff are probably somewhere beyond this human abattoir, or they are among its piles.

    "Are... Are the Alemannians gone?" A soft voice makes its way from under a nearby table... A survivor?

    "You speak Avernian?" I get to my feet quickly upon being addressed, and ask an admittedly silly question for the current circumstances.

    "If you''re going to invade a place, I reckon it helps to know the language. I made sure to take classes... I never learned German though, I somehow didn''t expect to be at war with our Alemannian allies!"

    "Well, those allies are not here right now. If you¡¯re going to make a break for it then now''s the time. Just don''t take the front gate." Pasche speaks quickly, her revulsion making it difficult to form longer sentences without gagging halfway through them.

    "Oh, thank the gods! When the General said he was going to hire local mercenaries, I was skeptical. I guess I''ve been proven right." The source of the voice slips out from under the table, revealing itself to be a nervous-looking man in a captain''s uniform, albeit with the Magyar white now drenched red in fresh blood. "Normal folks don''t do this, it takes a German to be this crazy."

    "What happened here?" I don''t want to know, but I can¡¯t stop myself from asking regardless.

    "Well, the boss was told by the Icenians that we''d be getting a rather lavish budget for hiring mercenaries, and for some idiot reason he decided to hire from the Von Moniks family. They came cheap, well recommended, and I think he might have had an eye for the lass leading them. She seemed a cheerful sort at first, all her troops did, and while they were a bit weird it''s not like being a weirdo means you can''t take a bullet."

    "A mercenary then... And she turned on you?"

    "The gold the Icenians promised us never arrived, so we had nothing to pay her with. She shrugged it off at first, we thought the Germans would simply stay put and wait for the money to come in... Then she took her chance at switching sides the moment you lot attacked."

    "And she started with the command staff, with the general."

    "... She tore out half the General''s neck with her teeth, chewed, and then swallowed. I didn''t even think a human could do that! Her troops quickly took out the rest, cutting them to pieces with those bayonets of theirs, and then they rushed to the walls to cause as much havoc as possible... Oh dear gods, the castle is falling, isn''t it?"

    "I guess next time you should pay your mercenaries-" Pasche is clearly trying to put on some sardonics to try and regain her composure, but her attempt is cut short by a sudden revelation. "... Those chests of gold in Malmo''s office."

    "... You folks did this?" The captain looks rather distraught at having made the connection... And then rather furious. Murderously so even, he draws his pistol and aims right at me. I try to draw a bead on him in turn, but he¡¯s quicker on the draw. There¡¯s a gunshot, and I begin to fall... Completely unscathed. I look up and saw Pasche, standing where I had stood, clutching her chest through her cuirass with one hand and slashing the captain from hip to neck with her saber in the other... Pasche must have pushed me out of the way. She took a bullet for me! ... And she isn''t even under my spell.

    She soon falls to the ground, finding her way to a sitting position as she tries to focus on her breathing. I quickly scramble beside her, not quite certain how to help but determined to try everything. Anything... I will not allow Pasche to become part of the inventory here.

    She moves her hand, letting me examine her wound... She¡¯s bleeding, but not especially heavily. She laughs as best she can, and gently knocks her cuirass with a hand. "Armor. It''s a comfort to have."

    "Not getting shot is a comfort to have, what the hell were you thinking, Pasche?!" I¡¯m furious... I¡¯m holding her.

    "I was thinking that you saved my life and it was appropriate I did the same, even if it killed me... I was thinking I wanted to keep you safe, no matter what." Her laugh settles into a smile, albeit one twinged with flashes of pain.

    I can''t stand it. "Why are you smiling? You big idiot, you were just shot, why are you smiling?!"

    "Because I did what I wanted. I kept you safe... I was a good knight, wasn¡¯t I?"

    This girl is infuriating! How dare she get shot for me, how dare she protect me, how dare she always be at my side and caring for me? How dare she say something cool and sweet while in my arms, she''s just the worst!

    Why am I kissing her?

    Whatever reason I have, she certainly must have her own because she eagerly accepts it, and for a moment she seems to let her facade fall and allow being shot to be a painful thing for which she wanted comfort.

    Only for a second though, before she slips herself away from my lips, trying to give a brave smile. "We... We shouldn''t."

    "We shouldn''t."

    What did I do? Surely this is blasphemy against Her Majesty! My kisses, my¡­ Other things, surely they belong to her! ¡­ So why are my cheeks so red? Why does this feel so right?

    Pasche''s cheeks are briefly as red as mine until they begin to turn back to sheet white as she bleeds in my arms, which is enough to bring me back to the situation at hand. She doesn''t seem to have a mortal injury, but she''ll be recovering for days. I need to get her to a Cotton Priestess, I need to-

    "Serena... Can I have some of your magic? Please?"

    An odd request, she isn''t going to be facing any more enemies today, I won''t let her. "I... I don''t think you need to be filled with fighting spirit right now, Pasche."

    "It''s not... It''s not fighting spirit for me. I have enough of that to spare for you already. I just¡­ I want to feel your heartbeat for a little while. Please."

    ... There is a cruelty in how sweet that is. I cast out my magic and catch her within it, and soon my heart is beating for her as well as me... We might''ve spent hours in this room together, our hearts simply beating together, the world melting away around us. Or it may have been less than five minutes, time is screwy. Either way, we¡¯re soon interrupted by some triumphant-sounding Alemannian soldiers, along with Xena and Katarina who... Are they holding hands?

    The Alemannians slip past us into this meat commissary, quickly noticing the captain who attempted to kill me, and carving him to pieces with their bayonets before adding his bits to the various piles. Maybe he was right to try and shoot me, seeing as these people were now my allies.

    Katarina gives Xena an apologetic look, mumbling something in very poor, accented Avernian. "Sorry. Mess."

    Xena simply shrugs, an odd thing to do while she¡¯s holding the bear woman''s hand. "I have a chemical solution for that."

    Both Pasche and I look at Xena simultaneously, and as our hearts beat as one, so do we speak as one. With one unified voice, we both shout. "Xena, no!"

 Chapter Thirteen

    It has been over a week since we took the castle, and there¡¯s not a single Icenian in sight. Not a company, not a platoon, not a scout here or there, not even any farmers or peasants that could be spies. We''ve been left completely on our own here, which has me starting to think I may have overreacted. It''s not as if the Magyars were able to get any message out to the Icenians or anything, very few of them survived the storming of the castle and fewer still survived the sacrifices to Steel afterwards. I must confess, I almost feel cheated by the lack of anything trying to kill me this past week.

    For one thing, the lack of threat has caused the men to become indolent. After some desperate defensive preparations in the days following our capture of the place, a lack of anything trying to take our new headquarters has made the troops rather lax, unconcerned with the possibility of imminent danger. It''s been harder and harder to get them to drill, as if  I had violated their trust by not having them shot to pieces by Icenians... Maybe this is ¡®Anastasia''s¡¯ master plan working as intended.

    That or the lack of trust might have something to do with our newest acquisition to the army, Katarina¡¯s battalion of the ''Moniks Family Band''. Priests and priestesses of Leather to the last, and more importantly they¡¯re cannibals. Rather holistic cannibals too, they make sure to use the ''hide'' to make leather items for practical uses, much to the troops'' horror and the priests'' and priestesses'' pride. Horrifyingly, they produce items of quite high quality from their pious leatherworking, they¡¯ve even made a fair few pairs of boots to help replace the rather dismal footwear my soldiers had been issued, and to my shame some of the men even took them up on the offer. According to the ones who¡¯ve tried them they''re quite comfortable, not that I¡¯d asked and not that I¡¯d ever consider following their example. I don¡¯t care how much troll blood these boots waded through, I am not going to replace them with the offerings of Leather¡¯s priests¡­

    In contrast to their pride in their industrious materiel production, I am left with the impression they don¡¯t enjoy the cannibalism that much, their younger priests quite eager to occasionally sneak a little bit of human food from our stores to spice up the... ''Human food'' that they are apparently divinely obligated to eat. They at least spared the bodies of all those sacrificed to Steel, burying them with dignity, with fruit seeds as a sign of honor. It''d take a while but we¡¯d someday have an apple orchard here if we stayed here.

    Their lack of enthusiasm for their religious obligations was however made up for by the sheer enthusiasm their leader has for... Well, everything! Katarina von Moniks, apparently the fourth child of an Alemannian noble house, never stops smiling! She smiles when receiving her meals, smiles when drilling her troops, smiles when greeting me in a language I don''t understand. ... And she smiles whenever she''s with Xena, which is just about always. Not that I can blame her, Xena actually speaks Katarina''s language after all. Which I am quite thankful for, she makes for a good liaison between us and our new German friends.

    She smiled especially hard when she was paid, of course. It took some... Convincing to get Malmo to pay her what she was owed, but when I eventually gave up logic and showed him the meat commissary his objections suddenly evaporated into nothing, and the girl was paid in full. It¡¯s a relief to know she won''t be biting my neck, or at least to be as sure as I possibly can that she won''t.

    Having downtime like this has one unexpected side benefit, it allows me to take care of Pasche as she recovers from her heroics. The priestesses of Cotton originally tried to confine her to her sickbed, but after the fourth time she snuck out they finally just gave her free range of the castle on the condition she return to have her wounds redressed each day. She¡¯s using her allotted freedom of movement to spend more or less all of her time with me, which I can''t say is unwelcome, even if things have been a little awkward since that kiss. She''s even taken to sharing my bed, although not in the same fashion as Lazierte had...

    I have become shameless; I¡¯ve made new friends when I already have a best friend who is somewhere in Samnia all alone! Or possibly not! ... I should take the time to write to her.

    "To Lazierte." ... Too formal, too cold.

    "To my most dear and darling Lazierte." She''d mock me for days, and it implies I have more than one Lazierte, which I absolutely do not.

    "... I miss you, Lazierte." Now that¡¯s just too honest to be an option. ... Letter writing is hard.

    "So, who is Lazierte anyway?" My thinking out loud has roused Pasche, who had been sleeping with her head on my lap on a ''liberated'' couch in my personal quarters. "A friend from the Academy?"

    "My best friend, yes." I smile at the memory, wondering if Lazierte and Pasche would get along. "We ended up on two different fronts when the High King sent us to war. I promised I''d write."

    "I imagine she''ll be happy to hear anything from you then, you needn''t worry so much about the words... Unless you''re worried she''ll be too happy to hear what you have to say."

    "Too happy? I can''t imagine there is an amount of Lazierte happiness that would displease me."

    "Oh oh? ... What kind of relationship did you and her have anyway?"

    "Well..." I try to think of how to describe our friendship that did not in any way involve our special kind of bed-sharing, something I have come to suspect might be a unique feature of our friendship and not typical of two bent girls in bed together. "We were... We were rather inseparable. We''d sacrifice to Steel together, study together..."

    I feel someone tap my shoulder from the side, and as I turn in surprise I am flicked on the forehead by a familiar face. "No, bad. Hiding things is boring."

    "X... Xena?!" I can''t jump as I am presently being a pillow for Pasche, but I feel my teeth trying to escape my mouth in shock. "How did you get in here?!"

    "The door? I knew Pasche would be here, so I came here."

    "You... You need Pasche for something- Oww!"

    "No, bad. Changing the subject is boring."

    "How did you know I was hiding something anyway?"

    "Because I''m looking at you."

    Pasche raises her head slightly from its spot on my lap, nervously smiling up at me. "It was intensely obvious, Serena. I don''t think you could tell a lie to save your life."

    "I wasn''t lying-"

    "Lying by omission counts, General."

    I sigh, desperately hoping that Pasche would continue to be as open-minded as she has typically been, knowing that Xena will hardly be an issue. "She and I would hold hands and touch ourselves looking at a portrait of Her Majesty, are you two happy now?"

    Xena pats my head, which adds to this utter mortification. "Good. Telling the truth is good."

    "Even if a lie would save my life?"

    "Who would want a life that could be destroyed by the truth?"

    Xena, in the scant few moments when she isn¡¯t being incredibly odd, has a bizarre way of sounding profound when she wants to. I hate it, it makes the little affectionate gestures all the more impactful seeing as they come from a philosopher rather than a weirdo.

    Pasche, meanwhile, lets her head fall back into my lap, cheeks pink and face clearly hot. "... I see! So, you''re-"

    "Friends. Best friends. Just, best friends who promised we were both going to marry The Queen one day. We practiced flirting for it. I''m terrible."

    "Practiced?"

    "Practiced!"

    If Pasche continues on this path, she is going to lose her lap privileges! Stupid second-best friend, trying to make out like Lazierte and I''s bed-sharing and practice flirting were anything but innocent!

    "You ever practice kissing with her too?" Pasche is making some slightly infuriating faux-kissing noises, she¡¯s really looking to push my buttons today.

    "No, the first time I kissed someone was you, over a week ago."

    That makes her shut up... Which in turn makes me shut up, even as I¡¯m certain I¡¯ve discovered a way in which our kiss was completely normal. After all, surely it must be normal to kiss a friend who saved your life, it has to be because I did it without thought, and my body simply wouldn''t blaspheme against Her Majesty of its own accord! However, despite how obviously normal this entire kissing Pasche thing was, it still managed to be somewhat awkward between the two of us. Not least of which because we are still painfully aware that Xena was still in the room, watching our little drama unfold. She¡¯s clearly amused, even if her face won¡¯t admit it.

    Pasche clears her throat, suddenly turning her attention Xena-wards. "So, you uhh... You needed me for something?"

    Xena nods, and now she is all business again. "I believe you have a problem. If you would come with me we can-"

    "I... Are you trying to start a fight, Xena?"

    "No. I would lose."

    "Then why are you saying we have a problem?"

    "If you would follow me away from Serena then we might discuss the problem I believe you may have without it being overheard by certain people you may prefer not to know about it."

    "Serena just admitted to her weird, bent masturbatory adventures in her fancy academy, I think she''s entitled to one of my secrets. And I think I''m entitled to hear your problem with me in comfort."

    "... Very well, Pasche. Having observed you closely over the time we have spent together I have come to two conclusions. One, you are a woman."

    Pasche''s face goes sheet white as she suddenly realizes what this conversation is. I lay a hand on her arm, gently stroking it, letting her take full advantage of the comfort a Serena can provide.

    "And second is that your body is being remarkably uncooperative with your identity, which causes you no small amount of distress at times. Distress enough that you often skip meals to prevent body development in a direction which might make it drift further from yourself."

    Pasche reaches out and grabs my leg gently, mercifully without her gloves, giving it a little squeeze for comfort. "... How did you-"

    "As I said, I have observed you closely."

    "It''s not even been two weeks!"

    "You fascinate me, I have spent a lot of my attention on you."

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it"... So, you have a problem with that then, have a problem with who I am?"

    "I have a problem with your body being disobedient. Thankfully, I have developed a chemical solution to this-"

    "YOU''RE GOING TO MELT ME?!"

    "No... I have developed a concoction which should have your body develop in a way that conforms with the reality of you being a woman. That way you needn''t skip meals, and you needn''t distress."

    "... I beg your pardon?" Pasche''s suspicion is at once batted away and intensified, fear of ostracization replaced by fear of reality itself. "... That''s... That''s possible?!"

    "I put a lot of time into it, and while the orally administered variant is taking time to develop, I currently have an injectable-"

    "Time?! You spend all your waking hours with Katarina, how do you have time to do something like this for me?!"

    "You misunderstand, I spend all of Katarina''s waking hours with Katarina. She takes naps, I do not, and while I often enjoy observing her in her sleep, I do also appreciate the downtime for the purpose of science."

    "I... I just-"

    "I had assumed you would be happy... Have I upset you, Pasche?"

    "No! ... Well, kinda, I mean..." Pasche is struggling to find the words, and I attempt to hold her as closely as I can without taking her off my lap. "This... This is transformative for me. This literally changes the way I am capable of seeing the world in which I live. I... I thought I made peace with this pain and this wound but... But now there''s a way to treat the way my body is, to make it what I''ve always wanted to be. The world is kind enough to make this possible and... And it hurts to know that I spent twenty-four years convincing myself it was impossible."

    Xena''s eye twitches just a little, just for a second, and part of me wonders if she is actively trying to look as bored and calm as she normally is and failing. "In fairness, I never would have come up with this concoction had I not come into contact with you and noticed the necessity of it. In a sense, you built the world where this happened."

    "... You probably could''ve invented miracle drugs to cure diseases, amazing machines that could revolutionize industry, weapons of war that could conquer the world! ¡­ And you decided to make something to make one girl''s life better?"

    "Industry doesn''t fascinate me, nor does conquest. You do. Now, I have asked the Priestesses of Cotton to give me a private space in the medical tent to administer your treatment if you''ll follow me-"

    Pasche is crying.

    Crying very confused tears of joy against my lap, which provokes another little twinge of emotion out of Xena. I am happy for Pasche, I truly am... But I also remember that she was recently shot, and I can¡¯t forget just how disturbingly clean both Xena''s manor and the meat commissary were when Xena was done with them. And now I have some pertinent questions about what¡¯s about to be put in my second best friend''s body.

    "... So how did you make this concoction, Xena? What''s it made of?"

    "General-"

    "Serena."

    "Serena, I don''t think you or Pasche wish to know the source ingredients of-"

    "I need to know what you plan to put in Pasche''s body. For her own safety, and for yours just in case something goes wrong."

    This provokes a smile out of Xena, which she tries to crush, giving a casual little stretch. "Pregnant mare urine and plant extract. While I could''ve potentially used human beings instead of horses, I don''t know many pregnant human beings. The mare urine was easier to source and honestly less awkward."

    My eyes go wide, how did this nonsense occur to our resident genius?! "And... You want to inject that into Pasche?!"

    "It''s been sterilized, distilled, synthesized... This isn''t just mixing two substances and jamming it inside someone, this has been properly treated to the point where you wouldn''t even know what the source ingredients were unless I told you. Most chemicals start with substances that one might consider shocking or objectionable, but that doesn''t invalidate all of chemistry."

    I try to argue further, but Pasche atop my legs starts giggling, albeit nervously and still a little weepily. "Well... I have always liked horses... Oh gods, that makes it worse, doesn''t it?"

    "No horses were harmed in the making of this concoction, I assure you."

    "That''s a relief..."

    Pasche gets herself to a sitting position and then from there she stands up, wiping the tears from her eyes. She offers Xena a hand, which Xena accepts as another twinge of emotion tries to escape her bored facade.

    And if Pasche is willing to risk it... If it can truly make her happy, then I will not object. "... Very well, Xena... I''m sorry for being suspicious, I just care about Pasche a great deal and-"

    Xena leans in and pats my head again. "Good. Be curious, question things. Even me."

    Pasche at this point raises an eyebrow, clearly having regained enough of her composure to be curious. "You always pat or flick Serena like that. Are you trying to tame her or something?"

    "I absolutely am. She''s young, she requires guidance."

    "What about me then, are you going to flick me if I do wrong?"

    "I think you''ll know if you''ve done something wrong, Pasche."

    "... Do you pat Katarina like that then, when she does good?"

    Xena twinges again, this time it seems she¡¯s close to cracking. "Not quite like that, no."

    Pasche gives one last look back at me, realizing that she''s just said something she maybe shouldn''t have, before allowing Xena to lead her to the medical tent for her treatment. I¡¯m not quite sure what to make of Xena. She might be the scariest woman I''ve ever met. Scarier than even the seven-foot-tall, bear-wearing cannibal, and I''ve seen that woman use her halberd in training, so I know more than enough to be terrified of her. But while Katarina can kill a person as easily as she breathes, Xena seems able to destroy entire conceptions of how the world functions with but a week of time. And... She seems to do it for the right reasons, even if she¡¯s weird about it. I rub my forehead, trying to think back on her lessons.

    "Be honest, be curious, be ambitious, and put in effort."

    They¡¯re fair things to teach, it almost feels embarrassing that I have to be taught them by whatever the hell Xena is. A human? A divine monster of some description? ... A friend?

    My musings are interrupted by someone actually knocking on my door before entering for once. "Come in."

    Behind the door is a woman in uniform, and one who looks vaguely familiar. "Ah, Serena. Been a few weeks, hasn''t it?"

    It takes an embarrassing amount of time for my brain to work out that she was one of my comrade witches, even though I still don¡¯t know her name I remember her voice well enough. "Ah! I didn''t expect to see any of the other girls out here in Alemannia! What brings you out here?"

    "A brand-new regiment under your care brings me here. The 101st, at your service." She bows a rather cheeky and ill-disciplined bow. "General Serena."

    "... I half expected you to call me Pollineux."

    "You''re very loud, Serena. I don''t think there''s a girl in our barracks that doesn''t know full well that you don''t like being called ''Pollineux''. Figured I''d do you a kindness."

    "I... Appreciate the gesture."

    "And while I''m doing kindnesses, I have a gift for you! The regiment''s a gift from the royal family, naturally. Those Convention freaks wouldn''t be able to mobilize a child into a bath. But this? This is a gift from the girls back home at the academy."

    This woman, whose name I absolutely should know, slips a hand past the door frame and produces... A portrait of The Queen. An honest to gods portrait of Her divine, radiant, utterly beautiful Majesty! And one quite different from the one in our dorms, this one is a full body portrait, which still conveys her smile but gives a much better look at her figure! And the dress she wearing is more humble, but a little less modest for it, which is a trade my Velvet mind is absolutely willing to take! She¡¯s perfect, Her Majesty is perfect! ... Everyone already knows about my devotion to Her Majesty?

    "Alright, stop drooling, you damn sapphic." The officer smiles, placing the portrait delicately in my new office. "I''ll get my troops fed and situated. You... Well, I''m sure you and Her Grace have some catching up to do. Try not to be too loud now."

    Before I can even begin to form a retort my newest officer is cackling on her way down the hall, apparently finding my proclivities hilarious... Well, the joke''s on her because... Because I have not stopped staring at that painting since she left. I haven''t even blinked. But somewhere in my head I am aware that my hands are already moving places that they remember from the ¡®way back when¡¯ of almost a month ago. Maybe someone can deliver me Lazierte too, and things really will be just like they were at the academy.

    At least, they would be, if Malmo didn''t exist. I wish that man didn¡¯t continue the trend of people not knocking, opening the door with a self-satisfied smile on his face. One which quickly disappears as he notices my... Rather compromised position, and my rather hateful eyes.

    "... Serena, I believe we need to discuss our next move against the Coalition." He¡¯s trying to put on his best Xena impression, to sound utterly uninterested in what he caught me almost doing.

    I pray to Velvet for him to disappear out the door and wait for me to be done, but he simply stands there, and I have to re-adjust my uniform and get myself relatively decent. He has a point, we can''t just wait in this castle the entire war, we have to work on the momentum we¡¯ve earned... But despite knowing all of that, only one thought crosses my lips.

    "Is this how you feel when I interrupt your dinner?"

 Chapter Fourteen

    Canstatt.

    Malmo is certainly aiming high, sending our armies forth to strike at a local capital. We left a garrison back at the castle and made our march. At least it isn''t that much deeper into enemy territory, just a day''s march away from our new castle, which is just a day''s march to the border. The troops seem displeased that their little vacation is at an end, or at least most of them do. The 101st is in high spirits, singing old war songs and marching with a spring in their step... Their muskets are just as old as the rest of my troops, salvaged from the dusty stockpiles of wars long over, refurbished just in time for this one. The boots they were issued are just as slapdash and falling apart, and yet those wearing them seem to know their duty. Amazingly, they even look like they¡¯re happy to do it! Perhaps they¡¯re simply a more veteran unit? The soldiers do look older... Though I think their officer might simply be good at what she does. Either way, my other regiments might learn a thing or two from them.

    Malmo''s troops, as always, have the better kit. Marching alongside him for the first time really makes the difference quite stark, the difference between the modern army he¡¯s been given and the relics of the past I¡¯m expected to work with. And yet his troops complain about blisters and the endless marching just as much as mine, despite not looking nearly as young. Seems a waste of good men with good kit on a bad commander, but Pasche has a point when she says ''loyal to The Convention'' has a couple of meanings¡­

    Well, hopefully they¡¯re still up to the task of soldiery, The Teutonic Dominion has sided with the Coalition and has done so in force. Oddly, they appear to have chosen to meet us out in the field rather than taking the city for cover. I can''t imagine any military utility to this, and the vicious pirates of the Dominion don¡¯t seem like humanitarian sorts.

    "Maybe they''re simply ensuring that we don''t ruin the vineyards near the city."

    That sounds more like them... Still, something feels off about this.

    Perhaps they simply believe Serena Pollineux is a rookie commander who can¡¯t handle an open battle, that they can simply hold their ground and crush the child opposing them... Well nuts to that, screw them! I will not be underestimated by these marauders!

    Malmo has taken the center and the right flank, leaving me and my troops to secure the left. Me and my not many troops, even with reinforcements from the 101st and our mercenary friends we still only number under 4000 infantry, not supported by many cannons. This will take some effort... The enemy''s right flank is anchored on a hillside, they have the terrain advantage, this will take some extreme effort.

    Mercifully, I''ve been working on a new trick on the march here. Now all I need to do is develop a plan... I realize quite quickly that the shabbiness of my troops can be to my benefit in this instance, I just... I just have to spend some flesh. Spend some flesh and get the Teutons off this hill, break their left flank, and roll up their army. It has to be done, it¡¯s necessary, or everyone will die. Damn the Marshal, damn Steel¡­

    The 79th, 81st, and 54th will make the charge on the hill. And they will fail. And they will retreat. All the while our cannons will be on counter-battery duty, ensuring that the Teutons have to give chase with their infantry. Infantry who will then run into the fresh, disciplined troops of the 101st, and the nightmarishly terrifying troops under Katarina, with the 68th in reserve in case anything goes wrong. It''s a perfect plan, and it only requires a few hundred of my own troops to be bashed against enemy lines fruitlessly, knowingly sent to their deaths.

    Just a few hundred premeditated murders, I can absolutely live with that on my conscience. It¡¯s for the good of all! It¡¯s for Her Majesty

    ¡­ At least with Xena handling the cannons they won''t have to worry about enemy artillery fire, the heads of the Teutonic artillerists will be firmly down. If I had any cavalry to my name Pasche would be more than able to take responsibility for them, I''d trust her with the lives of hundreds. As it stands, I have exactly one horse, mine, and thus I can only trust Pasche with one life, my own... Stupid Pasche, she better not get herself shot protecting me again.

    I communicate the plan to the troops, much to the dismay of most of them.

    I can''t simply throw my power out over all of them, this was going to require some precise maneuvers beyond the capacity of courage-drunk formations. But brave men still listen to their officers, this is where my new trick comes in. I cast out my magic, catching the troops of the 54th, 79th, and 81st... With holes to let their officers through. It takes some precise maneuvering of my magic, but that was only fair, wasn''t it?

    I''ll have to march close to them to keep this complicated arrangement going, though it¡¯s less of a march and more a lean on Pasche to half-carry me as my strength quickly begins to wane. The guns of Malmo''s center line fire, it is time. We have been swallowed by this battlefield now, and we will have to fight our way out of its stomach.

    I focus on my heartbeat, on my steps, on Pasche''s shoulder under my arm. When the muskets start singing I will need to focus on them, to find the best time for our faux retreat. But for the march, I just have to live, something that for most people would probably be simple. I am not most people, each step is another exertion, even being half-carried by Pasche. Just keeping my heart beating is hard enough¡­ But I don''t have to ¡®only live¡¯ for long. Soon the gunfire rings out and I can feel the first of my men slip away from my power, like grains of sand slipping through my fingers. Our troops soon return fire, firing by rows, standing their ground and being butchered by the Teutonic defenders. We have to sell this as a legitimate attempt after all, we have to be willing to die for this. A bullet whizzes past my head and Pasche kneels down, taking me lower to the ground... It¡¯s shameful, being hunkered down while people die for me. I catch Pasche in my magic, hoping she¡¯d get me standing upright again, but she only takes me lower, angling us so she can shield me with her body. Not quite what I wanted, my magic is starting to seem more than a little unreliable in inspiring courage.

    Another volley rings out, and another smattering of young men die for me. Another volley, but we can''t retreat yet. Another volley, we''ve almost spilled enough blood, even as my heart is a simple hole full of pain. One more volley¡­

    "SOUND THE RETREAT!"

    I was hoping to give a grand shout that all the troops might hear... As it stands, I''m slightly concerned that not even Pasche can hear me over the guns. She must have managed to though, as she relays my order to the musicians, who sound the retreat.

    Not as orderly a retreat as I¡¯d like, but telling courage-drunk troops to flee is always going to be a contentious order. Still, we get moving, Pasche practically drags me away from the fight as my feet stop cooperating and my vision starts to swim. Just a little longer, just until the trap is sprung.

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    "Avernia! Leather!"

    I have no idea how Katarina can scream so loud, but it¡¯s a very welcome sound now.

    The Teutons chase us as expected, and now they¡¯re facing off with Leather''s Finest. They fire once, then charge like screaming monsters, slashing Teutons apart as they attempt to reform their lines. Another volley follows, the 101st is pouring shot onto our disorganized enemy. It¡¯s going perfectly! The formerly fleeing troops of our assault regiments turn around, ready for some measure of payback. We... We might win this! I can barely see, but somewhere in the mass of blurry vignettes of violence I know the Teutons were scared.

    "... Pasche. Are we winning? I can''t see anything."

    Pasche reaches a hand to my chest, feeling my ailing heart, before giving me a very mild slap in the face. "We''re winning, we''re doing great, you can give your heart a rest now!"

    I trust her word, releasing the troops from my spell and breathing a sigh of relief as suddenly my sight returns to me. I see fleeing Teutons, see our victorious soldiers, see... Red banners on the horizon, bearing the Stag''s head upon them... Icenians. Icenians are pouring in from the horizon, thousands of them. Tens of thousands, and with cavalry and cannons and... And a witch, if I remember right. We''re outflanked. We''re outflanked by so superior a force that we cannot even begin to dream of overcoming it. Even if we manage to take that hill from the Teutons we''ll just be knocked off it, even if we roll up the entire Teutonic line we''ll simply be crushed before we can reform. This... This is perfect.

    We are about to be perfectly destroyed, and there is nothing I can do. And if we are destroyed, no one will be left to protect the homeland. The Coalition will pour into Avernia and tear it apart if we all die here. What should I do? What in the hell am I supposed to do?!

    ... I made a promise to Lazierte, didn''t I? "Retreat! There are Icenians on our flank, retreat!"

    Pasche looks at me as if I''ve grown an extra head, before turning her head towards the hills just in time for the Icenian cannons to fire. Solid shot tears through Avernian and Teuton alike, in their haste to fire at us the Icenians haven''t factored their allies in... Or maybe they have, there¡¯s a lot of bad blood between Icenia and The Dominion. Either way, this is simply not a place we can continue to be.

    If there is one bright side to this, it¡¯s that the Teutons turn tail and run upon being shelled, being shot at by their own allies is apparently one indignity too many for them. Which means nothing is stopping us from fleeing too, which we do in quick order, returning to our rally point to tell Xena and the 68th that we are leaving.

    It¡¯s only when we arrive there that we realize Katarina didn''t follow us. Looking back, green uniforms swarmed the hill, literally carving through the Teutons... She spoke German, her troops didn''t catch the order to retreat because it was in Avernian, gods damn it!

    Xena shouts at the artillerists, giving some fast and complicated orders as she- Is she stealing my horse?! "Fire until the barrels melt, fire until the grass beneath you catches fire, do not stop firing. Do not stop firing."

    It seems we¡¯ve found out what would break Xena''s composure. I already know where she''ll be riding, and I already know I can''t stop her. All I can do was pray. For the first time in my life, I genuinely pray to Steel. That Xena and Katarina and the greenjackets would escape this alive, that I wouldn''t be spending their flesh today... I have to make my way to Malmo, he has to be warned, his men need to make it out of this. My troops alone aren¡¯t enough to protect the Alemannian border, without his men we¡¯d be easily swept aside and the Coalition would march into our cities unopposed.

    Without a horse to ride I simply run, I run as fast as I can. Pasche barely managed to keep pace with me as our soldiers behind us retreat as quickly as they could, the officers doing all in their power to prevent it from being a rout.

    The situation at Malmo''s center is rather dire, the Teutons are pressing his position hard and he doesn''t seem to have a counter. Perhaps it will be easier to convince him to flee then, given he¡¯s losing even without Icenians shelling him. He¡¯s utterly apoplectic to see me as I stumble towards him, barely keeping to my feet as I make it to his little command tent.

    "Pollineux?! You are supposed to be at the left wing of the army, why are you here-"

    "Icenians!"

    The word is more a gasping breath than real speech, and I feel like I¡¯m about to collapse from exhaustion. The only thing holding me steady is Pasche, herself clearly rather exhausted after making the run wearing armor.

    "... Come again, General Pollineux?"

    "Icenians! Tens of thousands of them, on the left flank and ready to sweep us away! This... This whole battle was a trap, we have to get out of here!"

    "You would flee in the face of the enemy? The Avernian press would never forgive it!"

    "The citizens of Avernia won''t be alive to forgive us if we lose the entire Army of the East here! Don''t you get it, Malmo, we''re the only thing between the Coalition forces in Alemannia and our home! We can''t allow ourselves to be destroyed by ambush!"

    "Seems to me that dead citizens aren''t ones who can rally against ¡®the cowards of the Army of the East.¡¯ Pollineux, think of your prospects-"

    It occurs to me that I can probably just use my magic on him, get him to be brave enough to risk the ire of column inches to avoid columns of infantry bearing down on us. I punch him in the face, sending him to the floor, in no mood to open my heart to this careerist.

    He rubs his jaw on the ground before slowly rising to his feet, giving a deep sigh as Pasche advances on him, clearly ready to deliver another, much scarier blow. "... Fine. Take the army. I''ll cover your retreat, you just... Make sure there is an Avernia to mourn my sacrifice."

    ... This has got to be a trap all its own. This is too great a swerve, too out of character for the General Malmo I know... But whatever trap he has planned, it has to be better than being dead. And it¡¯s certainly better than our homeland being turned upside down to find whatever the heck ''The Heart'' is. I  nod, and he dispatches riders to his regiments. Only from here can I truly appreciate the sheer size this battle has been, tens of thousands of men spread over a vast distance. I simply hope they get the message in time¡­

    With our retreat secured Pasche takes my hand, doing half the work of pulling my exhausted self away from the battlefield.

    If we are going to be any kind of cohesive fighting force at the end of our flight, the troops will need leadership... I wish Malmo had at least been nice enough to offer a horse for our return to our troops. Still, after another impromptu sprint I am greeted by my soldiers, broken and haggard but all alive, even as they trudge along the road slowly. I catch them in my magic, some courage might speed their pace and we need every single advantage. And as they make their way from the battlefield, I find Xena and Katarina among them, sharing my poor, long suffering horse, with the greenjackets following close behind. At least a fair number of the greenjackets, their insane piety was always going to lead to some of them not coming back. They seem a little annoyed at having to retreat, even Katarina lacks her usual smile. But they''re alive, they can smile later.

    I take one last look back at the field we¡¯d just escaped from, and find that Malmo''s troops are forming along the road as well, joining our retreat as the gunfire and cannons draw nearer, as Malmo and his handpicked regiments make their heroic last stand to give us more time to get away. Trap or not, it seems the man is a little braver than I gave him credit for.

    Or maybe I am simply more cowardly than I ever imagined.

 Chapter Fifteen

    We march till the sun comes down, thinking we''ll have our castle to fall back on, to prepare for a sudden defense. Imagine our surprise when the rubble that greets us doesn''t look especially defensible. It seems the remains of the Thuringian army were looking for revenge, escorting artillerists carrying Icenian colors shelling the castle. That Icenian witch has planned this well, she knew exactly where to strike to cut off our retreat.

    But she¡¯s severely underestimated just how many of us would make it out of her trap at Canstatt. There are more than enough Thuringians to overwhelm the garrison we left behind but not nearly enough to even pose a threat to our retreating troops. Some of the Thuringians bravely stand their ground to protect the guns of their Icenian allies. They are torn apart by a deluge of lead and smoke, accomplishing little but wasting our bullets and precious time. Most of their soldiers are much more sensible and flee as far and fast as they can, and I am not inclined to chase them. The few of them that surrender are a lot more awkward to deal with. We don''t have the facilities to take prisoners, their Icenian friends made sure of that.

    Ultimately, I order them disarmed and set free. Same with the Icenian artillerists. Maybe that¡¯ll come back to haunt us someday, but what am I supposed to do? Have them shot? No, Delphine can simply deal with having her loaned artillerists back, maybe rescuing them will slow her army down. Like rescuing our garrison does, most of whom seem to be mercifully intact, taking cover amongst the ruins of our little home away from the homeland. We end up taking a break here, giving ourselves some time to reload our muskets and count our men.

    Xena brings out the water barrels of the castle for the troops to have a drink. Or rather Katarina hauls them out, under Xena¡¯s direction and supervision, the two complement each other well. Everyone feels better after having a drink, a lot better, ready to march again. It¡¯s odd to see the men ready to walk more miles today, but everyone seems energized after our little victory against the Thuringians. Even my long-suffering horse is raring and ready to go after a nice water break. I figure that Pasche should probably take to her actual role as one of my officers and see to Malmo¡¯s cavalry, but I know for a fact she¡¯ll refuse to leave my side. Insubordinate...

    But it means I get to share a saddle with a friend, which helps me carry the shame of having fled the field. After all, Pasche is alive because of me. Xena and Katarina are alive because of me. Almost 20,000 troops are now alive because of me. No matter how wrong this is, it has to be worth it. It has to be¡­

    Our next stop is the Helven Oppidum; and seeing how much information Delphine appears to have about our positions I expect to have to fight to defend Xena''s home. That¡¯s a fair thing to consider, come to think of it, how did she know we were going to attack Canstatt? We didn''t exactly report it back home, it wouldn''t have ended up in any newspapers, right? We were waiting in that castle for a while and we never spotted anyone who might''ve given away our plans or position. So how did she know? ... Who told her?

    An exploding mine takes my mind off that train of thought, which I¡¯m honestly grateful for. The battle for the Oppidum has apparently begun, and the Coalition troops have just met our defenses. The mine explosions are soon followed by the muskets of our garrison troops; the mines aren''t much use if you give the enemy the chance to look down and find them after all. The garrison is doing its job well, we''d easily be able to reach them in time.

    They can''t see our banners approach in the dark, but our drums and bugles are enough to imply the sheer weight of the force coming to the defense of the Manor. Which quickly sends the Coalition troops into a panicked retreat, though we do take a volley of fire from our own garrison before we get close enough for them to notice that we¡¯re friends... What useless waste, what a stupid tragedy... What a sad way to go for those men now bleeding their last on the road, crying and clutching their wounds. But apparently these things happen when you try to do things at night¡­

    As the priestesses of Cotton attempt to provide aid to our unfortunately shot comrades Xena and Katarina bring around the water barrels again, and it raises the troops¡¯ spirits almost a little too well. It¡¯s as if no one was shot at all, as if we haven''t done over a day''s marching already. The soldiers are already eager to move again. It takes a bit of convincing from the officers to have them wait and rest long enough for the wounded to be patched up, and for the dead to be buried. And for Xena to take a few key pieces from her laboratory, given she¡¯s unlikely to be back here for a while.

    Seeing her riding on Katarina''s back as the mad priestess pushes a wheelbarrow full of science-y gizmos is honestly a little sweet. Almost enough to make me not want to ask Xena some pressing questions I am beginning to have.

    The march once again continues at a bizarrely enthusiastic pace. After a nice drink of water even some of the wounded are on their feet, much to the clear confusion and distress of the priestesses who were trying to treat them. Seeing that I point Pasche towards Xena and Katarina, once again needing to ask what Xena is putting inside my subordinates... Once again I need to ask what ''chemical solution'' Xena is employing on my subordinates.

    Pasche steers the horse so we ride beside Xena, and I realize just how similar a situation the two of us are in, being carried through the hard part of the march... Well, we have hard questions, so I had to believe that justified it. "... Xena, what precisely have you put into my subordinates?"

    Pasche giggles as I say exactly the wrong thing, and to add insult to injury Xena whispers something to Katarina that makes her cackle. Katarina''s cackling is a rather powerful, booming sound, I have to assume it could be confused for cannon fire. And might be almost as lethal at close range¡­

    I take a deep breath and try again, hopefully this time I get an explanation and not a laugh. "Xena, the troops are marching beyond what''s naturally possible. Did you do something to them?"

    Xena looks at me curiously, before reaching out and patting my head. "Good, questioning things."

    "I''ll flick your forehead if you don''t answer my question, Xena."

    "Haaah... When I saw the castle had fallen I knew we had to put as much distance between the Icenians and us as possible so we could find a better, more defensible location. With that in mind I laced the water barrels with my chemical solution to sleep, so we could march through the night."

    "... You drugged my men?"

    "To save their lives, yes. They''ll need a long rest once we get wherever we end up, but they''ll wake up after. Which may not have been possible if we were still at the ruined castle, trying to nurse our poor, hurt feet."

    I sigh, I know she¡¯s right but this still feels wrong... "Just, don''t make a habit of it. Or at least ask permission first next time."

    "Ask your permission or ask the troops?"

    "Yes."

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version."... That sounds infeasible, but I''ll try my best if you''re sure."

    "I''m sure."

    "I''ll try my best."

    I feel myself starting to wane. I hadn''t taken a second drink, and despite riding on a horse it has still been a rough night. I hold onto Pasche tighter, maybe at least someone in the army should get some sleep tonight. And it seems like it must be me¡­

    I wake up as the horse suddenly halts, which fills me with panic and has me reaching for my sword before I realize there probably aren''t any nearby Icenian and Teutonic armies. The sun is up and is nice and warm, a little like Pasche but further away. Groggily I take in my surroundings and find that the army has stopped at a large town... A slightly familiar-looking town. We passed this town on our march to Alemannia, didn''t we? We¡¯re in Avernia. We¡¯re home.

    The villagers look at our haggard soldiers with concern, some having come out with food or water, others talking amongst one another. I should probably take charge of the situation; I should probably get off this horse¡­

    I fall off the horse, but manage to get myself to my rather shaky legs, leaving me wondering if I maybe should have drunk more of the water. At least then I¡¯d be somewhat upright. Still, while this problem might have a chemical solution, I¡¯m more comfortable being my own imperfect solution for now. It¡¯s that or risk becoming dependent on whatever Xena is on all the time, which as a prospect terrifies me on a primal level¡­

    The arrival of a rather well-dressed man breaks my concentration and instead provokes my ire. The man is clearly a priest of Wool, one who is examining Katarina with obvious shock and concern. Still, as reticent as I am to speak with one of my least favorite god¡¯s biggest fans, I reckon talking with him is probably the best place to start asserting my authority and control over the situation.

    "Hello monsieur. I am General Serena Pollineux of the Avernian Army. We are-"

    "Okay but who is that and what is she doing here?"

    "... She''s an ally-"

    "Why is she not wearing any clothing? Make her wear clothing."

    "She is wearing clothing; she''s wearing a bear."

    "That doesn''t count!"

    "Look..." I pinch the bridge of my nose; priests of Wool are almost as insufferable as their monsters. "She''s a priestess of Leather, what she wears is a religious sacrament... Probably. Either way, she is very large and you are unlikely to convince her of anything."

    "It''s obscene."

    "Welcome to the army."

    "And what exactly is the army doing here, moving the wrong way down the road?" Finally, he¡¯s on the right topic.

    Even if he could certainly be less of a jerk about it. "We encountered overwhelming force, and thus for the purposes of ensuring that there was still an army between the Coalition and the citizens of Avernia we employed a strategic withdrawal-"

    "You ran?!" He speaks loud enough that other townsfolk can hear, which does nothing to make them any more confident about the army that just limped their way to their doorstep.

    "... We did what was necessary to continue protecting Avernia."

    "Yeah well, I certainly feel protected seeing our battered army wandering into town-"

    "Would you feel safer if it were an Icenian army, monsieur?" That mercifully shuts him up, even if his words do make me realize something. "... The troops are going to need a place to rest, they''ve had a very long march to get here, and they are going to have to fortify this town before the Coalition arrives."

    "... Come again-"

    "If the Coalition is still pursuing us then they are going to arrive here, no matter what we do." At this point I¡¯m mumbling, plotting to myself out loud. "If we lived to protect Avernia then we have to protect all of Avernia, and that includes this place. I need to find places for cannons, I need to set up firing positions, I need to-"

    "Ugh, typical army types... Fine, we''ll get to it." The priest''s voice manages to snap me out of my stupor.

    And leaves me very confused. "You''ll get to what exactly?"

    "We know this place better than you lot, and we''re good honest folk here. When King and Country''s under threat, we get ready to protect it. So we''ll dig you your trenches, we''ll find good ground for your cannons, so you and your ilk can have a nice long sleep while we put in the work, yeah?"

    "... I''m sorry, you''ll... This is a job for the army, surely!"

    "A job for you lot, yes. For us, it''s just life. Wool would ask no less of us."

    "But... But I can''t just put civilians into harm''s way!"

    "You''d have me accept that... Woman''s attire for religious reasons, you best be okay with me and mine working for you for the same reason."

    "Those aren''t nearly the same thing!"

    "It is to us. Alright, I''ll get the lads together, let them know we''re doing the army''s job for it while it gets its beauty sleep. Wool knows you all need it."

    I rub my eyes, admittedly I probably look terrible after sleeping in the saddle during a two-day march that had been condensed into a single night... "Okay... You grab whatever volunteers you can, I''ll... I''ll make sure the men take residence in town peacefully."

    "Heh, ''what volunteers I can'', I''m not the mayor of Alsace for nothing you know."

    "Wait what-"

    The priest... The mayor-priest leaves without answering my admittedly dumb question, ready to form a labor battalion or two for us. Shame will build upon shame it seems. First I had to flee a battlefield, now I have to rely on civilians to do the work of soldiers?! ... Am I being punished for something? I was awfully proud when I was behind the walls of a newly taken castle, when I was getting reinforcements, when things seemed to be going well... Did anything like this ever happen to my brother?

    ... Whatever this is, this is what is happening to me now. To Serena Pollineux, not my brother. And I will see us through it. I make my way back to the troops, organizing all these men into somewhere they can sleep is going to be a pain, but it¡¯s part of the process.

    Let those citizens laugh at our slapdash army for now, we''ll protect them regardless. No matter what indignities I have to endure.

 Chapter Sixteen

    Despite their smug contempt, I can¡¯t fault the efforts of the townsfolk of Alsace. Not only are they more than capable of digging trenches, building fortifications, and finding good places for the artillery but also of feeding over 20,000 sudden guests undergoing withdrawal symptoms. Remarkably important, since our commissary staff are also undergoing withdrawal symptoms, and have little food to work with besides.

    So

    the troops can recover from their march in relative comfort. We had made good time and the Coalition army will take at least another day to reach us. The men seem almost ready for battle for the first time since we marched out of Alesia, even without my magic and with Xena''s concoction out of their system. Perhaps Malmo''s more experienced troops are being a good influence on them. Or maybe they¡¯re finally getting used to this whole soldiery business, they have been thrown into a lot of madness this month.

    Or perhaps it''s because the village girls have been cooking their meals and washing their uniforms, no one was immune from Wool''s labor draft here... Not that I can complain, one of them managed to wash the troll blood right off my boots! It¡¯s as if they were never saturated with the stuff.

    I try not to think about how these devoted supplicants of Wool learned how to wash off troll blood so effectively. Either way, they''ve done us a service, so we must respond in kind and make sure they survive what comes next. Coming up with plans for a suddenly much larger force on my own is honestly a rather mammoth undertaking, and while Xena''s insight, the Mayor''s familiarity with the town, and Pasche''s savvy is helping, it does ultimately fall to me and my two years of officer training.

    "The main thing is to avoid being surrounded. If we put the more veteran units in the earthworks in front of the town, they''ll be able to trade fire before making an orderly retreat into the town, which will hopefully draw the enemy into the town itself, where we''ll have fortified firing positions and cannons with good sight lines. If the left and right flanks hold, the enemy is likely to press on the ''opportunity'' in the center and end up right where we want them."

    "Didn''t you try to trick them last time, Serena? Won''t they be wise to it?" Pasche squeezes my hand, clearly uncomfortable with having to disagree with me. "Will they make the same mistake twice?"

    "They did win that battle, Pasche. Perhaps that''ll give them enough confidence for them to overlook the actions on their left flank... Though we should keep the cavalry in reserve to support the wings in case the enemy focuses their attention there." I run my thumb over the back of Pasche''s hand and give her the best smile I can. "That''ll have to be your job I''m afraid, hedging my bets."

    ¡°I suppose that makes sense¡­ Though if we are going with this plan, I think it¡¯s probably best to put the veteran units on the flanks, the parts we absolutely need to hold. It might be better to give the job of dying to the less valuable troops¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­ Won¡¯t less experienced troops be less able to execute their orders? What happens if they don¡¯t retreat in time?¡±

    ¡°Serena, I think that they¡¯ll know how to run away perfectly well¡­¡± Pasche sounds genuinely depressed having to tell me this. ¡°I think it¡¯s the thing we can most easily rely on the newer units for.¡±

    ¡°¡­ I would prefer as many of us to survive this fight as possible, Pasche.

    ¡°That means we actually have to win, Serena.¡±

    Pasche is correct, of course. Winning this is hardly a sure thing even with a plan, and it¡¯s best to seize every advantage we can get. If only I still had those cowardly bodyguards as sharpshooters¡­ I squeeze Pasche¡¯s hand, and move the little token representing the 101st, swapping it for the regiment protecting the right side of town, in the woods.

    The Mayor is more than a little displeased by Pasche and my casual little closeness, clearing his throat rather loudly as if that would dissuade us. "Fortifying the woods on the right side of town is a lost cause. There''s something in there, goats and pigs sometimes wander in, and they never come out again. Farmers too, the stupid ones at any rate."

    Pasche picks up on this man¡¯s disdain for our handholding and develops from it with a disdain for this man entirely. "... I''m fairly certain whatever''s in there is no match for the Avernian army, monsieur."

    "You need every man you can get, missy! Better to not waste them finding out whatever''s in there."

    "It''s an important strategic position!"

    "It''s a death trap-"

    Xena pinches the bridge of her nose with one hand, moving the token behind the woods¡­ Clearly all this battle planning is giving her a headache. "Why don''t we just deploy our troops behind the woods and let the Coalition find out whatever''s in there? And if it''s no match for them, then we can just take the woods with our troops after. Whatever''s got your goats is probably scary enough to freak out even the most cool and collected soldiers."

    Xena has a point, and that gives me the most bizarre desire to get some vengeance, reaching out to pat her head. "Good, good thinking-"

    And of course, she can¡¯t resist turning that around on me. "Maybe it''s even ghosts, we know those scare even Generals."

    I recoil my hand, much to Xena''s clear amusement. Even if her smile remains calm and composed, her eyes are just that little bit animated. Pasche meanwhile gives Xena the sharpest eyes she can, which only amuses Xena further, provoking an actual smile from her¡­ She¡¯s become more expressive since Katarina joined the army.

    Which the Mayor¡¯s limited patience can¡¯t tolerate, even if he does give a nod of approval. "If nothing else it''ll be good to know who to sacrifice to so we can get rid of the monsters if they come back. We don''t typically get armies running around here solving our problems, just trampling our fields and eating our livestock."

    "You''ve dealt with Coalition raids here before?"

    "No."

    "Then- ... Ah. I will question the men and attempt to find any culprits I can."

    "Don''t bother, it''s just the lot in life of country folk. Sometimes ''Father Alesia'' comes down from on high and we must all show our respect. No matter what they do."

    "... Boring." Xena is clearly tempted to flick the mayor-priest of Alsace on the forehead. "If something''s bad, you try to stop it. If something''s inadequate you try to fix it. If something''s good, you try to improve it. ''Lot in life'' is boring."

    The priest is clearly tempted to slap Xena in the face. "H... How dare you?! What would your father think if he heard his daughter say things like that?!"

    "He''d probably think that being eaten by trolls is unpleasant. Because he was eaten by trolls like the rest of my family."

    "Clearly before he could teach you any manners-"

    "This was less than two weeks ago."

    "... Still!" The priest struggles to formulate an argument until one finally manages to reach his brain¡­

    Which is immediately interrupted as Katarina enters our command tent. It takes some awkward contortion as the tent clearly isn''t intended to house her seven-foot-tall frame, or the extra half foot the bear''s head of her attire added. Before the Mayor-Priest can even begin to get liturgical about the importance of family or whatever, Xena has already been picked up by the large, smiling behemoth of a woman, who carries her out of the room. Xena gives us a wave on the way out, she and Katarina apparently have their own preparations to make.

    Pasche, the Mayor, and I all stare dumbfounded at the tent flap for a moment, realizing all at once that the world is at times a silly place, before our gracious host simply sighs. "I bet she''s been listening to some Cotton nonsense, damn kids."

    "Right..." I decide to leave out the part where I¡¯m even younger than Xena, and indeed Pasche, and certainly the aged Mayor. "Well, I''d best make sure my people have their orders."

    "And I''d best make sure my people have theirs. Best of luck, General Pollineux."

    He leaves the tent with a casual air that makes me wonder if I¡¯m supposed to know what he means by that. I don''t have a lot of time to speculate however, I soon have an armored cuirassier holding me closely. Which, while not unwelcome, is a little sudden and takes me off guard a bit. Even more so when she attempts to lift me off the ground.

    "P... Pasche?! What are you-"

    Pasche manages to get me off my feet, briefly, before quickly laying me down again sheepishly. "... I wanted to see if I could do it. Katarina made it look easy."

    "I''m not entirely convinced that Katarina is human! ... Also I-"

    "And it''s also your fault for making a plan that separates us. I mean, what if something happens and your knight is not around to save you?!"

    "Then you''ll be spared a second bullet on my account."

    "Yeah, and you''ll take it instead! And forgive me for saying so Serena, but you don''t have the same track record surviving these things that I do-"

    "You survived one time, Pasche!"

    "One time so far, I''m willing to increase my winning streak if it keeps you out of harm''s way."

    "... Don''t think I''m going to kiss you every time you get shot for me, I''m still a little mad."

    "That''s- ... That''s absolutely not what I was thinking." The red in her cheeks and her averted eyes make it pretty clear that it isn''t not what she¡¯s thinking. "I just... The army needs you. Right now, Avernia needs you, twenty thousand people need you, and all these townsfolk need you. And... And that''s all the reason I need really!"

    "... I thought you didn''t much care for Avernia-"

    "So I¡¯d best get to the cavalry now!" Pasche slinks away from me, clearly leaving a lot unsaid, and only getting through a bit of it on her way out of the tent. "... Promise me you''ll be okay? Promise me you won''t die when what happens happens."

    ... I am going to break so many promises one day. "I promise. Now you promise me the same- Hey, get back here!"

    Pasche slips out of the tent without another word, the absolute nerve! It¡¯s almost enough to make a girl want to die out of spite, I swear... Almost. But even if she¡¯s being disingenuous, she is also infuriatingly correct... My life carries a lot of weight in this army, a great many people will die should I fail, or indeed die. On a large scale, maybe it''s for the best that she dies instead of me.

    I imagine that''s what a grown-up would say... I hate it.

    In any case, I spent the next few hours issuing orders, trying to move a frankly stunning amount of men and materiel into position, setting up lines of communication, setting up my command center in the town¡¯s bell tower... And praying. I find through this process; a great many soldiers are praying. A great many civilians are too, hoping their ''brothers in the army'' will be safe...

    I wonder if Anastasia Delphine and her troops are praying. After all, her planning so far has been utterly perfect, except for the part where we escaped with an army and not a smattering of deserters. Is she scared? This town looks idyllic, beautiful, and pastoral, a rather beautiful normal. It must be scary to look at it knowing that it¡¯s really a twisted mess of firing positions and prepared artillery¡­ For how long will it look so normal?

    "General! Banners on the horizon!"

    An adjutant brings me back to reality with a shout and a helpful telescope, which allows me to confirm that yes, those are banners of the Coalition approaching. Teutons, with over a dozen others from more minor Principalities within the Confederation. Seems like the rest of Germany has come to try their luck. But oddly enough, there are no Icenian banners among them... Perhaps Anastasia has some other grand scheme in mind?

    Well, whatever she has up her sleeve, she won''t be inflicting it on the people of this town. "Adjutant, make sure the men know to be ready for combat. There are an awful lot of them coming this way and I think we might be at this for a while."

    "Yes, General!"

    The bell tower in the center of town sits beside the Grove of Wool which dominates the town square, and gives a perfect view of the entire town. I can observe the whole field from here, give orders with flags, maybe even cast my magic from here. I can''t let myself be killed now; I''ve made too many promises. So I¡¯ll be tied to my little command post for the duration of the battle¡­ If all else fails it¡¯s not a bad place for a heroic last stand.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.The Coalition troops press on the flanks and the center, and I notice that on every front their soldiers occasionally just fall into the ground. The townsfolk must have been digging stake pits and preparing traps as well as defenses... Helpful, but it feels almost profane, like I''ve forced the bloodletting onto the innocent. Either way, it slows the enemy down, giving plenty of opportunities for the troops to shoot them. We have to make our stand in the center look convincing after all, and make our stand on the flanks be convincing... On the left anyway, on the right the brave soldiers of the Coalition march unopposed into the forest...

    And did not reappear, disappearing entirely into the trees. Soon, the enemy forces are focusing an entire battery of cannons on it, as if they can simply blow up the woods entirely and avoid whatever is so terrifying within. Maybe one of the Coalition¡¯s soldiers will be kind enough to tell us what they found in those woods after we beat them.

    The regiment in the center is wavering, as intended but it still doesn''t sit right with me to sacrifice the troops in deliberately untenable positions. It might be time for their retreat... I raise the flag to order the retreat, a signal they eagerly accept, fleeing into the town proper in a panic. Into the narrow streets of the town, where the enemy follows... Into volleys of musket fire, into pre-sighted cannons with canister shot, and... Surprisingly into flowerpots and kitchen utensils thrown from the windows of nearby houses, hitting officers and troops alike. It¡¯s utter chaos, but it¡¯s chaos the enemy simply keeps sending men into, and no matter how good our positions are they simply can¡¯t be perfect.

    My troops are pushed back to the second defensive line, further in town, ready to repeat the whole process over again as the Teutons try to regroup. And begin clearing houses, apparently having taken exception to having pots, pans and washing basins being thrown upon their heads... Each of those thrown items were thrown by a person, someone else left to die for the sake of the defense, and now those people are at the mercy of the enemy. Given the powder smoke slipping wistfully from their homes, escaping through their windows, mercy is clearly not something the Coalition has to spare.

    I clench my teeth, the enemy is moving on the right flank again, apparently now relatively confident that they''ve slain whatever resides within those woods. Given the subsequent musket smoke, and how few of them make it out of the other side of the treeline, it appears they¡¯d simply managed to make whatever is in there very, very mad. Whatever monster had resided there is now dead though, so our right flank can advance and take the forest from the shellshocked men emerging from it... They don''t even put up a fight, upon seeing an Avernian charge they surrender outright... Scary things wander this world, things beyond the ability of military discipline to handle.

    The left flank is wavering now, the Coalition''s tide is seeking the path of least resistance and has found it there. I throw my magic out and catch them in it, and while it quickly stings to do so from so far away, we simply have to hold there to the last man, to the last heartbeat...

    The last man comes sooner than I¡¯m comfortable with, and now the enemy has us on two fronts, ready to press into town. At least, until our cavalry swings in to punish them for their clever plans. It wasn''t enough, it¡¯s not nearly enough to sweep the Teutons away, but it''ll buy time. Buy time to... To bring up guns, to bring up reserves, to¡­

    "There are simply too many of them... We don''t have enough flesh to spend..."

    Some of the houses on the outskirts of town have been set on fire, whether it¡¯s the Coalition''s attempt at revenge or some last-minute scheme by the townsfolk to turn their very homes into a weapon against our attackers, I do not know. It all seems so ridiculous now, as the smoke covers Alsace and consumes it entirely, obscuring my view of the horrors below. The Gods are certainly laughing, knowing I tried to protect this place¡­ The heat of the fire carries on the Summer breeze, forming a new weather pattern for a world carved out of the normal one by overwhelming violence. With hopeless eyes I catch a glimpse of the motion in the smoke, steel glinting in the firelight, and in a nauseating moment I finally see the truth.

    What moves in the shadows are not human beings, no human beings can survive what the town has become. These are not soldiers, they are the arms of a giant beast, tipped in steel and always hungry, stalking the town looking for fresh meat. A godless monster of humankind¡¯s own making, a single organism that cannot be stopped by even thousands of deaths. Its limbs merely roll over the bodies left in its wake and continue moving, surging forth, consuming everything, transforming the very ground they walk upon into this same hell.This beast, this monster¡­ My army was meant to be this too. I finally understand what the Marshal meant, the true extent of his parting wisdom. This kind of monster needs a head, and that head was supposed to be me, pushing my nightmarish limbs to consume all before me. My soldiers were supposed to be naught but claws and teeth for me to eat my fill. I descend from the bell tower, never happier to break a promise. I will be torn apart by the nightmare creature, just like my soldiers, and I will never need to know this secret again.

    Descending into the smoke I soon find myself among the troops, and for a moment they simply stare at me, not knowing what to think. This whole thing is entirely my fault, it has to be, I simply could not make these men into the monster they needed to be.  They will die human because of my mistakes, my failings¡­ Because I have known warmth, just as the Marshal had feared. Perhaps it¡¯s Pasche, Xena and Katarina who have killed us all as much as anything else¡­

    Could I have ever become this behemoth, loving Her Divine Majesty as I do? Could I have been her monster?

    Some of the soldiers are shaking and crying, others have simply gone entirely silent, but not a single one of them is praying now¡­ Maybe my warmth has killed them all, but perhaps it might offer them some solace before the end. "Soldiers... You have fought well. And bravely, and proudly, and with great skill. If this were a fair world, we would have won this fight five times over by now."

    Usually my words don''t seem to raise the troops'' heart rates above resting, but today they are paying attention, truly paying attention. It¡¯s an odd feeling, almost as if I¡¯ve been granted the chance to be an actual general for a moment, at the very end.

    "But the world is not always a fair place, and Steel is not always a fair God. Even as we fight like lions, the world sees fit to not reward our skill and our bravery. But not even defeat could take away the honor I have felt having folks such as you at my command, to be able to lead you in one last engagement. No capricious God can take away our pride!"

    This whole ¡®giving speeches¡¯ thing feels off, baring my heart to these people I barely know almost seems self-indulgent in a way... And yet, Isn''t that what my power is? Baring my heart to inspire others? If nothing else, the troops seem to be getting at least a little hyped up, having their achievements acknowledged.

    "And nothing can take away just how cowardly our enemy is, tearing through civilian homes, invading a nation that meant them no harm, using brute force to deny our rightful, righteous victory! I think we should give them a lesson in bravery, in pride! In what it means to be an Avernian Lion!"

    The bell tower behind me is struck with solid shot and collapses onto the Grove of Wool in the square, kicking up dust and crushing the sacred trees beneath it. Add blasphemy and desecration to the crimes the Coalition have committed here, even if it¡¯s a little hypocritical for me to condemn them for it.

    "To the firing positions, then. Let this beast regret believing that we would be easy prey! We shall give a punishment for every inch of ground they take, a bullet for every house they burn!"

    The men rush to their stations with an elan I''ve not seen from them before, not even under the influence of my magic. A more conscious kind of bravery, not courage-drunk but courage-filled all the same. Perhaps imminent death is simply a sobering thing. Either way the distinction makes all the difference when it comes to pouring shot upon the advancing enemy. Teutons and Germans collapse with every volley, clutching wounds and bleeding their last in a foreign land.

    But no amount of tragedy we can inflict deters this monster, and though every inch it takes is punished, this beast is a glutton for punishment. Soon it is at our fortifications, its sappers hacking them apart with axes and its grenadiers throwing explosives over them. The firing positions have to be abandoned, and the men can do little more than form a final line in the center of town, loading the last of their ammunition and fixing their bayonets. The last fortifications collapse, and the limbs of the monster surge as a tide of steel and flesh, an unstoppable force emerging from the smoke, baring its blood-stained fangs. One last volley, and then we charge. I charge among my men, there¡¯s nothing left for me to do but break my promises. I hope that Pasche is alive somewhere to be disappointed in me, that Lazierte lives to be disappointed in me, that Xena and Katarina will be fine, and forget about the stupid girl who made them play at war for just a moment.

    I hope that perhaps Her Majesty will learn of my actions, and shed a tear for the stupid girl who could not be her monster.

    Bullets tear into the men around me, I almost trip on a bleeding Avernian as he falls at my feet. Even over the report of the gunfire and the crackling of the spreading fire, I hear the man softly weeping where he fell upon the cobblestone street, clutching his wound. The second row of Coalition muskets take aim as we close the distance through the powder smoke of the last volley. It¡¯s blistering hot, and every step through the smoke is another step closer to suffocation... The Coalition¡¯s second-row fires; and while I cannot see the soldiers who had followed me, I know full well I am surrounded by their bodies. By the time I reach the bayonets of the Coalition, I feel completely alone. As far as I can see, I am the only one left.

    The faces I see can¡¯t disguise the presence of the beast, and I fire my pistol at the first ¡®man¡¯ who tries to skewer me. His eyes go wide as he drops his musket, clutching his wound pathetically¡­ I have not killed a beast, but I have certainly killed a man. Another ¡®man¡¯ stabs at me, his bayonet barely parried with my sword before I slash him across the chest, causing him to scream in pain. It¡­ It is just like a sacrifice to Steel, to Her Majesty. And while I have fought a beast, I have killed a man¡­

    The third attacker swings at me with their musket, a blow I duck under before running him through, feeling his blood upon my fingers as he goes limp atop me, the two of us falling upon the street together. He tries desperately, clumsily, to slide himself free of my blade, but only makes it halfway before he slips and falls upon me again, bleeding all the while¡­ As unworthy a god as he is, I make a final prayer to Steel to simply finish his meal and be done with it, to let this poor man finally die¡­ To let this hopeless girl finally die, alone in the smoke and cinders.

    "Alright lads, time to show the army how its done!"

    The Mayor? What the hell is he doing here? Before I can even begin to imagine what brought his voice here the powder smoke clears, and through the ranks of the Coalition beast I see it. Thousands, tens of thousands of men in civilian clothes with sickles, scythes, pitchforks, axes, and ancient-looking blunderbusses charging into the back of the beast, hitting them in the rear and drawing their focus. The mayor, the madman, he''s dragged more folks into this hell. He¡¯s become the head of his very own monster! ¡­

    And it might just save my life¡­ While the last stand of a few hundred Avernian soldiers was never going to be enough to stop the beast of the Coalition, it seems that suddenly being hacked apart by thousands of civilians is the final straw for them. Suddenly we are not facing an unstoppable, inexorable marching behemoth, but are instead seeing thousands of human beings, scared and desperate, finally cognizant of the death they are surrounded by. They are aware and eager to escape. They might even have had a chance, a hope dashed as Pasche appears in front of them, cavalry in tow, followed by whatever disparate and scattered troops she could find. Which happens to include Katarina and friends, who seem all too eager to get stuck in with their bayonets¡­

    The Coalition¡¯s troops are thrown into a blind panic, lashing out in all directions, eventually managing to carve a path through the civilians through which they can escape, scrambling over the bodies of their comrades and civilian victims alike to do so. The town square is utterly littered with the dead, and while Katarina''s band and the cavalry try to pursue further, it is simply too hard to do so with the town in the state it is in... This burning, bleeding town, whose inhabitants... Are cheering. Those amongst them who did not die are cheering in victory!

    ... The soldiers are cheering in victory too. Pasche and the cavalry, what little remains of the 101st and all the rest of them, cheering in victory.

    Cheering this butcher''s yard, this field of corpses. Cheering over the bodies of the civilians who died compensating for my mistakes, my failures. Mistakes that I now have to live with, thanks to their sacrifice... My heart feels sick. I can¡¯t take any more celebration.

    I hear hoofbeats approach, and soon feel the heavy corpse pinning me to the floor being pulled off of me and thrown aside. I see Pasche¡­ She is looking down at me, smiling madly, quickly falling to the ground herself to embrace me.

    ¡°We¡­ We won! We actually won! Serena, we did it! They¡¯re fleeing on every axis, they¡¯re utterly broken! And¡­ And you¡¯re okay!¡± She squeezes me tightly, tight enough for me to feel the new dents on her cuirass, evidence of blows she has taken in my service. ¡°They¡¯ll be talking about this victory forever! ¡­ And I¡¯m just so glad I got here in time.¡±

    I can¡¯t move my arms to embrace her. I can¡¯t do much of anything, the whole world seems just so very, very heavy. Pasche is cradling a corpse and she is smiling. I have left this town a corpse, and the soldiers and civilians alike are cheering.

    "General Pollineux!" The cries grow louder and louder somehow, as everyone shouts my praises in unison. "General Serena!"

    Please. Please don''t say my name. Not here. Not now.

 Chapter Seventeen

    The fires are quickly fought by townsfolk and soldier alike, the corpses are for the most part dragged out of the center of town¡­ And the town square is transformed into a riot of color and fineries, as the townsfolk hold a lavish celebration in honor of our ''victory''. The finest food the peasantry can provide to anyone short of the Gods themselves, wine held for generations in family basements just waiting for an opportunity to be used, all the luxury that rural peasants could muster are flowing freely to celebrate our struggle. Alsace must be a pretty boring place if they¡¯re willing to celebrate the death of their neighbors so eagerly... All of them smile and cheer, soldier and civilian alike, and everywhere an eye falls on me, I can feel their approval.

    And I can''t stand it.

    Today was not a victory, it was a disaster. And a disaster remains a disaster even if we live and the Coalition troops do not. My eyes catch Katerina and Xena amongst volunteers from the militia and army, assisting the faithful of Leather in burying the dead with seeds and preserving their heads. Katarina had been convinced, though it didn''t take much convincing, that those militia who had died for us did so as a sacrifice to Wool, and thus she and her followers treat them with full honors. A fruit orchard will be the legacy of my time in this town, a fruit orchard adorned with the heads of the townsfolk who died for me... Even though I am glad that the priests and priestesses of Leather showed some restraint as far as the men who saved us went, I am well aware that the Coalition¡¯s soldiers will not be so lucky, that the priests will be establishing a new ¡®commissary¡¯ somewhere out of the people¡¯s sight. Having that context, it distresses me just how many of the local children find the giant, red-mouthed bear woman to be fascinating. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s a clown in a costume, rather than a cannibal mercenary. Folk from Avernia really are all complete oddballs, no matter where in Avernia they come from¡­

    Eventually this misplaced revelry becomes more than I can stomach, and I make my way as far from the lights and cheers and people as I possibly can. In the darkened outskirts of town I find a sacred grove sitting on its lonesome, right near the riverbank. It was untouched by the fighting, it¡¯d have to be a very lucky cannonball that hit a grove so small from that distance...

    The Grove of Wool in town covers an entire four blocks, and yet this grove is barely the size of a house... This intrigues me, and since I can hear no noise and see no light from within, it feels like a welcome refuge for my apparently solitary misery. I walk into a gap in the trees, the grove is so humble that it does not have an arch or anything of that nature, so lacking in adornments that I can''t even tell which god this grove is dedicated to... Maybe I¡¯ve just stumbled into someone''s garden? I¡¯m concerned that I¡¯ll need to make some apologies after this... The inside is similarly humble, and while it has a sacrificial altar it is no larger than a household dinner table. But it is well-polished and maintained. The undecorated trees are healthy and thick, blocking out any view of the world outside them, and admittedly I¡¯m finding it a little peaceful to be in a sacred place that doesn''t have any severed heads about. And the grass of the grove is soft... Very soft. And inviting... I lower myself to the ground and lay on my back, hoping whichever God this grove venerated does not resent my intrusion. It¡¯s nice... I can be alone with my thoughts. I can escape the joy my failures have brought about-

    "Boo."

    My bones almost leap out of my skin as I hear a soft little whisper beside me, and I quickly turn my attention to its source... A woman in thin satin robes, a beautiful woman with piercing blue eyes and gorgeous blonde hair, who seems to radiate the very joy I¡¯m so desperate to avoid. A woman who lays next to me, having snuck up on me as if by magic. A woman who smiles at me, like so many others today... And takes my hand in hers, something I can''t say I deserve.

    "Umm... Mademoiselle. What are you doing?"

    I do not withdraw my hand from hers even as an inescapable feeling of dread bubbles up in me. I¡¯m far enough away from the town square that no one will hear me if I cry for help, and it has gotten dark enough that I doubt that my body would be found before morning if anything were to happen¡­

    "Hehe, mademoiselle... Look at the impiety you see before you. In a larger town, in a big city like Alesia, even in the camp of a modern army, the priests and priestesses of Velvet would be absolutely besieged by soldiers after a battle, looking to work off the adrenaline of the day. And yet, in sleepy little Alsace, this priestess finds herself all on her lonesome during a victory feast... And just as that priestess starts to feel left out, a general wanders into her grove, equally alone. And a cute general at that."

    "V... Velvet-"

    Before I can even begin to fathom the mistake I have made, my thoughts are cut off by the most beautiful pair of lips that have ever graced my own. Admittedly, they are also only the second pair of lips that have ever graced my own, and while Pasche is nice, this woman is downright divine... Her eyes are closed, utterly consumed by the act of melting against me. And to my shame, I melt back. She slips her tongue into my mouth and I simply allow it, another disgraceful retreat to tar my short history. I try desperately to fight against the sheer force of this woman''s warmth, her softness, her beautiful scent¡­ Is this how a Queen smells? Is this how it would feel to kiss Her Majesty?

    Would the Queen slip a hand into my uniform jacket like it belonged there?

    I manage to slip free from the priestess'' embrace at the thought of Her Majesty, and at the feeling of her hand against my chest. Seeing me withdraw from her leaves the priestess looking confused and crestfallen... It must be a sin to make a woman this beautiful look this sad, I don''t think I can bear to ever do so again. Mercifully, her confidence quickly returns to her as she reaches for me once more.

    "Ah, you must be worried about the tithe! Worry not, generals can expense visits to a grove of Velvet to the royal army, so long as that general wins victories. I''ll be sure to write you a receipt, don''t worry sweetling."

    That word again, victory... I can slip away no longer, I can¡¯t stand hearing about my ¡®victory¡¯ anymore "... Today was not a victory. It was a failure of mine that just happened to be a calamity for the enemy."

    She looks upon me curiously, still sidling herself closer to me in spite of my rigorous self-critique. "You''re alive enough for the two of us to share this moment... Need you be any more victorious than that?"

    "I failed¡­ I failed to be the monster that my soldiers and my country needed. I sent human beings into the maw of a beast and watched them all be slaughtered from my position high above in the bell tower. If the townsfolk had not been a monster all their own, who knows if we would be sharing this moment."

    "The townsfolk here are all proud followers of Wool; they remember the days of peasant levies and black death with tender fondness. They¡¯re already a little monstrous if you ask this priestess¡¯ humble opinion, I don''t think there''s any shame in having them die for you-"

    "There is shame in anyone dying for me! In them being shot for me, burned and choked for me, torn apart and eaten for me! So many people rely on me to keep them safe and to preserve their dignity, and every day I fail someone... Today I nearly failed everyone, and they dare call it a victory!" I realize a little too late that I¡¯m screaming, and in sheer embarrassment I curl up on the grass. "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to yell, I just-"

    "A general with principles, now I''ve seen everything.¡± She takes a moment to process this new possibility, before putting on another smile. ¡°I think I like you, madam."

    I blush, and blush deeper still as she tries to uncurl me by running her hand over my form. My body obeys, there is no saying no to that touch¡­

    "Madam... Hehe, I am not a madam, I am scarcely nineteen. I cannot claim to be wise or worthy of an elder''s respect."

    "... Nineteen? And a general?! I knew you had a young, pretty face but¡­ Nineteen?!¡± Her hand stops out of shock¡­ Pasche had a similar reaction to learning my age, didn¡¯t she?  ¡°... What possessed the crown to send such a beautiful flower into a war so young?"

    And like with Pasche I can only give the same old answer. "¡­ Her Majesty needed officers for the army, and I serve at her pleasure. Any rank she wishes me to be, any age she wishes me to be, I shall be. And without hesitation."

    "Her Majesty? That''s a fascinating little term, don''t you serve at the pleasure of the High King? His Majesty?"

    I curse myself under my breath, this woman is simply too close to me already for me to keep any secrets from her. "Oh! Right, yes... He sure is my sovereign, definitely... Technically."

    Even the defeat and horror of this battlefield can¡¯t draw as much venom out of me as having to acknowledge His Grace''s authority, or indeed existence... Her Majesty always looks so sad in his presence, so crestfallen. To bring so divine a beauty to such lows is abominable, and to force her to bear his children was unforgivable! I should be the one bringing her joy and having her bear my-

    I bite my tongue gently, hoping to get such Velvet thoughts off my mind.

    Not that my imaginings bother the priestess of Velvet in my midst, who giggles at my obvious scorn for the High King. "Hehe, it''s as if he''s slighted your own personal goddess! Careful, Velvet might get jealous with such devoted blasphemy from you."

    "Ah! I um, I had no intention of insulting the most beautiful of all the gods! I uh, I have very fond memories of spending days in her groves back home as a child, learning to sing and paint! At least, before it was decided I would be a soldier and not a debutante."

    "A loss for Velvet then, that so beautiful a maid was denied from her service."

    "You flatterer... Priestesses of Velvet are meant to be gorgeous, like yourself. Not mousey and plain."

    "Hey, a lot of effort went into this appearance of mine! You''d be surprised what appropriate care can do for a person''s appearance you know. When I was your age, I was a rather plain girl myself, I would have loved to be as pretty as you."

    "W... Well..." This is bad. My heartbeat is a marching drum, which compels me forward into her embrace again. "... How did you become a priestess of Velvet anyway? Especially in a place like this."

    I thought it would be a fairly normal question to ask, and yet it stops the Priestess dead in her tracks, in a way that physically hurts to behold¡­ Like I¡¯ve taken a beautiful woman and made her a corpse. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Not something I¡¯m typically asked.¡±

    I can¡¯t imagine the priests or priestesses of any other god being so cagey about what brought them into the priesthood. ¡°Really? You seem like a nice girl, it seems odd that no one at all would ask.¡±

    ¡°The Grove of Velvet is a place for strangers, people don¡¯t usually come here to make friends, General.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what this place was when I entered! ¡­ And it just happens to be the place where you are. And I think I want your company but I don¡¯t think I could bear lying with a stranger right now.¡±

    My slightly desperate squealing seems to bring the girl back to the land of the living¡­ And get almost as much venom out of her as the High King did out of me, though it doesn''t seem particularly directed my way. "And you¡¯re certain you want to hear this story? It''s hardly a beautiful thing, worthy of a Grove of Velvet, and you might have a lot more fun with a priestess than you would with bitter old Renee Arbour."

    "Arbour... An orphan."

    "Dropped off in The Grove of Wool in this very town, the only grove there was when I was born¡­" For a moment the priestess tries to force a smile again, before failing miserably and letting her true face slip through. "You know something? I''ve never liked animals. They''re dirty, they bite, and they are terrible conversationalists. What I did like were flowers, beautiful meadows, sunsets on the hill... Handsome young men and cute young maids... And I liked to paint and draw the things I found beautiful. Not exactly skills for a future goatherd, and kissing cute young maids was hardly the behavior of a future farmer''s wife. The village elders never liked me. And as the other kids grew up, they started to be more like their folks. They were too busy with their jobs and their animals to play with poor little Renee. I was all alone in town... And then the miracle happened! A Melusine took up residence in a nearby river and started drowning local farmers."

    "A miracle... In the form of a monster?" It seems an absurd concept, having just faced down a monster myself, and being found wanting¡­ And yet, it was a monster that saved me too, wasn¡¯t it?

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Renee certainly sees no contradiction, no issue with a monster being miraculous. "A beautiful monster with a beautiful voice, a consummate servant of Velvet. I had considered simply joining her in the river, but if I did that then I could not paint her magnificence. What followed was my finest piece, the best I''d ever made... And then the village elders got to talking and decided that the best way to stop their farmers from drowning was a sacrifice to Velvet, to beg her to make her servants leave their home...

    And who better to sacrifice than the loner girl that no one wanted to play with anymore? And thus old friends and former playmates came in the night to drag me kicking and screaming to the sacrificial pyre... But they got no screams from me, they didn''t even get a tear. Because I had my painting, my most beautiful work of art, and I would keep it with me till the end."

    "... Wait, the villagers tried to sacrifice you?!"

    "You can see why I''m not especially torn up that some of them died for you. Nonetheless, I was taken to the stake, the fire was lit, my legs were burned... And my painting caught... And when my painting burned, the fire ceased in an instant, and the Melusine left the next day. Velvet had accepted her sacrifice. Art of true beauty is a fair substitute for a human person, at least where the most beautiful of all the gods is concerned."

    "Thank goodness you were spared!¡±

    "Hehe, you''re kind... The townsfolk were not pleased that I had survived, they had no idea what to do about me now. After all, I had fulfilled my role as a sacrifice, and a person can only be sacrificed once, and that includes having their art accepted by Velvet. I was more of a pariah than ever, the townsfolk didn¡¯t want to see me because they did not want to remember what they had done... But I was no longer alone. Velvet had found my art beautiful and with that, I found my calling. And so I planted this grove in the ashes of the pyre, and the trees grew healthy and thick in no time at all. I took care of myself and became more beautiful. I learned to speak with confidence and poise rather than sincerity, and I set about doing as a priestess of Velvet does."

    "... Teaching children how to sing?"

    "Bless your sweet heart, general. I fucked strangers for tithes. Well, ''strangers'' and half the people of the town, not that those hypocrites would dare admit it. Always with my robes on, of course, no one much cares to see my burned legs, especially not the townsfolk."

    "Laying with strangers like me for tithes then..."

    "General, I have never met a stranger like you."

    I swallow hard, it¡¯s impossible not to be a bundle of nerves when she seems so genuine. "... Call me Serena. I would like to not be a stranger... May I call you Renee?"

    "... I think I would like that." The priestess... No, Renee''s smile is all the more radiant for being sincere. "Serena."

    "Renee... I would very much like to see your art."

    "Hehe, now you''re just showing off, you sweetheart! ¡­ You don''t need to keep trying to seduce me, I''m already yours."

    I turn my head away, realizing just how much of this woman I have pulled out of her role as a priestess... And just how much of that woman still wants to touch me. Even now, she presses herself against me, determined to melt into me again.

    And her hand graces my cheek, guiding me to face her once more. "Your eyes are beautiful, Serena. Please let me look at them just a little longer."

    There¡¯s no escape from this moment, she has utterly enchanted me. If her devious mind could be turned to strategic warfare rather than making me blush, she could be a general to rival my brother! ... As things stood, I¡¯m more scared of her for being so powerful at this. Powerful enough to draw my lips back to hers, under my own initiative... Mine brush against hers, for a single, simple moment... And then I completely chicken out, recoiling in useless hesitation.

    Which brings Renee no small amount of laughter, beautiful laughter but hardly what I¡¯m craving from her. "Hehehe! Oh, you are an odd one, Serena. Here, a priestess of the ''having no-strings-attached sex with strangers'' goddess is utterly enthralled by you... And you can barely bring yourself to kiss her!"

    I pout as hard as I am able, but seeing her amused softens my embarrassment at least a little. "Well, it''s not like I''ve ever... You know, done this with anyone before."

    "Wait, you haven''t? At nineteen?! ... Just who are you, Serena? How did someone so... You¡­ End up in my grove?"

    This isn''t contempt, this is genuine curiosity, and possibly a little bit of awe. It¡¯s admittedly a slightly pathetic little admission on my part, and yet, she¡¯s so accepting of it, so interested. And... Did anyone really know me? Know me fully? My officers don¡¯t know that I¡¯m a sad, horrified mess in the aftermath of this ''victory'', Her Majesty barely knows I exist, my own family don''t know about my... Proclivity for the fairer sex... Does anyone know me fully? ... Would anyone be as accepting as this woman, who I barely know and yet has me in her arms like this¡­

    "I... I was born to a noble family, on the island of Kerska in the Carthaginian Sea, the youngest of five siblings. My eldest brother had become quite the prominent general, and the rest of us were to do as non-inheriting nobles do, get married off. At least, until it was learned I was a witch. The Queen had called a muster of all witches in the country, she wanted them to use their powers for the good of the High Kingdom, and how better to have them do that than to have them join the army? At first, I was relieved. I could be spared a boring life as some man''s ornament, some ¡®thing¡¯ in his possession. But now... I know the truth. I know the thing I was meant to be, what I failed to be, the pitiless beast that Avernia demands of me¡­ I almost wish I was able to take it all back, to not be damned to become this thing."

    "But you can''t? ... Why not?"

    "... I made an oath to my Queen. I swore my fealty, my eternal loyalty, my body and all it does to her. She was the brightest light of my years at the Academy, her portraits on the wall, her occasional visits... The way she always had a smile for me, even when her abhorrent husband was in attendance... She was sold to a man, much as I might''ve been, it''s not fair... And that is why I cannot go home. Because she might need me, even if only in the smallest capacity."

    "You love her."

    "... I once had the foolish dream that she might take my first time... A stupid fantasy of mine, but one which kept me warm on some cold nights..."

    My cheeks are as red as an Icenian banner, laying in a beautiful grove with a beautiful woman, talking about my masturbatory fantasies like the teenager I¡¯m obliged not to be. I must be the most shameless girl in all Avernia and among the most stupid.

    "I see... Serena, could you close your eyes?"

    I obey without thinking, as if doing as she asks will make my licentiousness disappear from the world.

    I don''t have time to wonder why she asked this of me, suddenly the two of us are rolling together, and I realize I am now on my back with her atop me, her grin palpable even as it is unseen. "Now, what else does this humble subject wish her Queen would command her to do? What does she dream Her Majesty would take from her?"

    "I- Renee-"

    "Hush now, my darling supplicant. And don''t you dare open those eyes... Your Majesty commands."

    ¡­ Nothing about this is okay, and under the influence of that Velvet voice nothing needs to be.

    "... I have dreamed that she had commanded me to undress-"

    "Strip for Your Majesty, General Dearest."

    I obey the words, the warmth, the scent, the fantasy above me, all worthy of a queen... I slip sheepishly out of my uniform jacket and get to the task of undoing the buttons of my officer''s dress. "Ah ah, slowly, pet. Allow your sovereign to savor this."

    I must be the least cool and composed person that this priestess... That Renee... That Her Fantastic Majesty has ever lain with. I audibly swallow as I work my buttons slower, gradually revealing the uninspiring underthings beneath. No amount of prayer could make them impressive... And yet the breathing above me quickens as Renee gets a view of them, certainly savoring the sight.

    "Now this... Hehehe, removing this is a royal privilege."

    "Y... Yes, Your Majesty!"

    The second her hand touches my bare skin I squeal, and every inch of me remains tense as she undoes my brassiere with masterful hands. My mind drifts to the real queen for a moment, only a moment, as I wonder if she too is so masterful, so experienced... To my shame, I hope so. I hope she knows exactly what to do with a devoted supplicant like myself.

    "What can Her Majesty take from you now, I wonder... What can she-"

    "My chest! I... Please, I would love for Her Majesty to- Ahhhh!"

    I feel those beautiful lips again, now against the supple and vulnerable flesh of my breasts. This alone would be enough to make every nerve ending in my body stand to attention, but when followed by her teeth? I squeal again, I squeal so loud that I must be drowning out the festivities in the town square. So loud that fleeing Germans and dead Teutons, and the carcass of their behemoth must be able to hear it... It¡¯s a blissful eternity until those teeth let my flesh free, and her mouth slips upwards to grace my ear¡­

    "Branded property of the Queen. All will know that you are mine, that you have been taken by me."

    The words make a wondrous, dangerous thing in me snap, and I roll the two of us over again, finding myself atop Renee, finding myself hungry... She squeals delightfully and I know I want more, need more of that sound... It¡¯s irresistible, utterly entrancing... And almost enough to distract me from the fact that I have no idea what I¡¯m going to do up here! I shake, overcome with my own inexperience catching up to me as I open my eyes and plead with the woman beneath me.

    "Renee... What do I do?!"

    At the sound of her name, the breaking of the fantasy and return to reality, she looks almost about to shed a tear. "... Serena. Take off my robes. I want you to see everything."

    Tears of joy, something wondrous and dangerous snapping in her as well. The removal of Renee''s robes is a lot more violent and destructive than I had hoped, my hands simply refuse to show the caution my head will them to act with. Soon Renee is naked in a pile of thin cloth, and very happy for it. She doesn''t even wear underthings, her skin is entirely exposed before me... Even the burned skin of her legs, red in spots and slightly disfigured. The sight is simply intoxicating, exhilarating, and her joy is simply irresistible. I can''t stop myself from kissing her. I can''t stop my tongue from entering her mouth. I can''t help but try to mimic whatever amazing thing she is doing with her hand between my legs, fingers slipped into my underwear. My touch is probably clumsy, but it is enthusiastic... And warm... And wet... So delightfully wet.

    Her lips move away from mine as she looks into my eyes again, her hand not stopping for even an instant. "I wish I could paint this moment... It would be the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever painted."

    I smile down upon her even as I feel tension build inside me, twisting and aching "... I''ll... Always remember us being this beautiful together."

    "You charmer."

    She grins as she curls her fingers inside me with confident mischief. And with that, I am unwound... My entire body goes limp atop her, all the air in my lungs escapes me in one beautiful instant and I give shallow, hungry breaths as I try to get any of it back. I can''t move even an inch of my body, any semblance of control I have ever had evaporates in a single moment. I am as torn apart as her vestments, but infinitely more joyful... Renee leans up to gently kiss my nose, an arm wrapping around my body to hold me close, to hold me warmly. I always thought I was no stranger to orgasms, given my many nights with my hand in Lazierte¡¯s and my eyes cast at the portrait of the Queen I was under the impression I was used to them by now. But touching someone like this, touching a beautiful person like Renee... It¡¯s so much more warm, and vulnerable, and awkward, and just a little bit frightening. And I would not give up any of those feelings for the world, because I get to feel them with her... Is Renee feeling the same? Have I brought her to this state of bliss? Weakly, I start moving my fingers between her legs again, at least until she stops me with her hand.

    "Hey now, your first time is something special. Bask in it, my sweetheart."

    "Hehe... Was your first time this magical?"

    "... Depends how magical we''re talking-"

    "Pretty fucking magical!" I am utterly shocked as the word escapes my lips, and I reach up with my dry hand to cover my mouth. "I- Forgive my language, mademoiselle..."

    She kisses my forehead in response and giggles sweeter than any sugar. "You are simply too cute to be in a grove like mine... My first time was not nearly this magical, but my third time... Came close to halfway."

    "... Did they make you orgasm?"

    "Yes. But she didn''t say my name. She didn¡¯t care about my art. She didn''t see my legs."

    "They''re beautiful, just as you are beautiful."

    "That''s second-round talk right there! You''d best be careful..."

    "... Would umm... Would that get added to the receipt? Because I uhh... I would like to, even if I feel like my brother would never let me hear the end of it."

    "Hehehe¡­¡± Renee¡¯s eyes drift down to the scraps strewn across the grove, the ones that had been her robes. ¡°Luckily for you, you didn''t fuck a priestess of Velvet tonight... You had sex with Renee Arbour, a lonely farm girl from a small border town... I''ll do you a blasphemy and not charge a thing."

    "... You''d slight your goddess, for me?"

    "You slept with someone besides your gorgeous queen, I feel I owe you this at least."

    She has a point, I am just as blasphemous as her¡­ And yet¡­ "... Do you... Maybe want to ¡®owe¡¯ me a second time, Renee?"

    She beams, drawing in closer to me, laying a gentle kiss upon my ear. "Hehe... Only if it would please you, Serena."

 Chapter Eighteen

    There are seven more blasphemies before dawn, and a further eighth before I am satisfied, finally passing out in Renee''s warm embrace. It was, I must confess, ''pretty fucking magical'', even if I wonder how I picked up such language. I used to be such a good girl too, and now it seems like I am a dedicated defiler of the divine dogma... Maybe that''s why things go so wrong for me, maybe my wrongness is yet another thing causing issues for the whole army.

    ... But it feels so right... Which means there must be some good reason why it¡¯s not really blasphemy against Her Majesty. Blasphemy shouldn¡¯t feel this good after all, shouldn¡¯t feel this correct, which means that, just like with Pasche, I clearly didn¡¯t blaspheme! ¡­ Even if this is practically a textbook example of something I should only be doing with Her Majesty, and thus should be content to never do at all¡­ There has to be a reason why this is okay. There has to be a reason.

    As I wake I feel the Sun''s warmth bearing down on me, reminding me very much of my native Kerska. I find myself wrapped in a lovely blanket¡­ A nice gesture, one which preserves my modesty a bit, and yet I can''t help but be a little confused. I thought I¡¯d wake up wrapped in Renee, and yet she¡¯s nowhere to be seen¡­ Given the position of the Sun in the sky, it¡¯s mid-afternoon at the earliest, and I must¡¯ve slept the better part of the day away. Plenty of time for a woman to go walkabout... I should simply accept that she left me in my sleep, and yet I can¡¯t help but get to my feet and search the grove for any sign of her and where she went. After all, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have been able to sleep that night without her¡­ I thought I¡¯d made a new friend.

    I quickly find something that wasn¡¯t here the night before, a painted canvas lying on the altar in the grove. And on that canvas is a painting of a sleeping girl, with mousey black hair and a Carthaginian skin tone. It''s... Me. And in spite of my plainness, my unremarkability, she has made me look beautiful, depicting me in a field of white flowers, errant petals covering certain... Awkward parts of my anatomy. Renee knows what she¡¯s doing, not simply finding and depicting beauty, but making it.

    "Was... Was this a gift? Or should I leave it here, or... I have no idea what to do with this."

    I stare at the painting, trying to figure out what it means for it to be here and for Renee to be missing.

    I stare so long that I don''t even notice Pasche entering the grove until she¡¯s already sharing the space with me. "Oh, thank the gods, there you are, we''ve been looking- AAAH!"

    Oh right. I¡¯m naked, aren''t I?

    I tilt my head lazily Paschewards, I am still far too sleepy for this. "We''ve shared a bath together, mademoiselle Pasche. How are you this-"

    "Th... This is different! ... Your hair is a mess, Serena, and you look... Genuinely, actually relaxed." Her voice is rather small, like every word is effort and every bit of power behind it was agony. "I... Um... I''m here to give my report on the battle, but I can wait until you are dressed, General!"

    "... Did you see a beautiful blonde woman on your way here, Pasche?"

    "I can''t say I did, General-"

    "Serena, please."

    "I can''t say I did, Serena."

    It¡¯s a silly hope to hold, but I have to ask. It seems Renee is just gone, and it¡¯s time for me to be the Steel kind of grown-up again. I look around for my scattered clothing, not much bothered by Pasche''s eyes. She¡¯s my second best friend after all, it seems reasonable to me for this to be normal, even if she doesn''t seem to understand it.

    "Give your report then, Pasche."

    "S... Serena-"

    "Your report?"

    "R... Right!" She seems to be trying her absolute hardest to look at anything but me, does she maybe not think we''re best friends like I do? "S... So! Xena, Katarina, and the priests are still hard at work. We''ve counted almost 20,000 Coalition dead already, and there are still many bodies to go¡­ Even working through the night with Xena¡¯s chemical solution, there¡¯s probably still a lot left to count and¡­ Process.¡±

    I really don''t want to start any morning discussing the number of bodies I am responsible for, least of all this one. "There certainly did seem to be a lot of them..."

    "Best estimates put the enemy force at over 40,000, outnumbering us at least twice over. The Coalition losing the initiative here really is a fantastic accomplishment, one that should keep Avernia safe until reinforcements arrive at the very least. It was a frankly stunning victory."

    "Please don''t-" I bite my tongue, the word ¡®victory¡¯ remains as unbearably bitter as it was the night before. "Please don''t give me hagiography. Just the numbers and the situation, Pasche, I beg you."

    Pasche hesitates for a moment, her voice becoming even smaller somehow as she tries to excise the praise for my ''victory'' from her tone. "We have about four thousand battle-ready troops, another two thousand walking wounded, eight thousand in the field hospital, of which we believe our medical staff can save about two thousand... And six thousand dead in battle, including the entire 68th regiment holding the hill on the left flank."

    To the last man and the last heartbeat, my chest hurts when I remember what I had them do up there. "And the cavalry?"

    "Of the about two thousand we had, about one thousand are battle ready, about four hundred in the hospital, about six hundred dead."

    "And the civilians?"

    "... About four thousand in hospital, about two thousand dead... And many in the hospital, including the mayor, refuse to be treated by our priestesses of Cotton. Which works out I suppose, our support staff is too busy with army regulars anyway. The best they can get is to die in relative comfort, Xena''s produced some other ''chemical solutions'' for those less likely to recover."

    "... Steel is a hungry god, isn''t he?"

    "That he is, Serena. That he is..."

    Part of me knows I am too tired to cry about the sheer scale of death in the wake of my ''victory'', but I want to return to sleep and mourning.

    And I can do that, once I get the answer to one more question. "And the Icenians. Have we seen any sign of them?"

    "Not a sight of red banners, not a hint of the Stag''s Head anywhere in Avernian territory. I suppose the Teutons marched ahead of their Icenian allies and got separated from them."

    "Thank the gods for that small mercy I suppose... I''ll need to organize the men, prepare for a possible Icenian attack when they arrive, rebuild the fortifications, build more traps-"

    "Please put your dress on first, Serena!"

    I look down to see my various articles of clothing in my hands, which I have utterly failed to even begin to put on. Pasche is entirely correct, even if I feel something of a reluctance to dress that I don''t fully understand. As if, the moment I put on the officer''s dress again, my night with Renee will be truly and completely over... But hesitation gets you killed, so I begin to put on my underthings.

    "So... Serena... You mentioned a beautiful blonde woman. Did... Did uh..." Pasche is stammering, I¡¯m sure I''d find it cute any morning other than this one.

    "She left me all alone with only a blanket and a portrait for company...¡± It¡¯s beginning to sting in honesty, being faced with her absence. ¡°If she hadn¡¯t been so wonderful I''d probably be less upset."

    "Oh... Wait, portrait?"

    Pasche finally notices the painted canvas upon the altar, and she immediately averts her eyes, covering her mouth. I personally think it¡¯s a nice painting, why¡¯s she having such a violent reaction to it? Maybe Pasche just has weird taste in art¡­

    "General Pollineux!" A voice I''ve not heard in almost a month, a fellow student of the Military Academy, someone else I don''t know well... The woman behind that voice is entering the grove where I am still getting dressed. "We have been looking everywhere for you- ..."

    Stolen story; please report.

    I stare at my comrade witch, who stares back with a sense of clear confusion at finding me in such a state. "... Please tell me you''re with an Avernian relief army to reinforce us here."

    "I am with an Avernian relief army here to reinforce the Army of the East. They''re still on the road, I was sent an urgent message via the message witch to ride ahead." She takes one final look around, it finally occurring to her where she has found me. "... I hope you got a receipt, General Pollineux-"

    "Serena, please!"

    The comrade witch pinches the bridge of her nose, it seems she has something of a problem with me beyond the ¡®me being half-naked¡¯ thing. "If this were a social call then I would happily call you Serena, but I''m afraid this isn''t that..."

    This raises an eyebrow from me and almost raises a fist from Pasche, who moves between myself and the comrade witch, as if trying to act as a human privacy curtain. "Then what kind of call is this, whoever you are? My girl- My General has received too much bad news this morning as it is."

    "I''m afraid that there''s no such thing as too much bad news... General Pollineux, the Convention of Humanity has voted to recall you from the Army of the East in light of your shameful withdrawal in the Battle of Canstatt."

    "... Th- That happened two nights ago, how did you-"

    "Testimony from General Malmo was-"

    "But Malmo is dead!"

    "Not nearly as dead as I imagine you would like, General. Abandoning him on the field of battle to flee with the bulk of the army, according to his account of things-"

    "We were going to be surrounded, I was saving the army! He offered to stay behind and cover our retreat¡­ How did he even get back to Alesia fast enough to report this?!"

    "I am not the one you need to argue your case with... Serena." The comrade witch relents just a little bit, and I soon realize that I¡¯ve been screaming. "You will need to return to the capital and report to The Convention and The Royal Family. Both of them have publicly condemned your retreat."

    "... Even the Queen-"

    "Even Her Grace."

    I feel light-headed all of a sudden, like I might pass out onto the altar and simply die there. Here I am, doing only the best I can, and now... I know for a fact that I have upset Her Majesty. My own personal goddess¡­ Is this because I blasphemed against her in this Grove? Did I do wrong? This is when the tears start, maybe I¡¯m inured to the deaths of tens of thousands, but the ire of the Queen? There is simply nothing in me that could resist that pain... This day can¡¯t possibly be worse-

    "Little Plain General Girl of Avernia!" ... Avernian, but accented with Icenian, another woman is entering the grove from the other end... An enemy.

    I turn to face this newcomer, a blonde, svelte young woman wearing an Icenian dragoon uniform and a seemingly permanent scowl. Her face is well suited for it, I don¡¯t think anything else would fit her severe features.

    Slung across her back is a cavalry carbine, on her hip is a sword, and on a bandolier on her chest there are three different pistols. This woman is a walking arsenal, and now she is in this grove with us three Avernians... While I am so unarmed that I am literally half-naked.

    It¡¯s all I can do to try to stop my tears in the face of this newcomer and try instead to match her ire. "Lapdog of the Coalition. What are you doing here?"

    Pasche shifts herself over to form her little privacy curtain between me and this Icenian, this time infuriatingly acting as a human shield. Her hand is on the hilt of her saber, ready to draw it at a moment''s notice and escalate things.

    But the Icenian isn¡¯t interested in escalation, she instead produces a letter from one of her jacket pockets, trying to hand it to me through Pasche. "My mistress, Anastasia Delphine, would like to present you this letter to congratulate you on your victory. Gods only know why she would bother showing an Avernian such respect, but my mistress'' commands are absolute. She let me know I would find you in this grove."

    I reach over Pasche''s shoulder to accept the letter, a rather fancy thing with a seal and everything... But the letter doesn''t interest me as much as the Icenian''s last statement. "How did she know I was going to be here? No one saw me come here, no one knew I''d be in a Grove of Velvet! The only one who could have told her was Renee and... And I pray she didn''t."

    The Icenian looks about ready to spit on me in sheer disgust for my speculations. "Do not dare imply my mistress is so base and rakish as to employ spies! She has her own methods, ones you would not even begin to understand the elegance of! You will apologize to my mistress at once!"

    Pasche meanwhile looks about ready to forgo her sword entirely and punch the Icenian in the face. "Hey! You will treat my girl with respect, or I will fuck you up!"

    "Such vulgarity! Are all Avernians like this or has the Plain Little General Girl taught you bad habits?"

    "Those are fighting words, you frosty bitch!"

    "Avernian sow."

    "Your mistress is a coward, sending a letter instead of an army. She knows Serena would send her packing home to that cold shithole you call a country!"

    "How dare you?!"

    ¡°Don¡¯t like it? Come over here and shut me up then!¡±

    ¡°Gladly!¡±

    The Icenian slips off her jacket with all its guns, sliding her carbine free to let it fall and join them, and then leaps at Pasche with her fist raised. Pasche, apparently feeling sporting, slips her gloves off to fight this Icenian bare-knuckle, and soon the two are grappling in the grove of the goddess of beauty and absent priestesses. And I simply can''t deal with this, it¡¯s one indignity too many. I quickly put on my dress and turned my attention to my comrade witch, trying to avoid looking at the catfight on the ground behind me.

    "... So, if I''m being recalled, who is going to command the Army of the East? Malmo?"

    "No, he has requested leave, he took some minor injuries in the Battle of Canstatt and wishes to recuperate at home in Alesia... It''s going to fall to me to pick up the pieces you''ve left behind."

    "You? ... The army is asking a lot of us comrade witches."

    "It''s merely asking for loyalty to the crown, competence is something we have to want for ourselves. Still, I suppose I have you to thank for leaving me something resembling an army to work with if nothing else. I don¡¯t know if I should tell you this, but my own troops aren¡¯t all that substantial in number."

    I try to ignore the sounds of someone being choked behind me, those two are still at it. "I''ll make sure they know who the new commander is then. And I''ll leave you with some of my brother''s dispatches, they might be good reading... You''ll be expected to learn a lot on the job here."

    "... I expected you to be more displeased that I was taking over your command."

    "Oh, don''t get me wrong, I''m incredibly upset. It''s just that upset is overshadowed by-"

    "Your impending castigation?"

    "Having disappointed the Queen."

    "... Maybe less than you might think¡­ You might want to get that... Officer? Bodyguard?"

    "Second best friend."

    "You might want to get your new sapphic off the floor and prepare to return to the capital. It¡¯ll reflect better on you if you are punctual."

    "My punishment for my retreat to Avernian territory is to be sent deeper into Avernian territory. Isn''t the world a stupid place?"

    "I guess it expects us to become stupid enough to understand it."

    I give the woman a nod before turning my attention back to Pasche and the stranger, who seem to have tired each other out, laying on the grove floor together and panting.

    And whispering amongst themselves, Pasche managing a little power in her voice for having gotten a good fight. "You''re good. I bet your mistress is happy to have you."

    "And I can tell that, whatever else you are, you are almost as dedicated to your General as I am to Mistress Delphine. There was devotion in that chokehold."

    "And love in that punch you gave me... I think we''re quite alike, Mademoiselle Siobhan."

    "Certainly alike enough that us hating one another was inevitable, Miss Pasche."

    "Here''s hoping we hate each other forever then."

    There¡¯s an odd look to Pasche''s eyes, and that of the stranger, this apparent Siobhan. Dear gods, I recognize those eyes, she gave me similar eyes back at the castle after she was shot! I quickly kick Pasche in the back, I couldn¡¯t handle it if she and the Icenian started kissing.

    This manages to shake Pasche out of whatever moment she and the Icenian are sharing on the floor, and she gets to her feet with obvious difficulty and exhaustion. She tries to offer the Icenian a hand up, but I won¡¯t allow it, and instead I take Pasche¡¯s offered hand in mine. Siobhan can get herself to her feet... Which she does, before reclaiming her jacket and carbine, and making her leave.

    But not before a parting comment. "My mistress expects great things from you, Miss Plain General Girl. She wants someone with a little fight in them to be her greatest rival."

    "Rival? I barely know who this woman is, why would I care?"

    One last sneer from the Icenian was the only answer I got before she made her leave, ending at least one of the headaches this morning had given me. The comrade witch sighs in relief, while Pasche tries her best to look presentable, her attention back on her fellow Avernians.

    She gives the Comrade Witch a look, looking like she¡¯s about to fight someone else for my honor, possibly with the gloves on this time. "So, remind me again, who precisely is this woman? This woman who dares accuse you of cowardice for saving Avernia."

    I give Pasche a gentle pat on the shoulder, certain that the next part is probably going to hurt her as much as everything this morning has hurt me. "She''s your new boss, Pasche. She is now commander of the Army of the East."

 Bonus Chapter: One

    Of course I was going to be punished. Of course I was, I had strayed. It was a beautiful moment of blasphemy and folly, and now my goddess had to make it hurt so I would never stray again. She was so kind to take me back, so kind to accept me in spite of my failure, so obviously this punishment must be a kindness too... Right?

    My Divine Punishment has to be a kind thing... Right?

    "Uhhh, Renee? Lutice is calling you." My Divine Punishment speaks in a sing-songy voice, one which makes every cell in my body flare with a hatred I thought had died months ago. "There''s a paying customer here. Shouldn''t you be, y''know, attending to them?"

    I take a deep breath, this pain is the price I have to pay for having been Renee Arbour again for those beautiful, glorious hours. I must endure My Divine Punishment, and I must endure it with something approaching a smile.

    "Of course. I apologize for the delay, mademoiselle. Please put the full tithe upon the altar and we can get started. Full tithe. Up front. No refunds." ... Well, my expression certainly approaches a smile.

    "Full tithe? You couldn''t do an old friend a favor and give her a discount?" She leans in, her faux begging is a pair of dancing knives upon my nerves. "She''d do the same for you, y''know."

    "Everyone is a stranger in the Grove of Velvet, that''s the whole point. Full tithes for everyone, because everyone is equally a stranger." I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose, or to punch My Divine Punishment right in her stupid, beautiful, stupid face.

    "Ah, but some of us aren''t, are we? Hehe, why, a certain Kerskan general wasn''t much of a stranger to you at all, and she got a freebie from what I heard!" Her smirk makes me realize she knows she''s not getting this service any cheaper, that she¡¯s simply enjoying making me suffer.

    ... Where did she hear about my blasphemy? "... Renee Arbor committed the sin of making love with a certain Serena Pollineux in this grove, yes. But the Priestess of Velvet in Alsace is a devoted supplicant, and devoted supplicants charge the full fare."

    "And if I wanted to make love to Renee Arbor, rather than fuck a priestess of Velvet?"

    "Then dream of the past, because that''s where you''ll find her." I can¡¯t resist my venom any longer, practically spitting my retort¡­

    Her faux pout betrays amusement more than it does any genuine disappointment. "Boo... Alright, I''ll get you your money... I''m sorry, get your goddess her money."

    ... Boo... I did steal that little verbal tic from her, didn''t I? ... Renee Arbor stole that little verbal tic from her, I merely inherited it from a dead girl. I watch as My Divine Punishment counts out every coin, placing them upon the altar painfully slowly, as if challenging me to stop this tragedy from unfolding. But I can''t stop this. Renee Arbor, she would stop this, but I have chosen Velvet, my goddess, and her servant has no business stopping a perfectly normal transaction with a random stranger. The final coin is placed upon the altar, and My Divine Punishment looks almost disappointed.

    "... So, we''re doing this?"

    I step forward, there¡¯s no point in talking anymore. I simply have to get through this and I can finally be Velvet''s again without difficulty, without pain, without punishment. I start to undo the buttons on My Divine Punishment''s dress... Soft wool, green with yellow ribbons... I once believed her dresses were the most beautiful in all the world.

    "Look at you with the enthusiasm. Not even slowing down to savor it, you''re so unlike the Renee I knew." More taunting, if she thinks she can get a rise out of me like this then she has another thing coming.

    I work the buttons all the way down her form, resisting the urge to tear one off out of spite. Priestesses of Velvet have no need for spite, it would be blasphemy for me to express the anger of Renee Arbor.

    "Were you like this with all your other playmates, all business? Hehe, it''s like you''ve forgotten how to make a girl feel special, like she stands out from amongst all your other paramours." She doesn''t seem in the least bit pleased that I am undressing her... Which seems odd, she did just pay to fuck a priestess of Velvet, why is she so disinterested?

    I remove the last of her buttons and slide her dress off her form, which she lazily allows me to do. She now stands in the grove of my goddess in just her underthings... Pink, just a little salacious, a little risqu¨¦. Not something she''d have worn back in the day. These are something new. And... Something that fails to excite me nearly as much as Serena''s undyed cotton underthings did.

    Putting lingerie on a corpse doesn''t make it stimulating.

    "But really, none of us were particularly special, were we? Not to the wild child, the one who flitted from person to person like it was nothing, who kept entire books full of sketches, little paintings of us all. All of us playmates exactly the same."

    I feel a cold sweat, paired with the sudden compulsion to strangle My Divine Punishment in the middle of the grove, to stuff her mouth with her coins and choke her on them. To hurt her like she is hurting me... But she¡¯s hurting Renee Arbor, the girl I am divinely obliged not to be. I remove her brassiere and dutifully place my hand upon one of her breasts, softly kneading it as I have learned to do. Maybe if I get started in earnest then Her Divine Punishment will finally be quiet.

    "You would have invited anyone to run away with you. I was just the last option you had left-"

    "Will you shut the fuck up?!" ... I am screaming.

    Priestesses of Velvet have no need for screams, Renee Arbor is screaming¡­

    And My Divine Punishment smiles a cruel little smile at Renee Arbor''s little outburst. "Make me."

    "I''m trying!" I focus my attention on my duty as a priestess, on performing my role.

    "Kiss me."

    ... What did she just say? What the hell did she just demand of me?!

    "I''m not going to kiss you!"

    "Why not? I paid good money, didn''t I?"

    "For me to fuck you, yes! But not for me to kiss you!"

    "How much then? I have a very full purse; I''ll pay whatever tithe your little goddess demands."

    "There is not enough gold to make enough coins on the surface of Lutice! There is not enough paper or ink to write a banknote that expresses the sheer amount of money it would take for you to make Velvet make me kiss you!"

    "Well then I''ll just have to keep talking, won''t I?!"

    I look down, my hands have recoiled from My Divine Punishment''s form, they are by my sides and they are shaking... My Divine Punishment is shaking too, she isn¡¯t enjoying herself anymore.

    "... He wasn''t much, he certainly wasn''t you. But at least he was mine-"

    I kiss her... Renee Arbour kisses My Divine Punishment. Denise Bellamy kisses me right back, tasting just as she did back then. And now my hands are upon her again, all the while Denise''s arms hold me tightly. She guides me to the floor of the grove, not letting up for a second as she lays me upon the soft grass of the Grove of Velvet. And now securely atop me, she slips away for just a second to smile.

    "Gods know I missed that."

    But I¡¯m not smiling... I¡¯m bitter old Renee Arbor again. "And all you had to do was pay out the nose for a tithe and then torture a poor priestess just trying to do her job."

    "I''d pay that tithe any time. And I couldn''t care less about any priestess, I care about you."

    "You sure have a funny way of showing it..." I run a finger over her back, wondering if perhaps I can push Renee back into the grave by performing my role... Which I soon found is impossible. "So how is William anyway? Does he even care you''re out fucking someone else?"

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "I''d be concerned if he was, seeing as how he''s dead as my dear dad is. Both of them died in that ''Battle of Alsace'' that your new friend put us through." Denise giggles rather bitterly, clearly having a little bit of venom all her own, even as she runs a finger over my chest. "Isn''t it funny, that girl who finally ''made love'' to Renee Arbor, who made love to you, just so happened to kill my entire family. It''s a weird world we live in, isn''t it?"

    "... I''m sorry for your loss."

    "No, you''re fucking not." Denise is giggling, but I can sense something desperate in it, something in need of rescue.

    She¡¯s right of course. I have absolutely no sympathy for either the dead Mayor or Denise¡¯s dead husband. I¡¯m not even entirely certain I have sympathy for her, merely some residual desire to touch her from long ago. One which, like Renee Arbor, simply will not die no matter how much it¡¯s killed. Even as I know I can¡¯t perform my role as priestess, my hands keep moving... Renee Arbor''s hands keep moving over Denise''s skin, remembering just what spots will make her squeal...

    I¡¯m doing it again. I¡¯m being blasphemous again; I am Renee Arbor again.

    And now Velvet can¡¯t protect me from the pain that brought me into her service. "... I''m not, you''re right... Were you ever sorry for mine?"

    Denise seems confused, both appreciating my touch and yet having clearly lost control of the situation, unable to answer that question. "W... What do you mean?"

    "Where do I even start?" The venom in my voice is slowly allowing itself to become anger saturating my tone, even if not my hands. "The loss of my best friend, the loss of my last love, the loss of the skin on my legs?! The loss of Renee Arbor... Were you ever sorry for these things?!"

    "... You''re crying."

    ... She¡¯s right. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Priestesses of Velvet have no use for tears, I am beyond redemption now. My hands finally stop, my body shakes, Renee Arbor can never go back to being a dead girl. Renee Arbor once again has to be me, the still living girl who nevertheless was murdered. And who is still in pain, even almost a year later.

    Denise above me doesn''t know how to respond to my sudden breaking down, remaining utterly silent, until finally muttering... "... Well, let''s see them then."

    "S... See what?" I look up at her, but getting a good picture of her is hard through the tears.

    "Your legs. If I''m responsible for it, then I should take responsibility."

    ... I slowly, shakily, pull up my robe, exposing the burned flesh of my legs to the world. Priestesses of Velvet are supposed to be physical perfection, no one wants to see a priestess'' burned, red, partially melted legs... Denise genuinely wants to see Renee Arbor again. She slides down my form, there is no more smiling, no more taunting, no more cruelty. She kisses my legs tenderly... If I were a masochist, I¡¯d describe it as ''lovingly''.

    "Denise... What are you doing?"

    "Oh, you do remember my name." There¡¯s a chuckle there, but it¡¯s all business, and is only a brief interlude between rounds of lavishly serving my legs. "I''m kissing them better, obviously."

    ... I burst out laughing. I can''t help it, not only is that the most ''Denise'' thing I have ever heard, she says it with such dispassionate sincerity that it almost makes me believe she can do it. It¡¯s a painful laugh, one that brought me back to how we were in the misty past of a little over a year ago. Before she left me for William. Before she and the others set me on fire. Am I even allowed to be the slightest sliver happy to see her again after what she did?

    If nothing else, she has me in a laughing mood, even if in a slightly hostile one. "You really think that you can fix my burned and half-melted skin just by kissing it?"

    "Why would I fix what''s already beautiful?" More sincerity... But I can hear cracks behind her neutral tone. "What isn''t beautiful is the way you think about yourself."

    ... This isn''t fair. She gets to poke and prod at my insecurities until she¡¯s drawn me out of my coffin, pulled me back into the land of the living just like Serena had. But apparently turnabout isn''t fair play because she has always been alive! There''s nothing of hers for me to draw out of the grave!

    Well... There might be something, but it¡¯s hardly going to be funny. "... I know why you all did it, why you all dragged me to the pyre... But how could you? How were you able to? You were all friends, precious playmates, I loved you all. So how..."

    She stops a moment, before gently laying a kiss between my legs and looking back up at me. "It''s because you loved us all, I think, that we could do it... None of us could have you, because you happily belonged to everyone. I can''t speak for any of the others, and neither can they seeing as a lot of them are dead now, but... I certainly couldn''t feel safe knowing you had me, but I didn''t have you."

    "... I never demanded that you belong to me-"

    "But I wanted to belong to you! ... The things we did were things I couldn''t do to someone who didn''t own me, heart and soul... I was all for you, so why couldn''t you be all for me?!"

    And there it is, the thing I can pull from Denise... Jealousy. "... I just wasn''t built that way, Denise. I loved you truly, and I''d have loved you forever, but I don''t think I can be owned. I don''t think I can ''belong'' to anyone except myself. And that means recognizing all the beauty of the world, rather than just specific little patches."

    "Well, how could I ever be sure then? That you''d love me forever? If you can''t be mine then how do I know you''ll stay?!" She looks about ready to cry, looking in my eyes as if she can claw out an answer that will satisfy her.

    "... Because Renee Arbor loves you still, even after you set her on fire. She misses you still, even after she died. And that hurts, Denise. It hurts in a way I simply couldn''t take... Being Renee Arbor was just too painful after what the people she loved had done."

    "... Which is why you became a priestess?"

    "Velvet had need of me, not so much need of Renee Arbor, so I cast my lot in with her. The one who hadn''t hurt me, the one who could take it all away. I put on the robes; I fucked strangers for tithes... And I felt nothing."

    "And they never saw your legs..."

    "And they never saw my- Wait, how do YOU know that?"

    "... I may have perhaps, occasionally... Been watching."

    "... Why?!"

    "Because I knew I fucked up!" That scream carries the last of the anger Denise is capable of holding, and after it she simply lays her head upon my lap, desperate for comfort. "William was all mine, but I could never be all his. I never loved him, and I think we both knew it. Heck, I think even Dad knew it, given how much colder he was after he officiated our wedding... I made the wrong decision, not running away with you. And it hurt. It made me want to see you again, the right choice I might have made. But all I saw was the priestess of Alsace, wearing the skin of the woman I belonged to, and that only made the hurt even worse. And that hurt was left to stew for months and months... Until that general, that Serena Pollineux, managed to bring Renee out again! It was beautiful! And I hated her for being the one to do it when it should have been me! ... And I hated myself, for letting her do it, when it should have been me."

    "And you hated me for being dead?"

    "... Yes... I hated you too... First time around for you being you, and the second time around for you not being you. I just... I''ve never been fair to you... I''ve been so cruel."

    "... Then maybe you should kiss it better."

    There is quiet in the grove for a while then, everything is utterly serene as we try to process the things we just admitted... And then, I hear the tearing of velvet cloth, and feel Denise''s lips slowly kiss their way up my form, as she tears my robes to expose my bare skin all the way along. Eventually her lips reach mine... And what follows are more beautiful, beloved blasphemies¡­

    Eventually I wake again in the Grove of Velvet, stripped of my vestments and having again sinned in the eyes of my goddess. There will be no chance for forgiveness this time, I am well and truly alone.

    Denise is still sleeping, she didn''t nearly have Serena''s stamina and was out cold after only half as many blasphemies, so I have to face the morning cold alone again... And I feel that same urge to run away, now that I am Renee Arbor again, but without anyone to help me through it.

    I shake Denise awake in a sudden panic, I can''t run this time... There¡¯s nowhere to run to. "Denise, please, get up, please please please get up!"

    Groggily she manages to open her eyes... She was never a morning person, not even back in the day. "Oh... Good morning, Renee... Hehe."

    Hearing her giggle manages to calm me a little, and having her wake up next to me helps curb my body''s inexplicable desire to run away to nowhere. "... It''s been a long while since we''ve woken up together like this, hasn''t it?"

    "I missed it a lot... I dreamed about it a lot, wishing that my marriage was all a bad dream, that I''d wake up next to you again." She leans in and gently kisses my nose, before casting her eyes downwards. "When all I really had to do was just... Choose to wake up next to you."

    "Yeah well... I doubt it''ll ever be exactly as it was back then but... It''s good to have this back."

    "Best 100 grams I ever spent."

    "..."

    I slowly disentangle myself from her, and shakily rise to my feet. I walk to the altar and remove the coins from it, one by one, as if daring Velvet to stop me, to take me back again. She doesn''t, and soon I have Denise''s entire tithe in my hands, which I lay on the ground in front of her.

    "... You didn''t fuck a priestess of Velvet, remember. You slept with Renee Arbor."

    She looks at the coins on the ground with reverent eyes, before grabbing my hand and pulling me back to the ground, atop her this time. "You... You really are Renee again."

    "Bitter old Renee Arbor... Crying old Renee Arbor... Scared and confused Renee Arbor-"

    "The Renee Arbor I love." She wraps her arms around the back of my neck, holding me close, knowing for certain I can''t be sad for long when I am right up against her like this. "The same Renee Arbor that I''ll be taking back home, along with those coins. Neither one of them belongs in this little grove anymore."

    "... I... I don''t know if I can accept that, not if I can''t give you what you want-"

    "Maybe you can''t belong to me... But maybe I was being a little unreasonable by wanting you to." She leans up and playfully kisses my lips, gentleness clear in her little mischief. "Maybe it''s okay if you simply belong with me."

 Chapter Nineteen

    I really wished that my first visit to the Royal Palace would be under different circumstances. Like receiving a medal! From Her Majesty! And having her smile at me! Being commanded to report there by The Convention of Humanity is very far from what I¡¯d hoped, even before taking into account why they have done so¡­ It honestly seems strange that The Convention is able to commandeer the home of the Royal Family so easily, it¡¯s a rather alarming sign of the times. I can tell that this ''Adjudication Hall'' was once one of the many grand dining rooms of the Palace, hastily renovated into a makeshift court. Then again The Royal Family are part of these proceedings, they too have condemned my actions, so I suppose it¡¯s appropriate for this castigation to take place in their seat of power¡­ Even if I don¡¯t like it.

    ¡°First to take the floor is the delegation from the Aeduian Restorationist Salon!¡± A well-dressed man in a white wig who is probably very important acts as the Master of Ceremonies for these proceedings. ¡°The Honorable Minister Maximillian Roland is to speak!¡±

    The first man coming to condemn me is a well-to-do man in a fine purple suit made from cotton, furnished with gold adornments, making his wealth clear to all around him. He looked bored, which was surprising to me considering he would have voted for me to be condemned like this. And yet he clearly wanted to be here as little as I do.

    "Mademoiselle Pollineux, to flee in the face of the enemy is to show weakness. Life does not abide weakness, any crack in our armor invites the predation of others. This war will go all the longer if our enemies believe we are vulnerable."

    I thought my public condemnation would be more painful but in truth it¡¯s almost vindicating. On the week''s long carriage ride back to Alesia I had time to read Mademoiselle Delphine''s letter. And read it again, and again, it being a much-needed comfort in an emotionally tumultuous time. It had almost been enough to let me sleep soundly. As this gilded politician gave his theories, his reasons for standing me before the most boring-looking men in Avernia and slandering me publically, he put me in mind of a passage from Mademoiselle Delphine''s letter.

    "Miss Serena, your retreat was both utterly unexpected and entirely brilliant. That you managed to keep the army in such good order in the face of enemy fire is a feat of martial skill not many upon the face of La''an would be capable of! You have more than demonstrated your abilities to me, and I am proud to call you my rival. I would not in fact trust any commander other than myself to match you in battle."

    It was perhaps a little much praise, but I must have made an impression on my opposing general. That or she¡¯s simply flattering me, but what would be the point of that? Why try to earn the respect of a nineteen-year-old she barely knew, that she''d never even seen. Why would she want to be my rival other than being genuinely impressed by me? ... I maybe shouldn''t speculate on those questions too long, they might go to strange or depressing places.

    My thoughts overtake the words of another two purple-shirted speakers, their voices bouncing off me entirely. My attention only returns when someone whom I believe is the fourth speaker, a man wearing green woolen fineries and a wool-spun lawyer''s insignia, takes the floor.

    ¡°The Delegation for the Constitutional Monarchist Salon shall take the floor. First to speak,  The Honorable Minister Duke Bruno Vercinax!¡± The man running the proceedings was loud enough to rival the Marshal for sheer intensity.

    The ¡¯Honorable Minister¡¯ in question looks nervous, seemingly trying his absolute hardest not to play with his hands as he gives his condemnation. What is he afraid of? He¡¯s the one castigating me.

    "Retreats go against the natural order of things, life does not allow retreats and we should not either! To violate these laws is anathema for the soul, and you have condemned your troops alongside yourself with your actions!"

    I hold no respect for anything Wool considers ''natural''. Torn apart children, citizens forming militias and charging into professional soldiers, and the things that happened to Renee are what Wool considered ''natural''. I¡¯m tempted, sorely tempted to shout the man down, to castigate and condemn him and his God for their sense of ''nature¡¯. But I remember another part of Mademoiselle Delphine''s letter, and it calms me enough to hold my tongue.

    "To act so creatively and unexpectedly in the face of the enemy will always give you the advantage of surprise, and often more advantages besides. I have heard it said your brother Antoine is an innovator when it comes to the art of warfare, but I''m tempted to say that what I have seen of you implies a creative soul all your own! I eagerly anticipate our next meeting, and for you to act in a way I simply cannot predict.¡±

    A soul all my own... Mademoiselle Delphine knows exactly what to say. Or perhaps she¡¯s simply a gifted amateur when it comes to writing letters for foreign generals... I wonder what she looks like. I wonder if she''s this charming in person. That rude cavalry officer, Siobhan, was utterly devoted to her. Maybe I''ll have just as many nice things to say if I ever see her for myself.

    Another handful of green-clad speakers have come and gone while I¡¯ve been lost in thought. There were so many of them and a lot of them seemed to wear very similar clothing. Almost like army uniforms, denoting different armies from different nations. The next speaker that I managed to pay attention to looked the part of a priest, wearing a cotton and wool robe adorned with steel discs, like the scales of a fish.

    ¡°The Delegation of the Representatives of Steel shall take the floor! To speak, The Honorable Minister Adrien Arbour!¡±

    This man carries himself with a severity that looks very uncomfortable, and frankly impractical. It¡¯s as if he¡¯s anticipating being tackled to the ground at any second, and attempting to stand as firmly as possible.

    "To deny yourself, to deny your men the glory of sacrifice to the king of all gods is blasphemy of the highest order, Mademoiselle Pollineux. I pray for your soul, and yet I struggle to imagine Steel will forgive this cowardice!"

    Steel. Steel, the God who dares to say he stands above Her Majesty. The God who swallows me and my enemy whole and forces us to fight our way out of his stomach. The God who demands I become a monster, who venerates and justifies the monster that tore its way through Alsace¡­ I''m starting to get sick of the demands and pretensions of this supposed ''king of gods and god of kings''. And I believe that Mademoiselle Delphine agrees with me.

    "I have always appreciated the courage it takes to take reality as it is. You saw the world for how things were, you saw an impossible battlefield, and you acted as was necessary to save what you could. The press and politicians, those who have never so much as glimpsed the world with clear eyes and a realistic lens, may condemn you for your actions, but know that to those with whom you share the same view, you are a hero. And no man or God can convince me otherwise, Miss Serena."

    Mademoiselle Delphine can be remarkably poetic when she wants to be, and remarkably sweet. Come to think of it, she always calls me ''Miss Serena''. Maybe she''d prefer to be Mademoiselle Anastasia? It sounds strange to be so informal with someone I''d never properly met, and yet with her it feels normal. So maybe this is yet another thing that could be our own, new normal... I like that thought, having a rival seems to be much like having a friend.

    ¡°The Delegation from the Royal Family shall take the floor! To speak, The High King of Avernia, Phillip Crixis, the 29th of his name!¡± A little less enthusiasm from the shouty man in the wig, perhaps he has no love for the royal family.

    The final speaker takes the stage... And takes the Queen with him, her standing behind and to the side, and her attention solely on me. My attention is solely on her, I can barely parse a word of the High King''s castigation of me. I have to know, I simply have to know what Her Majesty, Her Divine and Radiant Majesty thinks of me. I need to know if she hates me as much as the boring men of The Convention do. I read her face, trying to find any sign of what she¡¯s feeling¡­

    And what I found is a stone-faced expression... And the slightest hint of her eyes darting to her chambers, before returning to me... Is this an invitation? Did this actually happen? Did I dream this? Am I reading too much into this? Her Majesty may have done something that may have been an invitation to maybe invite me into her chambers! ... Standing before the High King, standing before his presumably pathetic performance, I experience just about every emotion I have ever heard of in one titanic burst, hope and trepidation crashing against each other in my heart and threatening to take me right to the floor if I can''t withstand both.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!And as I struggle with the mere possibility of speaking to Her Majesty alone, the last of Mademoiselle Anastasia''s words return to me, as if to help me stand my ground.

    "You are alive. You and your men, you escaped the field of Canstatt alive. And because you are alive, you can always try again, you can always take another chance, a new path. Can always meet me on the field of battle again or pursue your other endeavors again. Anyone who cares about you will always be glad that you are alive, Serena. That you can try again with them."

    ... For as long as I am alive, I can live for Her Majesty. Anastasia is right, even if Her Majesty seeks to condemn me herself... I am still alive and could win her favor in some other fashion. I could do better for her, take other chances to impress her. So, no matter what, I''d stand tall. For her.

    His Grace finally yields the floor, and it seems the old men are now more interested in bickering and gossiping amongst one another to pay much attention to me. I see the Queen make her way to her chambers, and when it becomes certain that I am no longer the focus of the day''s meeting I slip in to join her, hoping against hope that she has in fact invited me in.

    Her Majesty, Her Divine Majesty, sits upon her bed, staring at the door, smiling as I slip inside. "Serena..."

    She said my name! It takes every bit of restraint in the entire world to not squeal, and to gracefully walk over to her rather than sprinting. "Your Majesty."

    "Hehe..."

    Her giggle is the most radiant giggle I have ever experienced, and I know full well that next time I am given the choice I will die for this woman. By rights I should kill for this woman. It almost makes me think that perhaps she isn''t here to castigate me like everyone else, to say mean things about me...

    The resolve that Anastasia had gifted to me quickly evaporates, now that I am in the Queen''s presence. I''m not certain I can survive her ire, not even for a moment. If she frowns at me I will burn, if she yells at me I will bleed. I stop in place while walking towards her, it seems even the mere concept that my own personal goddess might be displeased with me is enough to freeze my legs in place. I am stuck, stuck in a place between life and death, waiting on Her Majesty''s word.

    Her face retains its smile, albeit one laced with concern. "Serena, I know what you''re thinking, and I have no intention of castigating you like those tiring Convention politicians. I know you did your best for me, and I am proud to have such a devoted general in Avernia''s service."

    I didn''t expect her kindness and understanding could be just as lethal as her potential scorn, but in the face of absolution from Her Majesty I find my legs going weak and my vision studded with stars. I worry I¡¯m smiling more intensely than anyone has ever smiled in human history, it seems possible that my skull will shatter in the face of sheer, inexpressible joy. Her Majesty gestures to a nearby chair, and I find myself sitting upon it before I even realize I¡¯ve moved, obedience is as natural as breathing in my awestruck state.

    She can''t help but laugh, although it ends on a slightly somber tone. "You just spent the last hour being criticized by some of the richest and most powerful people in Alesia, possibly in Avernia, and yet you can still smile."

    "That was an hour?" I''m surprised that I can still form words in this state, and yet here I am, conversing with Her Majesty for what I realize is the very first time. "I must confess I really didn''t pay much attention to them."

    "They demand respect, but they certainly don''t seem to earn it very well." Her Majesty beams at me; I must have said something that made her very happy. "The best they can provoke is fear, and yet you seem utterly immune to the threat they pose. It''s refreshing, Mademoiselle Serena."

    I''m refreshing? I''ve been called nicer things, and yet every compliment I have ever received pales in comparison to Her Majesty''s attention. "I''ve already been shot at for you, Your Majesty. The figurative snipes of the grown-ups in the stands pale in comparison to the actual bullets I would take at your command."

    "Hehe, I am but a Queen Consort you know. You''re a strange one, Mademoiselle Serena, to call someone as humble as myself ''Your Majesty''."

    Self-deprecation? Who dared give the Queen the impression that she is anything other than majestic, that she is anything less than a goddess upon Lutice?! I cannot stand for this, a world in which she can feel humble is not a world that can justly be allowed to exist!

    "Your Majesty, I swore my oath to you. You are the one who is owed my respect, not Steel, not the High King, not the politicians. I cannot stand to see a world that would make you ''humble''. Not when you are so kind, and beautiful, and kind, and forgiving, and smell nice, and beautiful, and-"

    "That''s... That''s enough I think." She''s blushing! ... I just told her she smells nice, didn''t I?

    At least I didn''t tell her how warm she was on a cold night, thank the Gods. "It''s all true though... You are more a Majesty than your husband ever will be to me. I''ll fight for a world that could see you for what you are.

    She blushes just a little deeper, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to brush off my hagiography. "Hehe, you are kind. I must confess, since I was made Queen Consort I have been given thousands of little compliments, hollow niceties from uncaring people. And yet you have given me something so few ever have. Sincerity. It''s... Nice."

    I''m nice? I''m nice! I want to cheer and celebrate; I want to jump out of my chair and scream my love to the world. I just a little bit want to kiss the Queen forever, but that simply is not what I deserve from Her Divine Majesty. I stay in my chair and try to keep my smile from being overwhelming.

    Her Majesty looks down, something appears to have upset her, and I immediately try to think about what it might be, and what might make it better. "... If I could only reward your sincerity with something greater than what I must do to you."

    "Do... To me?" To my shame those words would make my Velvet mind race with possibilities if she said them with a smile¡­

    "Yes... Serena, I called you in here to let you know that unfortunately, the Royal Family will be unable to provide you lodgings or money during your furlough here in Alesia. The press would hound us for using taxpayer money to subsidize a failure and-"

    "Is that all?" It seems odd to me that she is so upset about something as ridiculous, as fake as money. "I don''t serve you for pay, I serve you because... Because you are My Majesty."

    "You being sweet about this is only going to make it harder, Mademoiselle Serena..." She nervously plays with her fingers as she sits on her bed, unable to meet my gaze. "We... We also will not be able to meet in any public place. The press is going to make you something of an enemy in the eyes of the people and we in the Royal Family get enough bad publicity already. To associate with you is just going to give them ammunition."

    ... Okay, that part stings. That part almost sends me off my chair. I grab my stomach as if clutching a wound, as if I''ve been shot like so many of the men who followed me had. But if I''d been shot I might just bleed out and die, this lingers and offers no such relief.

    "O... Oh..." Those are the only words I can muster, the only words that will obey me.

    "It won''t be permanent! ... Hopefully. The people are fickle, stupid things, they can only really focus on one devil at a time. Soon they will find someone new to hate, and you will no longer be a... A potential threat to those who you wish to associate with."

    I can tell Her Majesty is trying her absolute hardest to say that in the gentlest way she possibly can, and yet she may have said the worst thing she could possibly say. If there is a single thing upon Lutice, a single possibility that scares me more than having to be apart from Her Majesty, it is possibly bringing her harm. A threat... I am a threat to Her Majesty. I am... I am¡­

    "I am so sorry!" I fall forward off the chair, knees on the ground, face joining them, bowing as deeply as I physically can. "I am so sorry to have endangered you, I will never allow it to happen again-"

    "Serena... Please get up." She sounds more sad than anything else¡­ "You haven''t endangered me yet, nor have you disappointed me. I know you did what you thought was best, and you made sure Avernia was safe."

    "I made sure you were safe, I-"

    "You did what you had to. You were brave... And unfortunately, we live in an age that celebrates vanity more than it does bravery. At least while you''re here I am permitted to celebrate you... But once you leave that door, I''m not sure when I will next get the chance. I am sorry, Serena.¡±

    I want to cry... But so does the Queen. I remember the Grove of Steel, I remember how that man, whoever he was, made her want to cry, and how I stood resolute in defense of her... Now she wants to cry because of me. I must stand resolute in defense of her again, against myself. It would be a sin to make a woman as beautiful as her look sad.

    I make it to my feet slowly and try to give her a smile. "Her Majesty is too kind to her supplicant regardless. You risked a lot to explain these things to me in person. I will never believe you are not brave, brave as anyone on a battlefield."

    This seems to strike a chord with the Queen, one which causes her a wound of her very own. "... I''m sure we''ll meet again. Something somewhere will redeem you in the eyes of the miserable reprobates that wander our Alesia, I know it will."

    "Then I suppose it is my duty to take my leave then, to get to it, to make a normal where I am no longer... A threat to Her Majesty."

    "Till then, Serena."

    My composure is just enough to get me out the door, my resolute desire to protect the Queen from all harm, including myself, is enough to get me out of her sight. To get out of a door I might never, ever enter again. Now, where she can no longer see, where my sorrow can no longer hurt her, I can finally break apart. I can finally let myself crumble. I can finally-

    "... Kitty?"

 Chapter Twenty

    I know this kitten. It may have been two years, and the darling creature may have grown a little bigger and dignified looking, but this is absolutely a kitten I know! One I met wandering the Great Groves of Steel during my first sacrifice! They had been trying to climb the trees and failing, but trying all the same. And now that kitten is staring me in the face from across a hallway, tail swaying.

    ... And I''m supposed to be devastated, I can''t simply wander over and play with the charming creature! "... Monsieur kitten, I''m sorry but I''m too old to play now. I''m an adult and-"

    While I manage to stop myself walking to the cat, no force in the world can stop the cat from walking to me, looking right up at me with its beady eyes. It is determined, it has a mission to end the malaise that is attempting to tear me apart right now.

    No... This pain is in service to Her Majesty, I cannot allow myself to simply ignore it! "Kitty, please, I can''t play today. Surely there are better playmates, less shameful playmates you could find!"

    The cat nuzzles my leg, purring all the while. One of the beautiful things about cats is that they do whatever they please, no matter what other people think, and that means piling on affection without a fear in the world.

    It seems like a beautiful kind of grown-up to become... Dang cat. "... Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you might get pilloried in the press for playing with a pariah like me. A threat..."

    The cat walks just a little in front of me, turning back its head at me expectantly. A challenge! A chase... A childish game, the kind of thing I''d do back home with the feral cats.

    ... Maybe I''m not quite a grown-up yet. Or maybe this is simply the kind of grown-up I am.

    I give chase, soon bearing a stupid grin on my face as the kitten speeds away. They''re a fast little thing, jumping on tables and sliding through little gaps to build distance on me. I chase them through the remaining grand dining hall, the one which isn''t now a slapdash court. I chase them past the throne room itself, from which whispering can be heard, the King doing ''politics'' with some boring old men no doubt... And eventually, I chase the cat to the Royal Apartments, and into the arms of a strikingly beautiful woman who looks oddly familiar, but I can''t quite place it.

    At least, she seems somewhat familiar until she speaks, her voice less leaving her mouth than simply dissociating from its source. "... Did you find our cat, madam?"

    I nod; it¡¯s hard to form words in the face of someone so distant but somehow I manage. "Yes- Well, it''s more that they found me..."

    "I see." The closest thing to a hint that this woman is alive is her occasional doting on the kitten in her arms, their feline fluffiness apparently more powerful than the stillness of the grave. "Thank you, madam."

    Somehow, I don''t feel very thanked, even if I don''t feel especially insulted. "I''m not much of a madam... Please, call me Serena."

    "Very well, Serena."

    The air is silent after that, apart from the slightly pleading purrs of the kitten in this woman''s arms, clearly wanting more affection than it is getting. It seems to expect more, which is odd to expect from a corpse, but maybe this cat knows something I don''t. I should have just left, but something about her stunned me into inaction, some familiarity¡­

    And then I hear Malmo approaching, and it becomes absolutely clear I should have left when I had the chance. "Ah! Mademoiselle Pollineux! ... And Her Highness, naturally."

    "General Malmo..." At least her utterly disengaged corpse-ness is consistent, and not just with me.

    As General Malmo turns his attention back to me, I finally manage to process something rather important. ''Her Highness''. Her Highness, as in a Princess. As in The Princess of Avernia. As in our Princess! And he shows her so little mind as to be utterly disrespectful!

    I give my full attention to Her Highness, bowing deeply and trying to sound as apologetic as possible. "Ah! Forgive my lack of respect, your Highness! I did not recognize you; I apologize in profuseness!"

    Looking up, I swear I see her smirk a little, not so much at my bowing but with her eyes cast at Malmo, who I completely ignored in the same fashion he did the princess in our midst.

    Malmo taps me on the shoulder, clearly impatient for my attention and believing himself a higher priority than Her Literal Highness. "R... Right. In any case, Mademoiselle Pollineux, I have heard you have nowhere to stay during your time in Alesia-"

    Oh yeah, he absolutely betrayed me, didn''t he? I consider throwing a punch at him. I vaguely consider beating him to death in front of the princess for him having become an obstacle standing between Her Majesty and I... But I know literally one thing about politics and that is to try not to make enemies. And getting back to Her Majesty''s side would, depressingly, have a political solution, not a sensible one¡­

    But even so, I''m angry, and in rising from my bow my attention does end up in his direction. "Yes, because of your testimony regarding the Battle of Canstatt, if the information I''ve heard is correct. You quite effectively denied me a place to sleep, General Malmo."

    There is a brief flash of anger in his eyes, directed at someone not presently present in this random hallway. "I had hoped that certain people would show more discretion about that matter... Just know that the account was designed to elevate my own political career, not as a deliberate move to denigrate yours. You were merely collateral damage, which I do apologize for."

    "So the moment I left Canstatt with the army intact you ran right to Alesia to give your account of things- Wait... Canstatt is almost 500 miles from Alesia. You gave your testimony only a day after the battle."

    "I had thought it best to strike while the iron was hot-"

    "How? How did you move 500 miles in a day? A carriage at full speed would take over two weeks to make such a journey, a lone rider maybe a week and a half. This... This is actually impossible, Malmo! How did you-"

    "I am sworn to secrecy where that is concerned, I''m afraid. Both the method and the person responsible."

    "Am I to believe the actual Gods conspired to let you make my life more difficult, then?"

    He nervously chuckles at my little suggestion, which makes me at least a little nervous in turn. Trying to get back to Her Majesty''s side through playing the political game is going to be a lot harder if the gods really are as opposed to me as it sometimes feels. And I simply do not wish to live in a world where Malmo of all people has divine favor.

    He tries to restrain his telling little nerves and returns to his usual punchable smile. "Regardless of how it came about, I always have a place for a Pollineux at my manor in Alesia. And since you are in need of a place, I will happily send a servant for your things and take you there now-¡±

    He''s being pushy, probably because on some level he knows that I have no intention of staying with him. "Malmo, I haven''t said yes."

    "It''s a no-brainer, Mademoiselle Pollineux. Sleeping rough on the streets of Alesia simply isn''t an option, and you hardly have the money for a hotel or the like. And if the mob finds you, well... You are something of a media devil, they might just tear you apart."

    "You are quite convinced yours is the only solution-"

    "What other friends do you have, Mademoiselle Pollineux? Besides, your brother would never allow me to let you sleep in a park somewhere. Come along now, it''s a nice manor, you''ll want for nothing."

    I''ll want for death is what I''ll want... Malmo doesn''t seem to be budging, as if challenging me to punch him all over again. It does seem the only way out of this situation besides being forced into his home. He''s forcing my hand, it''s disgusting. And of course, punching him is only going to produce more column inches, the sympathetic General Malmo being slugged by a cowardly traitor. I can''t win... I don''t know why, but my eyes cast their way to Her Highness, begging, pleading for rescue. A stupid gesture on my part. Why would she help a woman she doesn''t even know?

    "Forgive me, Malmo, but Serena already has arrangements for her time in Alesia. Here. With me in fact." ... She speaks.

    And Malmo looks utterly incensed, barely containing his sudden venom. "That is ¡®General¡¯ Malmo, your Highness."

    "She''ll be staying with me, General Malmo."

    Now he looks about ready to throw a punch, apparently he''s more comfortable bullying politically illiterate young women with no power and connections than actually being challenged. "Now your Highness, surely you''ve heard about the reputation of Mademoiselle Pollineux here. It would be rather dangerous politically to offer her a place. I myself am merciful and gracious, I am willing to accept the slings and arrows I might face, but the Royal Family... You need to avoid any bad press you can."

    I can already see the headlines now. ''Wronged, betrayed General shows grace to cowardly rookie commander. General Malmo shows kindness to wayward child.'' Some slings and arrows for our poor Malmo.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Her Highness almost smiles for a moment, a proud smile. "Which is why I felt it necessary to redeem her character in the eyes of the people. Serena here has offered to take personal charge of my security during her time in Alesia, free of charge of course. It will save public money on security arrangements and show the world that she is brave enough to protect someone she believes in. It''s a rather dangerous job to be the bodyguard of a princess after all, especially in the face of the bad press you mentioned. Not something a coward would do, right Malmo?"

    "General-"

    "I believe she''ll do great things for me, General Malmo. Though I''m certain she appreciates your offer, she did accept mine first. It would not do for her to go back on her word. Right, Serena?"

    ... I''m saved. I''ve actually been rescued! Like a princess in a fairy tale, except the princess is the one doing the saving, and no one''s being stabbed! It''s hard not to swoon just a little.

    But I restrain my swooning until I can get Malmo far away from me. "That is indeed correct. After my mistakes at Canstatt I must atone, and Her Highness is so kind that she has given me the opportunity. Oh, but I do appreciate your offer of lodgings."

    Malmo looks utterly crushed. He can''t even work up the wherewithal to be angry any longer, he is simply lost. He nods, giving a valiant struggle to say anything before giving up and taking his leave. Sore loser, though that''s to be expected from such a rotten winner. And a cheater at that.

    And with him long gone I can finally start swooning. "Your... Your Highness, you saved my life!"

    Is... Is that a blush on her face? "I can''t imagine it was something so serious, he probably wouldn''t have killed you-"

    "I would have killed me! You seem to know him at least enough to know he''s insufferably smug. It''s even worse when you have something he wants."

    "Sounds nice, being wanted."

    Back to corpse-like... I think I understand this woman a little more, or perhaps I just feel a gratitude that must be expressed. I realize now she perhaps needs a little bit of rescuing of her own. And, well, in the fairy tales a princess is always saved by a brave and noble knight.

    I''m no Pasche, but I can still get on one knee and play the role of a knight, like a character in a play, if it might make Her Highness happy. "He doesn''t want me; he simply wants my name. But I can tell there''s a ''you'' that I want to see, and that I want to protect, your Highness. May I have your name?"

    Her Highness looks at me with clear and obvious confusion, as if waiting for me to evaporate into smoke, or to suddenly give up the facade and betray her somehow. "... The floors here are a very uncomfortable place to kneel."

    "Brave and noble knights do uncomfortable things sometimes."

    "Serena, what are you doing?"

    "... Being a brave and noble knight for you? ... I swear, It made sense in my head-"

    Her Highness laughs, and as she laughs, I realize why she is so familiar, so beautiful! ... She has Her Majesty''s laugh, and her eyes, and her¡­ Proportions. I shake my head, that is the kind of Velvet thought that does not enter the mind of a brave and noble knight like I''m pretending to be! ... How did I not see it before, like mother like daughter. She rescued me, just like Her Majesty did.

    And Her Highness smiles and laughs for me, just as Her Majesty did. "You¡¯re a strange one, Serena. There are no brave and noble knights, you know. Not even in the days of knights and kings were any of them brave and noble... But it''s a fun fantasy to have, isn''t it?"

    "To be a brave and noble knight?"

    "To be loved by one... My name is Theophania, had my brother not been born and I remained the heiress to the crown of Avernia I might''ve been Theophania the Ninth."

    "Well, Theophania, you have saved me. Future High Queen or no, I am in your debt, and would like to swear an oath to your service."

    "... Serena this is a little much, we just met-"

    "Hehe, play along, it''ll be more fun that way!" I look up at her and grin, suddenly very aware of the kind of grown-up I am. "If you will accept this wayward girl into your service I promise she will serve you faithfully unto death, keep you safe from all harm, and always be on your side."

    A little something breaks in Theophania, something that I swear I saw break for Renee back in the Grove of Velvet. That part of their respective heads that convinced them that nothing good happens, that no one good exists... She smiles widely, clearly very amused... And quite touched.

    "Hehe, very well. I don''t have a sword to knight you, buuuuuut." Theophania gently lowers the cat onto one of my shoulders, then the other, before gently laying it on my head. "Rise, Sir Serena, my brave and noble knight. I accept you into my service."

    I rise to my feet, rather awkwardly seeing as there is a cat on my head, but this only seems to amuse Theophania more and I cannot say that is unwelcome. "Hehehe, I haven''t read all too many fairy tales admittedly, but I imagine this is the first time anyone has been knighted with a feline."

    "I''ve read all of them, this has literally never happened." She grins, doting on the cat again, showing them a lot more affection now that she wasn''t so dead. "But I figure a cat''s claws are sharp enough to be a perfectly reasonable sword replacement. And you can''t back out now just because it wasn''t a ''proper'' ceremony, no givesies backsies on oaths!"

    "As if I would ever abandon a woman''s service for loving cats as much as I do." I reach up to grab the cat and give them back to Her Highness... She smells nice too, oh no.

    She isn''t precisely a portrait of Her Majesty, but they do share a great many features... If I had to guess, she might be a year or two older than me, which puts a smile on my face that some other ¡®grown-ups¡¯ can be like this. And it suddenly makes me realize just how old Her Majesty is, if even her daughter is older than I am... The fact that thought excites me is something else I will need to critically examine at a time that I am not in close proximity to Her Highness. It would certainly make my oath awkward if I... If I become her other mother, oh no, oh gods! Please let literally anything to stop this train of thought-

    "Monsieur Bitey!" A young man who I have definitely also seen before rushes up to the two of us to dote upon the cat in Theophania¡¯s arms, smiling widely. "I have been looking everywhere for you! None of the boring people knew where you went!"

    Thank the gods for small mercies. And I do mean small, His Highness the Prince is still a surprisingly little thing. Even knowing he is fourteen I would''ve guessed he was twelve, if that. He doesn''t cut a very regal figure, but he seems happy enough, which might honestly be more important.

    Theophania relinquishes the cat to her brother, giving them one last pet on the head before turning her full attention to me. ¡°Monsieur Bitey is more Charles'' cat than mine, he utterly adores the fuzzy little monster. He says he can talk to it and I''m tempted to believe him."

    This raises an eyebrow from me. Practically nothing is known about witch magic, how it comes to be or why it works, but there is exactly one definitive truth about it. Only women are ever capable of it. Which seems a cut and dry rule but it makes me wonder about Pasche. Would she be able to use witch magic, if only she were lucky enough to have it bestowed upon her? Is Charles the same way as her, and able to use it? ... I shake my head, the science of magic is already a stupid thing to say, let alone consider.

    "Uhhh, Serena? Lutice is calling to you." Theophania flicks her fingers in front of my face, apparently my train of thought was long and intense.

    "Ah! ... Present, Your Highness-"

    "Good. We''ll send someone for your bags then. Come along, I''ll convince Mother to let you stay-"

    "I umm... I actually can''t... Malmo is right, no matter how you try to spin it, the press will spin it differently. If I stay with you I''m putting you and Her Majesty in danger-"

    "Her Majesty?"

    "... I can have no secrets from you, I swore an oath to her as well, back during my time as a student in the Military Academy. She is to me Her Majesty."

    There''s a strange little expression from Theophania, but I think it settles on being glad. "Hehe, you would be the first person to have no secrets from me... Not even Mother has no secrets from me..."

    ¡°O¡­ Oh-"

    "Regardless, I don''t care what some overstuffed men in overstuffed chairs with overstuffed ink pots have to say."

    "Neither do I, neither does Her Majesty. But the people with pitchforks and torches responding to those words? ¡­ I''ve seen what kind of monster an angry mob of civilians can be, and I can''t simply fight everyone in Alesia to keep you safe. Staying away is my way of keeping you and your mother safe from harm."

    "... None of the fairy tale knights had to deal with politics or journalists."

    "I think that''s what makes them fairy tales, Your Highness."

    "Maybe that''s why they''re so dear to me..."

    There is another silence, awkward in another way to the first... I think I would happily stay close to this woman, befriend her, maybe even share a bed and- Maybe not do EXACTLY as I would do with Lazierte but... Be friends regardless! But... I''m a threat... And now I have a whole other woman to try not to cry in front of today.

    "I would not endanger someone I swore an oath to... I suppose your penniless knight will simply have to protect you where and when she can, from the shadows and from the streets."

    "... You won''t make it out there. Malmo is right, people are angry, and that makes public places scary places to be... No fairy tale knight was ever lynched, and I''d prefer mine not be the very first."

    "I still have some places I could try... Maybe the military academy will offer me a bed. I am still technically a student even if I''ve been sent to war. Or if worse comes to worst, I''ll simply find a way to keep myself safe. I may not have any money, but I do have a sword, and the knowledge of how to use it."

    "... From the sacrifices."

    "... Yes."

    "I never could stand to watch them. Even if they''re for ''my'' God, I must confess I always look away before... You know." She plays with her hands, looking down a little. "An embarrassing admission for a princess, I must admit-"

    "I also have difficulty looking too, even when I''m forced to perform them. I completely understand, Your Highness, and you''ll get no grief from me for not wanting to watch people die."

    She looks back up; it¡¯s as if every time I open my mouth she becomes slightly less convinced that I am real at all. "... How are you like this, Sir Serena? How are you so... You?"

    I shrug, trying not to think about that. "I don''t know. Normal is a strange thing to me, and I''m not sure if it''s just because I''m from Kerska or if... If I''m just different somehow. But I don''t want to be a bad kind of normal. I guess I''m just not much of a grown-up, huh..."

    "... I think that I would prefer a brave and noble young woman as a knight, than any number of cold, calculating adults."

    "Well, that I can provide. But sometimes I have to do grown-up things... Like saying goodbye to a new friend, to keep her safe from me."

    It stings to have to leave her then, not just for me I imagine... But I made an oath, and I must stick to it. I must keep her safe, I must deny myself her company. I''ll protect her in my own way, from wherever I end up, be that the Academy dorms or the streets.

    ... Wait, I just made an oath to protect a woman I only just met. As a joke, but also for real. All of this while I am a social pariah, and I really should be trying to look out for myself... My knee hurts, that floor absolutely was a bad place to kneel.

    I really am a very stupid kind of grown-up.

 Chapter Twenty One

    It''s strange how foreign a home of two years can seem after only a month away. Approaching the Military Academy, approaching the place I''d shared with Lazierte and the other Comrade Witches for so long, the place where I met Her Majesty... It is both as I remembered it, but also different. Darker, shadowier, deeper. It felt as if I had lived within a painting for my entire military education, and only now am I making my way into the actual building itself for the first time... Were the trees that formed the fence around the grounds always so thick? Was the building''s facade always so imposing? It isn''t enough to scare or intimidate, honestly quite the opposite. It feels almost like the building is trying to project an image, a little like set dressing in a play, and is trying far too hard to sell the illusion. It honestly comes across as contrived. Some architect somewhere wanted the place to look very impressive to seventeen-year-olds who had not yet seen a battlefield.

    Maybe this too is part of growing up, seeing the construction, the contrivance behind things that seem so scary... That part doesn''t seem so bad in honesty, it¡¯s almost a little amusing. Even if I know somewhere in the Great Grove of Steel the Academy is built into, a great many bodies are buried. Some I put there myself¡­

    As I approach the gate door I am faced with one thing that is exactly as I remember it. "Minister Rosierte! I fail to see what you believe qualifies a novice like you to criticize our army, but-"

    Rosierte... Why does that name seem familiar? "I fail to see what qualifies an insane man like you to be immune from criticism! Sending the Comrade Witches to war with only two years of training was bad enough, but the new students too? Half of them aren''t even eighteen yet!"

    "The Situation in Alemannia has just about collapsed, Rosierte! If we are to protect our borders we must have more officers to send to the front!"

    It''s strange how the soft-spoken Rosierte is still able to shout down the Marshal of Avernia, even at half the volume. "And you couldn''t take troops from Antoine''s army in Samnia for that purpose? By all accounts his front is stable, and going rather well!"

    "Militaries reinforce success, Rosierte!-"

    "Then I hope the Royal Family enjoys ruling from Genoa, if you''re really too busy winning battles in foreign countries to protect the homeland!"

    "Rosierte-"

    "And all of this would be unnecessary if you had simply accepted my proposal to suspend student fees for talented people from among the common people! We would have no shortage of officers if we simply allowed ourselves to-"

    "Commonfolk are not appropriate leaders in a time of war, are you mad?! Steel would never allow it!"

    "You mustered Commonfolk witches during the Queen''s decree. The God of War and Majesty has hardly struck us all down."

    "That was by royal decree, not by- Ah, Serena!" The Marshal notices me awkwardly standing in the courtyard, waiting for the pair of them to be done before I can ask for a place to sleep. "You talked sense to this man before, you must be able to tell him that common folk are not appropriate officers on a battlefield! One needs a certain noble character to-¡±

    "And character is a matter of birth, is it?" Rosierte fires a barb at the Marshal, before turning his attention to me.

    And now I am stuck, forced to do what might be the most lethal thing in Avernian politics. Express an opinion... I can''t run, I need to find a place in Avernia and this is my last, best shot. But whatever I say is going to take me one step further away from Her Majesty, isn''t it? It''s going to end up in some newspaper, people are going to curse my name even more... I am beginning to realize why Malmo fears the press more than he fears the battlefield. Even Rosierte, whoever he is, is looking at me with more guilt and condolence than a desire for me to prove him right.

    I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Hesitation would kill me, after all, I need to act decisively... What¡¯s the question again? Common folk leading armies? ... Lazierte is of the common folk, isn''t she?

    "... Lazierte was a commoner before she entered Her Majesty''s service. If I remember right, you gave her a colonelcy due to her merit as a student and a commander. I never did learn what her witch''s spell is, but I can''t imagine it was so compelling as to dominate your decision-making. She does as any other commoner could, does she not?"

    I can''t help but find this appropriate, even if my face can¡¯t show it. He separated Lazierte and I, he had set us apart for his own petty beliefs, and now I can turn that against him. It¡¯s a beautiful revenge of the soul¡­

    And the Marshal looks as if he has been stabbed, betrayed much as he betrayed Lazierte and I. "Well- Well I never! Serena, I would have thought your experiences on the battlefield may have taught you some good sense! Or perhaps your time in Canstatt taught you exactly the wrong lessons!"

    And he just had to poke that wound, just like everyone else has today. "I learned my lessons in the hell that consumed Alsace, Marshal! I learned the kind of monster you wanted me to become, the cold and pitiless thing the battlefield demands! And I would never wish to subject ANYONE to such a monstrous transformation, common folk or otherwise! No human being has any place on a battlefield, Marshal¡­ We are all equal in that."

    ... I am almost as loud as the Marshal. He¡¯s stunned trying to formulate a counterargument, before simply shaking his head and taking off back to the Academy building proper, mumbling under his breath. I sure showed him! ... I sure showed up the man I¡¯m supposed to be asking for a place to sleep... Oh no.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Rosierte looks at me with some amount of amusement, albeit the amusement of a joke the two of us were in on. "So that''s what it feels like to listen to one of your speeches from the outside. You could give half The Convention a run for their money with rhetoric like that."

    I look down, suddenly incredibly embarrassed, finding that being praised for yelling my way out of having a place to sleep is something of a painful consolation. "I... I didn''t really mean to, I just... I''ve been dealing with the fallout of my decisions at Canstatt and Alsace all day. I was castigated, my Queen called me a threat to her family, I barely managed to escape having to lodge with Malmo, and now I''ve screamed at the last person in the city who might offer me a bed... I think I might just have an anger problem."

    "I think the world simply has a ''being infuriating'' problem... I am sorry about your castigation. I know it''s not as bad as losing your commission, but it is still-"

    "Why are you apologizing? You didn''t condemn me on a stage in front of all the boring old people."

    "Yes but... The whole thing was technically my idea. And the Queen''s. I refused to vote for you being fired from the Army and offered the compromise of a public castigation, a proposal on which The Convention could have a unanimous vote. The Royal Family expressed their willingness to go along with the plan, so for the sake of unity between the two governments of Avernia it was what we went with. If you''d have preferred to have been sent home, then you can blame me all you like."

    "... As long as I am a general, I can do better next time. For as long as I live, I can try again... Thank you for having me castigated, Monsieur Rosierte."

    "Heh, you rather impressed me when you shouted me down in the Great Groves of Steel. It seemed a shame to let your potential go to waste after such a performance-"

    "Wait, I did what?"

    "... You don¡¯t remember? When the High King told you that you were all going to war? I showed up with some supporters to protest his decision. You were quite incensed at me, gave me something of a burn or two."

    "That was you?!" So that''s why this man seems familiar. "... Do forgive me, Monsieur Rosierte. I just... I saw Her Majesty cry and I don''t remember much of what happened between that and her smiling at me at the end of it."

    "You''re a strange one, Serena. You really do treat love the way some treat politics... Did you say you needed somewhere to stay?"

    Part of me realizes that I openly called the Queen ¡®Her Majesty¡¯ before Rosierte, and he seems to have accepted it without question¡­ He¡¯s surprisingly tolerant of my mild treason. "Yes... Her Majesty cannot offer me a place or any money due to my poor standing in the press. It would be dangerous for her... I am a threat to The Queen, and I must confess it rather stings. Even more than the possibility of having to stay with that odious General Malmo¡­ Oh, apologies, I know he is well-liked by The Convention, I imagine he might be a friend of yours-"

    "Oh fuck that arrogant Aeduian Restorationist, those social-climbing wannabe aristocrats are no friends of mine."

    ¡°¡­ Aedu-what?¡± I blink, trying to find some way in which that phrase isn¡¯t complete nonsense.

    Rosierte¡¯s eyes develop a spark in them when I ask the question, it seems I have kindled a fire. ¡°The Aeduian Restorationists are nothing more than power-hungry opportunists, attempting to hijack the popular will behind The Convention to replace landed nobles with ruthless industrialists. They want to build a republic that can be bought and sold by the rich, one which can be paralyzed at a moment¡¯s notice by their inclusion of a bicameral legislature with a ¡®Senate¡¯ that can veto any legislation passed by the democratically elected representatives of the people! They do it in the name of a long-extinct tribe of Celtic Oligarchs, and have the gall to call it progress! They are scum, they are disgusting scum, and somehow they have been allowed to dominate The Convention of Humanity through lobbying efforts and-¡°

    I smile as best I can, I listen to the best of my ability¡­ But the dense political theory slides off of my brain, I am completely out of this conversation. I feel like my life would be a lot easier if any of this could even begin to make sense to me... Rosierte takes a deep breath, managing to bring himself back from his intensely animated rant. His passion is honestly reminiscent of my own during that unfortunate ¡®shouting at him a lot¡¯ incident.

    ¡°Suffice to say, I don¡¯t much like the people he associates himself with¡­ And for good measure, he personally just happens to be an asshole.¡±

    ... I think I might quite like Rosierte, I find myself regretting siding against the Marshal less and less. "I know enough to agree with that entirely! What kind of General needs three publicists anyway?!"

    "The kind that needs a lot of spin to be made palatable!¡± This gets a smile out of Rosierte, before he turns somewhat introspective. ¡°... I think I would like to take you home."

    "Rosierte!¡± I am shocked, this is our second conversation, and it¡¯s barely less loud than our first one! ¡°That is highly inappropriate and I am not-"

    "I didn''t mean it like that!" Rosierte''s voice honest to goodness breaks just a little, and I realize that in sharp contrast to the old men of The Convention, Rosierte looks not a day over thirty. "I would like to introduce you to my wife, who I love dearly, and offer you my guest room. I am a staunch opponent of the housing crisis in Alesia, so it would be hypocritical to allow you to sleep on the streets while I have a room available."

    "I... Wait. You''re offering me a place to stay?¡± This is definitely a lot better, but surely it comes with the exact same objections, right? ¡°¡­ I mean, I barely know you, monsieur!"

    "I believe I''d like to know you better, you''re a fascinating sort, Serena."

    "But... But I''m a threat! You''ll be an enemy of the press, same as me!"

    "Fuck the press. If I started fearing what those overstuffed men in overstuffed chairs with overstuffed ink pots had to say then I wouldn''t be in the business of trying to make the world a better place."

    ... Her Highness said the same thing about them, didn''t she? It¡¯s enough to make me smile. I can''t imagine the two would see eye-to-eye on most things, but there is a kind of righteous contempt they shared that makes Rosierte rather compelling.

    Rosierte does withdraw just a little bit. He¡¯s still facing me but is now realizing he has offered a stranger use of his home. "I would never attempt to force the issue or try to make up your mind for you... But my wife and I do make a fantastic Celtic Onion Soup."

    When was the last time I ate something homemade anyway? The commissary ate everything my mother sent me for my nineteenth birthday, and even then she probably didn''t actually make them herself like she said. My family has people for that, after all.

    "... Very well, Rosierte. But this soup better be everything you have claimed."

    He offers a smile, a rather genuine smile, one which makes me think he is quite genuinely proud of his wife''s cooking. "It''s as amazing as Celeste is. Ah, Celeste is my wife. And my name is Auguste, if you would prefer to be informal."

    "I would. Please, continue to call me Serena."

    "Gladly, Serena."

 Chapter Twenty Two

    I thought the home of a member of The Convention of Humanity would be a little grander than a simple townhouse in a craftsman''s ward of the city. Still, even if it is rather humble and small on the outside, it¡¯s quite lively and cared for within. It feels like someone is rather proud of this place, happy to call it home. As I admire the cozy, well loved interior of the home I spot a woman at the top of a staircase. A truly gorgeous woman. A dangerously gorgeous woman, one I need to actively force myself not to stare at as she descends the stairs with a radiant smile. I think I have some idea as to why the house is so well maintained now. She seems like an industrious sort.

    Auguste for a moment seems to entirely forget I am here, quickly stepping forward to catch the gorgeous woman as she jumps down the final step into his arms, giving him a loving kiss. Auguste spins her around just a little, the two of them in their own wonderful little world for just a second. The two giggle as their little reverie dies down, and Auguste lowers the woman, who I assume must be Celeste, to the ground.

    "Hehe, we''re not young anymore, darling. We can''t keep this up forever." Auguste strokes Celeste''s hair fondly, giving her his full attention.

    "Then I''ll remember to do it every time until we can no longer." She giggles, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly... Her eyes fall on me, and she blushes just a little, hiding into the small of Auguste''s neck. "Of course, you might''ve told me you brought company before I made a fool of the two of us."

    To make such a beautiful woman sad must be a sin, so even as I find this display of affection quite awkward, I refuse to let Celeste experience that same displeasure. "No, no no, please be as foolish as you like around me, madam! Like Auguste said, the time will come when you can''t be a fool anymore, and I will not rob you of that time."

    Celeste slips her head back out, looking at me properly this time, smiling her bright smile. "Well Auguste, you''ve brought home quite the charming little guest this time! ... She doesn''t look like she''s associated with The Convention, come to think of it."

    "She''s... Not precisely here for our work." Auguste looks down in guilt but doesn''t let go of Celeste for a second. "Darling, this is Serena. She has nowhere to stay and-"

    "Oh! The one being bullied in those awful newspapers!" She slowly, reluctantly releases herself from her husband and approaches me, patting my head and offering me the most reassuring look she can. "Dear child, they have done you an injustice. If there is anything the Rosierte family can do to help you, simply ask!"

    I look down, I have to look down, there''s simply an irresistible aura to this woman that makes this a cruel offer and a cruel touch... Mercifully my stomach growls, giving me to say that a human being might come up with.

    "Your husband did speak highly of your Celtic Onion Soup."

    "Ah! Hehe, he''s underselling himself, as usual. Auguste, do we want to feed our poor, pilloried friend here?"

    Auguste moves over to kiss Celeste on the cheek and gently nuzzle her before making his way to the kitchen. Leaving me alone with this beautiful woman with a beautiful aura¡­ Who happens to be married. And who I have to keep making demands of.

    "I umm... I also need a place to stay. If you don''t mind! I mean, I am aware I am a threat and that while your husband might be okay with risking the ire of-"

    "Overstuffed men in overstuffed chairs with overstuffed ink pots?"

    "... That is a very common refrain, isn''t it?"

    "Anyone who is anyone hates the press, Serena. It''s mostly owned by rich pricks who are trying to buy their way to becoming the new aristocracy by riding on the coattails of the people''s political awakening. To be hated by them is a mark of honor, Serena."

    "... I did not expect you to use such language, madam Celeste."

    "Hehe, nobody does... While I as a woman cannot join The Convention, no law can stop me from knowing what I''m talking about. And knowing what I hate."

    "Wait, women can''t join The Convention of Humanity? I thought it was all about progress and modernity and the like!"

    "Still a boy''s club, despite the constant efforts of my husband and I. That''s the problem with Cotton brains, as much as Auguste and I were proud ''cloth ribbons'' in our youth.¡± She cringes rather bitterly at the memory, making this admission to me is clearly a self-inflicted punishment for her. ¡°We soon learned that the deity of progress and technology was just as much a slave to tradition as Wool. There are certain things they refuse to let go of, merely finding new ways to do them even worse than before. Things that put people in chains, things that keep women trapped in the home-"

    "Things that make bent girls anathema?"

    "Exactly! ... Cotton''s just as bad as the rest of them, the norm of the Gods being enmeshed in politics has had us as a species spinning our wheels and slaughtering each other in pointless wars for millennia now. We are Humanists, mademoiselle Serena, and we seek to make a truly human government. Without gods, and without their norms."

    "... Doesn''t your husband still wear his Cotton lawyer''s insignia?"

    "Yes... Unfortunately to be a lawyer, one must by law be a priest. Auguste still technically is, but that particular divine being has no place in our home." Something seems to suddenly click for Celeste, and her eyes immediately go wide looking at me. "Ah! I apologize, I''ve gone on another little ramble. I''m so sorry, I just get excited meeting new people and-"

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation."No no! It''s okay madam, please don''t be upset, it''s very interesting!" Somehow, when this woman speaks, the words found a home in my brain¡­ I find myself reaching out to stroke her hair to reassure her, which seems to make Celeste''s smile return. "I think I''m honestly starting to understand you and Auguste better."

    "Well, politics is just morality made manifest in material reality. It''s how you demonstrate your virtues, and we want to live in a virtuous world."

    "That... Sounds nice."

    "Yeah..." There''s a moment of the two of us looking right at one another which I find I could''ve found utterly enchanting if I weren''t so anxious about how beautiful I found this married woman. "... Oh! I should go help Auguste in the kitchen. Please, take a seat, read a book, everything that''s ours is yours. Make yourself comfortable-"

    "Ummm..." I''m not sure what precisely motivates my words, but here they are, spilling out of my mouth. "Could I maybe¡­ Help you both? I''ve never cooked before but-"

    "Oh, you are a sweetheart, Serena!" She¡¯s ecstatic, and I suddenly feel quite small. "I don''t mind teaching you a thing or two, I think it''s an important skill to learn. To be able to care for yourself, and to be able to care for others."

    She offers me her hand, which I very nervously accept. She is warm. Warm much like Her Majesty. I feel almost a little out of my body as she leads me to the kitchen, where Auguste appears to be doing... Something cooking-ish probably, wearing an apron with his white hair tied back.

    He turns to face us at the sound of our footsteps, offering a smile. "Heh, I was starting to feel rather lonely in here. Oh, Serena, did you want to help too?"

    I nod, the sight of a dignified lawyer and politician wearing an apron and doing domestic work is honestly rather charming, especially with that smile on his face. Celeste takes me aside, teaching me the proper way to cut vegetables, which is rather different than slashing with swords or sacrificing people to Steel. Knives are different beasts, and it¡¯s honestly a little odd, but in a good way. It¡¯s quite the surprise that it is a serious concern when I give myself a minor cut... This is cooking? It had always seemed so much a calling, a thing one dedicates themselves to in order to serve others. And yet, the three of us are sharing it, doing what we can to contribute to dinner. For a brief moment I wonder if Celeste is crying at my earlier dismal attempts to cut uniform slices of carrot, but it turns out onions are just jerks. Maybe if I ever see Xena again I can ask her about a chemical solution to that, one which doesn''t involve horse urine or melting corpses.

    I think I might rather like to cook with her one day. And Pasche, and Lazierte, and Theophania, and Her Majesty, and maybe even Katarina if we can find a kitchen that can fit her, bearskin and all. It¡¯s a warm kind of environment, even Celeste and Auguste''s occasional skinship and little affectionate comments and gestures make it all seem... Homey. Is this what a family is like?

    ... This absolutely is not what a family is like, not a normal one anyway. I think I have a relatively normal family, we may have ''loved'' one another but we never had this atmosphere. This wasn''t normal... But maybe Celeste and Auguste''s Humanism is to fight for a world where it is. Maybe this is why decent, good people would subject themselves to politics.

    Our meal is ready before I even realize it, and while I can''t say I did much to help both of my hosts seem quite pleased by my contribution. And Auguste it turns out had not been lying. Perhaps I owe him an apology. When he had said ''my wife and I''s cooking I assumed it would fall entirely to her, but it was a rather equal effort, which might be why it tastes so good.

    Their dining table is large, more than enough for three people, and I briefly considered giving the two some space so as to not intrude on their affections... But Celeste practically drags me to sit next to her and Auguste, and we eat together. I''m honestly glad she did¡­

    And of course I had to ruin everything by being curious. "You two seem like such a loving couple... It seems odd that the two of you don¡¯t have any children."

    Auguste stops half spoonful of soup, gently looking away. "W... Well..."

    Celeste tries to force a smile, but after knowing the kind of warmth she welcomed me with, she can have no secrets from me. "We''re focused on our efforts to make a better Avernia. It''d be harder with a child and... Well, we wouldn''t want to raise one in a harsh world like this."

    I feel something turn in my stomach. I have just stepped into a pit trap. I am already dead. What can I possibly do from here?

    Auguste takes a spoonful of soup, and gets a chunk of one of my practice vegetables. "Hehe... You''ll have to cook with us more often, Serena. You have a lot to learn."

    This manages to get a more genuine smile out of Celeste, which gives me permission to breathe again. "Maybe it doesn''t look fancy, sweetheart, but I''m certain it tastes perfectly fine."

    Auguste eats it, and his smile certainly implied that I hadn''t somehow ruined the vegetable entirely with my novice knife skills. "Even if things look bad, sometimes they''re still perfectly delicious on the inside."

    "Are you implying something about me, perhaps?" Celeste gives Auguste a faux pout, before the two of them burst into laughter.

    A world in which a woman this beautiful can be allowed to be self-deprecating, to be humble, is not a world I can abide... Oh gods, what is happening to me? Why is this woman so much like Her Majesty to me?! I finish my soup quickly; this table is rather too radiant to tolerate right now. Why does everything hurt, from the bad things to the good?

    Auguste looks at me with concern, no longer eating. "Is something the matter, Serena? You look troubled."

    I''ll have to lie, he''ll have to know it''s a lie, but at least he won''t know the truth. "... I''m just very tired. It''s been a lot of walking trying to find somewhere to sleep, and-"

    "Ah..." He knows I''m hiding something... But he doesn''t seem particularly angry or suspicious.

    Celeste slowly rises from the table, gently patting my head. "I''ll take her to the guest room, dear. The poor thing has had a long day."

    I slowly rise from my chair, and with that same radiant pain Celeste takes my hand and leads me to the third floor of the little townhouse. Waiting for me there is a small room, a large bed taking up most of the space within it. The room doesn''t seem quite sized for a person... I take a seat on the bed, it''s comfortable enough... It feels like it''s not supposed to be here somehow, its presence is just a little profane.

    Celeste leans down and gently kisses my forehead, which makes me almost jump with shock, much to her amusement. "Hehehe... Sleep well, child. Tomorrow is another day."

    With that she leaves, and now I''m alone in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar house which has done everything it could to become familiar quickly... Would I be able to keep living here if they remained this kind? If Celeste keeps reminding me of Her Majesty? And what kind of person am I if I can''t be in the presence of a beautiful, kind, radiant woman without falling in love?

    "... I am Her Majesty''s. I am Her Majesty''s. I am Her Majesty''s!"

    I force my hands into service, removing my uniform jacket, and unbuttoning my dress. I will demonstrate my love and loyalty, I will be a good and constant supplicant. I love Her Majesty more than anyone, more than my friends, more than Celeste, more than anyone! I try to focus on the fantasy, I try my hardest to feel I am there, kneeling on the uncomfortable palace floor, serving Her Majesty faithfully.

    Tears begin to form around my eyes... I''m still here, in this house, on this bed, confused and in pain. I have failed Her Majesty once again... I cry until I sleep, not even bothering with the blankets and covers, left half-naked on a pile of my own clothes.

    Why does the world tempt me to be more than Her Majesty¡¯s loyal supplicant?

 Chapter Twenty Three

    I hunger.

    I stalk the streets of town, looking for prey to hunt. These streets¡­  I¡¯m in Alsace again, my fur and teeth bristling with steel bayonets, my flesh made of willing soldiers. When I breathe, powder smoke envelops the space around me, cutting me off from the normal world. Wherever I tread is dragged into the world of violence¡­ If I¡¯m in Alsace, then the Coalition is here as well, aren¡¯t they? Here to burn the town to cinders, here to hunt me down.

    My mouth waters. Bigger beasts always have more meat. I lie in wait, creatures like this must be taken by ambush, I am simply not big and scary enough for a stand-up fight. I catch sight of the Coalition Beast, so large that its steps shake the ground as it walks. I allow it to enter the town, the people will set their houses ablaze and trap the opposing monster in the smoke. The Coalition Beast won¡¯t see its death coming.

    It steps over some of the houses and buildings, the Coalition Beast cares not for the people who live in them. This is a place where people cannot live, after all, so one cannot care if they die. The Beast enters the smoke, and I prepare my pounce.

    I jump at its neck and bite, running my claws across the monster¡¯s back, and breathing powder smoke right into its wound. It struggles, it tries to shake me off, and it almost manages it¡­ But I hold firm. I can feel the warmth of its blood in my mouth, the struggle of its body against my hands. And I can feel the radiance of Her Majesty, and know she wants this beast to die.

    Eventually, the Coalition Beast bleeds its last, crumbling to its component soldiers, who scream and flee in the face of my monstrosity. I spit canister shot at the pitiful little humans, stuck in the world of violence with me. I stalk them, I crush them, I eat them, I impale them. And soon, I am all that remains, in the burning remains of the town of Alsace.

    I feel a hand reach from above, stroking my deadly fur, accompanied by a beautiful voice. ¡°My monster. My beautiful monster.¡±

    Her Majesty. Her Majesty touched me! I purr in delight, even as each stroke of my fur removes more and more of the dead soldiers from my skin. The corpses fall a long way to the ground, many becoming broken from the fall, becoming their constituent limbs.

    Ready for consumption by Leather¡¯s faithful¡­ But some of the bodies remain intact. Pasche. Xena. Katarina¡­ I can see them all clearly, their bodies whole amongst the piles of limbs and the sea of gore. But I do not pay them mind for very long. Soon, Her Majesty puts a hand under my chin and is just about to kiss me.

    "Serena! Breakfast is ready!"

    Celeste''s voice wakes me in an instant, and I look down at my half-clothed form... What a bizarre dream... And then I hear her knock on the door and I am suddenly gripped by panic.

    "Uhhh! Just a minute!"

    I desperately try to scramble to get dressed, rolling off my discarded clothes a little too enthusiastically and accidentally falling onto the floor.

    The voice beyond the door sounds horribly concerned. "Serena? Are you okay? Do you need help?"

    "I''m fine! I''m just an idiot¡­" I manage to get to my feet, wincing a little as I go to grab my clothing.

    "Hey now, none of that in this house!" Now I''m being chided, I wonder if Celeste would flick me on the head through the door if she could. "We all have days where we wake up on the wrong side of the bed, it doesn''t make anyone an idiot."

    It''s honestly a little sweet, I rush to put on my clothes so I can open the door and see her again... I really am utterly shameless, and probably broken in some important ways. This is Auguste''s wife for gods'' sake! Maybe Theophania was right, maybe Renee was right, and there is something profound to be said about how strange I am. Maybe this is why I don''t want to grow up to be like the Marshal¡­

    I open the door and find that Celeste''s smiling face is pressing on whatever profound thing is wrong with me. "... Your hair is a mess, Mademoiselle Serena."

    My eyes go a little wide, and I quickly reach up to try and comb my curls with my fingers, before Celeste grabs my hand and giggles sweetly. I stop in place, and she takes the opportunity to lead me downstairs, where something smells delicious. Auguste sits at the dinner table with a newspaper in his hands, holding a pencil between two fingers.

    "The last place Jeanne the Magnificent was seen... Hmmm..."

    He doesn''t seem to have noticed us both just yet. Celeste quietly led me to a chair, before sneaking up on her husband and leaning in over his shoulder.

    "I think you''ll find that it was Triumph Square in Central Alesia, love."

    Auguste clearly beams as he writes the answer onto the newspaper, before turning his attention back to Celeste. "Thank you, darling."

    "Hey, I never said it was free advice."

    "Hehe, and I wouldn''t dare skimp on paying you."

    He leans up to kiss Celeste''s cheek, which quickly turns into Celeste kissing him passionately. Which quickly turns to Auguste realizing that I am indeed at the table with them, prompting him to angle the newspaper to hide the two of them from my view. Which I am honestly a little grateful for, seeing how happy the two of them are made my distressing little affections sting. I try to focus on breakfast, figuring that my hosts aren''t likely to take issue with me starting without them while they are currently tonsils deep in one another... Is every morning for them like this? ... Maybe every morning with Her Majesty could be like this?

    I feel the sudden need to stab myself with my fork but manage to resist for my hosts'' sake. It would ruin the mood and the two of them were nice enough to let me into their home, I don''t want to bleed on their tableware... That and despite everything it is a very nice breakfast they''ve prepared for me.

    Eventually they release themselves from their embrace, and Auguste lowers the paper rather sheepishly. "Ah... So how are you finding-"

    "It''s excellent." ... That was far too terse from me, I have to try to be nicer, I want the two of them to be okay being happy together. "Thank you both."

    "You''re very welcome!" Celeste seems to be trying just a little too hard to be enthusiastic, as if she can paper over their little indiscretion with excitement. "... You know, speaking of Triumph Square, we did actually need to get some grocery shopping done. Auguste has a speech today, and I have a meeting of the Women''s Auxiliary Humanist Salon to chair, so we''ll be busy all day, but if you could help us out..."

    ... I¡¯ve never gone grocery shopping in my life. I''m starting to realize I''ve had something of a privileged upbringing, and maybe this is a good step to take towards being at least a little normal. It''s... Certainly more normal than sending people to die, at least. Maybe spending something other than flesh might be healthy for me.

    "I... I think I know how to do that?" I wish I was more confident about this.

    "Hehe, I won''t ask you to haggle or anything. And you can find just about anything you need in Triumph Square so you won''t have to go hunting obscure ingredients. I''ll go write you a list, okay?"

    She quickly left the room, leaving me alone with an obviously quite embarrassed Auguste, who simply mouthed a silent apology to me before returning to his newspaper... Which raises a question.

    "Don''t you and Celeste hate the press? Why do you get the daily paper?"

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there."It''s important to know what the press are talking about, because that lets you know what the rich and powerful think is worth brainwashing people over. Let''s you know what to press on, what to investigate... That and I''m a fan of the crossword."

    "Yeah, I can tell..." I can''t help but poke at him a little bit, hoping to regain at least some manner of stability after that display. "Fun to share it seems."

    "Look, listen! ... My wife happens to know the city very well and also I love her very dearly."

    "For good reason! ... It''s okay, you know. I''ll deal with your affections, they''re a little awkward but you two are genuinely really happy together, and that''s important." I''m trying to convince myself as much as I am Auguste, but oddly enough it seems to be working on us both. "That and it''d be a little hypocritical for me to be against public displays of affection at this point."

    "I appreciate the understanding- Wait, what public displays of affection have you been involved in?"

    I nervously swallow, but mercifully Celeste arrives to cut this line of questioning off at the pass, presenting me with a paper list and a hefty bag of coins. "Here you go! Oh, and get yourself something nice with what''s left over."

    I take the honestly rather heavy purse and the rather long list of needed groceries, and then I take the offer with no small amount of apprehension. "... Something nice? Like what?"

    "Maybe... Some new clothes?" Celeste''s eyes look over to my personal effects, it''s honestly a rather small bag. "I mean, I checked and the only things you have in there is another officer''s dress, some underwear, your sword, and a gun. Which is not much of a fashion accessory, and more to the point might be awkward to wear in public."

    "I assumed I''d be leading an army for a little longer than a month... Besides, there''s nothing wrong with the officer''s dress, is there?"

    "I never said there was! But... While you''re in town, maybe you might like to try something new! I think a color other than blue might be kind to you. Maybe something green?"

    "... I''ll think about it." I slowly rise to my feet, and Celeste plays with my hair just a little bit, fussing over me before I can slip away, blushing. "I... I uhhh-"

    "Sorry, I couldn''t help myself. They are quite lovely curls, Serena."

    A noise escapes my throat. I can''t quite tell what the noise is, but it¡¯s high-pitched and a little bit desperate. I make my retreat from the house, trying my best not to make it a full rout... And I seem to have left my sword and gun behind. I feel naked without having steel at my hip, it feels wrong to not be prepared for a fight at a moment''s notice. I take deep breaths as I wander down the street, I am for the first time in a month not in enemy territory. I am home, this is supposed to be home, I shouldn''t need to kill literally anyone today! I just need to be calm.

    I manage to make my way to Triumph Square, and find that Celeste was not exaggerating when she said I could find anything here. Produce and food stalls stood next to jewelers and clothiers. Even painters are selling their wares in this sea of commerce. It¡¯s loud, it¡¯s full of people, normal people going about their normal days under the watchful eye of a great clock tower. One which would be a good place for a sharpshooter... Come to think of it, there are five entrances to this plaza, five possible angles of attack, this is an entirely indefensible location! ... To go shopping in¡­

    I feel incredibly alone in this utterly indefensible market. Usually I''d have thousands of men at my disposal... No, I know I''m not missing that part, the spending of flesh and the disapproving stares of undisciplined soldiers... If this were a battlefield I''d have Pasche, Xena, and Katarina. Maybe I don''t deserve them, after my castigation, after my failures, after my dreams. Maybe it''s best I don''t have them with me, they should be spared the horror of being made part of my goddess'' monster.

    "Serena!" Before I can finish wallowing in my sudden melancholy, I have some very familiar arms around me, squeezing me tight.

    "Pasche?!" I can recognise her by the feel of her cuirass even before I turn to face her... She looks different with longer hair. "What the heck are you doing here?! ... You didn''t get dismissed, did you? Did something go wrong with the Army of the East in my absence? Oh gods, are we going to be invaded-"

    She simply squeezes me tighter and shakes me just a little bit. "Serena, I just took some leave, that''s all. We''re fine! The new commander was perfectly happy to let me take some time off, said you could probably use a friend or two in Alesia right now."

    "... So, the front is okay? The Marshal said-"

    "We''re okay, Serena. You smashed the Coalition''s forces in the Battle of Alsace, there''s talk the new commander might even be advancing soon, albeit with a little more caution. You did it, you saved Avernia."

    "I-"

    "Saved Avernia, yes! I will not allow anything different to come out of your mouth, Serena!"

    "... I think we might be making a scene, Pasche."

    I only realize it now, but it seems being hugged and shaken by a cuirassier in one of the most public places in Alesia is liable to turn some heads. I hear people talking... But I suppose I am an enemy of the press, some people have learned to think I''m a coward.

    And I remember I''m a threat, in a lot of ways to poor Pasche. "Pasche... I appreciate you coming to see me, but... Are you sure you want to be seen with me? I mean, the press-"

    "You mean those-"

    "Overstuffed men in their overstuffed chairs with their overstuffed ink pots?"

    "... I was going to say ''useless pricks'' but yours sounds a lot more poetic."

    I wince at the vulgarity, this truly is Pasche in my arms. "It¡¯s also a lot less original... But still, you might get hurt-"

    "I simply do not care... I''m your knight, putting myself in danger for you is a given!"

    "Please don''t get shot again while we''re in Alesia!"

    "... I would like to promise that. I truly would-"

    I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her, awkward as it is with her steel attire. "Actually, promise me you''re never getting shot again or I''m not letting go! You slipped out of promising me in Alsace, promise me-"

    "Fine, fine... I promise... You uhhh, don''t have to let go though-"

    "Pasche, you are wearing metal."

    "Oh right... I don''t really have any other clothes."

    "Nor do I! ... We''re very weird girls, aren''t we, Pasche?"

    "I''ve seen what passes for normal and I''m not sure I''d be okay with that."

    "Good girl. Normal is boring." ... Another familiar voice, did Xena follow me here too?

    When I turn to look, I find Xena and Katarina approaching the pair of us. And if Pasche and I''s public little affections drew heads, the semi-naked bear woman who brought a halberd to the market was practically a celebrity. A very scary celebrity... How did everyone find me?

    "Xena? Katarina?! What are you doing here?!" Pasche doesn''t quite let me go, but I can at least turn my head to face the pair of them.

    Xena gives the impression a smug smile without moving her mouth, somehow. "Serena, I told you, I find you fascinating... Besides, I could hardly administer Pasche''s treatments from over a hundred miles away, the moment she went riding off after you I had to follow."

    "And Katarina?"

    "Who do you think carried me to Alesia?"

    "... How is she a human being?"

    Xena walks over and tentatively flicks me in the head, conflicted by the action. "No, bad. Being mean is boring."

    Katarina also walks... Well, bounds over, and offers me her hand to shake, a few Avernian words legible through a bunch of German. "You paid. Follow you.¡±

    I suddenly feel less vulnerable for not having a weapon, though I am now considerably more worried about the prospect of a bloodbath in a public place... No, Katarina and her followers are nice enough sorts, just because they eat people doesn''t make them savages! ... I should probably at least ask where her people are, just in case Auguste starts seeing news stories in the paper.

    "... And your troops?" As I shake Katarina¡¯s hand I give Xena a look, and for once she actually deigns to act as a translator for the two of us.

    "Here. Resting. Guarding." She points out a few people in the crowd, people dressed as butchers... I appear to have a security detail straight out of a nightmare.

    "I see..." I look around at the people who have somehow become my friends... And I smile, because I''m not in this indefensible market alone. "... I don''t suppose you would all be interested in teaching me how to shop for groceries? Because I''ll be honest, I have literally never done it before."

    Pasche nervously coughs, slowly releasing me from her grasp. "I uhhh... I maybe sorta also haven''t ever done it either. I''ll happily accompany you! But I won''t be much help."

    Xena gives something of an amused snort, patting me on the head. "Good girl, asking for help when you need it... I also have never once gone grocery shopping, but it might be a good opportunity to find some reagents I need."

    I look to Katarina, who smiles her dopey smile at me. She probably has no idea what I just asked, but I can already guess the answer. I doubt the bear-wearing cannibal is much for domestic life... But it hardly matters, at least I''ll have company. We''ll figure it out together! And I somehow doubt that anyone would dare try to fleece me when I have a seven-foot-tall, halberd-wielding escort. Maybe this will all go well.

    ... My optimism survived just long enough to see Her Highness come into the square, flanked by guards and looking nervous... Somehow, I doubt she was one for grocery shopping either.

 Chapter Twenty Four

    My time in Triumph Square is a delicate little dance, trying to make sure I remain unseen by Her Highness, but still close enough to keep an eye on her. I have no idea why she''s out here, but I intend to keep her safe no matter what... Even from myself, hence my skulduggery. I flit from shop to shop, greengrocer to greengrocer, buying small parts of my little list at a time, and finding that at each stall, Katarina seems to be angrily growling at the vegetables, genuinely offended by their existence. This dance is a bit awkward, but it is working for my two current goals¡­

    But it fails a third one, as Pasche gently grabs my hand to stop me from wandering again. "Serena? What''s going on, you''re acting weird. Alarmingly weird."

    I run a thumb over the back of her hand, but I doubt she can feel it through her chainmail gloves, or that she''d believe me even if she could. "I''m fine, Pasche. I just-"

    "I may not know anything about grocery shopping, but I do know you well enough to know when something is troubling you..." Pasche squeezes a little tighter, before seemingly remembering her gloves and loosening considerably. "... It''s not me, is it-"

    "No! No no no, Mademoiselle Pasche I am delighted you are here, I truly am!" My eyes slip past her to find Her Highness finish with one market stall and start turning this way. "I just..."

    If I pray to the Gods to get me out of this predicament, will I somehow end up with worse? What could be worse than this?

    Distressingly, I find my answer in the form of the crack of muskets, sudden smoke from the periphery of the stalls... The sound of screaming and hurried footsteps. As it turns out, the Gods don''t need my prayers at all. They are perfectly willing to make everything worse all on their own. Pasche and I cast our eyes to the source of the screams, only to find screams coming from behind us as well, and in three other directions soon after. The noises come from all five entrances to Triumph Square. We''ve been boxed in. And through the smoke I can see that we have been boxed in by Greenjackets, each with their nasty-looking, scalpel-sharp ¡®Leather¡¯ bayonets.

    I quickly ran to where Xena took cover, where Katarina stood tall in her defense, determined to get an explanation for this. "Katarina?! They look like your people, what is going on here?!"

    Katarina shakes her head, mumbling something in German, slipping a few words of Avernian into her foreign gibberish. "Not me, not mine."

    Xena''s eyes go wide, she seems genuinely afraid for the first time since I met her. Quickly, she rushes off to start taking things from nearby stalls, complicated things in glass bottles that I don''t understand, along with things like paint, citrus fruits... This is not the time to have a meltdown, this is the time for explanations!

    "Xena?! What did Katarina say?!" I wish I could restrain my voice, but anything that genuinely terrifies Xena is enough to almost kill me with fright.

    "... It''s a family reunion." She speaks delicately, almost inaudibly quiet, before getting to mixing things.

    And right on cue, the Wolfman enters Triumph Square. The man, the... Thing that shambles awkwardly down the cobblestone streets into the market is almost nine feet tall, wears nothing other than an entire bloodline of stitched-together wolves, and drags a titanic scythe behind him. Sparks follow behind him as the scythe scrapes along the cobbles, small things but almost hypnotic and transfixing. And by his side are vicious Greenjackets, eager to join their brothers and sisters in the mayhem of the square.

    One such Greenjacket approaches us, eager to carve us into meat, his smile twisted with glee... Until his lips are cut in half with the rest of his head as Katarina brings her halberd down upon him, splitting him like firewood.

    The unfortunate mercenary falls to the ground as Katarina pulls her halberd free, returning quickly to Xena''s side, being her very own brave and noble knight... Katarina destroyed the man¡¯s head entirely. To destroy someone''s head is anathema, the head is where spiritual power is stored. It''s an old tradition, but Katarina is full of old traditions! ... Whatever this is, it has her scared too.

    I realize I''m squeezing Pasche''s hand so tightly now that I''m at risk of breaking my hand, and I slowly slip away from her, mentally preparing myself to do something very, very stupid. "... I have to get her out of here..."

    Pasche, equally terrified, tries to reach for my hand again, but I pull mine away, leaving her as confused as she is afraid. "I... I need to get you out of here, not the other way around! You don''t even have a sword, and I''m your-"

    "Her Highness is in danger! I need to save her!" I find myself shouting shrilly, the growing smoke on the wind makes my voice feel harsh and sharp.

    "Wait, she is? ... Wait, why do we even care?"

    "Because I''m her brave and noble knight, I swore an oath! ... And your general Serena is not someone who goes back on her oaths, is she?"

    "I don''t give a fuck about oaths! I am getting you out of here-"

    Another musket shot, and Pasche winces before drawing her saber and turning to face the mercenary who fired at her... And who hit, an obvious little hole in the back of her cuirass has already begun bleeding. Still, Pasche charges forth, slashing her would-be murderer across the gut, spilling his insides over the cobbles... To my shame, this is the perfect opportunity to get away from her, to go to Her Highness and do... Something. Anything to help really. Her Highness is taking cover behind a nearby stall while her guards fight off any Greenjackets who dare come near. At least her guards are competent¡­

    But that can''t save them from The Wolfman.

    As the monster approaches Her Highness the four guards all fire upon him at once, and every shot strikes true. It¡¯s enough to push him back a single step... Before he keeps moving forward, barely even bleeding from the new constellation of lead upon his chest. Two of the guards rush him with their bayonets, clearly hoping that skewering the thing will produce better results. Their heads fall upon the cobbles before they can even make contact, the scythe swings so quickly that it can¡¯t even be seen with the naked eye. Her Highness'' other two guards, shaken by the thing they only half saw, drop their muskets and run for their lives. Both of them are professional soldiers, and they have just reached the limits of military discipline. And having left Her Highness all alone, as the Wolfman approached where she hid.

    I don''t have a musket, or a sword, or much of anything to fight off a creature so brimming with violence. All I have is a bag full of produce... But I made an oath to be a brave and noble knight, I never swore an oath to be a smart one. I reach into my grocery bag and throw a tomato at the creature''s head, maybe if I draw his attention to me he''ll leave Her Highness alone.

    I did not expect him to recoil in horror. With a shriek that could probably collapse a building, he slashes off the canopy of a nearby market stall, using it to wipe any trace of the plant matter from around his lips, looking genuinely quite ill... He¡¯s Katarina''s kin, isn''t he? I guess her aversion to vegetables must run in the family.

    Either way, this gives me some time. Time to rush forward and grab one of the cowardly guards'' discarded muskets, and Her Highness'' hand. She looks up at me with wide, tear-stained eyes, but the moment my hand takes hers she stops crying and quaking, and simply gazes at me with awe.

    "S... Sir Serena?"

    I wish I could be dashing and gallant right now. "W... We have to get out of here!"

    "R... Right!"

    I pull her to her feet, dragging her through the market square. I¡¯m not sure where I can even take her, but I¡¯m certain that it won''t be right here. Right here is where the Wolfman is regaining his murderous composure, making right here a very bad place to be. At this point the powder smoke has grown thick, making it difficult to see what¡¯s ahead of me. The very world around us is twisting and mutating, making its transformation into the world of violence. A world isolated, alone, and brimming with murderous intent. I realize I''m sprinting through spilled blood, and running forth I find a Greenjacket taking his sweet time with a peasant woman. He is cutting off her arm by inches at a time, cackling with each new scream. He hasn''t noticed me yet, too consumed in his little game. I''ve never used a bayonet in my life, but I can at least figure out how to stab the man in the back. With a clumsy thrust, he stops cackling and falls to the cobbles, joining that peasant woman. I might never know if this woman lives or not, but at least she¡¯ll be in less pain.

    I hear steel scraping against cobbles behind us, becoming a wet sound as its source drags along the spilled blood in the square. In a panic I push over one of the market stalls, leading Her Highness through the new path I''ve made for us. In the next row of stalls I find one of Katarina''s disguised butchers, having slit the throat of an opposing Greenjacket. She¡¯s laid him atop a canopy with his head dangling limp down the side. It¡¯s not the most efficient way of draining the man of blood, but in hell you work with what you have. The butcher smiles at me, gesturing at the corpse with her cleaver as if to offer me my preferred cut.

    "R... Run! Wolf!" I barely manage to squeeze the words out. I''m not certain she even understands them, but I figure Katarina would appreciate giving her people some advance warning.

    Behind us we hear crunching wood and the scraping of steel, the Wolfman seems to have stolen my idea... And is still firmly chasing us as his prey. The butcher turns, seeing the silhouette of a hellish beast, giant and terrible, in the smoke. A Thing that can¡¯t possibly be human. And she charges, jumping high and bringing her cleaver down upon the Thing¡¯s neck. A brave and noble gesture, but not a smart one, and certainly not one we are going to stick around to see the aftermath of. I cannot outrun the noise though, the sound of snapping bone and squelching meat¡­ She doesn¡¯t live long enough to scream.

    Her Highness and I are sprinting now, not eager to have whatever just happened to that butcher happen to us. But sprinting to where? ¡­ I know I absolutely shouldn''t pray to the Pentatheon to find a safe place... But what if I pray to Her Majesty? I close my eyes a moment, a split second, begging her to show me the way forward. And the smoke clears for just a moment to reveal the clock tower overlooking the square.

    Her Highness can hide in there! At least until the gendarmes arrived, she could bar the door from any Greenjackets and I can keep The Wolfman busy. With my first bit of hope since the smoke bathed the square I lead Her Highness towards the tower, and try to ignore the feeling of acid in my veins and my painfully shallow gasps for air...

    A Greenjacket stands between us and the belltower, one who is playing with her food a little, carving little shapes in the back of a corpse with her bayonet. She stops upon our approach and grins, two new canvasses just presented themselves to her. I slip my hand free of Her Highness'' and charge, bayonet out and ready.

    ... I know my arm is still attached to me, I don''t think it could hurt this badly if it wasn''t. As I feel the steel tip of my bayonet pierce the Greenjacket my left shoulder screams in pain, her ''Leather¡¯ bayonet slicing through my flesh as easily as water flows.

    I swear I feel it wedged against my bones. My body shakes as I try to process what just happened to me. I have been carved. I always knew this could happen to me, I always knew I was in danger, but only after something lands a blow does one truly understand what it means to have a fellow human intend to kill you. I''m shocked in place, frozen here. The woman is still dying at the end of my bayonet, I am still suffering at the end of hers¡­

    Her Highness pulls the blade from out of my shoulder, grabbing my hand again to pull me away from this eternal instant. She leads me towards the clock tower, apparently thinking much the same as me, but not willing to hide in the tower alone... The sound of shattering cobbles behind us quickens our feet, only growing faster as we approach safety. The once-shambling Thing behind us is ramping up to a sprint. I wish I hadn''t, but I look back to see The Wolfman emerge from the smoke, now smiling in a way only a monster can smile, its teeth more those of a shark than a human being. It raises its scythe slowly this time, savoring the moment it finally kills us both.

    A halberd slams its way into The Wolfman¡¯s chest, causing it to stop in place and turn to face another monstrous figure in the smoke. The Thing speaks in German, and the other figure who must be Katarina answers. Her Highness pulls me into the clock tower just as the primal, visceral screaming begins.

    Her Highness bars the door behind us, and with us notionally being safe for the moment I slump to the ground, holding my arm and wincing... I mustn''t cry. Brave and noble knights do not cry. And I have my princess here, removing a ribbon from her hair and wrapping it around my wound.

    It¡¯s an utterly pathetic bandage, but it is at least a comfort that anyone would care. "T... Thank you-"

    "You saved me!" Her Highness... Theophania is still out of breath, still coughing out the worst of the smoke, and yet her voice sounds so utterly enchanted. "My guards couldn''t save me with guns and bayonets but you... You did it all on your own!"

    "W... Well. That''s just what a brave and noble knight-"

    "I could''ve sworn you were all talk, an admittedly fun charmer, a court jester at best. But you... You''re the genuine fucking article!" I recoil just a little, I didn''t expect a princess to use words like that. "You¡­ You really are Sir Serena!"

    "I... I do my best-"

    "You really are MY Sir Serena! ... This is actually happening; it''s really coming true for me!" She struggles with another coughing fit, hacking up her lungs in between excited, manic giggles.

    I reach out my injured arm and pat her back, but the effort produces nothing but intense agony. "You uhh... Are you okay, Your Highness?"

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    "I''m fine, I''m-" She gives another few hacking coughs before she manages to get some measure of control again. "I''m fine, and I''m your Princess Theophania now. None of that ''Your Highness'' bullshit like you''re some solicitor, some social climber. Hehehe, I''m someone''s princess now!"

    "I mean... Aren''t you technically everyone''s princess?" I''m probably bleeding too profusely for this question to be a priority, but the girl in my midst is honestly a little unhinged.

    "Hehe... I''m nobody''s anything, Sir Serena. Ever since Charles was born and I was no longer heir apparent, literally no one has wanted anything to do with me! People speak to me because they want something from my father, they speak to me when they want me to say something to my brother, the real heir apparent by virtue of allegedly being male. Even father only sees the alliance he might get from selling me off to some man I''ve never met. Someone likely to be a boring old fuck who has never even dreamed of fighting a dragon!" I swallow audibly, realizing just how similar our circumstances once were, and just how differently those circumstances have treated us. "But you... You would fight a dragon just for me! Not for my father, not for my brother, not for some stupid political alliance, some lines on a map! ... It''s me you''re here for. Right, Sir Serena? ... I''m your princess, aren''t I?"

    ... Well, I can honestly tell her that I have no interest in her dad or her brother... I briefly consider the option of bleeding to death in this clock tower. It¡¯s certainly easier than telling a half-lie or giving the sordid, unvarnished truth. I made an oath to be her brave and noble knight, and in no fairy tales did the brave and noble knight want to do unspeakable, blasphemous things to the princesses'' mother. And a fairy tale is what this woman wants, isn''t it? ... Maybe I can use that.

    "I made my oath, to serve you and see you, to be your brave and noble knight... But are you sure you want a knight as pathetic as me? I mean, look at me, bleeding like a pig before you, ruining your ribbons."

    "It is admittedly a little painful to see you hurt like this and to see the great and heroic combats of the stories up close. Usually, the tales gloss over that kind of thing to get to the mushy stuff. But... Getting to attend to my brave and noble knight like this has its own appeals, its own charms! Hehe, getting to have you at my mercy for a bit, while I contribute of course!"

    I feel my wound scream, as if giving its own counterargument to the relatively pathetic ''attendance'' the princess managed. But that''s hardly her fault, she isn''t exactly a priestess of Cotton or anything. She is a pampered, lonely royal who... Just so happens to look a lot like my goddess. She''s looking at me expectantly now, as if she has effortlessly parried any objection to our little fairy tale.

    "B... But also... I am a woman, that must be considered. There has never been a fairy tale about a woman knight and a woman princess, has there? I''m certainly no stranger to being... Bent, but surely Her Highness-"

    "Princess Theophania." Her cheer breaks for only a second for her to scold me, the terminology seems to be a very strict point with her.

    "Surely Princess Theophania would prefer a more... Traditional fairy tale romance?"

    "I genuinely couldn''t care less. No fairy tale has had the stupid politics of our stupid age, nor muskets with bayonets, or Conventions of Humanity, but I still put up with that stuff. Why would your gender be a sticking point? A princess should love her knight regardless of such ridiculous stipulations!"

    Part of me thinks there''s something wrong with Her Highness- Princess Theophania''s argumentation there, that something is being left unsaid... But in my bleeding state it¡¯s hard to catch it. "I¡­ Uhhh-"

    "You said you''re no stranger to being bent yourself... What''s all that about?" There''s suspicion in her voice, but more that of uncovering buried treasure than that of uncovering lies and secrets.

    "We... Well-"

    She kisses me before I can finish. She kisses me incredibly inexpertly; the poor girl does not have a clue what she is doing. Fairy tales don''t tend to go into much detail about such things, not even the most Velvet of them, so her knowledge of what to do seems to be rather incomplete. This is wrong, I need to stop this, I need to push her off me, return her ribbon, bleed out in this clock tower, and not drag my disgraceful self any further into the annals of history¡­

    But when I close my eyes, I can almost believe she is Her Majesty... My tongue slips into her mouth, my working hand slithers its way into her hair, holding the back of her head... My wound bleeds gently onto her beautiful white dress, and the rhythmic sound of screams and musket shot outside threaten to spoil the mood.

    If Princess Theophania can hear it then she absolutely doesn''t care, slipping herself away from me and grinning madly, panting as if she¡¯s finally breathing for the first time in years. "... Now what exactly was that, Sir Serena? Tell me exactly what that was, in lurid detail! Write it down so I can read it over and over and over again, tell me what that was!"

    She''s utterly giddy. I feel like my soul has been sucked out of my body. What in the hell have I done to this poor woman; she looks so happy. I''m a blasphemous, disgusting creature, doing blasphemous, disgusting things to the adoring daughter of the woman I love... Maybe there''s some reason that this is okay, some explanation that could absolve me of my guilt. But my bleeding self can¡¯t think of one.

    She has not stopped looking at me, waiting for my answer on what I just did to her. What can I even say? I don''t deserve it, of course, but I pray to Her Majesty that something, anything, will get me out of this.

    "This is the Gendarmerie! Surrender now or we will open fire!"

    ... How does she keep doing it? Both moving Heaven and Lutice to save me and forgiving my horrible transgressions against her. I start to rise, sliding up the wall of the clock tower for support. The Gendarmerie doesn''t know who the enemy is here, they''re liable to just shoot everyone they can find. I need to tell them what to do, I need to-

    "Sir Serena! You are hurt, please rest!" Princess Theophania reaches a hand to my one good shoulder, threatening to try and force me to the ground again.

    "My... My friends are still out in that square. The gendarmes... They''ll need to be instructed who the enemy is. You''re safe, I''ve saved you. I need to save them."

    "Friends?" Princess Theophania seems confused a moment, before trying a different strategy to keep me put, stroking my hair as I get to my feet. "I''m sure your friends will be okay. The gendarmes are here, they''ll save everyone in the square. I¡¯m sure they¡¯d never hurt anyone innocent! ¡­ You''ve already done enough, and your Princess is here! You''ve earned some rest, and some... Attending to."

    The emphasis she puts on those last words puts a shiver down my spine. To my horror, I doubt I''d be able to stop myself if she started something. She even smells like Her Majesty after all... And she''s not a bad girl, just a desperate one. I limp towards the door, struggling to unbar it to let myself leave the clock tower, much to her dismay.

    "Sir Serena! You... You''re my knight! I''m here! You don''t have to go anywhere!" Try as she might, desperation carries in her voice more than enchanted love and devotion.

    I consider scolding her for a moment, trying to break this whole thing at the pass. It might genuinely be the healthiest option for all of us. She shouldn¡¯t be shackled to loving a freak, a monster like me¡­ But I can¡¯t bring myself to break this beautiful something she has found, even if that beautiful something is me.

    I turn my head and give her my most gallant smile before I leave. "I am your knight. And you deserve the best knight there ever was, for this unconventional fairy tale we''re in. The best knight in the world wouldn''t abandon her friends, would she?"

    Something chokes up in Princess Theophania''s voice, as if she¡¯s about to start coughing again. "... Return to me, Sir Serena. Alive..."

    "I promise... I need to return your ribbon, after all."

    "Keep it as a badge of honor. Your Princess commands..." She mumbles those last few words, her resolve to let me leave might break any second.

    I slip out the door and find the gendarmes pouring in from all five entrances, setting up firing lines. Their commander is a young-looking man with long, flowing brown hair and what I must assume someone else would think are gorgeous green eyes. And he seems about ready to shout another warning, as his men prepare to make good on his threats. If they all fire volleys into the smoky market square, who knows if anything within it will be spared.

    I stumble my way to the commander, giving a salute with my still-working arm. "Gendarme commander! I am General Serena Pollineux, and the people in that smoke need your help."

    The commander looks upon me as though I am a ghost, or some kind of cryptid, perhaps unfamiliar with the sight of a woman with wounds wrapped in ribbons. "... I see... Well, General Pollineux, some of the people in that square are causing quite the ruckus. I can''t imagine that you expect me to risk my men trying to help them, correct?"

    "There''s still gunfire coming from inside there! The Greenjackets who started this fight still see fit to shoot at something, so clearly there are some civilians in there still who need rescuing! I know for a fact that some of my associates are still fighting in there, and I will not stand by and let good people, loyal to Avernia get shot by its very own gendarmes!" Admittedly this is something of a lie, Pasche and Katarina are loyal to me rather than Avernia, and Xena... Is Xena, but this man needn''t know that.

    "I appreciate that you have friends in there. I have friends among my men, and I''m not going to risk them going bayonet to bayonet in that smoke!"

    "It''s your duty to protect people!"

    "It''s my duty to protect Alesia."

    This is going nowhere, I cast my magic upon him and all the gendarmes in attendance, that ought to get them to act heroically. I feel my spell take hold... And feel my entire body go cold, my wound feeling tighter and... Hungrier. Perhaps this is an entirely reasonable reaction to trying to tax my heart for magic while I struggle with a bleeding wound. I fall to my knees, trying to manage this new, profound agony... And the gendarmes charge into the square, ready to save the civilians even if it kills them. My power is working... I try to struggle to my feet, but the pain simply will not allow me to do so... I crawl forward with my one good arm, I have to make sure Pasche and the others are okay.

    Wandering back into the smoke submerges me in a feeling of intense dread. I am consciously choosing to return where people cannot live, crossing the threshold into a world alien to the one of human beings. It still causes a little apprehension, no matter how many times I¡¯ve done it. I scramble my way through the market stalls, smoke in my eyes and spilled blood all over my hands. I have to struggle to breathe as little as possible, there is nothing worth breathing here. As my vision begins to slowly fill with tears I see a figure in the distance, and I crawl closer to see if they are a friend¡­

    It''s a blonde young woman, dressed like an Icenian gentleman ready for an opera. And she appears to be looking at paintings, leisurely taking her time, considering them closely. After some umming and erring, she picks one seemingly at random, taking out a small knife and carving it delicately from its frame, hiding it under her cloak... I must have bled too much, that must be what is happening here. My brain is simply making nonsense of the things it¡¯s seeing in its final moments, starved of air and blood. I am simply breaking three different oaths is all, what I am seeing clearly isn''t happening.

    My vision of the woman is broken as a Greenjacket flies past my eyes. By the time he hits the ground, a bleeding wound on his forehead, the well-dressed art thief is gone from the world... I turn my attention to more important things, like where that Greenjacket just flew in from. I turn my head and am greeted by the sight of Pasche on the ground, atop what appears to be an officer among the Alemannian mercenaries, hitting them over and over and over again. With the chainmail in her gloves. Every punch Pasche gave is definitely lethal... And yet she doesn''t stop, even when the bones begin to crack and the blood starts staining her white gloves red. I crawl my way over to her, and reach out to tap her shoulder, allowing myself to collapse onto the ground without my working arm to support me. She turns, about ready to throw another punch¡­

    And then she starts to cry. "S... Serena?! ... Where the hell were you?!"

    "Being... A brave and noble-" I can''t even finish my spiel before Pasche pulls my body upwards into a sitting position, one where I can be at her eye level.

    "You... You just disappeared! I was so scared! I went looking for you, and all I found were these fucking cannibals! I thought you were already gone! ... I thought I''d failed you."

    I look down and notice a few more holes in her cuirass, the poor girl seems to be having as bad a time of this as I am. "... I had to save the Princess... I''m sorry."

    "I don''t... I don''t understand you sometimes. You tell me not to get myself shot for you, and then you risk your life completely unarmed to save some woman we don''t even know! ... It''s very you, but in an infuriating way rather than a cute one!"

    "Oh, and good job not getting shot!" Somehow my voice manages to rise from ''one foot in the grave'' to merely ''mauled and suffocating'', I was not expecting to have to fight my second-best friend in this damn smoke.

    "I leave you alone for five minutes and you have three whole new bullet wounds! All of which are because you were trying to find me, so they''re all my fault too, aren''t they?!"

    "Oh, as if you care! You ran off for your little princess the moment the opportunity arose, who cares about little old Pasche?!"

    "I care! I wouldn''t be angry if I didn''t care. I wouldn''t be worried if I didn''t care. I wouldn''t have dragged myself back into the smoke if I didn''t care!"

    "Yeah, well... I''d have dragged myself back for you too, you jerk!"

    Tension holds only a moment longer, before Pasche hurriedly hugs me, and I reciprocate as best my working arm will allow. I feel the jagged metal of her pierced cuirass, I feel the warmth seeping out of her bleeding wounds... I feel her care... And I feel a tear roll down her cheek onto my head.

    "Pasche..."

    "I just¡­ I don¡¯t want to lose you. Not ever. Never ever ever. I won¡¯t lose someone else I care about again, I won¡¯t allow it."

    "... I know you care, Pasche. I love that you care." Something about saying so feels slimy, like a lie... But it isn''t a lie, is it?

    Pasche manages to stop her crying with that awkward little admission, and rises to her feet, helping me along with her. She hooks her arms under mine to lift me, and I scream in agony as the wound on my left arm begs for relief that simply is not here. Pasche finally notices the wound, and almost recoils from me in shock.

    "They... They got your arm?!"

    "Almost..."

    "Why the fuck is there a ribbon tied to it?!"

    "Princess Theophania wanted to help."

    "She what- ... She''s what?"

    "Her Highness wanted to help."

    Pasche didn''t have a lot of time to consider the implications of me being on a first-name basis with the Princess of our nation for very long, as a rather rough-looking Katarina flew through a bunch of market stalls right by us, hitting the cobble street with enough force to crack the stones.

    And walking through the new gap in the market stalls is a slowly appearing vision of hell. Even through the smoke, I can tell the Wolfman is dripping with blood, its red-soaked form entering Pasche and I''s vision. Upon seeing me again it smiles its inhuman smile. Pasche draws her saber to protect me from the Thing that rules this smoke-coated world. Her saber is broken, it had snapped in half in the time she was alone. She steps forward, putting herself between me and the Wolfman. She is about to be decapitated, just like Theophania''s guards. And this time, I don''t have any tomatoes to throw.

    But Xena seems to have her own solution to this problem, throwing a glass bottle at the Wolfman¡¯s chest. Going by the sizzling, crackling noise that accompanies the glass bottle breaking against the Thing''s skin, it seems her solution was a chemical one. A second bottle follows that one, and a third, Xena is pelting the monster with her latest creation. Its flesh starts to melt, sliding off its body in chunks, revealing muscle tissue that looks wholly unhuman, and ribs that are elongated and thick. The Thing recoils with every new bottle... And then the bottles run out. And the Thing breathes, before charging straight at Xena, no longer smiling. It leaps at her, jaws wide and teeth razor sharp, aiming right for her throat.

    It stops in midair as Katarina dives at it and intercepts it in mid-air, punching through exposed, half-melted bone and reaching for the Thing''s heart, crushing it between her fingers. The two of them fell into a heap on the ground right beside Xena, but only one of them rose from it. Katarina slowly gets to her feet, utterly covered in cuts and bruises, with a broken hand and a tattered and slashed bearskin... Looking down at the Thing which had stalked and terrified us, it now appears pathetic and inert upon the cobbles of the street... Katarina speaks a few words to the blood-soaked corpse, before turning her attention fully to Xena, doting on her as best as she can with her own obvious wounds.

    "Playtime''s over... Farewell, brother." Pasche mutters to herself so softly that I''m not even sure if I¡¯m supposed to hear it.

    And as the gendarmes approach, my last thought before my consciousness fades is wondering where Pasche learned German...

 Chapter Twenty Five

    I can''t quite tell whose lips these are.

    The figure atop me could be either Her Majesty or Princess Theophania. They look so similar, and with what little I can see, I can''t quite tell which one the figure is. Perhaps it is both of them, taking turns, or inhabiting a constantly shifting form. I only wish I found that idea more uncomfortable than I did, I really am a shameless, selfish girl.

    And an utterly consumed one. Even as the crack of musket shot and screams of dying Alesians filter in from the world outside this little room I am focused solely on the hand gently touching my chest. It ran a thumb over my skin, letting me know that everything was going to be okay. I would squeal if my lips were still my own.

    Even as blood begins to seep in from under the doorframe, carrying the last warmth of gods-only-know how many people, the figure does not cease. I slowly entwine my legs with theirs, wanting more... And more I am given, feeling her thigh gently press against my wetness. Because it belongs there, this magical feeling can only come from something being ''right''.

    I hear creaking above me, and this finally opens my eyes, looking past the radiant figure that might just be Her Majesty to see the incredibly tall roof above us begin to crack and buckle. Dust starts to fall, which I know will soon be followed by falling stones. The figure atop me finally stops her beautiful little motions, but keeps her attention solely on me. She is smiling down at me, filling my field of view.

    "Do you trust me, Serena Pollineux? Do you trust me with your life?"

    "Serena! Breakfast is ready!"

    Once again the knocking on the door saves me from my treacherous imagination. Celeste''s voice calls me back from... Whatever the hell that dream was. I roll over where I lay, or try to, before the pain in my left arm comes shooting right back into reality. Oh right, it was almost cut off yesterday. Wait, how did I get home? I had passed out in the square, surrounded by my friends, my wound screaming and thirsting... And now I''m here, and it''s morning again, and¡­

    And there''s a substantial wet patch on the sheets beneath me... I suddenly think back to my time in the Academy with Lazierte, with our little mutual worshiping of Her Majesty. At least now I know the figure in my dream must have been my goddess.

    "It simply had to be... No one else can make me feel like this, right?"

    "Huh? Serena, are you okay?"

    Pasche? Pasche¡¯s voice filters in from behind the door, along with Celeste¡¯s... I have to be ready for a crowd when I finally make it outside this room. If I make it outside this room, rising to my feet is proving intensely difficult with only one working arm, one screaming wound, and a rather profound weakness in my legs.

    I hear someone scrambling for the door, and I realize with a panic that I haven''t answered Pasche''s inquiry. "I''m okay! You don''t need to come in, I''m not quite dressed!"

    "Oh... Okay- Wait, I thought you said that wasn''t an issue before." Pasche had said before I couldn''t be deceitful to save my life, and it seems she has a point.

    "Wait... You''ve seen Serena naked? When? Why?!" Celeste seems genuinely a little incensed, something which is both strange and weirdly reassuring to me.

    "Hey, it wasn''t like that! I swear, we just bathed together- Wait, why do you care?!"

    "Of course I care! Serena''s a precious sort, I want to make sure she''s not getting involved with a bad crowd."

    "I could say the same about you! You and your husband are pretty prominent political figures, surely associating with you is just going to put my girl- My general in danger!"

    "Less danger than letting her sleep on the streets. Where exactly were you when she needed a place to stay, Mademoiselle Pasche?"

    "Oh, don''t even go there! I was still a day''s hard ride away from Alesia! ... I''ve known Serena longer than you!"

    "Oh yeah? Tell me at least three things about her then."

    "... You first!"

    The voices behind the door are strangely silent then, leaving me wondering if they can''t even think of three things about me, or if they simply don''t want to say the things that come to their minds. No matter, their bizarre little bickering gives me more than enough time to get dressed, and take a few deep breaths before coming out to greet them.

    "My pre-Avernianized family name is Sophonisba, I¡¯m a fan of fresh seafood, and I really like playing with cats." I roll my eyes at the pair of them, the two of them still staring at each other sharply.

    "... Yeah, cats sound right..." Pasche... No, Celeste... No, both of them say that, which confuses both of them and diffuses the tension just a little.

    Which is enough for me to get a word in edgeways. "Now, one of you mentioned breakfast?"

    "Right! Let me help you down the stairs-" Celeste motions to take my working hand¡­

    Before it is swatted away by Pasche, who motions to take it instead. "I think Serena would be happier having me do that-"

    I make my own way down the stairs, it''s the only way to not make either of them lose... And I am rather peckish, so I''d prefer to not wait for whatever is happening between them to resolve itself. They both follow me down the stairs, seemingly still sniping at one another silently as I make my way to the dining room. Auguste sits at the table with his newspaper, Xena sits on the opposite end. Katarina sits on the floor next to Xena, looking a little distraught despite Xena''s gentle little pats to her head... She really is a dog sometimes.

    "Xena... What''s Katarina doing on the floor?"

    Xena studies me closely, as if trying to diagnose some illness. "You were almost killed yesterday and the first thing on your mind is Katarina sitting on the floor?"

    "... Yes?"

    "She tried sitting on one of the chairs, but it broke under the weight of her muscle. She''s further displeased because she tried helping in the kitchen earlier and broke one of the cutting boards. Apparently, the furniture here isn''t designed to withstand her strength." Xena''s eyes briefly glare at Auguste, as if this is entirely his fault for not accommodating the presence of whatever Katarina is.

    He simply hides a little further behind his newspaper, clearly quite scared of the pair of girls sitting at the other end of the table. "... So uhh... Nine down, ''Jeanne''s coalition was formalized here.''..."

    Celeste behind me finally exits her little staring match with Pasche and bounds to Auguste''s side, and I realize we''re about to get a repeat performance of what happened yesterday. "That would be the Glass Garden, darling."

    "Glass Garden... Fits perfectly! Thank you, love."

    "Hey, I never said it was-"

    "... We have guests..."

    "..."

    "..."

    Auguste eventually relents, kissing an enthusiastic Celeste and being faced with a barrage of affection, one which the newspaper can barely contain. I look apologetically over to Pasche, Xena and Katarina, and find the latter two absorbed in their affectionate little puppy play, whispering together in German.

    Pasche meanwhile only has her eyes on me... Specifically my dress buttons. "... You did these up wrong..."

    I look down and find that Pasche is entirely right, it seems I mixed up a few buttons trying to get dressed quickly with only one hand. A silly mistake, I reach down to try to correct it-

    And my hand is swatted away by Pasche, who starts working my buttons right at the breakfast table. "I swear, what would you do without me, Serena?"

    ... There''s a desperation behind her voice, a need to be useful to me... But more to the point, she''s undressing me at the table, and as shameless as Celeste could be with Auguste, this is a little abnormal, isn''t it? Even if it was just to neaten me up, something about it feels a little too... Intimate. Not quite in the purview of best friend behavior... No. No this has to be normal. Pasche is doing it, Pasche is okay with it, so it has to be okay. She is my second best friend after all, so what she does simply has to be normal.

    "Okay, breakfast is-" Theophania''s voice filters in from the kitchen... Theophania is here? "... Served?"

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    Everyone at the table suddenly turns their attention to their actual princess, who is currently struggling a few serving platters and a very confused face. A mixture of expressions greet Her Highness, who simply puts the dishes down on the table and takes a seat across from me, clearly having the weirdest morning of her entire life.

    "... My knight, you certainly have some... Very interesting friends." She tries to nervously giggle off this atmosphere, but it''s clear that there''s still something of a tension weighing on her, just like everyone else.

    "I''ll... Take that as a compliment." I nervously chuckle, before trying to take up a fork with my hurt arm... Which the pain makes clear to me is simply not going to happen.

    "Serena! You''re still hurt, please..." Pasche seems genuinely quite upset with me, as she cuts up a morsel of food, offering it to me on the end of a fork. "Don''t exert yourself... Let your knight handle this."

    That feeling again, that feeling that this might not quite be as normal and friendly as best friends are supposed to be... But Pasche is okay with it, so it has to be okay. Just like with Lazierte. I take the little morsel in my mouth, just a little flustered in the cheeks despite how absolutely normal this simply has to be. I mean, I am wounded, this makes sense... Right?

    Theophania quickly cuts up a morsel and offers it to me in turn, almost violently. "Well, I personally think a princess should be the one attending to her own knight, thank you very much!"

    ... If accepting food from friends is normal it would be abnormal to play favorites, so I take Theophania''s offered morsel as well, and I make absolutely certain to smile. I have to appreciate the little things my friends are doing for me, that''s important, that''s normal... Maybe if I act normal enough my cheeks will stop being so red.

    "Now now girls, please... Serena is my guest, I should be the one to attend to her." Celeste, who has apparently allowed Auguste to go free, cuts up a little morsel and offers it my way, much to Pasche and Theophania''s mutual shock.

    And I eat this one too, this is perfectly normal host behavior for their guest, absolutely. Which means I have to treat it like it is normal. I have to smile, take the morsel, try to ignore the fact that Celeste smells utterly divine, even from here... Something really must be broken in my brain for such normal things to make me feel so warm.

    "You idiots have absolutely no idea how to care for a wounded woman." Xena pinches the bridge of her nose, before cutting up a little morsel and offering it to me. "Let the doctor handle the patient, please."

    I take this one too, and I half expect to not get these same, abnormal feelings from such perfectly normal doctor behavior for their patient. Xena is probably the one who tied this bandage around my arm after all, she''s probably the reason it didn''t have to be amputated. I owe her some normalcy, I owe her a smile. Why do I still feel warm?

    There are a few excited words in German, followed by a rather large morsel being roughly put in front of my face by a Katarina with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. I stare at it for a moment, honestly a little confused¡­ Her fork-holding hand is still wrapped in bandages from yesterday. I can still see one of her finger bones poking out of her skin.

    "Xena... Why is Katarina-"

    "She saw everyone else do it and she wants to feel included. Just play along." There is clearly an implied ''or else'' from Xena, making that request an order.

    I take the mouthful, which seems to make Katarina happy, which in turn makes Xena happy, even if it doesn''t show on her face. This is... Entirely normal mercenary-to-client behavior? ... So long as she isn''t serving me human meat, I think I can count my blessings and appreciate the normalcy of being fed by the seven-foot-tall Thing that my friend and doctor is... With?

    Finally, Auguste rather awkwardly cut up a morsel, hesitantly offering it to me. "... I''m technically your host too so it would be remiss of me not to offer you something... Apparently."

    I look at the offered morsel and the sheer reluctance in Auguste''s face, and I know I can''t justify this to myself or to Her Majesty, this is simply weird. "... I''m actually full but thank you for the offer."

    Auguste withdraws the offered fork with obvious gratitude, taking to his own plate and seriously considering what must have gone wrong in his life for a self-proclaimed knight, a self-proclaimed doctor, a self-proclaimed human, and an undeniable Princess to be having breakfast at his table, all doting upon a failed general. Mercifully the morsels stop after that... But that doesn''t stop the girls on either side of me from playing with my hair.

    "Serena, you have the worst case of bedhead that I''ve ever seen. Come on, let me untangle this a bit-" At least Pasche isn¡¯t wearing her chainmail gloves¡­

    "Hey, I think Serena''s hair is at its best when it''s rather messy! ... But it''ll look even nicer with just a bit of attention." Celeste leans in closer¡­ Dangerously close¡­ Gods no, please¡­

    Celeste and Pasche''s little contest seems liable to tear me in half, as each one pulls gently on my hair in their attempts to style it to their preference.

    Theophania is utterly fuming at the other end of the table, eating what must be an incredibly humble breakfast by her standards while looking on with clear jealousy. Xena shakes her head at the pair of girls pulling and tugging at me... Speaking of hair¡­

    "Hey, Xena... What became of the ribbon that was tied around my wound?" I had been commanded to keep it by Princess Theophania, I''d like to hope I hadn''t failed her very first command just because I nearly died.

    "That pathetic excuse for a bandage? I removed it and replaced it." Xena''s casual callousness seems to cut through Theophania''s clear annoyance and humbles her into mere sadness.

    "... But what did you do with the ribbon after?"

    "It didn''t seem important; I threw it away-"

    "Hey, Princess Theophania gave me that ribbon, it was important!" I almost stand, but two pairs of hands are keeping me seated as they play with my increasingly doted-upon hair.

    "So the Princess was the one who put that thing on your wound?" Xena looks over to Princess Theophania, who looks about to cry... And Xena slowly rises to her feet and looks down at Theophania with her typical dull eyes, before flicking her forehead. "Incorrectly performed first aid can be genuinely harmful. I had no idea where that ribbon had been, it might''ve caused an infection if it wasn''t properly sterilized."

    "... Sterilized? What does-"

    "It means free of germs."

    "... You''re still speaking words I don''t understand but I just wanted to help, I''m sorry-"

    "Yes, well, the first step is wanting to help... But that''s just the first step." Xena has taken Theophania''s attention from me, in a way that belies her bizarre powers of sincerity. "... You care about Serena, right? You want to be able to help her?"

    "I do... She''s my knight, I have to-"

    "None of that. Do you want to be able to actually, truly help her?"

    "... I do."

    "Then I will teach you everything I know."

    The two girls enter their own little world as Xena, patient as anything, takes to teaching Princess Theophania proper first aid techniques, about the importance of sterilization, and of wound and patient management... And Theophania seems to actually take it on board, listening to every word, only occasionally sneaking a glance my way before being brought back to the topic by Xena. It¡¯s weirdly heartwarming... Certainly more so than seeing what has become of my hair, as Pasche presents me with a mirror, clearly proud of exactly her half of my new hairstyle.

    ... I¡¯m utterly asymmetrical! The two girls clearly have very different visions of how my hair should be, and quite incompatible ones at that. I¡¯m appalled, but... Playing with my hair has to be completely and totally normal and not even slightly intimate, so I am obligated to smile.

    "Wow... It sure is-"

    "Mademoiselle Pasche, you went and ruined it. Look what you''ve done to my poor Serena."

    "Me? You''re the one who decided my girl- General needed braids! Braids are for schoolgirls, not generals!"

    "The great warrior kings and queens of old wore braids in their hair."

    "Yeah, well, Serena''s not an old lady!"

    "Are you implying something, Mademoiselle Pasche?"

    ... I pray to Her Majesty once again, hoping she will spare me from my second best friend and my unsettlingly attractive host¡­

    And she delivers once again... In the dumbest way possible, as General Malmo walks into our dining room, with a less-than-pleased Auguste leading him through. "Ah, Mademoiselle Pollineux- ... And Her Highness. And Monsieur Pasche. And..."

    Katarina looks at him curiously before giving him a big, toothy smile, which makes every single hair on Malmo''s body stand on end. He looks pale, and his eyes quickly dart to every exit to the room he can find before he can finally calm himself.

    "... How did you find me here, Malmo?" I must confess to being displeased at him having apparently tracked down my location, I was hoping to minimize the amount of Malmo in my life while in Alesia.

    "It wasn''t hard to see where the hero of Triumph Square was taken after her brave charge with the Gendarmerie into the smoke of battle. The papers are saying you personally slew a monster, and that you saved over a dozen civilians from the blades of Alemannian mercenaries. You weren''t exactly subtle, mademoiselle Pollineux."

    ... The papers are saying nice things about me? Will that maybe be enough for me to be able to see Her Majesty again?! I almost bounce out of my seat in joy, I might possibly see the Queen again! I can see the one person for whom my feelings always make sense! I can maybe even... Talk with her more. I can maybe even¡­

    Malmo looks upon my excitement with an obvious derision, clearly still displeased about a great many things probably. "And here I thought you didn''t much care for what the papers said..."

    "And what precisely are you doing here, Malmo?" Pasche gets to her feet, ready to stand off against General Malmo and come to my rescue. "I''m pretty certain Serena here isn''t interested in talking to you, not after that bullshit you pulled with your ''testimony''."

    "Ah, I am merely a messenger today... Antoine Pollineux has returned to Alesia for a brief bit of leave. After over two years of nobly fighting the Magyars in Samnia he wants to take a few days to settle some personal affairs. And seeing as you just so happen to be in Alesia, he wishes to see you today. A little family reunion."

    I shudder just a little, hoping this one goes better than the last ''family reunion'' I was party to. Still, my eldest brother is in the city? It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve seen any member of my family, him most of all... I wonder if he''s still as dramatic and pretentious as I remember. I almost hope so, it¡¯ll be a nice bit of nostalgia to hold on to.

    I do something I never once thought I would do and give General Malmo a smile. "I think I''d like to see him again. Thank you, General Malmo."

    "You''re most welcome, Mademoiselle Pollineux... Oh, if you need to have your hair looked at, I happen to know an excellent hairdresser nearby, a personal friend of mine who might be able to offer you a discount given your... Circumstances."

    Both Celeste and Pasche both looked at each other, then to the abomination they made out of my hair... Before grinning together, turning to the other General in our midst, and with one voice shouting. "Fuck off, Malmo!¡±

 Chapter Twenty Six

    It''s a lot harder to complain about my brother when I''m right next to him, it must be said. As he practically leaps up from his chair to embrace me, it''s hard to not let it all fall away. The inadequacy issues, the shadow I live within, the everything the world makes me think of him, all these things are as see-through as glass when faced with his genuine enthusiasm.

    And his genuine lack of consideration, as my arm hurts when he squeezes me. "Oww! Brother, I''m still injured!"

    "Ah!" He just as quickly lets me go, and instead offers his hand for my good one to shake. "Forgive me, it''s simply been almost three years and-"

    I step forward and embrace him, with my one unhurt arm, on my own terms. "It''s good to see you, Antoine. Reading all those dispatches almost made me forget you even knew how to smile."

    "Hard to get away with writing all the funny quips and cool lines in the after-action reports I''m afraid. The High Command looks down on such things. No fun allowed on a battlefield according to the powers that be."

    "Is the battlefield supposed to be a place of wit and whimsy, brother?"

    "I don''t see why not, why shouldn''t you be witty everywhere?"

    My brother, the eternal thespian, the eternal optimist... "I feel like I have a friend you might like. If you don''t mind that she''s seven feet tall."

    "Oh, don''t even talk to me about women, Serena." He slowly takes his seat again, playing perfectly the role of a lovelorn man. "I happen to have enough troubles on that front with my latest little love."

    "So there really is something you can''t do... I had only ever speculated."

    "How droll... Actually, you might be able to help me with this one, Serena!" He enthusiastically gestures for me to sit across from him, suddenly quite animated.

    Which leaves me remarkably suspicious, but not enough to immediately refuse. "How precisely would I be of any help in you dating a woman, brother?"

    "Well... You are a woman yourself; you might know what you''d like to see in a man."

    As little of one as possible, naturally, but I can hardly tell Antoine that... Can I? "... I suppose I technically do, yes."

    "And you were at the Academy with the other Comrade Witches, so you might even know the object of my affections!"

    That was unlikely. I didn''t really make many friends at the Academy, even if I turned a lot of heads with my completely normal conduct. They were all rather odd ducks there, and while I was certainly cordial... I doubt I could remember any of their names, other than of course-

    "Did you happen to know a girl named Lazierte? A beautiful girl with a beautiful collarbone, with so dry and fiery a countenance that it draws you in and sets you alight? Ring any bells?"

    ... Lazierte was sent to be a colonel in my brother''s army, this was true... But surely she didn''t... Surely they didn''t! "Umm... I may happen to know her, yes..."

    "Oh good! Then you might be able to help me! You see, she rebukes my every advance, she parries my romantic gestures, and she utterly ignores all of my poems! It''s utterly infuriating I must say, and I''m near my wits end trying to find the perfect way to make her feel for me what I feel for her!"

    Well, I suppose there is technically a chemical solution for that now, but I imagine my brother is disinclined to go that route... "Brother, I must confess, I was in fact Lazierte''s best friend at the Academy. And I can tell you now, she''s not going to be receptive to your advances, ever."

    "W... What?" Antoine seems to be grappling with the concept of the impossible for the first time in his entire life... Even though it happened to be the exact same thing he grappled with the last four times he had a crush on a cute girl. "What do you mean? That I''m not charming enough? I''ll become more charming! That I''m not an attractive enough specimen of a man? I''ll do push-ups! ... Are you suggesting she doesn''t like her lovers black? Admittedly we can''t change that one, either one of us..."

    My hand reaches for my cheek, remembering the kiss she left upon it. "I don''t think it''s that last one, brother..."

    "Then what? What must I do?"

    ... Would it be okay to simply tell him that Lazierte is bent? I mean, if he doesn''t know by now, it means she never told him. And if she never told him it''s because she doesn''t want him to know. Surely then it''s not something I should just be announcing to him without her consent... But then how do I get my brother past this? Lying? I can''t lie to save my life!

    ... But maybe I can tell half-truths? "Lazierte already has someone special to her, brother. She''s already taken."

    "Really? Who is he? I''ll fight him for her hand!" Antoine looks about ready to kick over the cafe table and draw his sword to go fight... Her Majesty, if he ever found out my meaning.

    "They aren''t exactly someone you can fight, brother."

    "What, is Lazierte deeply religious? I will happily aim my cannons at the heavens and tell those celestial cowards to-"

    "No no no no! It''s... Haaah. Look, just drop it, okay?"

    "No can do, sis! This is the love of my life we''re talking about!"

    The fifth and counting by my estimate, Antoine''s exploits on Kerska were the talk of the island before he went off to the mainland to become a general. The main weapons in my arsenal are delaying tactics, to wait out his latest little obsession and get him thinking about something else. And since Antoine is raring for a fight anyway¡­

    I get to my feet, and with my good arm I draw my sword and point it right at him. "I''m afraid Lazierte''s secrets are to remain secret, brother. Unless you''re willing to fight me for them."

    Antoine''s determined pout becomes a remarkably happy grin, and he quickly gets himself to his feet. He¡¯s about to draw his own sword¡­ Before he realizes that everyone else in the cafe and on the street are staring at us... I seem to have inherited some of his own incautious qualities, and perhaps he has learned the lessons of Malmo somewhere along the way.

    "Uhhh, Sis... This is a cafe, not back home..."

    "Oh... Right..." I scramble to put my sword away; I¡¯ve been a bit hasty in my efforts to protect my best friend¡­

    "But there''s an alleyway nearby, one where I figured people could go unobserved. We could have our fight there!"

    "... Why are you so well-versed with the alleyways of Alesia, brother?"

    "Oh, I just saw it on the way here and thought ''this would be the perfect place to launch an ambush from¡¯! Once you''ve gotten used to urban warfare it''s difficult to see a city the same way ever again!"

    Antoine''s smile implies that he thinks this is a good thing... To my shame, I know exactly what he means, albeit from the other direction. Where he sees opportunity, I see risk... Maybe this is part of being a grown-up, Antoine is ten years my senior and by far the more accomplished commander. Come to think of it, I don''t think I''ve ever seen a military dispatch about one of his failures... Ever. Almost as if he simply never has failed on a battlefield before.

    I wonder if he''ll ever read reports of my failures one day, and weep for his incompetent little sister. "Right... Then let''s head there."

    The onlookers seem remarkably confused by our good-natured exit together after my rather hasty pulling of a sword on Antoine. Our sibling relationship is a little idiosyncratic in that fashion. Which might be why none of my other brothers or sisters can stand being around Antoine anymore, they simply can''t keep up with his eccentricity... I wonder when I''ll see them again, see Kerska again. See its beaches, swim in the Carthaginian Sea, and eat freshly caught fish. I wonder if I can bring Her Majesty there! ... I wonder how Mom and Dad will react to my bent-ness. They already fought tooth and nail to try to get me out of being sent to the academy, to give me a proper ''noblewoman''s'' upbringing. They¡¯re hardly followers of Wool, sure... But according to Xena and Celeste even those most devoted to Cotton can still be a little Wooly in their thinking.

    "Uhh... Sis? We''re already here."

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.Oh dear, I seem to have been lost in thought the entire walk... And found myself in the perfect alleyway to launch an ambush from. It¡¯s dark and relatively narrow, but with enough space for one person to maneuver fairly comfortably. Possibly enough space for a three-pounder gun, although not enough room to efficiently load one¡­

    "And it''s a perfect fencing piste..."

    "It''s as if this little corner of the city was made just for us!" With his cheer having returned, Antoine draws his sword and walks into the dark alleyway, turning around and gesturing for me to join him.

    I follow, up until the very edge of where light seeps into the space, and draw my own sword in turn. "First hit, and try not to get my left arm, okay?"

    "I promise to try." Antoine is very clearly lying, he¡¯s not capable of showing caution once steel is drawn.

    "And I promise to try not to cut that face of yours, I know you''re quite proud of that smile." I try to share his enthusiasm but honestly, his level of pep is simply exhausting to hold, especially for something like swinging swords about.

    He silently nods his acknowledgment before giving the traditional fencing salute. I copy the motion, and from there it is on. There is no more talking. He takes the first strike, as he always does, and I have to step back immediately to build distance, being pushed further out of the alleyway. This isn¡¯t good, I don''t have a lot of distance to trade for time here, and Antoine is already preparing another strike¡­

    A familiar strike. Even after three years, it seems my brother hasn''t learned many new moves. And even after three years, I remember being hit by all of them. I parry his swing easily and even take a step closer to try and gain some ground, but Antoine doesn''t budge. I try to punish him for it with a quick little thrust, but he simply dodges and brings his blade back down upon me.

    I try to parry, but this one is a more forceful strike. He''s simply physically stronger than me and I can''t hold off his attacks forever. I slip further away, losing more ground, but at least I manage to escape, albeit right at the edge of the alleyway. I have no more ground to lose, I have to hold it... Lazierte''s counting on me.

    Antoine makes a thrust, one last little effort to knock me out of the piste entirely or get a wound on me. One right in the middle of the alleyway, as hard to dodge as possible... But I hug the wall with my body, and while I feel the steel against my skin, making a cut in my officer''s dress, I can tell I am unharmed. I''m not out yet. I swing down upon Antoine, who clearly wasn''t expecting me to still be in the fight after that. In a sudden panic, he steps back, yielding ground. And I follow up with a thrust, able to press the attack for the first time in over a hundred duels.

    Antoine thrusts back, hitting my left arm mere moments before my blow connected with his chest, causing me to drop my sword and hold my wound in pain. I had held back, not wanting to hurt my brother too badly, and that gave him his opportunity. I can''t quite see his face, now that he''s been once again consumed by the darkness in the alleyway, but I can hear his laughter.

    "You... You almost did it! Little sis, you almost won! You even got a hit on me; you''ve grown so much!" He¡¯s utterly ecstatic, his sword clattering to the ground as he rushes over to me, his cheer surviving up until the moment he realizes where he hit me. "O... Oh... I''m sorry sis-"

    "It''s... It''s alright. You won fair and square." I seethe a little, this really does sting... I almost had him, and Lazierte was counting on me, and it seems like he stabbed a lot of old wounds at once with that little trick. "... But I can''t tell you about Lazierte, I''m sorry-"

    "Oh, who cares about that?! I hadn''t had a good fight in almost three years until today! Hehe, let me enjoy it a little longer, sis!" He seems liable to hug me all over again, in spite of my wounds and everything.

    "... Can we enjoy it outside this dingy alleyway?"

    "Ah! Right, of course, just a second." Antoine disappears into the shadows again to reclaim his sword, then leans down to take mine. "I''ll carry these, let''s go somewhere a little less..."

    "Strategically relevant?"

    "Exactly!"

    He sheathes his sword, then slips my own back into its scabbard, before leading me back into the light of the normal world again. I take a deep breath, suddenly quite conscious that I had been taken ''somewhere outside reality'' for a second, a little place made separate from the world I knew by violence. I wonder if my brother feels it too, the return to reality. To normalcy.

    After all, his pep does seem to be draining a little. "... Most of my ''fights'' these past few years, at least the challenging ones, were social ones, I must confess. The Pollineux name was mud when I first arrived at the academy, ''cravens and opportunists'' were what polite society made of us... It took a lot of victories and a lot of putting up with other people''s bullshit to finally get into the position where we are now, where you don''t get grief for being part of our family."

    ... I hold my tongue, I imagine Antoine might be more than a little displeased to learn just how exhausting, how dispiriting, and how depressing it can be to have to live in his titanic shadow.

    "So, I have to appreciate the stand-up fights where I can, the moments where things are actually difficult, where they''re a challenge I understand... I must confess, I despise the backbiting and politics of this stupid city. If it all just fell away, I could simply pursue the things that interest me personally."

    "Like conquering the world?" Like being conquered by Her Majesty.

    "Hehe, I''m sure I''d get on that eventually. Right now, I''m stuck trying to conquer even a single woman. Oh, speaking of-"

    "Brother, I can''t give you any more information about my best friend, it wouldn''t be fair."

    "Dang..." He accepts that awfully easily... He''s planning something. "Then, I suppose I''ll have to take something else as my prize, won''t I?"

    "... I promise I will introduce you to the seven-foot-tall cannibal bear woman I know. I imagine you might hit it off, so long as you don''t upset the Helvetian mad scientist she''s close with."

    "Tempting, but... Wait, cannibal?"

    "I have made some very interesting friends."

    "I envy you. I seem to exclusively make friends with people like Malmo. Useful ones, who I can''t stand. Oh, he asked me for advice on how to date you, funnily enough."

    "... What did you tell him, brother?" My working hand finds itself on the pommel of my sword again.

    "That you are the second-best fencer I had ever even heard of, so unless he can beat me in a fight, he''d best leave you alone. I won''t let you get married off to some social climbing weakling, sis."

    "... That might be the nicest thing you''ve ever said to me, thank you." ... I wonder if Pasche can beat Antoine in a fight... Her Majesty certainly can''t but why would a goddess have to fight for little old me? "So, should I make introductions-"

    "Actually, I had a different prize in mind." Reaching into his coat pocket, Antoine produces a rather ornate-looking letter, with a broken royal seal still hanging off it. "The Royal Family has invited me to a little soiree they''re throwing in the Glass Garden tonight, on a night where I have business with some friends in The Convention. But I can''t exactly insult the King by simply not showing up, so... I figured perhaps you might be able to go in my place, represent the Pollineux family at the Royal Palace."

    And there it is... He¡¯s had that thing in his pocket the entire time, he must have been planning to foist this responsibility on me somehow- Wait... "... Will Her Majesty be there?"

    "I mean, yeah the Queen will be- Wait, Her ''Majesty''?"

    "I''ll do it!" I take the invitation from his hands with a frankly startling amount of violence. "Hehehe, thank you, brother."

    "... If I had known you''d be this into the idea I''d have taken that opportunity with the Bear Woman too... But I suppose it is still something of an imposition. After all, you''ll need a proper dress for the occasion."

    "What''s wrong with my officer''s dress?"

    "Well, one, it''s an officer''s dress. And two..." He pokes at my belly, revealing the cut in my usual clothing. "Someone seems to have torn it. With a sword."

    "Haaah... But I have no money for dresses!¡± Or anything¡­"

    "Malmo offered to cover it. He happens to have friends who sell dresses, and friends who style hair if you were interested-"

    "Fuck off, Malmo..." I mumble it under my breath, I can''t help it, that little moment of Pasche and Celeste cooperation is simply ingrained in my mind now. "... I''d really rather not lean on Malmo. For anything. Ever."

    "I suppose I understand... And I am springing this on you last minute, so..." My brother produces a purse near bursting with coins and presents it to me. "Here. Be the prettiest thing in the Glass Garden. Nothing less for a Pollineux."

    "Someone''s doing well..." I take the purse and am aghast at the sheer weight of the thing, having difficulty tying it to my sword belt with one hand. "I imagine that''s just a perk of having friends in The Convention."

    "The Aeduian Restorationists do admittedly have a lot of capital and are able to reward friendship considerably... But I do think it''s in the best interests of our family to maintain good relations with the Royals as well. That way we have allies no matter how this little ''separate but united'' arrangement shakes out. I imagine I can leave the regal side of things to you, sis."

    ¡°You certainly can, I can at least understand that part¡­ Brother, what do you see in the Aeduian Restorationists anyway? I¡¯ve only heard bad things.¡±

    ¡°I see money and I see favors. And I see the winds of change¡­ It¡¯s simply the path of least resistance to go with the winning team.¡±

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t care what they¡¯re planning to do to Avernia?¡±

    ¡°Sister, I don¡¯t even understand what they¡¯re planning to do to Avernia. Something about democratically elected local representatives moderated by an appointed Senate with veto power. When they tried to explain it to me I nodded and smiled as if I knew what they were talking about, and I took their money.¡±

    ¡°¡­ That doesn¡¯t feel especially healthy for¡­ The world in general.¡± Even if I can completely sympathize with him being utterly overwhelmed by it all.

    ¡°It¡¯s healthy for our family. Even if I¡¯m certain Father is going to take personal offense going from a ¡®Count¡¯ to a ¡®Minister¡¯. He¡¯s still more bitter than he lets on about no longer being a Grand Duke.¡± Antoine gives a little smirk, a conspiratorial little whisper. ¡°Maybe the old goat might finally consider retirement, and I could try my hand at winning an election.¡±

    "And here I thought you hated being a political opportunist, brother."

    Antoine suddenly turns serious, an expression his face bears surprisingly well. "I hate being called one to be sure, but only the guilty are above reproach. Remember that, Serena. It took some painful months for it to be ingrained in me."

    Another part of being a grown-up I suppose, like wearing fancy dresses and dealing with politics... But my brother¡¯s scheming will get me closer to Her Majesty, even if only for a night, so I suppose I can accept being a grown-up for now. Now I just have to figure out how one even shops for clothing, much like groceries it''s something beyond my expertise.

    Celeste did say I''d look nice in green...

 Chapter Twenty Seven

    I did not expect to find a dress that specifically compensates for my bandaged arm, but I guess Avernian upper society has its quirks. Nor did I expect a single fancy dress to cost almost that entire absurd purse that Antoine gave me, leaving me without enough to buy shoes. I pray no one looks down at my feet and notices I¡¯m wearing my marching boots to this party. I doubt this is particularly ''hoity toity'' of me but they are the only shoes I have, and I need to be here and... Will Her Majesty look at me like a freak for this? Like an uncultured weirdo? Like a disgraceful peasant who can''t even afford stupid, fancy shoes?

    My eyes drift upwards, as if the stupid glass structures above my head might hold the answers in their endless dance of color. Stained glass mosaics, chandeliers, little mirrors, a sea of utterly disorienting light which would be pretty if it wasn''t overwhelming. And empty. I find no answers up there, just a little more anxiety. Am I supposed to be impressed by it? Is the fact I¡¯m not impressed a sign I shouldn''t be here? ... Is Antoine better in places like this?

    I am a depressed, slumped creature, stalking the grandest ballroom in Avernia... At least until my eyes catch a glimpse of Her Majesty. Now I¡¯m faced with the opposite problem, having two new and different energies overpowering me. One which wants to run towards her, and one which wants to flee¡­

    "I''ve gotten some good headlines, maybe I won''t be a threat-"

    My thoughts are cut off by Her Majesty''s eyes finding mine and lighting up considerably. She... She¡¯s happy to see me! ... She is in fact very happy to see me, she makes her excuses to the well-dressed sycophants taking her attention and rushes to me at the highest speed polite society allows.

    "Y... Your Majesty-"

    Before I know it, she is hugging me. And I try my absolute hardest not to cry. Both at the sheer feeling of unbridled beauty that I feel from the very first time I have ever touched Her Majesty, and from the tearing pain of my left arm as she holds me tightly. It''s okay, she doesn''t know I am wounded, it''s okay... She''s touching me, and I won''t let a little thing like pain keep me from that.

    "You... You saved my little girl! It''s all over the papers and... Thank you!" Her Majesty looks about to cry herself, giving me an agonizing, beautiful, soft, and plush squeeze.

    "A... And I would do it again." I try my best to project confidence and flair, but it¡¯s difficult to be anything but worried about how much Her Majesty might know about my interactions with her daughter. "... She returned home okay?"

    "She did, eventually. She didn''t even tell me she was leaving!" Her Majesty''s hold is still tight, I worry she might reopen my wound at this rate... But I can''t tell her to stop. "... All I know is that you were the one who saved her, she told me herself when she returned today."

    "Oh! ... What precisely did she tell you about-"

    "Let''s not get into that, Mademoiselle Pollineux." Her Majesty slowly detaches herself from me, looking away for a moment... But just a moment. "Regardless... Thank you. Dearly. For your service to my family."

    "You''re... You''re welcome."

    This feels weird, this bittersweet praise. I don''t want to serve her family, I want to BE her family! But... I want to make her happy too, and this absolutely did that... Serving her family... Will she be happy if I defend her husband in the way I defend her? I don''t want to consider that possibility, but¡­

    "You''re certainly doing a better job of protecting me than my useless husband... Ah, don''t tell anyone I said that." Her Majesty''s nervous little giggle is angelic, but I hate that the world might dare make her nervous.

    "I would rather die than spill your secrets, Your Majesty! I would rather be eaten by a troll or crushed inside a golemized loom than dare violate your confidence! I would-"

    "Hehe, I get the point." Her Majesty gives a less awkward, more genuine laugh, and in this moment Her Majesty is more radiant than any lights above me. "You really are a spirited girl, Mademoiselle Pollineux. Whatever you do, you do with such sincerity!"

    "I... Well, I can have no secrets from you, Your Majesty." My smile is an anxious one¡­ In spite of Her Majesty''s clear joy, she has yet to call me ''Serena''.

    "Hehe..." There isn''t as much amusement behind that giggle, it carries a bitterness I am not privy to. "I only wish we weren''t in ¡®polite¡¯ company; I could be more candid. More sincere."

    "... Are you afraid of prying eyes and listening ears?"

    "Yes... There are rumors enough that I''m a scheming foreign harlot without being rather wantonly open with a General. It''s that you saved my little girl that I can risk being even this close I''m afraid. No one would judge a mother hugging her daughter''s savior that harshly." I realize now that she''s making a concerned effort to whisper quietly, while trying not to look like she¡¯s whispering.

    If she was anyone but Her Majesty I doubt I''d be able to hang on her every word like this. "... How much leeway do we have?"

    "Mademoiselle Pollineux, I didn''t take you for a greedy sort!"

    "W... Well!" I suddenly realize just how loud I¡¯m being, and try my absolute hardest to emulate her little whispers. "I just so happen to value your attention more than the gossiping of these... Grown-ups."

    "Hehe, I''m a grown-up too, you know."

    "Not one of them. Not to me, Your Majesty."

    She looks down, but I swear I see a blush upon her cheeks. Something that surely couldn''t just be my imagination, something which must be real! ... She''s just so gorgeous, I can¡¯t help but adore her even when her eyes are directed to the floor before me... The floor... She¡¯s going to see my shoes! Oh gods oh dear oh heck!

    "I... I can explain-"

    Her Majesty''s tone seems to waver a little as her eyes catch my footwear. "Look at what my castigation has done to you... You can''t even afford proper shoes."

    "W... Well they are pretty expensive, but-"

    "I''m sorry, Serena."

    "No!"

    My shout is louder than I intend for it to be, but I don''t care if I catch every eye in Alesia right now, I will not allow Her Majesty to be sorry! She is my goddess, everything she does is entirely necessary, so she doesn''t need to be sorry! And everything I''ve done was to let us have this moment... Everything¡­

    I reach under Her Majesty''s chin and pull her head upwards, bringing her eyes back up to mine. "Don''t be sorry. I am here for you, so you never have to be sorry."

    "S... Serena..." For a brief moment, she seems genuinely affected... Before her eyes dart around the room, her expression frightful. "... I think we overdid it."

    "O... Oh..." I unhand her face, she¡¯s genuinely terrified... And I will not have that. "... You know, I''m sure if I cut the right rope all these glass things will fall on everyone''s heads. We wouldn''t have to worry about prying eyes then."

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    This is a horribly morbid thing to say, and yet it seems to absolutely delight Her Majesty, enough to shake her out of her little moment of terror. "Hehe, even from what little I know of you, that might be the most ''Serena'' plan I''ve ever heard of."

    Lazierte... No, it''s okay, I''m with Her Majesty now, no one else should be on my mind! "I''ll take that as a compliment, Your Majesty.¡±

    "Maybe one day I''ll be bold enough to pull off some ''Serena''-ish plans myself."

    Her Majesty looks rather contemplative, and I wonder if I''ve somehow influenced her thinking... Surely not, I''m but a mere supplicant, that we''re even having this conversation is a miracle... That she''s being so human in my presence is a miracle... It''s strange, after worship and prayer and... Blasphemy... When I''m finally face to face with my goddess, she is a perfectly normal woman. A girl I want to know.

    A girl I might like to dance with. Even the people staring at us are dancing, arms and hands upon one another and yet they seem more interested in everyone other than their dance partners. It''s honestly a little sickening that they could be so neglectful, and that it could be so normal. Surely if you dance with someone, it should be because you want to... Right?

    Her Majesty studies me closely, taking a brief glance down at my shoes before returning her gaze to my eyes and giving me a rather mischievous grin. "I know what you''re thinking. And I think we''ve already lost the opportunity to not be talked about. May as well dance like nobody''s watching, right?"

    I audibly swallow, I think I love Her Majesty... Of course I love Her Majesty, I worship Her Majesty!  What a ridiculous thing to think, that I love Her Majesty when I already do! ... Very ridiculous... I take a little step closer to her, and then I realize¡­

    "I ummm... I have no idea how to dance."

    "I''ll take the lead then, just follow me."

    Putting her hand on me, Her Majesty looks rather confident. Trying to move my left hand to hold her though¡­

    "Oww... Owwwww!" ... I finally can''t take the pain anymore, I am such a failure. "Uhhh, sorry! I just, my left arm was recently almost sliced off so-"

    Her Majesty¡¯s eyes go wide, staring at my left shoulder with alarming concern. "... Are you sure you should be at a ball, and not in a Cotton Grove-"

    "I''m okay! I just... Can''t use that arm."

    "... If you insist then."

    Her Majesty takes my right hand in hers, and we fall quickly into what must be the clumsiest dance of her entire life. I follow her lead as well as my leather combat boots allow me, I hold her hand tightly and let myself be close to her. Close enough to smell her, close enough to be intoxicated with her.

    But not close enough that I can''t hear people''s little comments, little private barbs about the pair of us. "Isn''t that the younger General Pollineux, dancing with Her Majesty?"

    Another step, a little half-turn. "I thought the Pollineux family was in bed with the Aeduian Restorationists."

    A sway, a step back. "Well, this one looks like she wants to be in bed with Her Grace. Maybe the family''s not so united after all."

    A turn, a slide. "Isn''t she staying with that Rosierte fellow? Rising star of the Humanist Salon? Are they trying to court royal favor by sending their pet General?"

    A dip... A temptation to kiss Her Majesty in front of everyone in the world. "She''d be dancing with the King if that were the case. That foreign whore has no real power."

    ... With every second that passes, my plan to collapse the glass of the Glass Garden upon the well-to-do of Alesia becomes more and more tempting. Her Majesty seems to be trying to put on a brave face, but I see something in her eyes, something that is holding back tears.

    "... How can people say such awful things? Do they have no soul?" I can''t help but ask, that Her Majesty is subject to this bullying must be a sin.

    "You get used to it after a while..." Her Majesty pulls me up from the dip, and the steps continue, as do the barbs.

    A blonde waitress approaches us, carrying a pair of glasses on a platter... She seems familiar somehow. Either way, Her Majesty takes a glass, filled with some golden, bubbly liquid. I suppose this was as good a situation as any for drinking, but I decided to refrain from taking the other glass. I want to be as present as possible for this moment.

    "Awww, Serena. Don''t make me drink alone, I''ll feel like a lush!" She lets go of my hip to hold her glass, but she doesn''t let go of my hand.

    "I... I''ve never drunk alcohol before." I really can have no secrets from Her Majesty, not even the pathetic little ones.

    "You never danced before today either, you know. Hehe, I''ll lead you with this too." She offers the glass to me and puts it near my lips.

    ... This morning proved that this is completely normal and not even slightly intimate, but Gods do I feel flushed. I lean in and accept, letting myself take a little sip, not wanting to be greedy and take too much of Her Majesty''s drink... And I immediately start to feel heavy. Her Majesty has been stepping this whole time, I''ve been following, but now my legs feel like they''re made of mud, formless and heavy. Holding Her Majesty''s hand is getting more difficult, my arm quickly becomes too weak to support the weight of my fingers... And my eyelids seem determined to fall, the eyes behind them are determined to dim... Is this really what alcohol does?

    "S-rna?" I catch maybe a handful of Her Majesty''s words. "Are- kay?"

    I try to nod my head... Or shake my head, I can''t remember which one I¡¯m trying to do, but my neck simply sways messily. I open my mouth to speak, but end up slack-jawed as the words fail to make it from my brain to my throat.

    "Oh G- You- Poison?" Her Majesty is panicking now, her eyes appear to be darting anywhere and everywhere in the room. "Some- poison- Gods- Fuck."

    I didn''t know Her Majesty used such language. Maybe she and Pasche would get along well... Oh dear, Pasche will get worried if I¡¯ve been poisoned, she was upset enough when I was almost de-limbed... I''ll have to apologize to her again. Thank goodness she and Xena are at that buffet table together; I can go apologize right now¡­

    ... Wait, what? No no no, this is surely the poison doing weird things to my brain, these two simply would not be in a place like this, and Xena absolutely would not be wearing a frilly pink dress... Still, I weakly raise my hand, pointing at the pair, as if I can somehow disprove their presence by having someone else observe it.

    "Those two? What- important?"

    "Friends..." I think the words come out... Wait, Her Majesty can see them too?

    And she can apparently drag my useless, stupid body over to them, and upon closer inspection they both appear to be very real. Pasche even has dancing shoes, quite elegant-looking ones. Red dress and white dancing shoes... It suits her. Xena in pink... Looks a lot more awkward.

    "You two! Serena- Help- Poison!" Her Majesty seems so very far away, even when I''m in her arms like this.

    Pasche meanwhile does as I expect of her and freaks out. "How?! How- how- how-"

    And Xena... Simply tries to extract me from Her Majesty''s grasp, trying to work that science magic on me. "The diagnosis- Smoother if- Not being held."

    Her Majesty quickly releases me, and Xena gently guides me to the floor while examining my useless form. Playing with my eyelids, lifting and dropping my limbs. Eventually, to the horror of Pasche and Her Majesty, she reaches a finger in my mouth and takes some saliva, before tasting it herself. Perfectly normal friend behavior, naturally.

    "-Not dying. -Drugged." Xena sighs, turning her attention to the buffet table, grabbing seemingly random items from atop it.

    "Seriously- How- Happen- My girl-" Pasche, having put me in Xena''s capable hands, seems to be castigating Her Actual Majesty, apparently being bold enough to talk back to a goddess.

    "She- My drink... Oh gods- Drugged her. -Sorry!"

    Please don''t be sorry, Your Majesty... I got to save you again...

    Just as I feel my consciousness begin to fade, Xena shoves something in my mouth. Perfectly normal thing to do, so I swallow.

    I never thought I''d have to miss the feeling of my eyelids being eyelids, but I am about ready to kiss Xena for making me a person again... Would that be normal? It was normal with Pasche after all, I had decided it was¡­

    As I consider this perfectly normal, non-blasphemous thing Her Majesty leans down, looking into my eyes and stroking my hair. "Thank the Gods! ... I... I''m sorry, I''m so sorry, this is all my fault!"

    "... It¡¯s okay, Your Majesty. Don¡¯t you remember?" I still feel a little out of it, but I can at least talk now. "I will never not protect you."

    Her Majesty actually sheds a tear. It splashes onto my nose and leaves me very confused for a few moments. Pasche is utterly apoplectic, and I note that she appears to have worn her cavalry gloves to this event... She better not even think of harming Her Majesty¡­

    Just as the four of us are having this little drama a voice booms throughout the Glass Garden, a familiar voice... "Ladies and gentlemen, The High King demands your attention for an address to all those attending! Be standing and show His Majesty the proper respect!"

    Her Majesty winces, hearing the booming voice of The Marshal, and looks about ready to spit in disgust. "... Well, we might just be fine after all. Whatever stupid bullshit my husband comes up with will probably take our spot in the headlines, Serena..."

 Chapter Twenty Eight

    "Gentlemen and ladies, I have been reading extensively these past few days, trying to figure out how to navigate our new and difficult world. And I think I have found the answer, I think I have found how our society should be. And all it took was a study of bees... Bees build great and beautiful things, produce more honey than they could ever need, can deter and kill threats and predators, and surely these are the things we wish for our society! Bees want for nothing because they have a structure. Because they serve the... The King. I believe these industrious and loyal creatures are what our great society should emulate, what we should aspire to! Loyalty, security, prosperity! ... Thank you all for listening."

    Her Majesty simply shakes her head at the King''s little address, there is little more that she could do. "That''ll certainly be a headline, ''Tyrannical Despot doesn''t understand bees''... We keep courtiers around just to make sure that idiot doesn''t talk publicly, where are they?"

    I struggle to try to rise to my feet from the floor, still recovering from my apparent drugging, and resolving to never drink again. Xena and Pasche stare at each other in sheer disbelief at the speech, still recovering from just how overwhelmingly stupid it was.

    Xena is the first to finally speak, her voice full of shocked disbelief. "... He... He does know that bees are almost exclusively female, right?"

    Pasche nods along, also in shock. "And that they tend to die when they ''deter threats''..."

    "And that they have a Queen!"

    "And that they''re creatures! They don''t have the same kind of thinking going on that we do!"

    "And that-"

    I manage to crawl to my hands and knees and reach up to raise a hand between the two of them. "I think that''s enough about bees... What are you two even doing here anyway? I mean, thank gods for it but-"

    "We were invited by Theophania after breakfast." Pasche looks rather embarrassed, whether that¡¯s about her geeking out about bees or having to admit how she got here I can''t tell.

    "She was going to invite you too after you got back from meeting your brother. But then you didn''t come back and she got sad, so she went right to her room to sulk after we got here."

    "... I''ll have to apologize to her later..."

    Her Majesty looks at me with a puzzled expression, even as she clearly asks a question of Pasche. "Just a moment... My daughter had breakfast with you all? That¡¯s why she didn¡¯t come home last night?"

    Pasche fails to come up with a response, her eyes finding Xena again and her voice a little shaky. "S... So! Why isn''t Katarina with us anyway? She was invited too after all."

    Xena rolls her eyes, clearly knowing she¡¯s being used to dodge a question. "She''s seen enough balls and ballrooms in her time. She finds the shoes uncomfortable, the dresses awkward, and the dancing not suited to someone seven feet tall. She''s currently snoozing in front of the Rosierte family fireplace, doing her best bearskin rug impression."

    "She really does seem to be able to sleep whenever she wants. Weird for a girl with so much energy."

    "Yeah... It''s very convenient..."

    Her Majesty does not seem particularly pleased by any of that diversion. Learning about Katarina admittedly can be a little jarring and I imagine she''s no fan of the Rosiertes... Is staying with them a blasphemy against Her Majesty? ... She¡¯s the one who originally sent me away, surely then it serves Her Majesty for me to sleep elsewhere, right? ... Surely!

    Finally, Her Majesty addresses me, trying her best to maintain a smile. "You sure have some... Interesting friends, Serena."

    "I do count your daughter among them, Your Majesty..." I notice Xena prepping to flick Her Actual Freakin'' Majesty in the face, and I grab her hand and squeeze it. "Don''t worry though! I promise I will protect your daughter, and yourself, with my life! I swore an oath! Like a brave and noble knight!"

    There is a momentary flash of some kind of recognition in Her Majesty''s eyes, a flash which says that very bad decisions have been made somewhere along the way. Even so, Her Majesty does smile in earnest for me, at least a little bit, and this gives my limbs some strength again. I had protected her today, and that can''t be taken away from me- Wait¡­

    "... Xena, they didn''t poison Her Majesty, they drugged her. Non-lethally, right?"

    Xena raises an eyebrow, regarding me suspiciously. "They did. The drug would have flushed out of her system in approximately two hours. Given your... Significantly reduced body mass it might have taken more like six or seven for you and it may potentially have stopped your heart. It was a dose designed for The Queen and her particular mass-"

    "Right, you can stop talking about Her Majesty¡¯s mass now..." I know I''m blushing, I have to hope no one can see me blushing, this is serious. "Either way, the point wasn''t to kill her, it was to make her unable to act... Or resist. Right?"

    "That is the typical use of these drugs, yes."

    "... So if that was their intention, I have to assume that they expected her to have to resist something, right?"

    Xena, Pasche, and Her Majesty seem to finally be catching onto my implication... And the panic settles in. Pasche looks ready to punch something to death, possibly twenty somethings. Xena seems to be looking around for potential threats, or possibly potential opportunities. Her Majesty... Has gone and grabbed a carving knife from the buffet table and is holding it tightly in her hand.

    "I think we need to get out of here-"

    My thoughts are interrupted by the harsh sound of gunfire. It sounds like it¡¯s coming from the courtyard, where most of the guards are patrolling. It isn''t long before the glass doors to the Glass Garden are being opened by dead and dying guards being thrown into them, their bodies becoming riddled with broken shards... These aren''t Greenjackets. Our assailants look like common bandits this time.

    A prominent one among them, wearing a scrappy and clearly stolen officer''s cap with an ostentatious feather atop it, gives a very loud introduction. "Dear corrupt relics of the past regime, playthings of Steel and whores of Wool! The Alesian Liberation Army has come to realize just how much these little parties of yours cost the fair people of Avernia in taxes and labor, and their soldiers have decided to come to collect the bill! If you don''t resist you might just live long enough to be ransomed! Try to be expensive now!"

    The ballroom becomes utter bedlam. People throw themselves in all kinds of directions, some trying to flee as fast as possible, some trying to rush to their attackers to surrender before they get hurt.

    The guards in the hall are among the fleeing category, heavily outnumbered and taken by surprise... Only, they aren''t heavily outnumbered. The ''Alesian Liberation Army'' appears to only have about two dozen ''soldiers'' in the Garden, they only really have the elements of surprise and chaos... This is a stupid plan, when the Gendarmerie arrives these louts will be swept away easily. If the guards could get their act together they could probably overcome these invaders with ease¡­ But they don''t have their act together, so we are alone, surrounded by idiots. Maybe I can wrap them in bravery and have them overcome their attackers¡­

    I hear gunshots, bullets flying perilously close to us. Four of these ''soldiers'' are approaching us and are apparently terrible shots¡­

    And terrible at keeping secrets. "The Queen? She was supposed to be out like a candle! ... Get her!"

    ... This is all to grab Her Majesty? As the first soldier approaches I grab the closest thing to a weapon I can find on the buffet table. A silver serving platter... It¡¯s hard to wield with one hand, and it hardly makes for my proudest moment, but it is enough to parry away the bayonet coming for me and bludgeon the man who charged. Seems they aren''t planning to take the Queen''s associates hostage ''for ransom''... Either way, I have something approaching a weapon, and there are still three more ''soldiers'' trying their luck.

    The second has their bayonet grabbed by Pasche before being pulled into a vicious haymaker. The sickening crunch that follows is enough to know the man will not rise again. The third tries to go for Xena and is also taken down by Pasche, sent to the floor in a heap, bleeding from a wound on his head... The fourth makes it to Her Majesty, trying to pull her away while we are distracted... A carving knife in his gut puts an end to that plan. Her Majesty pulls the knife out of him, staring at her hands, breathing terribly fast. This is very clearly the first time she''s ever stabbed someone, and going by the look in her eyes she hopes it will be the last.

    I hit the attacker with the silver platter, sending him to the floor and out of Her Majesty''s sight... I wish I was dashing and gallant right now. "R... Run!"

    We quickly make our way down a side hall, heading deeper into the castle proper... But not before Xena finds a rope tied to a wall and unties it.

    There is a crash behind us, accompanied by a medley of screams. Whatever just happened is probably going to give us more of a head start before the ''soldiers'' and their ''officer'' realize that their prize has escaped and several of their troops have been taken out of action... But even so¡­

    I look back. Only one of the glass features from the ¡®Garden¡¯ had fallen, but it was big enough for the resulting shards to shred a few folk, both gossiping hostage nobles and apparent revolutionary bandits alike... This is all to protect Her Majesty. It will all be okay, so long as we can protect Her Majesty¡­

    Two ''soldiers'' approach us from the other end of the hall. Our adversary clearly has grander plans than just taking the Glass Garden, they have troops throughout the palace! Upon seeing us, they make ready with their muskets... And I throw the silver platter at them, hitting them both and messing with their aim. Their shots go wide, and Pasche rushes in for the kill, charging them both and dispatching them with a pair of sharp blows¡­

    She then kicks off her heeled shoes, wincing a little. "Stupid freakin'' heels. I should have trusted my gut and worn my armor."

    I take the moment of respite as an opportunity to check on Her Majesty... She¡¯s still clutching the carving knife with white-knuckled tightness, holding it close to her chest and ruining her beautiful white dress with the blood left on it.

    I reach over and gently take it from her. "You needn''t sully your hands with such things, Your Majesty... Let your Serena take the lead on this."

    She relinquishes the knife and looks grateful for the opportunity. "I... I appreciate it, Serena... Gods only know what I''d have done if I didn''t have you."

    Pasche takes the opportunity to ask a question which utterly spoils the mood. "Yeah, uhhh, not to put too fine a point on it, but why is this bullshit happening? I mean really, Queenie, you don''t have a great deal of actual sway, so the fact they want to kidnap you is a bit far-fetched on the face of it. And I doubt your husband would be particularly keen to ransom you, sorry to say. So... What is this about?"

    "I... I don''t know! How am I supposed to know what crazy people want?!"

    ... There is absolutely no way Her Majesty is lying about that; it¡¯s simply impossible. Which means it falls to me to answer that question somehow, or else Pasche will just keep asking and making Her Majesty upset... Why would these assailants want the Queen, drugged and at their mercy? I guess that depends who they are. Who are they? Some bandits... And a familiar-looking blonde woman, who served Her Majesty the spiked drink.

    ... A blonde woman I think I¡¯ve seen before, stealing a painting from Triumph Square. "... Your Majesty, do you happen to keep any paintings in the palace?"

    Her Majesty''s eyes drift to one of the many, many paintings that line the hallways of the Royal Palace, and I suddenly feel incredibly stupid... At least until her eyes flash with recognition, as if something has finally occurred to her. "... Oh... Oh no. No no no no no, that''s what they want! Yes, I have a painting, one I think they might be looking for!"

    "Well then, if we give them the painting they should just leave us alone-"

    "We cannot allow them to have that painting." I have never seen Her Majesty so resolute, so Steel. "I will die before I let that painting fall into the wrong hands. I will spend every man, woman, and child in Alesia before that painting falls into the wrong hands. We cannot allow them to have that painting, is that understood?"

    ... It''s a strange kind of fear, the kind that makes one stalwart beyond reason and measure. And Her Majesty''s entire body courses with that very fear... It''s sickening, I cannot stand to see the world do this to Her Majesty, to have it rock her body with such determined terror. I will protect this painting. I will take her fears away.

    "Very well then. With my life, I will protect that painting."

    Pasche is very displeased, stomping over to me on bare feet. "Are you fucking kidding me, Serena?! It''s a painting!"

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "It''s important to Her Majesty-"

    "And you aren''t important?!"

    "..."

    "You promised me you wouldn''t die, start acting like it!" Pasche looks about ready to cry, it''s been a stressful few days for her...

    "... We''ll protect ''Her Majesty''s'' little canvas if you like, but the moment things go bad we are leaving. I wasn''t going to lose you to an entire army, I sure as hell will not lose you to paint... Nor to a powerless Queen."

    Okay, now I think Pasche is pushing it¡­ And Her Majesty clearly agrees, losing her patience with my second best friend. "Look, the painting is hidden in a secret room in the palace. The only one who knows where it is and how to get in is me. When we get there, we''ll be safe, so you can stop complaining!"

    It¡¯s odd to see Her Majesty get angry; it¡¯d almost be a little adorable except if she wasn¡¯t bickering with my friends... Why can''t my friends and my goddess get along?

    "... Well let''s get moving then. If they''ve been wandering the Palace that means they might run into us at any moment, you know." It falls to Xena to be the voice of reason... She picks up one of the muskets of our recently ''Pasche''d assailants, leaves me wondering if she has any idea how to actually use a real weapon, rather than a ''chemical solution''.

    "Well, she knows her way around a cannon..." I take comfort in that... A small comfort.

    A permanent gang of about six assailants has taken up position around Her Majesty''s chambers, and their pompous-looking officer has joined them, looking quite displeased. In fact, he looks rather incensed even.

    Or perhaps utterly apoplectic is a better term. "What do you mean the Queen isn''t in there?! Rivauld planned everything to the letter!"

    One of the soldiers, a young man in a tattered overcoat who looks no older than seventeen, gives a shaky response. "I... I don''t know what to tell you! She just isn''t in there, we thought she''d be taken here after the drugs took hold but it''s an empty room!"

    "Damn it! ... Someone else. Someone else must''ve kidnapped her for their own purposes. They''re looking for that damned Heart too! ... We don''t have much time, tear the entire palace to the ground brick by brick if you must! Just find that painting!"

    "Y... Yes sir!"

    The Heart? What does the Heart have to do with any of this?! ¡­ The troops, not quite certain how to interpret their officer¡¯s instructions, started trying to bayonet down the very walls of the palace, looking for secret passages or compartments in the walls. They don''t seem very confident, but their officer seems satisfied enough with their progress to stop yelling for the moment.

    "Let''s... Move on..." Pasche, who has taken to massaging her poor, long-suffering knuckles, looks eager to avoid any unnecessary fighting.

    "We can''t." Her Majesty watches the soldiers literally stabbing around in the dark, her voice carrying just a little bit of spite. "The entrance to the secret room is in my chambers. If we leave these men to it, they might just find the thing."

    "... You kept the entrance to your secret room, in which you want to keep your secret things... In your own chambers? The very first place someone would look for an entrance to a secret room that hides your secret things?"

    "... Look, I didn''t exactly have a lot of options-"

    "So you picked the absolute worst one?!"

    "Shhhh." I raise a finger to my lips, if this gets any more heated we might be overheard. "... We have to remove six soldiers and a pompous officer. That''s what we have to do."

    "We aren''t going to be able to fight seven people with one musket, a pair of fists, and a carving knife, Serena!"

    "... Then we''ll simply remove them by other means... If we can draw them away then the secret entrance will be safe. This is the area we have to protect after all."

    Pasche looks like she''s about to argue, but Xena is already lining up a shot on the officer, and Pasche simply shrugs. "Fine then... Seems Xena is willing to draw their attention, we just have to run like hell after she fires and hope they take the bait, right?"

    "Worst case scenario, they stand still and we shoot them one at a time."

    "Serena, the worst case scenario is that we all get killed."

    "... As always it seems... Are you ready, Your Majesty? We might need to start running soon."

    Her Majesty kicks off her shoes, they really are something of an impediment to running quickly. I take that as a yes and gesture for Xena to fire.

    Which she did, shooting off the officer''s feather, leaving his otherwise intact hat upon his otherwise intact head. It turns out she does not in fact know how to shoot. Rubbing her apparently sore shoulder after the effort does not inspire confidence.

    The shot does apparently inspire a lot of very loud words from the officer though, who looks upon his blasted feather on the floor with vengeful eyes. "Someone... Someone shot at me!"

    The soldiers look remarkably confused, looking around for anything that might''ve tried to take a potshot at their officer. "Who? Where?!"

    The officer draws his sword, pointing it in our direction. "That way! Kill them!"

    That¡¯s our cue to start running. With two hallways to run down Her Majesty and I go one way, Pasche and Xena another. Splitting the enemy up will give us all a better chance... I hope Pasche and Xena get out of this alright.

    I hope Her Majesty and I get out of this alright, even without the shoes Her Majesty is clearly not accustomed to being chased by bandits through the halls of her palace home... The soldiers round the corner and find us, and being less than aware or concerned who we might be, one fires a shot in our direction. I swear I feel a musket ball graze the flesh of my neck... It takes me back to the Academy, to that lecturer who left me so certain I was bleeding under her power. I wonder if I came up with the wrong answer to this question¡­

    "Your Majesty, this way!" I grab her hand and pull her around another corner, where we''ll be safe from gunfire for the moment...

    She''s already out of breath, holding her stomach, exhausted... We aren''t going to be running any further than this... I don''t hear any more gunfire, so presumably Pasche and Xena are safe for the moment, thank the Gods.

    "S... Sorry... I-" Between deep breaths and racking coughs, Her Majesty tries to force out some words¡­

    And as boots approach us, soldiers ready to chase us down... I remember what my function is. What I''m supposed to be. I''m supposed to be a godless monster, aren''t I? That''s what Her Majesty always wanted me to be, what she mustered me to be. And I still have a weapon, of sorts... I can still do as I am meant to.

    "Don''t be sorry, Your Majesty. I told you before... You don''t have to be sorry."

    The first soldier rounds the corner... And I go for the throat, stabbing through the trachea before violently pushing him backward with my bad shoulder, freeing my knife for the next victim. The second aims a shot and me and fires, I feel the ball smack against my ribcage... And slide off of it, slipping around and outside my flesh. It flares up in pain, but that just lets me know I''m still alive. And he soon is not, I slash his throat and kick him into the third soldier, messing up that man¡¯s aim and getting his bayonet stuck inside his comrade. The third man is now defenseless... He tries to run, far too late. I stab him in the back and he falls... I lean down, retrieving the knife from his body, wiping it clean on a relatively unbloodied part of my dress¡­

    And I feel my left shoulder begin to bleed again. I seem to have re-opened my wound. I stumble a little on my way to Her Majesty, giving her the best smile I possibly can as I am racked in pain.

    "I am here for you. You never have to feel sorry."

    I almost fall, but Her Majesty rushes over to catch me... Her poor dress, it''s now saturated in the same blood that''s covered me... I don''t know if we can ever wear these garments again. Her Majesty takes the knife from my hands and starts dragging me through the halls... Back towards her chambers, panting with the exertion all the while.

    "We... We need to get you bandaged up. You''re bleeding and-"

    "I''m your monster..." I mumble the words, when I look down I can see my steel-tipped paws, can see the smoke rising from my breath... I''m losing a lot of blood, aren''t I?

    "... You''re not. You''re not-"

    "I did as you wished, I was what you wanted, I..." My voice trails off, I barely even notice that we''ve slipped into Her Majesty''s Chambers.

    "Right now I want you to live! ... Do that for me, Serena."

    "... Yes, Your Majesty." And I am Serena again.

    Her Majesty lights three candles in her chambers, seemingly at random... And suddenly a section of wall beside her bed opens, revealing a little room. A very little room, there''s maybe space for two people amongst the junk... And a window, one which looks out upon Alesia, and gives a very good view of the Moon... Her Majesty put a window in her secret room?

    ... This has to be for some incredibly important purpose, surely. Her Majesty cannot possibly be anything but wise and learned! ... Either way, she drags me inside, and sets me among jewelry boxes and a small cavalry carbine... I am seated facing a painting, a little piece depicting a woman holding a stone and weeping. It doesn''t look like anything special, certainly nothing worth killing over.

    Her Majesty soon joins me, pulling a little lever by the hidden door, closing it behind us. She pushes the gun aside and takes a spot beside me, fishing through boxes and retrieving some medical supplies. It seems she¡¯s been preparing for... Something, in this room. She attempts to bandage me the best she can... Her Majesty is clearly not a goddess of health or healing. Right now, she''s never seemed more human. My blasphemous, shameless self wants to kiss her more than worship her.

    "Oh gods... Serena, what have I done to you?"

    "... You didn''t do anything. You''re bandaging my wounds; you''re staying with me. You''re calling me by my name... You didn''t hurt me-"

    "You threw yourself at a bunch of soldiers just for me. Any reasonable person would have left my useless self behind-"

    "You aren''t useless-"

    "Am I not?! I... I only slowed you down. I couldn''t protect you. I couldn''t help you. I only forced you into more fighting."

    "And I''m okay with that."

    "I''m not! ... Serena, it''s not fair what I''ve done to you."

    Her Majesty starts to cry... I''ve gone and made Her Majesty cry again. I wasn''t good enough, I let myself get hurt and now she''s crying again. I want to join her; I want to weep and weep for my stupid failures.

    I wrap my arms around her, both of them... Before the agony of my left becomes too intense and I let it fall limp at my side again. "You do so much more for me than simply give me something to fight and bleed for. Your little smiles, your visits, your visage in the dorm room... These are the things that got me through the military academy in the first place, saw me through the sacrifices. Your muster of the witches? It saved me from the fate of young women in La''anian politics. You rescued me, Your Majesty. I will always be there to rescue you."

    This only makes her cry even more. I don''t get it, I thought that would help, that it would soothe her somewhat. But it only seems to have twisted a knife. I look down and make absolutely sure she¡¯s not being stabbed by the carving knife, and it seems she is completely free of injury... So why... Why does being protected by me seem to hurt her so much? For a moment I consider using my power, maybe some courage might help her overcome whatever is hurting her... But I refrain. It wouldn''t be fair.

    Eventually, she manages to find a pause in her crying, and her eyes catch the painting before us, the remarkably pedestrian piece this whole conflict was started over. "Say, Serena... Do you want to know something about this painting?"

    I nod. I honestly don''t care a whit about paintings, but I do care about Her Majesty, and she seems quite interested in the topic.

    "Hehe... The artist''s name is Gina Silk, a woman who painted three paintings before disappearing from the art world, and all recorded history, forever."

    "Sounds like a mystery. Is that why it''s so valuable? Because there are only three, and the artist was so eccentric?"

    "Not quite... See, there''s something of a rumor regarding that artist, Gina Silk. Namely, that she never existed at all."

    "... How does a painting happen without an artist, Your Majesty?"

    "See, that''s where things get complicated. You see, according to rumor, these pieces were not painted by human hands at all! Some say that it was painted by the goddess Velvet herself, depicting her grief over losing a mortal she had loved."

    A goddess, and a mortal? Now that is a concept that interests me, for admittedly selfish reasons. But it isn''t as if my shameful nature was not a known quantity at this stage, right? ... Blasphemously, I want to know more about that story¡­

    But Her Majesty has nothing more to tell. "That''s about all I know. Either way, it seems like there are people out there who wish to collect the paintings of Velvet, and they are apparently willing to kill for them."

    "... And you''re willing to die to protect yours."

    "... I am... I must confess, I too would like to have the whole set one day. But in twenty-one years of being in Alesia, I only ever found this one."

    She''s been at this for longer than I have been alive? ... Why?

    Before I can ask, Her Majesty''s gaze finds itself out the window, looking out upon the city of Alesia, and even in my wounded state I can still see the beauty in the endless lights. "... Isn''t it beautiful from here, Serena? The city? The world?"

    "... It''s very pretty, Your Majesty."

    "It''s a gorgeous, stunning place... That is full of people. Selfish people, gossiping people, dangerous and angry people. From here, from atop a hill and behind a window it can truly be appreciated. But when you''re in there, amongst the people? ... Well, it can be a little hard to see the beauty in it."

    My wounds sting just a little more, I can''t quite tell why... "... I''m a person... Am I ruining the view, Your Majesty?"

    "Oh! Oh no no no, you''re not- Oh dear..." She¡¯s clearly flustered... Do goddesses even get flustered? "You''re not ruining anything Serena, you''re not selfish or cruel like they are! Don''t... Don''t worry."

    "I''m glad..."

    ... Except I am a selfish girl. I want to kiss Her Majesty, I want to feel her closer, I want to touch her. Even though she''s a goddess, I want her to be very, very human in my hands, against my lips. I''ve even dreamed of it, I''ve even... Done things, thinking about it. I shouldn''t be ruining Her Majesty''s view. I shouldn''t be ruining her Alesia.

    "Serena... It is okay, you know."

    I hear a knock upon the wall, a heavy knock, and soon hear the voice of Pasche following it. "There''s something behind the wall here! I think this is our secret entrance!"

    "Okay, hold on, I think I''ve almost figured out these candles." Xena, muffled and more distant... They got out okay!

    Soon the door opens, and Pasche finds Her Majesty and I sitting together on the floor, my arm wrapped around her... And my blood utterly saturating her dress. Pasche looks down upon the two of us, as I weakly raise my head to look at her. She simply glares back...

    Xena meanwhile finds the two of us and immediately rushes over to look at my wounds, sees how inexpertly they were bandaged, and flicks the actual Queen of Avernia on the forehead for good measure. I should have stopped her from doing that. I should have explained things to Pasche¡­

    I should have been able to keep my eyes open.

 Chapter: Twenty Nine

    Somehow, when I wake, I am laying on the beaches of Kerska... I''m home? ... The last two years can¡¯t possibly have been a dream, this... This is a dream! I realize that now, so I ought to wake up soon, right?

    I rise to my feet, the dream is not over yet. I almost panic about the prospect of this in fact being reality, until I look down to where I lay and find a sleeping Lazierte, her form next to where I had woken. She¡¯s never been to Kerska, so this has to be a dream. Thank goodness... She does look beautiful though, sleeping soundly on the warm sand, the high tide tickling her feet. Oh... She¡¯s naked, huh? That doesn''t seem normal¡­

    I try to remove my jacket to give it to her, only to find that I am naked as well. Definitely not normal! I find my and Lazierte''s clothes in a heap further up the beach. It almost feels profane to cover her up, she looks so happy, sleeping naked upon the sand. Still... This is the ''normal'' thing to do, so I reach down to grab her clothing, to drape her in something.

    "So that''s where you lazy bums snuck off to."

    I look up in a panic, I have apparently been caught very naked after all... By Princess Theophania of all people. Wearing an uncharacteristically plain dress, a humble white number. She... Looks beautiful. I wonder if Her Majesty would look this good in a humble dress.

    I speak... I can''t quite hear the words I say, but I know that I¡¯ve responded to Princess Theophania because she giggles and bounds over to me in response. She reaches down and grabs some of my clothes, pressing them into my hands.

    "Back when I was a princess you promised to be my brave and noble knight, protect me from all harm. If you can fight Greenjackets and gangsters then you can also do the dishes when we''re all done cooking. Hehe, the soup pot''s not going to shoot anyone after all."

    I laugh... Wait, back when? What is she talking about? I speak some more, and Princess Theophania''s... Well, just Theophania''s attention falls on Lazierte.

    "Oh, her. Don''t worry, I know her weaknesses! I''ll get her awake. You just get dressed and head back to the castle, we''ll be right behind you."

    Weaknesses? ... I don''t think I even want to know... I really wish I didn''t want to know! Either way, I do as I''m told, and try to ignore the girlish, Lazierte-ish squeal that follows as I dress... This isn''t my officer''s dress, not the one I know. It''s a little green dress instead with no matching jacket. This little trip to Kerska is getting more complicated all the time. Either way, I return to the seat of my family line, the pathetic excuse for a ''castle'' that sits upon the big hill overlooking Barcaggio. To think, someone once thought this island could be an independent Grand Duchy¡­

    I arrive at the castle at the speed of dreaming, linear space and distances are nonsense and that''s weirdly a comfort, it implies I will awaken again... At the castle gates I am met with Katarina, who gives a big smile as she lifts the heavy portcullis under her own power.

    "Welcome home, Serena! Did you have fun at the beach?"

    ... Full Avernian sentences. Still quite accented but... She''s speaking full Avernian sentences! And lifting a steel portcullis like it''s nothing... And... She''s wearing CLOTHES?! Worker''s overalls to be sure, but still clothes! She even has a little earring, a dangling bear... What is going on here?

    I feel my lips contort into a smile at the sight of her, and I apparently say something that delights the substantially less beastly Katarina.

    "Hehehe! I''m sure you will be nice and show me and Xena the beach some time."

    I slip myself under the portcullis, and Katarina lets it drop to the ground after me, leaving us both on the other side of it. But she doesn''t move from where she is, I guess she''ll need to open the gate for Lazierte and Theophania after me. I move on, into the castle proper, where I find Xena stirring a gigantic pot that almost seems full to the brim with various sea creatures... It looks delicious... Maybe there are some disadvantages to this being a dream.

    "Oh, there you are." Xena rolls her eyes, but follows it with a very un-Xena smile, one that seems... Entirely there. "I notice Lazierte''s not with you. You wore the poor thing out again, didn''t you?"

    I say something that gets a chuckle out of Xena, and I find myself soon taking her position stirring the pot while Xena sets out plates and the like. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... Seven. Seven? There sure are a lot of us here. I''m not sure this giant pot will even be enough, especially since I am determined to make sure Lazierte and Pasche eat their fill, the poor starved darlings.

    ... Where is Pasche? I haven''t seen her yet... It''s just a dream, there are no consequences, so I can stop stirring the pot. I slip away and go to explore the castle; she has to be here somewhere... Maybe the Library?

    I walk up the stairs, the library is on the second floor... But this time the lack of consistent space and time is a hindrance rather than a help, I¡¯m forced to climb those stairs for almost two whole minutes. When I finally reach the top of them I¡¯m in my room in the Rosierte''s home, the one I''ve been sleeping in these past few days. Pasche is sitting on a chair at the foot of my bed, in full armor, her sword at her side and pistol at the ready... She''s crying.

    I walk over to my sleeping form on the bed, covered in bandages and splattered with blood, looking pale as I have ever seen her, seen me... I walk over¡­

    And I wake up.

    I try to lean up, but I am wracked with pain at the exertion and decide to spend a few more moments laying still. The effort however isn''t entirely in vain, for the briefest of moments I catch a glimpse of Pasche at the foot of my bed, wearing her cuirass, her sword and gun close at hand... Just like my dream, she is softly weeping to herself.

    "What the hell am I supposed to do? If I could just leave it would be so much easier but... That''s just another form of losing her, isn''t it?"

    ... She''s in pain too... I lean up again, this time I grit my teeth through the pain and make my way to a sitting position, making sure I can look her in the eyes. It hurts, I have to lean against the back wall to stop myself from screaming, but I can at least see her now.

    I can see her absolutely freak out. "S... Serena! You''re supposed to be laying down! Bed rest, all that stuff! Get back down!"

    "... I couldn''t see you when I was lying down. I had to sit up."

    "Oh, do not make this one my fault!" She was so contemplative and sad before... Now she seems wrathful.

    "It isn''t your fault. It''s my fault that I want to see you, Pasche."

    Pasche rises to her feet, and with conflicted steps she drags her chair over to my bedside, taking a seat again. "Well, now you can see me while lying down! So get on that, because as angry as I am, Xena will be fucking furious if she knows you''re trying to be up and about again."

    "... I bet she can be pretty scary when she''s mad."

    "You don''t even know the half of it." Pasche removes her gloves, letting them hit the floor with a heavy thud, before gingerly trying to guide me back to laying down. "... It''s a miracle you''re alive, you know. An actual fucking miracle."

    "I... I don''t know if I''d describe it in such terms-"

    "You were shot, near point blank, by a musket, in the chest! If the bullet hadn''t slid along your ribcage on the way out, if it had hit even slightly differently, you wouldn''t have a lung right now! And Xena''s a genius but she can''t just  replace people''s organs!"

    "Oh... I barely even noticed at the time."

    "And all over a stupid fucking painting! ... You promised me you wouldn''t die, no matter what. I''d like to think that ''not dying'' is a conscious decision that you practice by not getting into stupid fights!!"

    "... It was a very important painting."

    "What? Because ''Her Majesty'' told you so? ... Anyone who is willing to trade you for a painting is an idiot, and not someone who deserves you-"

    "Her Majesty made me!" I feel my blood begin to boil, and I''m tempted to force myself to my feet out of sheer spite. "She saved me from what fate had in store for me, she saved me from having to be some boring, awful grown-up, she was with me for the sacrifices, for the cold, for everything! I am hers, she made me hers, so I will not ever hear that she does not deserve me!"

    The exertion of shouting hurts my chest. Seeing Pasche forlornly staring at the floor hurts my heart. "That doesn''t change the fact that she''s not good for you. That serving her like this is hurting you."

    "I''ll hurt for her Majesty; I''ll bleed for her."

    "And you''d break your promise for her? You''d die for her?"

    ... I want to answer truthfully, but I don''t know what the truth is.

    When I made that oath, I meant it, I don''t want to ever hurt Pasche like that, or Lazierte like that, or Princess Theophania like that. But I promised my life to Her Majesty first. Am I really allowed to promise that I''ll live? Even if it feels right, even if I want to? My life can''t be hers AND mine, can it?

    "Serena, you look like you''re about to cry... Should I call Xena in? Get some of her ''chemical solution to pain'' in you?"

    "... Would that I had two lives to give... Why do I have to choose? It all seems so unfair."

    "Those are just the rules-"

    "They seem like stupid grown-up rules, the exact kind I have no patience for, Pasche..."

    "Hehe... What a ''Serena'' answer..."

    Lazierte, Her Majesty¡­ Pasche slowly reaches out a hand to grab mine, and with a little bit of effort I manage to run my thumb over the back of her hand. I clench my teeth and throw my magic over her, letting our hearts beat together for a moment. This gets a smile from Pasche, she¡¯s clearly missed this. I try to make it seem a lot less painless than it is, taxing my heart while my wounds are still healing fills my veins with a painful hunger. From there the pair of us just sat in silence for a while, before being invited back to reality by a celestial little chirp at the door.

    "Serena, Pasche, breakfast is ready! ... Should I bring some up?"

    Pasche is about to answer, but I roll myself onto my side and begin the agonizing process of getting myself out of bed. Pasche, utterly incredulous, simply gives up and helps me to my feet, and is even gracious enough to take my weight, slipping herself under my shoulder.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Thank goodness I was sent to bed dressed; I doubt I''m in a state to get that done myself. "I''ll come down!"

    There is a slightly surprised noise from behind the door, and a much more surprised noise when Pasche and I emerge from the room. We¡¯re a mess of carrying and being carried, but we are entirely capable of walking.

    I give Celeste a smile, very happy to see her. "Good morning, Celeste. Thank you for breakfast."

    She looks like she''s resisting the urge to slap me, and possibly also the urge to hug me. "Serena, you''re clearly still hurt, you should be in bed."

    "I wanted to make sure I saw everyone who saved my life last night."

    "Well, you could have just asked Xena to-"

    "You saved my life too, you know. I doubt sleeping in the street would do the bullet wound any good. You took me in, and I don''t think I''ve thanked you enough yet."

    "... Hehe... You''ve made your gratitude perfectly clear, you charmer... Okay, if you insist, you can come down for breakfast. But the moment we''re done, you''re going back to bed, young lady!"

    "I''ll try my best-"

    "The world will survive without you getting shot or stabbed or slashed for at least a day, Serena. And if it won''t then, well, it wasn''t much of a world, was it?"

    "... It''s the only one we''ve got, Celeste. If I let it die, then how are you supposed to fix it?"

    Celeste blushes at this little remark, which prompts Pasche to start leading me down the stairs without another word... The stairs are their own special hell, but I think I''m getting used to it. That I''m alive at all is a gift, I shouldn''t waste it wincing in pain.

    Downstairs the atmosphere is a little strange. Auguste reads his paper, Xena idly taps her fork on the table as Katarina tries desperately to soothe her, rubbing her shoulders from behind while on her knees. It¡¯s weird to see her wearing nothing but her bear again after seeing a vision of her in clothing. Maybe she can be convinced some day... Maybe if she manages to learn Avernian.

    Katarina smiles at my approach, meanwhile Xena looks furious, getting to her feet and wandering over before flicking me in the forehead. "No. Bad. Go rest."

    "... I never got to thank you for saving me... Again."

    "Squandering my efforts and getting yourself shot is a weird way to thank me. As is wandering around and risking your wounds reopening, again!" She¡¯s scolding me, but it¡¯s hard to care much about that when I am so focused on how much emotion she¡¯s showing¡­

    Kissing her is the normal thing to do. I kissed Pasche when she saved my life, so for consistency''s sake I should kiss her too. It''s not quite the right moment for it like it was in the palace, but it is just the rules... Right?

    "So please, thank me by going to bed, and recovering- Mmmhhnnff?!"

    I do the consistent thing, much to everyone''s shock. "... Thank you for saving me, Xena. I really appreciate it."

    Xena sits back down, clearly confused and trying to figure out what this means. Katarina meanwhile smiles at me even more sincerely, and I will never know what that means. Celeste, who has come down the stairs after us, puts a shocked hand to her mouth, as if she and Auguste didn''t do exactly this at the breakfast table every morning anyway¡­

    And Pasche decides to just ask me what that means. "Se... Serena, what was that? Are you okay in the head? You''re not feeling faint or anything, are you?"

    "I kissed you when you saved my life, it just seemed appropriate."

    Pasche gently lowers me to my chair, taking the seat next to me and trying not to be too contemplative. She gave Xena some weird looks, ones that Xena returned with desperately confused ones. Even with her rather blank expression it¡¯s fairly obvious that she¡¯s grappling for answers. Celeste gives both Xena and Pasche a look, before going over to her husband.

    "Struggling with any of the clues today, dearest?"

    "I am actually... It''s asking for the home of ''The Darkness of the Winter Sunrise''? What the heck does that even mean?"

    "It''s a painting, love. It''s in the Avernian National Gallery. Don''t you have a speech there today?"

    "I certainly do! I guess I''ll have some trivia about the world''s most pretentious painting for our crowd. Thank you honey."

    "You''re welcome!"

    The two... Aren''t doing their typical morning routine it seems. As awkward as it always is, now the absence of it feels just as strange, if not more so. Something changed this¡­ Did I change this? I merely acted consistently; if things were consistent then why would they make things abnormal?

    "Hey umm, you two can... Y''know. Do your usual morning thing. I won''t complain." I have to say something, I don''t want this to be weird.

    "It doesn''t have to be every morning." Auguste looks at Celeste, before looking back at me. "And I know Celeste knows I appreciate her regardless."

    "R... Right..."

    I feel like I''m supposed to know exactly what''s gone wrong here and how to fix it. Is that something a grown-up would know? I mean, there are stupid, awful grown-ups everywhere you look in Alesia. I assume that they wouldn''t know what''s happening here and how to fix it, right? ... Then of course, there''s the always present possibility that I am simply ''wrong'' somehow, that nothing I do is normal. I try to grab a morsel of food, as if I can drown my thoughts in action, but my wounds are quite opposed to the concept of me doing things.

    "Serena, you''re hurt." That¡¯s Xena''s voice... Followed by an offered morsel on the end of a fork. "Let the doctor handle the patient."

    The confusion hasn''t quite left her eyes, but it''s no longer alone there, her usual kind of pragmatic view on things has returned somewhat. And that makes me feel just comfortable enough to open my mouth for her, which rewards me with food. She prepares a second morsel, I eat that one too. There''s no fighting over the right to feed me this morning, it''s just what it is. Xena''s always taking care of people like this, isn''t she¡­

    She didn''t flick me on the head about that kiss either. Surely someone as smart and sincere as her would know exactly what I did wrong, and act to correct it, right?

    In any case, I eat, Auguste and Celeste share an entirely non-shameless morning together, allowing me to be the sole agent of awkwardness at the table, and Pasche eats in relative silence. Eventually the awkwardness just becomes part of the morning rhythm, and I can think again. Auguste said something about a speech, I''ve never been to one but living with him honestly has me quite curious about what he even does as a politician for The Convention of Humanity. And the speech was at the National Gallery, somewhere I''ve never been. I wonder if my wounds would permit me to accompany him, to see what this whole ''politics'' thing was all about. If I had to be a grown-up, he didn''t seem like a bad model to follow.

    Wait... Paintings, Galleries... No. No no no, there will not be another tragedy, a third random moment of violence to almost kill us all again. This is going to be a normal day, this has to be! ... The other two locations visited by that blonde woman were hints in the newspaper crossword, weren''t they? That very same day they were hit by mercenaries or thugs, people died, innocent people... And sometimes gossiping nobles, but there are probably a handful of decent ones! Probably...

    Even if it''s an outside chance, Auguste might get hurt. He might even get killed, people who believe in him might get killed if my speculations are right.

    I hope to the gods I am wrong, but I am not going to risk it. "... Auguste, I think we should cancel the speech."

    Auguste lowers his newspaper entirely, placing it on the table and looking at me attentively. "Serena? Is there something wrong?"

    "It''s just... The last two times a place was mentioned in the crossword, it was attacked. I''m worried about it happening a third time. The city has become a very dangerous place these past few days and I don''t think these are coincidences."

    "... Things have gotten dangerous... But that''s the perfect time to show strength, isn''t it? Besides, the city is increasing the patrols of gendarmes, and my speeches always attract a lot of them anyway, making sure I don''t whip the crowd up into too much of an uproar and all. I''m certain it will be safe."

    "The Glass Garden had the Royal Guards protecting it, and they still attacked it, people still died. Even ''safe'' isn''t quite safe, Auguste... And you know the gendarmes, they''re not precisely pictures of grace and heroism!"

    "That is true..." He thinks about my words for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure these things aren''t coincidences?"

    "... Because I was at both places when they were attacked, and there were two key similarities. One was a blonde woman, about my age, she was at both scenes. And the other was their objective. They wanted to steal paintings, specifically ones painted by a woman named ''Gina Silk''."

    Now it¡¯s Celeste''s turn to ponder for a moment, trying to spin thoughts in her head until they form a cohesive shape. "That painting in the crossword, ''The Darkness of the Winter Sunrise'', that''s one of Gina Silk''s paintings as well. They aren''t especially noteworthy; I don''t know why they would be used as a crossword hint."

    "Unless it was being used as a signal for someone somewhere." I think I just unraveled a conspiracy... I might¡¯ve been proud of myself if I hadn''t gotten shot for this, if my friends and loved ones hadn''t almost been shot too.

    "Someone who might have another gang of violent flunkies ready to cause chaos and steal paintings, who might need to coordinate them in a city with a lot of gendarmes, if not a competent gendarmerie."

    "... I see..." Auguste thinks for a few moments, before giving a resigned sigh. "If I cancel the speech on the day of, people aren''t going to get the word in time to not show up. And moreover... These are the same people who shot you. If we cancel, they might disappear into the shadows, realizing their little signaling method has been discovered and switching to a new one. And then we won''t ever have a chance to bring them to justice."

    "... Auguste-"

    Pasche of all people gives a nod, flashing a smile in Auguste''s direction. "So you''re willing to act as bait, while the rest of us hunt down the people who hurt Serena. You''re braver than I thought a politician was capable of, Monsieur Rosierte."

    "A courageous politician may not be a common thing, but I am hoping to blaze a trail, Mademoiselle Pasche." It seems the compliment goes to the man''s head; he''s grinning.

    I look to Celeste to maybe be a voice of reason, but she¡¯s quite amped up about this idea too. "If they think they can hurt our Serena and get away with it, they have another thing coming!"

    Maybe Xena will be the one to tell them that this was a bad plan? "... I agree. The sooner we can stop the people trying to hurt our dear general, the sooner we can stop having to treat her wounds."

    ... Maybe Katarina will- What am I even thinking, of course she''s on board with this plan... At least as soon as Xena passes it on to her in German.

    They''re all willing to throw themselves into an obvious trap, just for me. "... Okay, we''ll do it."

    Pasche''s gaze falls back on me, and she looks about ready to throw me out the nearest window. "... I think you meant to say that WE will do this, right? We, as in the people at this table who aren''t you."

    "I can''t let you all walk into whatever is going to happen here for my sake. You might get hurt-"

    "You got shot! You actually got hurt! Serena, for the love of the gods, just let one single thing go, to save your fucking life!"

    Xena leans in, giving me her best ''your forehead is about to be flicked'' expression. "You reopened your wounds last time, it''s a miracle you didn''t bleed to death before Pasche and I found you."

    I look down, even if I can''t let them go alone I simply cannot meet their gazes. "... And you two were okay. Her Majesty was okay. Everyone got out alright. If I wasn''t there... Pasche, I said I''d hurt for Her Majesty, bleed for her. I''d bleed for you too. And Xena, and Katarina and Theophania and Lazierte and Celeste and Auguste and... I only have one life to give but I''m going to keep giving it for everyone I care about even if they don''t get along. I won''t let you all go into the world of violence alone."

    I seem to have given quite the dramatic little speech to my feet... But I feel better, I think. I think I needed to hear what I just said, that it''s a step towards understanding what is and isn''t normal, to balancing my goddess and my friends.

    Pasche herself seems to be looking down at my feet too, just a little bit pissed off at my sentiments. "Don''t think being sweet will make me put you in danger... Someone who loves you shouldn''t make you bleed for them."

    "You''d bleed for me too."

    "But that''s different-"

    "You seemingly like doing it, you''ve taken shots for me just like I have for Her Majesty. So you of all people should understand, right? ... I''d never demand you bleed for me; I don''t want you to bleed at all. But you expect me to accept that you want to, don''t you?"

    She winces, almost as if I''ve gone and shot her myself. She''s quiet, the entire table is for a moment, the question of what to do with me hangs heavy in the air... Until Xena says something in German.

    And Katarina responds, giving a conspiratorial little nod and her usual smile. This catches the eyes of Pasche and I, the two of us looking at the pair of foreigners at the table¡­

    And Xena herself gives something of a smirk. "I think I have a solution to our little conundrum. If we don''t want our dear general to get herself shot again, then perhaps we should treat her as a general, rather than a common foot soldier."

    I realize her meaning quickly and audibly swallow. "You... You don''t mean-"

    "If we''re really taking you with us, then we''re going to bring an army."

 Chapter Thirty

    Katarina''s Greenjackets are at least sensible enough to not wear their Alemannian uniforms to the speech... Given the events of two days ago having a company of men and women dressed like terrorist mercenaries surrounding and patrolling the speech might make people a little bit anxious. Which, given the surprising number of people who have come to see Auguste speak, could easily become as deadly as the other two incidents around Alesia. Katarina had been nice enough to use some of the absurd sum we''d paid her to buy her troops ''disguises'', her word for entirely normal civilian clothes... So long as you didn¡¯t look too hard, they¡¯d almost pass for a perfectly normal militia.

    I just wish they could have left their ''Leather bayonets'' at home. At least most people don''t notice, but a handful of city folk have to be very calmly talked down from a panic attack at the sight of them. Survivors of Triumph Square perhaps... Survivors who were going outside again, only to find themselves in the most dangerous place in Alesia today. Poor folks¡­

    I sit myself at the edge of the crowd, where I¡¯ll be able to gauge the people''s reactions, and able to escape if necessary... And able to rest on some assembled chairs, a blessing as my recent wounds made ''standing up'' something of an issue for me. Pasche sat at my side, staring alternately at my bandages in case a wound somehow reopened as I sat down, and at my face for any sign of pain. Katarina is hidden behind the stage; it was decided that the seven-foot-tall bear woman who would not surrender her halberd should maybe be out of the public eye. Xena is with her too, for obvious reasons¡­

    "Serena, you''re sure you have to be here for this?" Pasche taps her fingers on her knee, wearing her mailed gloves and occasionally kicking the leg just a little. "We have soldiers with us this time, we''re not being taken by surprise. Surely you can trust us, right?"

    I put my hand on hers to stop her tapping, and I give her my best smile. "You should know that I''m the kind of girl that leads from the front, Pasche... Besides, none of you know what that blonde woman looks like, so you don''t know to look for trouble. I''m still useful to you in some ways, you know!"

    "I... I never meant to imply."

    "Hehe... I know it comes from a place of wanting to protect me, Pasche."

    "That is definitely part of it..."

    She looks down a bit, head weighed down by something. I reach out to stroke her hair. Maybe whatever it is, I can help her with it... Given that she curls up a little more at the touch, it seems that ''maybe'' is a ''no''.

    "Good people of Alesia! Bakers, tailors, millers, smiths, servants, gardeners, all the rest! I thank you for entrusting me with your time!" Auguste''s speech is starting... And I have to admit to being somewhat curious, unlike Pasche who remains curled under my fingers.

    The crowd is clearly interested too, all completely focused on Auguste upon his makeshift stage, sitting upon their hastily assembled chairs or standing around in a mass. I have to give it to the man, when he needs to be heard, he can be heard. What my brother is on a battlefield, Auguste is on a stage in Alesia.

    "I make reference to your jobs quite deliberately I''m afraid. You see, your labors are exactly what makes this city, makes this country function. Your hard work and skill is what allows our very society to exist! And yet, what is your reward for being the backbone of our very way of life? A meager wage and a small home, a living that does not afford you the dignity your life deserves!"

    There are murmurs of agreement among the crowd, little nods and affirmations, and even I must admit that I don''t find fault in his words. I still feel the need to slip a hand down to hold Pasche''s, but that might simply be because I have not seen Auguste this fiery since I was properly introduced to him.

    "So where does the money go? Where do the fruits of your labor, that you rightfully toiled for, that would not exist without your expertise and efforts, go? To Woolen patriarchs, to Cotton capital holders, to rentier and to nobility. To people who haven''t worked a day in their life, have not earned a coin or built any foundations for our society, but feel entitled to weigh it down!"

    The crowd grows louder, there are cheers here and there, energy courses through the men and women standing before Auguste... This absolutely could cause an incident. I''m not entirely unconvinced it would be justified... Pasche slips off her mailed glove to hold my hand more gently, giving a squeeze, and I run my thumb over the back of her hand.

    "Avernia is a rich nation. A nation so rich it''s difficult to even fathom how rich it is! And all its riches, all its wealth, it all comes down to you, all of you! Just imagine what we could do with the immense riches of our land, of our people, if only it was not squandered on rent, on unfair taxation, on salaries and dividends to useless capitalists! If we disappeared tomorrow, Avernia would crumble in a single day! If they stopped ''working'' tomorrow, we would likely have a fairer country for it!"

    "... Serena... Was it right for The Convention to take my father?" Pasche gently whispers in my ear, in a sea of cheers which gives its own answer.

    I honestly had to think about it... Pasche''s father had been arrested for unfair taxation of peasants, it was probably the right thing to do to stop him... "... I think The Convention should have considered the consequences before doing so. It definitely wasn''t right to draft you though."

    "I was a useless idle rich like the rest. Even if I didn''t hurt anyone directly, I didn''t contribute. Maybe I deserved what happened to me."

    "... If you deserved it, it''s only because I got to meet you." I feel rather flushed even as the words leave my mouth, and I find myself grasping for some control of the situation with a nervous little laugh. "Chestnut absolutely deserved better though."

    "Better than a shallow grave, yeah... I guess no amount of politics will make me disagree with that." The memory clearly stings, and yet it provokes a smile from Pasche. "... Thank you, Serena. I don''t know if I have any answers but... I''m happy to have you at the very least."

    And that blush continues, it seems to find Pasche''s face as well... Though it drains a little as Auguste''s speech resumes. "And why do we do this? As a society, why do the idle rich, the useless owning class, continue to exist? Because they always have. This tragic misallocation of resources, this criminal waste of our nation''s prosperity only persists due to inertia, solely because it hasn''t been stopped yet! It has no merit, no function which could justify its perpetuation, it is merely a blemish that our society has yet to correct! And for every day we delay another person starves to death in the street! Another family is evicted for not being able to pay the rent! ... Another child dies, because her parents couldn''t afford medical care. Every moment we delay is a tragedy, and the Humanist Salon will not abide any more tragedies!"

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The crowd has reached a fever pitch now, cheering and yelling. If Auguste wanted he could probably send them to the Palace to tear it down brick by brick. With this many people, he might just pull it off too... But Auguste won''t do that, I''m certain he won''t-

    "I heard the King''s conspirin'' with foreign powers! That all these wars were his fault! That he wants to silence us with foreign troops!" A voice from the crowd¡­

    I turn my head to try to catch the source of that voice, and to my horror I catch the slightest glimpse of a familiar face. A blonde woman, dressed like an Icenian gentleman heading to an opera. This is not going to end well.

    "Pasche, we have to get out of the crowd. Now!" I release Pasche''s hand and slip her glove back upon it.

    While the murmurs of the crowd begin to spread¡­

    "The King''s a traitor?!¡±

    "I knew he was weak, but this?!

    "They drafted my cousin for this, those bastards!"

    "So many dead young men...''

    "He was going to kill us all!"

    Pasche slips herself under my arm, helping me to my feet. She can''t make getting up any less painful, but she can at least make it quicker, and help carry me away from my chair... Just a little too late. The crowd begins to stand as well, the crowd begins to dance to its own tune now... It had taken on a life of its own.

    "Ladies, gentlemen, please! We cannot allow our passions and our righteous anger to be misplaced by baseless conspiracy theories! We are not violent savages, we are people who demand to be heard-" Auguste''s voice seems so much more distant now that the crowd is riled up and ready for violence¡­

    Now it¡¯ll be up to Katarina''s Greenjackets to keep the peace, to make sure no one goes too far... None of them speak Avernian, do they? ... Is it appropriate to pray to Her Majesty to ensure the safety of a mob that wants her dead?

    "I bet there''s proof of this at the Royal Palace! Let''s storm the place!" That blonde woman again, she''s directing the crowd with absurd ease... And then slipping past them, into the gallery.

    ... I can''t be in two places at once, either I stop her in the gallery or I try to calm the crowd. This... This is their trap this time! Whatever these paintings are, this woman is willing to let hundreds of people be injured or killed to get them¡­ Her Majesty was willing to die to protect hers... Gods forgive me¡­

    "Pasche, that blonde woman is headed for the gallery. We need to stop her!" My orders sound just a little pathetic as I give them literally leaning on her just to walk.

    "But... What about the crowd?! What do we do about-"

    "Without that woman riling them up they should calm down soon! We just need to trust Katarina''s troops-"

    The crack of musket shot suddenly draws the attention of everyone in attendance, from Auguste to the crowd to the Greenjackets. For a moment, I try to discern which mercenary had been stupid enough to fire upon civilians... And found that none of them had. Gendarmes are closing in on the speech... And were opening fire upon the crowd and Greenjackets alike. The actual Gendarmerie!

    Auguste had said they were known for trying to provoke a fight at his rallies, but this surely was too far! Unless¡­ Unless the blonde woman provoked the Gendarmerie somehow? Does she even have that power, that kind of pull? Just who the hell is she?!

    I don¡¯t have time to speculate, whatever¡¯s happening here requires me to be a General again. ¡°Pasche, take me to Katarina! We need to give the Greenjackets their orders!¡±

    "R... Right!"

    Pasche, it turns out, is as reliable a steed as she is a rider. She manages to quickly rush me over to where Katarina and Xena are hidden, along with a handful of Greenjackets, presumably protecting their boss. Katarina gives me an odd look, clearly not expecting to see me back here¡­

    "Katarina- ... Wait, I can''t speak German..." I curse myself for my ignorance under my breath, knowing some of that foreign nonsense right now would be a big help. "Xena, tell Katarina to tell the Greenjackets to protect the crowd from the Gendarmes. Whatever¡¯s happening here, we need to prioritize their safety!"

    She relays the order to Katarina, who then bellows it from behind the stage. The sound of incredibly loud German seems to make the entire world go silent for a moment, until the muskets sang again. It seemed we had a proper gunfight on our hands... The subsequent sounds of screaming and wet squelching implied a ''Leather Bayonet'' fight on our hands as well... Maybe the crowd could be frightened into inaction¡­

    Auguste quickly joins us behind the stage, having well and truly lost control of the situation. "... I knew the gendarmes were desperate to discredit us, but planting people in our crowd to shout conspiracy theories? I did not expect-"

    "Auguste, that wasn''t the work of the gendarmes... It was that blonde woman!" I feel almost stupid saying it, attributing an incident like this to a single mysterious woman was a touch absurd I had to admit. "She was riling up the crowd, and I''d bet anything that these gendarmes are here because of her!"

    "... Whatever the reason this is happening, I need to get everyone out of here safely. Do you think your people could secure an escape route for the crowd?"

    "I think they could-"

    Pasche shakes my shoulder very gently, clearly not wanting to cause me much pain but requiring my attention. "If we did that, if we had them all break out, then the remaining gendarmes would probably be coming right for us next as we head into the gallery. We''ll be surrounded, and outnumbered, and we don''t even know if the blonde woman has people in there ready and waiting for us yet! ... The crowd can probably overcome the gendarmes, there are enough of them. Then we can storm the gallery in force! ... Surely that''s the safest option..."

    Auguste looks aghast, staring at Pasche as if looking at a ghoul. "Hundreds of people would die doing that. Civilians, people who just want a better lot in life! And who even knows the consequences of brawls with the gendarmerie, real or fake as they may be! ... Serena, we simply can''t just throw these people into the jaws of this conspiracy!"

    I swallow, every second I delay is another dead Greenjacket, another stray shot hitting a poor baker or miller or whoever else! ... And this is why I have to be here. So I can make the stupid decisions.

    "... Katarina, tell the Greenjackets to break out of the gendarme''s encirclement, and to evacuate Auguste and the crowd. We''ll make do with the men we have here."

    Pasche makes a noise somewhere between a scream and a garbled curse, but simply sighs and nods. She''s probably very glad she wore her armor to the speech, and that she had replaced her snapped saber. She''s probably a lot less glad that I''m her friend right now.

    Xena, looking surprisingly relieved by my poor decision making, passes my instructions on in German. Katarina gives another guttural scream, and then points Auguste towards the crowd, trying to give him a smile. Auguste freezes for just a moment... But nods, and rushes to join his flock. Which left Katarina, Xena, Pasche, myself... And ten Greenjackets, to follow the mysterious blonde woman into the gallery.

    I''m regretting not going with Pasche''s plan already, but it helps to know that I''d regret the alternative for the rest of my life. And if I end up regretting this path for the rest of my life, at least I won''t be regretting long.

 Chapter Thirty One

    The first volley makes the flaws in my decision making very, very apparent, as three of the Greenjackets fall to a squadron of waiting gendarmes. Pasche, who I am still relying on to carry me around, quickly pulls me behind a supporting pillar of the grand gallery to shield me from any gunfire. It seems a strange thing to do. The bullets are already past us after all, and those gendarmes look terrified.

    And can''t reload before the Greenjackets catch them. "Rush them! Save your shots for any of them who aren''t on the ground floor!"

    ... A slightly cruel command, one which puts the Greenjackets in the most possible peril... But also a completely superfluous one, it seems that they are entirely prepared to engage the gendarmes in melee of their own accord. I suppose it¡¯s ridiculous to expect them to see anything other than a slashing solution to their fleshy problems. What I didn''t expect is for one of the shot Greenjackets to pull herself to her feet, joining the charge, limping with her bayonet at the ready. They really are zealous folk... And brutally effective, despite Pasche''s best efforts I manage to peek around the corner to see what becomes of these gendarmes.

    That the Greenjackets can slash through flesh and joints so quickly is a horrifying miracle. Already our path is paved with strewn limbs and a carpet of brilliant crimson, all produced with a butcher''s precision... Are they going to come back for these limbs? As much as I don''t like the idea of turning the National Art Gallery into another meat commissary, this is for the good of the capital, for everyone. One butcher''s yard to prevent another¡­

    I tap Pasche with my hand, willing her onwards. "The path is clear. Advance!"

    We make our way to the door out of the vestibule into the gallery proper, where one particularly... ''Cheeky'' Greenjacket decides to announce our presence to any gendarmes on the other side of the door, opening it just wide enough to throw the head of one of their former comrades among them. This provokes some panicked musket shots, but those are soon drowned out by the screaming.

    Katarina decides to take point, following this bit of ''good fun and cheer'' by kicking down the door, sending it flying off its hinges and into a poor, unfortunate gendarme.Both the door and the gendarme break on impact. Katarina steps in slowly, with a ballerina¡¯s grace, and for a second she might be the only thing in the world, as everything freezes to make room for her sheer presence... She¡¯s smiling.

    She roars; an utterly inhuman utterance that makes me want to throw up just hearing it. And then the laughing begins.

    Katarina''s Greenjackets are utterly enraptured by whatever noise their commander just made, eagerly pouring into the room, firing upon sharpshooters on higher floors and carving apart any gendarmes in reach. Their civilian clothes are utterly saturated in blood already, producing a scene out of hell as our enemies scream and flee, or are cut to pieces where they stand. I have unleashed a monster upon them... But isn''t that my job? To be the head of a monster?

    "Pasche. We should advance with the Greenjackets."

    The look she gives me is not as wrathful as it normally is. It¡¯s more pleading, silently begging me to reconsider without a word. I draw my pistol from where I hid it on my person, I can still be helpful! And Pasche relents, pulling me into the heart of the fighting. As she drags me into the fight, we pass by the victims of my actions. Some of them are still writhing and crying where they fell, missing arms and legs, but not yet dead. And where they had fallen they whispered their regrets to themselves.

    "He... Rivauld said no one would be stupid enough to come here with the distraction in the square. He said we''d be safe..."

    "What are these creatures? We fought beasts with those insane bayonets in Triumph Square, I thought we''d killed them all!"

    "Why did I believe him? He was just a stranger with a conspiracy theory, why did we come here?"

    "... These aren''t humanist terrorists, there''s nothing human about this."

    I¡¯m tempted to spend the only bullet I have on trying to ease the suffering of at least one of them, but then my eyes catch another of the sharpshooters, aiming right at me. Which can only mean one thing. They¡¯re going to shoot Pasche, since she¡¯s going to get herself shot again protecting me! And I will not give either the sharpshooter, or Pasche, the satisfaction. I fire, and while my injured, pained form can¡¯t hit a target with a handgun at almost 100 yards, my efforts are enough to send them scrambling for cover. Pasche is safe, for the moment.

    Katarina, having carved her way through the gendarmes on the ground, throws her halberd at one of the men above, skewering him into a painting with extreme violence. I¡¯m shocked that she would ever relinquish her weapon, she seemed so attached to it¡­ I see her begin to climb one of the hall''s pillars, creating her own handholds as she goes by slamming her hand against the stone with such force that it causes cracks. She soon makes it to the second floor, reclaims her halberd, and watches as one of the gendarmes jumps the railing onto the ground floor just to escape her, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. He survives... Just long enough for Greenjackets to get him. I have to hand it to Katarina''s mercenaries, they¡¯re a lot less sadistic than The Wolfman''s. They don''t play with their food, they simply cut it apart and bleed it dry.

    Xena finally catches up with us, having done what I should have done and hung back, waiting for the violence to end. Pasche gives her a look, Xena is caked in blood despite being far from the bloodletting... She must''ve been trying to administer care for the two fallen Greenjackets. The look in her eyes tells me there wasn''t much she could do.

    Pasche meanwhile lets her eyes drift to the second floor, from which limbs or heads occasionally fall, or even whole gendarmes as they jump to try to escape her... And then Pasche¡¯s eyes return to Xena. "... How are you sweet on this woman anyway?"

    Xena covers her mouth, apparently Pasche''s comment threatened to give her a genuine expression. "What? We''re not... I¡¯m not ¡®sweet¡¯ on her! We''re just... Associates. And she''s a fascinating research topic-"

    "I think you ought to tell her that some time then, if you believe it."

    Katarina jumps off the second floor, the last of the gendarmes in her arms, him screaming all the while. The stone floor cracks and crumbles where she lands, and she places the terrified gendarme in the new crater at my feet. Satisfied that she has delivered me an appropriate present she makes her way to Xena, talking to her in excited German. And Xena... Does smile a little, even as she is very clearly still flustered by Xena standards.

    I spend a moment confused as to why she brought me a gendarme, before realizing that she¡¯s spared one for me to interrogate. It''s honestly considerate of her. I''ve never been to the National Art Gallery after all, and this man might be able to lead us around... As soon as he stops screaming.

    I throw my magic upon him and feel my wounds ache as my heart takes on the strain of a horrified soul. "... Where is the blonde woman?"

    The magic manages to bring him some bravery, but he''s still clearly unsettled... And confused. "Blonde woman? A young man named Rivauld told us to guard this place from humanist terrorists. He didn''t mention a blonde woman!"

    "So Rivauld is the ringleader here... Alright then, where is he? He''ll lead us right to our prey, I''m sure of it."

    "He''s... He''s in the east wing, in the archives. He asked to be left unobserved so there aren''t any of us in there, just a few milling about outside. Whatever he was doing, he had to do it alone... It was something about a painting?"

    East wing archive... And barely any resistance? Odd... "Okay. You can go. Run out the front door and tell your comrades not to follow us in here."

    He gives an even more confused noise, and my power wanes enough that he becomes a mess of screams again. But he does run, that he can at least do. At least one person will get out of this mess un-mauled. Now it¡¯s time to regroup, reform, and take the east wing archive... There isn''t much to reform, despite our whirlwind sweep of this grand hall we are down four Greenjackets, there are only four left... And Katarina seems utterly littered with bullets, which she seems to ignore.

    If only I could ignore the many bullets my comrade is riddled with. "Katarina! You''ve been shot!"

    She looks down on her body, noticing the bullet holes, and nods her agreement. She has indeed been shot; she now knows this. She picks at one of the holes with her fingers, pulling a bullet out of her flesh and letting it fall upon the floor.

    Xena gets up on her tippy toes and reaches up, just barely able to flick the giant Katarina on the forehead. "No. Bad."

    Katarina looks down; it seems Xena''s scolding is more discouragement than over a dozen bullets... And Xena relents, and gives the poor killing machine a hug, giving her some reassurance in German. A reassurance that makes even Pasche blush, which leaves me wondering just how ''not sweet'' the two of them really are with one another.

    The Greenjackets seem to be giggling and tittering among themselves, apparently seeing their boss with her ¡®associate¡¯ gets a smile out of them, even with their reduced numbers.

    Reduced numbers... If that gendarme was lying, and if there are more guards than we think, then we really can''t take another stand-up fight. "... Let''s try to keep a lower profile this time. I don''t know what Katarina''s opinion is, but I''d really prefer that she remain as un-shot as possible."

    "And the rest of us, of course." Pasche is glaring at me as she adds that little addendum, but her eyes quickly soften.

    Xena relays my orders in German to the non-Avernians amongst us, and while they seem rather disappointed, they also comply. We make our way to the door of the east wing rather more subtly... They''d probably be guarding the door, this stealth plan already isn''t going well.

    "We... We can''t take the door, they''ll see us."

    Xena relays my comment in German, and Katarina nods her approval... Before kicking down the wall right next to the door. The guards in the East wing immediately see us... And subsequently throw down their muskets and surrender. There are only a handful of them, and only around the entrance, which they must have quickly realized is in convenient ''Katarina'' range. She appears to be the limit of Gendarme discipline.

    "... So much for stealth... Where is the Archive?!"

    One of the troops weakly points to an unimpressive looking door, almost like an afterthought in the building''s design, before giving a nervous gulp. "Can... Can we go?"

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.I nod, and the dam breaks on the gendarmes¡¯ sheer, unbridled terror as they run past us, through the hole Katarina made, not even bothering with the door. One of them in their haste trips over a comrade''s lopped off arm, finding himself face down in a puddle of his dead friends. He quickly gets back up and joins the rest of his friends in their flight... Am I the villain of a horror novel?

    Let''s hope this ''Rivauld'' will be as scared of me as I am. I gesture for Pasche to walk me to the archive door, deciding to open it with my own hand... The Archive is a rather small circular room compared to the vastness of the open gallery wings and its central space, but it fits us all well enough. It also seems to fit hundreds, maybe even thousands of paintings, all slid into metal shelves built into the walls. A warehouse of old and forgotten art that no one cares to see...

    And at the end of the room, on a raised platform where another shelf stood, was... The blonde woman from before. Not some man named Rivauld... Did... Did the gendarmes simply believe she was a man? Was she like Pasche? ... Was she like Pasche in reverse? ¡­

    "Ah! Mademoiselle Pollineux! If I were a lesser schemer then I¡¯d be upset to see you!" She... They? They give a theatrical bow. In their hands is a carved-out painting. "But that''s the way of plans going awry, isn''t it? When the gods close a door, open your very own window."

    ... Of course they have to be a thespian. "... Who are you?!"

    "Ah! Forgive me for not introducing myself in our last two meetings. I am Rivauld, criminal mastermind and author of your misfortune! Don''t worry about introducing yourself however, I happen to know more about you than I had ever planned, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    "You don''t seem to know that my name is Serena!"

    "Don''t you just love it when your little Queen Katje calls you that?"

    I feel like I''ve just heard something profane, Her Majesty''s actual name... I didn''t even know her name before this, I had to be told by this pretentious ham... Who is insulting me! And insulting Her Majesty! Well, we¡¯ll see how smug they are with lead in them! I gesture for the troops to shoot. Four muskets fire, the lead flies¡­

    And the bullets stop in mid-air, hanging in the middle of nothing between Rivauld and I. Which gives them an opportunity to cackle as they playfully flick the bullets out of the air, taking their time having fun with the lead shot. "Hehehahaha! They said personal kinetic dampeners were still a technology in their infancy, but this child seems to be an overachiever!"

    ... Personal... What? What in the hell is this person talking about?! I pull out my own gun and... It clicks uselessly. I spent my one shot on protecting Pasche, didn''t I.

    And I''d do it again, but I''m still unbelievably furious. "What the hell YOU?! ... Why are you willing to kill so many just to steal some old paintings that nobody wants?! How can you just stop bullets in mid-air, and what is going on?!"

    They give a smile, and just to infuriate me further they begin to strut up and down their raised platform, treating it like their very own stage.

    "You know, it''s funny. I thought when I retrieved Malmo from the Battle of Canstatt, allowed him to give testimony against you to The Convention, and got you removed from command of The Army of The East, that you would be a spent force. That you would simply go home, and that the world would be rid of one of the Queen''s pawns. Turns out I simply pushed you to the very edge of the board, and made a pawn into a knight. One which simply will not stop causing problems for me. I must confess, you protecting the Queen and keeping her own Velvet Painting from my grasp did mess with my plans somewhat. It¡¯s kept The Heart from my grasp for just that little while longer.¡±

    The Heart again¡­ No, more importantly! "You... You tried to harm Her Majesty?!"

    "The plan, if you''re really so interested in hearing it, was to get her good and drugged, beat her till she gave the location of her painting, then dump her bullet-riddled carcass on the doorstep of The Convention of Humanity''s meeting hall with a little note saying ''You''re welcome!''. Just imagine the headlines, Serena. Just imagine the chaos!"

    "You... You sadistic fucking monster!"

    I slip free of Pasche and attempt to charge down this odious thing, this utter moral vacuum who would dare raise a hand against Her Majesty! ... And I immediately fall, my feet are simply not up to the task of carrying me even four steps, let alone up a staircase and all the way to this beast. I¡¯m certain I feel my chest wound begin to bleed again¡­

    Pasche rushes over to my side, picking me up from the floor as best she can... But her eyes find Rivauld, and she stares upon them with pure hatred. "So, what, you thought that was going to provoke a civil war or something?"

    "It was the first step. I had so many other things to do after, all with surgical precision. If everything had gone according to plan, this nation would burn and the entirety of La''an would follow."

    "... And where do paintings fit into this?! Because your flunkies shot my fucking girl, and I will get an explanation out of you before I beat you to death!"

    "Hehe, if you don''t know even the secrets of the Velvet paintings, then I don''t think it''s worth explaining things to you... But it matters naught now, my plan has been ruined. Even if I could simply take the Queen and her painting some other day, it''d still be ruined. After all, I can hardly keep my old plan now that Mademoiselle Pollineux has presented me with a much better one!"

    Pasche draws her saber, she¡¯s ready to abandon me to the floor and rush up the stairs, to try a charge of her very own. "Serena will not be a pawn in your twisted bullshit!"

    "Oh, I know that now. I am not looking at a pawn... I am looking at a knight, one that does not obey my schemes. One that can be trusted in fact, relied upon, to not obey."

    I am racked with coughs as Pasche manages to get my useless form to its feet again, but I will not let this contemptuous creature laugh at her! "I will not be manipulated by the likes of you! Soldiers! Take this one prisoner!"

    Xena relays my orders, and the Greenjackets start to make their way up the stairs... Only to be stopped as Rivauld reaches into their cloak and produces a grenade. A bizarre-looking grenade, one which seems to change the air in the room around it. Whatever it is, it¡¯s preternaturally terrifying.

    "You people would not know the story of Prometheus. It was part of the mythology of a land named Greece, a place that existed over four million years ago. Before the cradle of life itself was melted into an eternal flood of gore and viscera and set ablaze in the name of a dead child... Prometheus stole fire from the gods, shared it with the mortals of that world, and for that was eternally punished, having his organs torn out by a giant bird for all eternity." Rivauld had stopped pacing, had stopped laughing, had stopped smiling... "I thought once that the moral of the tale was to keep your secrets close to your chest, that showing generosity was a way to make yourself open to reprisal. But I think it might be time to do as Prometheus did. And show the mortals the power of God''s Fire¡­"

    They throw the grenade down at us, in the center of the room to catch as many of us in the blast as possible. One brave, heroic Greenjacket throws herself upon the grenade as the others go to chase Rivauld, who pulls out a strange-looking pistol... And fires at a window, high up in the circular room, suddenly being pulled towards it as if by magic. They punch through the glass and jump... No one can survive a fall of that height... And now we were left alone in a room with a grenade. One that doesn''t explode. A decoy? I look down on the Greenjacket who so bravely sacrificed herself to save us all... And she is very clearly dead somehow. I¡¯m confused¡­

    And then she begins to burn. Rapidly. A fire burns right through her core and now smoke pours out from her back, smoke that quickly fills the room and instantly ignites any painting it touches... And begins to melt the stone walls of the Archive.

    We are frozen for a moment until the heat of the flame goes from utterly negligible to nearly lethal in a single moment, and as the nightmare smoke permeates more of the room I scream. "Run!¡±

    Pasche drags me back through the door out of the room, the Greenjackets try their absolute hardest to slip to the other side of the fire... One of them even makes it through alive, if not entirely intact, missing some of her hair and some of the skin on her face and hands. Katarina is the last to move, staring at her melting comrades with utter horror. I try to reach out to her with my magic, to try and give her the strength and bravery to deal with this... But I can''t.

    Katarina has no living heart to beat with my own, and my magic slips off her mind like... Like melting stone off the walls. Like flesh melting off bones. She¡¯s frozen, and far beyond my influence-

    "Katarina, please!"

    ... I don''t even know if she understands my words, but she clearly gets the meaning of my scream. And she finally returns to our present world of violence, finding Xena pulling on her hand, trying to drag her away from the fire... And finding me, screaming at her from the other side of the door. She picks up Xena and gets running. She and Xena practically fly out the door, and not a second too soon, as the walls of the Archive begin to warp and sag, and the door catches fire, burning to nothing in an instant. Not even ash remains.

    The smoke follows us out of the archive room, catching the displayed paintings of the gallery, spreading throughout the East Wing of the building... And growing faster. Faster than Pasche and I, limping together away from this absurd horror, this fire that does not seem to understand the rules of fire.

    "Pasche... We aren''t going to make it!" I cough, and for a second I am terrified I¡¯ve caught a lungful of whatever that smoke is, before realizing it¡¯s simply my wound making its presence known. "... I''m slowing you down!"

    "Then I just have to go faster!" Pasche tries to speed up, but she¡¯s already going as fast as she can and that simply is not good enough¡­

    She is going to die. Not for me, but with me. In that moment I finally understand her at least a little bit, as she drags my useless form across the gallery. I understand her... And I am afraid.

    I try to shake myself free, I am not going to let her throw her life away for someone useless, it wouldn''t be right for her to die with me here¡­

    It¡¯s a wasted effort on my part, Katarina grabs both Pasche and I as she runs past, carrying all three of us in her arms and still sprinting full tilt. She can outrun the smoke, even as wounded as she is, even as terrified. We slip into the hole she had left in the wall back into the main gallery, and I make the idiot mistake of looking behind me.

    The gallery is collapsing behind us, the walls are nothing but slurry and the whole structure is falling apart. Anything that can burn burns completely, and anything that can¡¯t becomes liquid and weak. The gallery is becoming a puddle. A molten, impossible puddle. Katarina isn''t breathing as she carries us away from this hell, her panicked footfalls crack the ground beneath her, much like The Wolfman had at a full sprint... We approach the front door, and Katarina turns herself around, using her back as a battering ram to shield us from having to bear the brunt of bashing the door open... We are in the open air again... We are in a place that makes sense again... A place with only a handful of dead civilians, Greenjackets, and gendarmes... Are there any other gendarmes in the gallery, waiting to ambush us in other wings, in other rooms?

    Watching as the building finally collapses entirely, its final blaze reaching far into the sky, masonry seeping along the ground and pouring into the street, I have my answer. There certainly are no gendarmes in that building anymore... Still, the fire starts to die down, and the molten stone soup it left in its wake cools rapidly. The old wisdom is true, the hottest blazes are the most short-lived¡­

    Katarina finally, gently, lays the three of us onto the ground, before falling to the ground herself in a heap, weeping loudly. It hurts, it physically hurts to listen to it... But if anyone has earned the right to cry, it¡¯s Katarina. She had led ten of her priests into the gallery and only one returned, disfigured and maimed. She babbles in her German nonsense between sobs, and I take a moment to look into her eyes... There are no tears. But her cries are undeniably real. Perhaps I have been too harsh on her, thinking of her as an inhuman thing. She absolutely is not human... But she also undeniably is.

    "... Just like Her Majesty..."

    Pasche slowly crawls over to me and holds me, shaking. It seems she''s reached the limit of her devotion, and now that the chance to die in my name has gone up in literal smoke, she wants to be comforted. I hold her back, albeit a little awkwardly, with the one arm that would still obey me¡­

    And then she begins to whisper, and I realize she¡¯s translating for Katarina. "There''s not a trace of them left, not a scrap, not a morsel. How can they rejoin the circle of life if there is nothing left of them to eat? How could a fire burn hot enough to erase a soul?"

    Looking past Pasche, trying to ignore the apparent Leather sentiments she¡¯s translating, my eyes catch Xena. Xena is conflicted, looking between Katarina, and the still-warm remnants of the gallery. Her curiosity and her affection tear her in two different directions... She gives Pasche a look before making her way to the ruins, studying them closely. As she examines the damage the King''s Own Fire Patrol arrives with their pumping engine, albeit far too late to actually fight the fire. Uselessly, they spray the remnants of the gallery with their hose, perhaps worried about potential cinders or still smoldering parts of the ruins under the rock slurry.

    And upon contact with the water, the ruins burst into flames again, forcing Xena to jump backward to avoid the resurgent heat. Whatever this fire was, whatever Rivauld inflicted upon us, it seems to set even water alight on contact. A huge plume of smoke follows, mercifully going straight upwards rather than blowing into any nearby buildings, and the fire patrol turns off the hose as the fire attempts to follow the water, its new source of fuel, to its source... This stuff... This stuff belongs in hell. Whatever we just witnessed is a glimpse of something that can only exist in hell.

    "God''s fire, Rivauld called it... What god would allow this stuff to exist?"

 Chapter Thirty Two

    The Greenjacket Compound is quite evocative of them. Scrappy, eccentric, but resilient. They have set up their base of operations in a dismal, abandoned warehouse on the riverside. Apparently it was used for livestock a century ago before people decided the streets of cities would be more pleasant without pigs and chickens roaming around. Given the Greenjackets are both butchers and livestock both, I have an unpleasant feeling that this is somehow appropriate¡­

    At least it¡¯s spacious, they''d set up quarters for the few hundred remaining Leather Fanatics, and still had room for an armory, a kitchen... A commissary... And this nice little infirmary, where Xena is now patiently removing bullets from Katarina''s body, examining the flesh behind every bullet closely. It appears that any excuse to examine your... ¡®Associate and research project'' is a good one. Not that Katarina seems to mind, sleeping like a rock upon the operating table. Whatever ''chemical solution'' Xena put in her looks like it works a treat...

    I wonder if Katarina dreams? I wonder if there¡¯s a chemical solution to dreams. I wonder if Xena would be willing to share it with me after the week we''ve had.

    Xena looks tired. Which would be understandable if she had ever looked tired before in the entire time I''d known her. She takes drinks from one of the non-descript flasks on her hip pretty frequently as she tries to muster the focus to gently extract lead balls from Katarina...

    Maybe her previous patient had something to do with this, the one surviving Greenjacket from our foray into the Gallery. While Xena had been able to salvage her cheek somewhat, the girl''s left hand had to be entirely amputated. Which she seemed surprisingly ambivalent about... Until Xena had refused her request that it be eaten as quickly as possible. The Greenjacket became quite irate after that, insisting that this part of her body rejoin the circle of life at the earliest opportunity, without delay. Xena, understandably, was more than a little hesitant to feed anyone the ''recently chemically melted'' meat in case of any residue, or in case whatever caused that fire had more absurd properties we didn''t know about.

    Eventually they reached a compromise. The Greenjackets would wash the hand extensively, then use it for soup stock... A compromise that seemed to satisfy the Greenjacket but displease Xena more than she let on. Today simply had not been a good day for the poor girl... Which is why I sat here in the infirmary, watching her work. I¡¯m not sure if my presence is in any way helping but I feel too indebted to do nothing.

    Xena removes what must have been the twentieth bullet, wipes some sweat from her brow... And then turns her attention to me of all people. "... Okay, answer me honestly. What was that kiss about this morning?"

    ... After the day she¡¯s had, she still remembers breakfast? I''d probably have forgotten the whole thing myself if even one more atrocity happened today. I¡¯m surprised that the normally so focused Xena would carry something from that long ago.

    I feel a small impact as a musket ball is flicked lazily into my shoulder from across the room, and I realize I haven''t answered yet. "Uhhh, well... You saved my life. That''s the rule, isn''t it? You''re supposed to kiss your friends if they save your life and it''s normal? I mean, I kissed Pasche when she saved me from that officer in that Meat Commissary, right?"

    "... You sound flustered."

    ... I absolutely sounded flustered. "N... No-"

    Another musket ball, this one hits my stomach. "No, bad. Be honest."

    Is she aiming for my forehead? "... Maybe? I mean, it shouldn''t be all that flustering, it''s just the rules! Kisses are usually super intense romantic things, I couldn''t just get away with kissing someone who wasn''t Her Majesty, it''d be blasphemous! And I''m a good girl, I''d never be blasphemous, so therefore there has to be some reason why the thing I did was okay. Working back from that, I figured out the rule. And since you saved my life, well... Consistency meant I was supposed to kiss you."

    "Consistency..." She spends a moment in thought, before flicking another ball at me, which hits the wall behind me. "And yet, you don¡¯t kiss everyone who saves your life, right? A great many people have, you are a general after all. But you reserve your affections for certain people. I wonder why that might be, Serena.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ Wait a second, that¡¯s not-¡°

    ¡°Didn¡¯t Malmo technically save your life, valiantly holding off the Teutons at Canstatt? You¡¯d never kiss him the way you kissed me, would you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s simply not fair!¡±

    ¡°Those are the rules you told me you had. It¡¯s not my fault if you broke them¡­ It¡¯s not my fault if there¡¯s some other reason you wanted to kiss me.¡±

    There¡¯s an awkward silence after that, as I stew on Xena''s observations about my conduct... I have to admit, I want to show affection to my friends more than some other folks the rule might leave me indebted to. My friends are precious to me, and they¡¯re also vital to both my war efforts and my survival off the battlefield. I liked being affectionate with Lazierte, our hand holding, our occasional sharp cuddles... That kiss on my cheek that I still have not gotten an explanation for. I want to be affectionate with all my friends in the same way, it feels right. But friends aren''t meant to be ''romantic'' together, that¡¯s supposed to be for the special someone in your life, and I have a goddess as the special someone in mine! ... Maybe Xena¡¯s critique comes from her not wanting her friend Serena to be affectionate with her? ... Are we even friends?

    "Xena, are we friends?"

    "... I don''t know.¡± Xena seems conflicted, before simply shrugging. ¡°I''d have to do some more research on the topic to be sure."

    "Would you like to be?"

    "We''re collaborators. That I understand... Besides, you''re dodging the major question."

    "I... What am I dodging now?!"

    "Katarina saved your life today. Are you going to kiss her then? For consistency?"

    "... Are Katarina and I friends?"

    "I think she thinks so. So clearly she''s done her research- Wait-"

    I struggle to my feet and shamble over. Looking down upon the sleeping form of Katarina, deathly still and not breathing, she has a bizarre beauty about her... And I give her a kiss... I get a taste of whatever that ''anesthetic'' stuff Xena put in her is. It tastes sweet... It makes me feel a little dizzy.

    Katarina''s eyes open, and she smiles... A rather sad little smile. Clearly the day''s events still weigh on her, but she is trying to be enthusiastic about... Anything. She asks Xena something in German, and Xena responds in kind, which elicits a slightly forced giggle from Katarina, accompanied by an almost sing-songy bit of foreign nonsense.

    "Xena... Translate?"

    Xena herself gives a sad chuckle, patting Katarina''s head. "She said that she''s fighting for your money but will happily take kisses as performance bonuses."

    "Ah... Hehe..." Now it¡¯s my turn for the sad laugh, but it doesn''t feel as bitter as I expected... Possibly because it is shared. "Well, I guess now she knows the rules."

    "She knows your stupid, inconsistent rules, maybe, but apparently not mine! I put enough anesthetic in her to knock out an entire family! A big one! Like mine used to be!" Xena pouts, before relaying the message to Katarina in German.

    "Ah. Sorry." Katarina gives an apologetic look before going right back to ''sleep'' in an instant, still as a corpse again.

    "... Are you sure she''s actually capable of sleep?" I reach over and tickle under one of Katarina''s armpits, which gets a giggle out of the girl before she tries to emulate a corpse again. "If she can''t even be forced into it..."

    "... Serena, I''d prefer you not speculate as to the physicality of my... Associate and research subject. It might upset her."

    "So, I should question you, just not question your research subjects?"

    "... I suppose you ''should'' upset me, and risk upsetting her... But please don''t."

    "Xena¡­ I think we ARE friends. I don''t read many books or do much ¡®research¡¯, but I think we are. And friends shouldn''t upset one another, that''s another of my rules... With that in mind I''m going to choose to trust you with Katarina, and her body, and I''ll stop speculating."

    "... Thank you. Serena..." Xena reaches down and tries to take another drink from her flask, only to find it empty. "... First time in four years... Serena, as your doctor I absolutely should not ask this of you, but as your friend... I want to trust you."

    "What is it, Xena?"

    "There''s a grove of Leather nearby, I have to assume they''ll have fruit trees. I''m going to need an apple, or rather, its seeds, to make more of my sleep cure. Do you think you can pick one for me without reopening your wounds, or being attacked by terrorists, or something equally dire?"

    "... I will try my best to walk down the street and back without getting into a life-or-death struggle with random ruffians."

    "I hope you''re being sarcastic and that it will not in fact be difficult to avoid being assaulted for five solitary minutes... I''d send Pasche with you, but she''s sleeping after her treatment. And the day she''s had."

    "Y... Yeah. I think I''d prefer to go alone in any case. Have some time to think about things."

    "Well, you of all people have a lot of thinking to do, Serena."

    "Xena!"

    I stick out my tongue at her, but she isn¡¯t wrong. Pasche was going to die in that fire, just to stay by my side, and now I have to decide how to feel about that... I stop by where she¡¯s sleeping in the Greenjacket barracks, and find that her sleep is sound and deep. It¡¯s hard to believe she almost burned to death in what might be the most horrifying conflagration in all of recorded history... She¡¯s not sleeping in her armor, and that makes it clear to see that her treatments are going rather well. Already her form is quite different from the one I shared a bath with. Maybe I should tell her that she''s changing. Maybe that''ll convince her not to kill herself in my name at any given opportunity¡­

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I take her saber from where it leans against her bed, figuring I shouldn¡¯t go on this fruit-picking mission unarmed, just in case of random ruffians. I doubt I can put up much of a fight with my wounds, but maybe I can at least intimidate? ... Or maybe I just want part of Pasche with me, part of her that can''t die. I consider taking her armor too, but it¡¯s nowhere to be seen-

    Or so I thought, it quickly becomes apparent that the Greenjackets are using it as a ball in some kind of high stakes game of catch... These people are bizarre. A whistle sounds and the one holding the ¡®ball¡¯ quickly returns the armor to Pasche''s bedside, while the rest of the Greenjackets make their way to the kitchen... It must¡¯ve been dinner time. The Greenjacket returning Pasche''s armor gives me a look, before gesturing towards the kitchen, as if inviting me to join them. I shake my head, and she looks rather disappointed before making her own way over...

    Did I just get asked out on a date? By a German? To eat human flesh? Today just keeps happening¡­

    I make my way out of the Greenjacket compound, and find the entrance practically besieged by stray cats, all forming a crowd in front of the building... What are they all doing here? Am I going to have to tiptoe past precious little kitties just to acquire a single apple?

    One of the Greenjackets, a short woman wearing a blood-stained apron which absolutely clashes with her uniform, brings out some bowls full of soup and places them on the ground for the cats, who quickly rush forward to eat their fill. The Germans are feeding the local cats! ... With human meat... I¡¯m not sure how to feel about that.

    The cook, whose apron has what I have to assume is a German pun lovingly embroidered upon it, offers me the final bowl. I shake my head once again, and she places it on the ground for the last of the cats who haven''t had their fill¡­ I want to be as far away from this place as possible for at least as long as this errand will take, so I get to walking. Xena said I had a lot of thinking to do, but not this much thinking! Honestly, maybe some non-thinking would do me some good, some time to simply be a person again¡­

    The streets are practically deserted on my walk. It seems that the third time¡¯s the charm with random mass violence on the streets of Alesia and most folks are staying firmly inside their homes. Probably smart, but part of me worries if that is somehow part of a certain someone''s plan. A certain pretentious someone, who can apparently stop bullets in mid-air, use a gun to fly, start fires that melt stone and burn humans to less than ash... And seemed pretty confident they could survive a fall from that high up. And who is now factoring me into their plans¡­

    No. That¡¯s thinking, I¡¯m not supposed to be thinking, I¡¯m supposed to be... Being normal! Walking around, not thinking about conspiracies or goddesses or friendly affections or the woman who seems determined to die for me. Being. Normal!

    ... Being normal is hard. The world is simply too big, people are simply too complex, and goddesses are simply too all-encompassing. I haven¡¯t the slightest clue how everyone does this all day, pretending that everything is okay, allowing themselves to be exploited or killed by enforced ignorance. Surely it¡¯s exhausting to think about nothing!

    Eventually I find the grove and start making my way through to try and find an apple tree that hasn''t been picked clean yet... And I find one. Auguste and Celeste are beneath it. Auguste is holding some flowers... And the two are being held at gunpoint by a trio of ruffians... I''d laugh, but that would give away my position, and I suspect I will have to intervene so I approach as quietly as I can.

    Auguste has his hands raised, trying to de-escalate the situation. "Think about this logically, what you''re about to do is murder! Whatever cause you''re fighting for, it won''t be well served by the public seeing its supporters going around killing dissenting voices, right?"

    "Not my cause, not my concern. Someone rich simply wants you dead, that''s just the way of things." The ringleader, a bald man who looks almost like they could be one of Katarina''s littler siblings, seems to be having no de-escalation today.

    "So what? You''ll be a disposable pawn for money? What good will it do you when you''re sacrificed to Steel?"

    "Been sacrificed once before. I earned my freedom by being good at what I do. If they try to put me before a firing squad I¡¯ll earn my freedom again."

    My eyes drift over to Celeste a moment, who is looking for an opening to run, or to attack these people, or do anything but try to reason with these ruffians... I sneak my way closer still, I''ll give her a chance, even if it kills me.

    "If you''ve been sacrificed before, then surely you know what a terrible thing death is, right? How awful it feels to kill someone? Why subject yourself to this if you''ve been given a second chance?"

    "Death''s a commodity, nothing more than that."

    "H... How can you believe such a thing?!"

    "Because I''ve seen enough of it."

    He¡¯s going to see just a little bit more of it, but not in the way he thinks. I¡¯m close enough now, I grit my teeth and charge three steps before plunging the saber into the man''s back. He¡¯s dead in an instant, his body sliding off the blade without any resistance, much to the horror of his two flunkies. They turn their attention my way, and the closest one brings his gun around to fire upon me...

    But his aim is knocked off course by Celeste grabbing his wrist and pulling it to the ground, the bullet embedding itself in the lush grass of the grove of Leather. I slash the man''s throat before he can regain his bearings. He doesn''t die nearly as quickly as his former boss, but he¡¯s no longer a threat, clutching his neck in his final moments as he tries desperately to stop the bleeding.

    The third man has a sword, and swings at me with an inexpert blow, clearly a novice fencer... Still, he''s caught me off guard, in a bad situation, and it¡¯s all I can do to parry the blow.

    I feel my chest wound reopen at the impact. Even if this man can''t make a good sword stroke to save his life, he can overpower a teenager with multiple wounds that he''s taken by surprise... At least I can stand my ground a little longer, give Auguste and Celeste time to flee. They''ll live, I''ll at least achieve something. And there are worse places to die than a grove of the Goddess of Death, right? ... Will the Greenjackets eat me too?

    I close my eyes, the thought unsettles me, to the point where I simply can''t look my own death in the face... But suddenly, the force against me ceases. I open my eyes, the pathetic swordsman is on the ground, clearly unconscious. And Auguste has formed a fist in his other hand. He''s saved me? ... He and Celeste in fact, if she hadn''t moved that one man''s gun then I would already be dead right now. Oh dear.

    Auguste seems to be grappling with dark thoughts of his own, looking down upon the head goon with some measure of compassion... And some measure of disdain. "... They couldn''t be reasoned with. It wouldn''t matter what I said, he''d have killed us both all the same. Why couldn''t they simply listen?"

    I sheathe the saber... And start clutching my chest, this has been rough on my wounds. "... That''s just what some people consider normal. Not thinking, and not listening. I don''t know how they do it, but some people are simply determined not to listen to reason."

    Auguste takes on my words and simply processes them for a moment, seriously considering them... Before realizing that I am in fact quite hurt and rushing over to offer me a shoulder to lean on. "... You''ve saved our lives, Serena."

    Celeste rushes over to do the same but can''t resist the urge to turn the whole thing into an excited, awkward hug. "You... You''re a hero! You really are!"

    She smells nice, oh no... She saved my life; I¡¯m supposed to kiss her. I saved her life, if my rules hold then she¡¯s supposed to kiss me... If we¡¯re friends at least, and she seems to be pretty friendly right now. I want to kiss her I want to kiss her I want to kiss her I-

    I need to get these Velvet thoughts out of my head before Auguste punches me too. "... What are you two doing here? The streets aren''t safe."

    Auguste looks down and waves the flowers still in his hand. "It''s... It''s my fault. After the fiasco with the speech, and seeing how you and your men managed to save so many innocent people... I had the sudden urge to see my daughter again."

    "... Your daughter? But I thought you didn¡¯t have-" I realize in a hurry that I am in fact in a grove of Leather, and that I should shut right the heck up before I say anything else insensitive.

    "Not anymore anyway..." Celeste doesn''t let up her hug, but it¡¯s certainly lacking enthusiasm now. "She died when she was two. She caught a fever, and this was five years ago, our lives had only just begun and... We didn''t have money for medicine. So, she died."

    "Oh... Oh... I''m... I''m so sorry for your loss-"

    "It''s a common story in Alesia. Nothing noteworthy here... Auguste got the worst of it in honesty, the poor man. He ran from Cotton priest to Cotton priest, pleading and begging for our daughter to be treated, and getting turned away every time."

    Auguste recoils just a little at the memory, before giving a nod. "Seeing the indifferent faces of unfeeling priests and priestesses, seeing how a society could simply let a child die when they had the means to cure her... That''s what made us join the Humanist Salon in the first place. We realized our story was a common one, and we sought the means to author a different ending for all of them."

    ... I honestly feel the need to give Auguste a hug at this point, he¡¯s having difficulty not weeping. "... Which tree is she buried under? I''m sure she''ll appreciate the flowers."

    Auguste gestures towards the apple tree, the very same one I was planning to pick from. Which threatens to make things awkward once I do what I came here for... At least I can wait until Auguste does what he came here to do, placing the flowers before the tree, sighing to force back a sob.

    "We''ll always love you, Selene. And we''ll always regret that we never got to know the woman you would have become."

    Even Celeste looks like she¡¯s going to cry. I turn and hold her with my good arm as tight as I can. As agonizingly painful as this is with my wound, and as agonizingly pleasant as it feels to be against her, she seems like she needs this embrace.

    I simply need to not think for a minute and allow myself to be a comfort. She clearly appreciates the gesture, even if it isn''t quite enough to keep the tears from her eyes, leading to her burying her face into my good shoulder to cry... It¡¯s a feeling similar to when I was sitting with Queen Katje rather than with my goddess, Her Majesty. Someone so high above me becoming a human... And a human I want. This is dangerous, this is horrifying, I want to kiss her.

    Auguste eventually breaks the silence by taking Celeste off my hands, holding her himself, which allows me to slip away and bleed in peace without the constant temptation. "... What are you doing out, Serena? You said it yourself; the streets are dangerous. And your wound seems to have reopened in that fighting... I can''t imagine you know anyone in Alesia who has died, and if you did you''d have brought flowers, rather than a saber."

    I swallow, it¡¯s time for the incredibly awkward part of saving Auguste and Celeste''s lives. "... I''m here to get an apple for Xena. I brought the saber just in case it was literally impossible to go outside in this city without being in mortal peril, and it turns out I was entirely right to be concerned."

    "Ah... Well... I''m sure Selene wouldn''t mind you taking an apple or two. I honestly think the two of you would have gotten along well."

    "I''ll be sure to be respectful." I try to smile, before limping over to the tree, reaching up for the lowest-hanging fruit, not sure my wounds will allow much more than that. "... Thank you, Selene. It was a pleasure to meet you."

    This provokes some manner of smile out of Auguste and Celeste, watching me thank their dead child for an apple... Celeste even approaches me from behind, patting my head. "Hehe... We should head back home, shouldn''t we? Before we have to deal with yet another mess like this. You''ve been a hero enough today; I think you should get some rest."

    I''d love that... I really would. "I still have to get Xena her apple seeds. Otherwise she might fall asleep, and she seems very against that idea."

    "... But sleep is normal?"

    "Xena isn''t."

    Celeste looks at me a moment, before chuckling under her breath, genuinely a little amused.

    "I got that impression... Okay, deliver her an apple. Just, come home right afterward. Alive, preferably without any new wounds."

    "It''s a promise." It¡¯s my fourth such promise and counting... "As nice as it is to have everyone dote upon me, I''d really prefer not to worry you all."

    "Hehe, you hardly have to get shot to be doted on by that crowd. Or by me."

    Oh no, oh gods, I want to kiss her! Mercifully, she withdraws back to her husband, gives me a wave, and makes their way back home with him. And I make my stumbling, limping way back to the Greenjacket compound to give Xena her apple, and maybe get my wound looked at. I return... And I find Xena fast asleep, being held by a very awake, and still bullet-riddled Katarina.

    "Shhh." She smiles at me, before gesturing to the unconscious girl in her arms. "Sleeping."

    I nod, gently putting the apple down on a nearby table where I¡¯m sure she''ll see it... She honestly doesn''t look that much different asleep than she does awake, which is slightly concerning but at least she¡¯s having some rest¡­ And now no one''s going to be looking at my wound. I sigh, steal some bandages, try to remember even half of what Xena told Theophania to do at the breakfast table, and patch myself up in amateur fashion. It still hurts, but I figure I might be able to make it back to the Rosierte family home now... Which seems to be my home now, at least in Alesia.

    It feels like I¡¯m part of the family.

 Chapter Thirty Three

    The grass beneath my feet is so overgrown that it threatens to consume me entirely. I stand before the lone apple tree, and somehow I am very aware that the tree is smiling.

    "Heya sis!" The sudden voice makes me recoil in shock... This tree is my sister? "Hehehe, sorry for spooking you, I just wanted to see the look on your face!"

    "Well, you went and did that... I think? Can you actually see? You''re a tree."

    "Oh sis, I''m looking right at you!" The tree remains unmoving, but it is amused at my apparent ignorance of how trees look at things. "You''re standing in the grove with a silly look on your face!"

    I look up... The sky is a swirling mix of fire and smoke, and it seems to stretch beyond every horizon. Beyond the grass is a writhing sea of viscera, splashing upon our green shore, its scent a twisted parody of the sea-spray back home. This little patch of overgrown grass, this lonely tree, me... We''re the only life left upon the face of all Lutice, aren''t we?

    "... Which of my sisters are you? I''m sorry, the tree isn''t giving me any clues."

    "Hehe, silly... It''s Selene! Maybe we didn''t come from the same parents, but we still have the same family, don''t we? Doesn''t Serena Rosierte have a nice ring to it?"

    "Ah..." I''m rather stunned by all of this; I can''t say it¡¯s something I can grapple with when it''s thrown at me all at once. "I''m sorry I took your apple."

    "It''s okay, family is all about sharing! I''m sure you''d give me an apple if you had any."

    "Y... Yeah. I don''t really have much to give, I''m sorry."

    "Oh hush, you have plenty to give! ... And I miiiiiiight have an idea of how you could repay me."

    The grass is growing thicker and taller, I lift a foot out of it and find it incredibly difficult to do so, the plant life is simply that tangled. The tree''s leaves have more of a luster by the second, and it is rather quickly growing new apples... Plants don''t work like this.

    And something about this tree''s smile feels wrong to me. "... Alright. What would you ask of me then, sister?"

    "Nothing too hard. Simply lay in the grove, on the grass here with me. Join our family in the circle of life."

    ... Die? Nothing major indeed- Wait. "Our family? You''ve... Eaten Auguste and Celeste?"

    "They¡¯re in here too, yeah. What else is there to do? The rest of everything burns and melts, maybe forever! It can¡¯t be fought; it can only be lived through. The circle of life keeps going so long as something remains to eat the dead... But these fires don''t leave any life behind to restart the circle. They end all life upon a world, forever... This last grove is the only hope for Lutice. Our family is its last hope."

    I audibly swallow, noticing that as the red tide of viscera gently washed up to the edges of the grove, splashing the green grass red, it¡¯s making it grow. All the melted ''life'' of Lutice, coming into this grove.

    Am I the last human being here? "... I want to speak to our ''family''. Can I speak to them?"

    "... Sort of? I can speak ''for'' them if that works for you, but they no longer have their own voices that can reach beyond our tree. I swear, they joined us of their own free will. They wanted to be a family again!"

    "... What if I don''t believe you?"

    "Then I''d be upset. Family shouldn''t lie to family!"

    "Okay fine! ... Tell me something only Auguste would say, prove to me that he''s in there somewhere!"

    "... He forgives you for wanting to fuck our mom, whatever that means."

    Selene was two when she died, wasn''t she? Even if she aged, she¡¯d only be seven. This is getting weird... Wait, Auguste knew?! ... Did Celeste know?

    "... How about Celeste then, what''s something only she would say-"

    "You still don''t believe me? You can hear all the things that only she would say if you join our tree! All it takes is simply laying down and letting us take you home. The grass will do the rest. It already is!"

    The grass... It''s up to my shoulders now... And still growing. My wrists appear to be bound, as are my ankles, and no amount of resisting seems to be getting me free of it. I''m trapped... I don''t think I even have a choice, so why is the tree asking?

    "... What if I say no?"

    "Then I''ll be sad. But it won''t matter all that much. After all, the grass is almost up to your neck now, you''ll be a part of us no matter what. This way will just hurt more for all of us."

    "... I promised Celeste I wouldn''t die. I promised Lazierte, I promised Pasche, I promised Theophania, I promised Xena-"

    "They''re all out there somewhere, in that big red sea. They''ll get here eventually and join the family too! I''m sure they''ll forgive you, so long as they get to see you again!"

    ... They were all in that horrifying tide? ¡­ Then Her Majesty is somewhere in that ocean of gore, surely. Will I become part of the same family as Her Majesty? ... I did always say I wanted to be her family, and while I have no idea what''s normal inside a tree... Maybe I can make it normal? If I get to see everyone again, is it really so bad to die?

    The grass has reached my neck now, wrapping itself around my throat... And I struggle. I fight as hard as I can against my restraints, I don''t want this, I don''t want this! I can''t help it, something sharp and liquid flows to every inch of my being and I want to be free, I want to be my own person, I don''t want to be a part of everybody and everything! ... My struggles are just as futile as before but they are more desperate... As the light begins to fade from my eyes, I know I want to live. Even though I know that living alone is impossible, being a dead person in company is just the same.

    "Serena! Serena!"

    I am shaken awake by a clearly terrified Celeste. Auguste is bringing over medical supplies, ones he doesn''t seem to know how to use but at least understands will in some way help. My eyes lazily open, the light returning to them as I get a good glimpse at... My family?

    "Thank goodness!" Celeste looks as if she''s about to cry, now it''s her turn to shake. "Your... Your wound must''ve gotten worse on the walk back, you barely made it to our doorstep! I... I thought we were going to lose you and-"

    I kiss her... And then immediately recoil in shock, what the hell have I just done?!

    Celeste for her part blinks a few times, as if trying to determine whether what just happened did in fact just happen, before blushing and looking away. "... I''m glad you''re still with us, Serena."

    ... I expect to be slapped, to be kicked out of their home, this is a married woman! ... Maybe they''re just going to wait for me to recover before kicking me to the curb, I mean I''ve absolutely crossed a line now. But she saved my life, and she''s there, and she''s beautiful, and how am I supposed to not!? ... No, these are excuses. And this rule of mine simply does not work if it means I do bad things to good people like this.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Celeste, for the most part, is still all nervous giggles and little smiles, a mix of trying to dote on me and inexpertly helping with my wound. She¡¯s no Xena... But she¡¯s warm, and she smells beautiful, and she¡¯s... Home. My eyes begin to close again, maybe when I wake up I''ll be punished for my indiscretion, if I wake up.

    "Serena? Serena?! ... No... You''re right, you get your rest. I''ll be here the whole time..." I can barely hear her voice where I am now... I can barely feel her kiss my forehead and hold my hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of it.

    Mercifully my second sleep is longer, deeper, and lacking in dreams. And when I wake... Celeste is still here, holding my hand, having fallen asleep on an adjacent armchair. Does this count as sleeping together? ... I''ll have to do the reading on that, and then beat myself to death with whatever book gives me my answer. In any case it¡¯s already morning. I should get up, I should allow Celeste to sleep peacefully without having to hold my hand.

    "Ah! You''re awake, thank goodness." Auguste emerges from the kitchen, hair tied up and wearing his apron, laying down a platter of food upon the table. "I had cooked for three, so I''m glad you pulled through."

    I can''t help but chuckle, even if it is a slightly dark little joke. "Maybe you should have cooked for four, I''m certain someone I know is going to rush through the door and try to dote on me. They''ll probably be a bit upset that we haven''t assumed their presence."

    "I can head back into the kitchen if you really think-"

    "Hehe, if anyone shows up we can send them away for breakfast at least. I think I could use a little less excitement in my life for the moment..."

    I feel Celeste begin to stir, our talking must''ve woken her up... I should probably let go of her hand, it was a comfort through the night I''m certain, but I can''t imagine she wants to wake up tied to me... Oh gods, I kissed her last night, didn''t I? Her eyes open and find me immediately...

    And Celeste smiles. She¡¯s genuinely happy to see me! I... I can''t possibly deserve that, can I?

    "... Good morning, Celeste... Uhhh¡­ Breakfast is ready!"

    "Good morning, Serena... Hehe, look at me, leaving Auguste all alone in the kitchen again." She stretches her arms and gives a loud, ridiculous, distressingly appealing yawn, all without letting go of my hand. "... Did you sleep well?"

    I did, thanks to Celeste... "I did, thank you."

    "Hehe, I''m glad. Alesia hasn''t been treating you well, I''m glad it at least can''t reach you in your sleep." She giggles in triumph as she rises to her feet, pulling on my arm. "Well? It''s like you said, breakfast is ready."

    ... I get to my feet, trying to slip my hand away only for it to be squeezed. It isn''t exactly physically impossible to overpower her and get the hand away, but after that moment I lack the will to free myself from Celeste. I squeeze back instead, nervously smiling and looking to the floor as she leads me to a seat between her and Auguste. It feels... Very much like having a family.

    I wish I could scream; I wish I was brave enough to demand that they exile me for my transgression last night, that they punish me. Maybe if I had my very own Serena, I would have the courage and dignity to apologize and leave forever. But my lips stay shut, my eyes stay down, and my hand stays within Celeste''s.

    And Celeste stays smiling, looking past me and to Auguste with a lyrical little giggle. "I notice you don''t have today''s paper, darling."

    "Yes, I figured if it kept getting Serena shot that it might have no place at our breakfast table." He spears a morsel of food with obvious amusement. "I like the crossword, sure, but I don''t like it THAT much."

    They''re telling jokes, they''re laughing, it''s like I never did anything wrong... Did I imagine it? Did I simply imagine that I kissed her? I had lost a lot of blood, I was likely delusional. But when I see Celeste''s lips I remember how they felt, how utterly magical things were for the half second before the entire world caught up with me. No, I know in my heart I did wrong... Then why am I the only one who seems to know that?

    "Say ahhh." Celeste presents me with a forkful of breakfast, and I realize she has my good hand in hers, I have no alternative than this.

    I do as she says and she rewards me with food, when by rights she should be stabbing me with the fork and telling me how abhorrent my actions were. That first morsel is followed by another, and another, it seems like Celeste was enjoying not having to fight for the privilege of feeding me, even after what I did. I can''t even pretend this is normal anymore, or rather I can''t pretend that I can be part of normal things... Why can I not do good? Why am I like this?

    This sweet torment is interrupted by a sudden, sharp knocking at the door, one which makes the breakfast stop and Auguste rise to his feet. "... I wonder if that''s Serena''s friends, come to make our house very loud again."

    His chuckle makes it all the way to the door itself, where it dies rather abruptly. He soon returns to the dinner table with a messenger, a young woman in a military uniform, a trumpet tied to her sword belt. She looks rather out of breath, as if she''d sprinted here from halfway across Alesia.

    Auguste is clearly displeased, giving the messenger a skeptical eye. "The Convention doesn''t meet again for another two weeks. What are one of their messengers doing in my home?"

    "Em... Emergency session!" The young woman struggles with the words... This might not be the first house she''s sprinted to today. "All members of The Convention... To assemble. Regarding recent events... And rumors regarding His Majesty."

    The poor messenger is in pain. She needs rest almost as much as I do. "Maybe you should take a seat and catch your breath, mademoiselle? You don''t seem to be in a good state.

    The messenger gives me a confused look, before looking at Auguste with her best puppy dog eyes. He sighs and offers her a chair, which she happily takes, letting out a wince of pain as she rests her feet.

    "The Convention... Also requires the presence of... Serena Pollineux. I was informed she might be found here." The girl is slowly starting to catch her breath again, but she¡¯s still dying by inches. "She is required to give... Testimony, regarding certain... Incidents around town."

    Me? ... The same people who castigated me now think they can just ask me for details about the last few days like it''s nothing? That I can suddenly just trust them with information about the conspiracy? That I can forgive them for being a thorn in the side of Her Majesty? I''m half tempted to simply say no and stay in bed.

    ... But that would make things awkward for Auguste, even if it''s clear he disapproves of this as much as I do. "Serena is still convalescing from two different wounds she received in the service of Avernia during her brief, Convention-mandated furlough. I don''t believe she can-"

    I rise to my feet, wincing as I feel my wounds agitated by the motion. "Fine. I''ll do it. I hope your Convention thanks Auguste profusely for bringing me to the table."

    The messenger gives a sigh of relief, one of her hands nervously playing with her trumpet. "The Convention... Wasn''t exactly asking. But thank you for your... Cooperation."

    I keep my hand in Celeste''s, but she doesn''t rise from her chair. Oh right, she''s not officially a member of The Convention, boy''s club and all that. I think I might hate The Convention... But then I remember Theophania was disinherited by virtue of being a woman, and I wonder if my disgust is simply me being abnormal. It¡¯s that or I hate the entire world.

    I think this is an abnormality worth fighting for if that truly is what it is... And it seems Auguste agrees, his expression rather low. "... I promise, we''ll not leave you alone for long, Celeste. We''ll sort out this whole mess and be back before you know it."

    She gives us both a smile that makes me want to cry, before finally letting go of my hand. "Yeah. It''s for the good of Alesia after all."

    ... I don''t want to leave her like this. Maybe I have no right to say that, no right to even think about it after my overly familiar conduct, but... I don''t want to leave her at all. I run my good hand through her hair, I simply cannot stop myself from being terrible.

    And I try to meet her sad smile with a reassuring one, to be dashing and gallant in this situation. "... If anyone there says women have no place in The Convention I will beat some sense into them, I swear you will be seated right along Auguste if I have anything to say about it."

    This seems to amuse her a little, even if it doesn''t quite fix her sadness. "Hehe... That''s the most ''Serena'' approach to politics I''ve ever heard."

    Lazierte, Pasche, Her Majesty... "That''s how you know I mean it."

    "Hehe, well, try not to hit them too hard. You might hurt your working hand, and then I''ll have to dote on you even more!"

    "I''ll try my best to show restraint."

    This might be the happiest I can get her and still do as I must and get out the door. Auguste steps over and does a better job of comforting her, with kisses and hugs and little whispers and all the things I absolutely can¡¯t do with her but did at least once. It stings a little, and I hate that it stings, it shouldn''t sting, it''s just a man being wonderful to his wife... I turn my attention to the messenger, who seems to be getting to her feet again, wincing in pain again.

    "Another five houses to go... Uhhh, good luck, Serena."

    She¡¯s out the door before I could return the sentiment... I ought to prepare properly for going outside, I should find my sword and gun. Mercifully, Auguste and Celeste''s little comforting ritual gave me ample time to find them. Now I''m ready to walk the streets... Eventually Auguste pulls himself free of Celeste, and we make our leave towards The Convention''s meeting hall. I notice Auguste doesn''t carry a sword on his outings. Maybe he should...

 Chapter Thirty Four

    Mercifully this is one time where leaving home doesn''t immediately lead to a life-or-death struggle, and we make it to The Convention''s meeting hall in good time... It is a thoroughly unimpressive building. It looks so... Utilitarian. There''s no flourishes to it, no artistry, just brick and concrete. It''s simply a building. I think I don¡¯t like it. I think I don¡¯t like it at all.

    "No wonder they opted to use the Palace for my castigation. This place just looks depressing."

    "No frills, just pure function. You''d almost think it wasn''t made for human beings at all." Auguste softly chuckles under his breath, taking a moment to truly consider the building. "A far cry from the salons and the coffee houses The Convention grew out of."

    "Coffee shops? A bunch of old men discussing things at a cafe managed to form an entire alternate government?"

    "Some of those old men were very, very rich. Others were very, very good at getting people on their side. I wonder if our founder intended all of this..." Auguste looks about ready to spit, fist clenched as he tries not to overtly express his irritation. "He certainly didn''t intend for the Aeduian Restorationists to come to dominate things... If anyone dressed in purple tries to become your friend, I highly recommend you ignore them."

    "Heh... If only you''d given my brother the same advice."

    "... I''m sure he''ll be fine. As long as he keeps winning victories."

    There¡¯s almost something regretful in Auguste''s tone, but he moves into the building before I can properly interrogate it. I follow as quickly as I can, seeming to earn the ire of the gendarmes out front of the building... Who does the Gendarmerie work for, anyway? The Crown or The Convention? Government services are more than a little confusing when there are two governments in the same country... Back on the beaches of Kerska, such a question would never once have occurred to me. Am I becoming a grown-up, despite my protests?

    The inside of The Convention''s meeting hall is almost as uninspired as the outside, neutral colored walls and functional yet dull furniture. I can imagine golemized machinery happily making their home here, voting on which indolent person to eat next... What does a place like this do to the people who work here? Is this how Malmo happened?

    I don''t have time to ponder, a man in purple approaches me with a smile, arms open as if he expects a hug. "Ah, Mademoiselle Pollineux! Thank you for taking the time to join us today."

    I remember this man... He was one of the men in purple castigating me. "I get the impression that I didn''t have much of a choice."

    "Oh, you certainly had a choice. Between coming here and being escorted here. I appreciate that you took the easier option... We are, as always, happy to have a Pollineux in our esteemed hall."

    "So I''ve heard...¡± I must confess, seeing this man trying so hard to project charm and human-ness, I can almost see what my brother sees in the purple shirts. ¡°You¡¯re what they call an Aeduian Restorationist, right?¡±

    ¡°I certainly am! I should introduce myself, I am Minister Roland. Your brother has spoken a lot about you, kind words only I should clarify.¡±

    Kind words that carried no weight during my castigation, no doubt¡­ He was quite the prominent figure during that event, maybe he might be able to answer a question of mine. ¡°Well, I try to live up to the legend he has built¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I just have to ask. What¡¯s an Aeduian anyway?¡±

    He smiles, but his eye twitches somewhat, as if he expected that to be obvious. ¡°Ah, see, the Aeduians were once a fellow Celtic tribe, back before the Avernii conquered all of what is now Avernia. The Aeduians were a proud people with a noble tradition of not bowing to kings or queens, but instead coming together to determine who was best to lead their society. A republic, Mademoiselle Pollineux. That is the legacy we wish to restore.¡±

    ¡°A republic that was conquered and forgotten about? ¡­ I must confess, I fail to see why that would be so compelling to you.¡±

    ¡°One bad implementation does not invalidate the entire idea, Mademoiselle Pollineux.¡± He¡¯s clearly said that line before, countless times I¡¯d bet. ¡°And there were compelling advantages to a republic that a Kingdom simply cannot emulate. That¡¯s why the Avernii made an Aeduian city the capital of their ¡®High Kingdom¡¯, after all. No violent kings and steel subjects could build something so beautiful and prosperous; they could only conquer it.¡±

    ¡°And conquer it they did¡­ I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed, monsieur, but we happen to be in a war. A very big one in fact. It seems a poor time to switch to a system with a noted history of being invaded and conquered.¡±

    ¡°The Aeduians were simply ahead of their time, Serena. They lived in an age of warriors clad in steel and royalty who led armies into battle. Those days are long over. Today we have soldiers wearing cotton and wool uniforms, we carry muskets instead of swords, and the nation on the side of technology wins. This is the age the Aeduians were waiting for! And we will not deny ourselves this progress just because of some historical minutiae!¡±

    ¡°You could probably argue that Humanism does the same thing, only it hasn¡¯t failed yet, and it seems to make the world a happier place.¡±

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t be na?ve, Serena. Do you genuinely believe that Humanism is viable in the real world? That a godless system built on giving charity to the poor and everyone holding hands can survive in La¡¯an?¡± For someone who had been so idealistic before, this pivot to extreme cynicism is honestly quite jarring. ¡°Our system provides progress that will actually stand the test of time, that can genuinely build a better state, and that can honor our gods. With a legislative branch representing the people and honoring Cotton, and our Senate, honoring Wool and making sure things don¡¯t get too out of hand... And the benefits of our more incremental approach will trickle down to the people! The very same people that folks like Auguste claim to care about, but would ruin by simply giving them things they have not earned!¡±

    The gentleman seems to have worked himself into a fervor with his little sales pitch, one which makes me regret asking about this. ¡°You asked me here to give testimony about recent events, right?"

    ¡°Simply give your account as best as you remember it...¡± He calms down in a hurry, switching gears from philosophical to conspiratorial without skipping a beat. ¡°I must tell you, Mademoiselle Pollineux, what you choose to convey to The Convention will have some rather far-reaching consequences... I would advise you to be careful, and to not mention any details that might be... Hearsay, or that you are not entirely certain on. And of course, I would be cautious about any illegal knowledge you may have come to acquire during your experiences."

    What does he mean by that? Surely I''m here to inform these people about what happened, right? "Sounds to me like you''re perfectly okay with hearing the truth, but not the whole truth."

    "I simply believe it is best to keep things simple and not direct members of The Convention to question minutiae that is not fully understood. In any case, this is just advice, take it or leave it. I would hate for your testimony to lead to any consequences for you, or your brother."

    "... Antoine can take care of himself."

    "Right you are, Mademoiselle Pollineux. Right you are."

    The man leaves my presence, clearly displeased. I think he was hoping to get something out of that exchange, and that he either underestimated or severely overestimated me. Auguste''s advice is already coming in handy, I do not want to be friends with that man.

    "Is this what Antoine meant about not being able to stand any of his friends?"

    "Your brother sounds like a smart man..." A voice... An old man, who managed to sneak up on me despite his frailty. "I can''t stand these vipers either."

    Looking at the man, I can''t help but wonder why he''s here. He clearly needs bed rest, even with his cane he''s barely upright. His eyes look dull and aged, I can almost see the years he''s lived printed onto them permanently. His form is ever so slightly twisted and gnarled, I''m not sure people are supposed to live for as long as this man has... There''s barely anything of him left to feed the grove.

    "My brother has his moments, certainly... If you hate the people here so much, then why are you here, monsieur? Surely you could be somewhere far away from here if you wanted."

    "... I am here because I am not a smart man. A long time ago, I thought I was, and maybe that was even true then. But if I was smart, then I was too smart for my own good."

    "... Do you want to take a seat, monsieur-"

    "I will stand. It''s what I came here to do. Stand as best I can against the perversion of my vision."

    "... You''re referring to The Convention."

    A mite of anger slips into the man''s tone, loud enough that I wonder if he can even muster the strength to scream.

    "The Convention of Humanity, which a lot of the young folks forget... Back when I was younger, I wanted to build a form of government for humans, by humans. I wanted to give them a voice, and believed that if I did, then power would be forced to serve them..." I can see the memory of a fire in his eyes for a brief  moment, before he slumps little against his cane in resignation. "But money has a voice too, and so does religious zealotry, and soon my Convention of Humanity became a playground for such interests. Just a way to force power to serve money and insanity..."

    I can''t help but raise an eyebrow at this sudden speech, it seems almost a little rehearsed... "Monsieur, why are you telling me this?"

    "Because you''re the only person in this room that hasn''t heard it yet." The answer doesn''t come from the old man, it comes from Auguste, approaching the two of us with a smile. "Serena, this is Count Trevallion of Lemonum, the founder of The Convention and chairman of the Humanist Salon."

    There is a clear reverence in Auguste''s voice... And an unclear contempt, which the old man seems blissfully unaware of. "Ah, Monsieur Rosierte, it''s a pleasure to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances."

    "Things must truly be dire if they''ve called you out of your sickbed to come join us here, Trevallion. Are you sure that you should be out and about rather than resting?"

    "... This concerns The Heart, no doubt... They won''t say it out loud, the cowards, but if I had to guess why we all had to be here, why I had to be here... It''s because the money men want to make sure The Convention has its story straight." The old man tries to spit, but it doesn''t quite take.

    "The Heart again..." I don''t even know what it is but somehow I hate it more than anything. "How can it be so important as to draw everybody here like this?"

    A messenger, a different one from this morning, and a much less out of breath one, tugs on my sleeve from behind. "Mademoiselle Pollineux, your presence is requested on the dais. The Convention''s members are beginning to assemble."

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.The old man blinks. Apparently he had been unaware of who I am or what I¡¯m doing here. But his confusion is quickly followed by a grin, one lacking in teeth but rich in mischief.

    "I cannot wait to hear your story, mademoiselle. The entire thing."

    His shuffling into the hall is awkward, and seems to cause him no small amount of pain. I would have figured Auguste would soon join him, but he stays behind for a moment, watching the old man struggle to walk¡­

    "If you tried to help him, he''d probably just hit you with that cane and tell you to stop patronizing him." Auguste rubs his head, apparently speaking from experience. "... For someone who once wanted to help the entire world, he''s certainly averse to receiving help himself... At least now he is."

    "You sound like you have a story or two to tell, Auguste."

    "I don''t think that many stories would be enough, Serena... In any case, we''d best get you in front of The Convention again."

    "... Auguste, what should I do?"

    "About your testimony?"

    "About what people want my testimony to be."

    "Ah, that... Serena, I could give you advice, I could tell you what to do to get out of this building... Not quite intact, but at least no more hurt than you were when you came in." He gives a slightly distant chuckle; it is a slightly morbid observation even if an accurate one. "... But I trust you to be yourself, and don''t really trust you to be anything else. So I won''t tell you what to do."

    "So just, do what I want and deal with the consequences later?"

    "That''s just how you are, Serena... And I don''t think I''d have offered you my home if you were any other way."

    Auguste makes his way into the chamber finally, giving me one last look over his shoulder. He¡¯s conflicted about something... Somethings... A fair few somethings... And I have no time to speculate. I have to head to the dais and decide what happened this past week in Alesia. And deal with the consequences.

    "What would Her Majesty have me do?"

    I have no answer to that. She isn''t here. It¡¯s just me... Me alone, taking the stage, in front of the old men and fancy folk of The Convention. And their expectations. Come to think of it, the men of The Convention called me ''Pollineux'', didn''t they?

    "Mademoiselle Pollineux!" A familiar man in an ornate brown barrister''s uniform and a white wig addresses the crowd and I both, his voice still a match for the Marshal of Avernia. "You have been central to the tragic events that have rocked our city in the past few days. By what few scattered accounts we have of the incidents in Triumph Square and at the former National Gallery, your actions were both heroic and necessary to prevent further bloodshed."

    It sounds so dispassionate to hear him say it, as if saving people is no different from shooting them personally. It feels wrong, having been in these places myself and felt the events he mentioned all too viscerally, to hear them summed up this way... It makes me wonder who¡¯s penning those ''scattered accounts'', if this man could see them so dully.

    Not that I''ll ever have a chance to ask, the man''s introductory spiel continues as loud as ever. "Now we would hear your account of these events, as someone who was central to them, so we might better understand and counter these kinds of tragedies in the future. You are doing Avernia a service, Mademoiselle Pollineux. Now, begin with the incident in Triumph Square."

    Starting at the beginning, that should be simple enough, right? "Alright... I was in Triumph Square to buy groceries-"

    "Please omit any details not directly relevant to the tragedy in question, Mademoiselle!"

    "... Apologies." Less simple than I thought. "The gunfire started from all directions, Alemannian mercenaries attacked the square from all directions at once. Mercenaries I believe to be from the von Moniks band-"

    "And how do you know that, Mademoiselle Pollineux?" This loud man seems determined to interrupt me, much to the amusement of some purple shirts in the audience. "I would like to request that you not give unfounded speculation."

    "Of course. However, I happen to be the employer of a separate band of von Moniks mercenaries and thus recognize their uniforms and bayonets, and the unique nature of their commanders. One of whom happened to be present in the square." Well, no one is amused now, which I¡¯ve decided is a good sign. "They spilled into the square, shooting and carving civilians seemingly without direction or reason."

    "Did you discover any evidence concerning how they managed to, with their uniforms and bayonets and all, sneak into Alesia and launch a surprise attack on a crowded civilian market?"

    "I do not. Several of the Greenjackets-"

    "Greenjackets?"

    "Alemannian mercenaries... Several of the Alemannian mercenaries in my service were disguised among the crowd as butchers, perhaps this band had employed a similar course of action-"

    "But you don''t know."

    "No. I do not."

    "I see." I can''t help but feel like this man just won a victory against me, somehow. "Moving on. When these mercenaries flooded the square, what was your first course of action, Mademoiselle?"

    This is going to be a very awkward part of my testimony. "I had noticed Princess Theophania in the crowd earlier, and having seen her bodyguards carved apart by the Wolfman- The mercenary commander, before you ask, I rushed to her defense."

    "And you managed to protect her?"

    "I got a rather nasty cut in my arm for the trouble but yes."

    "Please do not slip superfluous details into your testimony, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    My arm almost being cut off doesn''t seem all that superfluous to me... "Once I had seen to her safety I returned to the square to take personal command of the Gendarmerie, to ensure that civilians were rescued and that the Wolfman would be engaged properly."

    "According to the newspapers, about twenty people managed to escape the square alive, although one woman did lose an arm and others had gunshot wounds or other such injuries. You directed the Gendarmerie to protect these people?"

    "I did. Although my own companions were also commendable in this effort, and in bringing down the mercenary commander. I would like to particularly commend-"

    "This is no forum for you to enrich or aggrandize your personal friends, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    ... Probably for the best, Pasche likely doesn''t want these people to think highly of her anyway. "In any case, I lost consciousness soon after the square was secured, due to blood loss from my injury. When I awoke, I was home."

    "I see. Do you perhaps have any evidence as to why a German mercenary contingent attacked a peaceful market square in Alesia seemingly at random?"

    "... I do have a theory, based on what I saw in the square-"

    "This is not a forum for speculation, Mademoiselle-"

    "There was this blonde woman. /in the smoke of the square, I saw her stealing a painting-"

    "That is quite enough, Mademoiselle-"

    "That same blonde woman appeared in the other incidents-"

    "You have no definitive proof of these allegations and thus they will not be considered relevant by The Convention-"

    "Why did you even call me here if you don''t want to listen to what I have to say!"

    "We have brought you here to provide evidence that we do not have, not to supply opinions that we do not think, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

    I feel just about ready to punch this pushy lawyer, but I somehow manage to restrain myself. I¡¯ve only just gotten back into the good graces of the press after all, back to where I can be seen with Her Majesty. I can''t waste this fortuitous circumstance by starting a fistfight in The Convention... And it won''t do Auguste or Celeste any favors either, and I owe them more than I can properly express in a whole lifetime. So I hold my tongue and keep my fist in check, for them.

    "Now, onto the second incident."

    The rest of the testimony continues much the same, giving the answers The Convention expects to hear, slipping a few details about the blonde woman in where I can before being shouted down once more... I decide to omit a great deal of my interactions with Her Majesty from the record. These men don''t need to know about our dancing, and I don''t trust them to know about her painting. Their insistence on not hearing any evidence regarding ''Rivauld'' made explaining the gallery fire awkward, with The Convention eventually settling on being completely blind on that issue. And they don''t even begin to allow me to explain how Rivauld had assisted Malmo with arranging my castigation. One thing did pique their interest, however¡­

    "... So this rumor, regarding the King starting the war with The Coalition." This question doesn''t come from the barrister, it comes from the crowd itself. "Is there any truth to it, as far as you are aware?"

    "That rumor? I assumed it was something entirely fabricated, just designed to whip the crowd into a frenzy and cause a diversion."

    "And it was believed immediately?" One of the other men in the crowd this time, but one nearby. "Seems the ground must be fertile for that kind of rumor, right?"

    Where are they going with this? "I... I suppose so, conspiracy theories are a gram a dozen these days-

    "I wonder what would happen if that one would happen to slip into the newspapers... I imagine the King would be desperate to prevent that, wouldn''t he?"

    ... I''m being completely ignored, aren''t I? "I''d hope that everyone would be opposed to lies in the newspaper..."

    "Perhaps we could get some concessions out of the King, holding this rumor over his head."

    "I mean, our friends in the newspapers could certainly disprove it, for a price."

    "Or spread it, to cause the King some serious discomfort."

    The purple shirts seem to have taken to speculating about the potential use of this rumor, much to the apparent horror of the green shirts and steel priests in attendance.

    "Are you mad? We can''t just be promoting baseless conspiracy theories!"

    "It will undermine the legitimacy of the Convention!"

    "This blatant attack on His Majesty compromises our cooperation!"

    And now it¡¯s a shouting match. My eyes find the old man in the crowd alongside his Humanists, all of them looking somewhat defeated. I can''t help but sympathize with them, and so can the barrister strangely enough, him trying to put an end to the impromptu little fight. He is unfortunately not having much luck. I wonder if I can just sneak out of The Convention Hall in the confusion and go home. This fight seems like it could easily take the rest of the day. Possibly the rest of all time.

    Fortunately, this dispute does not continue until the end of time. Unfortunately, it¡¯s interrupted by a pair of Gendarmes, one appearing to be the very same captain I''d forced to be a hero in Triumph Square. Both he and his subordinate look rather haggard, and their sudden arrival is enough to shut the old men and fancy folk up.

    My interrogator is the first to speak, giving the two his full attention. "The Convention is in session! What warrants this interruption?!"

    The captain gives a rather hasty salute, trying to retroactively be respectful to those in attendance. "It''s... It''s a riot. Half of Alesia''s up in arms, wanting to storm the Royal Palace and tear the King limb from limb. The Gendarmes don''t know what to do, a bunch of them are trying to disperse the people while another lot are joining the rioters!"

    The Wigged Man seems rather stunned, as do the people of The Convention, faced with an actual crisis they are utterly paralyzed... But this is my fifth crisis this week, so I take over from our loud friend.

    "What¡¯s provoked this? Why are the people up in arms?"

    "It''s the newspapers, they''re reporting the High King was conspiring with foreign powers, inviting them to invade Alesia to get rid of The Convention!"

    So the rumor has already gotten out? I can see a few of the purple shirts in the audience start to look very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

    And one of them is apparently feeling defensive "But... But that''s just a baseless rumor! The people have heard them before, they don''t normally riot like this-"

    "It''s not baseless, sir... The newspaper has copies of all the letters. They have the royal seal and everything, they''re legitimate... His Majesty started this whole war. Gods save Alesia¡­¡±

    The entire hall is shocked to the core, the enormity of the information finally dawning on all of them. The High King was unambiguously a traitor to the nation and its people, their greatest enemy had been caught in an absurd blunder. One would be forgiven for thinking they should feel jubilant. But joy is not something to be found even among the purple shirts, the very ones who would have used this rumor to their advantage against the High King. They are all utterly gobsmacked, and even Minister Roland, the most prominent among them, can barely muster the wherewithal to have a reaction at all.

    And he certainly can¡¯t muster any eloquence. "Well... Shit."

 Chapter Thirty Five

    The atmosphere in The Convention is different now. The contrary feeling of conflict and political scheming is long gone, and in its place is a universal panic. No one was happy to hear that their biggest rival in governance is now an enemy of Avernia and the people... Which seems odd to me. To be so terrified about the misfortunes of the enemy. But even the most outspoken purple shirts are now in agreement with the people they had been screaming at only minutes earlier, even as their respective panics took on a slightly different form.

    "This... This is too sudden! We haven''t made preparations!"

    "Avernia isn''t ready to lose the monarchy yet!"

    "How can we spin this? How can we keep the High King in play until we''re ready?"

    "How many of the Gendarmes will even listen to us?!"

    "Alesia has already had enough upheavals, it''s affecting business!"

    ¡°Half the countryside still pays their taxes to the Crown, we can¡¯t take over the entire administration overnight!¡±

    The ones in green are turning on their purple-clad contemporaries again, even this unifying shock can''t keep The Convention together forever it turns out. The entire Convention is about to be a shouting match again... Or it would, had the old man not taken the stage next to me, tapping the ground with his walking stick.

    The screaming politicians slowly take notice, stopping their shouting matches to listen to their founder speak, even as he struggles to stand and the words come out with obvious strain. "Gentlemen. We had always intended to supplant the monarchy. Either to sideline it and remove it as a political force, or to destroy it entirely. We always intended to be the sole government of Avernia. And a government has laws. Our current sovereign has committed a crime, he has broken the laws of our government, our Avernia. It is a moral imperative to arrest him, and to punish the crime as we would any other."

    I grit my teeth. Any other crime would lead to sacrificing him to Steel. I certainly harbor a lot of righteous hatred for His Grace, but does anyone deserve to die like that?

    The Convention starts talking amongst themselves again, although this time they are a little more restrained.

    "We could put Charles on the throne, the boy hasn''t done anything especially wrong in the public eye.¡±

    "The boy hasn''t done anything in the public eye."

    "All the better, squeaky clean face to the monarchy."

    "Are you insane?! We can¡¯t put a child on the throne, our enemies will see weakness!"

    "Well what do you suggest?! If the High King survives this he will turn his full attention against us!"

    "We need to make absolutely sure then that if we act against the King, we get him right."

    "We can¡¯t replace him, and yet he can''t be allowed to make it out of his sacrifice intact..."

    "¡­ Or maybe he can... I think I have a solution. Now we just have to arrest him."

    "Who do we have who can do that quickly?"

    ... They''re mostly talking about Charles and His Grace. There¡¯s not a word about Her Majesty, or Princess Theophania. I feel a cold sweat, I can''t entrust the safety of my Princess or my Goddess to whatever political opportunist The Convention assigns to this duty. Dear gods, they might leave the arrest to Malmo of all people!

    I step forward and raise my remaining obedient arm. "I shall perform the arrest! I''ll gather what gendarmes I can and head for the Palace. I''ll bring you the High King... And I''ll avoid a bloodbath if I can help it."

    This stuns The Convention into silence, the wounded woman on stage offering to do their job for them... But that silence is short-lived, and soon the arguing begins again. About my motives, about my loyalty to The Convention, about my qualifications, about my media profile. I don''t care to listen to it anymore, I step off the dais and prepare to get to work. Those two gendarmes who delivered the news are still standing around, rather listless and confused, waiting for anyone to actually give them some orders. And I imagine that at least their commander might recognize me.

    He does in fact, and even gives a salute as I approach, albeit a scornful one. "General Pollineux... Do we have more heroics in our future?"

    "I''m afraid so, commander. How many gendarmes do you have with you?"

    "I rounded up about twenty outside. We could try gathering more, but most of the garrisons are still in shouting matches. Though by now those might''ve become shooting matches for all I know. Tensions were already high before the news came out. The Gendarmes may be technically under the authority of The Crown, but at this point The Convention¡¯s the only thing that can afford to sign our checks, so it¡¯s all a bit of a minefield."

    "... We''ll have to risk it. If the citizens are up in arms we''ll need more than a handful of gendarmes to keep things from escalating."

    "Mademoiselle, if I may object, the last time you ''risked it'' half a dozen of my men were mutilated by Germans."

    "I see... Then you may not, monsieur. We have an Alesia to save." ... And a Goddess to protect.

    I''m surprised when the man still follows me out of the chamber, apparently having actual orders and leadership is more important to him than his fear of being a hero. At least having a place to start might make this entire project easier-

    "Serena!" That¡¯s Auguste''s voice, and presumably his footsteps rushing up to greet me. "Serena, you''re still injured, you can''t be doing this again!"

    I turn, trying to give my most reassuring smile and suppress the knowledge that he has a very fair point. "I have to do this, Auguste. You and Celeste won''t have an Avernia to save if I can''t keep it alive."

    "Serena, if you''re hurt again... If you''re killed out there, I don''t know if Celeste would be able to recover from it. I don''t know if I could stand to have you die for my ideals."

    It stings, bringing Celeste into this... "Sometimes you just have to do what has to be done, Auguste. And besides, I absolutely owe you and Celeste for your kindness, for taking me in... For my indiscretions-"

    "If I forgive you for fancying my wife will you please not get yourself killed?"

    This raises an eyebrow from the Gendarme commander, and I am suddenly quite embarrassed. But it is at least vindicating to know that my disgusting feelings are also incredibly obvious, and thus I can be punished appropriately... But I can''t let my punishment be leaving Her Majesty to the jackals, I can''t let it be risking Princess Theophania''s life and letting the city swallow people I swore an oath to.

    I''ll just have to make it up to him another time. "I''ll earn your forgiveness some other way. No one else can do this, so I have to. There''s nothing else to it."

    Auguste takes this in... And relents, lowering his head in defeat. "... Fine. First step in either of us forgiving you is coming back alive, do you understand?"

    "I swear it." And that makes five oaths I will one day have to break¡­ "I promise I will come back alive."

    "Okay... Go save the world again then. Turns out it really can''t last even a day without you."

    I step forward to give the man a hug with my working arm. A short one, I don''t have all that much time to spare... But he seems to appreciate the gesture at least. He pats my back, and I withdraw, ready to face Alesia again. I''m not certain how the civilian streets of my homeland keep managing to be more dangerous than most battlefields I¡¯ve been on, but these are simply the streets I am expected to protect. The ones Her Majesty found so beautiful from her place atop the hill¡­

    I allow the commander to lead me to his men, and I allow them to lead me to the nearest Gendarmerie garrison. ''Shooting match'' was the outcome there, but at least The Convention¡¯s gendarmes had been the victors and the survivors were willing to join our little band. As scared as they are, they want the city to calm the heck down as quickly as I do, so they fall in line. The next garrison we find is still in the midst of deciding what they are planning to do. A bit of magic courage gives them their answer, and soon they¡¯re all following us as well. I can''t maintain my powers for long, not with my wounds, but by the time they¡¯re part of the crowd they seem willing enough to follow it. I soon have an army of Gendarmes at my back, it¡¯s enough to fill me with confidence... Confidence which dies the moment we reach the Palace.

    Thousands, tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of civilians are surrounding the Royal Palace, blocking all the roads with their own bodies, chanting and screaming in discordant, chaotic choruses. The several hundred gendarmes I¡¯ve managed to rally aren''t going to be making a path through this. They¡¯d barely make a dent before we were all trampled to death... These people are angry, all of them, the only thing that unifies this ocean of human beings is their shared demand.

    "Bring us the High King! Bring us the High King! Bring us the High King!"

    How ironic, the vast, chanting mass is the very thing keeping me from bringing them the High King... Maybe I can simply ask them to disperse.

    "Citizens! I am General Serena Pollineux!" I try my best to be loud, and just about manage to get a few of the protesting citizens to hear me over their chanting, and to pay attention to me. "I have come to arrest the High King for treason! Please, allow me and my gendarmes to pass through."

    The handful seem to consider my words, a shop clerk with slightly frayed clothing even seems to recognize my name. "... General Pollineux? Oh! I¡¯ve heard that name! Someone at a coffee shop said he was a great general, fightin¡¯ the Magyars to keep us safe!"

    Or possibly not... But before I can correct the man, another civilian with a flower in her hair excitedly cheers at the news. "The conqueror of Samnia, he''s a good Convention man! I hear he protected a bunch of folks in Triumph Square too! He must hate the High King as much as anyone! Let him through, let- ... Her through!"

    The news starts to spread throughout the crowd, a ''General Pollineux'' is here to fulfill the wishes of the people, to save them from their corrupt monarch in the name of The Convention... I''m not sure how I''m allowed to feel about this. My brother''s name is saving all of Alesia, while my name doesn''t appear to exist. Forget being in his shadow, I can only aspire to being separate from him...

    It¡¯s tragically ridiculous that the Queen is so scared of what the people might think of my standing in the press, seeing as the people literally can¡¯t keep two General Pollineux¡¯s distinct in their minds ¡­ Whatever the answer, the gendarmes behind me appreciate having the crowd open to allow their passage, and this is undeniably better than trying to carve our way through. Soon our little ¡®sovereign arresting band¡¯ has made it to the gates of the palace, where the Royal Guard stand at the ready, muskets trained on the crowd from behind the big iron gates. There are a few dozen of them, not enough to stop hundreds of gendarmes, but certainly enough to spook a crowd.

    "Guards of the Royal Family!" Talking managed to get me to this gate, maybe talking can get me past it.

    "The High King has been found undeniably guilty of treason against the people and state of Avernia. Surrender him to our justice and I promise the rest of the royal family will not be harmed!"

    I can hear a few boos from behind me, clearly some in the mob won''t be satisfied with anything less than the blood of the entire royal family... Which might be why the guards at the gate are so twitchy.

    "I assure you that I will guarantee your safety as well! Things need not escalate, so long as His Grace-"

    A volley of fire erupts from behind the gate, sending a few gendarmes to the ground, clutching wounds... History will probably remember this as a mistake for all involved, as members of the crowd behind us are hit too. The Royal Guard has just fired on the people of Avernia. And the people aren''t about to take that lying down.

    The crowd surges from behind us, rushing the gate and pushing it down with their sheer mass, before rushing the guards at the gate and savaging them... We are in the world of violence again, the people of Avernia have dragged us into it. And now the real world is very far away.

    And I will have to act fast if I¡¯m going to drag Her Majesty out of this violent place. "Men! We have to secure the palace before the mob does! Follow me!"

    Some of the gendarmes are hesitant, others are attending to their injured comrades, trying to stop the mob from trampling them in their mad dash to storm the palace. But some stay behind me and follow as I run right into the center of the conflict. More guards try to pour in, try to take control of the gates again, but there are simply too many civilians for them to handle. Those guards too are overwhelmed and torn apart. A monster stalks the palace now, a headless monster that tears at whatever it can reach. And I will keep it away from Her Majesty.

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    I am the only monster that shall behold Her Majesty.

    I lead the men right into the Palace, finding the civilians ahead of us have utterly trashed the place. Stealing and defacing paintings, destroying fineries and set pieces, smashing flower pots, and kicking open doors... I remember where Her Majesty''s chambers were... And the royal apartments are on the way. The mob has a head start, but I know where to go, and more to the point, I have the desire to protect my loved ones on my side! ... Which makes how utterly exhausted I already am very awkward. I take the stairs two at a time, the gendarmes behind me barely keeping up...

    But I can feel my chest begin to hurt again, and I can feel my lungs scream in protest... Am I really in a state to save anyone?

    I make my turn to the Royal Apartments, only to find the Gendarme¡¯s commander tapping me on the shoulder, giving me a severe look. ¡°This isn¡¯t the way to the Throne Room, General Pollineux.¡±

    I gasp for breath, struggling to answer his challenge, finding all the exhaustion hit me at once the moment I¡¯d stopped moving. ¡°The¡­ The Princess is this way. The mob might hurt her!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re here to arrest the High King, Pollineux. The Princess is none of our concern. We¡¯re not going to risk our lives on any unnecessary rescues!¡±

    The gendarmes behind him nod in agreement, useless cowards. I consider throwing my power over them, forcing them again to act in the way a gendarme should.

    But that might just hurt more than I can bear right now. ¡°Fine then, go arrest the High King, I¡¯ll do my heroics alone!¡±

    The gendarme commander reaches out a hand to stop me, but I¡¯m simply too quick. I will not be stopped by something as trivial as lacking an army, or the increasing number of bludgeoned guards I find on my path. I sprint as fast as my legs will carry me to Princess Theophania¡¯s chambers¡­ And just a little further still. The mob had found her room, and a handful of them cornered her, brandishing makeshift weapons. Whatever they have planned is punishable by death in my mind, so I rush forth, stabbing the tallest one right through from behind. He crumples to the floor, and the other two¡­ Run. I almost want to chase them, to cut them down for daring to threaten my princess¡­ These are the same people that Auguste is so eager to see get paid more, to see healed of their sicknesses and freed from the influence of the gods. These are his humans¡­ And I want to kill them.

    I let them go, turning my attention entirely to Princess Theophania. She seems unharmed, a little worse for wear but she remains oddly calm. My attention goes directly to her face, trying to find any sign of distress. Her eyes¡­ They¡¯re shining.

    "Sir Serena! You saved me! Again!¡± She¡¯s so excited in spite of everything, what the hell did I do to this poor woman? ¡°I knew you would, I just knew you would! That¡¯s why I wasn¡¯t afraid, why I didn¡¯t let those awful men see me cry! Because I knew I had a brave and noble knight to protect me!¡±

    She quickly moves in to hold me, and she has a tighter grip than I could possibly have imagined. She at least makes sure not to squeeze my wounded arm, but given what just happened this feels wrong somehow¡­ It almost reminds me of Lazierte, only a lot more plush and a lot more awkward. But equally as inescapable, and equally as desperate.

    I need to get a move on. I need to save Her Majesty. ¡°P¡­ Princess-¡°

    ¡°Slaying monsters and rescuing princesses, you really are perfect, Sir Serena. Just, so perfect¡­ So perfect¡­¡± I get the impression she¡¯s trying to convince herself of something, and more than that she¡¯s trying to convince me. ¡°¡­ I can be perfect too, a perfect princess. Would you stay, if I were a perfect princess?¡±

    I feel warm, I want to die. She smells nice, I hate myself. I¡¯m tempted to give her what she wants, I should throw myself out the window.

    ¡°Theophania¡­ I have to go.¡±

    She looks utterly dumbfounded, squeezing me even tighter and giving a quite frustrated noise. ¡°You didn¡¯t stay last time. You chose a violent, scary world over your princess! ¡­ What do I have to do?! What do you want from me?! What do I have to do to make you stay?!¡±

    ¡°Princess, your mother could die if I¡¯m not there to protect her!¡±

    ¡°We have our guards-¡°

    ¡°Your guards are dead! Or dying! You saw those monsters, those freaks that would dare threaten you! I can¡¯t allow that to happen to Her Majesty, I simply can¡¯t!¡±

    Theophania has no answer to that, but she still doesn¡¯t let go. This wasn¡¯t getting me anywhere, she can¡¯t be intimidated out of holding me, out of wanting me to stay¡­ She¡¯s shaking now, she seems about to cry¡­ It would be a sin to make a woman this beautiful cry.

    ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t not want to stay, my princess. If the world beyond these doors was nothing but the most beautiful comforts in the world, I would stay with you every time. I wouldn¡¯t leave you for even the finest things.¡± A lie, my goddess would always come first¡­ And I almost think I¡¯m getting away with it. ¡°Only a scary world that needs saving, one I have a duty to protect as a brave and noble knight, would keep me away from you.¡±

    This makes her relent¡­ And makes her start crying. I¡¯m about to take the opportunity to slip away when she leans up and kisses me. She tries to force her tongue into my mouth. It¡¯s utterly inept but oddly charming. I¡¯m kissing Her Majesty¡¯s daughter again¡­ I¡¯m kissing a pretty girl who loves me dearly, and I hate that this is wrong.

    I let her tongue into my mouth, let her play around and explore. I¡¯m being blasphemous. I feel like I might cry as well, but this poor girl needs it. Needs the good that my blasphemies can do¡­ She eventually withdraws, and wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her torn dress.

    ¡°Next time you will stay. Promise me that next time you will stay.¡±

    Another oath I don¡¯t know if I can keep¡­ I get on one knee and take her hand. ¡°I promise. As a brave and noble knight, I swear that next time I will stay.¡±

    This seems to make her a little giddy, even if she¡¯s still a little weepy. ¡°Hehe¡­ And I promise I will be a perfect princess then.¡±

    I shudder. That has to be a euphemism for something, something that will somehow make me a worse person than I already am. I rise to my feet, giving her a smile and preparing to leave, before remembering.

    ¡°Bar your door with whatever you can find. The mob is still out there, I want you to be safe. Only open it for me, understood? ¡­ I¡¯ll tell you when everything is over.¡±

    She nods, and I take my leave. That was harrowing twice over. Hopefully making sure Her Majesty is safe won¡¯t be so¡­ Religiously significant. I get to sprinting once again, if I had been even a moment slower in reaching Theophania then she might not have been in a place where I could¡¯ve rescued her. I will not be too late to save Her Majesty either. I reach Her Majesty¡¯s chambers, practically barrel down the door¡­ And find six members of the mob milling about, presumably looking for a missing Queen.

    ¡°Oh! It''s General Pollineux!" One of the civilians calls out to me with a smile, holding the blood-splattered leg of a broken dining chair as a weapon. "We tried to find that foreign whore, but she''s nowhere to be found! It''s like she''s gone and disappeared."

    ... This man just insulted Her Majesty! He¡¯s willing to pick a fight with my goddess! I put my hand on the pommel of my sword, I want to teach this ruffian, this disgusting ¡®grown up¡¯ a lesson!

    But it is six against one, and I doubt these men would fold as easily as the last ones. Looking at the blood on their makeshift weapons, I can tell this wouldn¡¯t be their first scrap.

    I sigh, trying to regain my composure a little... This man has blasphemed against my goddess and threatened her safety, but regrettably today I can¡¯t kill him for it. "Haaaah... I''ve also been looking for Her- for the Queen. I''ve yet to find her."

    "Right?! Slippery bitch she is. I''m half tempted to try tearing down the walls, to see if she''s not hiding in them like a rat."

    "Not that she''d fit, right Pierre?!"

    "Hehe, good one, Vernon!"

    My mood goes from spontaneous to premeditated murder very quickly at their continued jeers against a woman I love and the goddess I worship... But something about their words brings me back down to Lutice. Tearing down the walls... Her Majesty is probably in her little secret room! Which means I absolutely need to keep the mob out of her chambers, so they don''t accidentally stumble across her.

    And I can''t just kill all of them... But I am angry enough that I think I could tell a lie. "I think she might have fled. Once the High King is secured the gendarmes are going to go over this place to find evidence of where she ran away to."

    It always feels wrong to lie. It certainly doesn''t come naturally, and I have to wonder if I¡¯m going to be caught in it. But the mob nods in agreement with my little tale. I don''t know if they bought it exactly, but at least they are compliant.

    "Ah! That... Makes sense¡­ We''d better find her before she runs all the way back to the Empire, eh?"

    "Yes... Indeed... And it will be easier to search if we can keep this room free of disturbance, so no clues are lost in the chaos. I''d like to ask you men to leave, so the gendarmes can do the work of tracking Her Majesty-"

    "Her Majesty?" The one with the chair leg raises an eyebrow... I¡¯ve messed up, if I can¡¯t fix this then it¡¯d have to be a fight.

    "A term of derision, of course! Uhhh, because she''s so... Full of herself?" It hurts to take Her Majesty''s name in vain like this, even if it might save her life.

    "Oh! Yeah, fuck ''Her Majesty!''"

    I have started a chant, one that follows this part of the mob all the way out of the room... I feel like I''ve broken something today, something that can¡¯t be fixed. Possibly multiple somethings. But Her Majesty is safe.

    I stumble over to the entrance of her secret room, and suddenly I can¡¯t keep standing any longer. I sit before the entrance and try to catch my breath, but being so close to Her Majesty, yet separate from her, seems to hinder my efforts to regain my composure.

    ¡°¡­ I¡¯m sorry I had to say those things, Your Majesty. I didn¡¯t mean it, I just had to get those ruffians out of your room. I couldn¡¯t fight all six of them, not with my wounds¡­ I¡¯ve failed you. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The wall is silent. She might not be able to hear me like this. Or maybe she simply doesn¡¯t want to speak to me.

    ¡°I kept your daughter safe. She¡¯ll be okay, even if I¡¯m a little worried about her mental state¡­ I have to go arrest your husband soon. That¡¯ll put an end to this madness.¡±

    I am faced once again with silence¡­ It¡¯s almost more than I can bear. Does she hate me now? For my blasphemies? For my failures? For my¡­ Imaginings?

    ¡°¡­ I never liked him, to be honest. You never seemed happy when you were in his presence, and I want you to be as happy as you can possibly be¡­ I want a lot of things for you¡­ I want a lot of things with you.¡±

    Silence again. My eyes burn, my voice is beginning to waver¡­

    ¡°I want to take you to visit the beaches of Kerska. I want to cook meals with you. I want to go grocery shopping and dancing and go everywhere and anywhere in the world where we can be together. I want to dote upon you when you¡¯re sick, I want to make you all better when you¡¯re hurt. And I want to hold you and never let go.¡±

    ¡°Serena¡­¡± It spoke! The wall¡­ Her Majesty spoke!

    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± I suddenly panic, I¡¯ve been baring my heart before a wall and now I have no secrets from her.

    ¡°¡­ The world needs you, Serena. You¡¯d best not keep it waiting.¡±

    There¡¯s a melancholy behind that voice, behind that wall.

    ¡°I want to stay.¡±

    ¡°¡­ But you can¡¯t.¡±

    She¡¯s right¡­ I can¡¯t. I get to my feet, I wipe my tears away with the sleeve of my officer¡¯s coat, and I give the wall a nod.

    ¡°Understood, your Majesty¡­ I¡¯ll bring an end to all this.¡±

    I make my way out of the room, finding it difficult to cross the threshold of her chamber door. If I take one more step, I¡¯ll be leaving Her Majesty behind, and once again entering the world of violence. Of ruffians and freaks, of Royal Guards firing on civilians, of cowardly gendarmes¡­ All the things that keep Alesia from being beautiful¡­ And yet, Auguste and Celeste¡¯s philosophy cares more about these people than Alesia itself. Is it simply compassion? Are they simply more loving people than me? Maybe they¡¯re smarter than me and all this has a purpose¡­ I almost wish I could care so much, that I could love so much.

    I want to kill any grown-up who dares threaten Her Majesty, or Princess Theophania, ever again.

    As I wander through the halls, slower now that I¡¯m not sprinting, I find it easier to see the utter carnage that has been wrought here. I¡¯ve gone from sprinting over corpses without a second thought to gently stepping around them, the splashes of each step through spilled blood echoing in the now lifeless grand halls. Bodies of ruffians, bodies of guards, of gendarmes, even of servants and cleaners are littered anywhere the halls allow, their blood having splashed the white interior walls red. The world of violence has spared no one. It¡¯s not a place where people can live. I have to hold my good hand over my mouth and nose as I make my way to the throne room, the smell is oppressive and threatens to make me vomit. It¡¯s somehow worse than the trench I¡¯d met Pasche in, at least that was in the open air.

    I eventually find my way to the double doors to the throne room and find the assembled gendarmes hiding from the entrance. A bullet whizzing past my ear quickly explains why, and soon I take cover with them. There are a number of wounded gendarmes being attended to by their comrades, it¡¯s apparent that they¡¯ve already tried the entrance and not had much success. Except¡­ There are still more than enough of them to storm the room. They¡¯re just scared again, aren''t they. Their cowardice is going to keep us here forever, in total limbo.

    Among the wounded I find the gendarme commander, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe, but hardly struggling to look condescending. ¡°Where¡­ The hell¡­ Were you?¡±

    ¡°¡­ Doing heroics.¡±

    ¡°While we¡­ Were doing your job¡­ It was going fine¡­ Till I caught a bullet. The boys pulled me back and from there¡­ It was just a rout. They¡¯re too scared to give it another go¡­ So at least you¡¯re here now.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Just focus on breathing, commander. The sooner I end this, the sooner we can get you a priest of Cotton.¡± As annoying as he has been, and still is, I can¡¯t help but feel sorry for him on the floor¡­

    ¡°Me¡­ And everyone else.¡± He coughs, I think he¡¯s trying to laugh.

    I draw my sword, clearly I have work to do. After all, if I don¡¯t do this, I might just be stuck in this hallway with this wounded man forever. I cast my spell over the able bodied gendarmes, and I give my order through clenched teeth.

    ¡°Storm the room. Fire at will, then charge. We will seize the High King.¡±

    With smiles on their faces and bravery in their hearts, my gendarmes rush through the doors... And are shot to pieces. I try not to look at them, and keep the rationale in mind. I have more flesh to spend than the Royal Guard has steel, we are going to win. I painfully shamble through the doors behind the second wave of gendarmes, who fire back at the reloading guardsmen before charging. It is a slaughter. The handful of guards who aren¡¯t immediately shot are quickly skewered to pieces by brave, vengeful gendarmes. Even when the last of them tries to surrender, none are spared¡­ A monster, I am a monster again. Of course I am, I¡¯ve skewered civilians to save Her Highness, I want the blood of anyone who would harm my loved ones. I had survived the world of violence, where no humans can live¡­ But at least it is almost over.

    I find His Grace seated on the throne of Avernia, flanked by the bodies of his last defenders. As I approach the throne I can see him shake, and as I raise my sword I can hear him whimper. This is the High King of Avernia.

    This is no longer the High King of Avernia. "Your Grace, you are under arrest for high treason against the people of Avernia."

 Chapter Thirty Six

    The week following my arrest of the High King has been rather a short one, most of it spent tied to my bed in the Rosierte family home. That and under the influence of Xena''s prodigious use of her new chemical solution to ''Serena getting forced to save the world''. It turns out the best way to stop me from being tempted to do something silly, like invading the Royal Palace for example, is to make me physically incapable of doing so, even if I want to. So I''ve spent most of my time asleep, occasionally interrupted by someone bringing me a meal and indulging me with news of the outside world. I hope Her Majesty is going to be okay without me. I hope Princess Theophania will be okay without me¡­

    According to the little snippets of news I''ve heard in-between chemically induced naps it seems they at least survived the storming of the Royal Palace. They weren''t arrested by The Convention or torn apart by the mob, so I can rest easy without having to plot some elaborate revenge. It seems the trial of the High King is progressing quickly, The Convention must¡¯ve wanted to get him out of the way as quickly as possible. According to Celeste he¡¯s almost... Cooperative. And I''d trust Celeste to know that when she sees it, even if it seems absurd. At least from all accounts I¡¯ve heard, the world hasn''t fallen apart in my absence from it. Which is a comfort, although it makes me wonder if my very existence invites conflict. Maybe Alesia would never have become so chaotic if only I hadn''t stepped foot in it. A ridiculous theory, I can''t possibly be that important, but it is a thought that came with a spiteful comfort.

    At least all this rest has helped my wounds recover, that and Xena dutifully ministering to them. I suppose I''m a much easier patient to deal with when I''m barely conscious and literally bedbound, a lot of progress has been made on fixing me up. I can even wiggle my left arm against the restraints! Doing so is hardly painless, but at least now the agony is not indescribable. I can probably even go outside in the state I am now, assuming I have Pasche''s very close supervision. And assuming she''ll let me in any case, she did tie me to the bed quite tightly...

    Tonight brings my only dream this week. At least I think this is a dream. I am laying in my bed, tied up as usual, and Celeste has come to bring me my evening meal. She looks as radiant as always, as beautiful as ever.

    And I am just as much a monster. ¡°Celeste¡­ You and your husband, you¡¯re Humanists, right? You care about people?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Serena. We want to make a better Alesia, one that can treat everyone better. One where they can be their best selves without fear.¡±

    ¡°That sounds nice¡­ I wish I could want that too.¡±

    ¡°Serena?¡±

    Celeste appears confused, reaching out and stroking my hair. I weep at the touch, there¡¯s simply too much going on in my head to not let it spill out. And I simply have no strength to stop it, not after a week of constant drugs and bedrest.

    ¡°I¡­ I fear them. And I hate them, I think I truly do hate them. The people of Alesia. The grown-ups. The ones who tore apart the Palace, who threatened to harm my loved ones. The ones who almost rioted at Auguste¡¯s speech, the ones who rioted a week ago, the ones who ambushed you and Auguste in the Grove of Leather¡­ The ones who don¡¯t even know my name, and can¡¯t tell me apart from my brother.¡± I wish I could wipe the tears from my eyes, but my arms remain immobile. ¡°I¡¯m a beast, a monster. That I could hate something that you all care about, that seems right and good to protect¡­ That I could kill them-¡°

    Celeste wipes a tear from my face, trying her best to smile for me. ¡°Serena, just because I care about the people of Alesia doesn¡¯t mean I have to approve of everything they do. People are violent, they are scary, they are rude, they are selfish, they are angry¡­ But they are also scared, they are disrespected, they are deprived, they are wronged¡­ And they are preyed upon. The world that hurts them doesn¡¯t allow them to be their best selves, and sometimes that leads them to hurt others.¡±

    ¡­ And they are preyed upon by people like the High King and his nobles¡­ And The Convention and their Aeduian Restorationists. ¡°¡­ Surely not everyone can be saved. A world that lets everyone be their best selves is likely to reveal that some people don¡¯t have one.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. But Humanism is about helping the people we can. The people we can¡¯t help don¡¯t make the ones we can any less important¡­¡± Celeste goes quiet for a moment, before leaning in and whispering. ¡°I understand the feeling though. The hatred, the wanting to hurt the ones who didn¡¯t protect your loved ones¡­ I hated the Cotton heads who didn¡¯t treat Selene, I wanted them to suffer.

    But I realized that they were just what the world made them be. That if they went away, the world would simply make someone else replace them, in both role and in outlook. And now I direct my hate, my wrath, my desire to hurt, against the world that brought us here. Against this normal. We can¡¯t fight everyone in Alesia, Serena¡­ But we can change the Alesia around them.¡±

    I¡¯m left shaken by the idea. That my war could be against Alesia itself, rather than the people in it. Her Majesty had seen it as such a beautiful city, but perhaps it is only beautiful from atop a hill, behind a window. Maybe if I want to take her away from that hill, I need to fix the city first. From the inside out.

    Celeste¡¯s lips meet my forehead, and she gently hums as she watches my little moral crisis unfold¡­

    And then I am awake again. I rub the sleep out of my eyes with my hands, which makes me suddenly realize something... I¡¯ve been untied. Maybe everyone trusts me to be able to get up now! And with no one around to stop me I quickly try to get out of bed... And find my limbs are very uncooperative. I suppose a week of basically no physical activity will do that to a person. At least my limbs are strong enough to get me dressed and standing up. I hadn''t really noticed at the time in my small moments of consciousness, but I appear to have been wearing a nightdress. One that smells vaguely of Celeste... I try my absolute hardest not to think about that. And my absolute hardest not to let it linger any longer than it has to. My officer''s dress will be fine. Smelling like myself will be... Fine.

    I make my way down the stairs, finding my friends and confidants all sitting around the table, having a quiet breakfast together. Auguste has his newspaper again, but upon seeing me he puts it down very quickly.

    "Ah, Serena! ... How did you get out of bed?"

    "I... Was untied?" Auguste''s confusion raises an eyebrow from me... Surely if they''ve chosen to untie me, they''ll all know about it, right?

    Pasche gets out of her chair and walks over to me, inspecting my wrists, and then dropping to the floor to inspect my ankles. "No rope burn, I don''t think she struggled her way out of the bindings."

    "... Good morning, Pasche."

    "Good morning Seren-Ah!" Pasche quickly gets off the floor, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head. "Sorry, that was probably pretty weird-"

    "You look really nice today." I give her my best smile, but I am starting to grow very concerned that my friends weren''t the ones who let me out of bed.

    "Th... Thank you." She¡¯s able to stand in the face of my flattering assessment for almost three seconds before returning to her seat, something of a blushing mess.

    I think she might have missed me, even having me entirely at her mercy for a week.

    Celeste meanwhile is a lot more bold, getting up from her chair and giving me a smile, giving my hurt shoulder a look. "Is it feeling any better, Serena?"

    "It''s mostly not in pain now, I think it''s on the mend."

    "Oh good!" She beams, and then she hugs me tightly, evoking memories of the last time I ever saw Lazierte, and of my Princess... "Welcome back, Serena."

    "It''s... Good to be back." I slowly, gently wrap my arms around her... And hold her more tightly than I expect to.

    She eventually lets go, and I let her slip free and return to breakfast. Xena gestures for me to sit next to her and I obey without thinking... Is her little domestication actually working? When I sit she begins prodding me, gauging my reaction to being touched near my old wounds. Barely hurts at all! This girl is a miracle worker... That or I still have some of whatever drugs she was giving me in my system and this is all going to sting at some point. Still, there is a one in two chance of her being a miracle worker.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    "You seem to be relatively well... I suppose it''s not the worst thing to have you up and about." She sighs wistfully, is she going to miss having me tied down?

    "I feel relatively well... Thank you for taking care of me like this. Even if it was a little... Excessive-"

    "I let you out of my sight for five minutes and you re-opened your wound fighting ruffians in a grove of Leather. I slept for a mere 17 hours and you arrested the High King! My treatment methods are excessive because you are a very excessive girl, Serena."

    "... I am trying very hard to dispute that. I don''t think I can dispute that."

    "Good. So next time you get shot or slashed or what have you I presume you will consent to the same thing, right?"

    "... Only if Pasche consents to the same-"

    "Pasche can''t tie herself up, Serena."

    "I could tie her up!"

    A sharp squeaking noise from Pasche¡¯s direction briefly catches the attention of Xena, and Celeste oddly enough, before Xena continues. "I don''t think you should be rewarding her reckless behavior like that, Serena."

    "Well... Do you tie Katarina up every time she gets shot?"

    "There is not a rope strong enough in the world to do that."

    My eyes drift over to Katarina, sitting on the floor and giving me a smile. Xena is absolutely correct, I don''t think Katarina could be bound even if she were trying to be. And apparently she can''t actually sleep, despite doing so fairly regularly... I shake my head, I promised not to speculate on Katarina''s whole deal. She''s simply a very excitable girl who might be indestructible. That''s all I need to know.

    "Serena... Aren''t you going to eat something?" Celeste calls to me from across the table, giving a mischievous little giggle. "Don''t tell me you''ve gotten used to us feeding you."

    I blush, quickly getting to the task of eating food under my own power, for what I realize is only the third time since I came to Alesia. As absolutely normal as being fed by friends and confidants is... It absolutely isn''t normal, and it provokes utterly abnormal reactions from me. Ones I should not be having.

    Speaking of things that should not be, there appears to be a large bouquet of flowers barely contained by a vase, one that absolutely was not there before. They look bright and colorful... And expensive. Not something the Rosiertes would typically buy.

    "So... What are the flowers about?"

    Everyone goes silent at the question, no one wants to give an answer to that particular inquiry. Which seems odd, they were just pretty flowers... Should I be worried about this?

    Pasche is the first to find her words again, though she mostly finds sheepish ones. "I wouldn''t worry about those. I wouldn''t even think about them."

    "... Pasche, that is not building any confidence in me that the flowers aren''t worth worrying about."

    Next, it¡¯s Celeste''s turn to find her words... And she too is being rather cagey about them. "Honestly I would have thrown them out, but it seemed rather cruel to do. The flowers didn''t do anything wrong after all."

    "You''re all talking about these flowers as if they were sent maliciously... Are they a threat? Do I need to fight someone-"

    "No no no, you don''t need to fight anyone!" This time it¡¯s Auguste''s turn to try his hand at a vague dismissal. "Just, don''t let them bother you, okay Serena?"

    "They look very expensive, only a handful of people in the city would spend this kind of money on flowers-"

    "It was the Queen. She sent them as thanks for saving her life, again." Xena speaks matter-of-factly, and quickly earns the betrayed eyes of everyone at the table.

    Her Majesty... She sent me flowers? I suddenly don''t feel especially secure on this chair, both out of a desire to jump to my feet and scream in utter jubilation, and the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed. Oh no... I''m smiling. I''m beaming. I''m probably a grotesquerie of joy. And everyone at the table can tell.

    Pasche looks about ready to flick Xena on the forehead. "Now you''ve gone and set her off. I warned you about her little queen obsession, Xena!"

    "I don''t think lying to our dear General here is particularly just, Pasche. Certainly not if it''s going to leave her worrying." Xena is pretty casual for someone who is being scolded.

    I try to get a handle on myself. This is the breakfast table, not Lazierte and I¡¯s bed... But it¡¯s flowers! From Her Majesty! She knows who I am, she cares what I do, she... She can see me! And I cannot be anything but alive when I''m in her gaze.

    "You were right, Auguste. She really does love her Queen..." Celeste looks disappointed in me... And almost a little bitter. "Really, really loves her Queen."

    "It''s definitely one of her stranger attributes, certainly." Auguste tries to excuse my bizarre behavior with a chuckle, but I can tell he too is rather displeased.

    It would never stop surprising me that I seemed to be the only one who looked at the Queen and saw ''Her Majesty''. I guess not everyone had seen her smile for them.  Maybe that''s why my friends never seemed to like my goddess... If only I could get her to smile for them too.

    "To be entirely candid, Princess Theophania also sent another of her ribbons, along with a lock of her hair, oddly enough." Xena continues, clearly to Pasche''s continuing dismay. "She said it was a thing in one of her fairy books and was supposed to be a subtle indicator of romance... Less subtle for her blatantly explaining it but I do wonder if that girl is built for subtlety."

    This at least gets a laugh out of Pasche, even if she¡¯s still quite annoyed at Xena even bringing it up. "I only met her once, but the one thing I absolutely know about her is that she certainly isn''t subtle."

    I can''t help but pout, even if Princess Theophania¡¯s... ''Affections'' for me are confusing and very distressing, I don''t want to see the poor girl be pilloried. "Well, I think her enthusiasm is quite charming. I''ll have to find a way to thank her for her gifts."

    My defense of Her Highness makes the table turn quiet in a hurry, speculating about my relationships seems to be a very awkward topic of conversation for all involved. I wonder if everyone has a better time talking about me when I¡¯m not around... I return to eating.

    And then there''s a knock on the door. And Celeste looks about ready to hit someone.

    "I swear, if they''re here to ask you to save Alesia again I will personally punch Steel right in the mouth." She stomps over to the front door in a huff.

    And soon returns with a familiar, bedraggled, out-of-breath messenger girl, with a trumpet on her sword belt. Exciting times really don''t treat the messengers well it seems. I rise to my feet and offer the girl my chair, which she happily accepts without a even hint of her former propriety. I think we might be spoiling the girl, not that she doesn¡¯t need it.

    After a few moments regaining her breath she gives a gasping proclamation to everyone present. "The High King has been found guilty of high treason and conspiring with foreign powers! His sacrifice will commence later today! The Convention has extended its invitation to Mademoiselle Serena Pollineux, as well as to Monsieur Auguste Rosierte and family.

    ... It¡¯s finally happening. He¡¯s going to be sacrificed. I have no idea how good a swordsman His Grace is, but in the times I¡¯ve seen him I haven''t gotten the impression that he¡¯s a competent warrior.

    I haven''t really gotten the impression that he¡¯s a competent anything in all honesty, but does he really deserve to die for it?

    "... He¡¯s made Her Majesty so very unhappy..." I whisper it under my breath, a little prayer to myself, before giving the messenger a nod and speaking so others could hear. "I appreciate the invitation. I believe I should attend."

    This prompts Xena to stand up and flick me on the forehead, hard. "Just because you''re mostly okay doesn''t mean you should push your luck like this. What if something else absurd happened while you were outside?"

    "Xena... I can''t just stay coddled in my room because something terrible ''might'' happen if I go outside. I can''t live a life like that."

    "That still doesn''t mean you should take stupid risks like this. I can easily see a situation where this whole thing turns into a riot or a fight, or where that Rivauld person starts something big. This has trouble written all over it!" Xena''s eyes are showing a spark of something past her usual tired expression... Maybe getting some actual sleep has made room for something else to show in her expression.

    "Do you really want to be the doctor for someone who never does anything again, Xena? I don''t think that''s fair on you, for your interesting friend to hide herself away, and never do anything interesting again." It''s honestly surprising that she seems this invested in me, she seemed conflicted about what precisely our relationship was when we talked in the Greenjacket Compound. "... I think it''s more flattering for our friendship to bring me confidence and security, rather than having it keep me coddled and protected."

    This strikes a chord with Xena, a fact she clearly hates as her lips form a pout. "Just... Be careful, okay?"

    "I promise."

    "And take Pasche with you! ... If I''m obligated to let you wander the city that¡¯s almost killed you four times I''m at least not going to let you wander it alone. Understood?"

    "Understood." My eyes find Pasche, who has already gotten to her feet and found her cuirass and saber. She''s dressing the part for this to all go terribly wrong. And admittedly, I can see a thousand scenarios where this turns to bloodshed, where I''ll need Pasche to get me through it alive and intact.

    But I am part of what caused all this to happen. I want to see how it ends.

 Chapter Thirty Seven

    The Great Groves of Steel are packed with people, which the gendarmerie are barely able to keep away from the ring of sacrifice. I''m starting to see why Xena was so anxious, it was a lot easier to be confident when I wasn''t looking at the people. The ones who stormed the Palace, who might have hurt Her Majesty... The scared ones that Auguste and Celeste want to save. With their signs and their chants, with them all moving as one... I can''t help but see it. A monster, a godless monster, with a frail leash of steel. And I know what that monster is capable of if it is given the right head.

    I reach for Pasche''s hand and squeeze. It takes a moment for her to register, given she''s wearing her mailed gloves, but she¡¯s more than happy to squeeze back gently. She looks almost oblivious to the danger the crowd represents. She must be a lot better at hiding her anxieties.

    "Sooo... Uhhhh..." Pasche coughs awkwardly, trying to work up the effort to say something both very difficult and entirely superfluous to the sacrifice of The High King. "... You ummm, said I was looking pretty this morning. You think the treatment''s working?"

    I cast my eyes Paschewards, catching her bashful little stare at the ground, and find myself tempted to rub her cheeks and tell her she''s adorable. "I always thought you were pretty, but I can''t deny you''re definitely a new Pasche already."

    She makes an honest to gods squeak, and I reach up to pat her head. She really does look nice with her hair grown out like this, and looks nicer still when she''s smiling. Which she is absolutely doing a lot of right now, and it''s utterly radiant. It¡¯s almost enough to make me forget where we are entirely.

    "Ah, General Pollineux." Malmo... Once again, he ruins the moment. "Thank you for accepting The Convention''s invitation."

    I can tell he''s trying his absolute hardest to put on that ''charm'' that I hate so much, and I genuinely cannot tell if he thinks it''s going to work on me, or if he knows it''s insufferable and this is an attempt at revenge. Well, I''ll attempt my own revenge, I run my fingers through Pasche''s hair, eliciting another lovely little noise out of her, much to Malmo''s chagrin and my own sinful delight.

    Only then do I turn my head to address Malmo, giving him my best ''If you call Pasche a man I will kill you'' eyes. "Well, I was in part responsible for all this. It''s only right that I see how it ends."

    "Right..." Malmo is clearly trying, and failing, to pretend Pasche isn''t here at all. "Well, you''re certainly owed a position right by the ring. I''ll get you through the crowd."

    "I appreciate it. Very chivalrous of you." I squeeze Pasche''s chainmail till it hurts, I do not want to lose her in a mass of people like this.

    True to his word, General Malmo is able to have some gendarmes part the crowd... And I am subjected to the triumphant approval of the mob as I pass them by, as if I hadn''t saved Her Majesty and Princess Theophania from them. As if I hadn''t cut one down to protect my loved ones.

    "General Pollineux, General Pollineux, General Pollineux!"

    None of them know my name. Half of them think I¡¯m my brother and the other half think my brother is me. It¡¯s utterly unsatisfying, it¡¯s honestly more than a little painful to be held in this kind of esteem, to have this celebrity form of ¡®love¡¯. It¡¯s probably better than having their ire, but... I can''t say fame among the people is in any way gratifying.

    "At least they''ll forget about me soon..." I mutter a little more sharply than I expected.

    Which prompts a concerned squeeze from Pasche, along with a thumb run over the back of my hand. "We''ll always remember our Serena though."

    Stupid cuirassier, it''s like she wants me to kiss her all over again, in a crowd of civilians no less... Stupid sweet cuirassier, making me want an entirely more personal kind of love.

    Malmo meanwhile is halfway to bursting a blood vessel, hearing my name chanted by the crowd. It seems that all the media spin in the world can''t beat genuine heroics, at least not in the moment at any rate. I''m sure he''ll be their darling again as soon as the hype behind me fades. But today, he''s getting no more love than he has earned.

    Eventually we make it through the crowd, with a slightly shaken Malmo stumbling away from us, suddenly introspective. "I... I think I''m going to take my place observing around the ring. You... You ladies have fun."

    He makes his leave. I''m not especially inclined to wish him goodbye... Pasche gives a relieved sigh at his disappearance, clearly just as happy as me to have him gone.

    Which... They were working together before Pasche and I met, weren''t they? "... Pasche, may I ask why General Malmo is so... Antagonistic towards you? I''m going to be honest; it feels like he actively tries to be unpleasant to you."

    This draws a completely different sigh out of Pasche, apparently this is something of a serious point of contention for the poor girl. "Haaaaah. Well, as I understand it, he had quite the crush on me... Until he learned about the condition of my body. He was honestly a little sweet when he was trying to woo me. You wouldn¡¯t recognize it in him now¡­."

    "It''s Malmo, I should have expected something that petty from him." Even if I should have expected it, I''m still struck for a minute by the revelation... I slip off Pasche''s glove and hold her bare hand for a moment. "His loss."

    Which gets a mighty blush out of Pasche, her eyes suddenly trying to look at anything but me. "Y... Yeah. His loss... I guess one man''s Pasche is another girl''s treasure."

    That might be the single lamest joke I have ever heard in my life. I burst out laughing.

    She smiles, squeezing my hand in hers. She seems happy, genuinely quite happy. It''s beautiful¡­ It¡¯s tempting¡­ Mercifully my blasphemous train of thought is interrupted when I feel a tug on my sleeve, and find a gendarme trying to get my attention. He''s giving me a frankly ecstatic smile.

    "You... You''re General Pollineux, aren''t you? You''re the one who made all this possible!" Clearly this gendarme isn''t one who accompanied me during the arrest, seeing as he''s happy to see me. "You''re a bonafide hero!"

    Pasche looks displeased at the interruption but holds her tongue. At least the gendarme¡¯s sentiments are nice. If this man had said something different, he may have discovered how dangerous Pasche can be even when she only has one glove.

    I try my best to not be bothered but somehow declarations of my heroism always sting. "I only did as was necessary. The High King had to go; he was a traitor."

    "Ooooh, principled! I like that!- Ah!" The rather animated guard gives a rather hasty salute, briefly making me wonder if I''ll be sending this man to die soon. "I''m Jean-Paul, I''ve been put in charge of the King''s ''security detail'' for the event. It''s an honor, both to meet you and to meet you under these circumstances!"

    "It''s a pleasure. I''m Serena Pollineux. And this is Pasche... Dear gods, I don''t know your last name!"

    My eyes go wide, my very best friend and I don''t know her last name!

    "... You''re right, you actually don''t!" Pasche is just as confused, but oddly enough doesn''t seem offended. "I must have neglected to tell you!"

    "I neglected to ask, it''s all my fault. My other best friend doesn''t have a last name, I just didn''t think about it!"

    "Your last best friend didn''t have a name?" Pasche ponders that mystery for a moment, before settling on something clearly more depressing. "... Best friend..."

    "Serena Pollineux and Mademoiselle Pasche then. A pleasure to meet you both, in person and for the first time!" The animated guard is somehow immune to the mood, and is regrettably devoted to being personable.

    "Oh, you''re still here." Pasche''s eyes manage to unglue themselves from the floor to glare at the intruder in our midst. "Why are you still here?"

    "Because I wished to invite General Pollineux, and by extension her associates, to speak to the King! If they wished to anyway. I hear the last words of a High King would be worth a mint to a tabloid or a newspaper!"

    "Is that right?" Pasche eyes the man with suspicion, whether she simply dislikes the intrusion or genuinely believes that he¡¯s up to no good is impossible for me to tell. "This of course relies on the High King actually dying today, Monsieur John-Paul."

    "I''ve been pushing that guy around at the end of a bayonet all day, Mademoiselle Pasche. Trust me, he''s not precisely the kind of man who wins duels. Steel will get his fill of him today."

    A chance to have an audience with His Grace before his execution. What would I even have to talk to him about? He is, by far, the least important part of Her Majesty''s family to me, what worth could be gotten out of speaking to him? ... She never liked him, she always looked uncomfortable or upset around him... Maybe she''s owed a little justice before the end. And he''s owed a little comeuppance.

    "Monsieur, I believe I will take you up on that offer." I give the animated guard a smile, much to Pasche''s surprise. "I think Phillip has a few things he needs to hear."

    "Are you sure, Serena?" Pasche gives me a look, a ''this could possibly be a trap'' kind of look.

    I run my thumb over the back of her hand, and give her my best, most self-indulgent, ''I trust you'' eyes. Because I do. I trust her to get me out of whatever mess my righteous indignation gets me into!

    ... And clearly she''s willing to accept that as an answer because she turns her attention back to the guard, rolling her eyes. "Fine, we''ll go gawk at your disgraced monarch. But if anything happens, he''ll be dead before he reaches the ring, and so will you."

    "... Crystal!" A threat to his life is apparently the only thing that can dampen this gendarme¡¯s enthusiasm, and even that can only do so briefly.

    He¡¯s back to having a spring in his step by the time we make it to the High King''s iron cage, kept out of the public eye to keep the crowd calm. He looks somehow even more pathetic than normal, sitting on the ground in that cage. But there''s something other than pathetic-ness in his eyes now... Bitterness.

    "Ah. Serena Pollineux... And the son of Baron Leopold Ursul of Etrun, what an odd pairing to see. Your father did tell me you were eccentric, Pasche, but I think he undersold it."

    He sits close enough to the bars that I can probably kick him through them. So I do it, and find my foot does indeed fit through the cage and convey enough force to put His Grace on his back. His bitterness doesn''t survive the shock of a boot to the face, for a moment he is purely pathetic again.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Pasche smiles distantly at my impulsive violence, before turning her attention to the guard who brought us here. "I''m surprised you didn''t try to stop her. I mean, you''re trying to keep him safe, aren''t you?"

    The guard gives me a conspiratorial wink. "My job is keeping him alive enough to put on a good show in the ring. Not to keep him safe. Besides, I''ve given him a kicking or two myself."

    This amuses Pasche enough to change her impression of the man from ''open threats'' to merely ''ready to kill at a moment''s notice'', which is an appreciable change, eliciting a smile from the gendarme.

    The High King''s eyes are on me again as he scrambles back to a sitting position, albeit one further away from me. "This... This disrespect-"

    "Anyone who treats Pasche like that is worthy of nothing but my disrespect... And that''s before you even consider how you treated Her Majesty."

    "Who?" The High King isn''t being contemptful this time, he genuinely doesn''t seem to know who I¡¯m talking about... It takes a moment for it to dawn on him. "Wait, the Queen?"

    "The very same Queen who always looks so upset in your presence, so listless. I don''t know what you did to her, but-"

    "What I did? I haven''t even spoken with her in months, how could I do something to make her upset?"

    "W... What?" It¡¯s my turn to be confused, how do you manage to not speak to your wife for that amount of time?

    "The last time we really interacted was conceiving Charles in honesty... I''m not sure what possessed her to ''try to make it work'' but it was never going to... Anyway, I can''t imagine you want to waste my time arguing about the Magyar in the Palace. And I must confess, I was looking to speak with you."

    "The Magyar in the Palace?" I can''t kick him anymore, he is wisely beyond my reach... But I can still kick the bars and spook him. "You will not refer to Her Divine Majesty in such a fashion! That you could be this dismissive of the most beautiful woman in the world is a crime that I will find a way to punish you for, if the Gods fail to do so first-"

    "Look, I will give you the damn woman if you just shut up and listen to me for a second, okay?"

    Somewhere in the back of my mind I know Pasche is staring at us both in stunned silence, but it''s almost a thousand miles away from me. This man, this odious freak, this king of no importance, would dare treat Her Majesty as a commodity!? ... And Her Majesty could be mine? I wish I could kick him again, and again and again and again.

    "Speak then. And try not to make me want to hit you more."

    "I''m hardly doing it on purpose..." And there was the pathetic-ness again, the High King truly is something of an idiot. "In any case, I believe you can help me. And I believe I can help you. When I get out of this, a lot of things are going to happen at once. The mob knows your name, they like you well enough. If you declare yourself on my side, we might be able to claw some ground back from The Convention."

    "And what makes you so confident that you will survive this? I don''t imagine you''re actually a master swordsman or anything."

    "I made a deal with Aeduian Restorationists. If I cooperate with my trial, if I make it as quick and smooth as possible, they''ll give me a weak opponent in the ring. One I can easily overcome and earn my freedom. Part of this promise was getting on a ship to one of the plantations off the coast of the Leather Continent and never returning to La''an again... A foolish thing to believe that I''d do. I know things, things that could be very inconvenient for The Convention if the right people knew them. Things that would tear their new Avernia to pieces, things that might give me a chance to retake my throne. With the right help, of course."

    And he thinks the ''right help'' is me... As if the people can tell me apart from my brother, as if the nobility has a kind word to say about me... And as if I would ever, in a million years, want to help him at all.

    "... I literally arrested you, Monsieur Phillip. Why do you think for a moment I would be on your side?"

    "Because the strength of the Royal Family is the only thing keeping that- ... Keeping ''Her Majesty'' alive. Let''s face it, if I can''t retake control after this, she is going to be in that ring sooner rather than later. The people despise her, The Convention''s newspapers rail against her constantly, even the nobility finds her odious. She''s alive because she''s married to me. If you''re really that devoted to her, surely you have to be on my side, right?"

    I feel a stone in my throat. Threatening Her Majesty might be the closest thing to a savvy political move that I''ve ever seen him make. And... He has a point. The mob would have torn her apart if I hadn¡¯t stopped them. The nobility gossip and belittle her as easily as they breathe. And while I''ve never once read a newspaper for the articles, I can intuit what those overstuffed men in overstuffed chairs with overstuffed inkpots are writing about Her Majesty... He''s right, in a way. Right now, the only thing keeping her safe from all of these things, is him.

    "... You''re guilty though. Of high treason, of starting this war. Thousands are dead because of you-"

    "Without the war there wouldn''t have been a muster of the witches. You never would have met this precious Majesty of yours without me."

    Now that was a painful thought. It has been two years since Her Majesty graced my life, it¡¯s hard to even consider a life where she does not dominate my thoughts... And yet, it took the deaths of many thousands of people to bring about even the possibility of it happening. And thousands more for me to earn her eye¡­

    "And besides. It wasn''t just my idea, you know." The High King manages to regain his bitter edge, if only for a moment, practically spitting the admission. "Do you really think I could start a continent-spanning war without the help of your precious, nascent Republic?"

    "I... What-"

    The gendarme opens the lock to the cell and gives the High King a glare that looks utterly alien on so kind and energetic a face. "It''s time, Monsieur Phillip. You''re going to face justice today."

    The High King rises to his feet and calmly walks over to the gendarme, giving me one final little whisper as he passes me by. "When I am finished here, meet me at the Palace. We have much to discuss, General Pollineux."

    Soon the pair disappears into the crowd, along with the rest of the High King''s ''security detail''. I can hear the taunts of the people from here. Pasche is finally back in my world again, and takes my hand and squeezes it, though she looks rather shaken.

    "Please tell me you are not considering siding with the same High King you almost got killed arresting."

    "... No. No no no, absolutely not, I am... Absolutely not considering it." I don''t know if I''m trying to lie to myself or to Pasche, but I think I''ve failed either way.

    ¡°Serena..." Pasche tries to work up the courage to say something, to chide me again... But she simply sighs and gives me a big hug. "Let''s just... Have today. We can think about ruining our lives more than we already have tomorrow... Alright?"

    "I appreciate that, Pasche." She really is a wonderful friend... I want to kiss her again, even if I can¡¯t possibly justify it. "When we''re done here, let''s go somewhere nice."

    "Y... Yeah!" For a moment I think Pasche is going to lift me again, but she manages to restrain herself. "Your whole time in Alesia has been doom and gloom, let''s find literally anything good about it together!"

    "Hehe." I slip away from her embrace and take her hand again, as much as I''d love to keep hugging her we''re liable to miss the sacrifice at this rate.

    We manage to slip through the crowd again to find a better spot to watch from. Being a minor celebrity has its advantages, even if half the members of the crowd call me ''Antoine'' as I pass them. I wonder if the displeasure from this is anything like what Pasche has to go through when Malmo calls her ''monsieur''. Poor Pasche¡­

    We find a place to watch from just as the main event begins, just as the bodies from a prior sacrifice are dragged away... Was that the Marshal? ... He must''ve been in on the treason plot, that or The Convention is simply cleaning house... It''s perhaps appropriate that he be fed to Steel, even if I never thought he''d fail to survive a sacrifice. Maybe he simply wasn''t up to the task of living up to the lectures he screamed at teenagers.

    "He looks so terrified..."

    My private mumblings are quickly drowned out by the absurdly loud shouting of an announcer. Another priest of Steel, one who presumably had a bone to pick with the Marshal, or was otherwise fine with his own religious authority being skewered in front of a cheering audience. He looks animated enough, excited enough, genuine enough.

    "What a show, folks! I am certain Steel will be pleased by the loss of a traitor, of a frail old Marshal!" The crowd cheers, clearly respect for the dead is not on the menu here... Would there have been cheers during my sacrifices, had there been an audience? "And now, for the main event! The thing you have all been waiting for. Guilty of the crime of High Treason and collusion with foreign powers, it''s His Majesty, Phillip Crixis!"

    The High King stumbles into the ring; the guard clearly having given him one last little kick before throwing his ritual sword at him. He tries to compose himself with as much dignity as he can, not that it¡¯s enough to stop the crowd from booing him. Still, he looks confident. He truly believes whatever deal he¡¯s made with The Convention will be honored¡­

    "And, his opponent today, guilty of aiding and abetting treason, and being material to a conspiracy to subvert the will of the people of Avernia. it''s His Highness, Prince Charles!"

    The confused young boy is much more gently forced into the ring, being handed his sword as opposed to having it thrown at him. Even so, I am stunned into silence. Pasche is stunned into silence.

    For a moment, the whole world is stunned into silence.

    And then the crowd cheers.

    Cheers for the blood of the royal family, howling in delighted anticipation for watching this family of traitors die. To see ''justice'' done... Charles stumbles out, not even trying to look dignified, clearly confused by what is happening.

    He¡¯s holding his sword backward; he''s clearly never touched one in his life. "... Father... What''s going on? They took me from my room and... What''s happening?"

    Whatever little dignity Monsieur Phillip managed to muster disappeared in an instant, as he runs to his son¡¯s side in the middle of the ring. His Grace grabs his own sword by the blade, ritual swords have no scabbards, so it¡¯s a little difficult to signal not being a threat in the middle of a fight to the death.

    "Son! ... Why have they brought you here?"

    "I don''t know! I was taking a nap with my cat and my dog and my turtle, and suddenly some men with guns told me I was a traitor and needed to be punished! I didn''t know what they were talking about, and they didn''t explain it no matter how many times I asked! ... Father, I''m scared. What am I supposed to do?"

    Phillip simply freezes in place, which leads to more boos from the impatient crowd, its people eager for blood. They want to watch a fight, not a family drama... And the former High King is not giving that to them.

    "... Close your eyes. Close them tight, and don''t open them until I tell you to. Okay?"

    "Okay, father..."

    Prince Charles closes his eyes, and Phillip looks at the blade in his hand, biting his skin. For a moment, it looks as if he might take advantage of the situation, that he¡¯ll run Charles through while he¡¯s completely vulnerable.

    Phillip turns to the crowd and speaks, quietly at first, but quickly putting some volume behind it. "You know something? I never once wanted to be your High King. Never in my life have I ever, ever wanted to rule over you all. It simply held no appeal to me, not even once. Not even now.¡±

    The crowd''s boos lessen, they¡¯re starting to listen... Something in me tells me that this is not a good sign.

    ¡°But I did it. I did it because it was my role, it was what I was born to do. I suffered, I stumbled, I was left bored and alone, surrounded by sycophants and political machinations. And still I was your High King. Because that is what I was put upon Lutice to do!¡±

    The mob is a sea of nervous murmurs, of little whispers and guilty utterances. Somewhere in there, several guards are lining up shots.

    "If there is one thing I have loved in all this world, if there is anything that this service to you has given me, it is my son. My beautiful son Charles, who was so kind and delicate, who could never harm a soul¡­ And now, you have put him in a ring of Steel. Your Convention has given him a sword and is ready to watch him die. All because of you!¡± Phillip¡¯s soft-spoken voice was long gone, replaced by irrational, almost primal screams. ¡°Because you won¡¯t do what you were put on Lutice to do! Because you want to break the system! Because you refuse to suffer as I have! You all blame me for this? I only did my role! Despite the pain, despite the struggles, I have only ever been your High King! And this is what I get from you?!¡±

    The crowd is dead silent now¡­ Pasche has a hand on the hilt of her sword..

    ¡°And now, once again, in the face of suffering, in the face of trials and tribulations, it once again falls on me to be your High King! To be as an Avernian High King should be! And to die as a High King dies!¡±

    The former High King turns his blade upon himself, stabbing himself in the gut. He quickly falls to his knees, bleeding profusely, clearly in a lot more pain than he anticipated. It¡¯s taking all his willpower, and a great deal of spite, to not weep openly at his own death.

    And as the silent crowd watches on, utterly enraptured, the former High King gives his final words. "Long. Live. The King."

    And he too falls silent.

    It takes a little while longer for him to die, bleeding and convulsing on the uncomfortable grass of the Grove of Steel, but eventually he is still. Eventually it is over. There are no cheers, no boos, nothing. Just absence.

    Broken only by the confused sobs of His Highness... No, High King Charles the Twelfth of Avernia. "... Can I... Can I open my eyes yet, Father?"

 Chapter Thirty Eight

    The Convention called another emergency session, which has both ruined my planned day with Pasche and left me wondering if they ever meet for anything other than emergencies. I guess I can understand them attempting to minimize their exposure to their dull Convention Hall. Maybe there needs to be a crisis for anyone to want to be anywhere near the place, but they probably should have thought of that before they sacrificed the King. Surely they had to know just how dramatically it might derail their Sunday afternoons. Some of them even aren''t wearing their colors, instead dressed for leisurely strolls or for late luncheons, or to watch the sacrifice with their families... It¡¯s all a little ridiculous, but that simply must be the nature of having a government this big, having to organize this many people into a room. Especially in a time of turmoil like this.

    I wonder if The Convention works better when I''m not around to cause headaches for them.

    "Order! Order, Gentlemen!" The wigged man from before is valiantly trying to keep this assembly on track, an unenviable job given the hundred or so people currently grumbling about their sudden summons, or terrified by recent events. "We are only going to make it through this with calm, rational and insightful decision-making."

    Sitting amongst Auguste and his Humanist contemporaries I notice the absence of the old man from last time. Maybe he simply was not informed quickly enough. Or perhaps he simply... Wasn''t informed at all. He was the one who was able to command the respect of the entirety of The Convention. Without him... This whole thing is liable to be much, much more difficult.

    The crowd manages to calm themselves enough for the session to continue, a mercy to the long-suffering barrister. "Now... We have assembled here to discuss the... Unforeseen conduct of the Late Phillip Crixis."

    "Who would have thought there was even a scrap of honor in him?" One of the men in green is quickly quite embarrassed, apparently not knowing just how loud he¡¯s speaking. ¡°I thought it was a foolproof plan.¡±

    "Right." The barrister nods, but is clearly holding back the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We had all expected for him to simply skewer the prince and lose all respect from the people. It would have been impossible for him to retaliate against us then. This act of his, however..."

    "It might be the first effective political maneuver that our former High King has ever made." One of the men in purple interrupts the barrister much more confidently, willing to take the focus of the meeting hall. "Any popular enthusiasm we had built is gone now, the people don''t know what to think."

    "I hear some of them are stealing stacks of newspapers and burning them as an act of protest." One of the scaled ones snipes from across the Convention Hall, their tone is quieter than I usually expect from a priest of Steel.

    "Well half of them can''t read, schooling is too expensive. The newspapers might be more useful to them as kindling than as propaganda." Auguste''s little witticism provokes a number of chuckles throughout the hall.

    "Yes yes, very droll, Minister Rosierte." The wigged man narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes, part of me wonders what he must be like when he isn''t poisoned by decorum. "However we are not going to be able to reignite republican fervor with jokes. We''re here for solutions, gentlemen."

    For a moment there''s a lull in the hall... No one has any ideas. Not one of these hundred-something ''very important people'' have anything worthwhile to say. I''m not even sure why these people are even here! ... If it weren''t for Auguste, I wouldn''t know why I''m here.

    ... But he truly thinks this gaggle of rich people can somehow produce a better Alesia, and a better Avernia, so it''s worth trying to help them along. "If we can''t reach the people by simply saying what we want them to think, maybe we can actually do something to be worthy of their thoughts."

    The wigged man frowns in my direction, clearly still not too fond of me after my testimony a week prior. "Minister Rosierte, please keep your little ''guest'' quiet. She is not a minister of The Convention; she cannot propose actions."

    Auguste puts a hand on my shoulder, a sympathetic one, but a defeated one. I look down, I hate this stupid Convention.

    "Now, does any member of The Convention have any actions to propose?"

    Silence again, until Auguste speaks once more. "Well, if we can''t reach the people by simply saying what we want them to think, maybe we can actually do something to be worthy of their thoughts."

    There is another brief exchange of laughter in The Convention, during which Auguste looks my way and gives me a cheeky smile. It¡¯s still frustrating, but I have to admit there¡¯s some humor to be found in it. Women weren''t allowed to join The Convention despite the fact they''re perfectly capable of steering it.

    Actually, that might be an idea of how to get the people back on side! "Psst, ''Minister Rosierte''. This might be a good time to advocate for the rights of women."

    He nods, and prepares to speak again... Except the people of The Convention have taken our idea and run with it, and are not interested in slowing down to let the Humanist Salon get a word in.

    "What can we do that would be popular among the people?"

    "We can''t precisely do a giveaway or a dole, most of our resources are going towards the war effort."

    "It has to be something cheap."

    "Something ''symbolic''."

    "And something we can do quickly."

    "What are the people gossiping about then? A pretend enemy we can vanquish."

    "... Well there are always rumors about the Queen."

    ... I blink, and the words do not evaporate from my head. That purple shirt did in fact bring the queen into this... I wonder if I can fight everyone in The Convention and win now that I¡¯m mostly better.

    "Perfect! She''s been ready for a trip to the Groves of Steel for a while now, we''ll arrange it posthaste!" That very same purple shirt has much of The Convention nodding along with him now, oh gods.

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    I shake. I miss my sword. Will I really have to kill everyone in Alesia just to protect Her Majesty? Auguste picks up on my distress, and to my surprise he turns his attention to the man in purple... Is he agreeing with this plan too?

    "Minister Roland." Isn¡¯t Auguste addressing the same man who tried to hug me before my testimony... The same one who led the castigation of me over a week ago. "Her Majesty is, by all records, an innocent woman. What grounds would we even have to sacrifice her?"

    "Oh, we''ll find something." It''s fairly clear that he means that The Convention will make something up, he just can''t say it. "It doesn''t have to be bulletproof; the people will take anything. And it''s not as if anyone will stand in defense of her, right?"

    I will... I will kill anyone I have to. There are guards in the room, they have muskets and bayonets, if I can seize one¡­

    "Does abusing our authority to murder our political enemies really sound like a viable solution to us having earned the displeasure of the people by abusing our authority to murder our political enemies?" Auguste is still trying... He¡¯s defending Her Majesty! "This is not a good look for us, Roland, surely you must see that."

    "Only a Humanist could hold such an opinion, Rosierte. And the people out there in the streets, the average Alesian? They aren''t Humanists. They will not see or care about the contradiction, so long as we''re seen to be taking care of long-overdue problems. You have to admit, your moral arguments matter a lot more to you than they do to the people you''re advocating for."

    "Just because they can''t understand why it''s wrong doesn''t mean it isn''t! This is murder, Roland!"

    "I never said it wasn''t. But whether or not it is murder is simply immaterial to its utility. Besides, The Crown would use murder as a tool to maintain their power too, if you''ll recall. Seems foolish to deny ourselves a useful tool because it violates the self-indulgent sensibilities of some of our members, right?"

    Madness. They''re insane, all of the grown-ups of The Convention are insane.

    One of the green shirts gives a nod and stands to his feet. "I believe the Constitutional Monarchist Salon could consent to this prospect. We can spin it as freeing the new king of corrupting influences. We could even explain away our little arrest of poor Charles as the result of things his mother put him up to. I believe we can make this a true compromise."

    A scaled priest also stands up and nods at the proposal.

    "It will legitimize our claim to be the rightful expression of the will of Steel if we can keep him well fed. The Steel Salon will also support the motion."

    "... The Humanist Salon cannot and will not support this motion." Auguste sounds defeated... When I kill everyone in this room, I will allow him to flee. "This is murder, plain and simple. What is the point of building a new Avernia if it will operate just the same as the old one?"

    This provokes a frown from the chief purple shirt, this ''Minister Roland'' person... "Rosierte, the old man is dying. And your vestigial smattering of loyalists will lose all relevance once he does. So disagree with what you like while you still can. It won''t change anything."

    Auguste sits down again... The Convention appears to be making plans to murder my goddess around my ears and there''s nothing that can be done. There''s no realistic way that I am actually going to be able to kill everyone in this room, and I''m not even certain that anything will change even if I do... But I can''t do nothing! I can¡¯t just let this happen!

    I quickly get to my feet, standing on my chair so I am the tallest thing in the room, I demand to be heard! "Have you no hearts, monsieurs?! Is this what you want power for? To kill the innocent?! To mislead the people of Avernia?! You are no better than the mob, the violent rabble that almost tore the city apart! Every man here belongs in a Grove of Steel more than Her Majesty does, how dare you even suggest bringing her harm! Is there no humanity in The Convention anymore?!

    The wigged man looks about ready to burst a blood vessel, stepping off the dais and towards me, having clearly met the limits of political civility. "You do not get to disrespect The Convention! Guards! Have her removed from the Hall immediately!"

    The guards move to arrest me, but Minister Roland raises a hand and they immediately cease. What is this purple shirt thinking? ... He almost looks sympathetic to my plight... The hypocrite.

    "Now, now, this is the hero of the hour! The one who has saved Alesia over and over these past two weeks. We owe her more than simply casting her out of our hall, we owe her so very much!" ... That smirk... I wonder if I can rush over and punch him before the guards stop me. "Which is why I believe it is our duty to rescind our castigation and allow Mademoiselle Pollineux to return to the front lines! As the General she is. She has more than proven herself brave and dedicated to our cause after all."

    ... The Convention seems to be humming in agreement, the very same people who recalled me to Alesia, who humiliated me so... Are going to throw me back to the frontlines the moment it suits their convenience... They want me to be their monster, all the while they murder Her Majesty! I won''t allow it!

    I try to speak, to rebuke this idea, but a prominent green shirt stands up and takes the floor. "Her brother is returning to Samnia tomorrow if I remember correctly. Perhaps she should be allowed to accompany him, win some glory for our brave army there."

    Lazierte? ... I shake my head, The Convention cannot tempt me away from my Goddess! Even if they hold my first best friend over me... I prepare for another outburst.

    Auguste looks quite down, sitting among the Humanists, watching everything fall apart in an instant... We really have lost, haven''t we? There''s no winning here. Not against all the purple shirts that money can buy, against the normal that produces them. I slump back into my chair beside him... I heard once that misery loves company.

    Roland gives a horribly smug little smile, happy to drop the issue that is my existence. "Oh yes, while we''re sending people places, we should send a messenger to tell the crew of the ''Merciful Voyage'' to stand down. Phillip will hardly be needing his escape plan now that he''s found his own."

    Another smattering of laughs in the hall, these people are freaks... Wait, a ship leaving Avernia? All prepped and ready to go?

    "That one was in Burdigala, right? It''ll be weeks before we can get the message out to them.¡±

    "Why can''t we just use the usual method?"

    "The Witch we were employing to send messages back and forth is now refusing to work with us¡­¡±

    ¡°She might make a good opponent for the Queen, in honesty. Might send her a message.¡±

    A ship in Burdigala... That''s on the western coast of Avernia. About two weeks hard ride away, three weeks by carriage... I may not be able to fight the entire city of Alesia, and maybe I couldn¡¯t change the city from within The Convention, but I can steal suitable transport for Her Majesty.

    I can get her to this ship. I can keep her safe! ... And it''s looking like I might be out of any other options.

    I scramble up once again, seriously confusing Auguste and drawing the eyes of the people of The Convention. Do they expect me to give another speech? I don''t have time for useless speeches! I escape the seating in the Hall as quickly as I can and I start sprinting. I will sprint all the way to the Palace, I will get The Queen out of here.

    If only I was as strong as Katarina, I could carry her all the way to Burdigala.

 Chapter Thirty Nine

    Sprinting the entire way up the hill to the Royal Palace of Avernia is an incredibly stupid thing to do. But I do it anyway, leaving confused Alesians and near misses with fruit carts in my wake. I wonder if this will end up in a newspaper somewhere. ''Local General goes crazy, commits high treason, steals queen.''... But I don''t care. The people of Alesia, their newspapers, their confused looks at a girl trying to save a life, their violence and their weakness, all these things are a threat to Her Majesty. And I can no longer wait for the world to change, and for them to change with it. Her Majesty simply doesn¡¯t have that kind of time.

    ¡­ I''m leaving Auguste and his mission behind, aren''t I? Even if I could convince Pasche, Xena and Katarina to cut and run with me, even if I keep being Princess Theophania''s knight forever... I''m still abandoning Auguste. And Celeste¡­

    I''ve caused them enough pain, maybe abandonment is the best penance I can offer them.

    Approaching the old, white stone walls of the Palace, something occurs to me. The Royal Guard, whatever''s left of them, are unlikely to be pleased to see me. Given the storming, the High King-napping, and failing to save their Princess-protecting comrades from the Wolfman in Triumph Square, I wouldn''t be surprised if they had words for me. Very loud words. Mercifully, for all the same reasons the Guard might take issue with me, there aren''t many of them left to actually catch me. I take deep breaths, panting like a lunatic is probably a good way of getting caught quick. This has to be perfect¡­

    Most of the Guards outside are watching the still broken gate, so the best solution is to climb the walls. I try my best to scramble up them... And it seems that walls are designed very specifically to prevent this kind of thing. Sheer, no handholds, even though I¡¯ve mostly recovered from my wounds these walls are simply impossible to climb! However, I notice something odd as I make my absurd scaling attempt. The walls feel... Very weak. I decide to play a hunch. I draw my sword and start trying to chisel a way through. The old walls of the Palace have long since lost their firmness, they crumble under the pressure of sharp steel, wielded with purpose.

    In no time at all I''ve carved a perfectly serviceable hole in the wall and can crawl my way into the garden... It seems the full-length windows that lead into the Glass Garden haven''t been replaced, they¡¯re simply covered by wooden boards. This building has seen better days... It¡¯s hard to see it in the same sublime light when it¡¯s so scarred. Well, the guards aren¡¯t patrolling the unbroken windows, so there''s my entrance. I smash the glass as quietly as I can and slip in, trying not to cut myself on any shards. It feels almost profane, until I remember that Her Majesty and I are leaving this place behind, we¡¯re never seeing this place again. So it hardly matters what happens to it, right?

    "This place could never contain the sheer majesty of... Her Majesty."

    Awkwardly shuffling through the Palace, trying to dodge servants and guards, I can''t help but notice the barely cleaned, barely fixed consequences of the storming. I swear there are flowerpots here that weren''t here before, filled with red poppies... Many of the paintings lining the walls have been defaced or stolen, there is still broken glass on the floor from broken chandeliers, the entire place still smells faintly of rust and sweat... This building might never recover from my handful of visits, forever tied to the world of violence.

    I press on, trying to banish any other thoughts from my mind. Of the people who were killed, the things that were destroyed, the monsters that were born. I manage to sneak my way to the Queen¡¯s Chambers... But I am left with a problem. There is a guard outside the door, doing a very good job of keeping Her Majesty safe from the one person who has a plan to keep her safe¡­

    I''ll make it quick. I draw my sword; I take two silent steps... And then three very loud ones as I rush him. He only barely manages to turn around in time, there is nothing he can do to protect himself from me.

    I hit him with the hilt, hard. I''m hardly the strongest woman in the world, but with the element of surprise and a good hit to the temple I am able to knock the man unconscious... A riskier move but killing him would be... Well, it will likely displease Her Majesty, and that simply will not do.

    I walk over the limp body of the guard and open the door to the Queen''s chambers... And find her sitting on her bed, eyes drifting over to me. Eyes full of resignation. "I know what you''re thinking, and I cannot run away with you, Serena."

    I sheathe my sword, and this time I do in fact run to her side, showing no care to what is proper. She stands, meeting me a few steps away from her bed... And in this moment, I can¡¯t see Her Majesty anymore. I see the Queen Consort of a dead High King, a scared woman named Katje. One who I have sat with, one who I had danced with¡­ One I like very much¡­ She''s slightly taller than me, I never noticed it before.

    But that''s not what I''m here for¡­ I¡¯m here to save Her Majesty! "Your Majesty, The Convention is drafting plans to frame you for treason and have you sacrificed! We have to go; Alesia simply isn''t safe for you anymore!"

    "Would the road be safe for you, Serena?" Katje¡­ Her Majesty''s voice reminds me very much of Theophania''s dead tones from our first meeting... Like mother, like daughter. "If you''re caught doing this, if we''re even caught speaking, you could be thrown in the Groves too. Or shot, or killed in any number of ways¡­ Even if you survive, you''ll be ruined-"

    "I don''t care about any of that!" I stamp my foot; I already know these things! "I made an oath and I''m keeping it! I figured it out, I know I would happily die for you! No one will scare me away from this! Not when it''s the only way."

    "... I guess it really would be, wouldn''t it? The whole of Lutice seems determined to see me die, just for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time... Where in the world would we even go, Serena?"

    "There''s a ship, in Burdigala, it was prepared to take your late husband, away from all this. It¡¯s ready to sail to some plantation off the coast of the Leather Continent. We can take it! Surely we''ll be safe across an ocean!"

    "And you think we''ll make it to Burdigala?"

    "I will make sure of it! I may not be able to kill everyone in Alesia for you, but I can fight off our pursuers! ... And I happen to still have a battalion of mercenary cannibals who are still under contract with me, they''ll go a long way in keeping us safe-"

    "Serena!" Katje snaps her fingers in front of my face, as if trying to break me out of a trance. "... I won''t leave my children behind."

    "You don''t have to! Princess Theophania would be happy to come along, and Charles-"

    "Is the new High King of Avernia. Even if they might ignore me disappearing, they¡¯ll at least pretend to care about their sovereign being kidnapped. You have to face facts, Serena... There''s no hope here."

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    "We have to try!"

    This breaks her out of her stupor, suddenly filling her eyes with emotion¡­ Violent, angry emotion. "You don''t have to do anything! You are a popular general, you have friends in The Convention, you have a life to lead! I can''t just take it from you!"

    "It''s you that gave me that life!" I... I''m raising my voice at Her Majesty! ... I''m screaming at Katje¡­ "It was you that rescued me from what fate had in store for me, you who brought me here, you who kept me safe and sane through all of this! ... I can only be a monster because I can be your monster, your Majesty. I owe you everything, and I intend to pay you back in full!"

    "Why?!" Katje looks about ready to start crying. "Anyone else would take what I have given them and run out the door! They would go enjoy the new life they were granted, and wouldn''t think twice about the things that brought them there! I don''t see any of the other Comrade Witches coming to my aid like this, no one else I''ve ''rescued'' seems to care... So why did it have to be you who cares?! Why you?!"

    ... I''ve made her upset again. I really am an irredeemable sinner, a blasphemer without equal... She¡¯s asked a question, and I have to answer it. Only, my lips refuse to form words.

    My lips press themselves against Katje¡¯s... And I swear, I feel her pressing back. There is the briefest of moments where this might stop, where I might restrain myself and go back to persuading Her Majesty to let me risk life and limb on the slimmest of chances of saving her.

    That moment is over, I slip in my tongue. Katje accepts it into her mouth. At some point my eyes close, and yet I can see every inch of Katje in my mind. Because I''ve been here before, haven''t I? In dreams, in thoughts... In feverish imaginings of Her Majesty. It feels like coming home, this is my normal. Her beautiful scent has become almost second nature to me, her warmth is my dearest and most constant companion. I... I never want to be anywhere else, ever again.

    Metaphorically anyway. Spatially speaking I take a few steps, pressing Katje up against one of the walls in her chambers, kissing all the while. Her being slightly taller than me presents a challenge, but I was willing to kill for Her Majesty, I''m more than willing to walk on my tiptoes for Katje...

    I wonder what she''s thinking. This is my home, I''ve been here before, but this must be new to her. It''s not as if she ever... Thought about me in this fashion, right?

    Her hands slip into my uniform jacket, because they belong there. They brush over my body, curious, exploring... Clearly not quite knowing what they''re doing. It''s magical, but a little frustrating. All of my skin yearns for her touch, but some parts more than others... Her Majesty got it right when we danced in the Glass Garden, I am a very greedy girl.

    The hands slip away from me for but a moment... A glorious, entrancing moment, as Katje slips her shoulders out of her dress and lets the top half of her garment slide down her form, exposing her chest to me... I feel dizzy. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I could violently die in the most painful fashion imaginable and I would still be focused entirely on Katje¡¯s breasts. I simply can''t help myself, I put my hands upon them. I hear a little moan from her upon contact, and my knees become weak. She''s... She''s melting under my touch. She wants this, she wants me! And she''ll have me, she''ll have as much of me as there is to give.

    I slip my mouth away from hers, giving a few intense and passionate kisses to her neck, before my lips join my hands on Katje¡¯s chest. The moans continue, louder now, encouraging and stimulating and yet with an innocent quality about them. She¡¯s never made these noises before; she is not accustomed to this. And I will make her form a habit of it.

    I remove my hands for a second, sliding my arms out of my uniform jacket and letting it fall to the floor. I won''t be needing it any longer. I feel Katje¡¯s fingers making an attempt on the buttons of my dress, provoking a very loud noise from me at the mere thought that she might see me without it. I love her. I love her I love her I love her I love her I love her-

    "I love you." Katje slips off enough buttons to sneak a hand into my dress, gently brushing the back of it over my chest, because it belongs there.

    "I love you." As she plays gently with one of my breasts, I slide a hand further down her form, down the length of her dress and between her legs.

    "I love you." Even through her dress I can tell Katje is utterly soaked, and the merest touch stops her in place for a moment, giving her a shudder... Maybe I can''t ever give her children, but I can give her this.

    "I love you!" I can''t help myself, I bite her beautiful pale skin, leaving a lovely red mark on one of her breasts... Renee taught me a great many things, and I intend to show Katje all of them.

    "I love you!"

    She pushes me away.

    It takes an impossibly painful moment for me to process that there is now physical space between me and Katje. That I''m not longer touching her skin, that I am no longer feeling her warmth. That I am no longer home. I almost step to bridge that space again, but my legs simply will not obey me. It was Her Majesty who pushed me. My goddess pushed me away. I... I have done something wrong. Something very, very wrong.

    "... General Pollineux, this¡­ This is behavior unbecoming of an officer of the Avernian Army." She¡¯s trying to be stern, a voice I¡¯ve never heard from her before.

    "I... What? Y... Your Majesty-"

    "That is not the appropriate form of address... If you leave now, I am willing to overlook this breach of conduct, and allow you to return to your military career without incident. The guards will allow you to leave, and we will never speak of this again."

    "... No..." Staying upright is no longer an option. I crumble, falling to my knees. "No..."

    "If you will not leave of your own accord, I will have to call the guards to drag you out." She¡¯s reached the limit of her ability to put on a stone face... She''s struggling very hard, to reject me like this.

    "No..." I hang my head in shame, what did I do? Where did I go wrong? Which blasphemy was it? "No, please..."

    "General Pollineux-"

    "No!" Please, please Your Majesty, call me by my name.

    "... Guards!"

    "Your Majesty, please! Don''t do this!" The words are practically falling out of my mouth now, as the shock wears off and my body remembers how to scream. "The things I''ve done, they were all for you! The sacrifices, the battles, the people I''ve killed even in Alesia. The wounds I''ve taken, the danger I have put myself in, I could not do these things if they were not in service of you!"

    "Guards!" Her voice breaks as she gives her command, tears are beginning to sneak into the corners of her eyes.

    "Thousands... Thousands died to bring us this moment! To bring us a way that we could both live, that we could be together like this! Please. Please do not dismiss me! I couldn''t bear that; I couldn''t survive that!"

    "... You have a world beyond me, one that wants you to live in it." A whisper... A sad little whisper.

    And a lie, it¡¯s nothing but a lie! "I don''t live without you, Your Majesty! I can''t! Not as the monster I''ve become! ... Please, tell me it wasn''t all for nothing¡­ Tell me that you want me by your side! ¡­ Say my name, I beg of you!"

    The door opens and a pair of guards charge in, muskets at the ready and aimed at me... It feels appropriate that I should die like this, right now¡­

    "Guards, take General Pollineux away from the Palace. Ensure she is not harmed in any fashion. And be discreet, no one is to know of her visit here. Do you understand?"

    One of the guards approaches me, I hear their footsteps... But the other stays put and keeps his musket aimed and ready. "This scum doesn''t deserve your mercy, your Grace... What did she do to your dress-"

    "Never you mind what happened to my dress, just get her out of here!"

    "... Yes, your Grace."

    The second guard steps forward to help drag me from where I weep upon the floor. I can''t even begin to stop them, there¡¯s no strength in my limbs, no soul behind my flesh. I had left that at home, and now I am being dragged away from it, never to return. I''ve failed¡­ I''d blasphemed¡­

    I''d fallen in love with Katje, when I deserve nothing more than the privilege of worshiping Her Majesty.

 Chapter Forty

    "Mademoiselle, I think you may have had enough-"

    "Please, bartender. Another."

    I place another gram upon the table, and the nervous looking attendant reluctantly pours me another glass of wine. I wonder if he knows who I am. I wonder if he''s scared to deny me... Or perhaps he''s simply being paid to pour drinks and doesn''t have the luxury to say no. Either way, another glass of wine finds its way in front of me, and despite my sluggish and uncertain hand I¡¯m even able to grasp it.

    "Thank you, bartender."

    It was cruel of those guards to leave me here, and it was a cruel place to realize I have money left over from that purse Antoine had given me. It wasn¡¯t enough for shoes, but it might just be enough for me to drink myself to death. Drinking myself to death sounds like a little piece of paradise after the day I''ve had. Who even cares about oaths anymore? It doesn''t matter... Nothing matters.

    I take a sip, the vile red liquid hasn''t become any more pleasant even after five glasses, but I''ve at least gotten better about not retching at the taste. This is what grown-ups do, isn''t it? What the world makes them do. Maybe this is why everyone can stomach the world''s normal, because they poison themselves into a stupor at every opportunity... Am I broken then, for finding this so unpleasant?

    Another sip, somehow this one is worse than the first, and my eyes start looking for anything to distract me from the burning river of long dead grapes in my throat... I wonder what Leather makes of fermentation, leaving dead grapes out and uneaten until they''re poisonous. I''ll have to ask Katarina if she ever learns Avernian. And if she doesn''t eat my wine-soaked corpse after tonight.

    This place I''ve been left in is a rather ramshackle little establishment and doesn''t look to be a popular one. In a corner booth a gaggle of soot covered, exhausted children share glasses of something clear and presumably foul-tasting, looking to drink away a hard day''s work in the factories. A single gendarme sits alone drinking glass after glass of something amber, apparently having much the same idea as me. And probably not without reason, given the recent tragedies that have befallen the Gendarmerie he''s probably lost friends. I wonder if he''s lost lovers¡­

    Either way, it would be hypocritical to interfere.

    Sitting at the bar, just a few chairs down... Is a blonde woman in a vibrant red dress. Brighter and likely far more pleasant than what is in my glass. Probably tastes nicer too... A blasphemous thought, but I was just forsaken by my goddess anyway. If I¡¯m going to die tonight, if I¡¯m going to hell no matter what, what¡¯s the harm in adding to my sins?

    I push my half empty glass aside and place another gram upon the bar top. "Bartender, please give that woman whatever she might like."

    The bartender looks immensely confused, and more so when I point out the woman in question. Still, he drifts over to her, and soon pours her a glass of something golden and full of bubbles. The exact opposite of me, but I can hardly fault her for that. She looks like she has good taste after all.

    And yet she completely ignores the drink she is offered, instead getting out of her chair to take a seat beside me. "... You know, you might just be the most polite drunk in human history. Saying ''please'' and ''thank you'', most folks treat people like that as if they were part of the furniture."

    "People aren''t furniture." I giggle, until I am suddenly struck with the mental image of Katarina and her priests making a Leather couch, producing yet another thing to try and keep as far from my mind as possible tonight. "Uhhh... In any case, surely history has some more polite drunks than me, right?"

    "I dunno, I''ve read a lot of books and I haven''t found evidence of any drunkards who were particularly polite about it." The woman grins, eyes regarding me curiously. "Ah, allow me to introduce myself. I am a historian for the Avernian Legacy Society. It''s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mademoiselle."

    "... Are historians even allowed to look this beautiful?" I feel like if I were sober there would be a chance that thought might have stayed entirely inside my head. "I mean, I thought that if you wrote books you had to wear old woolen jackets and smell like glue. Isn¡¯t that divine law or something?"

    "Hehehe! Looking to be the most charming drunk in history too, are you?" The historian''s beaming smile got a blush out of me... And yet, it doesn''t seem to reach her eyes. "I usually wear ''the uniform'', but sometimes I like being a girl too, you know. It''s how I unwind."

    "Not with drinks, but with dresses?"

    "Exactly. Being away from a world that asks a lot, letting myself be inconsequential for a minute. It''s peaceful." Her eyes haven''t left me since we began talking... It''s starting to make me feel a little self-conscious. "Just a girl for a minute, without anyone telling me how to be one, or how to be anything else for that matter."

    "... If only it was so simple. To be away from the world, I mean. Sometimes it feels like it''s determined to follow me wherever I go. Demanding things of me. Taking things from me."

    "You''d think it''d be a beautiful dream if you managed to escape, huh." This strikes a sad chord with the historian, while her smile doesn''t waver her eyes certainly do.

    And I''d really prefer to not ruin this woman''s night, maybe the whole world is too heavy a topic... "So ummm... What are you working on at the moment? I mean, you''re a historian, I presume you''re writing a book, or-"

    "Oh, I''m not the kind to get credited in academic works. Academia''s a little more wooly than you might think." She gestures a hand over her form, and I suddenly remember how unfair and stupid literally everything is. "I''m more a researcher than anything, pouring over old documents and finding old artifacts. And recently, I''ve been looking into anything and everything to do with a little thing called ''The Heart''."

    The Heart again. That accursed, awful... Atrocious Heart again! I wish I knew where it was so I could break it. I wish I even knew what it was so I knew how to break it! Our continent has turned into a Leather grove all over this stupid myth¡­

    The Historian tilts her head, and I realize I haven''t said anything. "I''ll take your silence as my cue to keep talking. Hehe, it''s quite a sad story that led us here actually, a bit of a tragedy from everything I''ve read. You see, The Heart is a gemstone, a nice shiny rock. And according to what the papers say, that was enough for the High King to entice half of La''an into invading us. It all seems a little silly on the face of it, doesn''t it?"

    A rock? ... I''ve killed thousands , tens of thousands... Because of a rock?! I want to slam my head against the desk, I want to strangle the Magyar Emperor, I want to drink more stupid dead grapes.

    "So many people are dead... Over a shiny stone? ... How are we all this stupid?!"

    The Historian gives a sad little chuckle, and reaches out to pat my head. "There there... We''ve always been this stupid. Wars are gigantic things, but the petty egos of kings and tyrants have often allowed them to have very small causes. Just ask the Trojans if Helen was really worth it in the end."

    "... What''s a Trojan?"

    "A punchline for historians and nothing more." And clearly a good one, going by The Historian''s amused little hum. "But in any case, this stone isn''t just a pretty pebble, far from it. The Heart is a special thing, one which can give whoever holds it the power of a witch. And a very special witch in particular... Jeanne the Magnificent."

    "How? How can a rock do that?!" I always believed that ''the science of magic'' was a ridiculous phrase, but this is just absurd, surely.

    "See, that''s the part of the story that most people don''t know. The tragic part." Her smile is gone now, The Historian tries to deliver the tale in as neutral a tone as possible. "You see, The Heart is named rather appropriately. It is not merely a stone, but the actual heart of Jeanne the Magnificent herself. Turned into a thing, an object... All for the sake of love."

    Love? ... I should be skeptical that love can turn a woman to stone, but... "... Go on."

    "I assume you know the tale of Jeanne the Magnificent, who united the nations of Western La''an and managed to force the Magyars out of Germany, established the Confederation of Princes, and then disappeared from the face of Lutice just as she seemed ready to crown herself Empress of a new Empire in the west, right?"

    "Of course, who doesn''t?"

    "Well, it''s the disappearance that this story explains. You see, Jeanne had caught the eye of a certain someone through her deeds, and with her witch''s power. The goddess Velvet herself, if you could believe it, came down from on high to meet Jeanne... And the Savior of La''an fell instantly in love."

    Velvet... Her Majesty mentioned something about this, in relation to the Gina Silk paintings, a human lover of Velvet. Is this it? Is Jeanne the lover those paintings mourned?

    "Now, Velvet was more than happy to accept Jeanne''s affections, so long as she was presented with the right gift. Jeanne offered her gold, fine art, land, horses, anything Velvet''s heart desired, so long as Velvet would be her queen... But Velvet had a different price in mind." There''s a pause as The Historian collects herself, enunciating the next few words carefully. "Velvet wanted Jeanne to give her heart to her. Only then would they be together forever."

    "Her heart... Her literal, actual heart?!"

    "Jeanne agreed, and Velvet carved the living heart out of Jeanne... And in Velvet''s hands it became a gemstone, one which still held Jeanne''s magic within it. Jeanne died, naturally, but some small part of her would live on still, as eternal as the gods themselves."

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ... I offered Her Majesty, my personal goddess, my life. I told her I would die for her... Would I do any different than this? ... If I wouldn''t then why does this idea upset me so much? Why does it seem so cruel, so utterly abhorrent, if I would have done the same?

    I can''t say for sure, but my mouth refuses to say nothing. "That... That is utterly terrible, Mademoiselle Historian!"

    "The worst part is that Velvet didn''t even keep it."

    "What?!"

    "She cast it away, hiding it somewhere in Avernia. You see, she never cared for Jeanne, she never wanted her heart. She simply wanted to prove it was possible to extract the powers of a witch. That way she and the other members of the Pentatheon could have their most loyal witches die for them, make them into good test subjects. Jeanne''s love and devotion amounted to nothing more than becoming a science experiment for an uncaring goddess."

    "I... Poor Jeanne! To have been so hurt, so betrayed by someone she loved..."

    The Historian raises an eyebrow, scrutinizing me closely. "It''s surprising you would say as much, Mademoiselle Pollineux. Most folks I imagine might say that she deserved it, she willingly gave up her heart and as such must face the consequences."

    "Well, most folks clearly have no hearts to give! ... Being in love is a scary, vulnerable thing. For it to be abused like that, for someone with a clear head to hurt the ones who don''t, for the one with power to exploit the one without... It''s evil!" I''m not even sure I''m making sense, but the words spill out regardless. "It''s so easy for love to hurt, even without deliberate exploitation!"

    "Hehe, don''t I know it..." The smile the Historian gives me is not as intense as her earlier charmed beams, and yet seems more present.

    "You can''t escape the world where these things happen. Because in the worlds beyond, these things happen still. Even the gods are cruel like the world is. And no matter where you are, the space around you wants to make you more cruel."

    "... It wants to make you a grown-up. Their kind of grown-up. A kind of grown-up I don''t think I can be."

    "And yet, you can''t just not grow up... But that only leaves one option, doesn''t it?"

    "An option? I can''t not grow up, but I can''t grow up like this. What option does that give?"

    "Simple. Be your kind of grown-up on your own terms, and force the world to change itself around you. That''s what I believe."

    "... Do you really think I can do that?"

    "Serena, I believe you can do anything."

    I must be blushing, my cheeks feel horribly warm, this can''t just be the wine... Is she trying to flirt with me?! I giggle. I try to stop myself from giggling, and I giggle more. Surely I must be making an utter idiot of myself, she¡¯s sharing a stupid sad story and here I am giggling because she said something nice about me... I really am broken.

    Well, she might just like broken people, because my stupid little laugh seems to genuinely endear me to her. "Hey, I''m being serious! I know you''ll make for a fantastic history to record one day. Mademoiselle Polite, Charming Drunk."

    "... Well, you needn''t just record it, you know."

    I suddenly feel very small... But admittedly I''m not used to being actively flirtatious. The closest I''ve come to being romantic is figuratively falling into place... Or occasionally literally. But this girl is pretty, and she looks nothing like Her Majesty and that might be healthy for me. Maybe I can hold off on dying for a little while longer. Just a little while perhaps¡­

    "Hehe, Serena-"

    "You could be... Part of it. If you wanted to be."

    She looks almost pained, even as she grins mischievously. "Trust me, you don''t want me in your story, mademoiselle. I''m not exactly known for causing happily ever afters."

    "Then this could be a first for you, right? You won''t scare me away that easily, Mademoiselle Historian. I''ve faced scarier things than a beautiful girl in a red dress."

    "... You certainly have..."

    "And besides... If I can change the world just by being the kind of grown-up I''d like to be, I think I''d be very happy to make it into a world that''s better for you too while I''m doing it."

    She looks genuinely touched, an emotion she buries with a chuckle, casting her eyes away from me to focus on my glass. "You''re drunk, Mademoiselle Pollineux. It would be wrong to accept your kindness. It would be taking advantage, don''t you agree?"

    "... I trust you."

    "Heheh..."

    Mademoiselle Historian slips free from her chair, takes a step towards me, and kisses me quickly. If I had blinked, I may not have even realized... And then she slips past me, giving a final little smile from over her shoulder as she leaves.

    "Live long enough to meet me again, Serena. Tell me a story next time."

    And then she¡¯s gone... And suddenly I feel more sober than I had when I was brought here. She was happy to see me, she¡¯s happy to perhaps see me again! She used my name... Wait, did I ever tell her my name? ... I mean, she might have read it in some newspaper somewhere, but even so, something feels odd¡­

    She didn''t tell me her name either, come to think of it... "Excuse me, Bartender? That woman who just left, the one in the pretty red dress, did you get her name?"

    The Bartender gives an utterly incredulous look, clearly very confused. "Mademoiselle... You were speaking with a young gentleman, weren''t you?"

    "I... No, she was definitely a-"

    "Admittedly he did look remarkably good in that red dress of his, but he was a gentleman. He told me that himself in fact."

    I blink, hadn''t she talked about liking being a girl? This is confusing; she was so clearly... Wasn''t she? ... I''ve drunk too much, I''m clearly getting confused, I''ll ask them about it when I live and see them again. When I change the world.

    I slip out of my chair, and magically I even stay on my feet. Not a bad start I think, maybe I can even get home like this. I step, I step, I realize I am counting my steps as each one is a conscious effort. But it''s fine. I''ll wake up tomorrow. I just have to get out of here. I just have to walk the streets of Alesia exactly one time without the entire world being stood on its head.

    I make my way back home- back to the Rosierte''s home. I know I don''t deserve it, but maybe they might still let me stay for my last night in Alesia before my deployment tomorrow... Weird, their third story window is open. I guess it''ll be nice and cool up there, that''s convenient. I stumble up to the door, and struggle with the doorknob for a moment. The door opens, but not because of me.

    "Serena?" It''s Celeste, standing in the doorway... I feel like I''ve somehow found new ways to be unworthy of her, appearing before her like this. "Are you okay?"

    I try to stand tall and dignified. I fall into her, and I wonder for a moment if I''m about to weep. She hooks her arms under my shoulders and drags me into the house, kicking the door closed behind her. I don''t deserve her. I don''t deserve to be held up like this. Not after-

    She drops me onto a small couch, seating herself beside me. Auguste, who had been sitting by the fire, is suddenly on his feet, looking around for the first aid kit.

    "Is she hurt again?"

    "Well, she hasn''t been shot... She needs water. And maybe something to soak up whatever she''s been drinking."

    "Right!"

    Auguste heads to the kitchen with some amount of urgency. I guess I''ve caused them all enough panic in the past that they treat everything to do with me urgently, even if it''s something as simple as bringing me some water.

    Celeste takes my hand in hers as we sit together, and to my shame I cannot bring myself to run away. "Serena, what happened? You look like you''ve been crying, and you''ve definitely been drinking..."

    ... I know she''d understand... I don''t deserve to be understood. Not by anyone but especially not by her. I deserve nothing less than to be thrown onto the streets, where I can finally be punished for my shamelessness.

    "Serena, please say something... I''m worried about you." Celeste sidles in a little closer, why is she still so kind to me? "... You can talk to me. Please."

    ... Whatever her reasons, whatever''s making her want to help me, my guilt simply isn''t strong enough to keep me in check any longer. I cry. I feel as if I might fall into her and cry forever.

    "Her Majesty... The Queen... She... She threw me away!" My eyes are burning, all that stability that the Historian had given me was just enough to bring me to this moment, and now I am breaking apart again. "After everything I''ve done, I... I know I don''t deserve her but... But it hurts! It hurts so much!"

    Celeste wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me towards her, something I can''t even begin to resist. "She hurt you... Serena, you think so little of yourself, of what you are worth. I honestly think she''s the one who doesn''t deserve you. And if I ever meet her in person I''ll tell her so!"

    In between my drunken stupor and ugly crying I can barely get any words out, but some words refuse to go unsaid. "... I don''t deserve you either. I never did, but after what I''ve done to you-"

    "Serena..."

    Celeste strokes my hair, squeezing me closely. I can smell her; she smells as lovely as always. And I think I finally realize the reason she is so utterly irresistible to me. She was never anything like Her Majesty, but she is so much like Katje. She is a beautiful, wonderful woman, who is entirely human. Entirely there¡­

    And somehow still willing to talk to me. "I will admit, it was a bit of a shock. But you were bleeding, and delirious, and these things happen! I don''t blame you, I''m not upset! ... And honestly... Had I another life, one where I met you before Auguste. I think we might have been something..."

    ... I stop crying. I stop crying out of sheer confusion. Surely she couldn''t, she didn''t... Was she even...?

    Before I can get too far inside my own head Auguste returns with bread, cheese, and a large pitcher of water. Celeste, with her usual gentle smile, prepares me a morsel, and offers it to me from her hand. And in my now completely perplexed state I accept it... She takes a morsel herself, as does Auguste, both with a smile. I''m honestly thankful, it would be strange to eat it all myself... It might be a far cry from my first dinner at the Rosierte household but... We are eating together again. Here at the end... Oh gods, I get sent to the front again tomorrow.

    We finish our little meal in silence, and Celeste helps me to my feet. "You should probably get some rest. I hear Alesia''s gotten tired of trying to kill you and wants to let Samnia have a go."

    I give her a little affirmative nod, I''m not sure what else to say.

    "Then I guess we''re leaving you in their hands. Pasche and Xena and Katarina... They''d best keep you safe, or they''ll never be invited to our table again." Auguste gives a little chuckle, patting me on the back tenderly. "... And you keep yourself safe too, okay?"

    "R... Right... It''s a promise."

    "Very good. Now, do you need my help with the stairs?"

    "No, I think I can manage it." I begin to make my way to them, before turning to face Auguste and Celeste. I think I might be smiling despite everything. "Thank you. For offering me your home and... Making me feel at home. I could not possibly begin to repay this kindness, but I will try every way I can. I promise."

    They say nothing to that. There''s nothing to really be said. It''s not quite goodbye, but we can all see it from here. I make my way up the stairs, open the door to my room, slip inside, close the door, lock it...

    And hear a very familiar voice coming from my bed.

    "Good evening, Sir Serena."

 Bonus Chapter Two

    I sit, curled up in my little secret room, as if the world can''t find me here. That rude friend of Serena''s was right, this is a ridiculous place for a hideaway. It''s bound to be stumbled across by anyone putting in the effort to try and find it! It¡¯s a ridiculous concept even, stashing things for a get-away in case I might need them. I don''t even know how to use the medical kit, or the carbine on the wall.

    The only thing in here of any use to me is that fucking painting, and I don''t even like it! ... Really, the only valuable thing that has ever been in here was Serena. And I just sent her away, didn''t I?

    My poor, enchanted Serena. She speaks so highly of me, of my little smiles and visits, of my kindness and my visage''s presence in her dorm room. She speaks as if I did this to support her, to help her. It''s where her naive sincerity begins to really sting, where she doesn''t realize why I did these things. To make her emotionally depend upon me. To make her serve me. To make her worship me...

    If the Comrade Witches had their full four years of training, if they were subject to my manipulations for the entire period, would they all be as devoted to me as dear Serena is? Somehow, I doubt it.

    She''s too kind not to be exploited. She''s too honest not to be lied to. She''s too loveable to not love others in turn. She''s broken. She''s not made for this world... Much like me, perhaps, but the difference is that she doesn''t try to force it. She is willing to do the most ''Serena'' things for the people she cares about. I truly believe she would have killed everyone in Alesia to keep me safe had she the ability. I really did turn her into a monster. Someone so beautiful, so earnest, so worthy of love and happiness, and I made her into a monster.

    "And I couldn''t stop her kissing me."

    I knew the entire time, of course, of the amorous and salacious nature of her devotion to me. But somehow, her acting on it had been a surprise to me. And... My reciprocation was another. I didn''t even know I felt that way about women! Maybe I don''t and it''s simply Serena that excites me, but it might explain some things in retrospect. Phillip and I''s eternally distressing marriage for a start... I really don''t know much about myself, do I? Ever since I came to this gods-forsaken country and became its gods-forsaken Queen, my life has been one long series of disappointments and aggressions. There hasn''t been time to be myself, or even to figure out who that person is.

    Not that my home in the Carpathian Basin treated me much kinder. I was trained to be sold off to some important man someday, and then I was. And was then instructed to find and steal The Heart while I was here... My life amounts to a dead husband I don''t care to mourn, two children that are being torn from me by the state, and one out of three of these stupid fucking paintings.

    "If I had run away with her, would that have been the most alive I''d ever been?"

    We wouldn''t have made it far. I doubt we''d make it to the next town over, let alone to Burdigala. To my shame I regret not allowing her to throw her life away just to let me have a glimpse of a life for myself. I really am a shameless, horrible woman. Perhaps a Grove of Steel is what I deserve. Both for brainwashing her like this, and for breaking her heart after.

    "... She has other friends. She has whoever that Renee person is. I think she''ll be okay."

    "I wouldn''t be so sure about that, ''Your Majesty''."

    A voice?! I scramble to my feet and find a young blonde woman dressed for an Icenian opera casually standing outside my window, as if there wasn''t a 20 foot drop directly outside it... A secret room with a window really was the stupidest of ideas, which I guess tells me one thing I can definitively say about myself.

    The woman opens the window from the outside and steps into my secret room, giving me something of a mocking smile, before giving that fucking painting a look. "So this is where you''ve been hiding. If I''d only known a week ago."

    I scramble for the carbine. Whoever... Whatever this person is, I cannot allow her near that painting! I always keep it loaded, I''m not even sure I can reload it if my first shot misses. But at this distance, surely even someone as useless as I can point and shoot.

    The figure doesn''t look in any way fazed by the gun in her face, giving a bored yawn. "I had thought we could get past the pageantry, but if you think this little bit of theater will in some way help then please, pull the trigger."

    I do so, and am almost deafened by the sound of the powder striking. My shoulder feels sore from the recoil, and my heart is racing... And the ball is now floating in the air between the figure and I. Even with as little as I know about guns, I am fairly certain that this is not meant to happen.

    The figure casually plucks the shot from the air, dropping it on the floor with a bored expression. "One day I would like to meet someone who doesn''t break the ice with a lead ball. But I''ll be waiting a while longer, it seems."

    "W- Who are you?!" This... This can''t be real, right?

    "Well, that¡¯s a slightly more polite welcome. I''m Rivauld, supervillain extraordinaire. And I''ve come to help you in your darkest hour." She gives a little bow, and a flourish with her top hat. "I figure you might need it, given you''ve broken the heart of the only other person in this city that would ever help you."

    "How... How do you know about that?!"

    "She''s a wonderful kisser, isn''t she, Katje?"

    I throw the carbine at the figure. I barely even realize I''ve done so until I see it floating in mid-air in the space between the blonde woman and I. Guns surely aren''t meant to work this way! The blonde figure grabs the floating firearm and throws it out the window, where I swear it skips across something invisible before finally falling. This... This isn''t fair!

    The blonde figure... Rivauld simply shakes her head. "If this is how you treat people trying to help you then it''s no wonder you have so few allies."

    "Don''t talk about Serena!" I''m tempted to throw a punch next, but I don''t know if whatever is happening to physical reality will abide that. "You know nothing about Serena! Whatever twisted scheme you have in mind-"

    "I''m trying to help her too, you know! You left her in quite the state after your little rejection. If I hadn''t intervened, she may well have drunk herself to death."

    She said she couldn''t live without me, didn''t she? "... She has a life to lead outside of me. People she can love for real, rather than the fake, devotional love I filled her head with. I don''t deserve her, and she deserves so much better than me-"

    "Oh fuck off with that." Rivauld gives me a glare, as if I''d somehow offended the intruder in my home. "Take some fucking responsibility."

    "I... I am! I''m letting her go, even though I don''t want to-"

    "You''re saddling her with the heartbreak of your choices. You''re leaving her to deal with it alone, without you. And to what end? For you to die alone, unloved, under the jeers of a mob of psychopaths? Come on, your Serena deserves better than that, surely."

    I swallow audibly. Who does this woman think she is, coming in here and... And demanding that I... What, that I just keep Serena? That I let her die for me with a smile on her lips and love in her heart? That I take her entire world away?

    "And that''s why I''m here. With a better way. One that allows you to take responsibility for the terrible things you''ve done, and live. And live with Serena at that! A win for everyone. Well, everyone except everyone else in the world, but you don''t care, and I consider that just another win for me."

    I blink. A way out of all this? One where Serena will be safe, one where I don''t have to die? ... One where I might even live with her? One where those sick freaks in Alesia get what''s coming to them, and can never threaten us again? It sounds like a dream¡­

    "... I can''t possibly deserve that. Not after what I''ve done-"

    "Who gives a fuck what you deserve?!" Rivauld pinches her nose, clearly impatient with me. "You groomed a teenager! You deserve to be dropped into a vat of God''s Fire, to scream until your lungs melt and your body burns away to nothing! But that won''t do Serena, or the world, any good, now will it?!"

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "I... Surely that''s not quite what it was-"

    "Maybe you weren''t quite intending the exact kind of devotion that you got, but you still acted to make it happen. And not just on her! You are a villain, Katje. Not even a supervillain like me, just a regular old villain!" She takes a step toward me, her eyes seemingly piercing through my very soul. "No god will forgive you for what you''ve done, just because you do ''the right thing'' now."

    I step backward, up against the wall of my secret hideaway... Oh gods, Serena pressed me right up against the walls of my chamber, didn''t she? I let her, didn''t I? I wanted it, I craved it... And so did she, because of my conditioning. Why does being bad have to feel so right?

    ... And why does this woman want me to do bad so badly? "... If, hypothetically, I accepted your help... What would it entail? What are you planning?"

    This finally breaks the endless disapproval of the blonde figure, who produces a pair of rolled up paintings from her opera cloak. "I am planning to give you The Heart, of course. Not your masters in the East, but you specifically."

    "You were the one hunting down these paintings? ... You almost got Serena killed! Multiple times!"

    "And she is why I didn''t have you drugged, beaten, and made the victim of a fake political assassination, yes. But that was then, this is now! And I have a much better plan than I had before."

    "What plan?! What could justify all this?!"

    "Simple. The instrumentalization of the entire world." She takes another step forward, almost pinning me against the wall, still offering the paintings. "They''ll never try to hurt you, try to separate you and Serena again, if they''re all your puppets, right?"

    I swallow. World domination. This blonde stranger is actually suggesting world domination! This woman who hurt Serena so badly, who almost had me tortured and killed, is suddenly floating the idea of actual, literal world domination! ... Supervillain is right, this sounds like a plot from one of my daughter''s silly little fairy tales, something an evil wizard would come up with!

    "... And why give it to me? Why not take it over yourself?"

    "Because I have no desire to rule this world. I have business elsewhere."

    "Then why do you even care?!"

    "Revenge." She speaks simply, it¡¯s impossible to think she isn''t being entirely honest. "I am going to end the world as we know it to rub spit in the eyes of the Gods."

    "... That... That can''t possibly be it?!" I feel like I''m trying to convince myself more than anyone else.

    "If you''re truly so distrustful, surely you could just read my mind and know for certain. Right?"

    How did... "How did you know-"

    " ''I know what you''re thinking'', ''I know what you''re thinking''. If you were any easier to read, you''d be a text prompt."

    "A what?"

    "Don''t worry your pretty little head about it, Katje. Worry your pretty little head with nothing more than ruling the world. And getting the girl at the end."

    I feel like I''m being goaded... But I want to know- I have to know what''s going on inside her head. How can someone have a grudge against an entire planet? How can someone be in such personal conflicts with the actual gods?! I take a deep breath, I fixate on Rivauld, and I snatch just a little piece of her mind, a seed to replicate her brain and search it for whatever information is relevant.

    I fall immediately to my knees before her, screaming.

    Plush altars in white rooms filled with knives. An empty black void containing an ever-dwindling number of struggling specks of light. Cotton themself, a mortal person, with a smile on their lips and a needle in their hand. An endless sea of melted life below a forever burning sky. A million worlds with a million million starving peasants, cheering for the bones of a small child, which sit upon an ivory throne and are covered in gold finery. A ship, a vessel, sailing through the endless abyss, ready to burn another world to glass, to melt another billion people at the order of ''The Undying Regent''.

    I slam my head against the floor again and again and again, desperate to be free of these things. I can''t take it, I can''t hold onto this knowledge, a world of worlds governed by death and insanity. The entire universe is but a playground for the most wicked evils imaginable, with Lutice being the saddest miracle in all existence. At least here we are spared the sight of this unfathomable cruelty endlessly writhing above us.

    "Yeah, it''s a lot to take in, admittedly." Rivauld leans forward, patting my head. "But you get used to it. Well, you develop the right coping mechanisms."

    "You... The Gods..."

    "You can see why I have no love for them. And what better way to mess with them than to ruin their little experiment, destroy their little petri dish. That is what I want from you, Katje. That is what I want from you and Serena."

    "I... She... She can''t ever know about this. This world of worlds above our heads, she can''t ever know-"

    "She won''t. Her knowing is not important to my plan, all we need for it to work is for her to trust you again. And for you to acquire The Heart." She presses the paintings against me again... And I accept them.

    "That part might be tricky-"

    "Your husband''s ''performance'' during his sacrifice has turned public sentiment against The Convention. You can leverage that, maybe provoke a mutiny in the name of your son. If you move quickly and decipher the paintings in time, you could get royalists in the Avernian Army to deliver The Heart to you before The Convention can react. From there you simply have to cast the spell. Well, you and Serena do."

    "That... Sounds risky."

    "Katje, you were never going to find The Heart on your own, even if you didn''t have me opposing you. You''re simply too cautious! Move fast, break things, there''s no other way to get what you want out of a world like this."

    "Right... And this spell. Doesn''t it only instrumentalize one person at a time? Surely it would be impossible to get the entire world under that power, even if I was at it for an entire lifetime!"

    "See, that''s a thing about Hearts that no one knows. No one but the Gods, and me." She''s giggling, this Rivauld person seems to enjoy knowing things that other people don''t. "You see, The Heart may allow anyone to use the magic of the witch who died to produce it, but something interesting happens when another witch uses one. Its power increases immensely. Two hearts beating as one are simply far more powerful than a single heart alone. You, holding this Heart, your heart and it beating together? You''ll be instrumentalizing thousands of people at a time, enough to dominate Alesia in short order."

    "Thousands... But, Lutice must have millions, maybe even billions of people upon it! That''s still just a drop in the bucket!"

    "That''s where Serena comes in, Katje. Two hearts are better than one, and this, to me, implies something. That three hearts beating as one would be better than two. If the increase of power is exponential then surely it''s possible that the two of you holding The Heart could instrumentalize millions at a time!" Her eyes shine with the possibility of making the entire world bow to my and Serena''s whims in a matter of weeks. "You can make the whole world celebrate your love, have them all serve you hand and foot. You can use the politicians of The Convention as furniture, or even kindling if you so desire. You can leave an eternal empire of peace and prosperity behind for your children, and your children''s children. Surely that''s a world worthy of your Serena, right? Surely that''s a world that will fulfill your desires."

    ... She''s right, isn''t she? This is the only way I can make Serena happy, that I can give her what she wants. Maybe I decided for her what she wants, but that doesn''t change the fact that I want to... No, that I must give it to her! What we have must be more intense, more important than what she has with her little friends. Surely she deserves to be had by me, and only me!

    And in a world of worlds that produces nothing but evil, my ruling this world is a lesser, excusable evil, right? A better person than me would die alone, killed by a violent mob she''s never even known, let alone wronged. So why be a better person?!

    I stand. I smile. I offer my hand to Rivauld to shake.

    "I think I might be grateful to you, Mademoiselle Rivauld."

    "Heh, first time I''ve ever heard that." She considers my extended hand, before deciding to not shake it. "Let''s not imply we''re partners in this. Everything I''ve given to you, the power to instrumentalize the world... All this is me making you into my very own instrument, you know."

    "Well... Fuck you then." I can''t help but smile, perhaps this is who I¡¯ve always been, the person I never got to discover I am until now. "I suggest you get off of Serena and I''s world in that case. Or you might get caught in our spell."

    "I have created a monster." Rivauld cackles, I think she might finally respect me... A little bit. "I''ve created a monster for Serena.¡±

    The figure takes a step back, gives another bow, and leaves via the open window. Standing again on air, she opens a door in the empty space in front of her, revealing a white interior, a room I can''t even begin to understand. She gives me a wave, slips inside, closes the door, and the space is completely empty again. She''s gone entirely... If the other two paintings weren''t left behind I''d be convinced that this didn''t happen at all, that my sick and twisted mind simply invented a fantasy to appeal to it. But this is real. This is unstoppably, undeniably real.

    "... This is really going to happen."

    I''m grinning. I''m grinning from ear to ear. It hurts, but I can¡¯t stop. I''ll have Serena, I''ll have an entire world. I''ll become a monster so she needn''t be one for me any longer. She''ll forgive me, won''t she, for foolishly pushing her away? ... She''ll kiss me again, won''t she? ... She''ll touch me again, won''t she?

    I laugh, unable to stop, my sudden and overwhelming mirth cannot be contained. It must be expressed. I''m just so happy! ... I''m just so warm¡­

    What are my hands doing?

 Chapter Forty One

    I blink. I rub my eyes. And Theophania is still sitting on my bed, looking up at me with loving, but increasingly confused eyes. As if I¡¯m the odd one here, when I am merely drunk for the first time in my life and barely holding myself together.

    "Umm, Sir Serena... Is everything okay?" Theophania''s eyes carry her concern, but can''t hide the feeling of ''opportunity''. "Is there something your Princess Theophania can help you with?"

    "Why are... Why are you on my bed?"

    "Oh! Well..." Theophania''s smile has a nervous quality about it, her eyes quickly find the floor. "The Palace just doesn''t feel especially safe anymore. Not after what happened in the Glass Garden, and... With the arrest of my Dad. There aren''t that many guards left, and everyone hates us more than ever. It wouldn''t be hard to just... Y''know... Again."

    She has a point, the Palace has proven woefully ineffective in keeping its occupants safe from the people of Avernia... Or from me. So perhaps it makes sense for her to be anywhere except there, at least then she won''t be found as easily... Her Majesty will be found without me, she¡¯s at risk... If I squint, Theophania looks exactly like Her Majesty. I can almost pretend she really has come with me, that I really can keep her safe... I make every effort not to squint.

    "So I came to you!" There¡¯s a desperation behind Theophania''s voice, like she¡¯s papering over something with fantasy. "Since you always keep me safe! You always come to the rescue, you always protect me. If I can''t be at home then I should be with you, right? My brave and noble knight?"

    It... Also makes sense. Constant and distressing blasphemy aside, I have saved this woman twice, and she clearly trusts me with a third time. And a fourth. And a fifth, and a sixth, and something tells me there will be a lot of rescuing in our shared future. And I swore an oath.. One I''d like to keep, but-

    "Sir Serena... Please say something..."

    I''m lost in thought again. I wonder if the alcohol makes that worse somehow. It makes all of my other problems worse, it makes sense that it would make this one worse too-

    I shake my head to get off of this new tangent, I need to say something! "Uh... Umm... How did you get on my bed?"

    She looks up, beaming rather proudly. "Oh, this? I just wore my most modest dress, put on a shawl to hide my hair, and wandered the streets pretending to be a commoner! From there I asked a nearby painter to loan me their ladder. He was skeptical, until I told him it was for love!"

    Theophania gestures to the humble, checker-patterned shawl on the ground, and it slowly dawns on me that she isn''t dressed like a princess at all. She''s dressed like... Anyone. She''s dressed normally. And my useless drunk self didn''t even notice! ... I¡¯m too focused on the parts that look like Her Majesty. Too focused on Katje... I slap myself. I can¡¯t be thinking about this now! Theophania looks dreadfully confused...

    But I manage to allay her concerns with a smile. "That was very clever of you, Princess Theophania... But, why was it necessary to greet me unannounced, in my bedroom?"

    "To make it more romantic! ... And because I didn''t want to ask the Rosiertes for permission. I don''t think they like me."

    "That might be true... But, they like me well enough that they''d probably put up with you visiting... I think."

    "They''re with The Convention. I don''t know if I can really trust people like that. Especially now-"

    "They''re good people!" ... Good people who might get dragged through the mud for harboring a princess, good people who got in enough trouble trying to house a wayward General. "... But you may have made the correct call regardless. The Convention doesn''t treat them well either."

    "... Why not?"

    "Because they''re trying to make The Convention better..."

    There''s a moment of silence for a while. Princess Theophania clearly didn''t come to speak politics, and I don''t precisely have the brain for it, even when I¡¯m sober. It¡¯s awkward for a moment... Before Princess Theophania leans forward, grabs my hand, and pulls me onto the bed beside her. I am very pliable... And very loud, squealing as I fall forward onto the soft mattress, and producing a smaller yelp once I realize that Theophania put my head on her lap.

    "Hehe, I''ve never read a story about a knight who makes noises like that." She''s giggling, she''s patting my head... She''s running her thumb over the back of my hand, not letting go. "I feel like I''ve been missing out."

    "I guess most authors are cowards." I adjust myself in my princess'' lap, speaking into her thighs both isn''t very effective and is honestly more than a little... Awkward. "Maybe you should write your own one day."

    "I uhhh... I''ve actually been working on a little something like that, but-"

    There''s a sharp knock on the door, and Auguste''s voice comes muffled from the other side. "Serena?! I heard a scream! Is everything okay?"

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.I audibly swallow. How do I even begin to explain this?! I can''t lie to save my life, and I sure as hell can''t tell the truth! I''m trapped. Oh gods, I''m trapped, and Princess Theophania is going to be caught, and another beautiful woman I love is going to die and-

    "Ah! Sorry! I may''ve gone a little overboard with your girl here!" Princess Theophania... Is putting on the most absurd ''poverty'' voice I have ever heard. "Uhhh, you probably don''t wanna come in, mister... Sir."

    I can almost hear Auguste blinking on the other end of the door, shocked into inaction. "... Se- Serena. Are you okay?"

    I nod, and then realize he can''t see that and I have to use my words. "I... I''m fine! I''m ummm... I''m very okay?"

    "... I see... Have a good night then, Serena."

    I hear footsteps heading away from the door, which quickly disappear as Auguste heads downstairs. And Theophania giggles, pulling me up and falling backwards herself, pulling me atop her. "Hehe, didn''t expect me to be able to do voices, did you? I''m a princess of many talents."

    That was admittedly a surprise, but I must confess I¡¯m more focused on my body draped over hers... And the dawning implications of her cover story. "You certainly are... That was-"

    "Pretty good, right? See, I''m sure I can stay! I just have to keep pretending!" She squeezes my hand, she still hasn''t let go. "Of course, I won''t stop being your princess just because I''m pretending to be a commoner. Princesses pretending to be commoners is actually a rich tradition in the writing of fairy tales! It''s often used to let a princess slip away from the obligations of the royal court, so they can have liaisons with their knight. I think the best example of this actually might be-"

    Theophania goes off on a breathless tirade, talking about some tale of heroism that is clearly dear to her. A simple, easy, not-at-all-complicated tale. One so very unlike our little... ''Courtship''. Oh gods, I''ve not only hurt Her Majesty, blasphemed against her... I''m doing the same to her daughter too. I almost wish I could go away, just disappear and stop hurting everyone with my shameful mistakes.

    ... I''m being sent to Samnia tomorrow, aren''t I? Surely that fulfills all my ''almost'' wishes... But somehow, the prospect of leaving Theophania to the people of Avernia feels too sad a possibility to bear.

    I... I want to take her with me. Even if it''s the wrong thing to do. Even if it makes me a bad person, I don''t want to leave her alone.

    "And then she kisses her princess- Sorry, ''he'' kisses her princess'' hand, and-"

    "Theophania..." Damnit, I forgot the proper term of address. "Princess Theophania... I''m being sent to Samnia tomorrow."

    This stops Theophania in her tracks... Her heart is beating so much faster now, I''ve gone and spooked the girl. "You''re leaving? You''re going to leave me again?"

    If I were a good person, I would... "I can''t take the Princess of Avernia with me to an actual warzone. The Convention wouldn''t allow it, and High Command is practically in their pocket now..."

    Princess Theophania looks like she''s just been stabbed... She looks like Her Majesty, pushing me away from her, unable to maintain her stern expression... I can''t stand this. I can''t bear this. I can''t bear making a woman this beautiful so sad again! I don''t care if it makes me bad, I have to make her happy again somehow. I have to make this sadness stop!

    ... I have an incredibly stupid idea. "... But... I could bring a staff member, someone who works for me. I could... Bring a friend."

    Something about the word ''friend'' seems to cause her a sting, before she realizes what I''m saying "Wait... You mean, you''d take me to Samnia with you? In disguise... So you can keep me safe!"

    Her sudden switch to enthusiasm has me on the backfoot again, and leaves me wondering if this beautiful woman has a few important screws loose. "Well, as safe as you can be on a battlefield... I''d just need to find something for you to pretend to be for me. Some job you could do!"

    "Ah..." She seems lost for a minute, before giving an utterly unconvincing smile. "I''ll... I''ll do anything you think I can do, Sir Serena!"

    I feel almost bad, consigning this woman to some dull military function. To valet service, or whatever else I could find for her. They seem like tasks unbecoming of a princess, especially a story-obsessed princess- Wait.

    "Publicist." I''m smiling, I think I''ve discovered something perfect. "You will accompany me to Samnia, as my publicist."

    "... Why does a general need a publicist?"

    "Because other generals have three, and the world is a very stupid place." One which appreciates vanity more than it does bravery... "And because I need you."

    "You... You need me?"

    "Princess, I can''t tell a lie to save my life. I can''t write a story, I can''t spin a tale. But you... You''ve read all the tales. You seem to know how they work! And... Well..."

    "I can lie?"

    "You lied to Auguste less than five minutes ago! And he bought it well enough! As someone who struggles with it so much, your ability is nothing short of miraculous!"

    "We- Well..." Is she blushing? "I... I mean, if you really do need me then..."

    "Then it''s settled!"

    I hold Theophania tightly, I just can''t help it! Maybe I''m a bad girl, maybe I''m doing a bad thing, but I can save at least one of the people I made an oath to! ... I failed Her Majesty, I am a failure... But at least I can do this for her daughter. For my princess... Who looks just like her. And will now be in close proximity for an entire military campaign... I think I may have just built the perfect mechanism to poke my bleeding wounds forever. Why am I such an idiot? ... Why is loving others just so hard?

    Princess Theophania is determined to make it harder, leaning up and kissing me. She''s getting better at it. She''s still not great, she''s clumsy and overly enthusiastic, but she''s getting better. At least I don''t have a tongue trying to pierce my throat this time. I close my eyes, I can''t look at her kissing me and not think about Her Majesty... Only, closing my eyes only makes things worse. I''m focused on her scent, on the wonderful feeling of being pressed against her, on her warmth... Disgraceful... I need to stop this.

    Only, my limbs are very comfortable not doing anything. And, my eyes are very comfortable remaining closed. And, my mouth is very comfortable not trying to speak. And my head is very comfortable not thinking about this anymore.

    "Sir Serena?" I can barely hear her, she''s as close as she could be and yet she sounds so distant. "... She looks so cute when she''s sleeping.

 Chapter Forty Two

    I''m awake. Sort of? My eyes refuse to open, content to simply not be in my possession. My entire body feels a little like my blood has ceased to move, that it has all found its spot in my veins and is staying there. My head feels ever so slightly like it''s in a lion''s mouth, not being chewed upon but simply being compressed. And something in my stomach has apparently died. Did I die? I had been aiming for it with my drinking, maybe this is what being dead feels like.

    Only... It feels warm. Warm, soft, and beautiful. What I am resting on is more beautiful than any bed could ever be. Surely it cannot be the product of hell, which is where I am certainly destined to go, right? I of all people cannot have found my way to Paradise, even if this wonderful thing I lay upon suggests I have. The five gods decide who goes to Paradise, and I''ve found a way to earn the ire of six of them... It seems almost a little unfair, now that I''m considering it, that the gods decide your soul''s eternal afterlife. Surely it gives them an unreasonable amount of power if they can poison the very concept of forever if you don''t conform to their standards, their normal... I never really gave these questions any thought before. But somehow, the possibility of a good afterlife has brought them to me. Strange that. This warm, soft, beautiful something has me very concerned about the prospect of eternity. This warm, soft, giggling something- Giggling?

    My eyes shoot open, still not quite my own but at least in agreement with me. Beds don''t giggle, Paradise doesn''t giggle... Presumably. I catch a glimpse of the divine thing upon which I lay, and I find that it''s Theophania. I appear to have fallen asleep with my head nestled onto her chest. And she appears to be as happy waking up to it as I am utterly enchanted. I feel a hand stroking my hair, I can almost taste Theophania''s smile... I can almost taste Her Majesty in Theophania''s smile.

    "Good morning, Sir Serena. Hehe, did you sleep well?"

    I try to scramble up to give Princess Theophania space, and to escape from that twisted, jagged nostalgia... Only, my limbs are not up to the task of freeing me from this wonderful comfort. The best they manage is a dull and ridiculous flailing before finding their way to Theophania''s sides. Forcing myself to leave her alone clearly isn''t working¡­

    Maybe I could convince her to remove my head from her chest. "I... I did. Did you sleep well?"

    My tongue is a little clumsy, but I¡¯m able to speak coherently enough. I imagine I''m likely alive, I would prefer not to think that Princess Theophania died with me somehow and we ended up in eternity together. So this feeling, this weakened, unpleasant feeling coursing through me... What is that? Some reaction to the alcohol? ... Is it just how it feels to be cast aside by Her Majesty? Does it poison me so?

    "I slept perfectly, Sir Serena. Hehe, you helped make sure of that." A lyrical little giggle, Theophania sounds so very much like Her Majesty at her most radiant. "Having my knight close at hand, I knew full well that I would be safe."

    "She... Your knight was also selfishly laying atop you, surely that wasn''t especially comfortable-"

    "Oh it was very comfortable." She''s blushing, though I can''t help but read something a little sharp in her voice. "Remarkably comfortable. Honestly she could stand to be a little more selfish."

    I audibly swallow, this isn''t good. I¡¯m blushing now, and more to the point I am not in any way being moved off of Princess Theophania. I¡¯m trapped with her softness, her warmth, her beauty... Her scent... All so very similar to Her Majesty''s. It hurts. I can''t tolerate this desire, I cannot abide my horrible projection of my sinful want for Her Majesty onto her daughter. It isn''t fair. It isn''t fair to want her.

    "You know, we have time this morning, my knight." Princess Theophania shifts subtly underneath me, and I can feel every single motion. "Time in which you could be a little more selfish."

    ... There is no one left that I can pray to. How am I going to escape this? I want to kiss and bite and touch and sin against the girl beneath me, and no god will forgive me for it. No god will deliver me from it. Please... Someone... Help-

    "Serena! Breakfast is ready!"

    I love Celeste. I truly do... I feel like we spoke about something very important last night, something that makes this admission cut a little deeper than it otherwise would, but at least I can get through the morning without hurting someone again. I''ve been rescued from my very own princess.

    "Oh! And Serena''s friend? You''re free to join us too." Was that... Bitterness? "If you want. You''re not obligated to."

    Theophania for her part looks disappointed, boldly craving something as bad for her as I am. What has to happen to a person to make my sinful, disgusting self an appealing option to them? Where my selfishness becomes desirable? ... Where they want me to hurt them. In any case, Theophania reluctantly removes herself from beneath me, straightens out her clothes, and put on her shawl.

    "I think we shouldn''t leave them waiting, Sir Serena... Ah! Just so you know, I''ll be pretending to just be some girl you know, so I won''t be calling you by the proper term. I''m sorry about that, it''s just part of the disguise!"

    She genuinely does seem remorseful, like she''s done me a great disservice by briefly not calling me by her nickname for me. Oh no, it''s adorable and I want to be reassuring. Why must trying to do the right thing make people so upset? ... Surely being a little kind won''t be too unhealthy for her, right?

    I roll my way out of bed, and find that I am able to rely on my legs for the most part. I feel a little shaky, but I''ve done more difficult things in the past, I can do this. My arms appear to be up to the task of gently brushing a thumb over her cheek, and my mouth is still able to smile somehow.

    "I understand, Princess Theophania... I still know what''s in your heart."

    That melting blush and languid smile makes me think I may have overdone it. I guess there really is time for my selfishness this morning, every inch I give myself turns into a mile. And every mile I take makes Theophania beam... She''s going to run away from home, from the biggest and most significant home in Avernia, just to be with me. And I can''t even say no, because it''s this or be at the mercy of the mob. I sincerely hope my very existence isn''t the thing that invites conflict, otherwise I am the one who has condemned Princess Theophania to having no other options¡­

    Theophania gently kisses my thumb, a very odd thing to do that doesn''t seem to read to her as in any way unusual. "We''d best get down then. Right, Serena?"

    "Yeah... Let''s."

    It¡¯s a very odd thing to do, but it¡¯s one that sets my heart aflutter. Because I am an incredibly odd girl, and I simply cannot have normal reactions to things. Theophania takes my hand. I feel the need to try and spare her from it, but I am still a little unsteady on my legs. It simply will not do to fall down the stairs now, so I need her hand. Theophania leads me down the stairs, mumbling nonsense to herself the entire journey, making some rather odd breaths... What is happening?

    She at least makes sure to stop this bizarre behavior before Auguste and Celeste see her, the two of them sitting together at their end of the table. No newspaper, simply holding hands and waiting for us... Celeste gestures to the seat next to her with a smile, clearly inviting me to be ''part of the family'' one last time. I comply, and Theophania takes the seat next to me...

    Wait, what am I supposed to call her? Everyone here knows I''m Serena, but the whole point of this is for no one to know that she is Theophania, surely! As trustworthy as Auguste and Celeste are, they are still involved with The Convention of Humanity. I don''t trust our other government to be particularly kind to an Auguste who has secret knowledge about where the Princess of the country has fled to. Theophania can''t be thinking of just telling them, can she? She has a plan, right?

    Gods I wish I knew it. Then I''d know how to answer Auguste''s inquiries. "So... Serena. Your new friend seems nice. Where did you two meet?"

    I feel woefully unprepared for all of this. Could I even be prepared enough for this? It''s lying, I''m very bad at lying! And Celeste can''t save me this time, she''s looking at my ''new friend'' with a keen scrutiny. Oh no... What do I do?

    "We met in Triumph Square." Theophania takes the lead, squeezing my hand under the table, letting me know to let her handle it. "She rescued me from those freak Germans, the ones who started shootin'' and slashin'' up the place. It was awful! I wouldn''t have made it through without ''er."

    It¡¯s genuinely quite amazing. Theophania''s voice... Isn''t Theophania''s. She sounds like someone else entirely, a perfect mimicry of a rural peasant girl, a much better performance than last night¡¯s. Not precisely the kind of thing you expect in a big city like Alesia, but also far from the princess of a High Kingdom. And she lies so confidently it¡¯s hard not to be impressed!

    "Hehe, our Serena is a hero." Celeste leans into me a little, but doesn''t take her eyes off Theophania. "And she''s very prone to making friends with her heroics."

    "She¡¯s very dashing and gallant and the like." Theophania nods her approval at Celeste, the two are talking past me, about me. "Almost made the horror worth it, to be saved by such a charmin'' sort."

    "I''ll bet... Forgive me, mademoiselle, but Auguste and I never got your name."

    "Oh! I''m Melissa Mentir. Just a girl you''d find anywhere." Theophania beams, something about giving the fake name makes her very happy. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam-"

    "Celeste Rosierte." There¡¯s a smile on her lips, but it¡¯s a calculating one. "Mentir... That''s a Celtiberian family name, isn''t it? Seems odd to see an Iberian girl in Alesia, certainly under these

    circumstances."

    "Oh! There''s actually a fascinatin'' story behind that! Y''see, my grandparents were Celtabarian freedom fighters, trying to throw off the shackles of Carthaginian rule. They failed, but they managed to send their kids to Taranteux on a fishing boat before they were captured and executed. Pa found work on a farm in the outskirts of Alesia, and I help sell produce in the city! I promise, the Mentir''s are good, rural folk, and are proud of our new home!" Theophania turns to look at me, as if requesting praise for this backstory she''s written for herself.

    Oh no, I can''t resist that look. "Hehe, Melissa here sure has some stories. She''s definitely... Very storied."

    "She certainly is." Celeste seems to be struggling to process all of that, having been just a little bit stunned into silence.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Theophania cuts up a morsel of food and gives a smile as she eats it, despite how pedestrian it must be compared to her usual fare. "Madam Celeste, you have done me a kindness by letting me join you for such a lovely breakfast."

    This dulls Celeste''s edge a little... Just a little. "Please, just Celeste. And Auguste did just as much of the cooking as I did."

    "Then thank you too, Monsieur Auguste!"

    Theophania knows exactly what she is doing. Auguste is a man who is proud of his cooking skills, my princess is pressing all the right points to make them like her. She¡¯s... Good at this. Not just pretending to be someone else, but pretending to be someone charming and likable. A difficult thing to pull off, I wonder if my brother could learn a thing or two from her. Malmo certainly could.

    Auguste is trying his best not to smile from ear to ear, looking down at his plate as if it would somehow disprove the compliment. "Well, any friend of Serena''s is basically family. Of course we''d cook for you."

    "Awww, I''m part of the family!" Theophania rests her head on my shoulder, getting in close. "Hehe, did you hear that, Serena?"

    I can''t quite tell what the strategy behind this is. It only aggravates Celeste more, pressing the exact wrong points with her... Maybe this isn''t a strategic move? Maybe she just really wants her head on my shoulder. It is pleasant, even if everything in the world makes me feel too anxious to properly enjoy it.

    "It''s... It''s a very good family to be part of." I try to smile in spite of everything, and clearly I''m a better liar than I thought because I manage it. "One I''m proud to be with."

    "Oh, you charmer." Celeste can''t help but smile, can''t help but stroke my hair with an almost motherly concern. "It''s been an honor to have you, Serena. I hope we can host you again when you return from Samnia."

    The table takes on a more somber atmosphere after that. Oh right, this is goodbye for now, isn''t it? We eat slowly, as if it will somehow increase the time we get together. Theophania is quiet, not wanting to rob any more of the Rosiertes¡¯ time with me, especially since this isn''t a goodbye for her... I can''t leave the table with this kind of feeling. I owe Celeste and Auguste more than that.

    "I''ll just have to conquer Samnia in a hurry, that way I can come visit again." I smile, I''m giving the most ''Serena'' plan I can think of. "And if they send me further east, I''ll just have to conquer the Magyars. And the Germans. And even the Golden Kingdom of Novgorod if I must! Hehe... I won''t be gone long, I promise."

    "Hehehe, I believe you." I''m not entirely certain that Celeste in fact believes me, but she seems to appreciate the ''Serena-ness'' of my plan regardless of whether or not I can actually enact it. "I know we''ll be seeing you again soon."

    Auguste is about to speak his agreement but is interrupted by a knock at the door, turning whatever sentiment he held into a mild grimace. "I guess that''s them, come to take you away."

    "In the middle of breakfast, how rude!" Theophania sticks her tongue out in the direction of the door, something which somehow manages to make both of the Rosiertes laugh. "I''m half tempted to tell them to rack off till we''re done."

    "If the army let us do that then Serena would never go anywhere." A little giggle from Celeste... A sad little giggle. "Haaah. And if there were no partings, then there would be no second meetings, right?"

    I nod, and I notice just how difficult it has become to not cry. I''m going to miss this place. Despite all the awkwardness- Maybe even in part because of the awkwardness, I''m going to miss Auguste and Celeste. I''m going to miss their dining table, I''m going to miss having someone to come home to. I''m going to miss this family I''d stumbled my way into. I should stand up, I should try my best to face whoever is at the door with dignity. To give Auguste and Celeste one last look at the dignified general they allowed into their lives. I get to my feet... And I really, really want to hold Celeste right now.

    Auguste, Celeste, and Theophania rise to their feet as well, they''re all walking me to the door. It''s a little awkward for four people to navigate as one through the house, but we manage it all the same. I take a deep breath, I open the door...

    And Antoine appears to be having a staring match with Pasche, apparently having gotten off on the wrong foot near immediately... I had expected soldiers ready to load me into a carriage, to take me to a mustering ground and prepare to get the soldiers to march. Something impersonal and dull, but easy. This... Is none of those things.

    "Mademoiselle Pasche, I appreciate your enthusiasm but this is my sister we''re talking about. I don''t think I can just leave her in the hands of someone I don''t know. Someone who may not know her nearly as well as she claims to. My sister is a public figure now, she''s bound to have some enemies."

    "That you could even suggest that I would be an enemy of my... Of Serena! I ought to teach you a thing or two about respect and loyalty, Monsieur Pollineux!"

    "I think I''m more than justified in being a little cavalier in the defense of my sister!"

    "Well I''m more than justified being a little cuirassier for the honor of my girl- General!"

    ... Well, at least I might soon learn if Pasche can beat Antoine in a fight... But I won''t allow that lesson to take place right this second. "Antoine, stop antagonizing Pasche! Pasche! ... Good morning."

    "Oh! Good morning, Serena!" Pasche quickly turns her attention my way, dropping my brother''s existence from her mind. "It''s a pleasure to- ... Good morning, Serena''s companion."

    Pasche''s sudden emotional setback gave Antoine room to speak, which was a problem when he insisted on pushing things. "Ah, Serena!  You know this ruffian?"

    "I happen to be best friends with this ruffian- This brave and noble knight." I have to stifle a giggle, and oddly enough so does Pasche, even as she is apparently just a little displeased at being called a ''best friend''. "And I''m glad she''s come to see me before being sent to Samnia."

    "And after, of course." Pasche is mumbling, but she''s mumbling loudly and boldly enough for me to hear it. "I''m coming with you."

    "Wait, aren''t you still with the Army of the East? Taking leave is one thing, isn''t this dereliction of duty?"

    "The High King did just die, Serena. High Command is too busy trying to purge Royalists from the army to care that one cuirassier somewhere wants to serve her country in a different place. And if they do care, they''re more than welcome to try sacrificing me for it."

    "No they certainly are not." Now I''m mumbling, and before I know it my shaky legs are making a stern walk towards my knight. "No one is going to sacrifice someone I care about. I won''t allow it."

    "Serena..." Pasche looks about to embrace me, before she catches sight of Theophania, who has apparently followed me to her. "... Seriously, Serena, who is this?"

    Theophania beams, taking a deep breath and a proper stance. "Ah! I''m Melissa Mentir, it''s a pleasure to meetcha! I''m just a local peasant girl who Serena-"

    "She''s Princess Theophania." I cut my Princess off, and immediately feel bad about ruining her fun. "She''s coming with us as my new publicist."

    Theophania looks betrayed, pouting in my direction with genuine, actual annoyance. "Hey! I was just getting to the good part!"

    Oh no, she''s still adorable. "I really appreciate your ability to act, my Princess... But I do not want you to lie to Pasche or my other companions. I want you to trust them, and for them to trust you. Understood?"

    "... I understand." She''s still pouting.

    I reach up and pat her on the head. She''s slightly taller than me, just like Her Majesty. It hurts, I have to force myself to not recoil my hand at the realization. It makes my arm ache to try and hold my ground. I try to wrap up my affection and withdraw, before this intensity causes me to do something rash. My Princess least appreciates the gesture, finally giving me a smile again. I love her smile. It hurts.

    Speaking of hurt, Pasche looks about ready to hurt someone at my little admission. "Serena, are we kidnapping a Princess? Are we kidnapping our nation''s princess?!"

    "If we are, I think you''d want to be a little quieter about it, so as to not get my sister into any more trouble than she''s already in." Antoine takes the opportunity to get a jab in at Pasche, which cements in her mind who she¡¯s going to hurt first.

    "More trouble?! She''s kidnapped a member of the Royal Family! ... Where did you even find the time, it''s been a day!" The rage is intense. And short-lived, soon collapsing into a melancholic exhaustion. "Why do you keep doing things that are going to get you killed? I keep asking you not to..."

    "I''m sorry-"

    "Don''t die. I thought it would be a simple enough oath."

    Things are quiet for a moment, until Princess Theophania of all people raises her voice, staring right at Pasche. "I was not kidnapped, Mademoiselle Pasche. And I resent that you would accuse my knight of such! I came to her chambers for protection of my own volition, and this is her method of protecting me. She is doing me a kindness, she didn''t kidnap me!"

    "So she''s just helping you run away from home then. That''s still dangerous-" Pasche''s resigned despair seems to be cut through in an instant as she picks up on something. "Wait, you were in her room?"

    "Yes? I snuck in through a window and waited for her. Why does that matter?"

    "It matters a lot! For... Reasons!"

    "What reasons?"

    "My reasons!"

    The two are glaring at each other now, and leaving me wondering why the people I care about just can''t seem to get along. It''s enough to make a girl despair, that everyone I like, everyone who starts to like me, seems to make everyone else I like unhappy. Maybe I really do invite conflict just by existing. Maybe I''ve done awful things to more than just Theophania... I have no one left to pray to, but I can at least violently and intensely hope that the actual army shows up soon to take me away from all this.

    What approaches is not the army- well, not the army I¡¯m expecting. Marching down the city street towards me are a few hundred butchers, with Katarina at the head of them, walking alongside Xena. How did I manage to briefly, blissfully forget that an entire cannibal mercenary company was following me around? Judging from the slapdash state of their supply wagons they had to pack up their new base in Alesia very quickly. I guess someone must have passed the news around of my new assignment and now everyone knew where to follow me. I should have told everyone... But I had to sprint up a hill and hurt someone dear to me, and be forsaken by my patron goddess. It all seems so stupid, yet it still hurts a great deal. But I can''t let that show on my face, or we might never get anywhere. Right now I have to pretend to be at least a little bit ''all together'', a little composed. A little bit normal.

    So I smile at Katarina and Xena''s approach, trying to keep nothing in my mind beyond making it through this morning alive. "Xena. Katarina... Thank you for coming with me... I assume. This isn''t just a big, elaborate goodbye, is it?"

    Xena whispers something in German to Katarina, which provokes one of the bear woman¡¯s horrifying laughs before she shakes her head. "You paid. With you."

    Antoine is awestruck upon seeing Katarina, not that I can blame him. She''s a terrifying thing to learn exists, and is very hard not to see. Except Antoine doesn''t seem scared in the slightest. He''s as fascinated by Katarina as Xena is.

    "... Sis, I must confess, I assumed you were joking about the bear woman." He takes a step forward, scrutinizing her form closely. "But you neglected to tell me that she was such a beauty."

    Antoine steps close enough for Xena to flick him on the forehead for his impudence. "No. Leering at people is bad."

    "But I leer at people all the time! I count it among my hobbies!"

    Antoine''s protest earns him another flick, along with an exasperated sigh from Xena. "Then you''ll have to count being punished among your hobbies because I won''t let you leer at Katarina."

    Katarina for her part doesn''t seem to mind the leering, being more confused by Antoine''s interest in her than in any way offended. Still, Antoine backs down, finding Xena to be the more fearsome of the two... Every day is going to be like this, huh? My brother annoying my friends, my friends annoying each other. I''ll have to pull double duty, both as a general of men and a herder of cats... Maybe it will at least be lively. At least it''ll be a distraction.

    Finally, mercifully, a carriage arrives for me, flanked by soldiers accompanied by a very familiar, and now very confused messenger. The rest of my life could finally begin, I¡¯m not stuck here anymore. I make my way to the carriage... And find myself taking one last glimpse of the Rosiertes¡¯ home, my home in Alesia. I''ll miss this place. I''ll miss the people in it. I''ll miss being one of the people in it¡­

    And I''ll return alive. I''ll see them again.

 Chapter Forty Three

    Another march. This one''s taken a month. It''s almost enough to make one nostalgic for fighting greenjackets in the powder smoke of a market square, or fleeing a melting art gallery. Day in, day out monotony, only this time it''s punctuated by wrestling with grief. Her Majesty rejected me, my friends seem on edge around me... Theophania is trying to seize any opportunity to be at my side. It''s become too painful for me to bear, the fear that I''ll project my desires onto her, that I''ll do some awful thing that will make her happy. It wouldn''t be fair on her, or Her Majesty. I can''t be trusted around her.

    Avoiding her has become part of my daily routine. I have to believe it''s the healthiest thing, that it''s a very bitter medicine for both of us. If she ever knew about the twisted nature of my affections then she might break. And if she ever tried to start something, I don''t think I could resist those affections any longer. This is what a grown-up would do about this, surely. Why does being a grown-up have to be cruel all the time?

    Pasche as well has been rather awkward around me lately. She''s not quite been ignoring me, it''s more a sense that she''s unsure about something. I''ve treated her terribly, haven''t I? ... I skipped out on our day together, just to fail to save my goddess. I''ve been tempted to share my magic with her again, to try and get her back on-side, but that doesn''t feel right. I don''t think I have the right to be in her heart right now.

    Xena too has been cagey around me, her demeanour a mixture of odd stares, casual pleasantries, and intense questions I don''t know the answers to. Questions there might not be answers to, but sting a little to fail to answer. If she didn''t like that kiss she could just say so¡­ Only she doesn''t. I''ve been tempted to apologize anyway, but something tells me that would only offend her more. Why do my friends have to be such enigmas?

    At least Antoine and Katarina have been mercifully straightforward. The two have actually become fast friends. Antoine has no idea how to speak German, but he does know how to speak ''enthusiasm'' and that seems to carry to Katarina''s ears. Xena seems honestly a little displeased to have to fight for Katarina''s affections. I wonder if she''s going to flick my brother on the forehead again over it. It''s odd to imagine Xena being jealous.

    While I''ve hardly been in the mood to join in that revelry, it has been nice to get some moments with Antoine myself, even if our conversations inexorably turn tactical. If nothing else this march has gone a long way in filling some gaps in my education. It''s certainly been a comfort to be able to plan around having well-equipped and drilled troops behind me, courtesy of my new ''friends'' in The Convention no doubt... If they sacrifice Her Majesty, how long will it take me to learn the news? A month? Longer? Would I never know, until I one day return to Alesia to find a world that has forgotten her? ... She''d rather die than be by my side. She''d rather be forgotten. Am I supposed to forget her? Is that what a grown-up would do?

    Summer has well and truly come to an end by the time we cross the border into Samnia. We march over autumn leaves on the roads and shiver at the occasional chills as the nights grow colder. Frightfully colder, and I no longer have Her Majesty''s warmth to see me through them. On these cold nights I''m almost tempted to let Theophania in, to give up on being a good person, to make her sinfully, blasphemously happy. But I choose to freeze... I haven''t gotten much sleep since we entered Samnia. But on the bright side, that has spared me from my dreams.

    I have to wonder if I look like a complete mess as the army finally makes its way into the city of Genoa, Avernia''s base of operations in Samnia. I simply lack the patience to do my hair right or keep my uniform prim and proper. I''m hardly slovenly but if trends continue, if the cold continues, who knows how much of a mess I¡¯ll end up becoming. My disheveled state isn''t enough to keep me from the front of the column however, as Antoine and I enter the city, with my entourage not far behind. We leave our long-suffering horses at the stables, and Antoine takes me on a walking tour of the city. A proud one, albeit an unusual one.

    "And here''s where the Magyar''s grenadiers tried to rally after we''d breached the walls! Of course, we moved a little too quickly for them to get organized, they didn''t manage much more than sparing us the difficulty of finding them all!" Antoine gestures to a large building, one of a kind I''d never seen before, and which I imagined traditionally didn''t have impact marks from musket balls.

    "Where is ''here'' exactly though, brother? You promised a tour of the city, not a tour of your conquest."

    "They''re one and the same, sis! ... I think the Samnians call this building a church. Instead of worshiping surrounded by nature, they lock themselves in brick buildings and pray in silence. It''s more than a little odd."

    "Huh. Fascinating."

    Seems the gods aren''t picky about how they''re worshiped. That or the war spilling over into Samnian lands is a sign that they¡¯ve displeased the gods with their practices, but that doesn''t seem correct. Honestly the fact that we can have such different traditions for the same thing makes it all seem a little arbitrary.

    "Yeah. I think it''s a church of Velvet, going by what''s left of the iconography. Hehe, I''d best not catch you looking at the priests here, sis. If you submit a receipt for a visit I''ll know."

    "... You needn''t worry about me visiting priests, brother." I wonder if all the priestesses in there are like Renee. Sad, but animated and charming and worthy of all the joy in the world.

    "Good good. You deserve better than anything Velvet can offer anyhow. You¡¯re a Pollineux." That¡¯s almost a compliment, albeit one that denigrates Velvet''s faithful a little more than I''d like.

    "Thank you, brother... Shall we head to the site of your next little triumph then?"

    "Certainly! We haven''t even made it to the square yet, I have a tale to tell about how we took that one- Lazierte?!"

    My brother has caught something out of the corner of his eye, and very quickly becomes fixated on it, gesturing for it to come join us... Wait, Lazierte? Lazierte is here?! I feel my heart skip a beat. I knew she was in Samnia but somehow, in my grief, I did not at all prepare for this reunion. Oh gods, I haven''t done my hair, my uniform is all disheveled, why did I let it come to this? She''s going to make fun of me forever.

    She''s going to laugh her dumb little laugh and I am going to be so very happy to hear it again.

    "Oh, you''re back." Lazierte slowly approaches Antoine, the eye roll evident in her voice. "I''ve written extensive reports about the events of the past two months. Maybe you''d like to read them and leave me alone- Serena?!"

    Her eyes catch me... And soon her arms do too, as she sprints over and almost knocks me over with her sheer excitement. She holds me in a tight, slightly sharp embrace, which I quickly return.

    I have missed her, and having her in my arms again I wonder how I was ever able to function separated from her. She smells nice... She may have grown an inch since we last saw each other. Hehe, just a little more Lazierte than last time.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    "Oh yes, I failed to mention that my little sister was accompanying me here. Admittedly it was a fairly last minute change..." Antoine''s voice implies a confused look that I can''t see, consumed as I am in my best friend''s embrace.

    "Are you real? Tell me you''re real!" Is Lazierte crying?

    "I am real, Lazierte. And I''m really happy to see you again." Oh no, I think I''m tearing up a little too... Just another facet of the mess that I''ve become.

    "Me too. On both of those things, me too!"

    The embrace lasts for both an eternity, and for far too short a time. Eventually Lazierte lets me go, and I reluctantly slip my arms away as well. Lazierte certainly has been crying, and reaching up a hand to my cheek revealed I have shed a tear or two. For a moment we simply stare at one another... Before Lazierte finally speaks.

    "You look like a wreck... The march must not have treated you kindly." She chuckles, but there is clear concern behind her little teasing.

    "Yeah... I haven''t slept right in... Gods only know how long."

    "Well, I can certainly fix that! ... I got a new portrait of Her Majesty, I''m sure you''ll find it remarkably stimulating!"

    "Oh... Thank you, Lazierte." I try my hardest to sound even one one-millionth as excited as that would have made me back when we were students together. "Hehe, you''re too kind to me."

    "There''s no such thing as ''too kind to you'', Serena."

    At some point Lazierte and I remember that my brother exists, and has been staring at the two of us making fools of ourselves for a while now. I turn... In his eyes I can see he has finally realized something. Or at least, he certainly thinks he has.

    "Wait, are you two-"

    "Best friends, yes." Lazierte cut his thought off at the pass with a surprisingly sharp tone.

    "I was going to say ''married'' but sure, best friends." A sharp tone that Antoine is utterly immune to, utterly certain about his little revelation.

    "I... I uhhh-" I want to deny it outright but something seizes my tongue and refuses to let me contradict him.

    Lazierte by contrast is nothing but rather panicked noises, not even able to form words to fumble like I was. It¡¯s honestly adorable, but the poor girl seems in pain. I reach out a hand to take hers and run my thumb over the back of her hand. And she immediately gets my meaning, managing to regain her calm. She¡¯s now almost up to the task of explaining our very idiosyncratic friendship to my brother.

    Pasche joins us, and once again is a destroyer of moods. "Are we interrupting something?"

    Xena and Katarina follow behind. Xena regards Lazierte and I curiously, while Katarina bounds over to offer her hand to a potential new friend, giving a heartfelt greeting in German. Lazierte is genuinely baffled at the sight of Katarina, moreso at her little introduction, but with another thumb rubbed over the back of her hand she takes the German cannibal''s offer and tries her best to smile. One again Katarina is a lot to take in on a first encounter. As is Xena, come to think of it. And Pasche is a little odd too, in her way¡­ I am going to have to introduce Lazierte to all my new friends.

    And Antoine is going to be no help, he takes a step back from the situation we''ve found ourselves in. "I''ll... Go read those reports. You girls catch up, I''ll see you at dinner."

    This might be the first time I have ever heard of Antoine Pollineux retreating. But admittedly, he has a lot to think about, what with his bent sister and his assumption that I am married to his latest obsession... No priest of Wool would ever marry us, it¡¯s a ridiculous thing to suggest. But it is one powerful enough to leave me stupefied apparently.

    Never mind that though, I have to face the same situation Antoine has just retreated from, and face it bravely. "Pasche, Xena, Katarina... This is Lazierte. My best friend from the Officer''s Academy."

    There¡¯s silence for a moment, before a confused-looking Pasche manages to voice a question. "I thought I was your ''best friend''."

    "Oh, you are. Lazierte is also my best friend."

    "Well, how does that work? Best means best, on top, above all others. How can two people be your best friend?"

    I''m starting to feel like my taxonomy might be crumbling a little. Pasche has something resembling a point, and yet I don¡¯t think I love her any less than Lazierte, and I love Lazierte no less than her. And Xena looks almost a little displeased, watching this whole thing unfold, silently judging my reasoning... What are the words that can get me out of this? Because the ones I''m using are clearly insufficient¡­

    "It''s just... It just does work. I don''t love either of you more than the other and I love you both a lot. I don''t know what else you''d call that..."

    Lazierte and Pasche try to find the answers to this conundrum in each other, scrutinizing one another as if to see what I ''saw'' in them. Honestly, they look rather similar. Both quite underfed and skinny, both fairly short and both with fairly short hair. Lazierte''s breasts are only a little bit larger than Pasche''s, it must be said... Why am I looking at that? I''m a disgrace to Her Majesty! ... I¡¯m  already a disgrace to Her Majesty, how dare I still think I have any of her approval left to lose?

    While Lazierte and Pasche stare each-other down, Xena''s eyes are squarely on me, and seem almost a little malicious. "Have you kissed her too?"

    This is enough to break Lazierte and Pasche out of her little staring contest and puts a considerable blush on both of their faces. One which Lazierte utterly fails to hide by looking down, clearly ashamed of something. Of being a coward? I remember our last meeting, her lamenting her cowardice... What would have happened had she kissed me fully? I''m not even sure I''d have been able to get to Alemannia if she had.

    "I haven''t, no." I answered truthfully, but not exactly honestly.

    "Of course. Because she hasn''t saved your life yet. I forgot."

    Xena was being cruel. I don''t understand why Xena would ever feel the need to be cruel. And yet, she doesn''t have an expression. I''m reading malice into an empty stare, but what else could there be? Surely I''m not that bad a kisser, am I?

    "Of course, neither has Princess Theophania. Oh, she''s sleeping in the carriage by the way. We should probably wake her up and get her settled in our new home. Right, General?"

    "R- Right." I nod, but my attention quickly falls on Lazierte again, poor embarrassed Lazierte. "You know the area better than I do, and you have the relevant experience. Would you mind helping me organize the troops?"

    She nods, though it took a while to raise her head after. "Sure. I can more than do that, Serena¡­ What¡¯s this about Her Highness?"

    The two of us get moving, and I have to try to explain how I came into possession of the actual princess of an actual country.. As necessary as this agonizing little introduction was, I am more than happy that it¡¯s over. Even if it didn''t seem to resolve anything, at least there is some respite from it. Why is having loved ones so difficult? Trying to balance Her Majesty and my friends was bad, now even with her gone it''s still so hard! ... Is this why most people married once and that¡¯s it? Is this just another way that I''m strange?

    If I become a grown-up, am I going to have to pick one of them and abandon the rest? I don''t think I can do that, I don''t think I can ever do that. Her Majesty was my very goddess, and she still couldn''t keep me from wanting to kiss Pasche and Xena and Celeste, or from wanting to comfort a poor priestess in a lonely town. Or even from the things I did with her daughter. Even my goddess couldn''t make me love her and only her, and abandon the rest. What is wrong with me? ... Does Xena know? Is that why she keeps asking questions? Does she maybe even have a solution?

 Chapter Forty Four

    "We lost everything?!"

    Antoine was true to his word about reading Lazierte''s reports, and Lazierte was true to her word about writing them. What I did not expect was for Antoine to bring those to the officer''s mess, along with a giant map of The Kingdom of Samnia. I don''t think I''ve seen him genuinely angry before, but the way he looks at Lazierte is nothing but malicious. It¡¯s enough to make my stomach turn... Why is Lazierte so unaffected by it?

    She''s not even standing up to face my brother¡¯s accusation, apparently it just isn¡¯t worth it to her. "I was pushed back approximately 100 miles across Northern Samnia by an overwhelming Magyar force, while suffering minimal casualties and having been abandoned by my senior officer. If that''s losing ''everything'' then I''d like you to tell the living soldiers that they don''t count."

    "We¡¯d almost killed them! We were perfectly poised to go for the Coalition army''s throat!"

    "And we were perfectly positioned to lose our hands in its mouth."

    "I left you in command of the army in my absence because I trusted you, Lazierte! We could have won!"

    "You could have won, Antoine."

    Lazierte remains perfectly composed, as rigid as steel... I reach for her hand, more to comfort myself than to comfort her. She takes it without even looking, and I can feel no anxiety in her touch. She isn''t just putting on a brave face, she¡¯s genuinely relaxed, being yelled at by my brother. Is she simply used to this? ... Has she seen worse?

    Antoine pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly unable to dispute this flattering comeback. "Regardless, we now have to conquer the entire Kingdom of Samnia all over again. From SCRATCH!"

    "Think of it this way, General. We get to conquer the entire Kingdom of Samnia again. From scratch." Lazierte is barely cognizant of my hand on hers, she¡¯s focused on this... Her ignorance of my presence is somehow harsher on me than Antoine''s yelling. "Only this time we have experience on our side."

    "Don''t try to flatter me, Colonel Lazierte." Antoine is clearly very flattered, and more to the point a terrible liar. "... But I suppose you have a point. We know the country better, we know what we''re doing better, and while the Coalition is likely to have taken the opportunity to reinforce this sector, this time we have two Pollineuxs! They won''t know what hit them!"

    "Y... Yes. This time we have Serena with us too." And with that, the steel is shattered, and I can feel Lazierte squeeze my hand for comfort, aware of me again. "We''ll take it all back and then some. I''m sure we''ll be in the Carpathian Basin within a year."

    "See, that''s the kind of ambition I appreciate in my officers!" Antoine''s rage has entirely evaporated, you wouldn¡¯t even believe him capable of it to see him now... Perhaps Lazierte doesn''t fear his anger because he¡¯s simply so easy to play. "... I certainly hope the rest of you have such lofty ambitions!"

    He¡¯s addressing every officer in the mess, but his eyes fall upon my companions, sitting with Lazierte and I. Companions who are not in fact officers but simply will not leave my side, despite the awkwardness of current circumstances and the life-threatening danger. I think Antoine is testing the suitability of my friends, and clearly the most suitable friends are the ones who will conquer the world with you. One Empire at a time.

    Xena shrugs off the invective, clearly ambivalent about world domination. Katarina doesn''t understand a word, but she appreciates the enthusiasm. Pasche is staring at Lazierte and I, the world far from her mind. Only Theophania really takes it on board, and is nervously playing with her fingers, grappling with the enormity of the task.

    "I guess it would make for a good story..." I can''t blame her for her nervousness, peak Antoine is something that could be difficult to grapple with. "La''an''s biggest empire conquered by pair of Pollineuxs."

    I''m glad someone can be excited by it... We¡¯re going to war again. I''ll have to be better this time, because this time I¡¯m going to have to keep up with Antoine. I''ll have no margin for error, for the errors that are inherent to me... I can''t make the mistake of being Serena Pollineux on this battlefield. I squeeze Lazierte''s hand twice, things are not alright. Lazierte is here, Pasche and Xena and Katarina and Theophania are here. I win, or everyone I love and care about will die.

    I will have to be a monster again.

    I realize I''ve gotten so lost in thought that I''ve missed the rest of Antoine''s impromptu hype session. People are eating again. People who aren''t Lazierte and I are eating again, I¡¯m spacing out and Lazierte is down a hand. And I''m not certain I''ll give it back so she could eat. I want to keep it. I want to keep her.

    I let go, the poor girl needs every bit of food she can get. "S... Sorry, Lazierte. I''ll let you eat."

    Lazierte looks down at my hand, the one that had just been in hers... And she takes it back, giving a squeeze. "The food''ll be warm a little while longer still. It''s okay."

    ¡­ My heart flutters ever so slightly...

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    Lazierte looks so vulnerable and unsure when she can see that I''m near, a dramatic change from the discipline she¡¯s clearly capable of. Is this what the late Marshal was talking about? Am I weakening her? ... I cannot allow this. Lazierte deserves to live, and Serena Pollineux is ruining her chances. A monster can protect her, she must come to see me as a monster. That is the only way I can protect her, I have to start by protecting her from myself... I let Lazierte¡¯s hand go again and try to focus on my own meal, and leave her to hers¡­ It hurts. I feel her warmth fading against my skin and it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts¡­ But it hurts for her. So it is right that it should hurt.

    Back in Alesia, I would have prayed to Her Majesty. Now all I have to pray to is my own self-loathing.

    "A monster wouldn''t care about these things."

    Dinner wraps up mercifully quickly after that, but before I can leave Antoine takes the stage again. He had been spending much of his meal staring at the map, barely giving his food any attention so he could plot military maneuvers. It¡¯s honestly quite stunning, it''s like he¡¯s a reverse Malmo.

    And it seems he''s formed a plan while the rest of us ate. "Right. Our first objective has to be to split the Magyar forces in two. If they''ve been on the offensive since I took my leave then they''re likely over-extended, and pushing through the middle will threaten their entire army with being cut-off from supply. They''ll withdraw, and we can retake the initiative! ... To this end, I believe the city of Medhelanon will be a most useful target to aim for. It sits in the middle of their lines, is in a vital strategic position in the Po River Valley, and will be a fantastic prize to win for our first victory in the new campaign!"

    The officers around us cheer in agreement, not even a little displeased to be kept here after dinner, hanging on his every word. I wonder if any of them ever disagree with Antoine. I wonder if they¡¯re ever right.

    "Good headlines back home, good morale for the troops here. And a good potential capital for the Republic of Samnia we shall build when all this is said and done!" Republic of Samnia? The Convention had made no mention of that... "And, of course, I must remind you all that we are here as LIBERATORS. Both from the Magyar aggression, and the corrupt and decrepit monarchy of Samnia itself. Which means we are to treat these people with respect and dignity! No aggression, no public debauchery, and absolutely no looting! Do I make myself clear?!"

    The mere mention of looting panics some of the officers, visibly shrinking in their chairs and nervously talking amongst one another. Some give Lazierte nervous glances, others look more hopefully at Antoine... I know looting is a time honored tradition of any army, difficult to stamp out, but this fearful reaction to the order is beyond excessive. Lazierte is steel again for a moment, she can clearly feel the eyes on her and is trying her best to feel nothing. There''s a story here, isn''t there? ¡­ I want to hold her. I can¡¯t allow myself to hold her.

    "Right! I''m glad we all understand." Antoine himself looks surprised by the reception to his order, but if he were the kind of man to miss a beat he wouldn''t be Antoine Pollineux. "Alright, pass the order on to your men, we move out tomorrow at noon."

    Tomorrow? We just got here! The men just finished a month''s long march, did Antoine really expect them to march another week to Medhelanon immediately? His officers are entirely on board, not a single one of them is going to contradict the word of my brother.

    None except Lazierte, who gets to her feet this time to question Antoine directly. "General Pollineux-"

    "Antoine, please."

    "... Antoine, your forces did just complete a march all the way from the mustering grounds in Alesia. Do you really think sending them on another march this quickly is prudent?"

    "Colonel Lazierte, we do not have the luxury of prudence. The Magyar armies are going to converge on this location, moving in from all directions to attempt to surround us and to attack on a wide front. This is the only time they will be vulnerable! If we allow them to coalesce on this location we will be pinned down, we will be outnumbered, and we will be destroyed. Move fast or die, that is our motto here."

    "You sound more like a cheetah than a lion." Lazierte regards Antoine''s theatrics with little respect and less patience. "Wouldn''t we have a better chance fighting the Magyars defensively in any case? Genoa is well fortified, and it''s not as if the Magyars can simply bypass it-"

    "To fight on the defense is the most egregious of errors, Colonel!" Antoine leans forward awkwardly to slam his fist upon the dining table, in a way that doesn¡¯t come across as natural or comfortable. "To fight defensively is to surrender all ability to maneuver in the face of the enemy, to see their formations and attack their weak points, to adjust your position. The biggest advantage we have as an army is the size of the country, it has a great deal of space for redeployment. When you pin yourself to a tiny section of it, you make yourself vulnerable! And you make yourself an obvious target, which bolsters the enemy''s confidence! ... We must be swift and unknowable, Colonel Lazierte. And sometimes that means imprudence."

    "Try explaining that to the men''s blistered feet, Antoine."

    "I''m sure the men would prefer decisive command to comfortable command, Lazierte."

    Lazierte slowly sits back down again, though it¡¯s more a strategic withdrawal than an outright rout. Those words are familiar, I had rebuked Malmo in much the same way, hadn''t I? And yet I had made the mistake of trying to defend Alsace with traps and trenches. I should have ambushed the enemy in the woods, I should have killed them before they had a chance to organize. I could have saved so many lives! ... That is how a monster fights, how to be an ambush predator. Yes... We will begin the march tomorrow. It¡¯s the decisive thing to do. It will save lives¡­ It might save my friends¡¯ lives.

    "Sorry, Serena..." Lazierte whispers to me gently, leaning into my shoulder. "I had hoped to buy you some time off your feet."

    Her objection was for my sake? ¡­ She¡¯d make bad military decisions for my sake¡­ "It''s okay. We''ll have plenty of time to be off our feet once we conquer the Kingdom of Samnia, right?"

    "Hehe... Right..."

    The officers disperse, they have to see to their men and deliver the bad news. Lazierte and I get to our feet together, but we will soon be splitting up again. My little band of friends rise to join me, ready to deliver the bad news with me. Lazierte gives me one last little look as she makes her way to perform her duty¡­ She¡¯ll be alone in her tent tonight, alone in her bed, missing me. And as easy as it would be to join her, to be as we were back home¡­ I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t endanger her like that¡­ And all I¡¯d be doing is ruining her time with Her Majesty.

    She deserves to be with Her Majesty. And Her Majesty deserves her more than I do.

 Chapter Forty Five

    It¡¯s a long march to the Po river, but it''s also a surprisingly hopeful one. The soldiers who had served under Antoine previously are quite enthusiastic to be under his command again, and eagerly sing his praises to the new troops. The Pollineux legend spreads quickly, and the march continues with a kind of cheer that I didn¡¯t think was possible. For the first time in my life all those dispatches and after action reports are real. Antoine''s very name is like a magic spell that makes men willing to march for him. Which feels unfair to me, I have to ruin my heart to get the same effect.

    The army is singing when we finally catch sight of the Magyar standards, and the tens of thousands of men marching beneath them. They¡¯re trying to cross the river, and doing so painfully slowly over a small stone bridge, awkwardly trying to reform around the village on the other end. It¡¯s a tiny village, a hamlet really, one looked over by a nearby estate on a hill, and surrounded by golden fields of wheat. A miniscule slice of a peaceful world, about to be consumed by the world of violence...

    Despite the awkwardness of this crossing, the Magyars who have already managed to cross clearly outnumbered us. The ones yet to cross also clearly outnumber us. It¡¯s a bleak scenario, especially since this is only a third of the Magyar forces in Northern Samnia. And yet the troops are undeterred. Antoine is undeterred, watching through a telescope with clear amusement. I fail to see what''s so funny about this.

    "I swear, they make it too easy sometimes." He offers me the telescope, and with it a laugh. "Give it a looksee, this is an auspicious first step on our reconquest of the Kingdom of Samnia."

    I take the telescope, but my eyes are now squarely on Antoine, trying to see what invisible thing is constantly filling him with such confidence. "They outnumber us, brother. If I had to guess I''d say three to one at a minimum. I think we''re operating under different definitions of auspicious."

    "Oh ye of little faith. I''ve taught you a lot about theory but today you''re going to learn something about practice. Yes, they have a lot more men, but take a look at the men they have." He points at the mass, the horde of white clad figures, and gestures to the telescope.

    I take a closer look at our adversary, and I immediately understand two things. One, Antoine has every right to be confident. And two-

    "So many men in white, following the beat of the drums and carrying muskets. But tell me, Serena, where is the enemy army?"

    This isn''t a monster. This is a crowd of people. Scared people, disheveled people. Their muskets all look different, some don''t have all their kit. I swear I see one man holding a sharpened stick as if it were a firelock. We are about to kill tens of thousands of people. And Antoine is very, very amused.

    "Pay special attention to the men with the taller hats and ribbons on their chests. That is the real army."

    It¡¯s difficult to find the ''real army'' in this sea of human beings, but eventually I catch sight of them. These men look a great deal more professional, better equipped, better fed, and a great deal fewer. I can only count two regimental standards between them, there might be less than a thousand of the ''real'' army here. And I presume pointing them out is mostly for the purposes of targeting them down.

    "Our artillery will keep an eye on these troops, the enemy is liable to keep them in reserve until they absolutely have to use them. Having some competent military men keeps the conscripts in line, keeps them afraid. No one wants to be shot for desertion after all."

    "... You make it sound like our primary weapon is fear, brother."

    "Our primary weapon is always fear. Avernia hardly produces enough cannons or bullets to make anything else viable. So the trick is always in the fear."

    I guess there''s almost something kind about it. Fleeing conscripts get to live after all, and it¡¯s better than seeing them all in the maw of a monster. Maybe we can get through today without much blood being spilled. Maybe it¡¯s more humane to be a monster.

    Lazierte approaches on horseback, having brought her own spyglass and a handful of maps. "I''ve prepared the cannons, and my regiment has taken position near the manor house, as instructed."

    "Very good, Lazierte. Yes, that position will do nicely as an anchor..." Antoine looks over my first best friend with a keen interest, before something reminds him of his earlier assumptions. "You''ll be in reserve this time, Lazierte. Hold the Manor and prepare for further orders. Serena, you''ll be taking the left flank. Try to get right up in their faces as quickly as possible, give them a fight they aren''t prepared for. And always make sure they have an avenue of escape. We''re here to make them flee."

    Lazierte, contrary to her typical indifference around Antoine, is about ready to slap him upon the giving of those orders. "Antoine, I must object to giving Serena such a dangerous assignment-"

    "She is a Pollineux too, Lazierte. Watching her fight, you might learn a thing or two about boldness." There is a chuckle from Antoine there, but it doesn''t carry his typical theatrics. "Trust in her just as much as you would trust in me."

    "I''m making this objection because I don''t trust you!"

    "Then trust her more than you trust me. Surely you trust your wife, right?"

    "We''re not-"

    She looks forlornly towards me, and to my shame I cannot meet her gaze. I feel like under better circumstances we''d laugh about something like this. As it stands, my heart is screaming. And for Lazierte¡¯s sake, it must scream alone.

    At least Antoine¡¯s orders give me a chance to protect her. "Lazierte, it''s okay."

    "He wants you to charge headlong into an army of Magyars, Serena! That isn''t okay-"

    "That''s just what soldiers do." It''s what monsters like me are built for. "And that is what I am. I¡¯ll keep you safe, Lazierte. I promise."

    "... You promised me that you''d never, ever die."

    I swallow audibly, she looks so hurt. I¡¯m protecting her, acting without restraint would only hurt her more. ¡°So did you. And I will make sure you keep that promise.¡±

    "... Damnit, Serena." She''s pouting. She turns her attention to Antoine, her steel having returned. "The second anything goes wrong, the 505th and I will come rushing in to save you. Understood."

    Antoine gives her a smile, a condolence. "I¡¯ll leave her in your hands then."

    "You damn well better."

    We linger like this for a little while longer, paralyzed by this awkward feeling. I want to take it all back, I want to hold Lazierte, I want to make her laugh her dumb little laugh and hold her hand and tell her I¡¯ll be okay... But monsters aren''t capable of warmth, and if I am anything else I¡¯ll ruin the lives of everyone I love. It¡¯s all Serena Pollineux seems capable of doing. I mount my horse and make my way to my troops without another word. I hate this, I want to be away from all this pain and awkwardness I cause. I¡¯m almost eager to enter the world of violence¡­

    I can see Lazierte and Antoine exchanging maps, and salutes as I ride away, though Lazierte returns her salute with only one finger. I¡¯m trying not to laugh, I¡¯m terrified that I¡¯ll be Serena again if I laugh at Lazierte¡¯s antics. She doesn¡¯t know it, but she¡¯s relying on me not being Serena, on not being her best friend who loves her so¡­ Antoine is relying on me too, I¡¯ve been given the left wing of the army and I must use it well. We¡¯re peers in this, aren¡¯t we? Fellow generals. At least here on this field, we are equals. Which means he needs a monster.

    It¡¯s a painfully long ride back to my lines, but when I arrive I am pleasantly surprised. Pasche has done an excellent job keeping my soldiers in line while my brother and I were observing the enemy. I wonder if she could keep doing this, even if I died on this field. Or the next one, or the next one, or the next one. She looks happy to see me return and take command again, but I¡¯m sure her reluctance to command can be trained out of her. She¡¯s as reliable an officer as she is a best friend. I wish I could love her for it.

    "I''ve gotten the men into formation. I must say, it''s a lot easier when they know what they''re doing." Pasche almost looks proud of our blue-clad boys, assembled in perfect column formation facing the enemy. "What''s the plan, General?"

    General, not Serena. A general is exactly what I am, Pasche is right to call me so. "We want to draw their professional troops out into the open. Once they fall, the conscripts will collapse around them."

    "They''ll probably be keeping those troops in reserve, in case of an emergency."

    "Then we give them an emergency. Their forces are overextended, if our infantry make contact with them in the middle of the left flank it will threaten to cut them in half, and they¡¯ll have to deploy their professional troops to keep their line from dissolving. Then Xena and her cannons can shell them for maximum effect."

    "That makes sense I think? ¡­ But what do you want me and the cavalry doing?"

    "I¡¯ll need you at the extreme left flank, to support the Manor house. They might try to mount an assault on it, and if they take that then our infantry will be outflanked." And if they attack there, they might hurt Lazierte. ¡°Once we¡¯re certain that their morale has broken down entirely you can join us in chasing the Magyars back across their bridge so we can secure a crossing.

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    "Understood.¡± She looks a little disappointed, I think she might have wanted to fight alongside me, to ensure my safety personally. ¡°Well then, I¡¯ll see you on the other side, Serena-"

    "General." I am not Serena Pollineux.

    "... I will see you on the other side, General."

    Pasche gives a much more professional salute than my brother had managed, before riding off to join the cavalry... She''d best get out of this alive. She''d better take care of herself, that''s something a monster can¡¯t do.

    I ride to join the infantry and pass my horse off to an enthusiastic-looking valet. These men look professional, but professional soldiers are just the thing we''re trying to break. If they need my magic, I want to be close enough to provide it. The men... Cheer as they see me approach. An ensign salutes me, a captain says something I don''t quite catch, but I think I''m supposed to laugh. I do so, it''s the polite thing to do. They''re eager to be part of my behemoth. They¡¯re ready to follow me.

    They will follow me into the world of violence.

    Our columns descend upon the Magyars, our cannons fire from behind us, the shells tearing through men in white uniforms. But the world hasn¡¯t changed. I smell powder smoke, see blood, but the world hasn¡¯t changed... It''s almost enough to provoke anxiety itself, but I manage to keep my breathing under control. Monsters don''t feel anxiety. Of course being a human on a battlefield feels different than this. The soldiers seem to understand this implicitly, heads held high and standards held higher.

    Across the field, the Magyars look practically wretched in comparison, scrambling to form up to meet us head-on. Officers screaming at their men to take their positions, men staring in horror at their comrades who were torn apart by the solid shot of the cannons... They won''t be able to provide any meaningful resistance, not like this.

    "General Pollineux, shouldn''t we be forming lines by now?" A colonel, likely trying to be helpful, pulls up alongside me to break my train of thought. "We''re almost in musket range..."

    "Why would we bother wasting bullets on them? Maintain column formation, charge their lines, and send them reeling before they can even deploy. They''ll break, and then we can reform to deal with their professional troops."

    "... Bold." Apparently I''ve impressed whoever this colonel is, and he quickly relays the order to an adjutant, who relays the order to the musicians, who start to play for a charge.

    It takes a moment for the troops to entirely comprehend what is being asked of them. It isn''t precisely conventional, they aren¡¯t trained to do this... But they adapt quickly, and soon they are pressing right into the center of the enemy. A confused enemy, who barely manages a half-hearted handful of shots before breaking, not even able to maintain discipline long enough for our troops to connect. They simply die out of position, unable to escape the lions of Avernia at full sprint, and even the handful of conscripts who manage to flee fast enough are to our advantage, their flight from the field is disrupting the movements of Magyar troops trying to deploy against us. It has worked frighteningly well¡­ This is the power of a monster.

    "General Pollineux, the Magyars are sending their regulars to try to push us back!" A keen eyed scout gives the report quite breathlessly, he''s gotten quite the work-out keeping up with the soldiery.

    All is going according to plan, this is almost too easy. Presumably the opposing general has finished his officer''s education in its entirety, are the last two years of schooling a treatise on how to fail and die on a battlefield? Sheep in wolves clothing, even if these men won''t flee they''ll simply die standing up rather than beneath our boots. And then we can rejoin Antoine in the center, and sweep the Magyars from our field. I call for an adjutant to give the order to the musicians. Line formation. We''ll drown the troopers in lead.

    The Magyar troopers arrive in good order, form into lines in good order... And they are able to resist the urge to fire from the edge of their effective range. These men are professional soldiers, they manage to hold their ranks until we¡¯ve advanced close enough for their volley to strike true. Lions fall around me, the man beside me catches a bullet and crumples to the ground. He¡¯s soon walked over as we advance, there aren¡¯t enough professional Magyar troops to stop our advance. We return fire, and Wolves die in droves. They manage to reform just in time for the cannons to sing again, and tear their lines to pieces with solid shot again... They''re wavering.

    The sound is like a stampede of horses. I turn my head, and find thousands of men in white coats charging right at us. Conscripts. Ones that have found their courage, or had it found for them. They are converging upon us, in numbers like this they could trample us into dust, no matter our discipline.

    The professional troops, emboldened by their reinforcements, make a desperate charge at our lines in an attempt to break us. And I will not allow it. I throw out my magic and catch my soldiers, not a man of them will run. The conscripts hit our flank, the Wolves hit our front. My men don¡¯t run. They die.

    One of the conscripts, a young looking man with brown hair and the first little hints of a mustache charges at me. I shoot him and he falls, and the next brown haired, peach-fuzzed conscript jumps over his body to charge at me. I slash that one across the chest and he falls, and the next brown haired, peach fuzzed conscript awkwardly navigates the bodies to attack me. I stab him, throwing him to the ground upon his comrades. My heart hurts.

    The fear that I deny my soldiers is tearing into me, it makes it hard to hold up my sword. The smell is starting to get to me, the noise of screams and clashes. At least the Lions in their bravery die silently, but that means I have to bear their screams on my heart. As I struggle with disorientation and pain, another conscript, a graying old man who struggles to even shamble towards me, raises his bayonet, eager to end me. And if I die, the fear returns to my men. They¡¯ll flee. I can¡¯t let them flee.

    I raise my sword as best I can¡­ And the conscript falls to the ground, blood spilling from a hole in his chest. The conscripts are running, or falling in droves. What¡¯s¡­ Happening?

    ¡°Serena!¡±

    I feel Pasche crash against my body before I see or hear her, or indeed the cavalry crashing into the Magyar conscripts, sending them flying. They had broken formation to charge us, they were but lambs to the slaughter for trained cavalry. The Wolves, the professional soldiers of the Magyar army, were fleeing for their lives, abandoned by their conscript reinforcements they realized they couldn¡¯t win and they shattered. The Lions chase them down, and my magic¡¯s grip upon them wanes. Their fear is their own again, but so is their thirst for payback.

    Oh, and Pasche is holding me. She¡¯s holding me tightly.

    ¡°Serena, say something. Serena!¡± She¡¯s shaking me, does she think I¡¯m dead?

    ¡°Pasche¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh thank gods!¡±

    She squeezes me tightly, her face buried in my neck. I can feel tears forming in her eyes. And I, Serena Pollineux, holds her back. I cry, I¡¯m not a monster any longer- Wait.

    ¡°Pasche¡­ What happened at the Manor House? Is it safe?¡±

    ¡°The Manor House?¡± Pasche looks confused that I¡¯d even ask, awkwardly scratching the back of her head. ¡°I mean, I think they were mounting an attack on it but¡­ You needed me. Certainly more than Lazierte and her 505th did-¡±

    ¡°You¡­ You left her alone?!¡±

    ¡°She can handle herself, she doesn''t need me! You did- Serena!¡±

    I rise to my feet, I have to rally the troops, I need to send them to support¡­ They¡¯ve all gone forward without me, not waiting for their commanding officer to finish cuddling a cuirassier in chasing down the fleeing Magyars¡­ Then I¡¯ll just need to rescue Lazierte alone! Pasche quickly scrambles to her feet to follow me, looking at me quizzically.

    My sword is in my hand, I¡¯m ready. ¡°I need to go rescue Lazierte. I need to protect her-¡±

    ¡°Serena, you need to be taken to a Cotton Tent. You¡¯re covered in blood-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not mine! But it¡¯ll be Lazierte¡¯s blood on my hands if my abandonment gets her killed, Pasche! ¡­ I can¡¯t bear that. I need to save her.¡±

    Pasche sighs, and gets back on her horse, offering me a hand up. ¡°Then I guess we need to save her. Come on.¡±

    I feel reluctant to take Pasche¡¯s hand. I¡¯m dragging her into this rescue too, putting her in danger. But I¡¯m not going to be able to run back to the Manor House on my own, and also I¡¯m a solitary person who is hardly going to accomplish anything charging at Magyar conscripts on my own. Pasche has cavalry at her back, ones that were patient enough to wait for her to finish cuddling a useless failure of General in a field. I¡¯ll need them.

    I sheathe my sword and accept Pasche¡¯s hand, and am pulled onto her horse, seated behind her. She rides off at a full gallop, and I have to hold her closely to stay upright. I can feel more little holes and dents in her cuirass against my chest¡­ I can feel warmth and softness where my arms wrap around Pasche¡¯s waist. She smells nice, even caked in sweat as she is, or possibly because of it, and leaning in and pressing my cheek against her upper back I can feel her hair. It feels nice. This feels nice¡­ I like the feeling of touching her. I want more. I want much more.

    I have become shameless in the absence of my goddess, these are not thoughts a monster, a General should be having! These thoughts might kill her. Or might make her push me away.

    As the Manor House approaches and I feel the horse begin to slow I throw myself off it, rolling when I fall and coming out of it mostly unscathed. I couldn¡¯t let myself be absorbed by Pasche, I had to be a General again.

    I am met by hundreds of corpses. Many Avernians, but many, many more Magyars. Of the troops under Lazierte¡¯s regiment, the 505th, there couldn¡¯t have been more than two survivors out of every five. They fought to the death, and the survivors don¡¯t look even the least bit unsettled. Any other men would have run, unless under the influence of some magic.

    I am soon met by Lazierte, who rushes over to see me. She¡¯s¡­ She¡¯s okay! I run over to greet her, it¡¯s not even a conscious process. I run¡­ And then I trip on a dead conscript, a man who appears to have been blasted to pieces by a grenade. Lazierte reaches me and offers me a hand to help me up from among the dead folks. I take it, and she pulls me into an embrace. Oh no, I need to stop this right now¡­ But I already know that Lazierte can hold me tightly, too tightly for me to escape. And too sweetly for me to resist. Shamefully, I return the embrace. I can almost feel Lazierte¡¯s smile, and I can hear it in her voice.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ You¡¯re safe! Thank the gods you are safe! When I saw the conscripts charging at your position I was so worried, but I couldn¡¯t do anything! We were being pressed here and¡­ I¡¯m so sorry I couldn¡¯t save you.¡±

    ¡­ My failure would have provoked her into the thick of the fighting, would have made her abandon her post if she were able. And I felt so confident before, so in command. I almost hurt her. She is smiling for my safety, but I want to weep for almost causing her pain.

    Pasche rides up beside us, dismounting her horse while trying not to trample the bodies beneath our feet. ¡°Oh good, everyone¡¯s safe, do you girls want to get out of the corpse yard now?¡±

    Lazierte lets me free from her embrace, but takes my hand in hers, and addresses Pasche with a very awkward pout. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s a good idea¡­ Thank you, Mademoiselle Pasche. For protecting Serena when I couldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome I guess. Hehe, all in the work of a brave and noble knight, y¡¯know?¡±

    ¡°... Right.¡±

    Lazierte and Pasche accompany me away from the corpses, away from the Manor. Lazierte gives it a fond look as we make her leave, before returning her attention solely to me.

    Looking back at the main battle from our vantage point, the Magyars have collapsed into a total rout. We¡¯ve won, the Magyars are so eager to flee that they are fighting each other just to fit on the narrow stone bridge. Others jump into the river and try to swim across, often failing. And the men on the other side of the bridge retreat, abandoning the chaos ahead of them. The Magyar commanders don¡¯t much care what becomes of their conscripts apparently, so long as they themselves are able to withdraw in good order.

    There are so many bodies.

    The sight is worthy of a monster.

 Chapter Forty Six

    I have a medal upon my uniform jacket. A Lion¡¯s head with crossed swords, for bravery under fire. Antoine was utterly ecstatic with my performance in the Battle of the Po River, ¡®allowing¡¯ myself to be attacked on two sides to make an opening for Pasche¡¯s cavalry to exploit the gaps and hit infantry out of position. So ecstatic he insisted I be decorated, and the regiments under my command be commended for staying in position even in a situation of great peril. So now I have a medal upon my uniform jacket.

    One which Lazierte and Pasche look upon nervously as we plan the siege of Medhelanon. But we all say nothing. I can¡¯t bring myself to admit that I bungled my first command with my impetuousness and almost had the left wing of the army collapse, nor is Pasche going to admit that she explicitly defied orders to save my life, with no consideration for the ¡®brilliance¡¯ of her maneuvers. And Lazierte? She¡¯s appreciating the displeasure of Antoine¡¯s other officers, who look upon my new ¡®honor¡¯ with jealous eyes and upon my person with barely disguised distaste¡­ I used to be such an honest girl before. Now here I am, holding onto secrets, from my own brother. From my friends. From the troops. Is there no dishonor that I am above?

    Trying to simply stay quiet and survive the planning meeting for the assault of Medhelanon might have been dull if not for the agony of trying to hold onto a shame and project a triumph. Foolishly I consider praying to the gods for the quiet to be over, for anything to distract from this feeling.

    Naturally, the gods provide.

    So does Pasche. "Don''t you fucking dare do this, Antoine!"

    Oh dear, I appear to have missed something. Or possibly caused something by daring to think of the gods. Pasche looks about ready to strangle Antoine, and isn¡¯t looking to remove her gloves first.

    And Antoine¡¯s very strangleable face isn¡¯t helping matters."Pasche, the cavalry are being sent to harass the Magyar flanks. You are the cavalry. Do your job-"

    "My job is to protect my girl- My general!"

    This is a meeting to discuss tactics. All the army¡¯s officers are here in the command tent. They''re watching this happen. They''re watching my second best friend teeter on the edge of treason, and watching my brother trying to push her there.

    "A Pollineux doesn''t require protection. And they certainly do not require insubordination!"

    "You haven''t seen her in three gods-damned years, Antoine! You wouldn''t know a thing about her!"

    "Are you implying my sister is weak then, Pasche? That she is unworthy of our family name?"

    "Yes!- No!- ... Have you seen her scars?! The girl gets herself in trouble all the time!"

    It''s a little cute, seeing Pasche getting utterly tongue-tied trying to both protect me, and denigrate me to the point where I require her protection. She is right, of course, I''d be dead at least twice were it not for Pasche''s presence, her desire to defend me. The bold and stupid things I''ve done I could only survive because I had her.

    And all of them nearly got her killed.

    I rise from my chair at the big table full of maps. I''m sure there¡¯s a more official term for it, but that''s not my primary concern. Pasche¡¯s attention immediately falls on me, but Antoine remains focused on Pasche, about ready to formulate a counter-argument. It takes him a few moments to realize he''s being ignored. If Pasche is away from me, if Pasche can¡¯t die to protect me, then she¡¯ll have no need of suicidal bravery or self-destructive heroics. She¡¯ll be safer out there, with the cavalry.

    Now I just have to convince her to do so. ¡°Pasche¡­ You¡¯ll be most useful with the cavalry, harassing the Magyar army.¡±

    ¡°Serena?¡± Pasch looks devastated, betrayed even.

    It makes my jaw tremble just a little, but I have to remain vigilant, to protect her. ¡°You¡­ You¡¯ve more than proven your competence as a cavalry commander. We need you with them, we need every advantage we can get in this war.¡±

    ¡°... That¡¯s just because I can protect you.¡± She¡¯s mumbling, looking down at her feet, shrinking under my gaze.

    It takes every bit of my self-control to not protest her desire to protect me, to not loudly assert my need to protect her. ¡°Pasche, please, this protects the whole army. It keeps us all safe. Including you. And including me.¡±

    Pasche considers my words for a moment, and is struggling with an obvious frustration before she finally settles on something. ¡°... I want our day together.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ You want what?¡±

    ¡°In Alesia, we were going to spend the whole day together after that whole kerfuffle with the former High King. The Convention took that day from me. I want it back.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ You-¡±

    ¡°Conquer Medhelanon, and when I return to the army we will have a day together there. I¡¯m not sure what will be left once the dust settles, but I¡¯m certain we¡¯ll find something to do. Promise me, Serena.¡±

    Oh hell¡­ She looks desperate for this. For me. For disgusting, distressing, dishonorable me. Does she just love pain? Is that it? Why else would she insist on my presence, why else would she be willing to take bullets for me? Am I just her sadist? Surely not, right?

    ¡­ You have to be alive to be in pain, and this will help keep Pasche that way. ¡°I promise. When we conquer the city I shall spend an entire day with you upon your return. I swear upon-¡±

    My tongue catches in my throat¡­ I almost swore upon Her Majesty.

    ¡°Upon your family name?¡± Pasche, throwing me a lifeline, as always.

    ¡°Upon the name Pollineux. I swear. Upon the name Pollineux.¡±

    "Okay¡­¡± Pasche struggles to keep her arms to her sides, I think she¡¯s trying not to hug me. ¡°Fine, I''ll be your cavalry, I''ll kill any Magyar that dares try to make our day together awkward. But if you get shot or slashed or gods forbid, set on fire, I will never, ever forgive you."

    "... Be safe Pasche. Please."

    "I''ll be fine."

    She doesn''t seem happy at all. And yet, she just won, didn¡¯t she? She got her way, she got what she wanted. I know I have no right for her to be happy, by rights she should not be happy to have earned time alone in my presence. And yet, my stupid heart stings for her displeasure. I want her to want this. My stupid feelings refuse to act with honor.

    Antoine, trying to be helpful, gives Pasche a relieved smile. "You''re doing right by her, Mademoiselle Pasche. We need good cavalry officers the way we need air."

    "Don''t rub it in, Antoine..." She seethes at Antoine, but when her eyes catch me again she looks to be struck with a sudden pain. "Serena, I''ll... I''ll see you when I see you next."

    I want to call her back to my side. I bite my tongue and give Pasche a nod. My throat is not up to the task of telling Pasche ''goodbye'', but for her own good and mine, that''s exactly what I must communicate. She awkwardly makes her leave, she has her orders and now she''s actually going to carry them out. And that leaves the rest of us behind, ready to discuss the main event. The storming of Medhelanon. All it took to get here was making day plans with Pasche in front of the entire officer corps, including Lazierte. A Lazierte who has been staring at me oddly ever since Pasche mentioned ''scars''.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.With that little problem having been resolved Antoine gestures for me to retake my seat, and when I do so he continues our briefing. "Now, the main problem is going to be the city''s new fortifications. Last time we managed to take Medhelanon entirely by surprise, but it seems in the time since they retook it the Samnian army has decided to make it difficult for us."

    There is a brief sharp glance in Lazierte''s direction, one which she successfully manages to have no reaction to whatsoever. "According to our scouts they''ve built palisades into the outlying suburbs, and an inner ring in the city''s main square. The defenses are too closely integrated into the buildings themselves, there¡¯s not a cannon on Lutice accurate enough to break them without tearing the entire city apart."

    And turn the site of Pasche and I''s future plans into a pile of rubble. Tactical considerations aren''t meant to be made for the sake of preserving dates. And this is by far the easiest solution, the one that costs us the fewest troops. I should be advocating for it, why isn''t my mouth able to form these words?

    Antoine certainly has enough of them for the both of us, though it seems odd to hear him advocate for a suboptimal solution for humanist reasons. "And we would prefer to keep the city as intact as possible. Liberators and all. So we''ll have to storm those defenses as best we can. And quickly, before any Magyars can reform and try to attack us here."

    "Life would be so much simpler if we could spare the time for a siege, wouldn''t it?" Lazierte blithe little comment is ill-equipped to cover her obvious displeasure.

    "Life would be simpler if we didn''t have wars at all, Lazierte. But we were not put upon Lutice to do simple things." All machismo, my dear brother is. "... But we can''t just be wasting men against prepared firing positions. We need a plan, one that will see the men through this intact."

    Well, blowing them all to pieces from outside is apparently out, my consistently treacherous throat seems utterly determined to make that position impossible to argue, it apparently not being up to the task of being a general or a monster. So how do you storm fortifications in maneuver warfare? ... Didn''t I encounter something like this before?

    The castle. We made our way through that because of Katarina''s treachery as much as anything else. Which I assume isn''t an option again, no one''s going to open a path for us ''liberators'' so we can establish that ''Samnian Republic'' Antoine¡¯s so keen on. So I suppose it must be time to actually put my plan to the test.

    "If we cautiously advance on one side, the enemy will bring up their reserves to meet us. Then we can rapidly advance on the other three sides before they can redeploy. Mass troops on the opposite side with diversionary attacks on the flanks, we might be able to force a breakthrough, and from there we can take their exterior fortifications from both ends. Roll the enemy positions up and then all march on the central square together..." Almost the entire population of the tent appears to be staring at me, I think they might be annoyed to hear me speak, to take any of my brother¡¯s attention. "I believe that''s likely the most prudent plan to keep damage in the city to a minimum."

    Antoine ravenously consumes my words and finds reason to smile in them. "Now that is a plan a Pollineux would come up with! Yes, I believe this might just work perfectly. If I take the front I can draw the fire of the enemy while minimizing casualties. They''re likely to throw everything they can muster to try and halt the advance of the ''Messiah of Steel'', completely oblivious to the threat posed by the other Pollineux! It''s absolutely perfect!"

    The officers cheer for the plan now that it¡¯s come out of the mouth of Antoine. Apparently a plan is only worth listening to if it comes from the mouth of their... ''Messiah of Steel''?

    Lazierte asks before I can. "Messiah of Steel? Antoine, are you making up titles again?"

    "Yes. Do you like it?" The way Antoine grins at Lazierte implies he knows the answer already.

    "It''s dumber than the last one, future historians are going to make fun of you."

    "Oh Lazierte, you are so cruel to me." And yet Antoine looks remarkably satisfied for someone being pilloried. "Alright, Lazierte you will lead the troops on the eastern flank of the city, here. You and your regiment only be performing diversionary actions, so do not engage too aggressively and wait for Serena''s troops to-"

    "Only diversionary actions? Antoine, your sister is going to be in there alone!"

    "... Lazierte, she will have an army."

    "Yes but-"

    "She proved herself more than capable in our prior battle with the Magyars, I believe she will be just as effective here. I have the utmost confidence in her abilities as a leader, and as a soldier. I must confess, I find your lack of faith to be more than a little disconcerting, Lazierte. Surely you must see that Serena is the best person for this role, right?"

    "... If she gets hurt-"

    "I will take full responsibility, Colonel. I have the utmost faith in her."

    ¡°No amount of blame splitting will heal her wounds, Antoine.¡±

    Lazierte eventually withdraws again, now simply staring at me, her eyes lost in my form. Is she looking for my scars? The slash on my shoulder, the entry wound on my chest¡­ Should I show her? Put her mind at ease? ¡­ Unbuttoning my dress in Lazierte¡¯s presence is probably a mistake, as friendly as she¡¯s likely to interpret it. Something about the idea makes my heart quicken and my mouth water in anticipation, and these are the signs of a bad plan.

    If Antoine is picking up on any of my internal crises and Lazierte¡¯s misplaced concern, he¡¯s very good at not showing it. "Now, if we have no more objections to our plans, I believe we should see to our troops. The attack will commence at 0100 hours."

    This plan pisses off Lazierte all over again. "Tonight? We''re attacking tonight?!"

    And admittedly, I am more than a little trepidatious myself. "At night? This plan takes a fair bit of coordination, and if we can''t use our cannons then how are we on the flanks and at the rear supposed to know when to begin our advance?"

    "We might not be using our cannons, but the Samnians will probably be using theirs the moment they know we''re coming. Listen for the sounds of their guns, then charge." Antoine''s voice is all business until some pride slips through. "Perhaps I ought to give a speech for the men before the palisade, so the Samnians know just who they''re dealing with. They might not be able to see my regimental colors in the dark."

    "This still doesn''t seem like the most foolproof plan-"

    "Just giving us every possible advantage, sis. Disorient the enemy and it''ll ensure they''ll not be able to organize in time to mobilize effectively on four fronts. These Samnians are actually motivated, and they''re not half bad in a fair fight. So best practice is to not give them one."

    "... I understand." Even if it doesn''t precisely make me any more confident in moving at night, memories of being shot at by my own garrison at the oppidum in Germany are still fresh in my mind. "I''ll get the men prepared then! It''s best we get this over with quickly, right?"

    "Best we do everything quickly, Serena. Best we do everything quickly."

    Antoine is clearly amused, humming a little to himself as he gestures for Lazierte and his other officers to see to their regiments. Dutifully the officers left to get to their duty. Including Lazierte, although she hesitates. She gave me an almost piteous look, she¡¯s terrified... I have to protect her, no matter what I must protect her.

    When she and the other officers are gone I feel a hand on my shoulder, and it takes a moment to realize that Antoine is trying to comfort me. "She''ll eventually understand. She''ll learn what a Pollineux is capable of."

    "... She looks so terrified." My words just slip out of me, it¡¯s shameful to denigrate Lazierte this way.

    "She''s always been a cautious sort, that girl. It''s possibly the least cute aspect of her- Ah, but I shouldn''t say such things about your wife, should I?"

    Another uncomfortable little stirring in my heart, this idea is still dangerous. "We aren''t married, brother. We literally can''t be-"

    "Oh hush, what Pollineux would let something as trivial as Gods or a priesthood get in their way?" He chuckles, but turns oddly serious. "Somehow I didn''t notice before, but you being... As you are? It does explain some things. Hehe, I''m halfway certain at least two of my previous failed conquests may have had eyes for you more than they did me."

    "Brother, I''m nine years younger than you!" As nice as it was that he¡¯s taking this well, this little revelation is a bit embarrassing. "I didn''t even know this about myself until I went to the Military Academy..."

    And witnessed Her Majesty. Have I been breaking people''s hearts since even before I met Katje? Have I been a blasphemer from the beginning?  Do I just cause pain wherever I go?

    "I don''t know what to tell you, I think they saw something in you they didn''t see in me." Antoine shrugs, before ruffling my hair. "Something no one can take from you. And one avenue in which you have bested me thoroughly. I''m certain you''ll do amazing things with that gift of yours, Sister."

    "... You''re never one to give pep talks, brother. Is something the matter? Are you dying?"

    "I''m merely a very selfish man, Serena. If I''m to lose to you, I must make it known that you are the very best." There is almost something genuinely charming and charmingly genuine in his smile, something that probably would serve him better if it were more present in his life. "Of course, that means I have much to teach you before you can surpass me on a battlefield. This battle will be just another step."

    "Antoine..."

    I can''t help but give my stupid brother a hug. I couldn''t imagine him giving me such a vote of confidence before, and I couldn''t imagine anyone else in my family who would. And it¡¯s all built on a lie. I made a mistake at the Po River, Pasche had to bail me out, and that left Lazierte vulnerable! If her soldiers were any less willing to fight to the death she¡¯d have been overrun, she could have been killed! My failures, my sins, must be redeemed. As useless as I am, I can at least take a bullet for Lazierte if I must. I can protect her, I can do better, I must do better. I must not disappoint. I must take Medhelanon.

    I must be a Pollineux. A Pollineux as competent and beloved as my brother can be ¡®The Messiah of Steel¡¯. All her sinful little sister can be is the Monster of Kerska.

 Chapter Forty Seven

    Tonight is a moonless night, the kind which comes along every once and a while and reminds you what darkness truly looks like. Something that might have been serene, if I didn''t have over four thousand infantry at my back, relying on me for orders. We try our hardest to move and co-ordinate quietly, to act as a stealthy predator stalking around the city of Medhelanon, to deploy where they will be most vulnerable. But each beat of our drums is a low growl as we circle our prey, each blast of the horn is a hiss.

    Standing amongst it, I can''t imagine how we could possibly not have been noticed. But there¡¯s no obvious movement in the city itself, no attempt to redeploy or sound an alarm. We can see any move they make, the lights their sentries carry and the braziers upon their observation posts are the only things we can see clearly on our midnight redeployment. They¡¯re somehow blissfully unaware of our movement, and somewhere along our march I am left wondering if perhaps I have managed to re-earn the approval of some Gods somewhere along the way. I have no idea how, every day proves me more of a disgrace.

    Katarina is having a difficult time remaining quiet, even if she¡¯s apparently more than capable of seeing in the pitch blackness and leading her troops through it. Xena, contrary to my advice and later to my pleading, has decided to join us on the field in order to keep Katarina relatively calm and sedate during this action... I realize as we are almost in position that I miss Pasche something terribly.

    Only, I am certain that she would do the opposite of helping me keep quiet. At least by the time my troops reconnect with those of Lazierte we will officially be in the louder stages of our plan.

    The soldiers manage to arrive at our jumping off point, now it is simply a matter of correctly arranging them. Sappers and Grenadiers at the front to storm and destroy the palisade, fusiliers behind to surge forth and take the suburbs, riflemen behind them to harass anyone who might think to counter-attack. The plan seemed foolproof enough, except for the part where Katarina''s Leather Priests refuse to go second. I guess we''ll be finding out if their leather bayonets do any good against wooden fortifications...

    There''s a moment of calm as we wait for the signal to attack. A moment in which I know I can run away, be spared this, spare everyone this. But somehow, I feel more scared of running away than of attacking. I have resolved to be the creature that would attack, that would kill so others could live, surely this possibility of fleeing is itself more wicked and cruel¡­ So I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m okay. I am more than capable of doing this-

    ¡°Serena. You¡¯re shaking.¡± Xena pokes my cheek to get my attention, I¡¯m not sure if that means something or not. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°... I¡¯m not shaking-¡±

    ¡°You are.¡±

    She¡¯s correct. I¡¯d been looking forward and trying to ignore it, but every inch of me doesn¡¯t want to stand right here. My nerves are disobedient, calling my legs to sin.

    ¡°... I guess that I am. Sorry.¡±

    Xena flicks my forehead, she looks more annoyed than she usually does when she ¡®corrects¡¯ my behavior. ¡°No apologizing¡­ Understanding. Are you okay?¡±

    I have to be okay, why is my body making it so hard? Maybe I¡¯m worried for Xena? ¡°¡­You probably should be waiting back at camp. This isn''t safe."

    "No, it isn''t safe. That''s why you''re here, and that''s why I''m here." The look she gives me seems to imply that she thinks I''m an idiot, and honestly I must be one if I¡¯ve offended her this much. "Nothing about any of this is safe so we should be sticking together where possible."

    "... You''re displeased with me."

    "I''m displeased with what isn''t you, General Pollineux."

    Her non-sequiturs always manage to carry more ice than I ever assumed words were capable of. I have no idea what she means but whatever it is carries such intense significance that it hurts to even hear it. Katarina is staring at the two of us in intense confusion, even through the language barrier she clearly knows enough to know something significant and wildly confusing is happening before her.. She whispers something in German to Xena, who whispers something back. And suddenly Katarina is smiling at me, and says something gentle and sweet that I cannot even begin to parse. Xena gives me a look, a subtle indicator that she has absolutely no intention of translating what Katarina just said...

    And then the Samnian guns on the other side of the city begin to sing. Shouts soon follow.

    Our cue to attack. The drums beat like the gallop of horses, the trumpets blare loud enough for the gods to hear, and Katarina can finally be loud. The fusiliers advance, the riflemen advance, the sappers and grenadiers charge. And the Leather fanatics sprint, screaming prayers and insults in German. And I break into a run to follow, they¡¯re running ahead of schedule! This almost got us all killed on the Po River, I need to stop them somehow!

    The sentries on the palisade quickly find the priests barrelling down on them. They ring the alarm and man the palisade, preparing to hold their wall until help could arrive. Katarina kicks over part of the wall in a single strike, which quickly disabuses the enemy of that notion. The Greenjackets pour into the new hole in the palisade, and as I approach I hear the wet squelches of body parts hitting the ground, and the sharp sound of screams soon silenced. I followed into the new hole in the wall, and found the enemy position inside had already descended into chaos. Katarina gives a powerful scream, one which makes me feel dizzy and ill, and can probably be heard across the city. Her booming words are in German, but I can tell what they mean. It¡¯s obvious in her smirk, this scream is a challenge to every Samnian in the city to face the bear woman in combat.

    The palisade is now covered in dead and dying men, the Samnians are braver than the Magyar conscripts and are willing to hold their ground to the last man, the last morsel of flesh in their garrison. The Leather Priests have themselves clearly taken losses as well, and the time it takes for them to butcher their dead comrades into appropriate cuts of meat allows the sappers and grenadiers who were supposed to take the front to catch up, and see the carnage that they had missed. These are professional, well-drilled troops, they wouldn''t flinch at a cannon being aimed point-blank at them, and they are terrified. They won''t be able to continue the storming like this. I cast my magic over them, I need these men to be without fear...

    Taking away the fear of the soldiers was, in fact, a terrible decision. Possessed by bravery the troops give a cheer and soon pour forth into the city, axes and grenades at the ready to destroy anything that dares stand in their way. I have to start running again to catch them, everyone is charging ahead of schedule and I do not appreciate it! Katarina and her Greenjackets join this stupid, impromptu charge, and at this point we are irreversibly pot-committed. At least this means we might be able to support Lazierte more quickly.

    We pass through the suburbs relatively undisturbed, most folk have the good sense to remain in their homes and not try to resist the Avernian troops who are now stalking their streets. Some scattered Samnian soldiers do attempt to block our passage, but they are quickly shot to pieces by the courage drunk troops, or hacked to death by the Priests. This is¡­ Going smoothly. Maybe this blunder will work to our advantage after all.

    ... I hear shouting. Very authoritative shouting from nearby. Some man on a horse, shouting something in a language I don''t understand. It¡¯s annoying, but it¡¯s also utterly insane. This is a warzone now, doesn¡¯t he know how dangerous this is?

    Why have all the windows in town opened?

    The troops are suddenly pelted with rocks, kitchen utensils, just about anything that the nearby civilians have to hand, as cityfolk surge from their homes with whatever weapons they could find.

    It¡¯s as if the entire population of Medhelanon has been driven mad all at once.

    They throw everything they have, including themselves, upon our soldiers in a desperate attempt to halt our advance... And what does a courage-drunk soldier do when an enemy presents themselves?

    The shooting begins, and the explosions follow soon after, as grenadiers answer the thrown cookery with thrown grenades. Sappers hack men apart as they approach with their makeshift weapons raised, the city road starts to run red with blood. This disorganized resistance is cut down with ease, it¡¯s pathetic. The houses lining the city street catch fire, turns out throwing grenades into people¡¯s homes at night is liable to ignite some things¡­ I can hear them in there. The ones who threw things at us, and their children. They¡¯re burning.

    Our soldiers have been mauled, but our assailants have been slaughtered, and the last of them are now fleeing for their lives from a hopeless fight. I see the troops at the front aim their muskets at the fleeing civilians¡­ Surely it¡¯s what they deserve, right? These people attacked us, the soldiers deserve justice. A monster would hold her tongue, a monster would let them fire¡­

    "Soldiers, with- Draw?"

    I feel a sharp pain between my ribs, and turn my head to find that a young man has plunged a kitchen knife into my side. He must have been waiting in the burning ruins of the houses, waiting to strike.

    He looks no older than seventeen, the age I was when I had been sent to the military academy. He¡¯s shaking, he¡¯s terrified. He knows he won¡¯t survive this, I can see that clearly, and yet he thrusts the knife deeper, determined to kill me.

    He is dead very soon after, a halberd descending upon him and cutting him in half sideways. Whatever motivated him disappears from the world as the meat slides apart. His remains fall¡­ And so do mine, crumpling to the ground among the corpses, seized by an ice-cold pain. I shiver, I¡¯m just another one of the corpses here.

    Katarina is determined to see more corpses join me, giving a bellowing scream that stops some of the fleeing civilians dead in their tracks before she leaps upon them, followed by her loyal priests. She isn''t making clean cuts anymore, this is wrath¡­

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.She¡¯s trying to avenge me, isn¡¯t she?

    I can¡¯t say I deserve it. Then again, I haven¡¯t harmed her as much as anyone else, have I? ¡­ I dragged her into the Art Gallery, I almost got her set on fire, absolutely got her shot, brought her into conflict with her brother... She has always shown me a smile, but I have never known her words or what she thinks. Have I wronged her too?

    Somehow the wondering makes the knife wound feel almost pleasant. It¡¯s an ending, a little piece of finality. Life is slowly leaving this odious thing I embody. It¡¯s almost over. It feels¡­ Serene.

    "Serena!¡±

    ¡­ Am I looking at an angel?

    The firelight of the burning city illuminates the woman kneeling over me with an impossible beauty. Her dark brown hair is downright radiant and the brightness of her eyes rivals the blaze around us. Reaching over me, attending to my body, it is impossible not to notice the curves beneath her simple, practical, yet still somehow slightly immodest dress, or the soft and vulnerable skin shown by its tantalizingly low collar. Pale skin made beautiful by the light of burning homes, her tender flesh invites my teeth-

    It¡¯s Xena¡­ It¡¯s Xena and she¡¯s gorgeous and she¡¯s kneeling in blood and bodies so she can attend to my wound. Oh gods, let me bleed to death on the street, I want her and only death will make me stop.

    "Xena... You don''t have to-"

    "Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up, you are bleeding and talking isn''t going to help you!" ... Is she crying?

    "I don''t deserve-"

    "I do not want to hear your excuses!" She''s almost as loud as Katarina, I have to wonder if she''s been getting lessons from our bear woman... Though her voice diminishes somewhat as she processes what I''m saying. "... You don''t get to decide what you deserve."

    "... But I''m a monster. I''m a monster who has done you wrong, who has made you upset for over a month.¡± Who hungers after you, and is failing to fight it... ¡°Anyone here is more deserving of your care than me-"

    "Well then fuck off and give me my Serena back! If you''re so unworthy of me then give me Serena!"

    Something else from her that I don¡¯t understand... But this isn''t cold and venomous like her confounding statements usually are. It¡¯s messy and confusing and did Xena just curse? She¡¯s weeping, another thing I didn''t know she was even capable of. I still have no idea how to answer this demand, all I can do is fall silent.

    I don''t flinch when Xena pulls the knife out of me, I do however wince as she applies a viscous liquid to the wound, which somehow hurts more than being stabbed itself did. Then, she bandages me up, taking special care to not let any of her tears fall on my wound. She¡¯s doing a remarkable job of it. She¡¯s honestly quite amazing, she deserves to be made happy.

    Wait¡­ I¡¯m going to live, aren¡¯t I?

    This concerns me, considering that I made Xena cry. It must be a sin to make a woman so beautiful cry.

    I can¡¯t bear to see her cry. I brave the pain to lean up and kiss her. She must have a piteous bone in her body somewhere for sinners and fools as she kisses me right back... She pushes me back down, allowing me to return to lying back down, much to the relief of my wound. Xena looks a lot more sure about this than she did when I kissed her back in Alesia. But she can¡¯t stand to look at me, and seeing her face I can see her frustration.

    "If you say that was just because I saved your life I will put the knife back in you, I swear." Xena manages to stop weeping, and the emotion drains from her face again. "I will not forgive you if you weren''t entirely Serena just now."

    "Entirely Serena?"

    Yet another thing that leaves me confused. And something I might have even had the opportunity to question had life not given me something else to be concerned about. Namely, that shouting man on his horse, screaming the exact same thing as last time, the one that had started this bedlam.

    Xena understands what he was saying at least, and she clearly does not approve. "Seems we¡¯ve stumbled upon the King of Samnia here. He''s demanding his subjects rise up to protect him from the foul Avernians."

    "... We aren''t all that foul." I don''t quite know what else you¡¯re meant to say in this situation.

    It briefly gives Xena a chuckle, before she looks forlornly over at the corpses we are surrounded by. "Demanding innocent civilians to die to save his skin, the very people he swore to protect. What a boring king..."

    Nothing about Xena looks bored right now, surrounded by all these bodies. At least we''ve managed to survive their onslaught, albeit barely. The troops hadn¡¯t been prepared for an ambush by the people of Medhelanon, they¡¯ve been quite badly mauled... Wait-

    "He''s... Calling people from other suburbs to come and fight for him... And we''re the ones inside the wall. The next wave of them will be headed straight for us."

    With absolute horror I realize that the butchery is going to crash against us again, and the troops here aren''t prepared for it. And our second and third waves of troops must have gone down different roads, we haven¡¯t been reinforced, we¡¯ll be overrun! We''re going to get slaughtered, we''re all going to-

    "Xena... Take the troops and get out of here."

    Xena flicks my forehead, hard.

    "No, really Xena. They''re going to be coming straight for us and if you''re here when they do then-"

    Xena flicks my forehead again, hard.

    "I... I can''t protect you like I am now! I''m hurt, and I can''t fight the entire population of Medhelanon for you! I''m sorry! You... You need to go-"

    Xena flicks my forehead once again, harder.

    "Please... I can''t keep you safe here. The best I can do is buy you time to run-"

    "Do you think I stand by your side for your protection?"

    I struggle to find the words to respond to this, and Xena flicks my increasingly sore forehead one last time. Shots ring out. The Avernian troops still standing are beset by the people of Medhelanon, holding them off as best they can with the last of their bullets and grenades. I realize with some horror that my magic was stripped from them soon after I was stabbed, I simply couldn¡¯t maintain it and it was the last thing from my mind as soon as I felt the serenity of death. My troops here will die, and they will die screaming.

    And yet none of them run. They hold a line ahead of me, they¡¯re protecting me just as the civilians are protecting their king. Xena, poor Xena, has even grabbed a musket from a fallen soldier and prepared to brace herself to fire it. Surely she of all people can tell this is absurd, she can''t save herself or me like this! ... She won''t even die for me, she will simply die to be with me. My final sin, as long as I draw breath I will make these beautiful, wonderful people die.

    I roll over onto my stomach, much to Xena''s shock and my own agony. I take one of the fallen muskets myself, aiming it forward. If Xena can do it, so can I. It¡¯s a useless gesture, no god or decent person will forgive me for murdering Xena, but if I can buy her even a second longer then it¡¯s worth it.

    The mob slowly carves through the last line of defenses around me, some begin to slip through and charge at Xena and I. I shoot the first one, even wounded and lying on the street I can still hit a man-sized target at 10 yards. Xena fires at the second, and she manages to hit true unlike last time. I can¡¯t reload like this, I have done everything I can. I wish I could feel that same sensation of peace that came over me before, but now that Xena is going to die with me all I feel is shame, compounded by the knowledge that I am a complete waste of good bandages and good friends.

    "505th! Show no mercy!" ... Lazierte?

    The crack of a musket volley makes everything in the world freeze. Causality itself is paralyzed by a shock that is only broken by another thunderous rapport of gunfire. Firing by rank, soldiers pour shot into the mob, making them fall in droves.

    It¡¯s enough to break them out of whatever delusion had them fighting professional soldiers for the sake of some shouting man on a horse who claimed to be their king.

    They flee, and the men of the 505th chase them down and make them pay for their little uprising against us. The suspiciously high number of men from the 505th, more than half of whom I remember having died outside the Manor House in the Po River Valley. These numbers don¡¯t add up, that or I¡¯m not seeing straight due to blood loss. But it hardly matters now, we¡¯ve been saved! Somehow we have been saved! Lazierte approaches the handful of my advance troops who have survived, doing the professional work of asking them what in the hell happened here. Her inquiries cease when she finds me among the bodies.

    "S... Serena!"

    She bowls over a confused sapper in her attempt to rush over to me, and is seconds away from cradling my limp and useless body before she¡¯s stopped by Xena, who puts herself between Lazierte and I.

    "Serena''s condition is stable but she is still badly injured. I must request that you not do anything that might agitate her wounds."

    Lazierte stops in place for a moment, before gently kneeling down among the corpses around me and taking my hand, holding it tightly. "... What did they do to you? Serena, what did they do to you?"

    I try my best to rub my thumb over the back of her hand, but my hand disobeys and refuses to give the comforting gesture. "It was a kid. Like we were. Fighting for his sovereign... Where is the king? We need to stop him from calling for anyone else to ''defend'' him."

    "I''m sorry, the king?!" Lazierte is clearly taken aback, but after a flick on her forehead from Xena she manages to at least restrain her volume. "... The actual king of Samnia was here? Where?"

    Xena spares me having to give an explanation, putting a hand on my mouth to discourage me from speaking any further. "Shouting man on a horse, keeps screaming in Samnian for the people to defend him."

    "... I think I saw a man on a horse, flanked by other riders, trying to slip past my troops and outside the walls. I didn''t bother to stop him, I couldn''t waste any time in trying to support Serena''s troops. Thank goodness I chose right..."

    Well... The king escaped. But at least he can''t incite any more of the people of Medhelanon to fight us here. Some civilians might even survive this! ... Presuming we could finish this battle before the city burns. The fires from our fight with the civilian population have started to spread to other streets,, and we can''t exactly fight fires while we are still fighting Samnians. I try to rise to my feet, I need to command the troops to take the rest of the palisade, to seize the city center, to finish this. I need to do this... So why am I so useless?

    Xena notices my attempt at motion, and rather than the usual forehead flicks she slaps me. "Stay. Put! Do I have to tie you up myself?!"

    "I have to take command again! I have to... I have to put an end to this fighting, I-"

    Lazierte rubs her thumb over the back of my hand with ease, giving me the best smile she can muster given the circumstances. "I''ll do it. I''ll take over from here. I may not be a Pollineux but... Well, I can be one tonight, as you require."

    She¡¯s blushing, but quickly steels herself, making herself as resolute as possible... My sin again, now Lazierte has to wander the world of violence in my place, just as I had forced Xena to. Poor Lazierte, poor beautiful Lazierte, poor beautiful, caring, loving, tempting Lazierte-

    I need to get up or bleed to death trying, I cannot allow her to endanger herself when I¡¯m still not dead-

    Xena slips something into my mouth, and since I am a perfectly abnormal girl I quickly swallow whatever it is... My vision quickly fades and my eyelids become heavy. An almost tangible darkness swallows my limbs, my chest, and is encroaching upon my head. The city fades from view, and sounds are further and further away...

    "Xena, was it? I can trust you to get Serena out of here safely, can''t I?"

    "Of course... And I can trust you to put an end to this ridiculous fighting, can''t I, Madam Pollineux?"

    "... You can count on me to win the entire war."

 Chapter Forty Eight

    I hunger.

    This time I¡¯m stalking through the core of Triumph Square, slipping in between market stalls, darting across the walkways to avoid the eyes of my prey. I catch only the smallest glimpses of my prize, a hint of white hair, the glint of metal, the sway of a skirt. But I can hear her. Her heartbeat is all I can focus on, the pumping of her blood is thunderous and inescapable, fresh and warm and rightfully mine. I¡¯m getting closer, I can smell her sweet scent and my mouth salivates in anticipation. And she is still none the wiser, simply standing around in the center of the Square, vulnerable and perfect. I¡¯m almost upon her now, I charge. She turns to face me, I pounce, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her violently onto the cobblestones¡­

    And I bite deeply into Pasche¡¯s neck, the flesh tender and the blood divine. I swallow, and only now do I know just how parched I have been, how deprived. How much I need from her. I lap at the blood greedily, tongue pressing the torn and punctured flesh to press out more. She moans below me, and I drink that too.

    I want more. I withdraw my teeth from her neck and straddle her hips, looking upon the pathetic, helpless, and utterly enraptured girl beneath me with a bloodstained smile. I rake my nails across her cuirass, tearing the metal apart with ease, and carving a wound which exposes her beating heart. I feel a stirring beneath me, Pasche¡¯s arousal is undeniable and she looks pleadingly up at me as I stare transfixed at the thumping at her core.

    ¡°Serena¡­ Take my heart.¡±

    I wake up screaming.

    I try to flee, but my limbs are tied to the bed on which I lay. I scream again¡­ But I swallow it once I see Lazierte. She had, until a few moments ago, been sleeping on an armchair by my bedside, holding my hand. Now she is terrified and awake in an armchair by my bedside, and is squeezing my hand tightly.

    ¡°Serena?!¡± Lazierte¡¯s eyes are darting over me, trying to find out what¡¯s caused this sudden outburst. ¡°Are you hurt? What happened?!¡±

    I try to reassure Lazierte, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth are ragged, short breaths. I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯m able to reassure myself in my current state! Lazierte quickly undoes the bindings on my wrists and ankles before returning her attention to me, awkwardly grasping my hand.

    ¡°Uhhh¡­ It¡¯s okay! It¡¯s okay, Serena¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m here!¡±

    I slowly get a handle on my breathing, at least until I make the mistake of trying to move my legs. I¡¯m utterly soaked. For the first time since dreaming of Her Majesty. Oh gods, I was dreaming of Pasche, wasn¡¯t I? And Lazierte was here, possibly the entire time, holding my hand throughout¡­

    I have to force myself to speak, her close scrutiny is painful given the circumstances. ¡°I¡­ Am okay. I¡¯m okay, I just-¡±

    ¡°Bad dream?¡±

    ¡­ Did she know?

    I nod, maybe she doesn¡¯t know, and I can pretend this was an ordinary nightmare. ¡°Yeah, scary dream. Not fun. Not fun at all.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I wish I could have done more.¡± Lazierte sounds legitimately guilty over me having had a dream. "I wanted to share the bed with you, it always helped me with my bad dreams, maybe it might have helped you. Xena wouldn''t allow it though, said she didn''t want to ''reward bad behavior''. She only let me be this close because I convinced her that you might need supervision since the bindings aren''t up to par... Hehe, I guess I don''t know my way around a rope nearly as well as that ''Pasche'' girl does."

    There¡¯s still clearly some bitterness there still, but I''d frankly prefer not to think about that right now. Because if I think too much about it, it might just be unavoidable. I want the people I care about to get along, maybe they can comfort one another after I die. After all, Xena will not be joining us on the field of battle again if I can help it. Everything would fit perfectly, Lazierte can rescue Her Majesty in the way I failed to, Pasche can take care of Xena and Katarina can take care of Pasche, and Xena can take care of Pasche and Katarina and Theophania. All I have to do is keep them alive, keep them safe. And I can''t do that from bed.

    "Serena, are you okay? You¡¯re being very quiet¡­" Lazierte squeezes my hand and looks over me with intense concern.

    No amount of thinking is getting my tired arms and tender legs out of bed. All it¡¯s doing is worrying Lazierte, which is the very last thing I want to be doing... How do I keep finding new ways to upset the people I love?

    "Serena, it''s okay. I''m here, you''re safe." Lazierte leans in close, trying her best to be reassuring, which is horribly unfair as I¡¯m the one who¡¯s worrying her! "... I took the city center, we won. I explained everything to your brother, he said he was proud of your courage and, after I slapped him for sending you into the fray like this, he also thanked me for saving you... We''re okay, you don''t have anyone to be fighting right now."

    "Where are we being deployed next?" Somehow in my self loathing I forgot about the actual war we were fighting. "What''s our next target?"

    "... Ravenna. Capital of the Kingdom of Samnia. Seems Antoine''s as reckless as ever."

    "When are we moving out? ... Why aren''t we already moving out?"

    "Eager, are we?" Lazierte chuckles, but it was clear she¡¯s more than a little displeased with me. "I swear, you''re as reckless as him. And sometimes almost as dense. We burned a decent chunk of the city down so he wanted to take a few days to ensure public order was maintained. That and he''s still waiting for the cavalry to return from their mission harassing the Magyar flanks and goading them into withdrawing... Oh, and you''re in a temple of Cotton and he seems genuinely concerned about making sure you get a chance to recover before sending you to war again. Not that he said as much out loud, stubborn creature that he is."

    "I guess I am both of those things, huh..."

    "Oh, don''t take it like that! ... Can ummm- Can I tell you something, Serena?"

    "Anything, Lazierte." Whatever it is, I surely deserve to hear it.

    "Being conscripted to the Military Academy was something that gave me some amount of joy, some amount of hope. I had nowhere to belong and no prospects on the streets of Bresta, but suddenly I had a path towards a future... But now that I''ve joined the army and found somewhere to belong because of it, I want nothing more than to escape it entirely. To take the place I belong out of the military with me, to run away somewhere peaceful and never have to risk our lives in conflict again."

    Lazierte must be talking about Her Majesty. The one who needs someone to run away with her, who would give Lazierte somewhere to belong to, someone who the Military Academy has given her... It stings, but this is supposed to be the right thing. Just like with Theophania, the painful thing must simply be the right thing, and the right thing must simply be painful. I just don''t know what hurts more. Knowing Her Majesty will be better off in the arms of another, or knowing that Lazierte will.

    "I think you should pursue it to the fullest, Lazierte. The one you''ve found, that you want to rescue from the conflict of our age? I really think you should save her."

    "You think so?!" Lazierte is practically over the moon, and that just makes it worse¡­ Her enthusiasm is distressingly beautiful. "Serena... Would you-"

    Lazierte is cut off by the door opening, with an irate-looking Xena, a victorious-looking Pasche, and a happy-go-lucky Katarina soon coming through it. All of whom look very concerned by how close Lazierte has gotten to me, their scrutiny making her quickly recoil, utterly flustered.

    Xena wanders over and flicked Lazierte''s forehead despite her sudden contrition. "It''s only been three days. Yes she''s on the mend but now is not the time for anything like that."

    "S... Sorry." Lazierte gives me something of a forlorn look, before withdrawing her hand from mine and leaving the room entirely, thoroughly embarrassed.

    Which makes Xena quite confused, looking at the now empty armchair Lazierte had sat upon. "... I didn''t tell her she had to leave..."

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    This left a space for Pasche to take Lazierte¡¯s place, and to examine my now undone bindings. "Who tied these? Clearly whoever did has never had to stable a horse, Serena got out without even trying."

    "That would be Lazierte." Xena is having difficulty maintaining her once seemingly automatic calm air. "Who has just left the room so I unfortunately can''t ask her to tie you up either."

    "These bindings wouldn''t hold me."

    "You were shot four times."

    "I''m fine!"

    "That you are fine is a medical miracle and as much a cause for alarm as you being seriously hurt."

    "The only thing I''m alarmed about is my girl- Our General getting nearly herself killed! Again!" Pasche turns her attention back my way, and then starts to tie me back up again. "Now I''m going to make absolutely sure you stay put and-"

    She reaches over me to reapply the bindings, and I panic immediately. What if she notices the shameless state of my legs? ¡­ What if I can¡¯t bear to have her touch without feeling the same thing? I have to stop her from getting too close. I have to say something. Anything. Literally anything!

    And naturally, I say something cruel. "How are we meant to spend the day together in Medhelanon if I''m tied up in bed?"

    This completely stops Pasche mid-knot and makes her audibly swallow before she manages to catch herself. "Some other day! One where you aren''t injured-"

    "You''re injured too, and you''re still walking around. Surely it''s hypocritical to not take your date- Day with me today, right?" ¡­ When did I get so good at masking my intentions?

    Pasche struggles to argue against my logic, trying to think of something to refute my bulletproof assertion. Xena meanwhile is grabbing some vials of a chemical solution from her belt... Only to be stopped by Katarina of all people, gently putting one of her hands upon Xena''s and whispering something in German. Something that Xena clearly found insightful and erudite and utterly infuriating, something which stops Xena from reaching for her drugs. Pasche decides against tying me back up, and offers me a hand to help me to my feet. One that I can¡¯t accept for the very same reason that she¡¯s offering. I really am good for nothing but hurting people who care about me.

    ¡°Uhhh¡­ I¡¯d umm¡­ I was wondering if I might be given a few minutes to get myself in order. I was asleep for a long time and I¡¯m sure I must be a mess.¡±

    Pasche gives me an uncertain look, as if she¡¯s second-guessing allowing me to join her outside, but ultimately withdraws to give me space, rather than pushing me back onto the bed, tying me up, and- ... Something about considering that hypothetical was starting to make my mind wander to Velvet places. Shameful places, the very same ones that dragged me into this situation. I need to focus on the present, on making sure I don¡¯t harm Pasche in any way today.

    She was apparently shot multiple times after all, she should not be doing nearly as well as she is right now and I shouldn''t be adding to those wounds. It¡¯d be irresponsible of me. Still, she seems perfectly lacking in pain as she leaves my side to wait for me outside the room, though not before noticing Katarina step forward to lean down and kiss me. She¡¯s over a foot taller than me even when I¡¯m standing up, so it does take a serious lean, and it is such a shock that I almost jump out of bed. And now my cheeks are red, what in the heck was that about?! Why did she do that? ... It was surprisingly gentle, the kind of thing I didn''t think the seven-foot-tall worshipper of death was capable of... But that¡¯s how it was. It was... Nice.

    She beams at me, clearly she knows exactly what she¡¯s doing and is getting something out of it. I''m not certain what though. My eyes dart to Xena, who also doesn''t have even a trace of confusion in her eyes as to what just happened, and oddly enough none of her recent ire for me.

    "She figured she was owed a performance bonus. Also she''s happy you''re alive." Xena spoke matter-of-factly, it¡¯s almost hard to see her in her natural state after seeing her so animated. It¡¯s almost as if I dreamed it.

    "Well, I''d say she certainly did." I can''t exactly fault the thinking of the big ol'' bear, she has rightly earned a reward for all her hard work, and... "And I''m happy she''s alive too."

    Xena winces at that comment, which seems to briefly confuse Katarina, before she simply shakes her head and gives Pasche a smile. Pasche is still utterly flabbergasted, but with Katarina''s apparent approval she finally leaves the room to let me sort myself out. Katarina followed her out of the room, with Xena soon after, though she does give me something of a concerned look over her shoulder as she leaves. Just a little flicker of what I saw in her that night.

    There''s something fascinating about Katarina, come to think of it. I''d made the connection between her and a dog, a perhaps mean connection to make, and yet she is willing to show affection, and let affection be shown to the object of her apparent desire without any displeasure. Almost like a cat, loving without regard for consequences and without any idea of exclusivity. It''s honestly quite smart. Katarina might honestly be a lot smarter than I give her credit for.

    ... I might be dumber than the giant German murder worshipper.

    Confronted by that possibility, I quickly get out of bed and take to the task of making myself decent. I was told not to speculate about Katarina and I have never before been more grateful for that command¡­ Not thinking about Katarina is hard, but I at least manage it for as long as it takes to change my clothes and underwear, and tidy up my hair the tiniest amount. It really is a hopeless mess of curls. Still, I manage to make it out the door alive, to where Pasche is waiting for me.

    Pasche is using the little time I¡¯ve given her to try and do something with her own hair, brushing it with her fingers. This might just be a nervous habit though. It is quite thick and lustrous hair, and it¡¯s started to grow down to her shoulders. It frames her face quite nicely. Especially in the light of the morning sun, coming in from a nearby window, illuminating her in a way that makes every inch of her simply stunning. She deserves that light, she deserves to be seen. She¡¯s beautiful she deserves to know that-

    "Serena? What¡¯re you staring at?"

    That was an excellent question from Pasche, one I simply cannot answer. I know she wants to know I was staring at her, but it¡¯ll only hurt her in the end. Her cuirass is marked by musket shot, and one hole that seems to have been caused by a lance. Who dared try to lance my Pasche?! I¡¯ll cut them in half!

    ¡°Serena, if you don¡¯t want to go out with me, that¡¯s fine¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Panic seizes my throat and decides my answer, insisting on that answer being sin.

    ¡°... No you don¡¯t want to go out with me or-¡± And now Pasche is confused.

    It¡¯s adorable and I feel guilty and- ¡°No, I don''t want to not go out with you. As in¡­ I want to go out with you! I just¡­ I was just¡­ Staring at you in the Sun¡­¡±

    Pasche is quickly flustered, but she isn''t smiling. I wish that made her smile, as awful as it is I crave her smile when it¡¯s gone. Still, she takes my hand in hers, and the two of us make our way out of the Cotton Temple and onto the streets of Medhelanon.

    The city is a lot more pleasant during the daytime, modern and well constructed, row houses and little cafes and the like. It seems that enough time has passed since our occupation that the people are willing to go outside again. There are occasional Avernian soldiers patrolling the streets, of course, but for the most part it is the people of Medhelanon going about their business.

    Going to work, going out to eat, meeting others... There are so many of them. So many more of them than there are of us. If that King of Samnia hadn''t fled, we could easily have been washed away by these people. It¡¯s enough to put me on edge. I feel myself squeezing Pasche''s hand until it hurts.

    "S... So..." Pasche scratched the back of her head with her free hand, looking rather nervous. "I didn''t get a good look at the city... And I don''t know if you did but... What do you think we should do first-"

    "Butcher!"

    Before I can process the sudden and unfamiliar scream, I feel a sharp pain in my arm, and turn to find a small child preparing to throw a rock at my head. He throws... And Pasche catches the rock right before my eyes, looking about ready to throw it right back at the child.

    I grab her wrist, the kid is barely a threat, he¡¯s just angry. "Pasche, he''s just a kid."

    Pasche doesn''t need much convincing it turns out, dropping the rock and instead resorting to giving the child a mean look. The child sticks his tongue out at us, goading us into trying to fight him...

    Before noticing some approaching Avernian soldiers and quickly running away. Looking around, I realize that a handful of people are beginning to stare at Pasche and I, looking at us with derision.

    "... They hate us, don''t we?" And I can''t even blame them, even if we didn¡¯t shell the city to pieces we still caused a great deal of havoc when confronted with the impromptu militia.

    "Yeah." Pasche too is struggling with knowing the people staring us down have a point. "... Maybe a recently conquered city isn''t the best place to have a date- A day together."

    "Maybe..." It¡¯s not fair to Pasche, to deny her what she is owed just because everyone hates Avernians right now- "... So maybe we shouldn''t be Avernians today, wearing Avernian colors."

    "As in, get changed? I didn''t really bring any civilian clothes, and I doubt that green dress of yours would be salvageable after that party."

    "As in go shopping, Pasche!" I''m not sure why that comes out as loud as it does, I¡¯ve barely ever shopped before but I¡¯m pretty sure it''s not usually so significant. "I''ve seen you in a lovely red dress, but I''d like to see you in all kinds of colors!"

    This time Pasche does smile, she becomes incredibly giddy in fact! "I... I think I''d like that a great deal- Wait... How are we going to pay for this?"

    "I''ll just expense it to Antoine and the Army. If I''m ''friends with The Convention'' now, I may as well abuse it, right?"

    And this has Pasche laughing... It¡¯s dorky, and I love it in a way that''s dangerous and scary. I want her to keep laughing, I want her to keep smiling. I want things that are wrong. I want more than I deserve.

    And now Pasche is the one dragging me along, herself now overwhelmingly excited to get to our day together... Before mercifully slowing down, remembering my recent wound and being easy on it. Thank goodness for the wound, I''d probably let myself get carried away otherwise. She could have led me anywhere, smiling like that.

 Chapter Forty Nine

    "Okay... How do I look?"

    Pasche steps out from behind the curtain, giving a little twirl in her flowy white dress. She looks like a beautiful, wistful creature wearing it, but that might just be her smile... Xena''s treatments really have been treating Pasche well, a small but noticeable bust has formed on her chest, and there is a certain softness evident in her features. She was already pretty, I wonder how she could have become so much more beautiful in only two short months... Maybe it''s simply that she''s happier? That might be why she''s able to shine like this... I want her to be happy. I want her to be beautiful. I want-

    "Uhhh, Serena? You''re ummm, you''re not saying anything." Pasche looks over me with concern, her smile briefly absent.

    "Ah! S... Sorry." I try to compose myself, I feel like I¡¯ve walked right into a brick wall having lost Pasche¡¯s smile. "I was simply struggling to find the words. You are gorgeous, Pasche."

    Pasche squeaks, it¡¯s a bizarre contrast to her occasional flashes of very competent violence. Flusterable and vulnerable here, and apparently bulletproof on a battlefield... It''s that weakening again, isn''t it? That the Marshal warned me of. That my presence leads her to be so susceptible to these little flusterings, that she would get shot for my sake, that she would burn just to burn with me. I¡¯ve been letting myself get carried away, I¡¯m hurting her again.

    ... Dear Gods I hope Our Tailor today won''t try to kill us.

    "Hmmm... I don''t think white is your color, darling." Our Tailor doesn''t seem interested in killing us right this second, mind you, merely offering more honest critiques than we would be able to come up with on our own. "It just doesn''t do much with your lovely pale skin!"

    "O... Oh..." Pasche looks down at the flowing skirt of her tested dress, and gives it another little rustle. "I think I see what you mean, madam."

    "I know enough Avernian to know that ''madam'' is for old ladies." Our Tailor laughs, but there is definitely something of a threat in there. "Hmm... I''m not sure if flowing is precisely the best fit for you either. I mean, it certainly works, buuuuuuut I think you could do so much more with something a little more... Flattering."

    "Umm... Madam- Sorry, Mademoiselle. Are you sure-"

    "I think I have something for you to try, Mademoiselle Pasche. You just get behind that curtain, I''ll grab you something that will make that friend of yours swoon."

    Our Tailor is all smiles and mischievous enthusiasm as she goes to her rack of dresses to find something that will apparently ''make me swoon''. Something that could conceptually make Pasche even more attractive. Pasche gives me a nervous look before slipping back behind the curtain, apparently a bit skeptical about what might follow. I almost feel tempted to give her my heart for a moment, to catch her in my magic to give her courage... But I don''t. I shouldn''t. It would just hurt her.

    The dress is picked out, but Our Tailor blocks my vision of it with her body, apparently relishing the surprise I am to experience. So I simply wait... But not for long. Pasche emerges in a little black dress, of a sort I''ve never seen before. Its hem cuts off before the knees, its neck is low and seems designed to flatter the chest to the point of utterly annihilating all sense of propriety or public morals. Its straps are thin, which shows off the sinewy muscle of Pasche''s arms, and the tightness of the dress makes the outline of her form very apparent to me. Pasche isn''t smiling this time, she is consumed by embarrassment. She¡¯s vulnerable¡­

    "I... I can''t go outside in this!"

    Her protest is entirely accurate. She cannot go outside in that dress. I don''t think I can allow anyone but me to see her in that dress.

    "Hehehe! Hah, your face is so precious, darling!" Our Tailor is clapping her hands in utter glee, having apparently gotten the reaction she wanted out of Pasche. "Haaaah, I know that this garment is simply too scandalous to ever wear outside, but it warms my heart to see young ladies shock and startle their friends in it. I figured it would be a good look for you."

    "Well you''ve certainly scandalized me!" Pasche shifts uncomfortably, there isn''t really a way for her to stand that doesn''t put far more of her on display than is decent or acceptable. "I... I''m so sorry Serena, I- Huh?"

    I want to tear that dress off her. I want to hear her squeal. I want her to be vulnerable under my touch. I want to be rough, I want to drink my fill of Pasche just like I had dreamed, with claws and teeth and moans and squeals. I don¡¯t care about weakening her, I want to possess her heart. I want to make her mine- I suddenly look away, covering my eyes with a hand, feeling warm in every corner of my body. With some horror I realize that I am salivating¡­

    "It''s... It''s certainly scandalous, that''s to be sure." I can''t keep the excitement and animation out of my voice... The imagining of taste. "You look very good in it!"

    "Th... Thank you, Serena." She¡¯s still horribly embarrassed and vulnerable, but I can hear a smile wedged between those two feelings that carries in her voice.

    Our Tailor whispers something to Pasche, something which makes her squeak before she hurriedly disappears behind the curtain again. I swear, there''s something almost gleefully sinful about Our Tailor here, but I can''t quite place it.

    "So, what did you want to try, Mademoiselle Serena? ... I think you would look rather fetching in green."

    I can''t help but be a little suspicious of Our Tailor''s casual inquiry, seeing as any second now she could try to inflict a dress like that upon me. I''m nothing special after all, surely such a thing would be wasted on me. Scandalously revealing my skin could only show just how little I have worth showing off.

    I realize that she''s staring at me now, I appear to have gone off into my own little world again while she was waiting for an answer. "Ah! I have heard people say before that green would be a good color for me-"

    "But do you like it?"

    "I... I never really gave it much thought before-"

    "Alright darling, then what we''re going to have to do is bombard you with colors until you find something you like. Not something someone would suggest for you. If it turns out green is your color then all the better, but no-one else can decide what suits you best. Take it from me, darling."

    She''s being sincere. Having been so obviously and blatantly mischievous seems to come with the advantage that her sincerity is obvious to spot... My own color, huh... What suits me... I''d never really thought about it before-

    "Umm... Serena?" Pasche''s voice filters in weakly from behind the curtain.

    "Yes, Pasche?"

    "I ummm... I''m struggling with one of these hooks. Could you come in and help me out of this dress?"

    "Sure, I''ll-" The words catch in my throat as I remember the overwhelming carnal hunger that had possessed me at the sight of her in that dress. "... I''ll be right in!"

    "Thanks!"

    And there''s the mischief. Our Tailor is grinning like an idiot, and I have to wonder if she knows what exactly I''m going through, or if she underestimates the sheer bentness of the girl in her midst. She can¡¯t possibly know my capacity for blasphemy, right? ... I have to be good. I have to be on my best behavior. I have to be as rigid as Steel. I take a deep breath and slip past the curtain.

    ... I want to bite Pasche so much.

    I try to take deep breaths, and to keep my hands to my sides as best as I am able. But I am very aware of the wetness of my mouth, and the softness of Pasche¡¯s skin. Of just how close the girl is to me, and of the slight ache in my now motionless hands. All I have to do is accomplish my task and get out from behind the curtain. My task, of... Undressing Pasche. And then leaving after. Oww.

    "S... So uhhh... Where''s the... The..." My words are failing me, my brain is failing me really, all my attention was on resisting my urges, and on obsessing over them.

    "The hook?" Pasche nervously points out a particularly elusive looking fastener, the last thing keeping that dress on her body. "It''s... It''s right here. Thank you.

    Naturally it has to be at her hip... I have seen Pasche naked before, how is this so different? I think it must be down to the things I can''t yet see, the anticipation. Or maybe I am simply more shameless without Her Majesty''s grace... Why the guilt makes me want to touch Pasche more is something I don''t understand or can even begin to comprehend. Knowing it''s wrong makes it the only thing I can think about.

    I try to keep my hands steady, to precisely remove the hook as quickly as possible. I fail. My hands shake at the task, and fumble in their attempts to remove Pasche''s garment. I curse under my breath and lean in closer. Every inch of me is wracked in hungry, quivering warmth.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I want to just tear the thing off and throw Pasche to the ground, and follow her soon after.

    ... The hook comes loose. And the dress slides off of Pasche''s form, leaving her in some undyed cotton underthings... Admittedly she did just come from deployment, and it''s not as if I ever wore anything special but I want to see her in lace. I want to see her briefly wearing lace, before I leave her wearing tatters. With her undressed I can see every scar she has obtained in my service, the reminders of bullet wounds and slashes she has been subjected to... I hate that she took these scars in my service, that I would be the thing to bring her pain. But a twisted part of me wants to add to that tapestry with my teeth.

    Pasche is clearly able to feel my eyes on her as the dress descends... And she turns to face me, closing her eyes. An invitation? ... No. No, it can¡¯t be that. Because if it¡¯s an invitation I would not be able to resist, and even if it is one I cannot allow myself to indulge. So it mustn''t be an invitation. I am simply too shameless, too sinful for this to be an invitation to press Pasche up against that wall and sate this sinful hunger. So instead I retreat past the curtain, a pathetic little whimper on my lips. Why do I want such wrong things? ... Why are the things I want so wrong?

    Our Tailor pats me on the back when she sees me again, giving me a small smile. "It''s okay. You''ll work up to it."

    I... What?!

    Our Tailor doesn¡¯t elaborate on what she meant by that, she simply brings another dress to the curtain for Pasche to try on. A nice, modest red number. Something pretty, she''ll look nice in it... I want to cry as the hunger disappears and sharp guilt takes its place¡­ This is what I¡¯m meant to do, right? It hurts, it has to be the right thing to do. But it isn''t supposed to hurt like this.

    Pasche eventually reappears in the newly offered dress, and looks appropriately beautiful. But I am more focused on her eyes. She looks at me with a kind of betrayal that can''t quite become anger, and simply lingers as sheer disappointed sadness. And I still want to touch her. Only, I want to be more gentle. I want to soothe her.

    I have to look away, I can''t stand these thoughts forever. Not without becoming a sinner again. Not without being selfish. Not without being Serena when I ought to be a monster. Which leaves Our Tailor with the unenviable task of talking up a very sad cuirassier.

    "Marvelous, darling! Red really is your color. Are you satisfied with it?"

    "Y... Yeah." Pasche''s gaze is on the floor, I can''t see it but I can hear it in her tone. "I think I can wear this."

    "Hehe, good good... Alright now, it''s your turn!" Our Tailor turns her attention to me, gesturing for me to head behind the curtain myself. "We''re going to find you something stunning!"

    It takes a few dresses, but eventually I found myself in lilac purple of all colors. There¡¯s something in the color that suited my mood, that appeals to my taste at the present. It¡¯s odd, but I feel odd... It¡¯s also relatively modest, which is good, as I can''t help but feel small behind this curtain. Moreso as I listen to Pasche and Our Tailor whispering amongst themselves, Our Tailor apparently soothing Pasche with stories of her own past. Something about being engaged to marry an Avernian noble. Something about making dresses for, and eyes at that noble''s sister. Something about having to flee back to Samnia after The Convention had that noble executed for miscarriage of justice. And something about knowing what it''s like to have to wait on someone to realize what they want... I emerge from behind the curtain in my lilac dress. And Pasche gives me a smile. She hasn''t been crying, but she might genuinely look less sad if she had been.

    "You look nice... Do you like it?" She''s gentle... She''s capable of such gentleness that it¡¯s near impossible to think she¡¯s capable of wrath.

    "I think I do... Thank you, Pasche."

    "Yes darling, it fits you well." Our Tailor gives me a smile as well, an understanding one. "I think I''d like to see you two leave this shop wearing these dresses."

    I was left nervously playing with my hands in the awkward atmosphere. "Uhh... Yeah. Can we get a receipt on that? We were hoping we could charge it to the Avernian army-"

    "Oh just take the things." She laughs, but it¡¯s not nearly as carefree as she clearly would have liked. "I was a poor, unfortunate young girl like you two once. Any way I can help, I am happy to do so."

    ... Pasche and I seem to have stumbled on the strangest tailor''s shop in all of Medhelanon. That or perhaps all garment makers are this bizarre, I can''t say I''ve met many others. I almost want to insist on paying but insisting on spending money that wasn''t mine is probably more than a little mean. And... This woman looks happy to offer us beautiful garments for no charge. I shouldn''t deny her that. I shouldn''t deny her what would make her happy-

    I feel inconsistent again. I have often felt inconsistent since this campaign began, since Her Majesty cast me aside. Like I don''t even know what is right or wrong anymore, and everything that I¡¯ve been painstakingly taught is right and good is contradicted by what is natural. I hate this feeling. I want to run away. Was this why Renee ran away? Can I even run away?

    Pasche puts a hand on my shoulder and gives Our Tailor a smile as we make our leave... We were making our leave? I must have been so lost in thought that I missed the part where our business was concluded¡­ I even missed her slipping an unfamiliar package into the bag that held my officer¡¯s dress, what did she give me? ¡­ Part of me knows I shouldn¡¯t be opening it in front of Pasche.

    We slip out into the streets of Medhelanon, Pasche looks even prettier in the sunlight. I want to take her hand. I don¡¯t deserve it.

    We don''t speak, we simply wander together for a while. Eventually we find ourselves in a lovely public park, one that has no severed heads anywhere. Maybe the Samnian approach to religion had its benefits, there aren''t any altars here either. Only park benches, trees and flowers, and people. And a frankly stunning fountain in the middle of it, one that was mercifully undamaged by the battle a few days ago. It is peaceful. Serene.

    Pasche takes a seat on a bench, and I quickly follow her. And she puts her hand on mine. The right thing to do would be to push it away, and yet I fear the pain of guilt that would come if I did. Why is nothing I try the right answer?

    "Hey, Serena..." Pasche has her attention entirely on me, and is mustering every bit of gentleness in her. "Are you okay?"

    No. I am blatantly not okay. "Why do you ask, Pasche?¡±

    "..."

    I think she has to physically swallow some snarky comment to not throw a barb in my direction, this must be serious. "... It''s only been about three months, you know. Usually, I think it''s normal to not have such an... Affection, for people you have only known for three months. So obviously there must be something wrong with me."

    "Aside from Lazierte and Antoine I haven''t really known anyone I care about now for longer than three months. So if there''s something wrong with you, it''s something that I share."

    "... Would that you did." Pasche clearly can''t swallow every bit of snark in her, even if this one makes her start to cry. "I... I just can''t be quiet anymore. I''ve tried to be, and I''m not even sure why. Maybe I just always expected that you would want to take the next step yourself, that you would want to... Have me be yours. I''m not even sure what you would call it. But clearly what you want is The Queen. Or Lazierte. Or maybe Xena. Or maybe even Katarina or Theophania, I don''t even know anymore!"

    She¡¯s shaking. I hold her hand tighter, even though I can tell I¡¯m shaking too.

    "Serena, I love you. I want to be yours. I want... Something with you. And... And I really thought you did too but-"

    I am choking. I am choking on all the pain and confusion that the world has thrust upon me. I¡¯m crying. I¡¯m crying selfishly, I have no right to fight pain that is entirely my own doing. To not want Pasche is to hurt her, and to want her is obviously to hurt her as well. For me to want anyone must hurt them, why else would Her Majesty reject me? Why else would she rather die than let me save her?

    "Serena?" Pasche seems about to lean in closer, to offer my weeping self some comfort, but apparently thought better of it.

    I can feel the absence of her touch on my skin¡­ It hurts. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll hurt you. I can¡¯t not hurt you. You have to know this.¡±

    Pasche freezes in place, utterly taken aback by my sudden and indulgent confession. "... What makes me think you¡¯ll hurt me?¡±

    "... Because I love you. And because I''m no good, Pasche. I''m wrong, I''m unworthy, I''m a sinner and a blasphemer. I don¡¯t know right from wrong and everything I do hurts because I know someday my failures will kill you all.¡± My voice is small, I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯m saying this for Pasche to hear it.

    ¡°It''s because I love you that I can''t allow myself to weaken you as I do. It''s because I love Xena that I can''t allow myself to confuse her, and because I love Lazierte that I can''t allow myself to make her vulnerable. ¡°

    ¡°Weaken me? ¡­ You think you make me weaker, Serena?¡±

    ¡°I do¡­ And I care about you. I love you all. If I didn''t care, if I had not a thought in the world, I''d probably have fucked Theophania by now, for gods'' sake." I almost recoil in horror, I didn''t expect that revelation, or that word, to come out of me.

    This time Pasche does lean in, putting her arm around my shoulder and holding me closely. "Serena¡­ You are the source of my strength. You¡¯re the very reason that I¡¯m alive at all. I know that the other girls feel similarly, how did you ever let yourself believe that you were unworthy? What convinced you that you were no good-"

    "Because if I was any good, Her Majesty would not have rejected me!"

    I am suddenly screaming... I think I might have disturbed some of the other park-goers, I¡¯ve turned some heads with my loud, mournful, foreign gibberish. It¡¯s easy to notice all the eyes on me, since the entire world has frozen in place as Pasche struggles to take on what I just screamed, what I just admitted. She clearly needs the time to understand just how to feel about this.

    When that time is done, she¡¯s apparently realized that she¡¯s furious. "The Queen again?! Sweet fucking Velvet, why does that woman keep hurting you?!"

    It¡¯s enough of a shock for me to practically bounce off of her, my despair now mixed with fright... And a seed of growing anger.

    Pasche gets to her feet, looking about ready to ride back to Alesia and murder my patron goddess personally. "First she tries to throw you away in exchange for a painting, then she apparently casts you aside for nothing! Serena, she is unworthy of you! I don''t care what she did for you before, she''s not doing it now. I don''t care what gratitude you feel, you should feel furious about how she''s treated you! This useless royal has exploited and undervalued you for at least as long as I have known you and you deserve better-"

    "She... She was right to push me away!" I too have reached my feet, still screaming and still crying. "I... I wanted to save her! But... But I had fallen in love with Katje, I couldn''t stop myself from kissing her, from holding her closely, from... She pushed me away, Pasche. I wanted too much, she deserved that right. She... She deserves the right to see that I am not good enough!"

    "Serena, you know that The Queen doesn''t get to decide what''s true, don''t you?! She''s not a goddess-"

    "She is my goddess, Pasche!"

    ... No more screams will come from me. No more standing will come from me either. My wound hurts again, my head feels light and funny. Everything hurts, and is too difficult to figure out, and is just too much of a weight to deal with. I fall forward, wondering if perhaps I''ll hit the park bench with my head and finally just die and let everything be simple. Oaths be damned, I never thought that simply living would be so hard. Would be too hard for me.

    Pasche catches me before I can hit the bench, and she slowly lays me down upon it, going from fury to panic in an instant. She keeps saying things, I think she¡¯s asking if I¡¯m okay, trying to care for me... Right after a fight too, she¡¯s a good girl. She''ll make someone worthy of her very happy someday.

 Chapter Fifty

    When Pasche returned my unconscious form to the Cotton Temple Xena insisted on me being tied back up again. I spent two more days like that, during which I didn¡¯t see Pasche again. I didn¡¯t see much of anyone other than Xena, feeding me as I remained tied down while she struggled not to admonish me. I got what I deserved, and yet I felt no less guilty. How does absolution work if not by punishment?

    Eventually my brother came to my ¡®rescue¡¯. The army was moving on, the Magyars were reforming at the town of Mantua and thus had made themselves vulnerable to complete destruction. Antoine was calling for a forced march, and despite the protests of Xena there was simply no more time for my ¡®recovery¡¯. I wasn¡¯t even sure if I was relieved at the time, or dreading having my friends being in danger again, but no matter what I felt, I still got out of bed.

    We caught the Magyar army by surprise at Mantua, the days prior were a brutal march that mercifully all blurred together to me. The battle was brief and decisive, the morale of the Magyar army broke as soon as we were upon them, and they collapsed before the Avernian Lions... But unlike last time, the conscripts didn''t run. They surrendered.

    Tens of thousands of them surrendered.

    And of those tens of thousands of men, almost half of them survived the following sacrifices, something utterly unprecedented in the history of warfare. This must have been planned, a great many of them simply surrendered in the face of their opponents and allowed themselves to be killed. Some of them even managed to not scream as they were stabbed, and maintained enough composure that it might be possible to believe that they didn''t regret their decision to die. It was utterly baffling behavior, and not something I ever thought I''d see again, let alone on this scale.

    But eventually we managed to process every sacrifice, and faced with having to feed thousands of Magyar conscripts we called an emergency meeting of officers to decide how to deal with this sudden strain on our supplies. Part of me has to wonder if the Magyars have realized that their terrified draftees are more of a threat to us as prisoners than as adversaries, because we have more bullets to spare than we did food. It¡¯s a mean thought. It¡¯s a thought that fits a monster.

    I doubt Xena would approve. Nor would the prisoner that she has brought into the officer''s tent with her.

    Antoine looks puzzled at the sudden intrusion, but at least he doesn¡¯t look as viscerally disgusted as some of his officers do. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle Helven was it? This was one of the Magyar conscripts we had captured, if I have my information right. What business do they have in a meeting between officers of the Avernian army?"

    Xena doesn''t give Antoine a response, whispering something to the prisoner who gives a grand declaration in response. In a language none of us understand. In a language that doesn''t even sound like the familiar gibberish of German or Samnian. Is this one of those ''Slavic'' dialects Xena had mentioned before?

    Mercifully Xena is willing to translate for us this time, even if she does so glaring at Antoine. "He takes offense to being called a ''Magyar'' conscript. He is Illyrian, and proudly so, as are many of the men we captured today. He says he wished to discuss a possibility that he and his fellow conscripts had been considering."

    One of the officers gets to his feet, ready to castigate the conscript, or perhaps Xena herself, but Antoine gestures for him to be quiet. "A possibility you say? Color me intrigued. What does this man have to say to us?"

    Xena dutifully translates... Even though her eyes are almost as dull as they typically are, I have gotten used to her enough to know she is doing this despite a clear distaste for Antoine and the assembled officers. "He and many of his fellows have no love for the Magyar Empire. In fact they would love nothing more to see their oppressors lose this war and be torn apart, so that they might have their own states again. The conscripts have elected this man to speak for them, Theodoric Hus, and if you would give your approval they would have him as their general. For a new army, one which would assist Avernia in its war against the Magyars."

    Seems like Antoine can''t keep his officers from being jumpy forever, one of them rising to his feet to rebuke Xena. "You would have us waste muskets on these cowards?! To arm them and use them, even as they have failed so poorly in every battlefield we have seen them in? These men surrendered to us the very first chance they had! How could they be reliable?!"

    Antoine gives the officer some measure of attention but doesn¡¯t give him a response, keeping the floor open to any other insubordinate outbursts that might arise from this possible solution. It¡¯s only fair, after all, to let every viewpoint be heard just as unfairly as that one. And it¡¯ll be more than a little sad if this rather loathsome opinion goes unchallenged. I don''t know if I¡¯m allowed to care but I think these men deserve a chance to fight for a home.

    Lazierte mercifully agrees with me, getting to her feet and staring down the belligerent officer. "Even with our victories the Magyar Armies still outnumber us considerably. I believe we should not turn down allies who present themselves to us."

    "And how exactly will we feed these new allies, Colonel Lazierte?" Our loud opposing officer is glaring at Lazierte with almost as much venom as Xena has for Antoine. "We''re meeting here because we barely have food for ourselves due to someone''s anti-looting policies. So, are you willing to arm these cowards and let them steal from the people of Samnia, but not us? Or do you perhaps have some vast supply network you''re not telling us about? Would they be willing to be subjected to the same punishment you subjected Avernian troops to during our great retreat under your watch, Lazierte?"

    Lazierte is taken aback, looking over at me as the opposing officer gives his little castigation. She looks completely calm, but I can see in her eyes that she¡¯s looking at me in a panic. Why is she doing that? ¡­ Does she want me to rescue her?

    I¡¯m on my feet in an instant, I am always ready to defend Lazierte to the last. "There are plenty of supplies to feed and arm soldiers in Samnia. The Magyars cart it in by the day. These men are likely to know things about Magyar supply routes, about their bases in Samnia, about how they are organized. They are almost certainly ready to sabotage and disrupt enemy operations, especially now that we¡¯ve smashed their main army. The Magyars are now uniquely vulnerable, and these new allies are uniquely qualified to root out any of them left in the country."

    I feel like I may have, two months ago, called this dishonorable. But monsters have no honor no matter what they do, they may as well do what is most effective. The opposing officer is quiet, but he''s still glaring at Lazierte with intense malice, almost with a vengeance. And Lazierte looks more than a little disturbed, trying to keep her gaze away from me...

    Xena steps forward to address all the officers in the room at once, clearly unconcerned with any of our arguments. "I had heard it said this was an army out to liberate Samnia, right? Surely then it would be hypocritical to not give the people of Illyria the tools and organization necessary to liberate themselves as well, right? To give up your ideals right before the shores of Dalmatia would be utterly boring, and not in any way useful in the destruction of the Magyar Empire. Allow these men to fight for their country, and many more men can be inspired to do so as well. It''s simple logic, that we''re even debating this is an indictment on your intelligence and your morality. And stupid, hypocritical things are very, very ordinary. Very, very boring."

    Everyone in the room is staring at Xena, even the conscript who has absolutely no idea what she¡¯s saying. The entire room has been given the verbal equivalent of a flick to the forehead.

    Antoine laughs uproariously, and nods his absolute approval. "Very well! I''m certainly convinced, I''m sure no-one else here has any objections?"

    The opposing officer takes his seat again, but manages to slip in one last grumble. "We''ll have to at least make sure he gets a passable grasp of Avernian, so we can coordinate with our new ''ally''."

    "Then I suppose you can handle that, if you will be so kind, Xena." My brother''s attention is back on Xena, with the specific kind of fascination usually reserved for imported tigers behind menagerie fences. "You are doing such a good job translating for him, after all."

    Xena nods, and gives one final glare at Antoine before leaving with the newly minted General Theoderic Hus in tow, leaving us officers to discuss the logistics to make this viable. As viable as it is for the new Illyrian Army to rob the Magyars in the future, we still have to feed them tonight. Mercifully Lazierte is something of a divine miracle with logistics, and we soon have a plan. She always was something of a bookworm, it makes her reliable... She''s very cute. I wonder if Her Majesty will appreciate her head for figures. She better- Her Majesty best not treat Lazierte badly¡­

    How can I even assume that is possible? A goddess doesn''t treat anyone any better or worse than they deserve, Her Majesty must be infallible, and yet I worry she would not treat Lazierte right. I am scared that the best thing in the world might not be worthy of Lazierte.

    "Right! Meeting adjourned!"

    That¡¯s Antoine¡¯s voice... I must have had that silent little moral crisis through the entire meeting. Lazierte stands, everyone else stands... And she casts a glance at me from across the room, clearly unsure what to think. She awkwardly approaches me, and scratches the back of her head.

    "I have to give the commissariat their new orders¡­ It¡¯ll probably be a late night for me so I can¡¯t really offer it to you. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± She looks scared, is she scared I¡¯ll be upset with her? ¡°Ummm... Have a good night, Serena."

    "I... Uhh... Yeah. Good night, Lazierte." Why do I feel like I¡¯m missing something?

    Lazierte lingers for an awkward second, there¡¯s something on her mind and it¡¯s begging to be said¡­ But she slips away from me, whatever it is apparently can wait until the actuarial tables are settled... I wish I could treat her well. I wish I could be the best thing in the world to her. But I can''t. Because the best thing in the world to anyone would be Her Majesty. Even my best is nothing compared to a goddess, I can never be worthy of Lazierte. I can never be worthy of anyone. I get to my feet and find myself shambling back to my tent, lacking the power to walk normally, I feel drained. All I want to do is get off my feet and try to stop thinking about Her Majesty. I slip past the flap of the tent, fall into my chair... And am faced with something utterly horrifying.

    "My knight!"

    Theophania is sitting on my bed, again. She seems to have found a pair of trousers somewhere during our campaign, and a blouse that must have been tailored specifically to accommodate her rather ample bust. Her... Rather alluring bust. Her very nostalgic bust... I want to run, but my feet aren''t listening to me anymore. I have nothing left to run away with. The memory of Her Majesty took that away from me.

    "Theophania-"

    "My knight, we are alone. You can address me properly if you''d like." She¡¯s smiling, but something is clearly frustrating her.

    "... Princess Theophania-"

    "Yes, my darling knight?"

    "... What are you doing on my bed?"

    Her eye twitches subtly as she tries to maintain her smile... Something isn''t quite right here. "I wrote up the report for today''s battle! I thought you might wish to review it, to make sure it suits your purposes. I''m doing good work, you know."

    Theophania gestures towards the desk I¡¯m sitting at, and there is in fact a number of handwritten reports written upon it. Immaculately written in fact, Theophania''s handwriting is utterly sublime. As to be expected from someone with a Princess'' education I suppose. Reading the words however... They are equally immaculate, masterfully describing the heroism of the Avernian Lions and the brilliant and gallant nature of their General Serena. She even wove a narrative of Humanism into our actions. Acting with boldness and skill to prevent further loss of life, taking prisoners, and not looting any nearby villages. I''d never actually read any of Theophania''s works before but, she absolutely knows what she¡¯s doing here! She was an excellent choice for a publicist. It was entirely worth bringing her to Samnia with me.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ... She¡¯s putting her arms around my shoulders and her mouth against my ear. "Hehe, I must confess I do adore writing about my knight''s heroic conquests... Why, the only thing I''d like to write about more is... Her great loves."

    Theophania bites my ear. Honestly she¡¯s a little too gentle, she can definitely bite a little harder- No! No, I need to stop this!

    "Princess-" I can''t handle this, I need to get myself out of this.

    "You won a great victory today. You''ve won many great victories since we marched into Samnia. I hear the Magyars are on the run, that we''re about to take the capital of Samnia... Surely, after all these accomplishments, you have earned some rest, haven''t you?" Her hands are slowly running down my form, undoing the top button of my dress as she whispers into my ear. "You''ve more than earned your princess."

    "Theophania-" I can''t move my limbs, I can''t summon the will to flee, and no god is willing to save me.

    "You''re the perfect knight. Gallant and caring, kind and brave, dutiful and loving. You once said you would only leave me to face the worst evils, that you would choose me over the greatest comforts. There''s nothing evil out there right now. No monsters you have to face."

    She lowers her head to kiss my neck... And I swear I feel a tear on her cheek. "So I can be perfect for you too. I can be loving and supportive and sustaining and beautiful, I can be anything you want. So you can stay, right? ... You''ll stay... Right?"

    Please. Please help me. Anyone.

    "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you-"

    "Theophania!" I manage to find my feet and rise from my chair, turning to face her. "... I can''t..."

    Theophania is no longer smiling. And Theophania is no longer asking, physically pulling me over to the bed and flinging me upon it. She isn''t especially strong, but I am extraordinarily weak in this moment. And that face can always move me, no matter where I see it. I land roughly on the bed and am soon followed by Theophania, who pins my wrists above my head with her hands. She¡¯s weeping.

    And she is furious. "You! You swore an oath. You have made me so many oaths and promises. You promised you would not leave me alone! You promised that you would serve me and be mine! It has been weeks since I have even spoken to you, my knight! You are going to keep your promises. You are going to be my knight tonight or I swear to the fucking gods! ..."

    Theophania doesn''t even have a threat to levy at me, she merely weeps louder and harder. It¡¯s unbearable, my princess is crying. Theophania, someone I care deeply about, is hurt. And I have given her every right to feel that way... I want to comfort her, I want to give her everything she wants, I want to soothe her heart.

    My idiot self kisses her... And she tastes exactly like Her Majesty. Her clumsy tongue moves boldly in my mouth, and without much in the way of finesse. Her Majesty had been a better kisser... But it¡¯s close enough to hurt. It¡¯s close enough to tear open my stomach, to stab me full of bayonets, to melt my skin and burn me until not even ash remains. I¡­ I''ve forced myself upon her, didn¡¯t I? I finally slipped, I¡¯ve finally broken and exploited her, just for a taste of my goddess. I want to vomit.

    Theophania withdraws her lips... And stares through me with renewed frustration. "Why are you crying?! Your princess is here! Why are you crying?!"

    "Because..." At the back of my mind I pray that someone, anyone, will slit my throat before I can cry out an answer to Theophania''s question. "You look just like her... You look just like Her Majesty¡­"

    Theophania''s anger disappears in an instant replaced with an utterly blank expression as she tries to process what has finally escaped my shameful idiot mouth. I''ve done it now. I can''t take this back. Never again can I take my blasphemy to my grave. It takes an agonizing few moments, but eventually Theophania decides how to feel about this.

    She decides to cry, roll off me, and flee the tent in despair.

    I scramble out of bed and to my feet. My princess is crying and running and I don''t know where she might end up or what she might do... I¡¯ve been cruel to her. I¡¯ve been cruel to her this entire campaign in Samnia. And now I¡¯ve reached the apex of my cruelty, I¡¯ve kissed her just to taste Her Majesty again... I can¡¯t stand being this cruel, unbearable beast any longer. I can''t stand being cruel to her any longer! And clearly she couldn''t tolerate it either. I have to be entirely honest with her, I have to find her and tell her the truth, apologize as much as my lips will allow... And let her kill me for my transgressions any way she desires. I run out of the tent after her, following her as best I can... And eventually I find her at the infirmary tent.

    I also find Xena there, still trying to teach the Illyrian general how to speak our language. "Theophania... I''m sorry, I''m busy at present, do you think this could wait-"

    "Mademoiselle Helven! You''ve gotta fix Serena!"

    ... I stop by the entrance of the infirmary tent. In my very bones I know that I should not interrupt this moment. So I hide, and eavesdrop, as is fast becoming my habit. Xena is the smartest person I''ve ever heard of, after all. She has to have a solution for how to deal with me.

    Xena, immediately attentive, turns to the general and asks something I cannot for the life of me understand. With a very confused nod he leaves the tent, passing me on the way out. The two of us share an awkward look, and I give him a fairly universal symbol that I am certain will cross the language barrier. A finger over my lips, followed by a ¡®shhhhh¡¯. Mercifully Theodoric understands my meaning, or at the very least has absolutely no desire to get involved with whatever is happening, and thus the man is silent. He doesn¡¯t go anywhere though, there isn''t really anywhere for him to go since Xena is the only other person here who speaks his language. So the two of us are stuck awkwardly looking at one another as we watch the drama unfold beyond the tent flap.

    "... How hurt is she and what supplies do I need to bring?" Xena sounds her usual tired self, but there is an edge of panicked frustration in there.

    "I... I don''t think there are any supplies that could help with the way Serena''s broken... Xena, she''s in love with my mom!" Theophania''s voice is still wracked with sobs, even after the entire run here she is still in the exact same state of shocked despair.

    "... Did you not know that? I thought everyone knew that."

    "You knew?!"

    "She''s never exactly been subtle about it. Honestly it''s infuriating and we all wish she''d stop."

    "Well how do I make her stop! ... She... She said I looked like my mom. She was crying!¡±

    "Theophania..."

    Xena sighs and moves her chair closer, apparently getting ready to give a crying Theophania a lecture... Everyone wants me to stop? ... It¡¯s hard not to see the logic in it, they never seemed to like Katje much. And they never were able to see Her Majesty¡­

    "Xena..."

    Xena reaches out and pets Theophania''s head, albeit rather awkwardly, like the motion isn''t quite coming naturally to her. "What''s broken in Serena isn''t something that can be fixed from the outside. It comes from the same part of her that is so fascinating and unique, only... Something''s happened to it. I abhor idle speculation, but I suspect it may have been your mother''s doing."

    "You... You think my mother broke Serena like this?"

    "Process of elimination, really. If Pasche hurt her then she''d cry forever. If Celeste and Auguste hurt her they would be moving all the heavens to try to make it better again. If Katarina hurt her then Serena would not have survived. And if you hurt her... Well, you''d run right to me to ask me how to make it better." Xena seems oddly maternal, dealing with Theophania... Aren¡¯t they the same age?

    "Your mother''s the only outlier... Unless Serena''s been going after even more women I don''t know about. And I doubt that, I keep my eye on her when I can."

    Theophania seems to be regaining her composure somewhat under Xena''s ministrations, but she¡¯s clearly still in great distress. "... And if you hurt Serena? What would you do?"

    Xena freezes in place a moment, apparently having in no way considered that... Before returning to her comforting motion. "I wouldn''t. That is simply not an eventuality I need to plan for."

    "Hehe, of course... You''d know how not to..."

    The two take a moment of silence, processing what has just been said while side by side. It¡¯s serene. Peaceful... And gives me a moment to process what they just said, and how it is complete nonsense! Her Majesty, harming me?! Her Majesty is a goddess! Anything she does must be the truth, anything she does must be justified! Broken... I broke me. Serena broke me by wanting more with Katje than the existence of Her Majesty would allow, it¡¯s simply the only answer! ... Across from me, General Theodoric is looking at me with befuddlement. When I look his way he silently mouths a question.

    "Serena?"

    I nod, I think he could tell that they are talking about me, even if he couldn''t quite understand what they¡¯re saying. He looks upon me with no small amount of disgust, apparently he has context enough to know I made Theophania cry. And I deserve it. I deserve the scorn of this random foreigner.

    "... But what do we do if we can''t fix her, Xena? ... She''s supposed to be my knight, I was supposed to be her princess. I thought it was finally happening for me, that someone finally cared for me! ... But all she cared about was my mother. All she wanted as a plaything that resembled my mother..."

    "... She didn''t try to... Force herself on you, did she, Theophania?" Xena stops again, clearly concerned about my possible atrocious behavior.

    "No... It was, honestly quite the opposite-" Xena flicks Theophania on the forehead, hard, causing Theophania to recoil a little. "Owwwww! Yes, I messed up! I just... I''ve barely even seen her while we''ve been in Samnia, and we... I..."

    Xena flicks Theophania again, but then relents, leaning back a little. "There is no excuse for trying to do that to a person, no matter what. Trying to use a person as nothing more than an instrument for sex is just the kind of ordinary that is the most boring thing of all..."

    "I''m sorry..."

    "Yeah, well... Apologize to Serena. The only reason I''m not melting you is because I''m certain she wants to forgive you. She''s... Like that."

    "She''s very..." Both Xena and Theophania find the same word at the same time, "Serena."

    I swear I see Xena smile just a little, and Theophania smiles with her... But, I was the one who tried to force myself on Theophania, wasn¡¯t I? I mean, Theophania did push me down, she pinned my wrists, she¡­ Got very close¡­ She was biting me in my chair and undoing my buttons just before, but I''m the one who kissed her! And it¡¯s hard to fault her for her other actions. She was motivated by my cruelty, by my avoidance. By my failure to be honest, I should have told her long ago about the feelings I had, she deserved to know what sinful scum I am... Theodoric is looking at me quizzically, seeing them both smile at my name is clearly confusing him. Admittedly, it¡¯s confusing me too.

    "Aaaaaaahhh, but what do I doooooooo? I still... She''s still my knight! I don''t want another one, I want Serena! I just... Want the Serena I met in the Palace, not the Serena who took me to Samnia..."

    "Yeah, well... We all want the Serena we met before she took us to Samnia..." Xena sighs, and takes to petting Theophania''s hair again. "... For what it''s worth, if Serena was the kind of woman who only wanted you because you look like your mother, she''d probably have just slept with you and called it a day. I think it might actually be the opposite."

    "The opposite?" Theophania is trying to do the math in her head, before coming to a conclusion. "You mean, she likes me for me... And she can''t be with me because I look like my mother?"

    "That sounds like the kind of idiot Serena is, doesn''t it?"

    "... Yeah. Yeah, that''s very Serena..."

    "So, maybe... Try drawing attention to the differences? You aren''t your mother, Serena can clearly see that. But it might help her if you can look less like the Queen. Or at least, get Serena to look at you, and only you. Be yourself, not anything else. If you want her to love you, then don¡¯t try to make her love things that aren¡¯t you."

    "Be myself, not anything else¡­¡± Theophania¡¯s eyes carry a sharp and painful flicker of hope, which she quickly blinks out of existence. ¡°You think that will work?"

    "I think it will help. Whatever happened to our Serena is something a lot deeper than that. And I don''t think anyone except Serena can pull herself out of it... I just wish she could see that she''s been hurt somewhere along the way. Trying to convince her is like doing surgery with someone else''s hands. Someone blind."

    Hurt? As in, harmed? I mean, I am hurt... But I did this to myself. I am a failure, I hurt myself against Her Majesty... Katje wouldn''t hurt me, would she?

    "... You''ve given me a lot to think about... Thank you, Xena." Theophania is smiling again as she gets to her feet, looking at Xena with a clear reverence. "You''re like the wise magician of my life. Only you''re a cute girl and you flick my forehead sometimes."

    "I''m just Xena." She speaks matter-of-factly. "... You''re fascinating enough without being a fairy tale princess, you know. I wish the world hadn''t bored you so, to convince you to become one."

    Theophania is honest to goodness blushing, smiling earnestly as something inside her breaks again. She¡¯s about to exit the tent, which means I have to get the heck out of here. I give Theodoric one final wave and start running. I know I have to apologize to Theophania but... Not right now. Not today...

    I can''t approach her now when I might hurt her smile.

 Chapter Fifty One

    Ravenna.

    The city is utterly vast from the outside, almost as big as Alesia. I''m not even certain we have enough troops to surround it, especially with our new Illyrian friends out mopping up Magyar remnants rather than sieging with us. We''ve managed to get here, that¡¯s already impressive enough... But how are we going to get in? How are we even going to overcome the walls? ... And even if we do, how are we going to deal with all the civilians?

    The King of Samnia is apparently just as confident as I am full of doubt, as he has ridden to our camp with his entourage to discuss our surrender. His quite extensive entourage, with a full honor guard and a handful of other nobles. Nobles whose land we have probably occupied on the way here. Which goes some way towards explaining their smug smiles, barely papering over fury, which one of them notably doesn¡¯t have.

    A young woman wearing a well-fitting suit but ill-fitting finery over it, who looks horribly uncomfortable here. Her bright eyes keep darting to our own Avernian soldiers, then back to the Samnian guardsmen, it¡¯s a compulsion she¡¯s unable to overcome. If I had to guess she¡¯s only a little older than me, and ever so slightly shorter. She¡¯s fidgeting with her short black hair, a boyish mess atop a youthful face, all the while clearly lost in thought.

    Poor girl. If we win, we''ll be killing her.

    "So... This is the best you could come up with? The famous Antoine Pollineux, ''The Messiah of Steel'', has walked right into the Samnian Army, in the most defensible location in Samnia... With this pitiful handful of clowns?" The King gives a grand, sweeping gesture to all the Avernian officers in attendance, getting a chuckle out of most of his retinue.

    Antoine completely ignores the King and smiles widely at Lazierte. "Hehe! He said the thing! Did you hear that? He called me ''The Messiah of Steel''! I knew it''d catch on!"

    Lazierte pinches the bridge of her nose with her spare hand, she can''t even begin to form the words to describe her sheer disappointment with the situation. I giggle.

    It doesn''t last long, being in the presence of a man who hides behind his own civilians while he abandons them to their fates is not good for my mood. I am obliged to be a monster, but to do something so heinous, this man must be accustomed to it.

    But it at least gets a smile out of me to see the Samnian King so displeased by Antoine''s amusement. "I am here in good faith to offer you a path back to your home, to allow you to survive the folly of having invaded my land... And you would laugh?!"

    "Of course I would! I''m genuinely surprised that you are surprised." Antoine''s dramatic thespian routine can be very amusing when it¡¯s employed as a weapon. "So... What precisely are your proposed terms then?"

    "Simple. Leave. I will allow you all to leave every inch of Samnian land that you have occupied without incident, including Genoa. You will withdraw to Massila, and in exchange I will speak to The Coalition about potentially bringing the war to an early close. Oh, and you won''t all die in Ravenna, or outside its walls. It sounds reasonable to me, and if you were in any way sensible you would accept."

    "I see. Is that all we need to do for you? You don''t require me to get on my knees and kiss your boots in gratitude? You''re not demanding to fuck my sister in exchange for your gracious mercy?" Antoine''s eyes find me, immediately full of remorse. "... I was merely being rhetorical, but I do apologize."

    Lazierte is honestly more offended than I am, at least I might conceptually forgive my idiot brother for his casual vulgarity. I shuffle closer to her and take her hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. If I don''t let her know everything is alright she might actually strangle my brother to death.

    "For me to take any joy in humiliating you, I would need to believe you had any dignity to lose. And I have no desire to sleep with your ugly mess of a sister... Do the backwards people of your small island even bother to bathe, she looks like she''s slept in a forest!"

    This time I have to squeeze Lazierte''s hand, she¡¯s inched herself closer to the Samnian King, clearly about ready to murder him for daring to point out my disheveled appearance... I haven''t slept in a forest, I''ve barely slept at all these past few weeks, but knowing how untamed my curls have become I can understand his criticism... That young woman among the King''s retinue looks at her sovereign with some amount of confused disdain. Who precisely is she?

    "... Alright then, I think this meeting is done." Antoine gives Lazierte and I a concerned look, before returning his attention to the King of Samnia. "I think I''d much prefer to kill you, destroy your dynasty, tear down your Eagles, and free the Samnian people of your utterly inept rule. You just threw away your only bargaining chip. My sincere belief that you might have been more amusing alive than dead."

    "Such confidence from the upstart. Listen, boy. You might be able to fight an army, you may well be able to take a city. But you cannot overcome a people! And I am the people of Samnia made manifest! Your soldiers will drown in Samnian blood before they even make it to my palace. You will never be skilled enough to overcome-"

    This I cannot tolerate, this pride in just how many people he is willing to let die for him just to save his skin and preserve his rule... His pride in having the same power as me. "Monsieur, do you have any idea what the storming of Ravenna will look like for the people you charge into the path of our muskets? Did you even take a glance of what became of the men and women you rallied to oppose us in Medhelanon? They were shot to pieces! Their bodies were riddled with holes and the streets were slick with their blood. They were blasted apart by grenades thrown into their homes, or burned in the flaming ruins, their corpses so mangled you could not even recognize them. They were hacked to pieces by the axes and entrenching tools of sappers, and spent their final bloodcurdling moments screaming in agony. Thousands died so horribly, all so you could abandon them. And let me ask you something, Monsieur... Do you really think they died smiling? Happy to die in your service? Do you really think their last thoughts were of the glory of you?"

    "... I am no mere monsieur. I am the King of Samnia. And there are not thousands of people in Ravenna. There are millions. More than you have bullets, more than you have grenades. Your axes will break before I am through with you."

    The retinue behind him cheer in support of this utterly inhuman plan from their sovereign. All except the young woman, whose blood runs cold. I can see in her eyes from here, she¡¯s imagining it. The bloodshed... The suffering... I may have painted too vivid a picture for her to handle, or maybe she already had the basic strokes down herself. Has she seen something like this before?

    I feel guilty. I reach out my heart to catch her in my power, even if I made her deal with this I can ensure she doesn''t have to deal with it alone. And in the presence of bravery she suddenly looks resolute. She has a duty, grim as it may be, and is determined to see it through.

    I may have helped her be a better enemy, but I couldn''t stand to see her in pain like that.

    "I believe you underestimate my lions, monsieur." Seems my brother has picked up my mistake, seeing as it offended this sovereign so. "When they run out of bullets and grenades, when they have no recourse left, they will fight with their teeth. When you return to what is, for now, your final refuge in Samnia, I would like you to remember something. Cats eat birds."

    As the Samnian delegates take their leave with a huff, the young woman amongst them gives one final look in my direction over her shoulder. Can she tell? Does she know I reached out my heart to her? ... No, that¡¯s ridiculous, impossible even, Surely!

    ¡°Well, I think we have all the motivation we need to put an end to the Kingdom of Samnia, don''t you agree?" Antoine gives his officers a smile, rallying some amount of enthusiasm.

    Admittedly I too desire the end of that man and his Kingdom... But I¡¯m not certain I can fight everyone in Ravenna for it. I couldn''t fight everyone in Alesia for Her Majesty after all, I have already failed exactly this. I¡¯m shaking... I shouldn''t be shaking.

    "That King has no godsdamned taste." Lazierte squeezes my hand, and whispers to me with equal parts cheek and concern. "I wouldn''t let anything he says get to you."

    "Y... Yeah." I realize quickly she¡¯s talking about the comments about my appearance, and I try to give her a smile. "... But he''s right though. I''m a mess."

    "Admittedly you don''t look like you''ve slept right in a while, but we can fix that." Lazierte turns to me with her painful sincerity. "Serena... I was wondering if maybe you might want to umm... Share a bed, like we used to? Y''know, before the big battle and all."

    I want to. It is clear she wants me to. I want to say yes, but I can''t. Not if I''d be sharing a tent with Her Majesty again. Not if I''d be getting between Lazierte and Her Majesty. If Lazierte ever learns what I had done to the Queen, what will she do? Maybe I deserve whatever she might do to me but I can''t bear to have Lazierte punish me for my sins.

    I can''t even bear to say no to her... I am a coward too. "... After we take Ravenna. I think I want to celebrate our victory together, you know?"

    Lazierte looks rather crestfallen, but she nods and forces a smile. "Well... We''ll certainly get through it, after all. You''re here... Even if you could stand to get stabbed a little less!"

    "Haaah... I''ll be careful. I know better what to watch out for now." I nervously chuckle, it¡¯s the only way to keep from screaming. "... I wouldn''t break a promise to you."

    "I know." There''s an awkward moment... And then Lazierte throws her arms around me, holding me tight. "I trust you, Serena."

    ... I gently put my arms around Lazierte as well, holding her softly, patting her back... Trying not to wail in pain. This cannot continue. I¡¯m a liar, I¡¯m a sinner, I have no worth and I am no good. I can¡¯t conquer Ravenna, I can¡¯t save her from the horrors that are coming. I can¡¯t share her bed, I can¡¯t face Her Majesty¡­ I can¡¯t even let her know that I have hurt our goddess, I¡¯m a coward. I¡¯m a fucking coward.

    Lazierte lets me free, and I run. I¡¯m not sure why I am running, or even how I am running, I simply flee. Breathlessly, painfully, I scramble back to the solitude of my tent, far away from the people I keep hurting¡­ But I can¡¯t outrun my pain. I can¡¯t outrun my sin. No matter where I run, I am still Serena Pollineux, and I have still done the things I¡¯ve done. I still deserve to be punished¡­ And I am still too much of a coward to let Lazierte do it.

    So¡­ Perhaps I should do it.

    ¡­ My eyes drift to my sword, and my mind casts itself back to that brief moment of peace I felt on the streets of Medhelanon, knowing I was about to die. The wound hurt, but the knowledge I was dying was comforting, it was simple. It was serene¡­ I know well enough how to give someone a quick and painless death now, I have been a monster long enough. So I truly am a coward, but at least¡­ At least I¡¯ll be punished. And at least I¡¯ll be at peace. I take the sword, I unsheathe it.

    And I hear Xena at the tent flap, speaking in her usual monotone. ¡°Drop it.¡±

    I obey, and then reach down to pick the sword up again, determined to solve the problem that was my sinful existence.

    ¡°Sit!¡±

    I obey, and before I can even struggle to get up again she approaches quickly and flicks me on the forehead, hard.

    ¡°Serena. I am going to ask you this once and I need you to be honest with me. Were you about to harm someone I love?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡­ How do I answer that? That¡¯s the problem with Xena¡¯s questions, they¡¯re always so impossible to answer! They¡¯re confusing, and the thinking always hurts, and I just want everything to be simple-

    ¡°Answer me!¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes I was.¡± ¡­ Okay maybe it wasn¡¯t impossible to answer after all.

    Xena flicks my forehead again, and now typical dullness is completely absent from her eyes, filled with the kind of anger only someone who loves something is capable of.

    ¡°Serena, this is not okay. People rely on you, people care about you. You are a thing that matters, and are worthy of more respect than this.¡±

    Respect? Respect?! ¡°I¡­ I am nothing worthy of your care, and nothing worthy of anyone¡¯s respect! I¡¯m a coward, Xena! I¡¯m a miserable fucking coward! And a monster, and a failure, and a sinner and-¡±

    She flicks my forehead again, somehow hurts just a little more every time no matter how forceful or gentle she is. ¡°I will not stand to hear such wrong-headed, disgusting insults slung at you. I will discipline anyone who does it and that includes you.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ They¡¯re all true, Xena! You¡¯re smart, you¡¯re smart enough that it¡¯s genuinely terrifying! You have to be able to see that these things are true-¡±

    Xena growls at me, a noise that sounds utterly alien coming from her throat. It¡¯s the kind of noise I¡¯d expect from Katarina, not our dull-eyed resident genius.

    ¡°If you really thought so highly of my intelligence then you¡¯d trust me when I say things. You are not a coward. You are not a monster. And I reject any god who would call you of all people a sinner.¡±

    I take a deep breath¡­ I¡¯ve been screaming, my throat is hoarse. I¡¯ve been screaming at Xena, right in her face, making her angry. I¡¯ve done her wrong, again. Why do I keep screwing up?

    ¡°... I shouldn¡¯t be yelling at you. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°I forgive you. No harm done.¡±

    I blink, completely unprepared for that. Forgiveness? So simple? I¡­ No! That¡¯s not right! I¡¯m a dreadful, awful thing! I can¡¯t just be forgiven-

    ¡°Serena, we need to talk.¡± She¡¯s trying to compose herself again, but the echo of that fury is still evident in every part of her form. ¡°We¡¯ve needed to talk since the moment we left Alesia. And now it cannot wait any longer¡­ Tell me what hurt you, so I can find a way to fix it.¡±

    ¡°What hurt me? ¡­ I hurt me, Xena. It has to have been me, nothing else makes sense! The things I want, the things I¡¯ve wanted, these are all harms I have brought upon myself. I¡¯m the problem-¡±

    "Haaaah..." Xena pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a seat on the bed beside me, clearly more than a little frustrated. "Fine, new approach. Just tell me everything you''re going through. In detail. Leave out nothing."

    Everything? I don''t even know where to start. But I have to start somewhere, Xena looks about ready to flick my forehead again and I don¡¯t think I can bear that again right now¡­ I should start with what made me run here. I just need to keep calm, take a deep breath-

    "Xena, I''m constantly hurting the people I love and I can''t stand it even though I''m just trying to protect them from me and also the Samnians and I want to die so I can stop hurting people but everyone wants me to live and I don''t know what to do and I''m scared and nothing makes sense and if Lazierte found out that Her Majesty rejected me then I don''t know what would happen between us and I don''t want to disappoint her and don''t want her disappointed in me and Pasche wants me to be with her and I want to be with her but I want to be with Lazierte and Celeste and you and Theophania and I don''t deserve any of you!"

    ... And then I take a second breath.

    Xena blinks, clearly she too is struggling to find where to start... "... You are aware of why it might hurt the people you love that you reject them so often, right?"

    "... Why? I''m only trying to-"

    Xena flicks me on the forehead, I think I¡¯m going to cry. "Because they love you too. You idiot."

    "I... What-"

    ¡°They love you too. You idiot."

    "Then... Then they should stop! They should stop immediately! I can''t stand hurting them like this!"

    Another flick, I am crying. "Then stop hurting them. Let them love you."

    "But I can''t! If I do... I''m not worthy of them!"

    Another flick, my heart aches like it¡¯s been in battle. "What do you really think is going to happen if you simply let yourself love who you love, Serena?"

    "I... I''ll hurt them! I''ll be bad for them, I''ll-"

    Another flick, this had to be how I felt when Her Majesty cast me aside. "You''re already hurting them, and being bad for them. How is changing that behavior going to produce the very same result?"

    "Because! ... Because I tried to love Katje... And I hurt her."

    "The Queen again..." Xena takes a deep breath through her nose, seemingly plotting a meticulous murder. "... You hurt her?"

    "I... I kissed her! And... Then... Did more things with her. She exposed her skin to me, I kissed and held her, and touched her, and then she pushed me away! I... I made her push me away. I... I forced myself on her-"

    "... You kissed her... And then things continued from there?"

    "She... She kissed me back-"

    "And then she... ''Exposed her skin''?"

    "She slid her shoulders out of the sleeves of her dress... Her breasts were beautiful. Truly magical, Xena..."

    "Right... And then you kissed her and touched her more."

    "I did... She... I really did think she was enjoying my touch."

    "And then she pushed you away... Did you continue after she did so?"

    "... Well... No. I... I didn''t know why, and I was shocked, and she told me no."

    "And once you told her no, you didn''t touch her anymore?"

    "I... I didn''t... But she wouldn''t have to say no if-"

    "The way you described it, she was perfectly accepting until she wasn''t. And you immediately withdrew when she wasn''t... Serena, what did you do wrong?"

    "I... I was supposed to save her. I was supposed to be hers, I was supposed to protect her! But I couldn''t... Because... Because I kissed her, and-"

    "And she rejected you. The way you''re rejecting us."

    "... I''m not a goddess, Xena. You do not have any obligation to belong to me-"

    "The Queen is not a goddess either, Serena."

    "She''s my- Owww!"

    Another flick to my forehead, I recoil in pain. "She''s just a person, Serena. You owe her nothing. What could make you think that she deserves to be worshiped? What makes you think she even deserves to be liked?"

    "... She... She saved me. By mustering me and the other girls, she saved me! And she saved me again in the Groves of Steel, I never would have been able to make sacrifices without her smile or her encouragement! She... She saved my life!"

    "Do you know why?"

    "I... What?"

    "Do you know why she saved you? Do you know why she smiled and encouraged you through the most horrifying experience you''d ever had in your life?"

    "... No... She''s a goddess! She doesn''t need a reason-"

    "Serena... People don¡¯t just do things for no reason. People certainly don¡¯t just do things for strangers for no reason. I¡¯ve met your Queen, your Katje, and I can tell you now I don¡¯t see a philanthropist saving girls from sad fates in La¡¯an¡­ I see a schemer, and an incompetent one who is in over her head. If she did those things for you, she did them for a reason."

    A reason? But what reason could she possibly have? The only thing she had to gain from saving me was¡­ Was me. But she didn¡¯t want me! She cast me aside, she¡­ She cast me aside because I kissed her, because I loved her. No, she wanted a monster, didn¡¯t she?

    ¡°She did these things¡­ Because she wanted me to be her monster?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past her. She¡¯s been exploiting you from the start as far as I¡¯m concerned, having you to do her bidding. It¡¯s just slavery again, with worship instead of chains. It¡¯s boring, It¡¯s so horribly boring.¡±

    Xena''s eyes hold no hint of boredom, nor of her usual tiredness. They¡¯re full of disgust, contempt... Wrath. If she were anyone other than herself, she''d be screaming... She... She truly, utterly hates my goddess. On a primal, fundamental level she wants my goddess to die.

    "... You don''t look bored, Xena. You look angry."

    This raises an eyebrow from Xena, who looks at me quizzically. "Slavery is entirely normal. People accept it or engage in it everywhere. It''s ordinary... It''s an ordinary thing to force someone to be and do whatever you want... It happens so often, and is so ''easy'', that it must be boring... This feeling I have, what could it possibly be in the face of something so normal?"

    Hating what¡¯s normal¡­ It¡¯s what Celeste and Rosierte do, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s what the Historian would have me do. I have punished and hurt and hated myself since Her Majesty cast me aside for failing to live up to some ¡®normal¡¯... But that same normal puts people in chains and fills Xena with disgust. Someone as smart as her struggles with these same things, and yet¡­ It all seems so silly seeing it from the outside¡­ It¡¯s so clear to me when it¡¯s someone else¡¯s problem.

    "Xena..." I lean upwards, and reach out a hand to pet Xena''s head. "You''re allowed to hate normal things... You''re allowed to be disgusted with the ordinary. And you''re allowed to be right, even though everyone else is wrong."

    "... If I hated it, if I were disgusted with it... I''d be disgusted with almost everyone on Lutice. I''d hate almost everyone in the world."

    I can almost hear Celeste¡¯s voice creeping into my own. I miss her. "You hate the idea that''s poisoned them, and the world that made them think it was okay. That world is something that can be changed, and can change the ordinary people around it... Ordinary people are just that, they''ll be okay with whatever is normal. So, if normal isn''t okay then you just have to change what normal is... And that takes a lot of disgust, Xena. It takes a lot of hate. Because it takes a lot of care..."

    "Change the world... Change the normal with my hate?"

    "Exactly! ... You''re smart. I know you can do it. It''s exactly what Auguste and Celeste are trying to do too. You aren''t even alone in hating this, of course you''re allowed to-"

    Xena leans in and kisses me. And pushes me back down onto the bed, straddling my hips and firmly planting each of her hands on either side of my head. It¡¯s done so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that it takes me completely off-guard. She has me beneath her... To my shame, I find it more than a little stimulating. I feel cared for. I feel wanted.

    Xena meanwhile is apparently feeling venomous, and tears form in the corners of her eyes. "I hate your Queen. I hate her for what she did to you. I hate her for turning such a fascinating young woman into her cultist, and now her flagellant... I hate that you could have so much love in you, if only she hadn''t taken it for herself..."

    What Katje did to me? ¡­ She had been so sad in my presence... Guilty? Does Katje know what she did? ¡­ Did Katje know what her rejection would do to me, after making me crave being in Her Majesty¡¯s service?

    Am I hurting everyone I love by rejecting them after making them crave me? "Xena..."

    "You deserved better, Serena. You deserve better. And even if you think you don''t, we all believe you do. And we''re going to give it to you, no matter how long it takes. No matter how many tears it takes-"

    I lean up and kiss her. I want her to have my lips, I want to have hers... I don''t want to hurt her anymore. I... I don''t know what to think about Her Majesty, about the idea she might have hurt me. But at least I know I will no longer commit the sin of making beautiful women cry.

    Xena accepts the kiss... And is surprisingly clumsy. I hadn¡¯t noticed before, but she knows nothing of this, much like Theophania. Passionate and amateur, it¡¯s genuinely, overwhelmingly beautiful to see Xena doing something she isn''t incredibly knowledgeable about. It makes me want to teach her more things.

    She pulls her lips away from mine so she can breathe, and smile. "... This is why you''re so fascinating, Serena. Because you''re so honest and you''re so sincere. Because you''re so you... I love you most when you are you."

    I shake... I¡¯ve been trying to be a monster ever since we left Alesia, to stop myself from being exactly myself. Trying to be ''General Pollineux''... But Xena, she doesn''t want me to be a monster. She''d never ask me to be one. I... I¡­

    I put a hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You... You don''t mind me being Serena? You... You want to know what Serena''s like?"

    "Please."

    Xena gently strokes my hair, an irresistible encouragement. Xena is going to learn a thing or two about lovemaking in a siege camp in a foreign country.

    She¡¯s going to learn a thing or two about Serena.

 Chapter Fifty Two

    Xena ended up exhausted only a little after midnight, falling asleep in my arms on my bed. But it took me a little while longer to get to sleep myself, not quite satisfied even after a lot of teaching. I ended up borrowing the fingers of a serenely sleeping Xena, finally passing out some time in the night.

    And I am woken only a few hours later, just as the sun begins to rise. A titanic shriek shoots its way across the world, something so alien and terrible that I almost flinch right off my bed at the sound of it. Only being wrapped up in Xena keeps me from the floor... The sound is loud enough to break Xena¡¯s very deep sleep, whatever made that noise must be horrifying.

    She stirs, and looks at me quizzically. "That noise wasn''t you, was it?"

    I shake my head, wondering just how loud I must have been if Xena thinks I could make anything even approaching that noise."N... No... I don''t think a human being could make that noise. Not even Katarina."

    "Oh... Sounds fascinating." She yawns, then looks down to notice our entangled state of undress. "... We should probably get dressed and investigate then, shouldn''t we?"

    "... I don''t want to get dressed just yet. I certainly don''t want you to be dressed just yet."

    Xena giggles, before reaching out to pet my head. "Good. Being honest about what you want."

    "I guess you''ve just domesticated me well." I¡¯m trying to snark, but it¡¯s hard not to smile with her hand in my hair.

    Xena finds it less amusing, looking me over carefully as she continues to stroke me. "About that... Flicking your forehead and petting you isn''t precisely intensive brainwashing or anything... And yet you are very susceptible to it. You do what I say quickly when you understand the task, you display fairly violent reactions to each trigger... Serena, I think you might be uniquely susceptible to suggestion."

    I blink, trying to apply Xena''s speculations to any understanding of reality. "Are you saying I¡¯m easy to brainwash? ¡­ Why?"

    "Well... You seem to be stuck in your brother''s shadow, according to Pasche you have more than a few misgivings about your family, you''re a long way from home, you didn''t have many friends until recently, and... You like to trust people. You''re always sincere and honest, it''s not hard to believe that you might want others to be honest with you as well, right?"

    I¡¯m lost for words. Xena has done her homework on me. On me of all people. I must be remarkably fascinating to her, for her to pay so much attention to what I¡¯ve told her, and find so much information I hadn''t-

    "Wait, Pasche told you about my family history?"

    "She was worried about you. I was worried about you. And the two of us talk a lot when I administer her medicine. I''ve been using the time to teach her German."

    "... I guess I did worry you both a great deal. I can understand it."

    "You don''t need to be scared about me knowing your history. You don''t need to keep any secrets from me."

    "... Even if I use your fingers to get off while you''re sleeping?"

    Xena looks at her free hand, and gently pops a finger in her mouth, savoring it for a moment before removing it. "Even if that, yes."

    That is an absolutely abnormal thing that no normal person would think to do... I want to do it too. I gently open my mouth, and Xena very quickly figures out what I want, offering me her ring finger.

    "Xena! Officers! Where''s Serena!?"

    Katarina slips into my tent, clearly in something of a hurry, and finds the two of us naked. Oh dear, oh gods... Katarina and Xena are sweet on one another, aren''t they? Xena put so much effort in making sure I lived last night and now I might just have gotten myself killed anyway. Katarina reaches out a hand toward me, and I see my life flashing before my eyes. It was a very bizarre life, but somehow I only regret not doing this with Xena sooner. Not pushing over Pasche sooner... Not telling Lazierte and Theophania that I love them sooner¡­

    Katarina rubs my head with a playful flair, giving me a smile... I am not at all being murdered. Odd. Maybe Katarina is like me, and knows what it¡¯s like to love more than one person?

    "Haaaah, guess our morning is definitively over, huh?" Xena slips out of our shared bed and goes to reclaim her clothes, ones I managed to mostly remove from her without breaking them. "... Did you have to break my brassiere? It''s hard to find them in my size you know."

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "I''m sorry, I''m overly enthusiastic!" Shamefully, my eyes drift over to Xena''s form as she attempts to get dressed, wanting one last glimpse of her chest. "And I can be remarkably clumsy around clothing it turns out."

    "Haaaah. I guess that''s just another part of you." There¡¯s a smile in her voice as she dresses herself, simply going without her damaged garment.

    Katarina finds my own clothes strewn haphazardly around my tent, and offers them to me with a smile. She¡¯s being remarkably helpful this morning, and is dramatically unfazed by the whole ''me being naked'' thing. Katarina¡¯s an odd sort. I know I¡¯m not supposed to speculate about her body, but would Xena forgive me for speculating about what goes on in her head? Or whatever part of her thoughts come from, seeing as she doesn''t have a working brain for the purposes of my magic... Maybe I should get Xena to teach me German too, so I could learn what my cannibal mercenary was all about.

    She''s capable of such gentleness¡­

    She mentioned officers, I need to actually get dressed rather than idly speculating all day. I quickly slip on my clothes and boots, whatever the officers are meeting about is probably related to that terrible shriek. Anything that can make that noise is not something I can ignore... At least, now that Xena is dressed it is not something I can ignore. As soon as I have my boots on I slip out of my tent, soon joined by Xena and Katarina... And find the officers standing outside the command tent in utter shock, staring out at the city of Ravenna. I look past them, trying to find what has transfixed them.

    And I hear the shriek again. I see the maw that produced it. Perched upon the Royal Palace of Ravenna is an eagle, taller than a clocktower, larger than any eagle is capable of being... And completely without a head. Its headless neck-stump opens wide so the beast can scream, before diving into the city proper... A monster that big could do a lot of damage. It could rip our army to pieces if we aren''t ready to fight it. We need to wake the men, we need to get the cannons brought forward, we need to get into formation right now!

    "Could someone please explain to me what exactly we are seeing?!" Antoine is the first among the officers to regain the ability to speak, and with it the ability to ask panicked questions. "What godless thing is this?!"

    "Not godless..." A priest in steel scales breathlessly speaks, apparently having run here in his heavy steel robes. "That... That is a monster of Steel. In a kingdom''s most dire moments, they can be summoned to protect the monarchy."

    "I... Steel has his very own monsters?" Antoine''s voice knows terror for the first time in his entire life. "Why? Why?!"

    "It takes a special sacrifice that can only be performed by a member of the royal family, and only in the face of an existential threat... The monster represents the state itself, the head is upon the banner so the headless creature represents the subjects of the state-"

    Steel is apparently determined to become my least favorite god... And I am already a sinner, I may as well be a heretic too. "How do we kill it?"

    The priest turns to stare at me. As does Antoine, and the rest of the officers, still rapt with fear. It¡¯s almost too much to face all at once, until I feel a hand on my shoulder. Katarina''s hand... She¡¯s smiling. And it¡¯s clearly a smile in the presence of understanding. She knows exactly what I am proposing we do.

    The priest manages to stammer out a confused answer to my question, and not an especially helpful one. "No one ever has... There''s no record of one ever being felled. It... It would be the end of a Kingdom-"

    "Then let''s figure it out!" Katarina''s hand on my shoulder has me feeling bizarrely bold, as if I can take the beast single-handedly. "We are an army! We have cannons and rifles and grenades, and courage! Not a man among you disagreed when we resolved to kill this odious monarchy just the day before, and here it is, with actual wings waiting for us to do so! This will not stop us, it just gives us a bigger target! Our enemy has to resort to summoning ancient monsters to halt our advance, we should not fear these weaklings!"

    The officers look amongst each other nervously, not sure what to think, until they hear Antoine applaud my speech, having regained his usual smug confidence. "You''re right! You are absolutely right, sis! This beast is nothing to be afraid of! It is merely the enemy showing their neck, letting us know we have already beaten them! We must seize the initiative, and take this city now!"

    At Antoine''s encouragement the officers are immediately filled with morale again, cheering their inevitable victory... At least they¡¯re going to be moving. There¡¯s no reason to let this sting.

    Xena emerges from behind me, apparently having taken the time everyone spent scared and depressed to find a spyglass, which she uses to observe the city. "The bird isn''t coming to attack us. It wasn''t summoned to repel an attack from our forces, it doesn''t seem like they were scared of us at all... The bird is attacking Ravenna itself."

    This shuts everyone up in an instant. The King summoned this beast to lay waste to his own city? Right before a major battle with the Avernian army? Insanity. That¡¯s the only possible explanation, this is the product of genuine insanity. And gods and their monsters still answer the call of the insane.

    We need to attack immediately if we are to save the city of Ravenna from its own defenders. "I''ll wake my men. Xena, can I trust you with the cannons once again?"

    "Serena can trust me with anything."

    Even after seeing that giant beast she can still so brazenly say things that make me want to kiss her. But for now I''ll have to settle for letting her blast a giant bird to pieces with artillery. I can''t resist putting a hand on her shoulder for the briefest moment, running my thumb over it through the cloth of her dress, just to let her know that everything would be okay... Assuming she understands my little signals. Whether she understands or not, she rushes to the cannons. Katarina meanwhile gives me a salute and runs off to assemble her priests, eager to fight that giant creature in person.

    I check my sword, and my gun. They are pitifully tiny things compared to what we are up against, but so am I, and I''ve made it this far. And perhaps destroying an entire Kingdom is supposed to be a little scary. But this victory might earn us some respite, might give the people I love some measure of safety and security. Might buy me some time to work on redressing some of my mistakes.

    The first step on that road is for Serena to kill the Kingdom of Samnia.

 Chapter Fifty Three

    Our troops, their uniforms eschew and kit haphazard, have been deployed to storm the walls of Ravenna as quickly as possible, so that we can protect as much of the city as possible from the monster of Steel. And as we approach the Samnian fortifications, we are met with musket fire. Not a great deal of musket fire, their defenses aren¡¯t fully manned, but it¡¯s still enough to utterly baffle me. The emissary of a bloodthirsty god is tearing their homes apart, how can they possibly think fighting their liberators is a priority?! It hardly matters though, our cannons have been dragged into position in good time, and they blast the soldiers who dared open fire upon us. There is no more opposing musket fire anymore, only abandoned walls marked with broken bodies and heavy steel balls. Xena is once again scarily effective in the right role.

    Shame we can''t bring her or her cannons inside the walls.

    From now on, this is a job for the infantry, my specialty. At the head of my troops, I am the first to rappel over the now abandoned walls, followed soon after by Pasche. Katarina''s priests are right behind us, cheering as their commander claws her way up the walls like a cat running up a tree, her halberd in her teeth. She gives a bow when she gets up, clearly expecting applause. And I can''t help but indulge her, it¡¯s just too precious. Pasche does the same, though with her chainmail gloves the sound is odd. Now we just have to wait for the rest of the infantry-

    Or Katarina''s troops could run off on their own, each one eager to butcher an agent of the divine. Being Serena is hard. I run after them, Pasche runs after me, and soon we find ourselves in the streets of Ravenna, forming ranks to face any possible resistance. We find none.

    We find corpses.

    The bodies of Samnian soldiers litter the streets, accompanied by the bodies of Samnian citizens. They clearly slaughtered one another... The dead citizens each have a blue armband, and are armed with muskets and bayonets, military issue just like the Samnian soldiery. What is going on here?

    We hear another mighty shriek, and see the giant eagle barrel itself into a block of row houses, crushing them, and presumably their occupants along with them. I draw my pistol and fire at the beast... And the beast has absolutely no reaction whatsoever.

    It doesn''t even hear the sound. It merely moves on to its next target, apparently seeing us as beneath its notice... Looking at the ruined houses, some of the bodies amongst the rubble had blue armbands...

    I put the pieces together pretty quickly after that. "That bird is hunting down the citizens of Samnia! It''s killing people who are trying to resist the monarchy!"

    "Guess the King wasn''t as loved and protected as he thought." Pasche tries to cut the tension... And fails. "Are you sure we can fight that thing?"

    "Won''t know if we don''t try, Pasche." I give her my best smile, but I certainly can''t take away this atmosphere either. "First thing''s first is to try to get that bird to pick on someone with an army. So we need to find where that thing is going next, and intercept it."

    "... How''re we supposed to do that?"

    "Well, it''s looking for the citizens, and the citizens are fighting the Samnian army..." I gesture to the bodies of Samnian troops and then trace a line to the next pile. "If we follow the fighting backward, we''ll be able to see where the people of Ravenna started from. Presuming they''re still holding that location, I''m sure that bird is looking for it."

    "... You are almost scarily good at coming up with plans, has anyone ever told you that, Serena?" Pasche''s eyes can''t decide if they¡¯re impressed or terrified.

    "I absolutely have not been told that, no."

    "Well... Something to keep in mind." Pasche manages a smile, clearly deciding she¡¯s impressed, before giving a shout in German which seems to mean something to the Greenjackets.

    Soon we¡¯re following the trail of violence, a long and storied trail of violence... And we find ourselves at one of those ''churches'' that the Samnians build. A church with steel decorations, with banners depicting swords and crowns. And with the Kingdom of Samnia flag replaced with a slapdash red flag, with a crude drawing of an impaled Eagle drawn upon it. Outside a fair few militia members stood guard, each with civilian clothing but with Samnian army kit. These were much better armed militia then I''d ever seen before. And despite that, they were terrified, jumping to attention upon seeing us approach... And being utterly confused at the sight of us.

    One of them shouts something in Samnian, something that immediately makes me miss Xena. All I can do is step forward with my hands raised, and hope literally any of them know Avernian.

    "We are the Avernian army!" I turn and notice that it¡¯s literally only Pasche and I in Avernian colors, surrounded by greenjackets and a bear. "... And their allies! We have come to overthrow the King and liberate Ravenna-''''

    A surprisingly familiar face emerges from the church, that woman from yesterday. She too has a blue armband, it honestly suits her better than the finery I saw her in last. She shouts something, and the militia immediately stop pointing their muskets at us, the tension much diffused.

    And mercifully, she speaks Avernian very well. "You are Serena Pollineux, right?"

    I nod, letting my hands return to my sides now that the threat is gone. "That''s correct. I remember you, you didn''t seem especially happy-"

    "Hehe... Let''s perhaps commiserate some other time, signora." She laughs nervously, trying to force herself on topic as much as me. "I didn''t want to let our dear sovereign get us all killed. I thought if I could establish a militia and seize the armories before anyone caught on to what we were doing, we could decapitate the Samnian monarchy without much bloodshed... I didn''t count on that giant bird."

    "Thankfully we''re here to clip its wings." Gods I wish that I was dashing and gallant right now. "We''ll take care of it."

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    "I believe you." ... Does she actually believe that I¡¯m dashing and gallant right now? "Yeah! I know you can do it!"

    Pasche shifts uncomfortably, trying not to glare at this woman, which the well-dressed Samnian woman doesn¡¯t notice. She¡¯s too busy trying not to stare at me with bright, reverent eyes... Oh dear. Oh dear, I may have made my life a lot more complicated.

    "It''s more than just us of course, we just deployed here quickly because-" My explanation is cut off by another shriek, one that is getting closer. "Because of that! Soldiers, form up!"

    The priests of Leather are less than interested in maintaining formation, even in the face of this titanic beast they are still utterly impetuous. One even charges the thing immediately, jumping up and trying to swing his leather bayonet upon it.

    The bird shrieks at the brave man as he leaps at it. He is torn to pieces by the sheer power of the noise, the flesh being stripped from his bones and splattering on the ground before us. The rest of the priests aren''t scared, but they are certainly a lot quicker to get into a firing line after that. Everyone gets in position, and the beast charges.

    "Open fire!"

    I gesture at the beast with my sword, and soon it is utterly peppered with gunfire. Its charge is halted by a wall of lead, and it flies up into the air to try and escape our gunfire and swoop us. It is immediately struck by a cannonball, and recoils from the impact, crashing back to the ground... It genuinely looks hurt. We can actually hurt it!

    We just have to get it airborne. We just had to hit it with another volley... The priests are still reloading, apparently finding it awkward to do so around their Leather bayonets. The beast is almost upon us again, there isn''t enough time!

    ... I have to make time. I charge.

    I run towards it, then throw myself to the side when it opens its maw, confusing it and turning its head away from the Leather fanatics. I swing my sword at its maw as it turns, but my sword bounces off its feathers uselessly.. It¡¯s facing me again, staring right at me with its beady eyes. I am nothing to it, and I will return to nothing when it strikes. It rears up to bite me.

    And is punched right in its bizarre, fleshy neck stump by an airborne Pasche, like a cannonball with fists... Is Xena teaching her to fly too? I turn my head and see Katarina wink at me before returning to her troops. Did she throw Pasche? At a giant bird?! It certainly works, the bird''s maw is successfully parried, and Pasche even lands beside me alive.

    ... And mostly unharmed, though her glove is busted and her hand is bleeding. And yet, she¡¯s smiling. Smiling right at me. I expected her to be mad at me, charging this beast, but she¡¯s smiling. I grab her hand and examine it carefully. She''ll need a trip to Xena after this.

    "... I just punched a giant bird." Pasche is such an idiot. Such a cute idiot.

    "I saw." I can tell Pasche is in pain, and yet she keeps it out of her voice well.

    "I''d do it again. I''d do anything to keep you safe. No matter what."

    ... If that giant bird wasn''t getting back up I''d probably have kissed Pasche right there and then, and I cannot be certain I would stop, even in front of the Greenjackets and the Samnian militia. But that giant bird is getting back up, and I have to get myself to my feet, drag Pasche to hers, and run! I can hear it behind us, preparing for another scream.

    But Katarina screams her order first, and there is another volley of musket fire which slams into the side of the beast. It shrieks in frustration and flies up again, determined to crash down upon us... And once again, it faces a cannonball, slamming into its body and making it wail with pain. On unsteady wings, it flies back towards the Royal Palace of Samnia, perhaps looking for respite, room to recover.

    Which we can''t allow it to do. We''ll have to chase it right to the palace. It has to die for this to be over.

    The Greenjackets are celebrating their victory, cheering and shouting, while a few unfortunates among them get to the task of picking up the flesh of their shredded comrade. Katarina gave a mighty scream to the heavens, as if taunting Steel himself in the name of her goddess. I am beyond convinced that her voice can shred a man as easily as that bird had, her screams are something else entirely. But she''s earned that horrifying revelry as far as I¡¯m concerned.

    Which is no comfort to the woman in the blue armband, who looks almost as terrified of Katarina as she is utterly enchanted by me. Still, she manages to ignore my bear friend to return her full attention to me. She rushes over with a beaming smile, and takes my hand with the grace of a gentleman.

    "You... You''re amazing!" Her eyes are so full of stars I have no idea how she¡¯s managing to see me right in front of her. "You really did save us!"

    I can feel Pasche grab my other hand and squeeze it, but her attention is entirely on the Samnian.

    We have no time for this, I need to cut this focus on me short. "Well, it was the effort of the Avernian Army. And we''re not done just yet! We still have to take the palace!"

    "Right! I''ll get the men organized and-"

    "Hang on just a minute, madam!" Pasche speaks up, apparently needing to speak her mind to this interloper. "You should stay here! You and yours have work to do securing the city, and honestly, I don''t think you''re quite up to fighting this giant fucking bird. So maybe you should leave this to the professionals, that way me and my girl can liberate your country for you, yeah?"

    The woman holding my other hand is briefly taken aback, before looking at me, begging me to contradict Pasche. And I am about to... But not in any way either of them would like.

    "Pasche, your hand is broken. I need you to stay here and recover-"

    "Oh come on!" Pasche steps forward, trying to stand between me and the new girl while still holding my hand. "I''m fine! It''s not as bad as it looks!"

    The new girl reaches out and gently pokes Pasche''s wounded hand, getting a girlish scream of pain out of her. Which is appreciated in terms of convincing Pasche to not fling herself into an eagle''s mouth but less so in hurting my comrade.

    "See? She''s injured. You should take me with you instead!"

    "Bullshit, I''m fine-"

    I cast my magic over both of them almost out of impulse... This was the first time I¡¯ve been in Pasche''s heart for a while now. "Pasche, you''re hurt. Please, for my sake, keep yourself safe until Xena can treat your hand?"

    Pasche¡¯s eyes are wide and her pupils, the sensation is so stark that she¡¯s rendered unable to speak, merely nodding her head in approval to my request.

    I give her a smile by way of reward, before turning my attention to the Samnian Gentlewoman. "Mademoiselle, I wish to entrust Pasche to your care. She''s very precious to me, but I know you can be trusted with her. I believe in you."

    She produces a high-pitched squeak, her whole body wracked by a shudder. She, like Pasche, cannot produce any words, she simply nods her approval as well, while squealing. Slowly I let both of their hands go, and allow the new girl to escort Pasche into the church. Hopefully someone in there could treat Pasche''s wounds... I keep my heart open to them until the distance makes it sting, leaving me hoping that the two of them will be okay in my absence.

    Katarina approaches me and salutes... I don''t speak German, this is going to be hard... But we have a bird to kill.

    "Want to eat the servant of a god, Katarina?"

    The bear woman grinned, she might''ve even understood a word or two of what she was agreeing to. It sounded exactly like something Katarina would agree to.

 Chapter Fifty Four

    Our mad dash to the Palace faces a great deal of ''almost'' difficulties. At times our bird-hunting band runs into soldiers of the Samnian garrison, who try their best to resist our advance before being mauled by the resurgent militia emboldened by the Eagle''s retreat, or by Avernian troops sweeping the town. It¡¯s a bloodbath, but at least without that bird it¡¯s mostly a bloodbath for the people who deserve it. I can muster no sympathy for those on the side of the King.

    I¡¯m too busy running after all.

    I have no idea what that bird might be capable of, but knowing Steel it likely isn''t doing anything pleasant, and I''d rather it die now before it can surprise me any further... Presuming it can die at all¡­

    "It has to be able to die. It knows how to fear."

    Like that King, come to think of it. Like the former High King of Avernia, come to think of it... Hopefully whatever Republic my brother ends up making here is nothing like our Convention of Humanity. Killing kingdoms is hard work, I¡¯d prefer not to replace it with something just as bad. Katarina tilts her head at my little comment, probably wondering what Avernian nonsense I¡¯m spouting... She¡¯s a grown-up too, isn''t she? Yet I can''t even begin to imagine her worried about the fate of the world, the political situation of La''an, or much of anything really. She looks too impervious to be even mildly concerned by such things, and far too eager about simply doing as she likes. She really is more of a cat than a bear.

    By the time I''ve finished running laps inside my own head our little avian execution regiment has made its way to the palace walls, which might have been difficult to scale over if there wasn''t a giant eagle shaped hole in them. The monster must have retreated into the palace proper, and was perfectly willing to make its own entrance to it... Well, at least we know where it''ll be.

    As we wander through the hole in the wall we notice Samnian soldiers around us... Surrendering. These are especially well-dressed troops, and skew slightly older- This is the King''s honor guard! The ones who accompanied him and his retinue yesterday. And here they are, throwing down their muskets and raising their hands. It¡¯s probably their best move, we would have carved them into meat otherwise. But it¡¯s always a nice surprise, seeing people actually taking the best move.

    There¡¯s hardly time to take prisoners though, and they are smart enough to surrender. Maybe I can spare them from Steel''s sacrifices today. After all, I¡¯m already murdering his monster today. I almost shout for the men to run away, before realizing they won''t be able to me. So I point vaguely in the direction of ''not here'' and hope that they understand my meaning. Mercifully they seem to, and they all start running, some throwing off their medal-adorned uniform jackets as they go. Hopefully they¡¯ll be okay. Hopefully they won''t make anyone else not okay.

    I look to Katarina, I can''t imagine she¡¯s happy with me letting potential morsels run off into the distance. To my surprise she looks utterly ambivalent. One of her Greenjackets steals some medals from an abandoned jacket, but apart from that they have utterly no reaction to my mercy... It distresses me that the priests that make the most sense to me are those of the goddess of death.

    No time to dwell on that now though, sympathetic oddballs or not, we¡¯re hunting down a bird together. I draw my sword and charge into the palace, not bothering to give a speech to people who won¡¯t be able to understand me anyway. Katarina and her Greenjackets follow, eager to begin the hunt again, speech or no.

    We make our way through shattered and collapsed hallways, following a trail of devastation to where the bird is hiding. We find crushed servants and guards in our path. Seems the defender of the Samnian Monarchy can¡¯t spare any consideration for Samnia''s people, willing to kill loyal servants out of sheer convenience. Disgusting. I will burn this entire institution until not even ash remains.

    The beast has made its way to the throne room of the palace, limping and covered in dust from the masonry it had crushed on its way there. The King of Samnia meets it there, with a woman I must assume is the Queen, two children I assume must be his... And a sword. He looks displeased, sneering at that bird. He doesn¡¯t even glance at us.

    "Is this all a sacrifice is worth? You pathetic creature, how dare you fail to protect my throne!?"

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.The bird makes a mournful cry... It¡¯s bleeding. It looks pathetic, injured like this. It¡¯s weak... It feels almost wrong killing it-

    "Well fine, two sacrifices then. One for the traitors and one for the Avernians!"

    The King plunged his sword right into one of the children, the eldest-looking one, a boy. A boy of only nine. I catch the briefest glimpse of the Queen looking away, covering her daughter''s eyes...

    The Steel Eagle''s bones reform before our eyes, its skin and sinew knit themselves back together... A sacrifice by the royal family, that''s what that Steel Priest said. Our gods are truly sick and twisted puppetmasters.

    The monster turns to face us once again, now reinvigorated and far less pathetic. I had pitied this horrible beast, and now it''s eager to kill me again. I will not make that mistake again. I charge, determined to slash it to pieces myself now that it has nowhere to run. I will make it bleed again. Katarina follows, and then overtakes me, jumping higher than any human is capable of with her halberd raised. The beast screams right at her, and for a moment I am stunned in shock, wondering if I¡¯m about to watch Katarina die.

    The scream is enough to destabilize the ceiling, collapsing part of the building upon the Greenjackets, forcing them to retreat. Katarina''s flesh tears, but only in places, and while her halberd is snapped in half by the sheer power of the scream, Katarina simply uses her teeth when she lands. And with her teeth, she bites the bird''s throat. It tries to scream again, but it barely manages a sad whine, Katarina has ripped the bird''s vocal cords. She doesn''t even eat them, spitting them in the face of the bird, causing it to recoil. It¡¯s honestly stunning... I almost don''t notice that Katarina''s wounds aren''t bleeding.

    I also almost don''t notice that the Greenjackets are now on the other side of a pile of rubble, desperately trying to dig through to us. Katarina and I are now alone in the throne room with the bird. It immediately lunges at a now-landed Katarina, eager to take a bite out of her.

    I rush to her defense, putting my sword in the bird¡¯s mouth to wedge its mouth open. It works just long enough for Katarina to get out of the way before my sword cracks and shatters in its mouth. Which leaves me completely unarmed. I throw a fallen piece of ceiling at the monster, only for it, myself, and Katarina to go flying into the rubble as the bird buffets us back with its wings. Katarina hits first, I can hear the thud of her heavy body hitting the broken masonry. I know it¡¯s my turn next... And I¡¯m a lot squishier than her, and a lot less likely to survive it.

    Only, I don''t hit broken masonry. I hit Katarina, who had pounced from where she landed to break my fall. It¡¯s still enough to hurt, it¡¯s still more than enough to disorient me... But I¡¯m alive. Alive in the same place as Katarina, and the bird can eat us both with a single bite. It strikes... And Katarina screams right in its face.

    My ears feel wet. I can''t hear anything but a loud ringing. I feel tears forming in my eyes... And the bird is stopped in its tracks, recoiling in abject horror. I always knew Katarina''s screams were lethal. Had she been aiming that right at me, I likely would no longer have a head at all. Katarina gently puts me aside, saying something I probably couldn''t understand even if I could hear it, and then charges the bird head-on while it¡¯s recovering. It tries to simply collapse atop her, to force its entire giant weight upon Katarina... But she manages to hold her ground, arms above her head, nails digging into the beast''s skin. I can see it bleeding... I can see Katarina wavering.

    Maybe there are weights even she can''t lift.

    I try to get to my feet, but every time I move my head the entire world rolls down a hill, and I feel horribly nauseous. It¡¯s hopeless, I¡¯m hopeless. All I can do is watch this bird bleed, and watch Katarina die.

    I feel vibrations from behind me, and foolishly turn my head to face them. Once the world stops trying to kill my stomach I see the rubble has been blasted to pieces by grenades, and a familiar face is leading Avernian troops into the throne room, forming them up in rows. She¡¯s saved me again. Lazierte has saved me again. Her troops pour shot upon the creature, which recoils from Katarina. When it tries to regain its bearings and attack, the 505th pelt it with grenades... And it does not dodge them. In a final act of stupid loyalty, it wraps its wings around the Royal Family, shielding them from the blasts with its body.

    The explosions tear it apart, a husk of broken bones and burned feathers is all that remains of the monster of Steel. Nothing worth eating for Katarina''s sake. Not that she seems to care, her attention is entirely on me. She bounds over to check up on me, doing her best Xena impression to see if I¡¯m okay. I¡¯m not, but I''m starting to regain my bearings. Noises are starting to exist again.

    I can hear the footfalls of Avernian boots as Lazierte''s troops secure the room, I can hear the troops reloading, and even hear some of them cheer. I can hear Katarina babble in a language I don''t know as she holds me with a shocking gentleness.

    And I can hear the Samnian King continue to be an odious little man. "... Alright then, I think this might be a good time to renegotiate."

 Chapter Fifty Five

    "So if you''ll just bring that Antoine fellow to me then he and I can-"

    Lazierte draws her pistol and shoots the King of Samnia in the face. He falls, his crown slipping off his head as he collapses backward, dead before he hits the floor. I can''t say I feel sorry for him, a vile man just died and the entire world is a better place for it. I am concerned for the Queen however, and the former King''s surviving daughter, who looks on in horror as that same vile man bleeds on the floor, along with his sacrificed son. I slip free of Katarina and take a stumbling step closer. I don''t know a word of Samnian but maybe I can offer the woman some comfort. I know I can¡¯t open my heart to her, filling her with intoxicating bravery isn¡¯t an appropriate response to nearly her entire family dying, but-

    Lazierte draws her sword and points the tip at the mother and child.

    I stumble more urgently, what is Lazierte doing?! She raises the sword above her head, ready to bring it down upon the Queen and her daughter. Her hand is shaking, her breathing is heavy. She¡¯s hesitating. Which gives me just enough time to shamble my way between her and the two Samnians.

    "Lazierte!" My arms are out to my sides, I am still hunched over from pain and disorientation... But I can speak again. "What are you doing?!"

    "Serena! Get out of the way!" Lazierte is trembling. "... We said we were going to end the Samnian Kingdom. End the monarchy... That''s what I''m doing!"

    "Lazierte, the King is already dead! The Kingdom''s already crumbling as we speak-"

    "So long as the line of succession exists someone can try to put a king back on this throne. And people will!" My best friend is short of breath, I can smell her sweating. "Do you really think the people of Samnia are going to simply follow the whims of their foreign conquerors and become a republic? Do you think they even understand the concept of a republic?! I don''t! And I''m from Avernia, where the world''s biggest republic keeps trying to happen!"

    "Lazierte, I know you can''t do this. Please, Lazierte. Please, please don''t do this to yourself-"

    "I have to do it! Otherwise our work will never be done! We''ll simply have to conquer Samnia every time some new king or queen is elevated by the mob, and watch it be reconquered by our cowardice! This is the only way to make this war end!" There are tears in Lazierte''s eyes. "The war has to end... I can''t keep letting it drag the one I love into danger!"

    ... Lazierte is willing to kill for Her Majesty. I had been willing to do the same, I even did so. But, a child? ... Maybe I have no right to interfere between Lazierte and Katje, but I can''t allow Lazierte to do this! I can''t let her have this on her conscience.

    "Lazierte, I know how you feel. But you can''t allow your love to force you to do things you aren''t okay with. Things you could never take back. No-one who truly loves you would make you do this-"

    "Either I have to do this or you do!" Lazierte is screaming... "And I know you can''t, Serena. So I have to be able to! You wanted this monarchy dead, we need this monarchy dead, this is inevitable! There''s no other way... I''m sorry!"

    "Lazierte..." I close my eyes, shamble forward, and wrap my arms around the poor girl. "... I don''t want this. I don''t want you to do this. I know you don''t want this too... But if you think it must be done... Then give me the sword."

    "I... What?!" Lazierte''s hesitancy has turned to horror, her entire body convulsing against mine. "Serena, you can''t! I won''t let you be burdened with this!"

    "Then you can see where I''m coming from, can''t you? I love you like you love me, Lazierte. I could not bear to see you harmed like this." A lie on my part, admittedly. I know now I love her in a way she can¡¯t love me, far more than I imagine she''d allow.

    There is a loud clatter... Lazierte has dropped her sword, and thrown her arms around me, squeezing tightly. "Serena! Serena, I... I''m sorry!"

    "Shhhh, it''s okay. We''ll figure this out, no one else has to die. We''ll end the war, in a way we choose."

    Lazierte simply weeps, it honestly seems like it¡¯s been a long time coming for her. She simply isn''t a steel kind of grown-up in my arms, she¡¯s vulnerable... And I adore that about her. It¡¯s yet another thing I adore about her. And it¡¯s something I¡¯ve tried so hard to hide from all this time.

    Will Her Majesty try to turn her into a monster too?

    Our little hugging is interrupted by intruders in the palace, militia members with blue armbands with a familiar face among them. The woman, the one who spoke Avernian! She appears to be lugging a musket like the rest of them, despite having apparently been noble enough to be part of the late King''s entourage. There¡¯s certainly something noble about it... Seeing the former King dead, his palace torn asunder, and bones and feathers where a monster once stood, the Samnian militia cheer wildly, utterly jubilant with the death of their monarch.

    And that familiar woman runs up to meet me again, throwing her musket aside to intrude on Lazierte and I''s embrace, wrapping her arms around me. "Serena! You... You really did it! I mean, I knew you could but... I didn''t know anyone actually could!"

    Lazierte finds a gap in her weeping to glare at the newcomer for her sudden intrusion, her eyes giving me the distinct impression that she is trying to summon her sword back to her hand using pure hatred. "... And who exactly is this woman, Serena?"

    Before I can admit I have never been properly introduced to the gentlewoman in question she takes the opportunity to properly introduce herself. "Ah! Forgive me for not offering you my name and personage, signora! I am Lucretia Honorius Romulus, Duchess of The Latin Plains. At your eternal service, our savior!"

    ... She certainly knows how to lay it on thick, and also knows how to make Lazierte even more murderously angry... I can''t help but wonder about her incredibly odd name.

    And I am always a little too curious for my own good. "Romulus? Forgive me, your Excellency, but-"

    "Please! Just Lucretia. You saved the city of Ravenna, I am not going to force decorum upon you- Ah! But you had a question about my name!" ... This girl, this Lucretia, can certainly talk fast. "Yes, it''s an old, traditional name in my duchy. There was once a fierce and bloodthirsty tribe of settlers there who called themselves The Romans. They traced their origin to a man named Romulus. That tribe tried to steal the women of the Sabines, but were driven mad by a Sabine witch and made to tear one another apart. What few of them survived later submitted to Samnian authority, and eventually their culture became a small part of The Latin Plains. If I remember right I actually trace my lineage back to those original Romans, or so I''ve heard, but-"

    "Alright, that''s enough of a history lesson!" Lazierte''s tears have all dried up, and now there is nothing there but outrage. "You''re going to bore my Serena to death at this rate!"

    "... Well I think it''s quite fascinating." Lucretia tries to pull me away from Lazierte, trying to keep me for herself. "Who even are you, anyway? Why are you hugging this general?"

    "Who am I? I''m only her best friend from the Military Academy in Alesia!" Lazierte starts pulling me away from Lucretia in turn, I am being pulled back and forth now. "And I happen to know she doesn''t much care for dull history lessons! She also loves cats and seafood and- And you don''t know anything about her!"

    "Maybe not, but I want to learn!" Lucretia pulls me toward her again, I have to wonder what the Queen and her daughter must think of this sight, let alone Lazierte''s troops and Katarina''s mercenaries. "You already know everything apparently so surely you can let me borrow her for a while, can''t you? Let her celebrate her victory with someone worthy of her?"

    This seems to strike a chord with Lazierte... One that really pisses her off, and makes her pull harder. "And that''s you, is it?!"

    "Well it''s certainly not you, you pile of bones!"

    "Samnian whore!"

    "Vulgar interloper!"

    ... Why are my friends always the vulgar ones? This back and forth threatens to go on for a while, and it¡¯s not doing miraculous things for my disorientation or my headache. I feel almost sick by the time Katarina wanders up and pulls me toward her, definitively winning the tug-of-war match and sending both Lazierte and Lucretia to the floor for her troubles. Both of them still grumble on the ground, but at least I¡¯m not being pulled around anymore.

    Katarina lays my feet gently on the ground, and gives me a brief little kiss for good measure, much to the utter horror of both Lazierte and Lucretia. "Performance bonus. Did well."

    I nod, and reach up to pat her head. "Did very well, Katarina."

    She smiles and goes to attend to her troops... And the processing of the King and his son. I decide this is a wonderful moment to rush over to the Queen and her daughter and lead them both out of the room before the butchery begins. I only hope Lazierte and Lucretia make their own way out.

    Lazierte has never actually witnessed the creation of a meat commissary if memory serves, and I am certain Lucretia hasn''t.

    I manage to find a nice, stately side room away from all the carving, one where I can address the question that Lazierte made apparent. What is to be done with the new King of Samnia? She looks no older than five. "Mademoiselle... Can you understand me?"

    She¡¯s clearly confused, eyeing me suspiciously... Mercifully her mother chimes in, albeit with a very weak voice. "I speak a little Avernian. I can try to translate... Thank you, for saving me and my daughter."

    She doesn''t sound even remotely grateful, in honesty she sounded despondent beyond all measure, but she at least doesn''t seem angry at me. She¡¯s merely sad. She¡¯s sad in a way I have never seen a human being be sad before... Only, I might have... Guilt. She carries the same guilty eyes the Queen had shown towards me. The ones I simply couldn''t bear to see.

    I focus my attention on the daughter, I will not allow Her Majesty to interfere with this. "Little one... You are technically the King of Samnia now. You''re in charge of the Kingdom of Samnia."

    She still looks confused, even after having it explained to her, questioning it in an incredibly small voice that her mother dutifully translated for me. "She says she is only little, that it is silly that she would be put in charge of a Kingdom."

    I nod, she¡¯s absolutely right. "It is silly... Kingdoms are very silly things. And sometimes they do very silly things, like make a little girl the King simply because her daddy was before her, or they hurt people who don''t want to be part of the Kingdom anymore."

    She takes this on board, and the Queen shakes as she translates the little girl''s question. "She wants to know what became of her father, of her brothers. Victor promised to teach her how to ride a horse tomorrow."

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    I audibly swallow. I already have no idea what I¡¯m doing speaking to a child, how am I supposed to answer this?! ... If Xena were handling this she would be honest, and she¡¯s the smartest woman I know. "They''re all dead, little one. Your daddy killed your brothers, because he wanted to get the gods to hurt people who didn''t want to be part of his Kingdom anymore. The Kingdom ended up hurting your brothers, and that is why we had to kill your father."

    The Queen looks at me with mute horror, before slowly and carefully translating. No amount of care could stop that news from making the little girl cry. I reach out a hand to try to comfort her, only for the Queen to slap it away, trying to soothe her daughter herself. Perhaps to be expected, only that little girl reaches out to take my hand in her small ones, giving it a squeeze and sobbing out some words.

    Words which The Queen chokes on as she translates. "She wants to know how she can bring them back. Her daddy always said that Kings can do anything."

    I shake my head, and the girl starts sobbing again... This is rough. "They''ve gone to a better place, a place you''ll go yourself one day, if you live a good and long life. You''ll see them again, a long way from now."

    "... She wants to know why she can''t go now.¡±

    I¡¯m struck with horror, eyes darting around to find a way to show this five-year-old why she should live. "... Because you''ll make your mother very sad. You''d be leaving her all alone down here. And she needs you to keep her safe, to protect her."

    Mercifully this works, and the child is able to get a hold of her crying and regain some of her composure.

    She even manages to stop terrifying her mother. "She understands, thank the Gods... She wants to know how to keep her mother- Keep me safe."

    This I know how to do, even if it feels a little sneaky. "... Stop being the King. Keeping this Kingdom going was the thing that put you and your mother in danger. It''s why we had to save all the other mothers and fathers of Ravenna, because the Kingdom was making them sad. If you renounce the throne- If you tell everyone you''re not the King anymore, that there are no kings or queens anymore, then no one will have any reason to hurt you. Does that make sense, little one?"

    The child''s mother glares at me, utterly offended by my suggestion... But she translates, and the little girl gives a nod and speaks. "She says she doesn''t want to hurt anyone, or for anyone to have to hurt her. If Kings and Queens hurt people, she doesn''t want there to be Kings or Queens anymore."

    "Very good!" I give the girl a smile, and despite the best attempts of her mother I reach out and muss up her hair. "I''ll make sure all the people with the blue armbands know your decision, and I''ll tell them to make sure to keep you and your mother safe."

    The little girl sniffles, but nods. Even before her mother translates my words she seems to know she¡¯ll be safe now... But her mother clearly doesn''t, staring at me while trying to comfort her daughter, who has lost her momentary clarity and started crying again. There¡¯s obvious hate in her eyes, mixed with a pleading desperation. She whispers, clearly worried that her daughter will pick up on her despondent tone.

    "How can you protect my daughter? Maybe you saved her from your little friend, but you''re foreigners, and violent ones at that. I couldn''t protect my sons and I was their very own mother! What chance do you have?"

    It¡¯s a fair question. The Avernian Army will be moving out as soon as we wrap up the last few loose ends in Ravenna and Antoine produces his friendly state. Possibly on to Illyria, or some mad dash north to try and strike at the heartland of the Magyar Empire. It¡¯d be absurd to believe I can protect these two forever.

    But I know someone who can, and maybe even will if I asked nicely enough. "Trust in me, Your Grace. I''ll see to it that you will be protected even after we in the Avernian Army are gone."

    "Your Grace... Hehe, I am the queen of nothing now, you and my daughter will see to that. All I am now is a mother, with only one remaining child."

    The venom seems to leave her, and all that¡¯s left is malaise. She can''t cry, she¡¯s trying to be strong for her daughter''s sake, but I can tell she¡¯ll be a blubbering mess the moment she¡¯s alone. There¡¯s little that this ''violent foreigner'' can do to ease her suffering or take away her loss, so I simply leave the two be. I have arrangements to make for the one thing I can control. I have to keep them safe.

    By the time I return to the throne room Antoine has arrived there... And Lucretia hasn''t left, despite the meat of those dead royals still being carted off by the Leather Priests. She must have a strong stomach, and so must Antoine. The two of them are deep in discussion, probably about something important... Best not to interrupt, and wait my turn to make my requests later.

    "Interim president of the Samnian Republic?" Lucretia looks overwhelmed... Admittedly, she is talking about a fairly heavy prospect. "You really think I could take on that role?"

    "Mademoiselle, you managed to assemble a very successful militia force, executed a brilliant plan to take over the government, and made friends and allies amongst the Avernian army, all in a single night! If it wasn''t for a literal agent of a God interfering with your plans you would have single-handedly ended a war and brought the new republic into being right then and there!" Antoine sure knows how to talk someone up... His theatrics are honestly quite sweet sometimes. "I was concerned that I would not be able to find anyone who I could trust with the new Republic, and now you have proven yourself the perfect candidate! I''m certain the people of Samnia will agree, as soon as elections are able to be held."

    "... I''m flattered, but I could only do those things because of Serena." She awkwardly shuffles her feet, apparently her noble and gallant persona is susceptible to humility. "If I hadn''t seen her, if I hadn''t... Felt, something about her, I doubt I could have done any of this."

    Antoine chuckles, I suppose it must be amusing for him to meet yet another woman who has quickly become fascinated by me. "Serena is good at that. Motivating people to be their very best selves. But mademoiselle, even if Serena had inspired you to act, she could not simply give you competence, she could not inspire more from you than you had to give. This was something you were always capable of! Serena merely gave you an excuse to be the best version of yourself."

    "... I suppose there is some truth to that. But I am unsure if I will continue to be my best self without her near me. This already was a monumental undertaking, I worry I would require a great deal of ''inspiration'' to be the president of a revolutionary new form of government. Elected or not, I''ll be spending years putting out fires and... Maybe if you could convince her to marry me-"

    "Alright, let''s hold our horses, mademoiselle Romulus." This only amuses Antoine further, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. "Haaaah, that girl is already tied to the hip to the love of my life... And sometimes it seems like she might be knotted up with at least five other girls, including a seven-foot-tall beauty who wears a bear everywhere. I don''t think she could be convinced to give up her military career and settle down in Samnia at the age of nineteen, she''s simply too wild a spirit."

    "Well, then I don''t know if I can do this, Antoine! Besides, you won most of this campaign, why don''t you become the president of Samnia?!"

    "The Aeduian Restorationists would see that as a dangerous power grab. I need someone I can trust to take control, someone competent and driven, so I can continue to best serve the interests of Avernia without provoking any dull politics about it. I must confess, the politicians back home are sometimes their own worst enemies, this arrangement simply makes sure they don¡¯t bring themselves any harm by forming unfounded suspicions of me." ... My brother is a lot more savvy about the political angle than he lets on, I can absolutely see The Convention clipping his wings out of fear.

    "I am certainly competent, we''ve proven that. But driven-"

    "Look! ... Maybe I can''t convince Serena to marry you, but perhaps I can work out some kind of arrangement. How about she visits every..." Antoine was counting months on his fingers, he never was good with time. "Dummanios. Become president of Samnia and I''ll make sure she spends the month of Dummanios with you every year. Sound like a deal?"

    Lucretia considers this... And then began counting on her fingers as well, humming out loud as she did. "That''s nine whole months away!"

    "Samonios then!"

    "Cantlos or I walk."

    "Fine, Cantlos... But you''re going to have to help me write the new constitution!"

    "Deal! ... What''s a constitution?"

    "Not sure yet, I''m not quite done inventing it."

    "I feel like I may have just fallen for some kind of trap... But Serena is surely worth it."

    "I¡¯m sure she is!"

    Antoine looks relieved to have finally finished this incredibly geopolitically significant negotiation. It takes a moment for it to sink in that he has more or less married me off, just like I was always trying to avoid, even if he only did so by a small fraction. And admittedly to a woman, which is a better lot than I''d have gotten simply as a debutante... I wonder what life would be like, married to the president of Samnia. She¡¯s hardly a bad girl, she¡¯s certainly good at what she does and what she does is good... And she certainly isn''t hard to look at, that short black hair suiting her rather svelte figure well, especially in that very well-fitting tunic and pants... It''s something I might have jumped at full-time if I didn¡¯t have so many other loves that I wanted to keep close to me.

    ... I¡¯ve spent so long staring into space, considering my new one-twelfth wife, that Antoine and Lucretia have already shaken on their new arrangement... And noticed that I¡¯ve been here listening to them the entire time. Lucretia is suddenly horrified, while Antoine knows what shame is for perhaps the first time in his life.

    He¡¯s first to speak, Lucretia is too busy with her head in her hands. "... Sis, how much of that did you hear-"

    "From a little bit before the negotiations began..." Something about seeing Antoine without his usual cheer emboldens me to put him on the other end of some dissonant joviality. "Selling me off to a foreigner for political reasons. Dad would be proud of you, Antoine."

    "Okay listen, I know it sounds bad, but-"

    "She''ll make an excellent president, brother." I take a few steps forward, and free Lucretia''s head from her hands by lifting her chin with two fingers. "I''m certain that whatever a constitution is, you''ll write an amazing one."

    Lucretia¡¯s eyes twinkle with hope, even as every inch of her is flustered beyond what I thought possible. "You... You mean you''ll... You''ll be mine? ... For a month of every year at least?"

    "Hehe, it''s for the peace of Samnia, right? And besides, I think I could stand to be in one place for at least one month a year, so long as someone can tie me to it." Lucretia can¡¯t even meet my gaze¡­ Which will probably make what I have to ask next a little more awkward. "I just have one tiny, teensy thing to ask of you in return."

    "Anything!" Lucretia quickly recoils from me and puts a hand over her mouth, realizing just how loud she¡¯s being. "... Ask anything, and I will move the heavens for you. You already know what I''m capable of."

    "Hehe, I won''t ask you anything that onerous." Oh no, the poor girl is adorable when she isn''t being noble... She¡¯s a lot like Pasche in that regard. "The Queen Consort and her daughter, the only remaining members of the Samnian Royal Family... I have convinced the daughter to publicly renounce all claims to the crown of Samnia. I want you to ensure that both she and her mother are well cared for after this, that they do not face any repercussions for the actions of the former King. The mother and child are not to be harmed. Understood?"

    "That''s all? ... I could do so much for you, Serena."

    "And you will. In seven months, sweetling." I need to be more careful with terms of affection in the future, she looks like she¡¯s going to faint. "But for now, you can do me this favor, and spare us having to... Eradicate a bloodline."

    "Oh... Then, yes! Absolutely, they will be given full immunity from reprisal. And I will personally ensure their safety!"

    And there''s that gallant-ness back. If I kiss her, will she die? ... I want to test this. So I do, gently leaning in and pecking her lips.

    She passes out. She¡¯s very clearly still alive though, her heart is beating like the thunderous hooves of a stampede of horses. I gently pick her up and place her upon the closest thing to a chair in this room, the throne itself. If she¡¯s going to be the president she has the most right to it. My eyes turn back to Antoine, who is looking upon me with a mixture of awe and guilt.

    He tries to formulate some excuse, but I quickly cut him off. "Okay, so you have got to stop offering to sell me! Even as a joke it''s likely to get you punched to death by Pasche, or melted by Xena, or shot by Lazierte, or... Yelled at by Katarina until all your skin falls off, or something terrible!"

    "... Okay, but the new republic needs a president! Surely your friends will recognize the necessity of that!"

    "Oh, I''m certain they''ll be very understanding as they kill you. They''ll entirely understand the motivations behind your actions, I''m certain..." I pinch the bridge of my nose, I¡¯m probably being overly harsh. "... I''m sure they''ll adjust to only having me eleven months of the year, just don''t do it again. My life is complicated enough as it is."

    "... I promise." Antoine gets on one knee and looks up at me. "I promise I will stop marrying you off to people, even in fractional amounts."

    "You better, for your sake." I reach down a hand and stroke Lucretia''s hair, the poor girl is still out cold. "You did pick me someone quite gorgeous this time though. She talks a lot, but that''s okay. Most of my friends do."

    "Hehe... For what it''s worth, I think your magic might be less magical than your ability to make ''Friends'' everywhere you go. You could probably rule the world with that power of yours."

    "And have an entire world of beautiful women constantly disappointed in me... Whatever world I rule would not be a happy one, brother. And I think I''d like to sort out my little patch of it first."

    "You''re only young, there''s still time for world conquest, sis."

    "Hehe, I appreciate the vote of confidence, brother... But for now, I think I have to see to my little patch."

 Chapter Fifty Six

    It¡¯s been a few nights since the liberation of Ravenna and the end of the Kingdom of Samnia... And the breakfasts following that historic event have been remarkably awkward. Lucretia has insisted on keeping me close for as long as she can during this little bit of time that the army will still be in Ravenna. Pasche has insisted on keeping me close too, despite the fact she¡¯s supposed to be recovering from her hand wound. Lazierte has insisted on keeping her distance from me, seemingly unable to look me in the eye ever since I talked her down from murdering a child... And Xena has insisted on kissing me openly and wantonly whenever our paths cross, much to Pasche and Lucretia''s confusion and dismay.

    And my delight, naturally, but it¡¯s hard to properly express that in the presence of two disappointed women.

    Still, we all assemble for breakfast, as is normal... And everyone seems on edge about everyone else''s presence. Theophania has focused her entire attention on writing up a suitably epic retelling of the liberation, even bringing her quill and ink to the breakfast table and only shooting me the occasional longing, guilty glance. Lazierte hides behind her, and her eyes are mostly focused on glaring at Lucretia. Lucretia and Pasche take opposing sides of me and look ready to competitively style my hair as Pasche and Celeste once did. And Xena is sitting next to Katarina, who remains gloomy about the lack of furniture designed to withstand her power. Maybe if I ever stop being a general I''ll take up carpentry and make something that can withstand her strength... Or possibly stoneworking, wood might not be strong enough a material.

    "Mail''s here!"

    A cheery-looking messenger mercifully interrupts our awkward breakfast, and starts handing out letters. One for Xena, four for Katarina, none for Lazierte or Lucretia, one for Pasche, one for Theophania... And two for me. Which is odd, my parents usually only sent me letters on my birthday. I open the first of them, and find Celeste''s name lovingly written upon it... It smells nice...

    "Dearest Serena.

    I hope you are well! We have been receiving reports of your adventures as written by a ''Melissa Mentir'', which seems remarkably odd for a farm girl to be writing them for you, doubly so for their quality and attention to detail! Even so we have read every one of them with fondness for you, and have ensured they are passed onto relevant newspapers and published. You''re becoming quite the celebrity back home in Alesia, almost as much as your brother! Auguste has sung your praises at his speeches quite often, and it appears to be an applause line, so you needn''t worry about your standing among the people if you were to return home.

    We miss you terribly. Our dinner table is simply too quiet without your presence, it feels too empty. We hope that The Kingdom of Samnia collapses soon, and that this entire stupid war can end so you might return to visit us. As lovely as the dispatches are, we want to hear your stories from your own lips. I simply hope they have been less life-threatening than your adventures in Alesia had been!

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.Take care, Serena. You always have a home with us.

    Love, Celeste and Auguste."

    Those sweet, sweet people... I wonder if they¡¯d like the beaches of Kerska, perhaps they can visit one day. It might be awkward to introduce them to my parents but... Something about the idea of taking them to visit my home appeals to me. Feeling truly at home, in every sense of the word... I fold up the letter and put it in my jacket pocket, I wish to keep it close to me, just as I wish to keep them close to me.

    Pasche is similarly quite affected by her letter, but it has provoked more of a confused emotion. She certainly has no desire to hold onto it after reading it, simply letting it fall to the table after.

    "Pasche... Is everything okay?" I reach out and touch her shoulder, looking over her with concern.

    "Ah! ... Yeah, I... I think so." Pasche turns to look at me with a nervous smile. "... My dad finally got sacrificed. And survived. He''s wondering when I''ll slip free of the army, marry Marie, and take up a position in the Cimmerian Nobility¡­ And now I''m wondering when I''ll slip free from the army and-"

    I pout and flick her on the forehead, not wanting Pasche to even consider leaving. "Don''t wonder that. I won''t let you."

    Pasche smiles, and gently lays a hand on my lap, giving it a pat. "Hehe, of course! I''m your knight, after all."

    "Exactly!" I put my hand upon hers, gently stroking it.

    There¡¯s a bizarre groaning sound at the end of the table, one that sounds bored in a violent way... Seems Katarina has read her letters fairly quickly, and is unimpressed by their contents. I look at Xena, hoping she might translate, but she¡¯s still reading hers, bearing a frown... It seems no one here got especially good news except me. I open my other letter, hoping it won¡¯t be nearly as disappointing as everyone else''s.

    ... It¡¯s sealed with a lion. A royal seal? I open the letter, and find it too has a familiar scent, a... Sinful scent. Already my heart is pounding in my ears, and I, like an idiot, choose to read the scrawled and scratchy words.

    "My dearest, my darling, my Serena.

    I am sorry I pushed you away. I should not have pushed you away. I wanted to save you from me, wanted to spare you from me, but I have figured it out now. I know what we must do. I know how we can be together, and we shall make it happen. Forgive me. Return to me. I shall deliver you the entire world, every single thing in it. Including me. All of me. Forever.

    I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

    Eternally yours, as you are eternally mine.

    Katje."

    ...

 Chapter Fifty Six: Part Two

    I wake up on the floor. A pillow has been put under my very sore head. Everyone is kneeling around and fussing over me. When did I end up on the floor? I don''t remember moving to the floor. All I remember is reading my mail and-

    "Forgive me. Return to me."

    ... I don''t say those words, but they come out of my mouth... My head hurts, everyone is staring at me, Xena reaches out and moves her finger above my eyes. My gaze follows it, I''m not sure why exactly, it isn''t even a conscious process. My head really does hurt, what is that about? Xena finally moves her finger away and I am free to look around the room under my own power again. A crying Theophania is being held back by a terrified looking Pasche, while Lucretia is running out of the room. Lazierte is reading a letter... I thought she didn''t receive any mail... I should have written to her when I was in Germany. No matter how hard it was to find the words, she deserved to know that someone was thinking of her.

    "Serena, where are you right now?" Xena speaks with utter professionalism, I guess I¡¯m a patient right now.

    "The former Royal Palace of Ravenna. It''s being fixed up and turned into a parliament building." I reach up a hand to rub my head... I seem to have a small lump. "Xena... What happened?"

    "You fell off your chair and passed out. Or perhaps you passed out and then fell off your chair. You were reading one of your letters at the time-"

    "I know what we must do..." Where are these words coming from, why are they coming out of my mouth?

    "Serena... Might I read that letter? I worry it may have affected you."

    I reach around me, and find a letter in my jacket pocket, but I quickly remember what that is. I can''t seem to find my second letter for Xena to read. Shaking my head hurts a little bit, I¡¯m rather concerned where my mail had disappeared to.

    "I can''t find it... I''m sorry."

    "Can you remember what it said?"

    "Not a word. I don''t even remember who it was from."

    "... You worry me sometimes, Serena..." Xena very carefully strokes my head, making sure to be mindful of my little bump. "Anyway, I don''t think there''s any brain damage, I think that memory loss might be a psychosomatic reaction. Some bedrest will sort out that bump. You''ll be okay."

    I sigh with relief, as does Theophania and Pasche. Xena''s diagnoses are utterly trustworthy and they allay some clear and present fears. I worry the people I love a lot, don''t I? I want to make it up to them, somehow... Lucretia returns in a hurry, with a pair of Cotton Priestesses behind her. And looks just a little useless in the face of Xena having taken on her usual role of doctor. But Lucretia did try her best... All this for little old me, I wish I could be this useful to my loved ones.

    At least I can give them all a smile, and try to lean upwards to face them. It hurts, and I feel a little dizzy, but I manage it. I can tell Xena is seriously considering flicking my head and forcing me back down again, but she resists the urge given my current wound...

    I look around to everyone, and try to be cheery. "Sorry, I think I may have ruined breakfast."

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.Xena flicks my forehead. Pasche only barely stops Theophania from trying to do the same, or possibly from trying kissing me. They make an interesting pair, especially knowing that Pasche is likely just as tempted as Theophania is... Lazierte wanders back over, looking... Just a little distant. She reaches out and offers me a hand up. Her face bears one of the most bizarre smiles I have ever seen.

    "You haven''t ruined anything, Serena... You don''t ruin anything..."

    I gingerly reach up and allow her to pull me to my feet, much to the shock of everyone around me. I even manage to stay upright, struggling for a moment but quickly getting my bearings... Lazierte doesn''t look too good, she honestly looks a ill despite her smile. I try to rub my thumb over her hand, but she withdraws it before I can do so, still smiling... Whatever this bizarre behavior is caused by, it¡¯ll need something dramatic to fix it.

    "L- Lazierte?"

    "Yes, Serena?" She¡¯s being polite... I want so badly for her to call me names and poke fun at me right now.

    "... I promised to share a bed with you like the old times. Do you want me to make good on that tonight?"

    Lazierte twitches, something in her is begging to break... But gets a handle on it and nods, in her new and dissonant way. "If you wish, Serena."

    Not a reaction I want... And not a thing that anyone else here wants me to offer, Theophania looks ready to cry again while Pasche looks horribly conflicted. Lucretia almost passes out and has to be propped up by the Priestesses of Cotton she¡¯d brought...

    Katarina bursts into the room, with a pillow in one hand, and a second messenger in the other.

    "Magyars. Moving. Here soon." Katarina tosses the pillow to me as gently as possible, and then drops the messenger like a sack of potatoes, or perhaps a sack of severed human heads.

    The messenger quickly adjusts his uniform, gets his bearings back after being carried, and gives his report. "Scouts have confirmed a large force of Magyar troops marching here from the Carpathian Basin... It appears to be the Magyar First Army."

    I blink, the messenger seems to think I¡¯d have a reaction to that. "... Am I supposed to know what that means? Surely we''ll just rout them like any other horde of conscripts, won''t we?"

    "... That''s just it, General Pollineux. The Magyar First Army is the cream of the crop of Magyar troops. They don''t have any conscripts. It''s an army of purely native Carpathians, all troopers. And their very finest too. 50,000 of the best soldiers the Empire has at its disposal are coming to sweep us out of Samnia."

    I was really hoping that name didn''t mean that. "... I need to speak to my brother. We must assemble the troops immediately to face this."

    Theophania of all people shouts at me after that, head poking out from over Pasche''s shoulder. "Xena said you need rest! The Magyars can wait!"

    I ignore her. And I immediately feel terrible, but I still have to keep everyone alive, and that means being a general right now. I turn my attention to Lucretia, knowing she¡¯ll do miracles for me if I ask.

    "Dear, how many Samnian troops do you think you could assemble on short notice? We might need every man..."

    She isn''t quite used to hearing terms of endearment yet, and she¡¯s almost overwhelmed by a smile before she remembers I made a request. "Ah! Well, I''ve sent messengers to the remaining garrisons in the Tuscan midlands to let them know about the Kingdom''s capitulation, but I don''t think most of those troops would make their way here in time to be useful. Were I to mobilize the militia again, pardon the soldiers who we arrested instead of sacrificing them, and start a recruitment campaign then... Maybe three thousand additional troops?"

    "Light infantry, irregulars... Maybe they''d be better as a garrison for Ravenna, in case the worst happens and... And they beat us, and come for you-"

    "I won''t let that happen!" Lucretia really is trying to give Pasche a run for her money on the ¡®noble knight¡¯ thing. "I''ll assemble anyone I can, I will support you as best as I am able! ... I promise, Serena."

    I can almost hear Theophania and Pasche grinding their teeth at my one-twelfth-wife being so wonderful. I really wish I could be good to someone without upsetting everyone else I know. Maybe I need to set-up a schedule, give everyone a month... But I want to be with everyone all of the time! I don''t want to leave anyone behind ever. I''d even be tempted to take Lucretia with me if she wasn''t the first president of a country in the history of the world.

    ... I can''t be thinking about this now, I have to see my brother. We have to formulate a plan. And we need to destroy the finest troops the Magyars can send at us. We need to humiliate an Empire.

    We need to protect this new world we¡¯ve built.

 Chapter Fifty Seven

    We¡¯ve scrambled every soldier we can find into a formation that might conceivably be able to face the Magyar First Army, about thirty thousand in all... This includes the ¡®soldiers¡¯ of the SVAC, the Samnian Volunteer Army Corps, about three thousand militia who are still wearing their blue armbands and their civilian clothes. My brother takes them and about half our troops for ''flanking maneuvers''

    I¡¯m a little worried about this plan, engaging the First Army with my meager forces, withdrawing to draw the Magyars further into Samnia and distract from Antoine cutting off their supplies and then attacking them from behind. It''s a strategy I have used before, but only on a small scale, and without giving up swathes of countryside to an invading force. This is a far more ambitious gambit, and one that carries a lot more risk.

    ... But at least I have some experience fleeing a battle, right?

    I wonder if that¡¯s why my brother put me in charge of this operation, faith in my ability to make an orderly retreat. Either way it stings, but whatever reason I was given this role I am a Pollineux, this is my job. To excel on a battlefield, even if only as bait.

    Antoine¡¯s taken most of the cavalry, but it turns out Pasche made some friends during her brief foray against the Magyars while we were attacking Medhelanon. A fair few of them chose to follow her, and since she can''t be convinced to follow my brother rather than me, I have myself some cavalry to work with. Not precisely necessary for a feigned retreat but it¡¯s nice seeing Pasche making friends... Even if she apparently made one of them by taking a bullet for him. Pasche taking wounds in my service is already infuriating, doing it for others somehow stung even worse.

    Lazierte has been denied her request to follow my brother instead of me, Antoine insisting that my ''eleven-twelfths-wife'' stay by my side. She instead takes the vanguard position with her 505th, seemingly trying to avoid me entirely... What¡¯s worse is that whenever I speak to her, she smiles, she¡¯s kind... She¡¯s profoundly un-Lazierte, and that hurts in a way I can''t name. My best attempt to describe it would be "Really terrible bad and I hate it!", which there is surely a better word for. I consider trying to dive into her heart, maybe some bravery might make her speak the words she needs to say... But I fear what she might say. Does she know?

    That I had harmed Her Majesty, that I had been rejected by her? ... That I''d been hurt by Her Majesty? Does Lazierte wish to hurt me too, as Her Majesty had done?

    I try to keep these thoughts out of my head... At least Xena is acting relatively normal, sticking by my side along with the cannons. And where Xena goes, Katarina goes, the two of them rather happy in my presence. It¡¯s nice... But it¡¯s a nice I am struggling to grapple with at the moment. No one else is so happy in so uncomplicated a fashion in my presence, someone genuinely being pleased to be with me was a distressingly foreign concept. Not one I have fully acclimatized to.

    Theophania has come along as well, despite the danger. I offered to allow her to stay with Lucretia in Ravenna, where perhaps her writing skills could help with creating whatever a constitution is. Apparently it¡¯s ¡®not that kind of writing'', and she doesn''t want to miss a single detail of my amazing victory over the Magyars... She¡¯s cute. I¡¯m not certain she¡¯s aware of our plans, she might just be disappointed to learn that we came here specifically to run away. But I can¡¯t tell her no after that enthusiasm... I owe her something. And besides, she''s even learned to ride a horse on her own, rather than traveling in the carriage all the time. She¡¯s slowly acclimatizing to military life, she¡¯s even tied her hair back to keep it out of her face. Her hair does look remarkable in that little bun too.

    She looks like Theophania. Not Princess Theophania, not Her Highness... And not like Her Majesty. She simply looks like Theophania. And my eyes could get lost staring at a woman who looks like Theophania.

    But not today. Our army is meeting the Magyars in a small valley, I want to ensure they can''t easily flank us as we''ll have cliff walls to each side. We can hold them off convincingly with a small force, then make an orderly retreat in exactly one direction. It seems a perfect place to run away from.

    In the distance I see a flag raised by one of the 505th''s scouts. They¡¯ve spotted the Wolf''s head banners in the distance. The order is given to the musicians for the troops to enter formation and prepare to receive the Magyars. Cannons are set up, lines are formed, Pasche and her cavalry... Linger behind the infantry... This location gives her and her cavalry very little room to maneuver unfortunately, and I will not allow her to charge bayonets from the front. I will tie her to her horse and ride it back to Alesia before I allow that to happen.

    The Magyars are marching on us now... Their columns are a flurry of activity as they catch sight of us, preparing to face us. I give Xena a nod, figuring The Magyars are owed a little bit of confusion while they set up. We¡¯ll see how the discipline of the famed First Army stands up to solid shot. Xena nods back, and the cannons sing. Heavy iron balls skip across the valley and tear Magyars apart. But they don''t cease forming into lines. There isn''t any hesitation, they maintain good order throughout. It¡¯s too much to hope that they''d simply give up and go home after only a few dozen mutilations.

    I signal for another two regiments to join Lazierte''s at the front, I am not going to allow her to stand alone out there. We aren''t going to be able to leave until we''ve suffered at least a few casualties, to really sell this as an attempt to stop them. So it looks to them like a victory and not a trap. Best to spread those out, even if Lazierte hates me now I am going to bring her safely to Her Majesty one day like she wants. The Magyars engage, the harsh symphony of muskets has begun. Now it¡¯s just a matter of making sure we can disengage safely and withdraw before-

    "Uhhh, Serena?" Theophania is pulling on my uniform jacket, looking rather concerned. "Were we expecting any reinforcements?"

    "No... This is everyone we have. Antoine''s a lot of things, but he wouldn''t lie to me about our plans."

    "Then, what are those red banners approaching our rear?"

    I blink, and turn to find the Stag''s head banners of Icenia, marching in from our escape route. No one mentioned anything about Icenians! This isn''t part of the plan! I want to scream about how unfair everything is, but it is cut off by an epiphany.

    "It must be that Delphine woman, my rival¡­ She has the worst timing imaginable!"

    And some of the best positioning. Just on sight I could tell she has at least as many troops as I do, possibly even more. And they are approaching fast behind us... We¡¯re trapped. We can''t beat the Icenians before the Magyars overrun our position, we have no hope of carving a path through the Magyars, and no one short of Katarina is going to be climbing the cliff faces. Our trap has fallen into an even stupider trap! Damn it!

    The troops at the front withdraw from their positions, only to find that they are withdrawing towards an Icenian Army. The rest of the army turns to follow, only to discover that we are trapped. I don''t need to be in everyone else''s hearts to know the utter hopelessness that has enveloped them. It has consumed us, with no way to fight out of its stomach.

    I might have collapsed to the ground in sheer despair if I didn''t feel Lazierte put a hand on my shoulder. "Serena!"

    I¡¯m crying before I¡¯ve even turned around, I can barely even see her through the tears. "Oh dear gods, Lazierte. I''ve killed you!"

    She slaps me across the face, before grabbing my shoulders and violently shaking me. "Shut up, and don''t cry. Your eyes are sharp, don''t waste them by crying about things."

    I snap out of it quickly, partly at the shock of the slap but mostly because she¡¯s Lazierte again. "... My apologies, I was-"

    "And don''t apologize!" She looks about ready to slap me again, before sighing bitterly. "Look... The Icenians are by far the inferior force here. Their only advantage is the Magyar army behind us. Take them out of the equation, and you have a fair battle. One I think you can win."

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "I... I mean, theoretically I can win but how would we take the Magyar Army out of the equation? They''re right there, Lazierte!"

    "Look, we''re in a narrow valley. It wouldn''t take that big a force in the rear to hold the Magyars at bay... One regiment ought to be enough."

    Lazierte is making perfect sense, enough sense that I almost don''t realize the stupid thing she¡¯s planning to do. "Lazierte, no-"

    "What choice do we have?! It''s this or we both die, and then Antoine dies too, and then the Republic we worked so hard for falls, and the Magyars invade Avernia and then Her Majesty dies too! Do you really want that?!"

    Something caustic hits my veins as she mentions Her Majesty, if anyone should die for Her Majesty it should be the one who has no hope of living with her, surely! "It... It doesn''t have to be you-"

    "No other regiment would hold long enough! My 505th will give you the best opportunity you have, no one else is determined like us! No one can do this but me. And no one can kick those frigid fucks all the way back to their island but you. Serena, it has to be this way-"

    "I can¡¯t let it be this way, Lazierte!"

    "... You have a life much grander than me waiting for you after this battle, Serena. I''ll make sure you get to it."

    My tongue gets stuck in my throat. Her Majesty said something similar, didn''t she? Before she pushed me away, before she rejected me. Is this finally it? Is this Lazierte''s final rejection of me? Would she really rather die than-

    She leans in and kisses my cheek again... And a tear forms in one of her eyes. "I am about to die for you, how am I still such a coward?"

    I try to ask her what that meant, but my voice is drowned out by solid shot landing all around us... The Magyars have set up their cannons, it¡¯s now or never on sending someone to hold them off. And Lazierte acts now, not waiting around to give answers. I reach out a hand to stop her, but she¡¯s gone before I can even move again¡­

    I¡¯m a coward too. I want to kiss her properly.

    ... And I will. I just have to whip these Icenians, and do it quickly enough that we can rescue Lazierte and get some answers out of her. First things first I need command of my army again, and that means getting them past their despair. And I am just angry enough to force them. I throw my power over the entire army, catching them all, making all their hearts beat as one single, murderous organism. The Icenians have just made me a monster once again.

    The second thing I need is a plan, and one certainly does occur to me. One that will put me face to face with my rival and should, if all goes well, end this fight quickly and without much bloodshed. A monstrous plan, one that I would not consider under any other circumstance. I turn to Xena, this is going to take some complicated movements.

    My voice is strained already, the army is large and my heart is small. "Xena, we need to concentrate our fire on the enemy center. Carve us a path that we can exploit with our cavalry, fire as fast as you are able... And do not hit the opposing general, under any circumstances."

    Xena sees me wince at the pain, and it fills her with skepticism. "... Serena, what exactly are you planning-"

    There¡¯s no time to explain, and I¡¯m not going to lie to Xena. "Something monstrous."

    Xena looks displeased, but she shrugs off her concern. "I am going to trust your intentions and do as you ask. Serena."

    She¡¯s under my power as well, this is hardly a fair contrition on her part. I will apologize to her later. I will apologize to Lazierte later too. I will apologize to myself later after that.

    The little stabbing pains in my heartstrings get harsher. It¡¯s time to get moving. I relay my orders to the musicians, and the army gets moving again. I have an adjutant raise the flag for Pasche and her cavalry friends to join the center of the line. She¡¯s going to be important to this plan.

    Our soldiers engage the enemy on the flanks in column formation, smashing right into them and tying them in close combat, keeping them from acting against our cavalry in the center. The Icenians who assemble to face Pasche''s horses have their formation shattered by the totality of our artillery, and the now disorganized soldiers are hacked to pieces by our cavalry... And now I have to join them, for my plan to work I have to join them. I try to mount my horse.

    I slip, and scream in pain as I hit the ground, my heart being gripped by a talon. I scramble to my feet, trying to mount the horse again, gritting my teeth through the pain... And realize a hand is offering to help me up. I look down, and find Theophania having mounting my horse, helping me get into the saddle behind her.

    I try to say something to make her stop, but she simply turns her head my way and smiles. Oh gods, I¡¯ve caught her in my power too. And now she feels bold enough to charge into a warzone to get my useless self where I need to go. She¡¯s a brave and noble knight in her own right. Entirely because of my stupid power... She¡¯s so unlike the woman I met once, and yet, oddly enough so very like Theophania. And I can''t help but lean forward and hold onto her tightly for the ride. The ride through powder smoke and corpses, dead horses and dying men.

    All the way to Delphine herself.

    Her mounted honor guard is fighting with Pasche''s cavalry, trying to keep her away from the General. We only have a small window of time before reinforcements show up, so I¡¯ll have to do something incredibly stupid. Theophania is still charging forward, but she doesn¡¯t know the plan.

    "Just... Ride me right at her. I need her to stop all this." My voice is weaker than I hoped it would be, but it¡¯s loud enough.

    Theophania rides straight for Delphine, completely ignoring her cavalry escort trying to stop us. One of Delphine¡¯s riders gets close, but I manage to pull out my pistol and shoot him. I aim for the throat, knowing that a handgun isn¡¯t guaranteed to penetrate a cuirass even at this distance. Miraculously I hit him where I aimed, killing the man instantly. It¡¯s a clear run to Delphine from there... At least I think it''s Delphine, my vision was beginning to blur...

    Another horseman... No, a horsewoman is rushing to meet us, saber drawn, giving one last ditch effort to keep Theophania and I from Delphine... But she¡¯s intercepted by Pasche, distracting the rider who must have been Mademoiselle Siobhan, giving me a moment to act.

    Just long enough for me to jump.

    I fling my useless body off the horse and directly at Anastasia, tackling her off her horse to the ground, grappling with her in the dirt. She is entirely unresisting. What little I can see of her with my blurred vision looks... Amused. Ecstatic almost. She¡¯s smiling, even as I draw my sword and hold it to her throat.

    "Icenians! Lay down your weapons or your commander dies!" ... I don''t yell the words, I roar them.

    One of the Icenian riders tries to charge at me, sword drawn, unaware or uncaring of the danger posed to Anastasia by his actions. He is quickly shot and killed by Mademoiselle Siobhan, who stares down at me with utter disgust.

    "You would dare take my mistress hostage? What foul depths you Avernians are willing to sink to! We should eradicate your filth from the very surface of the world and-"

    "Siobhan, let them go. They won fair and square." This is the first time I''ve heard Anastasia''s voice, the first time I¡¯d experienced its captivating, sing-song nature... It¡¯s beautiful, in a way that makes me feel powerless even with a sword to her throat. "I know you could not abide me being harmed, so I won''t even try to convince you to let her kill me."

    Siobhan looks upon her ¡®mistress¡¯ with utter disbelief, before sighing and calling over a musician and relaying them orders in Icenian. Icenian isn''t far off from Avernian as far as languages go, so I have at least some impression of what she is saying. "Call the surrender, let the Avernians leave."

    After a moment of utter confusion, followed by Siobhan pointing one of her other pistols to the musician''s head, they trumpeted a sudden retreat.

    It takes a moment but the Icenians do withdraw, albeit rather erratically, and their forward units are a little slow to disengage from the Avernians. I breathe a sigh of relief, and then let the troops free of my magic. Theophania rides over to my side, ready to dismount, but I reach out a hand and look up at her.

    "Theophania... I need you to... Tell the troops to withdraw. Stop fighting the Icenians and withdraw in good order alongside them. We... We worked something out."

    Theophania stares at me in disbelief, both at the utter absurdity of what I''ve just said, and the fact I am holding a sword to a woman''s throat while we lay together in the dirt. But she nods and rides off, and soon our Avernian troops have their own withdrawal trumpeted. Everything is going as it should... We''ll escape here.

    I withdrew the blade from Anastasia''s throat for a moment... I see past the masses of men now preparing their escape, and notice the place where the 505th had taken their stand. The place where the 505th had stood. The place where the Magyar troops are trampling the bodies of Lazierte''s troops. And Lazierte herself.

    I don''t see much else after that... I don''t think much else after that, I don''t move much after that.

    I¡¯m certain I too have died in this mountain valley.

 Chapter Fifty Eight

    The rest of the retreat was something of a blur, time died when Lazierte did and it made it impossible to keep track of what happened. We escaped, with Anastasia as our remarkably willing prisoner, and with the army almost entirely intact. When the Magyars attempted to prevent our retreat with a charge from their cavalry Mademoiselle Siobhan forced the Icenian army to open fire upon them, sending them away with heavy casualties. I was dragged away on a stretcher by Pasche and Xena, while Anastasia remained at my side the entire time. Theophania was similarly carried away on a stretcher, she apparently isn''t quite accustomed to military life just yet and her charge took a lot out of her. Poor girl.

    And now we have set up camp, trying to give the troops even a moment of respite before we need to get moving again. It¡¯s now our job to play a very dangerous game. We need to remain out of the reach of the Magyars, but also within their sight. Tempt them with the prospect of catching up to us. Honestly, it¡¯s hard to have much motivation to run. To flee in the face of Lazierte''s killers is more than my heart could bear. I haven''t quite felt whole since I saw the place where the 505th used to be. Some part of me is stuck back there, back then, staring at where Lazierte should have stood.

    My little retinue of loved ones is interrogating Mademoiselle Delphine, and while I am present for it... I¡¯m not. Pasche has questions about troop numbers and force disposition, Xena has questions about their coordination with the Magyars, Theophania is asking personal questions, conducting an interview on the villain I heroically captured... I have only one question.

    "Why?"

    Anastasia has been content to answer my friends'' questions, but she struggles with mine. "... Why what, Miss Serena?"

    I don''t have an answer for her, I simply rise to my feet and drag myself out of the room, aimlessly wandering the camp. Eventually I find myself in a tent, with a familiar scent. It¡¯s Lazierte''s tent, with Lazierte''s bed, and Lazierte''s portrait of Her Majesty¡­ And Lazierte''s writing desk. With a letter sitting prominently atop the other documents. The one she had been reading before...

    It¡¯s perhaps disrespectful to the dead to read her mail but, she started acting so oddly after reading this letter. I have to read it.

    "My dearest, my darling, my Serena.I am sorry I pushed you away. I should not have pushed you away. I wanted to save you from me, wanted to spare you from me, but I have figured it out now. I know what I must do. I know how we can be together, and I shall make it happen. Forgive me. Return to me. I shall deliver you the entire world, every single thing in it. Including me. All of me. Forever.

    I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

    Eternally yours, as you are eternally mine.

    Katje."

    ¡­

    I tear the letter in half. Then into quarters. I drop those quarters upon the ground and draw my sword, ready to slash and stab it into further pieces, before my eyes catch a glimpse of the painting of Her Majesty... The thing that kept me from Lazierte''s bed, the thing that had torn us apart. She... Katje dared to love me still? She dared to try to take me back, when Lazierte clearly loved her so? When Lazierte deserved her so much more than me?! She... She did this! Her Majesty did this! It wasn''t my fault, I did not fail to keep Lazierte safe, it was all Her Majesty! I slash at the painting, sharpened steel cutting through frame and canvas alike as easily as cutting through flesh.

    "You did this. You did this! You did this!" I am screaming, I have entirely returned to the world again now. "You killed her! Murderer! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

    My wrist is caught by someone''s hand, and in my rage I turn to strike whoever did so... Only to Mademoiselle Delphine, who offers me a serene smile. I shake, for my prisoner to have seen me in such a state is beyond shameful. Slowly, gently, she lets my wrist go and instead puts her hand on mine, coaxing me into letting go of the sword. I do so, gently lowering it to the ground, which gives me a good view of just how badly I have savaged the image of Her Majesty. It¡¯s just tatters now, fit for nothing but kindling. Mademoiselle Delphine behind me gives an affirmative little hum, one which fills me with an inexplicable warmth, before further coaxing me to Lazierte''s bed, gently dragging a finger along my form on her own way to sit on it.

    I almost follow, but I remember what Xena had said about the sheer ease of brainwashing me, and decide it¡¯s best to stand on my own two feet, no matter how much my body wants to follow. It pains me to disobey.

    Mademoiselle Delphine doesn¡¯t look especially upset or offended by my refusal to comply, she remains just as dissonantly happy as she had been since I tackled her off a horse and into the dirt and mud of a Samnian mountain valley. I wonder if she¡¯s perhaps just a little insane¡­

    Which would put her in good company, especially now that I am completely myself again. "Mademoiselle Delphine, what are you doing here-"

    "Ana, please." Her smile is warm and inviting, it feels just the same as her finger running over me, urging me closer. "You''re with your rival here, it would simply be abominable for us not to be friendly with one another."

    Perhaps more than a little insane, and worse is the fact that she makes perfect sense to me. "... Ana. What are you doing here?"

    "You ran off from my interrogation before I could answer your question, so I went after you." Mademoiselle- Ana, keeps her attention solely on me, studying me closely, and always with a smile. "It seemed unfair of me, so I thought I would come to answer it."

    "I''m not quite sure what I was thinking when I said it." It¡¯s an embarrassing admission, and it¡¯s hard to face such a confident and interested stare. "I don''t think I was thinking at all when I said it, Ana."

    "It was important enough for you to ask without thinking. That means it''s important. So, I guess I''ll simply have to keep answering whatever the question could mean, until you have the answer you need." Still smiling, she pats the bed next to her with absolute gentleness, a gesture that I swear I feel in my legs. "You may want to get comfortable. We might be at this for a while, and I will give you however long of my time it takes."

    The urge to join her has become unbearable, eventually pulling me to sit by her side... I didn¡¯t notice back when I had a sword to Ana¡¯s throat, but her eyes are purple, and looking into them fills my stomach with butterflies. Seeing her long blonde hair makes my fingers twitch as they beg to run through her locks. Her lips make me feel small, incomplete even, and needing her kiss to be whole.

    This woman is absolutely terrifying.

    "I guess the first ''why'' I should answer is why I knew where to ambush you. You needn''t worry about traitors or spies within your ranks, I have no need of them." Her chuckle gives the impression of a warm spring breeze, and leaves me wondering if she always smelled of lavender and strawberries. "I am a witch, as you are likely aware. And my magic subjects me to glimpses of the future. I saw you and your Avernian Army in that valley, and I acted accordingly."

    Being lost in the sensations of listening to her, I almost don''t process that it is possible to see the future. Almost. But as what Ana said finally penetrates my poor attention span I recoil, utterly horrified.

    Ana turns her head, her smile twinged with concern for me. I salivate a little, seeing her smile like that, feeling something sweet fail to exist on my tongue. "Hehe, I must confess, I have yet to get such a reaction from me revealing my power. Most people simply just run with it."

    "I... But how?!" It¡¯s hard to grapple with both this new knowledge and basic decorum at the same time, so I leave decorum behind. "I... I mean. If you can see the future, does that mean it''s pre-ordained? That it can never be changed? Or is it a glimpse of a possible future that will come to be without intervention to prevent it? Or-"

    "Hehehe, I''m going to stop you there, Serena." Ana is amused, and looks genuinely a little flattered by my manic speculation about her magic. "Because I have no idea what my power implies about the future. I don''t even know how my power works, magic hardly comes with an instruction manual after all."

    She¡¯s entirely correct on that, magic is so often confusing and obtuse. Thank the gods my power is at least somewhat understandable and straightforward, at least enough that I can make practical use of it. Wait, didn''t she imply something before, explaining how it works?

    "... Ana, you said you were ''subjected'' to these glimpses of the future. Do you not control what you see?"

    "Hehe, I''m afraid I do not. Nor do I know who or what controls the things I glimpse." There is a brief break in her armor, the teensiest little waver in her composure.

    "I would like to thank whatever brings these visions to me someday however. They have been very important to me, and have never been wrong yet."

    ... She is much better at lying than I am, good enough that I almost believe her despite the odd taste in my mouth. "What important things have you seen then, Ana? What things are you thankful for?"

    She hesitates a moment, the sight of which gives me goosebumps, which remain even when she gets her usual serene smile back. "Siobhan. As a child I had a vision of a small girl, locked alone in a barn. A barn full of smoke. A barn that was near my parents'' estate. I ran to it, and lo and behold I found that barn was on fire, with the door barred from the outside. I unbarred the door and rushed in to rescue the girl... That girl was Siobhan. And I decided I would keep her close to me from then on. And have her parents arrested for attempted murder."

    "They locked their own daughter to burn alive in a barn? Why?!"

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation."They thought a local village girl who was sweet on their son and heir was a creature of Velvet, and were sacrificing their daughter to Velvet to beg her to tell that monster to leave... We managed to prove the village girl''s human-ness in a court of law and thus it was not ruled a legitimate sacrifice. They both died being sacrificed to Steel, and I suddenly had a Siobhan on a more permanent basis."

    "... I swear, I hate the gods sometimes."

    "It''s hard not to... Or the humans who do their bidding."

    We are quiet for a moment after that, a companionable quiet that feels like a cold night with a warm blanket. Which I quickly ruin by realizing something incredibly important. "Hang on a second! If your future sight was such a good and useful thing, how did you not see me capturing you in your future? Surely any useful being would want to give you some advance warning on that!"

    This amuses Ana to no end, her genuinely laughing in a way she clearly never intended to, finding my antics too amusing to stick to her usual script. "Hahahahahaha! That, Serena, is one of the reasons I would have to thank the monster that chooses what I see! Hehehe, I always catch glimpses of where you will be, of where to find you, but I never get any impression of what you will do when I ambush you! I must confess, I love it when you surprise me, and I would hate any power that would rob me of that."

    "Ah..." I¡¯m blushing, why am I blushing? "... Do you... Get a lot of glimpses of me?"

    "A fair few. Of your triumphs, of your failures... Of your dalliance in a certain Grove of Velvet, so I knew where to send that letter to help you through that farce of a castigation." I audibly swallow, which only amuses Ana all the more. "Worry not, I have no qualms with you visiting the faithful of the Goddess of Beauty and Hollow Carnality. Honestly, the glimpses I see of you only give me further questions, make me hungrier to know more about you. And it seems the more I hunger, the more I see you."

    The word ¡®hunger¡¯ makes me fixate on her lips and pray for glimpses of her teeth. "I... Uhh-"

    "That''s how I knew you''d be in this tent, if you''re wondering. I saw you cutting that painting apart before you did."

    "... I''m sorry you were subjected to such a shamefully wrathful sight."

    "... I''m sorry too."

    Ana considers things for a moment, before she grabs my hand and suddenly lays herself down, pulling me down with her. Side by side we are now sprawled over the bed, and she is giggling. I¡¯m giggling too, and not entirely by choice... My heart won''t stop, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s supposed to beat this hard.

    And then suddenly the giggling stops, and Ana is as steel as any other grown-up I have seen. "... Serena. Why are you on a battlefield?"

    The sudden shift in tone is akin to walking directly into a brick wall, and the sudden calming of my heart makes me feel light-headed. I was briefly ready for the most intense physical exertion in my life, now I don¡¯t think I could lift myself off this bed¡­ I¡¯m supposed to be answering a question, aren¡¯t I?

    "I..." I¡¯m about to say ''Her Majesty'', only that reason has abandoned me, and going by the state of that painting I have abandoned her too. Why am I here? "Well, originally it was to serve and protect someone who I cared about, more than myself, more than anything. Only... She''s gone now... And yet I don''t feel like my purpose has changed. I want to protect, I want to fight to save others. The people I love. And people I will never even meet. To spare them from the world of violence."

    "The world of violence?" Ana asks the question, and yet it¡¯s evident in her tone that she knows the answer better than I do.

    "Y- Y''know! That weird place that gets carved out of the world when people start killing one another? Where you can smell the blood and powder smoke, where the ground is littered with corpses. The place that human beings can''t live, where monsters roam instead."

    This clearly amuses Ana, albeit in a sad way... A wizened way. "Oh, Serena. You''re still new to a battlefield. You think that world is an aberration, a thing that is carved out of the real world."

    "... Isn''t it? It''s so starkly different from the world it comes from. People live far, far away from the world of violence."

    "They do, Serena... But you have your parties muddled up." Her joviality slowly fades from her countenance, and she looks past me, past the wall of the tent behind me, and possibly past all of Lutice itself. "... That place? The one you call ''The World of Violence''... That is the real world, Serena. The world we grew up in, the one where people get along, follow the rules, and submit themselves to the authority of gods and laws? That is a fantasy world, one we humans invented so we could build a place where we could be safe... The real world is violence. The real world is power. And where the smell of blood and powder smoke travels, it tears into the ''World of Peace'' and creates a door to reality. Where humans are predator or prey, butcher or meat. Most cannot tolerate this world, they will do anything to escape it, at first. But one eventually gets used to it. You acclimatize."

    You get used to it? It seems utter madness from the outside, and yet it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve noticed that sickening feeling from crossing the threshold. Am I ''Acclimatizing''?

    "Of course, as you get used to the real world, it becomes harder and harder to return to the World of Peace. The more you see the true nature of reality, the less you can lie to yourself. Our World of Peace is a very fragile thing. And that is what we are here for, as generals." She gently reaches out and strokes my hair, but she still sounds very far-away. "We shepherd people through the real world, we give them laws and rules to obey to help them retain their ability to maintain their delusions, and we lead armies to protect the fantasies of the innocent. To protect them from the villains of the world, to keep the violence away from the eyes of the civilians at their breakfast."

    "... So that''s why you''re a general? To protect a lie?"

    "Some lies are important things, Serena. They protect us. Just because ''The World of Peace'' is a fantasy, an invention, that doesn''t mean that it''s bad. Humans invent unnatural things all the time which help us prosper."

    "And all we have to do is ignore the fact that human nature is inherently violent, that we''re all really predators and prey." A little like Katarina''s priests. Are they the way they are because they see the real world for what it is? "... I don''t like this nature of humankind."

    "It''s simply what it is, Serena. You merely have to change your expectations according to how the world is." ... Ana seems to have learned the same lessons as the former Marshal of Avernia tried to teach me. "Hehe, besides. I didn''t become a general to protect a lie."

    "Then, why did you do this? Why subject yourself to this?"

    "Would you believe it was to save you?"

    I blink... Ana shuffles just a little closer to me, gently taking one of my hands in hers. She¡¯s back to looking at me, rather than past me... What possible significance could I have to this well-spoken Icenian?

    Me, who is so small in her presence. "I... I wouldn''t even know where to begin believing that, Ana."

    ¡°Hehe, believe whatever you like. But, you are important to me, Serena. My rival.¡±

    This close, I catch a glimpse of her teeth. They are sharp, and have an abundance of canines, much like Katarina¡¯s come to think of it. But more than that they are stunningly beautiful. They reflect the lamplight in the tent with such radiance that I simply must reach out to touch them. Or¡­ Have them touch me.

    ¡°Say, Serena. Do you really believe I can change the future?¡± There¡¯s a mite of doubt in her tone, and in the awkward expression of her mouth.

    How dare the world, how dare magic, how dare the future make this woman capable of doubt? I want to scream, but I manage to restrain myself for her sake. ¡°You have to be as capable of changing the future as anyone else, right?¡±

    ¡°... You are entirely right, Serena.¡± My answer doesn¡¯t satisfy her, but it certainly convinces her of something. ¡°So I have to try, don¡¯t I? To change an inexcusable future.¡±

    Passion is a bizarre look on Ana, it doesn''t seem to fit that typically serene, yet playful face. This woman clearly has some grand imposition, a quest bestowed upon her. And yet, being a hero does not suit her at all. She is the very opposite of a brave and noble knight.

    And in that dissonant, sad passion I remember what brought me to this tent in the first place, the question that brought me to this bed.

    "So that¡¯s why Lazierte had to die? To change the future?"

    Ana''s breath catches in her throat, she¡¯s having trouble calculating a response to that. "... I had believed you would surrender if there was no alternative."

    "So you could sacrifice her instead-"

    "I do not sacrifice prisoners, I will have you know!" Ana is genuinely furious with me, before mellowing again. "... Which might be why I keep losing to you. And making you lose too. But I simply cannot respect the Gods, sitting up in heaven and demanding we dance to their strings, and lying about the afterlife."

    "Lying about what?" I blink, she said that so casually that it somehow hits me worse. "You mean... The Gods don''t control the afterlife?"

    "I mean there is no afterlife, Serena... Or at least, I''m quite certain there isn''t one. None of my visions have ever shown an afterlife, not a one. And I have seen many things... Even the occasional thing that I cannot even begin to understand. Things from a future that must be very, very far away. I could be wrong, and my vision of eternity may come any day but... I believe it unlikely that it could exist and not have been shown to me already." Ana seems at peace with this information... Until she suddenly panics. "I... I mean I could be wrong and... And... I''m sorry-"

    "So where does Lazierte go now?"

    Ana is quiet for a minute, my question has no real answer. Nothing that won''t make me cry forever anyway, whether Ana is wrong or right. She looks terrified, laying in bed with me now. She was so carefree and unflappable before, I didn''t imagine she was capable of being this worried... This guilt. I¡­ I brought her to this, didn¡¯t I? Small, useless Serena, simply harming beautiful women again. Sinful, disgusting, just like I had done to Her Majesty. Only Ana says she cares for me, this is even worse! She feels guilty? I am guilty! ¡­ Why am I still staring at her lips?

    Eventually Ana speaks again, fixing her ashamed gaze to mine. "Serena, I may have absolutely no right to say this, but... Never wait to tell someone how you feel about them. Never wait to be with them... We can all die so quickly here. So always be honest, and be honest quickly. You never want to leave things unsaid."

    Just like I predicted, I cry. Cry for things left unsaid to Lazierte, things that could never be said now. And things I have left unsaid and undone with Pasche and Theophania, which I may soon lose the chance to say and do. Ana withdraws from me awkwardly, getting up from the bed, utterly unprepared for me to cry in front of her.

    She¡¯s looking at me with concern, and just a little bit of horror. "... Whatever you are feeling right now, about what you owe me or what you may have done to me. Just, don¡¯t let yourself be hurt. It¡¯s not you who is thinking those things, trust me. And they¡¯ll fade once I leave the room, and you stop staring at my teeth."

    I audibly swallow, had I been that obvious? And¡­ What does she mean by- Is she brainwashing me too? ¡­ No, that¡¯s ridiculous! If she was doing this to me, why would she tell me about it? No, no no no, this is my fault. I simply failed to be normal in the presence of an attractive woman again, this is exactly how it was with Celeste! I make these mistakes, these sins all the time, so how could Anastasia possibly think it¡¯s her fault? I need her to forgive me, I need her-

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m just going to go. Stop ruining your brain before you do something silly¡­ I suggest you return to your own tent, Serena.¡±

    Ana is reluctant to leave, and I¡¯m certainly not going to tell her to. She¡¯s shuddering for a moment, she licks her lips, and then leaves the tent in a hurry. I reach out to stop her, but I can¡¯t move myself from this bed. I¡­ Why am I so desperate for her to return? ¡­ Why am I so desperate for her to forgive me, she killed Lazierte!

    Why am I so desperate for her teeth?

 Chapter Fifty Nine

    It''s been a few days now since our shameful retreat began. Several days spent awkwardly running into Ana, and spent in mourning. Several more awkward breakfasts, in which I have to struggle not to stare longingly at Ana¡¯s lips. I swear, I never see her actually eat anything, she simply joins us for breakfast. Xena and Ana have had a lot to talk about, as have Ana and Katarina oddly enough, with Ana being quite fluent in German as well as Avernian. Maybe I should learn some other languages. Maybe I should find an excuse to spend time with Xena so she might teach me one. Hopefully one that isn''t part of our ''usual fare''. I''m not sure I could stand to hear her typical sweet affirmations mixed with cold logic if they were in German. It seems like a rather violent language from the outside. Not especially stimulating...

    The awkward breakfasts stop when we encounter a river.

    A vast, untamed river, which has no crossing that we can see. It is too deep to ford and too long to make a bridge in a timely manner... This is bad. Our strategy of baiting the Magyars can''t survive delays like this, we''ll be caught... There''s nothing else for it, we''ll simply have to pick a direction and follow the river that way, and pray we find a bridge or a ferry station or somewhere shallow enough to ford. I prepare to give the orders to the troops, we will be heading south along the river.

    My heart almost sinks into my chest when I notice banners on the horizon. They are banners of the Stag''s Head. And not especially many in number. They¡¯re also rapidly approaching, faster than infantry are capable of. This is unsupported cavalry at full gallop. Not enough to threaten us, but they are still the enemy. Best to have our guard up. I give the order for the troops to get in formation, but not to open fire unless fired upon. I have a fair idea of what this is about. I walk forward to receive these ''guests'', and find that chief among them is a familiar face... One who is begrudgingly carrying a white flag of truce.

    "Hello again, Mademoiselle Siobhan." Even with her being on a horse and taller than me besides, I still feel high above her.

    "Little Plain General Girl." Somehow the venom with which she spits these words blunts their impact entirely, it¡¯s simply too petty. "Return my mistress to me. Immediately."

    "It is not in my power to do so, Siobhan." I¡¯m being smug, usually Antoine would be the smug one. "However I can relay your request to her, and if she wishes to return to you then she may do so under her own power."

    Siobhan is glaring a hole right through me, perhaps thinking of forgoing her many firearms entirely to just strangle me with the white flag she¡¯s holding. She instead dismounts her horse and gets on her knees, looking up at me.

    "Please return my mistress to me. Immediately." She¡¯s choking on her contrition.

    I sigh, this isn''t fun if she¡¯s going to beg. "Like I said, that''s her decision to make, not mine. I will not deny her my company if she wishes to maintain it-"

    I feel a hand grasp my shoulder, and hear a voice which is trying its best to be as cheerful as it was when I first heard it. "Hehe, would it offend you if I felt a need to return to my duties, and a desire to return to my Siobhan? Do not consider it a personal slight against you, I simply cannot achieve my aims at your side."

    "Hehe, I expected as much. I can''t keep you forever." I stand aside, allowing Ana to slip past me.

    She is immediately faced with an incredibly well-armed dragoon snatching her, holding her closely, then lifting her and spinning her around. "Mistress Anastasia! Mistress Anastasia!"

    Siobhan¡¯s countenance has almost completely inverted, and it becomes impossible to find any trace of the steel that usually dominates her face. She''s... Giddy, like a child playing with her favorite toy. I catch the smallest glimpse of Anastasia''s face, utterly mortified by her dragoon''s behavior. And only more embarrassed when Siobhan puts her down, and starts doting upon her with a manic concern.

    "My mistress, you must be starving! Please, allow me to-"

    "I''m fine! ... I''m fine, Officer Siobhan, thank you." Anastasia is blushing intensely, she can''t quite look Siobhan in the eye at the moment. "We can handle that later when we''re not in polite company."

    "Ah yes." Siobhan''s eyes glare at me, but this is more the glare of an angry teenager than a cavalry officer of an enemy nation. "... I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude for not bringing harm to my Mistress Anastasia. But make no mistake, if you attempt to separate the two of us again, I will kill you. Without exception or hesitation. Do you understand?"

    I try my very best not to laugh at this pathetic threat, and manage a nod that is almost free of mirth. If I open my mouth to speak I will bellow with laughter so speaking is out of the question. Anastasia herself casts her eyes over to me, her face silently apologetic for their subordinate''s actions. And to think, Anastasia was so cool before... Would Pasche ever treat me like this?

    Siobhan takes Anastasia''s attention again, a mite of professionalism sneaking back into her. "Mistress, the Magyars are on the move heading after the Avernian scum- The Avernian army. We should withdraw before they arrive. Even though we were able to smooth over our little ¡®friendly fire¡¯ incident, I believe they are more than prepared to consider some payback if given the opportunity. We should leave-"

    Siobhan is interrupted by an exhausted looking scout approaching on horseback, moving at such speed that he can barely stop his horse before it tramples me. "General! White Banners on the Horizon, bearing the Wolf''s head!"

    "We must leave. Now." Siobhan tries to grab Anastasia, to pull her away... But Anastasia slips out of Siobhan''s grip, much to the dragoon''s confusion.

    "I''m not abandoning Serena, Siobhan. If the Magyars intend to harm her, they''ll have to get through me."

    Siobhan''s face runs through a gauntlet of every kind of anger and defiance, before finally settling on resigned despair. It''s honestly a little unsettling to witness, this dragoon is simply a completely different person in Anastasia''s presence. A substantially more embarrassing one.

    "I only have a regiment of cavalry with me. Even with our forces combined, we''ll still be outnumbered more than two to one, and we''re up against a river. If we don''t leave now there will be no retreat-"

    "Then there will be no retreat."

    "... Yes, Mistress Anastasia."

    Siobhan falls silent, her eyes silently plotting a kidnapping but the rest of her body remaining obedient. I meanwhile am remarkably confused, turning my attention to Anastasia with incredulous eyes.

    "I don''t think I can win this, Ana. I don''t think I can keep you safe when those Magyars arrive. I don''t think I can keep anyone safe... What point is there in dying for me, in everyone dying for me? If you take Pasche and Xena and the rest with you I can run a delaying action, buy you some time to escape, then you can all-"

    Anastasia slaps me across the face. It stings, but somehow I feel like I¡¯ve yearned for it. "What would the point of that be, Serena?"

    "For you and Pasche and Xena and Katarina and Theophania to live- Oww!"

    She slaps me again, and then turns her attention to Siobhan, ignoring me entirely. "In our flight from the mountain valley the Magyar cavalry was badly hurt in their pursuit as our Icenians bravely held them at bay. We have the advantage in that area, if our infantry can provoke opportunities and breaks in the line then you and the Avernian cavalry should be able to exploit them. Do you think you can cooperate with the Avernians on this?"

    Siobhan is about to protest, before remembering something important. "The Avernian cavalry... They''d be under the purview of that vulgar woman, Pasche, right?"

    I nod, still rubbing my pained cheek, and this gets a smile out of Siobhan.

    "I will not be outdone! Little Plain General Girl, tell your cavalry officer to assemble her horses. We''ll see who is a better servant to their mistress!"

    Siobhan remounts her horse and sees to her cavalry, clearly ecstatic to play with Pasche again. Oh gods, oh hell, they are going to start kissing, aren''t they? Presuming we don''t all die here at any rate, which is very very unlikely... I should have shown her how I felt, shouldn''t I? ... I promise, if I live, I will show her how I feel. Every single detail of how I feel.

    Anastasia''s face holds one final mite of embarrassment before she swallows it down and becomes dissonantly cold and logical. "... If we manage to split the Magyar lines and give the cavalry opportunities to punish over-extension, we might be able to provoke a rout. I''ve read your brother''s dispatches, it''s what he would do, I''m sure. We don''t have much ground to lose here but if we can use it then we should, we can break up the enemy''s formation by giving them successes in advantageous positions for us, which-"

    "Why?"

    "... Serena, this is no time for-"

    "Why?"

    "Serena, please, I am trying to-"

    "You are trying to die just to share a mass grave with me, and I want to know why."

    With this, Anastasia''s countenance turns a little cruel... And she kisses me. It feels desperate; she¡¯s struggling not to bite my lip.

    "See to your troops, Serena Pollineux. I can''t take command for you."

    With that she leaves, and I am left dumbstruck in the middle of camp, hating that good and worthy people keep insisting on being killed for my sake... But as the banners appear on the horizon I know I can''t ponder for long. I rush over to the troops, mercifully still in formation to face our Icenian intruders, and start giving them their orders. What was it that Anastasia said? Manipulate the Magyars by giving them victories advantageous to us? ... Seems to be the best strategy we have right now, our army is just about capable of giving the Magyars victories... I see Pasche has assembled her cavalry, and looks ready to go to war. Someone must have told her Siobhan is here, and is interested in a contest. I wonder if Siobhan gets shot even half as much as Pasche does.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    I order an advance, we''ll need as much space to work with as possible if we are going to pull this off. The order flows through the army, the masses of men slowly coming to life and obeying my orders. Now I just have to decide who here is going to die first. I may have enough magic to hold either of the flanks or the center, but no more than that. Whoever I stand with is going to fight to the death, the rest are likely to break... If we break in the center, the enemy is likely to advance there quickly, hoping to overwhelm our flanks. It''s the most dangerous place for us to break.

    For both sides, they''ll be vulnerable concentrating their forces there, and our cavalry might just have a perfect opportunity to punish them. It might just make us lose all the faster, but any plan that might let us win this is worth trying. I stick to the left wing of the army, this will only work if the flanks stay solid. The other side will just have to make do.

    The soldiers holding those approaching banners are close enough that they can be made out with the naked eye. I call for the army to hold their position. Eventually they even obey the order, with the men who hear it last awkwardly shifting backward to present a cohesive line.

    The army before us is enormous. Enormous isn''t an adequate term, it''s titanic. Forming its own horizon with glints of steel bayonets reflecting the light of the sun, the beast ahead of us is almost impossibly large to behold. All moving in formation, all armed and disciplined, and determined to crush us. My hand is shaking, I wish I had my own Serena.

    I see Pasche getting her cavalry into formation, and Katarina and her Greenjackets joining the right flank of the army. I know Xena and Theophania are behind me, and Anastasia is... Somewhere in our humble army, doing something important no doubt. I swallow back my fear, I have my own Serena. It''s them. It''s always been them.

    Our handful of cannons sing, and solid shot strikes true against the encroaching monster, maiming and tearing through some of the soldiers approaching. It doesn''t even slow them, but that''s to be expected. No amount of death stops these monsters, fear does. Our Lions are just as scared as I am, I wonder if they too are thinking of loved ones they must protect. I am tempted to throw my magic upon them now, but I have to save that for when the enemy is upon us. The tension will simply have to be survived. One of the soldiers breaks and attempts to run, but is struck by an ensign''s baton roughly, and forced back into line. Maybe it''s not love keeping them in line after all.

    Another volley of cannon fire, another dozen or so Magyars are dead or maimed.

    Another volley of cannon fire, it''s like a clock ticking down to the moment the Wolves attack us.

    Another volley of cannon fire, I want to see Lazierte again.

    Another volley of cannon fire, the Magyars are within musket range.

    The Lions are at least still professional soldiers, even in the most hopeless of circumstances. They hold their fire until the Magyars are in effective range. All across the line I hear the screams of officers, as the army comes to life once again.

    "Present!"

    "Make Ready!"

    "Fire!"

    For a moment, the entire world is nothing but smoke. It''s hard to think that anything or anyone could possibly have survived such a volley, so many guns had fired all at once. But the volley that follows makes clear that they are still alive, and still eager to kill us all.

    Hundreds of Lions fall in an instant, and the tension boils over into the screams and cries of the wounded and terrified. At least, it does until I throw my magic over them. Then my wing of the army is silent, a grim kind of bravery having consumed them. Usually they''re louder than this, more boisterous, this is weird. But at least they are firing by rank, reloading their muskets, and dying without fear or complaint. I guess my magic doesn''t necessarily make them happy about it.

    Men fall before me in droves. It''s hard to think any of them will live long enough for us to be able to bait the Magyars into our trap. But they still hold, even as each new wave of death crashing upon them hurts my heart. It brings with it yet another wave of fear, that I must take so the men are spared it. Mercifully the center of the army crumbles, and the Magyars flood the new hole in our lines. I can almost feel it, being outflanked again, being knowingly so. Some of the Magyars form lines parallel to our own, ready to fire into our side.

    And then Pasche hits them.

    The new lines dissolve quickly, the Wolves can¡¯t flee fast enough to not be slaughtered by Pasche and her cavalry. Other Magyars attempting to form lines to counter Pasche are blasted by the cannons, disrupting their reformation and making them vulnerable. Pasche is soon joined by the Icenian cavalry, firing carbines into any hastily assembled formations before charging. Siobhan and Pasche''s horses complement each other rather well, Pasche exploits chaos and Siobhan keeps it going. Maybe they do deserve one another... But I''m not going to let her keep Pasche all to herself.

    Presuming I live through this in any case. Even as Pasche and Siobhan savage the Magyars who fell into our trap in the center, we are still outnumbered on the flanks, and the Wolves are holding strong. I can barely even see them through the powder smoke, but I can see the soldiers under my direct command die with each new booming volley. It doesn''t look good... And then I hear cannons again, out of our timing.

    The man next to me is soon beheaded by a giant lead ball, and the Lions are savaged and maimed by solid shot. The Wolves have set up their cannons, and clearly have a lot more of them than we do. There is a mighty cheer across the field, and the sound of thunderous footfalls approaching our position. They''re charging, they''re going to wipe us out entirely... It''s hopeless, isn''t it? Even the very best we could have done is not enough to survive this.

    We ravaged their center, we held for so long, but reality has finally come to take us to hell. The Lions fire one last volley, try their best to brace themselves, and are pushed apart by the sheer weight of the Magyar Monster. The moment we fall, these men will be able to tear our cavalry apart.

    I draw my sword, I will buy Pasche every second that I can.

    Approaching me first is a decorated sergeant. I pull out my gun and shoot him dispassionately, he''ll earn no medals here. The next appears to be a middle aged man with graying hair, whose uniform is somewhat more elaborate, a colonel perhaps? He stops charging right before me and gives a fencing salute... He wants a fair fight?

    It''d only be fair if my heart wasn''t being shared with hundreds of shell-shocked survivors right now. I sigh, and let the magic go. No one is going to be fleeing now, so what good does it do to make me useless in a fight? I return the fencing salute and take up the stance my brother taught me. This man¡¯s stance is a little sloppy, but he looks eager. So eager in fact he draws his own pistol and shoots a Magyar regular who attempts to bayonet me from behind. A very messed up kind of honor, but I suppose I can reward it with a clean death.

    He makes the first swing, one too strong for me to parry but one easily dodged. My brother moved past such openings over fifty duels ago, this man is behind on his studies, or on his practice. He tries to hit me on the backswing, a slightly pathetic effort, one which even I can deflect. This puts his arm in a rather awkward position, but I notice now that the Magyar soldiers around us are standing around and watching, maintaining the sanctity of this little duel. Some of them are cheering... I think Xena said the troopers spoke Carpathian? It''s all so far away now.

    I push him away, giving him the chance to regain his form. If I win this duel I''ll be mobbed to death by the soldiers around and as long as it goes on, I''m at least tying these soldiers down. It seems a strange bit of sport for these Magyars to engage in, but when you''re winning you can do as you like.

    The Colonel charges at me again, there is a perfect opportunity to skewer him before he can bring his sword down upon me. I dodge, and punish his swing by pushing him backwards again. I almost feel sorry for the man, I''m more educating him than fighting him. A slash across my chest comes next, easily parried and punished with a push kick to his gut. He''s panting now...

    Am I going to exhaust him to death before he manages to kill me? Somewhere far away cannons fire again, but I can''t hear their impact anywhere. Odd.

    He stabs at me this time, and when it is easily deflected he stabs again and again and again. His form is getting even sloppier as he is exhausted, and eventually I take my opportunity. I grab his wrist and pull him forward onto the ground, him landing roughly on his front. He turns around to face me, and feels the tip of my sword on his chest. Just a little bit of effort would be enough to kill him. I remove my sword. The dance must continue.

    Except the man does not get up. He simply smiles at me, and says something in a language I do not understand. The soldiers around us look confused, they don''t seem to understand how their colonel could possibly have lost. One of them makes ready with their musket, ready to fire on me, but another shout from the colonel prompts a fellow trooper to slap that man on the back of the head, and he sheepishly returns the gun to his side...

    There''s music approaching. Why is there music approaching? Flutes and fifes, not instruments that the Avernian army uses. What''s happening here? The colonel quickly scrambles to his feet, preparing to leave in a hurry, but before he does, he offers me his hand. I sheathe my sword and take it, shaking it respectfully. Circumstances notwithstanding, this was honestly a little vindicating. I don''t usually get to have a proper fencing match with anyone other than my brother.

    The colonel and his troops quickly withdraw, leaving me alone amongst the powder smoke in a field of meat that was once an army... Am I the only one left alive? ... It''s so cruel a prospect to contemplate and yet it is inescapable, and fills me with unbridled horror, and before I know it I am screaming.

    "Someone?! Anyone?! Please tell me I am not alone!"

    My terrified screams are answered by hoofbeats, from two directions. And the first to arrive is cavalry from the Magyar lines, but as they get close I see the Lion¡¯s head banner among them. And at the head of them is my brother, looking upon me with not quite enough concern.

    "Is something the matter, sis?"

    The powder clears, and only then does he notice the blanket of corpses around me, so thick and complete that I cannot see even an inch of the field below us. I want to scream all over again, Antoine has come to the rescue... Just in time to only save me.

    The second set of hoofbeats is Pasche approaching with her mauled cavalry regiment. She looks haggard and bloody, and her skin is white as a sheet. Even so she practically jumps off her horse to join me on the ground, almost tripping on a corpse on impact. She holds me tightly, not to comfort me but in need of comfort. She''s hurt badly this time and it shows. Yet she is alive. I weep for joy and hold her as tightly as I am able. If she wasn''t still wearing her cuirass, I might have squeezed her to death.

    Soon Xena and Katarina filter in, accompanied by a few dozen Leather priests, some of whom are missing limbs or clutching bullet wounds. I can already tell these are the last survivors of Katarina''s former battalion of cannibals. Still, they are alive, and they are smiling. Theophania approaches on horseback as well, carrying a notepad and a pencil and writing furiously... Her writing ceases as she realizes where she''s found me, and she stashes her journalistic equipment in her saddlebag before dismounting her horse and joining me... Everyone''s here, everyone I love has managed to make it through- Wait.

    "Where''s Anastasia?"

    Katarina of all people approaches and hands me a letter, before joining the big group hug. In contrast to her previous letter to me, this one is scrawled hastily, and is short.

    "I will see you again."

    I take the letter and stash it in my jacket, awkwardly as I am still being held by Pasche and Theophania. Eventually Xena pulls Pasche away from me, she has to see to the poor girl¡¯s wounds. And Theophania withdraws from me, looking over me awkwardly, guilty for having put her arms around me. I immediately miss them. I don¡¯t want to be alone here.

    My brother dismounts his horse and gives me a salute, along with a very pleased smile. ¡°Sis, that was utterly perfect! I could not have planned this action better, we¡¯ve broken the best that the Magyar Empire has to offer! And we couldn¡¯t have done it without you, sis! We¡¯ve won-¡±

    I slap him. I stare at my hand, what have I just done?

    ¡°... Sis? What was that for?!¡±

    ¡°... Brother¡­¡± He was celebrating our victory, our amazing victory, but¡­ ¡°Lazierte is dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ That¡¯s horrible! I am so sorry, sis. I can¡¯t believe the Magyars-¡±

    ¡°You insisted she accompany me into that valley. You came up with this plan to split our forces to outflank the Magyars¡­ This is your fault, brother! You¡­ You killed Lazierte!¡± I¡¯m screaming, everyone is staring at me but I can¡¯t stop screaming. ¡°I loved her, and you killed her!¡±

    I collapse to my knees again, I¡¯m weeping inconsolably. Antoine doesn¡¯t seem to have moved, utterly shocked by my accusation and not being able to fully process it. He loved her too, didn¡¯t he? ¡­ Theophania gingerly approaches me, and I roughly grab and hold her close to me as I cry¡­ I feel Xena slip something into my mouth, and seeing as I am utterly abnormal I swallow immediately.

    I am asleep in an instant, only held up by Theophania¡¯s embrace.

 Chapter Sixty

    I wake up on an infirmary bed, and find my surroundings oddly quiet. No hustle and bustle, no screaming, no crying or praying. It¡¯s empty. I suppose not many soldiers survived their wounds in that last battle.

    It¡¯s not silent however, I hear talking from the next bed over, separated from me by a white sheet. It¡¯s Xena, she¡¯s chastising Pasche for thinking she¡¯s bulletproof. At this point she might actually be, but I appreciate Xena advising caution regardless. I don¡¯t want anyone savaging Pasche like that, I don¡¯t want her getting hurt for me. My desire to bite and scratch and push and press her down notwithstanding, she deserves all the happiness in the world. Not scars, not wounds, not teeth.

    Xena leaves Pasche¡¯s bedside, and slips through the curtain to check on me. I half expect her to flick my head for having been so stupid, but no such discipline comes.

    ¡°Serena I didn¡¯t find any wounds on you. Are you okay?¡± Xena sounds more worried for me being completely unharmed.

    ¡°I think so.¡± My body feels heavy, and I have some passive awareness that anything that reminds me of Lazierte will make me scream. ¡°Relatively. Like the eye of a storm, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°I can understand that.¡± She spends a few moments simply staring at my body, looking lost. ¡°I can yell at your brother more if that will help your mood.¡±

    I chuckle; I¡¯m tempted to accept her offer. ¡°I think he finds it amusing when you do it.¡±

    ¡°Haaaah, my anger only concerns the people I care about. I guess Antoine knows I won¡¯t actually melt him into slurry, so long as he doesn¡¯t go too far with Katarina.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think Katarina would break every bone in his body first? If he upset her?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s your brother, Serena. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d be able to kill your brother. That and she likes the braggart, somehow, despite having no idea what he¡¯s saying. She wants to learn Avernian so she can speak to her friends, the Pollineuxes.¡±

    ¡°Are you teaching her?¡±

    ¡°... I must confess I don¡¯t much like the language.¡± Is Xena dodging a question?!

    This is serious¡­ But I think I¡¯d still like to speak to Katarina. ¡°Then, could you teach me German?¡±

    Xena nods, and casts her eyes to the floor. ¡°I¡¯d like that a great deal. I must confess I¡¯d prefer to vet who does and does not speak with Katarina. Your brother isn¡¯t especially considerate or subtle about her circumstances. I imagine it would cause Katarina considerable distress to actually know what he¡¯s saying. Meanwhile you¡­ Well, you¡¯ve made promises that I expect you to keep.¡±

    Not speculating about Katarina¡­ Xena is genuinely terrified. I wonder if she¡¯s been sleeping more recently.

    ¡°And that I will¡­ I don¡¯t know what this is about but you¡¯re clearly concerned about Katarina, and I trust you to know how best to protect her.¡±

    ¡°That makes one of us¡­¡± Xena reaches into a pocket of her apron and produces a piece of scrap paper, as well as a familiar looking package, handing both to me. ¡°I envy you, Serena Pollineux. There¡¯s a kind of sickness every person has in them, that you can treat while I cannot. So¡­ Consider that to be a prescription.¡±

    I take the paper, unfolding it curiously, reading it to myself as Xena slips back out through the curtain.

    ¡°Serena. I believe that Pasche needs to speak to you, and that you need to speak to her as well. Know that I am happy no matter where that conversation goes. Just try not to aggravate her wounds too much. Love, Xena.¡±

    Xena really is the smartest woman I know. She¡¯s right, I do need to speak with Pasche. And she¡¯s only a single curtain away. I check the package, it¡¯s the one that tailor in Medhelanon had slipped amongst our purchased dresses. I open it¡­ Underwear. Purple underwear, nice silky feel¡­ Now that¡¯s irresponsible of Xena, how is Pasche going to avoid aggravating her wounds if I¡¯m wearing these? I suppose I¡¯ll just have to be especially careful with her. No biting, no pushing, no marking. Just talking. Surely just talking.

    I rise to my feet, the heavy feeling in my limbs has gone away, and certain sad topics are far from my mind! Definitely very far, Pasche deserves my full attention. I remove my white hospital dress and change back into my uniform, along with the new undergarments. Now properly attired, I slip through the curtain, and see Pasche lying upon her hospital bed, reading an old history textbook. She¡¯s wearing a thin white nightdress, one I can see through just a little¡­

    There are bandages over her stomach and her left arm¡­ Concealing new wounds, no doubt. Future scars, future marks. My poor, long-suffering Pasche.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Hey Serena¡­¡± Pasche puts the book down and gives me her full attention, her countenance fragile¡­ Vulnerable. ¡°I uhh¡­ I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay.¡±

    I audibly swallow, staring at my savaged Pasche. More than just the bandages, I get a tantalizing impression of unblemished skin beneath the nightdress, bits of her that have been unmarked by enemy action. Bits that can be mine¡­ I was doing something, what was I doing again?

    I pull out the little piece of paper Xena gave me to remind myself why I came here again. ¡°Pasche, we need to talk.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I know.¡± Pasche is struggling to keep her eyes on me. ¡°I umm¡­ I¡¯m happy for you and Xena, I really am. And Lucretia, whatever is going on there, I uhhh¡­ I¡¯m happy that you¡¯re happy.¡±

    Pasche is sitting up, the nightgown¡¯s neckline is just a little loose, and gives a glimpse of her skin below. She¡¯s wearing a brasserie. It¡¯s infuriating me and I would like to get rid of it. At least the flesh beneath is likely pristine, there are no bandages over her chest after all.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Medhelanon. I didn¡¯t mean to displease you. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure who I am without you¡­ I suppose that I¡¯m the Baron of Etrun without you, but I don¡¯t know who that is.¡±

    The hem on that dress is fairly high as well, giving an excellent view of her muscular, unblemished thighs. There¡¯d be a little bite to those, a bit of toughness. I imagine it would feel heavenly to run my nails upon that skin, and to hear Pasche squeal at the touch.

    ¡°I just¡­ Ever since you saved me, you¡¯ve been the most important thing in my life. I know I can¡¯t be the most important thing in yours, but it still hurts¡­¡±

    She¡¯s almost certainly wearing undergarments, I haven¡¯t much considered Pasche¡¯s peculiar anatomy, but I know it plays a role in my feverish dreamings. I know it has a feminine aura about it¡­ I¡¯m curious how it feels.

    ¡°I uhh¡­ Serena? Are you listening?¡± Pasche snaps her fingers, looking at me with concern. ¡°Serena, aren¡¯t you going to say something?¡±

    I walk forward and take her cheeks in my hands. Before she can say anything, I kiss her. Before she can even register this, I slip my tongue into her mouth. Seeing her is hard without kissing her, I¡¯ll be trying to do less of that.

    Pasche¡¯s arms are firmly at her sides. She¡¯s desperately confused by my conduct, but her tongue does move with mine. She can¡¯t quite control everything, even if she tries. Makes her a great deal like me in that fashion, there are limits to how much we can resist one another.

    She does pull away eventually, breathing heavily, staring at me with every human emotion. ¡°Serena¡­ What the hell-¡±

    ¡°I said I had to talk to you. And that¡¯s something I needed to say.¡± I¡¯m smiling, trying to put her at ease, but I am just a little bit displeased that she pulled away from me. ¡°I have a lot more to say than that of course.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I mean, I¡¯m happy to¡­ Hear it?¡± Pasche looks very cute when she¡¯s confused. ¡°But, you¡¯re with Xena! Or Lucretia! I¡¯m not sure which but either way you¡¯re happy! With someone who isn¡¯t me! ¡­ Didn¡¯t I lose you?¡±

    I crawl upon Pasche¡¯s bed so she can no longer pull away from me. I make my way up her form, planting a leg on either side of her body and a hand on either side of her head. She shrinks just a little bit beneath me¡­ I¡¯ve left the poor girl terrified of this, haven¡¯t I? By rebuffing her advances, by being so cruel. I have to fix this, I have to make her comfortable. Having her be mine means nothing if she is not happily mine.

    I kiss her cheek, she really is speaking too much right now. "That''s just it, you didn''t ''lose'' anything. At least, you needn''t lose anything if you don''t want to."

    "I don''t get it. Are... Are you planning to leave Xena for me? I won''t allow that, Xena is a precious friend and-"

    Stolen story; please report."And I''m not leaving her. I love her, and I love you. I love Theophania, I love... Loved, Lazierte." I swallow something which threatens to kill this moment, it is still difficult to refer to my very first best friend in the past tense. "And I am rather smitten with both Mademoiselle Delphine and President Lucretia, it must be said."

    "All... Those women? All of them?"

    "All of them, and also you! Pasche, I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. Entirely yours! Only... I want to not be only entirely yours. I want to be entirely Xena''s too. And entirely Theophania''s, and a twelfth Lucretia¡¯s and maybe some proportion of my Icenian rival''s. That one I''m still a bit confused about-"

    "But... That doesn''t make mathematical sense, Serena-aaaahh!"

    I bite her collarbone this time. I make a mental note to bite her every time she dares try to bring math into this.

    It has the desired effect, cutting off Pasche''s pedantry in an instant. "... Is Xena okay with this?"

    "She encouraged it, so long as I don¡¯t hurt you too badly. This is a part of me, this desire to wholeheartedly be with so many, and she wants me to be myself... And Anastasia taught me that life is a fickle thing, that there are simply too many ways we can die at any time to not take what we want now." I decide to omit Mademoiselle Delphine''s little theory that there is no afterlife, it would perhaps be a little inappropriate right now. "You''ve said you love me before. You even offered to be my brave and noble knight, to make me your personal princess... I want you to know what that means... And I want you to tell me that you love me still, knowing exactly what that means."

    Pasche is quiet for an oddly long time after that, trying to figure something out in her head... Honestly it¡¯s enough to make my confidence begin to wane, and for anxiety to start to chip away at my desire. It¡¯s becoming unbearable, and part of me wants to slip away from her. A small part of me prefers rejection over anticipation... But I stay. I will get my answer, it doesn''t matter if my stomach feels like a deep pit full of bees, and if my limbs itch to act. I''ll wait as long as Pasche needs.

    "... This just feels a little sudden..." Pasche sounds unsure, and I know her well enough by now to know she isn''t being entirely candid with me, or herself.

    And I know that she needs to be forced just a little, so she knows she¡¯s allowed to be honest. "This has been a long time coming. It''s been overdue since at least our trip to the tailor shop in Medhelanon, Pasche. I know you think so too, or else you''d not have put on that little black dress."

    "Heh... I guess that makes sense..." Pasche seems to fondly regard the memory... Until something hits her countenance like a brick wall. "... It''s like it was with Xena all over again, with her new medication. You''re right, this isn''t too sudden. No amount of preparation was going to give me the ability to handle this. I just... Another thing I had resigned myself to, yet another fact of the universe I simply had to accept and move on from, has just shattered before my eyes in a way I never even conceptualized as possible! ... Why do you people keep doing that?!"

    She''s crying... But she is also laughing just a little... And suddenly my arms keeping her trapped on this bed are holding her closely. My second-ever best friend is crying and I want to comfort her. To offer her a shoulder to cry on. To show her this is okay.

    And to laugh with her, because I love her. "We keep breaking the world for you because you are worth it. There is nothing else to it, Pasche."

    I quickly feel her arms around me as well, she¡¯s holding me tightly. ¡°You¡­ Hehe, you really did leave me wondering for a long while. Left me alone with a lot of painful nights. I know you were hurt, you were unwell but¡­ I¡¯m sorry that I couldn¡¯t stop wanting you before you were ready. I¡¯m sorry that it hurt when you weren¡¯t able to be mine.¡±

    ¡°Pasche¡­¡± I consider her words¡­ And then bite her earlobe playfully. ¡°I mistreated you. I was cruel. I wanted you the entire time and my stupid pain convinced me that was wrong. You are allowed to be angry, you¡¯re owed a little fury. And¡­ I think you¡¯re owed an awful lot of my understanding.¡±

    Pasche spends a moment considering, before giving her best attempt at a ¡®wicked¡¯ grin. "Well, if you really think you owe me something, then you better promise to be entirely mine, even if you''re entirely someone else''s too. You''re offering me a miracle here and I want it to be a good one!"

    I giggle, she¡¯s so cute when she¡¯s demanding! "I''ll promise that if you promise to never, ever die-"

    "I will never, ever die."

    She''s smiling... She''s being about as sincere as I typically am when someone has me make that exact same promise. But I''ll take it. And I''ll be entirely hers in return. And the first step of that is kissing her again. This kiss is softer, less hungry, less overcome with a boiling passion left to simmer for months too long.

    At least, it starts that way.

    The hunger soon rocks my body again. It was barely suppressed when I was trying to respect Pasche''s ability to say no, and it is now unbridled for a wanting Pasche. I bite her lip and revel in the sensation of my teeth against her... And in her subsequent little squeak.

    Pasche pulls away to breath, and to giggle in delight. ¡°Hehe, all the wounds I¡¯ve taken in your service, and you¡¯re still willing to add to them? Someone who didn¡¯t love it might just be offended.¡±

    She loves it, huh? Perhaps this is why she keeps getting herself hurt for me, because this is precisely what she wants. I guess that makes all her scars and wounds my marks in a way, doesn¡¯t it? ¡­ But I am not going to forgive anyone who dared mar her skin like this. My teeth are what will bring her this bliss.

    I want her skin now. ¡°Pasche, are you going to remove that nightdress? Or will I tear it off you?"

    I follow my little question with a bite to Pasche''s earlobe, which draws a perfect little yelp from the girl as she struggles to slip herself out of her thin little clothing. I was looking forward to tearing the flimsy material apart and leaving Pasche in nothing but tatters.

    I can¡¯t be disappointed with the result though, seeing her in just her underthings has me almost delirious. I can do all the things I wanted to do to her in Medhelanon, can¡¯t I? The first thing I want to do is remove that brasserie, to see her pristine chest and make it mine.

    I undo her hooks and throw Pasche''s brassiere into the surrounding curtains, exposing her small but growing breasts to me... Pasche sounds nervous, making soft, little, anxious noises as I stare transfixed... It¡¯s beautiful...

    And it will be indulged. I lean my head down to kiss Pasche¡¯s chest, softly and slowly, gently breathing on her nipple. If I were with Xena I¡¯d simply surrender to my passions entirely, kiss and bite and lick and lose myself entirely in its magnificence but Pasche¡­ I want to take my time. I want to savor the flesh and the screams.

    Pasche shudders as I give my delicate ministrations, a kiss, a lick, a breath, a little tonguing of her nipple¡­ And finally, a bite to her delicate flesh, determined to leave a mark. As soon as my teeth are upon her I am hooked, and soon that mark is joined by another, a third, a fourth, and soon I have left a constellation of purple and red upon her breasts, each ¡®star¡¯ coming with its own perfect moan.

    I feel Pasche''s hands upon my arms, and for a moment I¡¯m worried she¡¯s trying to make me stop... But no such order comes. "Serena... Don''t you feel a little... Overdressed?"

    I feel almost like laughing, I¡¯ve kept my uniform jacket on this entire time and my dress is still entirely buttoned up. Ridiculous behavior, I quickly throw the jacket aside to join Pasche¡¯s brasserie, and am about to reach for my buttons, before realizing¡­

    "Pasche. Could you help me with these?" I gesture to my dress with the most sinful grin I can muster. "I have the worst habit of tearing clothes that get in my way."

    Pasche eagerly complies, undoing my buttons with an almost hypnotized zeal... At least until my chest is visible, giving her a good look at the underthings I chose to wear to this. The shocked desire in Pasche¡¯s eyes makes it clear I made the right choice with these. I want Pasche to have the very best of me, after all, especially since she''s been waiting for so, so very long.

    She undoes the next button very slowly, utterly enraptured by the sight of me... Before skipping the rest of my dress and going right to my brasserie. Which seems odd to me given how pretty it is, but I am not going to deny myself Pasche''s touch. I slip my arms out of my dress, letting it fall lazily to my sides, pooling around my hips as I straddle Pasche. My bra is soon off of me, and my rather unimpressive chest is exposed to Pasche''s eyes-

    "Serena... I love you."

    ... She looks upon my form with such wonderment and joy that I can''t help but be enchanted by her gaze. I couldn''t help but feel her sincerity... I feel beautiful.

    And I am going to make Pasche feel beautiful. I quickly leaned down to kiss her again, my chest pressed against hers... And all the while I reach down to slip Pasche¡¯s firmness free of her underthings. She freezes for a moment, realizing what I am reaching for, but I kiss her deeply as I run my hand over it, getting a feel for this particular bit of Pasche. It¡¯s soft, there¡¯s a tenderness, and it¡¯s provoking such lovely shudders from the girl beneath me. And still, Pasche is nervous about it.

    I throw out my magic and envelop her in it, I want her to be brave and I want her to be her.. "Pasche... It''s okay. You can do anything you like... I want it."

    She slowly reaches her hand down my sides, only stopping when her fingers reach my undergarments.

    "Serena... Are you sure?" She hesitates, we both know that if I said no she will die, but she clearly feels obligated to let me kill her if I want to.

    And she just promised me she''d never die too, Pasche is silly. "I''m sure, Pasche. Every single part of you is something that I want."

    A beautiful something snaps in Pasche, and soon she has my underthings off of me. I hadn''t truly appreciated just how utterly soaked they were until they were pulled off my form. I wonder if such good purple fabric is wasted on me... I feel Pasche''s tip enter me, and I don''t wonder much of anything after that. All the rest is bites and kisses, whines and moans, and breathless professions of love... And finally orgasm.

    Pasche tries to pull away at the final second, but I don''t let her. I want all of her, I will not be denied this. And with that, Pasche is spent beneath me, panting and struggling to breathe in the afterglow. I get a good look at her, the panting mess that she is, and I marvel at the marks I have given her, sitting alongside her battle scars... I will have anyone else in the world who has hurt Pasche tied to a cannon and blasted to pieces. Her body is my canvas, no one else will be allowed to make their mark. She looks so... Vulnerable, gasping for breath beneath me. It¡¯s thrilling.

    "I..." Pasche can barely form words, rasping out vaguely incoherent babblings. "Marie never... She was so gentle... But I think I needed that."

    She¡¯s smiling up at me warmly, I swear I see her mouth ''I love you'' in between all the manic breathing. A very lovely sentiment, one which I try to reciprocate. But those aren''t the words that leave my mouth.

    "Again."

    Pasche''s panting stops abruptly as she tries to process my words. "I... What-"

    "Again." She¡¯s still inside me, my hips simply have to begin moving again.

    "But that was- How are you-"

    "Again."

    Pasche tries to give a feeble protest, but I kiss her before she can manage it. It has taken us so long to get to this point, I have wasted so much time up until now, so we are going again.

    And again, and again, and again.

 Chapter Sixty One

    The march back to Ravenna is a rather solemn affair, dalliance with Pasche notwithstanding. But at least the breakfasts have become substantially less awkward after showing Pasche how I feel, though they are substantially more awkward for Antoine knowing how I feel. It''s become difficult to look at him in honesty. I know I should apologize for my outburst, and yet I still feel furious looking at him. Lazierte''s death was not his fault, he had no idea there were Icenians in the area and neither did I. And yet, my blood boils and I want to scream when he calls me ''sis''. It''s untenable, I don''t want to be mad at my brother like this... I can never say what I should have said to Lazierte, I need to make peace with that.

    And I''d found her diary on her writing desk along with that letter. It''s as good a place as any to start.

    Lazierte''s penmanship is a lot more delicate and proper than I''d imagined from her, especially in comparison to my horrid chicken scratch. I suppose she must simply be dedicated to conveying the truth of the past, and is willing to put in the effort to ensure it''s done with a steady hand.

    ¡°17th of Dumannios:

    I cannot believe that braying Jackass just left me here! That utter fucking worm! First he conquers his way all the way to the Gates of Ravenna in a campaign no-one could possibly ever emulate, and then he just leaves?! And leaves me, the one who has been dealing with the brunt of his frankly embarrassing flirtations, in charge of the army?! I just do not understand him, I don''t understand the things he does. How is he Serena''s brother? I suppose she must have taken all the good sense in the family, along with their good looks. And all of the decency! ... He expects me to storm Ravenna with this army. A walled city whose defenders outnumber us, while the Magyars dance at our flanks, threatening to surround us. I don''t even think our resident ''King of Cannons'' could win this battle, no matter what stupid title he invents for himself this week. I''m starting to think he only fights in wars to be a celebrity, rather than to protect the things that matter to him... I have to withdraw. This situation is untenable, I need to fall back and wait for a better opportunity. Find good defensive ground, attrit the titanic wolf bearing down on us. Maybe this is why Antoine left.

    Because this is an untenable situation and now it isn''t his fault. Whatever the reason, I have to keep the army alive, I can''t die in Samnia... Serena''s waiting for me. I miss Serena.¡±

    I breathe. I haven''t breathed since I started reading. Her diary contains a lot of words about my brother, a great many thoughts of me... And yet nothing about Her Majesty, not a thing at all! I flip to the next entry, surely there must be something!

    ¡°18th of Dumannios:

    I miss Serena¡­¡±

    ... I miss Lazierte too. I miss her dumb little laugh, I miss her slightly sharp hugs. I miss her improper sense of propriety. I miss her. I read on, this is all of her I have left.

    ¡±19th of Dumannios:

    The Magyars were a step ahead of us today, they''d taken one of the towns on our retreat path. They however were prepared for the shattered remnants of an army on the retreat from a failure at Ravenna, but not for a cohesive, complete army, withdrawing in good order. My 505th bore the brunt of the fighting, I lost over a hundred of them. But there were almost enough surrendered Magyars to replenish their numbers, and for the rest? Well, there were local Samnians who seemed fit enough to house a soldier... Some of the soldiers outside my own regiment took to looting the town, stealing food, livestock, old jewelry and valuables... And the wives of some of the local Samnians, or at least their nights. They refused my orders to cease this atrocity, and their officers refused my order to keep their men in line. I''m not Antoine, I''m just a colonel, I have no power here. Antoine kept them in line due to their respect and reverence of the man, without him here they''re falling back into bad habits... I''ll need to exercise authority some other way.¡±

    ¡°20th of Dumannios:

    I miss Serena¡­¡±

    ¡°21st of Dumannios:

    I miss Serena¡­¡±

    ¡°22nd of Dumannios:

    I miss Serena¡­¡±

    A fair few of the entries follow that pattern, some talk about Lazierte''s badly mauled forces being ''replenished'' seemingly overnight, more horror stories of disobedient soldiers and obstinate officers. And more entries that simply miss me. The war had treated Lazierte so roughly. So much has been demanded of the poor girl, expected to fill Antoine''s shoes. Just like me...

    As I go on the horrors described only become more lurid, and the entries missing me become more frequent, until one entry, the last entry, written in a scrawled hand, catches my eye.

    ¡°29th of Rivros:

    It''s been over a month, but finally I have power over them. They listen to me now, they obey my commands. They don''t respect me, they will never respect me, but I have no need of their respect. I have their fear. The Magyar army was starting to close in on us, the men''s slovenly nature and insubordination was slowing our army and giving our enemy the chance to catch us, but I have solved both issues at once. Leather, my least favorite divine, my eternal rival, at least has her uses. Or rather, her monsters do. While the soldiers rested in camp, sharing the spoils of their looting, I had my soldiers in the 505th grab the most prominent looters, the ringleaders, as well as the officers who refused to discipline their troops. They were drugged, impaled on long wooden stakes, and assembled by the roadside like decorations. When they awoke they began to scream, some struggled and simply exacerbated their pain. Others wept, and prayed for the gods to save them. Everywhere, people asked how this could possibly have happened, what could have possibly done this. I told the men to keep moving, the impaled soldiers were going to die sooner or later and their corpses would attract ghouls, who would be able to slow traffic on the road to our enemies. They knew then that I had done this, and that they could be next. There will be no more looting, there will be no more sacking, there will be order. By any means necessary... I can never let Serena know what I have done. She won''t understand and she won''t forgive, this I know. She¡¯s too delicate a flower, too good at inspiring loyalty through love rather than fear, she won''t be able to comprehend the necessity of this... I miss Serena. Even if I don''t deserve her.¡±

    I close the diary and place it upon my bedside table. Lazierte was struggling with her own secrets. Her own sins that she thought were unforgivable, that I would never understand. She was tortured and hurting and I just never even realized. I was too focused on my own sins to think about absolving those of others¡­

    I fall upon my bed, my head in my hands, the guilt has become paralyzing. "I''m sorry... I''m sorry. I''m sorry, Lazierte. I am so, so, so, so, sorry!"

    "... What are you sorry for, my... General?"

    I turn my head towards the voice, and find a sheepish-looking Theophania at the threshold of my tent. She''s hesitant to get any closer, but that breaks when she sees me with tears in my eyes. She rushes over to join me on instinct, before learned behavior kicks in and she fails to sit on the bed beside me. I pat a space beside me, inviting her to sit. She does... And I hug her tightly. She''s baffled, but she gently returns my embrace, still quite hesitant. Which makes sense... I have been cruel to her.

    And yet, she''s still so gentle with me, more than I could possibly deserve. "Serena... What are you sorry about? Why are you crying?"

    ... She deserves my sympathy too, my apologies. "... I''ve been selfish, Theophania. I''ve been so focused on my own sins and my own capacity for wrongdoing that I have barely spared a thought for how the people around me feel. For the sins they might be struggling with, that might need absolution... I''ve been cruel. I''ve certainly been cruel to you."

    My admission gives Theophania pause, she¡¯s having difficulty even finding a reaction to it. "You... You aren''t obligated to care about me. I know I can be a handful and a half, I know I can be... Sinful. It''s okay to feel your oath isn''t worth it anymore, in the face of actually knowing me."

    "... I want to know you, Theophania. I want to know you, sins and all. I just... I just want to look at you and see you, and not Her Majesty. I don''t deserve you if I cannot see you."

    There''s silence¡­ Theophania removes one of the ribbons from her hair, and gives me a curious look. "Do you really want to know my sins?"

    "I do. They''re a part of you, and you are important to me."

    "Very well... Put your wrists together, above your head."

    I do as she asks. It''s a bizarre request and I do not understand it, but at this point she''s owed my trust and my compliance. Slowly she takes both of my wrists in her hand, and pushes them towards the bedpost. Even more curious, almost as curious as the strange quickening of my heart. It''s so delicate a touch, but that''s not quite what excites me. And somehow, that excitement quickens as Theophania starts to tie the ribbon around my wrists, binding me to the bedpost.

    "You know, Serena... I wasn''t always destined to be a princess." Theophania''s voice is low, laced with the echo of her once-dead temperament. "When I was born, I was Theophania the Ninth, future High Queen of Avernia. And I must confess, I was enchanted. As a child I''d heard stories of the old warrior kings, and I knew I wanted to be one. Hehe, I was a menace, forcing the maids to play my little games of conquest... I''d tap them with a stick and brag about being a great conqueror."

    I can''t help but giggle, and I can''t even stifle it because my wrists are bound... Only, they aren''t bound all that well. This ribbon isn''t sufficient to actually stop me from moving. So I have to go out of my way to keep them in place, to not stifle my giggles, because it''s clearly important to Theophania that I remain in this position.

    At least Theophania sees the humor in it, giggling with me, seemingly lightening up a bit at seeing me amused. "I think they might have hated me, but you don''t say no to the future Queen! ... At least until she stops being the future Queen... When my brother was born, suddenly I wasn''t going to be the Queen any longer. I was just a ''Princess'', and Princesses don''t go about conquering things. When I''d play with the maids they''d take my stick away, and tell me that women don''t play with such things. My education changed overnight, from matters of state to matters of marriage. And I started to feel empty."

    Well now it''s hard to keep my hands in place for a new reason. I want to hold my poor Theophania, she looks like she needs it. The best I can do from my position is to place my foot delicately upon her leg, petting her inexpertly. It looks ridiculous, it feels ridiculous, but it''s the best I can do.

    She places a hand on my foot, running a thumb over the top of it, and I wonder if she knows what that means because she''s obviously not okay. "And, well, I sought out things that would fill that emptiness. And found my answer in fairy tales, stories where Princesses were worthy things, where they were important. Were properly loved. I was hooked, and I read them over and over again.

    I''d demand new ones all the time, I think I may literally have read every single one ever written at least once. The fantasy of brave and noble knights, fighting evil monsters and saving princesses was just intoxicating to me. I knew it wasn''t real, my life as a princess was nothing like those books, but it was fun to pretend... And this was fine, for a while. And then I grew up."

    "You... Grew out of the fairy tales?"

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences."No... I simply realized better what I liked about them. And I had to hide it... When I grew older, and... Y''know... I started thinking more on the romances in these stories, more on the Knights and Princesses, and started to wonder what exactly they did while the authors weren''t writing them. I had some idea that I wasn''t being told everything, and my mind raced and wandered with the possibilities. And I began to fantasize. I began to have dreams."

    ... Theophania has these kinds of dreams too? I thought I was the only one... Theophania looks guilty about it, is this her sin? ... Does everyone have these thoughts, and we''re all just too ashamed to tell one another? Is this sin normal?

    "And as I had these dreams, these fantasies, I couldn''t escape the fact that I wanted to be part of them... As the Knight. Whenever I thought about having these kinds of romances, no matter how hard I tried to think otherwise, I was the knight, ''romancing'' my loving Princess... I thought having a knight of my own would help me think of myself more as a princess, I''m not a knight and never can be, being a princess is what I''ve been told my role is. But I still dream... I still dream that I''m a knight. And... And that you''re my princess."

    I squeak, I can''t help it. This is sad, but it''s only sad because the worst, stupidest people in the world decided this was supposed to be sad. This deserves to be adorable. Adorable and uncomplicated and honestly a little flattering and maybe a little... Tempting. And all those complicated feelings come out as a confused squeak.

    Theophania seems confused for a moment by my little outburst, before giving a giggle that carries an uncertainty. "... So umm... You wanted to know my sins. That''s it really. A princess that dreams of being a knight. That dreams of rescuing you. Of umm... Romancing you..."

    I want to admit my own sins, I want to hold her and tell her that everything she said is okay with me, that I''m the same as her. That she isn''t alone, and that I don''t care what the gods think, I''ll not only forgive her sins but cherish them. But those aren''t the words that come out of my mouth.

    "Theophania... Why are my wrists bound?"

    This time it''s Theophania''s turn to squeak, and she awkwardly rubs the back of her head. "Well... I may have... Umm... I may have a little bit thought I might maybe possibly a little bit... Show you one of my dreams?"

    Oh. Oh! ... No wonder my heart was quickening... And, well, I did want to show her I cared about her, truly her and not someone else who just looks like her. I can''t imagine Her Majesty ever doing this with me, this is new. It''s... Entirely Theophania... I think I can do this! I know I want to do this.

    "... Show me... I want to know your dreams."

    "S... Serena!" Theophania''s blushing now, I think she wasn''t quite prepared for how excited I''d be for this. "... Alright! So, my beautiful, beloved, brilliant and... Beloved princess has been kidnapped by the Evil Wizard... Uhh, I didn''t dream a name for him."

    ... I didn''t expect this dream to be so elaborate, or to need so much preamble. Theophania still looks nervous, speaking quickly and looking about ready to dodge a sword stroke if she has to. The poor girl, she''s terrified... She''s never shared this with anyone before, has she? ... Or has she, and gotten a very bad reaction?

    "The Evil Wizard was a long-running foe of mine. He''d kidnapped my princess before, and poisoned the livestock of a poor village nearby. Usually he''d use his Evil Wizard Magic to escape before I could slay him, but this time I threw my sword." Theophania mimed the motion of throwing a sword like a javelin, it''s adorable. "And I pierced his heart! Which is the only way to defeat an Evil Wizard."

    I am trying my absolute hardest to not burst out laughing, her enthusiasm and energy is possibly the most human thing I have ever seen in the entire world and I want to laugh in joy. But she''s still nervous, it would probably ruin her confidence if I were to laugh, even if I was laughing with her. So I simply smile, smile really really hard.

    "Anyway, so I vanquished the Evil Wizard, and rushed over to where he had my Princess held. And, well..." Theophania takes a deep breath before this part, she''s about to cross a line. "She was tied to a bed, wrists bound to the bedpost and ankles spread with a long bar... A thing I don''t have but also I don''t know if you''d be okay with it but-"

    I spread my ankles, maybe we don''t have whatever this hypothetical bar thing is but I can at least let Theophania know that she''s okay.

    Theophania shudders upon seeing me comply, she''s utterly flustered. "And, well... She... You... Were in something of a ''state of undress'' you might say... Which, now I can''t do because I''ve tied your wrists together. Dang it, I did this whole thing in the wrong order!"

    She looks frustrated. I slip my hands out of the ribbon binding easily, and slip off my uniform jacket. Theophania looks a little annoyed with me... But this doesn''t stop her from undoing my dress'' buttons. I slip my shoulders out of the sleeves and let the dress slip down my form, forming a little pile around my waist. I''m in my undyed underthings again. I didn''t expect to be enacting some grand romantic fantasy when I had sat down to read a diary so I hardly prepared for it... Maybe I should try to always be prepared for it, maybe I should wear the purple things more often. They are quite comfy.

    Theophania is utterly taken with my half naked form, eyes darting across every little part of me, not wanting to miss a single detail. Slowly, almost reverently, she pulls my dress down my legs and off of me entirely, throwing it behind her with an unreasonably attractive recklessness. She follows that up by removing my brasserie, and looks longingly at my bare chest for a moment, almost entranced.

    "Theophania... You can touch them if you''d like." My voice is smaller than I thought it would be, perhaps this princess role is affecting me somehow.

    She looks sorely tempted, but she shakes her head, showing a great deal of restraint. "We ummm... We haven''t gotten there yet... And your wrists are unbound! They''re meant to be bound..."

    She takes the ribbon I had slipped free from, and second ribbon from her hair, and uses both to tie my wrists back to the bedpost. Apparently she''s no longer messing around... Except they''re still just ribbons, I can still slip free if I really want to. But I don''t. I want her touch, I''m yearning for it now. So I have to play along, she can apparently resist her urges until it is narratively appropriate to gratify them.

    "Okay, where were we... Finding my princess, she''s in a state of undress... Ah! I remember!" Did... Did she almost lose her place in her script? "So, naturally, being a brave and noble knight who is all upright and honorable and everything, I immediately went to untie you! But before I could, you uhh... You said ''Please... Please, my Knight. I need you to touch me!''."

    She pauses, and I''m left confused, until I realize she''s waiting for me to say my line. "... Please. Please my Knight. I need you to touch me."

    I am not much of an actress, my line reading could use some work at the best of times. Right now, wracked with tension, and desperate for Theophania''s touch, I don''t think I could have given a more wooden performance. But if Theophania was upset with me she didn''t show it, moving on without missing a beat.

    "I remember I asked you, ''where should I touch you?'', and you responded-"

    "My chest!" ... Oh no, I blurted that out loud, didn''t I?

    "... Yes actually... Did you read my dream diary?" She looks suddenly mortified, it''s too cute for words!

    But it''s not going to get her to touch me, I have to put her at ease. "No! No no no! ... I just, I''ve had these kinds of dreams before is all."

    "You have?!" Far from putting her at ease, I seem to have excited her all the further. "Tell me about them! I wanna know-"

    "One dream at a time, Theophania!" I don''t think I can stand to wait through any more scene-setting at this point. And I think most of my dreams aren¡¯t even possible to re-enact anyway.

    "Right! So ummm... You said ''My chest'' and, because I''m a brave and noble knight, and I of course do anything my princess says, I ummm... I uhhh..." There''s a moment of hesitation, before she practically throws herself at me, savaging my chest with her hands and tongue.

    And I squeal, and while I can''t wrap my arms around her to keep her close I can ensnare her with my legs... At this point I will happily take Theophania''s inexpert touch and not let her stop. But surprisingly, she''s not bad at this. Not bad at all! She could still stand to bite a little harder, and be a little less gentle with her hands, but she knows what she''s doing here... How does she know what she''s doing here?

    She slips her mouth away from my chest and looks me in the eyes, her hunger and desperation mirroring my own. "Then... Then you told me to kiss you. ''Kiss me!'' you said, just like that!"

    "... Kiss me!"

    She does so immediately, and she''s improved here too. She''s not quite amazing at it, clearly not used to it yet, but at least she''s no longer making the same mistakes. No more tongues pressing down my throat, she''s learning! ... Is she learning from someone other than me? I''d think about it more, but that would take attention away from my precious ''kissing Theophania'' time.

    Reluctantly she pulls her mouth away, and slows her hands on my chest, seemingly dealing with the weight of something. "So umm... The next thing you asked me to do is... Umm... You asked me to undress. ''Let me see your skin!'' you commanded."

    ... I want to see her skin. "Strip for me... My knight."

    Theophania makes the most confused moan of her entire life. I technically flubbed my line, but she clearly found the ab-lib to be incredibly hot. Ultimately she does as I want, undoing the buttons of her white blouse, and undoing the buttons of her trousers... Red. Red underwear, nice lace, pure sin. She clearly prepared for this... But that brasserie is obscuring my view.

    "Underwear too."

    "S... Serena?"

    "Strip!"

    I''m taking things a little further off the rails, but she does as I command and is now naked before me... She''s lost a little weight since joining the Samnian campaign, but that''s okay. She''s still utterly divine- No... She''s utterly Theophania. And Theophania is gorgeous. Curvy, soft, delicate, and smiling. Smiling for me. And dear gods, her breasts are perfect! I feel a little guilty taking in the sight, having gone off script for it... But I can''t not stare. I can''t not marvel.

    But she''s owed a little more compliance for showing me such a beautiful part of herself, I try my best to get things back on track. "I umm... What did I say next?"

    She thinks for a moment, as if trying to find her place in the script again, before her mouth simply forms a grin. "You told me to do whatever I want to you."

    Now this I am happy to say, exactly as written. "Do whatever you want to me."

    She kisses me again, closing her eyes and melting against me. I melt in turn, eyes closed, and for a moment the two of us are one being, one sensation. It''s... It''s so beautiful I want to cry... And then I feel a wet, warm something press against my leg and I am very much myself again. My incredibly yearning self. I move my thigh, rubbing it against her wetness, and I can feel her twitch above me. Her hips rock, grinding her against me. She clearly yearns as I do and is doing whatever she wants to me... She pulls her lips away from mine, and for a moment I am about to complain, until she adjusts herself atop me so her breasts are within reach of my mouth... I love her. I love her I love her I love her I love her-

    I bite, and Theophania winces. And for a brief moment I am racked with panic. Oh gods, what if I''ve hurt her, what if she wants to stop, what if I''ve ruined this? ... What if this is what ruined things with Her Majesty-

    "Again!" ... Theophania sounds so excited it cuts through my anxiety in an instant, and all I can do is obey.

    Another bite, another bite, and then a flurry of kisses. My legs rub and grind against her, my ears wait for her commands, for her desires. I wish I could use my hands, to better accommodate her wants, to better touch her... But she seems to like me doing my best while only able to touch what she allows me to touch, in the ways she makes possible. And, of course, being unable to resist her touch, like her fingers gently stroking me through my underwear... I audibly swallow, I am completely at her mercy, and I think I finally understand the appeal of the bindings. No more thinking, just pleasure. Whatever pleasure Theophania sees fit to give me.

    And she has a lot of pleasure to give me. It''s not long until I am unwound, and going by Theophania''s little scream I have to assume she''s gotten there too. She''s panting heavily, and drapes herself over my body, clearly utterly exhausted. Personally I could go for more, but I''ll let her rest... For a little bit. Let her get her breath back, then I''ll ask what else I can do for her. How else I can satisfy her wants.

    Theophania''s ragged breaths do not lessen. The exhaustion is merely replaced by sobs. She''s crying? Oh gods, oh heck, oh fuck. What did I do? What the hell did I do this time?!

    I feel a warm tear drop upon my shoulder, Theophania is shaking a little atop me. "... In the dream, this is the part where you told me that you love me. This is the part where you told me you wouldn''t go... But we went off script, didn''t we? ... I''m not owed my Princess'' love but... But I woke up and my princess was gone again, she made promises she couldn''t keep. I... I want to wake up and see you. I want to wake up and know that you love me..."

    ... I slip my wrists easily out of the bindings, and I wrap my arms around Theophania as tightly as I can. "Theophania? I love you... I''m going to stay."

    "..."

    Theophania simply continues to weep, I think she''s needed to cry like this for a very long time. She''s needed to hear this for a very long time. She''s needed me to stay for a very long time.

    She falls asleep at some point, entangled with me on the bed. I hope she has good dreams. I know she¡¯ll find me here when she wakes up.

 Chapter Sixty Two

    I just wanted to spend a little time with Lucretia. Was that so bad?

    "A wealth tax?!" Antoine''s shouting again, I''ll never get used to the sound. "How are we supposed to attract foreign investment into our new Republic if we''re going to be eroding the capital of investors? It''s absurd!"

    "A stable government is how we''ll attract them, Antoine!" Lucretia''s shouting too, despite how absurd it looks seeing such roughness come from her soft, delicate features. "I don''t know if you''ve noticed but half of La''an is currently on fire! War isn''t good for business, stability is. The New Samnian Republic has an opportunity to offer that kind of confidence so long as we can quickly establish a functioning, safe state, and that takes money. Hence, the wealth tax!"

    "Surely there are better sources of acquiring the necessary wealth beyond taking from the owning classes-"

    "There might have been if you hadn''t charged an army all over our country! Looting or no, lots of people are dead now! Medhelanon is still rebuilding, Ravenna is still scarred, and we''re currently burdened with an army too large for us to sustain after mobilizing against the Magyars!" Lucretia''s eyes catch me again, and she rather sheepishly lowers her voice. "That''s... That''s not to say your liberation of our nation was a bad thing, Signora Pollineux-"

    "Serena, please." I''m smiling, but I wish my one-twelfth wife wasn''t so formal with me. "And I marched an army all over your country too. You have every right to criticize my actions."

    "... Yes, of course... Serena." Lucretia is struggling not to grin madly, has she never called anyone by their first name before?

    I''ll need to fix that while I''m still here. "Good girl, Lucretia."

    Lucretia doesn''t pass out, she''s getting better at this whole ''wife'' thing... I wonder what makes a person like Lucretia. Someone so strong and so reliable, except when things are trying to be good to her. Then again, I don''t know what makes a person like me either, easily brainwashed and happy to kill others for my loved ones. She''s a mystery, but that just means we''re the same thing.

    Though she can hold her own when Antoine is shouting right at her, something I have difficulty even witnessing. "Three thousand men is not a particularly burdensome army!"

    "When we add the Tuscan Garrisons who decided to join us it becomes seven thousand. Seven thousand salaries, seven thousand uniforms, about a thousand horses and many thousands of muskets. Bullets, rations, powder, cannons. All of which is doing nothing for our recovering economy. How else are we supposed to pay for all that other than taking from the people who have the most to give, and exploit the benefits of it the most?!"

    Antoine thinks for a moment, before giving Lucretia a smile. "I knew I made the right choice making you the new president... Fine, institute your taxes. I think I have an idea on how to make the army useful."

    Somehow he''s almost scarier smiling than he is shouting. Lucretia meanwhile gets to writing something down, jotting little notes on a pad. She''s fast, and soon she''s looking at Antoine again with confident yet businesslike eyes. "Now, regarding the judiciary-"

    A messenger, an oddly familiar messenger, bursts through the door to our dining room turned conference room. Upon seeing me she immediately takes one of the open seats, resting her poor feet, getting her breathing back under control. Antoine looks at her with confusion, but I speak before he can question this poor messenger discipline.

    "Hello again, mademoiselle messenger... You didn''t run all the way from Alesia, did you?"

    She shakes her head, and barely manages to suppress a smile. "Rode from Alesia, sprinted from the gates of the city... The Convention requires General Pollineux to return to Avernia immediately, there are rumors of a possible royalist uprising and they request generals loyal to The Convention assemble to protect the homeland."

    Antoine looks at the messenger, and then at me, then back to the messenger. "... Which General Pollineux were they asking for?"

    The messenger looks confused, scratching the back of her head. "They didn''t specify. I assume they thought it would be obvious what they meant."

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "... Serena." Antoine looks my way rather sheepishly. "... Maybe they assume it''s obvious they meant you?"

    I blink, Antoine''s clearly being sneaky here. "Antoine, I''ve been to Alesia. Even if my profile in the media has improved somewhat, I know full well that it''s your name on everyone''s lips when they say ''General Pollineux''. They don''t want me-"

    "But they need you, sis!" And here comes the theatrics, standard Antoine playbook. "Look at how much you''ve grown since we started this campaign. I read Theophania''s report about your daring escape from the Icenians, I would never have been capable of such a brilliant-"

    He sees my grimace, and remembers in real time that he should not remind me of Lazierte''s death. That I still don''t forgive him and I still far from forgive myself.

    "... I still couldn''t beat the Magyars, Antoine. That was your doing."

    "We beat them together, sis! And these will just be rural militias, Royalist holdouts. Heck, it might be a good opportunity for you to shed any association with the monarchy-"

    He sees my clenched fist, and learns in real time that the monarchy of Alesia is something of a sore spot for me. He''s sending me to kill the followers of Her Majesty, and while he doesn''t know the full extent of what happened there, he''s picking up on the fact that it is still a raw wound.

    "I am not a servant of The Convention, Antoine. I am a servant of Alesia, and nothing more."

    He''s run out of rhetoric to fumble with me, so he resorts to getting on his knees, much to the shock of Lucretia and the messenger. "Please? ... Sis, this place still needs me. The Republic is incomplete, and I have big plans for this place. Plans that will make it one of the greatest states on the face of La''an. But I can''t be sent away in this critical moment. Please, sis. For me?"

    Lucretia looks utterly baffled, apparently grand plans to become the greatest nation in La''an weren''t precisely on her agenda... I was hoping to get more time with Lucretia, to get to know her better, to get her more used to me.

    But... "... Okay. Okay, fine. Keep Lucretia safe and I will return to Avernia in your stead."

    He quickly gets off the floor and throws his arms around me, he didn''t doubt that I would say yes for even a second. "Thank you, sis! I promise, only good things will come to your wife, and her nation!"

    "They damn well better..." I grumble under my breath... I wish I could return Antoine''s hug, but part of me still can''t quite forgive him. "I''ll let everyone know we''re moving out, we should be able to get back to Avernia before winter... Hopefully."

    "Heh, I''m sure The Convention is good for a few winter coats if you need them." Antoine withdraws from me, he can sense the awkwardness. "... I believe in you. I know you can do this."

    "Yeah yeah... I''ll figure it out." I slip away from Antoine, and cast my eyes towards a conflicted looking Lucretia. "I umm... I''d take you with me if I could."

    "I''d come with you if I wasn''t stuck being the president." She''s still standing in place, but I swear I can see her twitching.

    I decide to play a hunch, and walk over to her to embrace her, holding her tightly. "I''ll see you again. In a few months, after I''ve saved the world and you''ve built a new one. I look forward to seeing the country you build."

    She quickly hugs back, tightly at first but slowly becoming more cautious. "I''ll build you something beautiful. Something worthy of you. I promise."

    "I believe you." She''s shaking, I can feel it. "Hehe, Serena Romulus Pollineux has a fun ring to it, doesn''t it?"

    Lucretia''s entire body is wracked by her blush. It''s adorable, she clearly never thought this would work. I can''t help but kiss her, and I only wish I wasn''t kissing her goodbye¡­

    She passes out again, and I barely manage to pull her body over to one of the conference room''s chairs before she can slump to the floor... She''s going to have one hell of a month next year. I just hope I don''t kill this woman. The messenger in her chair is staring at me, herself blushing. Oh right, she needs to take a General Pollineux back to Avernia. I shouldn''t keep her waiting.

    "Mademoiselle messenger, are your feet properly rested?"

    She nods, words seem beyond her at this moment. Which is odd, since her entire job is to give people words, but I get the message either way.

    "Then I guess we''re returning to Avernia, aren''t we?"

    She nods again, and gets up. What is she so worked up about? Is it Antoine? It must be Antoine.

    Speaking of Antoine... "Make sure my wife is okay when she wakes up, okay brother?"

    "Not a problem, sis. We still have a lot to discuss about that shiny new republic she''s going to give you as a wedding band. You really are going to rule the world, one twelfth-wife at a time."

    "Ugh, don''t remind me." I chuckle, and leave with the flustered messenger in tow. I have to give everyone the bad news, that our little vacation in Samnia is over.

    It''s time to go home.

 Bonus Chapter Three

    "Hereby the Republic of Rome shall establish a judiciary independent of any religious institution, and guarantee the rights of all citizens to seek secular judgments on cases of... Ugh, it''s too vague."

    I can''t believe that pompous general foisted this constitution writing business on me! He was so excited about this new republic, even insisting on naming it for my ancestors to give the nation a ''clean start'', and now he''s just left me here! Training the new army and leaving the actual statecraft to the idiot he convinced to be president. And I can''t say no now, I can''t back out of this¡­

    Because Serena will be visiting me next year. And I need to have a country for her to visit me in.

    And Serena deserves the best country in the history of the world. She deserves the best country that will ever be! One that is not only beautiful now, but beautiful forever, never tainted by the actions of future people. So its laws must be beautiful, must be perfect, so there is no way for future presidents or politicians to ruin everything. Maybe I''m only one-twelfth married to Serena, but I will give her an eternal nation of peace and prosperity as a dowry. She deserves nothing less.

    And I can do it. I will do it! ... One boring legal paragraph at a time.

    "From its inception and in perpetuity the Republic of Rome will maintain a secular judiciary, independent of any religious institution or philosophy, which shall enforce the laws of the state-"

    "Big sis president!" I hear a banging on the door to my study, it must be The Last King of Samnia. "There''s a bird in the garden and it''s big and scary!"

    Poor Little King, she hasn''t been able to so much as look at birds since the coup. "Do you want me to scare it away?"

    "Noooo... It''s not doing anything bad... Can I come in?"

    So polite and considerate! Allowing her in is hardly going to be conducive to writing dry legal text, but she did just see something pretty scary. It was hard enough seeing the Monster of Steel as an adult, I can''t imagine what it was like for a child, especially her. Still, I probably should focus on my actual job, the entire Republic is counting on me-

    "Now now, Beatrice. We can''t be bothering the President, she has important work to do."

    That''s Beatrice''s mother, and the sigh that follows is the Little King being clearly disappointed... I get to my feet and open the door to my study, gesturing for the two of them to enter. "Come, take a seat. Maybe this whole thing will be a lot less boring with you here."

    The Little King happily runs in, and takes a spot on a chair sitting beside mine. Her mother meanwhile stays on the other side of the door, clearly uncomfortable. Odd, I had thought the invitation would make her feel welcome too.

    "You too, your Grace. You''re welcome to join us."

    I give her the best smile I can. Smiling is still a work in progress, but I think it''s going well. I just think of Serena and it makes it easy to express joy on command. Now I just have to rein it in a little¡­

    Still, she''s willing to enter my study, so it must have worked. She takes a seat on a couch, quite far away from my writing desk. I close the door and return to my desk, I still need to work even if I''m in the presence of my two charges. Being there when the Little King is scared by a bird is part of my promise to Serena, but so is making a nation.

    "Now, where was I... Secular judiciary, will enforce the laws of the state... Without the influence of Priests or godly doctrine? ... I guess that might work, but-"

    "Big Sis President, what''s a jedishy?" The Little King is looking up at me, kicking her legs off the side of the chair.

    "Uhhh... Well, a judiciary is a system of courts and judges and lawyers that prosecute..." I stop myself, the Little King looks completely lost. "... So umm, when a grown-up does something bad, someone has to tell them that they did a bad thing, and someone else has to punish them so they don''t do bad things anymore."

    "Ohhhhhh! Like a mommy!"

    "Yeah, like a mommy or a da-" I catch myself, the poor girl''s been scared enough today. "But we also need people to protect folks too, in case someone says they did a bad thing and they actually didn''t do it. I need to write this all down, so everyone remembers that everyone deserves to be protected when they didn''t do bad things, and to be punished when they do."

    "... Well why not write down that?" The Little King looks contemplative, clearly a little confused. "I don''t get the big, tricky words, but I get it when you say it like that. Won''t everyone else get it too?"

    "It''s... It''s not that simple." Gods I wish it was though. "See... I''m the president right now, I know that everyone deserves to be protected and only the guilty deserve to be punished... But what if a future president decides they want to punish good people and protect bad people? I need to make sure I write the laws very carefully, so it''s impossible for bad people in the future to do bad things."

    "How does a piece of paper stop people from doing bad things?"

    "Well... It''s the law. People have to follow the law or else they get punished too."

    "So... If there was a big piece of paper that told daddy that he couldn''t hurt everybody, he wouldn''t be able to?"

    I audibly swallow. The Little King isn''t being snarky, or snide. She almost looks hopeful, as if this constitution thing will undo the things her father did. And maybe even the things I did that killed him.

    "... Unfortunately, kings don''t follow laws like that. That''s why they''re kings, they don''t want to follow any rules. That''s why I want to be a president and not a king. Because I want to follow the rules, and make sure I don''t hurt everybody like a king does."

    "Oh..." She looks crestfallen, looking down at her feet. "And all the future presidents don''t wanna be kings?"

    "... I hope so. I really do."

    Oh gods... Hope really is all I can do, isn''t it? I can''t possibly know what the future presidents of the Republic of Rome will do with the country, no matter what laws I make. No system I build is going to make a country that can only produce good, will it?

    "... I was supposed to be a king. Before that one lady killed daddy and that big mean stupid bird. But I think I''m glad I''m not gonna be a king anymore. I don''t wanna hurt anyone."

    ... No system I build can make a country that can only produce good, but maybe the people that come after me can. "Hehe, you sound like someone who could be president one day."

    "I do?!" The Little King kicks her legs excitedly, grinning happily up at me. "You really think I could grow up to be like you, big sis president?"

    "I think you could grow up to do anything you want to." I can''t help but smile back at her, without even trying this time! "So long as you try your best."

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    "Hehe, yeah!" The Little King slips off her chair and runs over to her mother, jumping up and down with excitement. "Did you hear that, mommy? I can be president someday!"

    Her mother looks horribly uncomfortable, sneaking a worried glance my way before returning her attention to her daughter. "You know, presidents have to eat their vegetables, and go to bed on time."

    "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!" The Little King casts her eyes back at me, utterly betrayed.

    I nod, it''s strange that I have to lie to the poor girl for her own good. "I had to eat all my vegetables and go to bed on time growing up. It makes you big and strong and smart, and presidents should be all these things."

    "But you''re really short, Big Sis President!"

    "Beatrice!" The Little King''s Mother glares at the Little King, putting on a mean face. "We don''t say mean things about the President! Say you''re sorry."

    "But mooooommy, she is short!"

    "Beatrice!"

    I rub the back of my head, wanting this little scolding to end as quickly as possible. "Hehe, it''s okay though. I know I''m pretty short. But I''d be shorter if I didn''t eat my vegetables! So you better do it too, Little King. Otherwise you might grow up to be even shorter than me."

    The Little King gasps in shock, and looks back to her mother with horror. "I... I need to go eat some vegetables! Bye Mommy, Bye Big Sis President!"

    She runs off, briefly struggling with the high-up doorknob, before rushing to the kitchen in a desperate attempt to not repeat my childhood mistakes. I certainly hope she manages to avoid them... Even if she''s already lost one of her parents.

    At least she has a caring mother, even if an apparently short tempered one... And she''ll have me, trying my best to look out for her as her dad might have, if he hadn''t been a violent sociopath. Or indeed dead. I know how rough it can be to grow up without parents, and having to grow up too fast to fill their absent shoes.

    I turn my attention to The Little King''s Mother, offering her another amateur smile. "Hehe, she''s a good kid."

    "She is... Her brothers were good kids too." Her eyes are somewhere else, her words come from far away.

    "She''s lucky to have you." I try to maintain my smile, but it''s waning. "To have a good mother I mean."

    "Her brothers weren''t lucky to have me." There''s something else in the room with us that only she can see. "Heh... She''s lucky to have you. She wouldn''t even be alive if not for you."

    Admittedly the new Roman Army and the citizens of the new Roman Republic both wanted ''justice'' against the remaining family of the late King. But I promised Serena I would keep them safe, so I convinced the people and the Army to show the child and her mother clemency. She revoked all rights to the throne publically and apologized for the crimes of her father and her family line, and eventually the people allowed her to live, with the help of a few friendly newspaper articles I had commissioned. Even so, I just let them live, surely that''s not the same as being an actual parent, right?

    "Perhaps so, but without you she wouldn''t have a mother-"

    "Yes she would..." Slowly she returns to her body, and as she becomes more present her eyes become more tearful. "She''d have you. She''d have a mother worthy of her."

    ... She''s crying. I get to my feet and walk to where the Little King''s mother sat on the couch, sitting with her. I''m not sure what precisely I''m doing, or even can do, but I don''t want her to keep crying. And I''m supposed to be a competent, authoritative person, I have to be reliable here! I have to do something.

    "... Your Grace, do you really think your daughter would be better off without you?"

    "I... I don''t know... But maybe she would! I mean, I couldn''t protect her brothers, their father killed them both to summon that stupid bird! I couldn''t even protect her, that foreign conqueror had to protect us, had to get you to protect us! In the most desperate, needed time in my life, I couldn''t protect them. I couldn''t be a good mother. All I could do was stand aside in fear, and allow my children to die."

    She''s weeping... But something sounds a little off about her reasoning. She clearly believes it, it''s torturing her. But¡­

    "Your Grace. Do you think that was the time in your daughter''s life where she most needed a mother?"

    "I... What? ... Of course it was, it was life and death-"

    "My own mother died to protect me, you know. My father died leading a Samnian Army to fight off an incursion by the Turkish Empire, and when the Turks approached the city of Rome my mother assembled a militia to fight them off. She succeeded but was killed in the process. And just like that, I was an orphan. The 5 year old Duchess of The Latin Plains."

    "... She sounds like a good mother. One who could protect her children."

    "From an army, maybe. But what about after that moment, when the army was gone? After she and father were gone, my life became a lot more complicated. There were a great many people I was responsible for, a lot of things that needed to be done. The Latin Plains needed a Duchess, no matter what the circumstances. So I studied hard, I worked hard, I learned who I could trust and learned that I couldn''t really trust anyone. I had to become an adult without them there, to fill the shoes they left behind... And I think that''s when I needed a mother most. Not when the Turks were knocking down our door."

    The Little King''s mother looks confused, but also terribly concerned, reaching out a hand to touch my shoulder. I didn''t know I was shaking. Why am I shaking?

    "... I''m sorry. I''m sorry that happened to you. But, your mother did have to protect you, you''d have been killed if she did nothing. And my children died because I did nothing and-"

    "But your daughter lives. And so do you." I feel like I should push her hand off of my shoulder, but it''s nice there. "That''s my point. I can''t take away the tragedy of what happened, or even what I did to you and your family. But right now, your daughter is alive. She needs a mother. And she has you. She doesn''t have to grow up to be like me."

    "... You''re not the worst thing to grow up to be, Lucretia... You take care of Beatrice for one thing."

    I feel a warmth on my cheeks, the same kind of warmth I feel when I''m with Serena... The former Queen''s hand has drifted up to my hair, gently playing with its short locks. She''s leaning in a little closer... Did her dress always have such a low neckline?

    I try not to think about it, surely she''s just trying to be polite! "W... Well. She deserves to be a kid for a little longer, your grace-"

    "Please... Call me Bianca." ... She''s getting closer, and I can''t withdraw because her arm has snaked its way around my shoulders. "Lucretia. It''s an odd name, but I think it''s a pretty one."

    "It''s uhhh... It''s a Roman name. It''s old and niche, but my parents were sticklers for tradition-"

    "Romulus too, I think I could happily have a name like that... I think Beatrice would like it-"

    "Aaaaaaahhhh" She''s leaned in closer to me, I can feel her breath on my neck... Like I''ve dreamed Serena would do. "You''re... Getting a little close there, Your... Bianca."

    "You keep my daughter safe, you make her happy. And even if she needs me like you say she does, she does still need you... Her father was never any good to me, was never any good to any of his children. I think perhaps she could do with another parent."

    "I... I promised to protect you both already. You don''t have to-"

    "You promised some foreigner that you would protect us. I want you to promise me. I want you to swear to me that you will keep us both safe. I want you to protect us as your own family."

    "... You... You want me to-"

    "I know of your arrangement with Serena Pollineux. One month a year, is that right? ... I''m not a greedy sort, and I know you did what you did for her. That without her, you would not have saved us. So I''ll simply ask for the other eleven months, and be satisfied with almost your entire year. Does that sound reasonable?"

    Does it? I mean, I''m already married! Sort of... A bit... Then again, doesn''t Serena have her friends too? The tall one and the tired one just kissed her like it meant nothing, the vulgar skinny one practically fought me for her. She clearly has other lovers, and still she agreed to this union sight unseen. She was even happy. And, well... Even sight unseen, Bianca''s closeness is making me feel something quite akin to happiness.

    "... Serena convinced me to protect you, but if I was asked to do it again, I''d do it every time. With or without her... Being alone in this big, broken palace might just have driven me mad, it''s been... Good to have you both with me."

    "Sounds to me like we''re already a family in your mind. Why not make it official?"

    I hesitate a moment, before leaning in and kissing Bianca... And I don''t even pass out this time! Even so, I feel a little light-headed as she slips her tongue into my mouth, something that takes me completely off guard. This... This is new! Maybe Serena will-

    I feel hands playing with the buttons of my trousers, and my mind refuses to wander anywhere else anymore. I am here, I want nothing more than to keep being here.