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Tiqr had fallen. The Empress of Beasts, Nsiia, knelt in the dust. Her spear lay beside her. Her headband beside it. She wept, and behind her, Tiqr’s citizens, hundreds of thousands, knelt with her. Weeping for their nation.

This was how Tiqr ended. The coalition’s armies roiled in confusion, trying to process what had happened. General Thelican was red-faced with fury and shame. Not only had Tiqr not launched the attack that Wistram had all but assured him would come, he and Nerrhavia’s army had been seen to be afraid of the attack! Worse still—the one army that had refused to retreat, Illivere, led by Magus-Crafter Femithain, had been the ones the Empress of Beasts surrendered to.

Disaster. Of course, this wasn’t being broadcast to the rest of the world via [Scrying] spell. But surely, many nations were watching, being updated by their agents or via magical observation. Worse—Thelican’s stomach twisted.

The [Reporter]. The damned Remi Canada person that his [Queen] had ordered him to find. This would be in another of their articles! Now, Thelican regretted not hunting them down. But he hadn’t predicted this.

“General Thelican! A message from Queen Yisame—”

“Orders, General?”

“Queen Yisame demands to know—”

“Wistram’s Archmages are awaiting a conversation at your soonest—”

“General, our forces to the north—”

“Silence!”

The Stitch-[General] bellowed. He ignored the people surrounding him and pushed forwards.

“Get me to the front! Move the army forwards—encircle the prisoners!”

“General?”

There were hundreds of thousands of Tiqr’s citizens. They outnumbered Nerrhavia’s army. Thelican was too incensed to care.

“Surround them! Make way! Move!”

“General, Queen Yisame demands—”

“The northern—”

“Shut up!”

“We are under attack!”

The bellowing voice stopped Thelican. He whirled and saw one of the [Messengers] shoving the rest aside.

“What? From who?”

“Oliphant! The north! A part of their army sortied from the gates! General—it’s Tiqr’s army. They’re overrunning—”

Thelican’s blood ran cold in the veins of his body. For String People did have veins; the magic that animated cloth to flesh gave them biology. It also meant they could die. And suddenly, the [General] was imagining his head on a pillow before Queen Yisame.

“Deploy the chariots! Intercept them!”

—-

Of course, it was too late. Femithain heard the horns, saw chariots and riders breaking away from the coalition’s army, riding north. But he could see they’d never make it in time.

Femithain was no [Strategist], but he didn’t need to be to understand what had happened. As [Armsmaster] Dellic frantically queried Nerrhavia’s officers, Femithain heard enough.

“Tiqr’s army has broken north! They pierced the encirclement—they’re headed northwest!”

“To the Kilalle Steppes.”

Femithain nodded to himself. He looked down at Empress Nsiia. Or perhaps—simply Nsiia of Tiqr. She was a prisoner of war, now. She still knelt, but he caught her looking up, listening.

“Dellic. Have Nerrhavia’s forces any chance of catching Tiqr’s army? How many have left?”

The [Armsmaster] shook his head.

“The officers are saying it’s the entire army. And they came right out of the gates as soon as the Empress—”

He halted, staring at Nsiia. Femithain adjusted his spectacles.

“Clever.”

He had to admire it. Nsiia’s surrender had given her army time to flee. They were still nearly eighty-thousand strong, and if some of Tiqr’s citizens had gone with them—he eyed the sea of people spread out in front of Tiqr’s gates. Even had a hundred thousand fled, they would pose an insurmountable threat.

“You sent them to the Kilalle Steppes, Empress Nsiia?”

He addressed the kneeling woman. Nsiia looked up. Her eyes flashed as Dellic warily stood beside Femithain.

“My General, Vasraf, I gave him leave to do as he wished. I do not know what he plans.”

So you couldn’t be forced to betray him. Femithain’s estimation of Nsiia rose again. And it had already been high. She had calculated this. Her show before surrendering had bought her army time to flee. Thelican had pulled back his forces to protect himself; and Nsiia had chosen to surrender via the south gate, making the chase even harder.

However, that was only a small concern to Femithain at the moment. He stood, conscious of the coalition’s army reforming, centering on him. Because Tiqr had surrendered to Illivere. Not to the coalition. In the realm of politics, that was a very important distinction.

“Empress Nsiia. What do you hope to gain from your surrender?”

“Nothing. Tiqr is no more. I am no more an [Empress].”

The woman looked up at Femithain. And he realized she was young. A full decade and a half behind him, at least. Now, bereft of her rank and artifacts, she looked tired. And afraid. Femithain paused.

“You surrendered to Illivere. What if I had fled?”

“I would have surrendered to Deimos. Or Nerrhavia. Never to Savere. Do what you will, Magus-Crafter. We are your prisoners.”

The Magus-Crafter nodded slowly. Nsiia was looking at him. And he knew she remembered the warning he had tried to give her at Pomle. He leaned on his staff. Thelican would be coming. And Illivere, for all its strength, was one nation among many. Savere was powerful. And Nerrhavia overwhelming.

Still. He looked at Nsiia.

“You chose me, though. Why?”

Nsiia shrugged. She was looking at Dellic. The [Armsmaster] was watching her, balanced on his heels, ready to unsheathe his sword and strike.

“You tried to warn me. And Illivere has few slaves. I…hoped you would give Tiqr some dignity.”

“That is difficult.”

Nsiia nodded. She looked up. There were no illusions in her eyes. Her nation was defeated. And the defeated were treated harshly. In Chandrar, very harshly. Femithain looked at her. And then he nodded.

“You made a choice, Empress of Beasts. The King of Destruction gave you no death. But your surrender will see your nation picked apart. And your fate is also in my hands, it seems. So know this: you chose well.”

She looked up. Femithain smiled. Then he turned. The Magus-Crafter thought of himself as a poor fighter. A mediocre [Mage]; he was a far better [Crafter], a creator of Golems. But he was also Magus-Crafter of Illivere. And he had to admit—he was somewhat good at his job.

“Armsmaster Dellic.”

“Magus-Crafter!”

The man vibrated to attention. Femithain nodded to Nsiia.

“Arrest the Empress of Beasts. Take her headband and the spear; I wish her guarded by Stone Golems and eight [Artificers] as well as sixty of your best.”

“At once, Magus-Crafter!”

Dellic hesitated only for a moment before stooping to snatch the spear and headband up. Nsiia rose to her feet; he backed away a step. She held her hands up and to her sides.

“I have surrendered. Do what you will.”

She was looking at Femithain. Dellic barked an order.

“Stone Golems! [Artificers] of Stone, to me! Cetith Squadron, to me!”

Startled, Illivere’s army moved around Dellic and Nsiia. Femithain nodded, seeing Stone Golems stomping towards Nsiia. They held stone mauls and even Nerrhavia’s advancing [Soldiers] looked wary of them. In fact, Illivere’s army forced the other armies to move around them, awkwardly trying to surround Tiqr’s citizens.

Femithain’s studied the commotion. It was all chaos, but he wasn’t looking for the whole picture. It was all in the details. Like faults in stone. He needed—

“There.”

Femithain spotted a familiar face in the crowd. He pointed and strode forwards; his twin Steel Golems strode forwards, forcing a path through the [Soldiers]. The Magus-Crafter walked towards them, making a straight line for the man in armor leading his [Soldiers].

Objective. Femithain’s mind was a tidy series of thoughts. Empress Nsiia had surrendered to him. She hoped he would help Tiqr. However, her surrender placed undue pressure on his nation. Femithain weighed Illivere’s future against Nsiia’s wishes, saw a path. All that was left was to achieve it. And that was simple, in a way—or at least, Femithain saw it as so. He had a finite number of options he could pursue, and so he tackled them one at a time.

“General Heic!”

The Magus-Crafter intercepted the [General] of Deimos through the ranks of confused [Soldiers]. Heic looked up and shouted for his men to make way. Femithain left his Golem bodyguards behind and the two paused, shouting amid the commotion.

“Magus-Crafter! Dead gods! Did I hear right? Tiqr’s surrendered to Illivere?”

Heic was astounded. Femithain nodded and grabbed the man’s shoulder. No time to subtleties.

“Exactly so, General Heic! Let us discuss this later. However, General Thelican is approaching with the other coalition leaders.”

It was true. Thelican was making for Femithain and Nsiia, and he wasn’t the only one. [Bandit Lady] Urele was trying to do the same, flanked by her elites. Other [Generals] were approaching—Femithain looked at Heic.

“Of course. We’ll have to decide what’s to be done. Surrendered? I thought for certain we’d be facing Tiqr in the field. Their army’s fleeing to the north. We have to catch them, but with such a lead—”

Heic was spluttering. Femithain shook him slightly. Surprised, the [General] looked at him.

“General Heic. I would like you to support Illivere’s claims in these next moments. In fact, I believe it will be to Deimos’ benefit. Will you heed my request?”

The man blinked at him. Femithain waited. It was a gamble, but he had been acquainted with Heic over the course of the war. He saw the man’s eyes sharpen. Heic wasn’t a fool. And to Femithain’s satisfaction, the man nodded after only eight seconds of indecision.

“Of course!”

“Femithain!”

Thelican’s voice rang through the air. The [General]’s escort cleared the [Soldiers] in front of them; their weapons were drawn. They only halted in front of Illivere’s army; Dellic and the ranks of Golems refused to budge. Magus-Crafter Femithain and General Heic strode towards Thelican. The Stitch-[General] was apoplectic.

“Magus-Crafter, you—er—congratulations! On accepting Tiqr’s surrender on behalf of the coalition!”

You had to admire his ability to improvise. Femithain regarded Thelican over the rim of his spectacles. The [General] was looking for Empress Nsiia. He spotted her in the ranks of Illivere’s army and gestured.

“Wonderful work! We shall take the Empress and discuss matters. Men!”

He nodded to his Nerrhavian elites. The silk [Soldiers] strode forwards and then hastily stopped when the first rank of Golems and Illivere’s [Soldiers] lifted their arms. Thelican hesitated and turned towards Femithain. The Magus-Crafter cleared his throat.

“General Thelican, my pardons for the zeal of my army. I ordered my soldiers to hold the Empress.”

“Oh, of course. Well, if they’ll move aside—”

“I would prefer to do so at a later time. It would be a blow to the coalition if Tiqr’s [Empress] and army were to escape.”

“Escape? Here?”

Thelican did a double-take, looking around and then darkly towards Nsiia. The [Empress] glanced at him, and returned to watching Femithain. The Magus-Crafter stepped forwards. Thelican hurried over; more [Generals] were appearing and they were all seeing Illivere’s army holding the Empress.

The Stitch-[General] was red-faced, but Femithain was still very, very careful. Thelican commanded a vast army and Nerrhavia’s leadership may be pompous, but they were still very good at and willing to kill if need be.

“There’s no way she could escape. Magus-Crafter, I’d be grateful if your men would release her—my [Queen] would like to speak to you. We can sort this out later, eh?”

“And I would be glad to, General Thelican. However, if her people were to see her collared, or perhaps, attacked, they might well revolt, surrender or not.”

Thelican shot a glance at the citizens kneeling in the dust. He hesitated, but Femithain knew he would insist. Which was why Savere’s [Bandit Lady] was such a pleasant and calculated interruption.

“Make way! Move, rot your hides! Where’s the [Empress]? She’s Savere’s prisoner! Move or we’ll run you rotted maggots down!”

A group of cavalry were riding through the army, quite literally doing what they’d threatened. [Soldiers] moved out of the way of the horses and Lady Urele, Savere’s commander, rode straight for Illivere’s army. She turned to find Nsiia, and Thelican whirled on her.

“Commander Urele! Return to your position.”

“Shut up silk boy! You—Magus-whatever! Where’s the [Empress]? She’s our prisoner, got it? Anyone who objects can answer to the Siren!”

Urele rode around in a dangerous circle. She had a horsewhip and she unstrung it now, cracking the air and forcing everyone around her back. She spotted Nsiia among the Golems at last.

“There! Grab her!”

“The Empress of Beasts is a prisoner of Queen Yisame!”

Thelican roared, but it was too late. Some of Savere’s riders leapt from their saddles and swept towards Nsiia. The Golems moved, raising their warhammers. Like Nerrhavia’s best, Savere’s most infamous hesitated. They might be high-level, but there was something about a giant stone Golem lifting a hammer over your head that made even the bravest think about their life choices.

Lady Urele whirled on Femithain.

“You! Mage-boy! Order your Golems to stand aside before my people dice them!”

“Lady Urele—”

Femithain began, but General Thelican leapt in. Now he was purple with fury.

“Soldiers! Form a wall between the Empress and Savere’s irregulars! She is Nerrhavian property!”

The Saverian [Rogues] moved back warily as the silk-cloth warriors stepped forwards, brandishing their curved blades. Femithain heard a mocking call as one warrior slashed out, making a [Rogue] leap back and swear at him. Urele stared at Thelican.

“Move your handkerchiefs, Thelican.”

The Stitch-[General]’s face darkened.

“Remove yourself, Commander Urele, before my army removes you.”

The two commanders stared at each other, their soldiers tense, on edge. The air was sparking, and more armies were still converging. Another [Commander] rode forwards—Femithain recognized Lady Yucale of Lamult.

“What’s going on here? Is the battle over? We’ve yet to take the city!”

She was clearly out of the loop, or else regarded the battle as only ‘won’ when someone planted a flag in a conquered city. She caught sight of the standoff and hesitated.

“Move aside for Xern’s [Strategist]! I said, move aside! Is anyone listening?”

Another leader, the [Strategist] of Xern, forced to dismount and fight through the press of bodies on foot. Femithain was counting heads. Seven, eight…nearly all the coalition’s leaders were nearby, or in earshot. Thelican was bellowing at all of them to listen to him! Urele was looking around, and some of her people were slipping to the sides, trying to find a way through Dellic’s circle around Nsiia.

And at that moment, General Heic proved why he was a [General] of Deimos. He looked at Femithain, checked his own army, mixed with all the others in this scrum, and then raised his arm and bellowed.

“Deimos salutes Illivere’s splendid triumph over the Empress of Beasts!”

His voice rang over the others, a product of a [Loud Voice] Skill or truly prodigious lungs. Femithain saw Urele and Thelican both look around, along with Xern’s [Strategist], Lady Yucale, and all the others. Heic bellowed again.

“Illivere has accepted Tiqr’s surrender! The war is over! Huzzah!”

“No, it was a coalition led—”

Thelican’s voice was drowned out by a roar from around him. Heic turned and shouted at his [Soldiers].

“Applause!”

Deimos’ army began applauding, and cheering the end of the battle. That was enough. The tired [Soldiers], most of whom did not care who had accepted whose surrender so long as they didn’t have to fight another hyena or elephant, began cheering as well. Soon, they were shouting.

“Il-li-vere! Il-li-vere!”

Femithain listened, bemused, but also grateful. He saw Heic turn his head and the [General] gave him the most unsecretive wink Femithain had ever seen. Then Thelican was bearing down on Femithain.

“Magus-Crafter—”

Femithain beat him to it. The Magus-Crafter clicked his fingers and his two Golems moved aside. He turned—and Thelican was walking by his side.

“General Thelican, let us speak freely. Lady Yucale, my apologies. Yes, the war is over. Thelican, may we converse?”

“Of course! I—this is a bit of a disaster—[Strategists]! No one gets near the Empress! Surround, er, Illivere’s formation!”

“Xern’s [Strategist] does not obey orders from—”

“I was speaking to my [Strategists]!”

Thelican roared back. He whirled and Femithain knew it was time. The Magus-Crafter took a breath. He was conscious of Lady Yucale hovering on their left, Urele trying to bully her way to Nsiia as she glared at him, and all the other messengers, officers, and high-ranking leaders around him, listening in. He wove a quick [Bubble of Silence] spell, but he had no doubt it would be penetrated.

And Thelican was turning towards him, and Femithain knew one thing: there were at least two dozen truth spells aimed at him. So he told the truth. That was the first thing you had to learn to survive events like these.

“Magus-Crafter. This surrender business.”

Femithain gave Thelican an apologetic smile.

“Unexpected.”

Thelican looked relieved.

“Yes! Certainly! Those damn Archmages—er—my information was terribly flawed! We were ready for an attack, and then Tiqr just rolls over? But why did the Empress of Beasts surrender to you?”

Femithain paused, and he chose his words carefully.

“The Empress of Tiqr’s surrender was a pleasant surprise. However, I believe Illivere’s terms of surrender are most palatable to her.”

Especially because he hadn’t offered her any. But Thelican’s eyes widened.

“Queen Yisame made her offer, and I know the Siren laid out her terms. But Illivere…?”

Femithain waved off the specifics.

“Illivere wishes an acceptable end to the war, General Thelican. I can promise you that I offered the Empress nothing that would trouble the coalition.”

“But her surrender to you—the Empress is a valuable prisoner, Magus-Crafter. I can see those Saverian dogs sniffing around her formation—let me pull up two battalions and we’ll escort Nsiia to our camp.”

Femithain shook his head.

“General Thelican, I am well aware of the exigencies of Queen Yisame’s requests. For now, however, let us discuss the division of Tiqr’s assets.”

“Of which the Empress of Beasts is non-negotiable—”

“Illivere is, of course, prepared to back Nerrhavia’s claim to Oliphant and its citizens. As well as Nerrhavia’s strong claim towards occupation of the bulk of Tiqr’s territory.”

Thelican paused. He looked at Femithain.

“Occupation? What are you talking about?”

The Magus-Crafter raised his eyebrows.

“Nerrhavia intends to occupy Oliphant, does it not? Tiqr’s citizens may be difficult to return to their settlements at first, but if Oliphant is repopulated by at least three hundred thousand, that should leave many able to return to their lives across the nation. We can hope more refugees will return in time as well.”

“What? What are you talking about, man? These are all…”

Thelican broke off, staring past Femithain at the sea of Tiqr’s citizens. Femithain raised an eyebrow.

“General Thelican, I do not believe even Roshal is inclined to house and feed hundreds of thousands of [Slaves] at such short notice. Let alone the cost of transport and training? They would never make it to Roshal.”

“True! There are far too many even with prisoner trains. Dead gods, but we’d have to feed them. I imagine Roshal would pay to send their own scouting for likely slaves, but—the coalition can divide them up. Savere’s ships will take tens of thousands, I have no doubt.”

Femithain frowned.

“Unless of course you returned them to Tiqr.”

“Why would we do that?”

The Magus-Crafter gave Thelican a long look. The [General] flushed, sensing Femithain’s confusion.

“A slave-state, General Thelican. Isn’t that the most effective solution to the issue?”

The [General] paused. Then his eyes lit up.

“You mean, an occupied country?”

“You can hardly sell all the slaves. Savere’s fleets would fail to move even a fifth of this many people and Nerrhavia would spend as much as it earned to broker a mass-sale. The Slavers of Roshal would hardly offer as much for regular citizens. A slave-state on the other hand…”

It was a practice familiar to Chandrarian nations. A subservient nation that was effectively a vassal of a larger one, forced to supply almost all of its goods to its ruler, who usually kept a large garrison within the country to ensure a happy and continuing relationship. It was also of particular note to Thelican and Nerrhavia. The [General] frowned darkly.

“Nerrhavia was a slave-state, Magus-Crafter.”

Femithain nodded.

“A subservient region, then. I very much doubt Nerrhavia’s citizens are inclined to move to Tiqr without encouragement. On the other hand, Tiqr is rich in land.”

Thelican rubbed his jaw. He was calming down, now, and he was starting to think about more than his reputation and Yisame’s fury. He glanced towards the city in the distance, and then the dam his army had built.

“A military presence would be required, but Oliphant does have a river. And it’s agriculturally rich. Dead gods, but you’re right. Here, but that’s a discussion for after…”

He paused and looked at Femithain. The Magus-Crafter nodded.

“Illivere would naturally support Nerrhavia’s claim. Its armies have made the greatest contributions to the war.”

“Really? To Oliphant and—how much of Tiqr?”

Thelican was interested. New land, even for a nation as large as Nerrhavia, was tempting to a [General], who might well get a large cut of the pie. Femithain nodded.

“Shall we discuss the matter? Naturally, each member of the coalition will require a share.”

“And a percentage of the population. You’re right! That would be simple. But the Empress?”

Thelican was glancing at Femithain suspiciously. The Magus-Crafter lifted his shoulders.

“May we discuss the matter? Let me explain my position, General Thelican. The Empress of Beast’s surrender was a fortunate accident. However, her capture…it is a matter of politics, General Thelican. Do you recall that I am elected as Magus-Crafter on a yearly basis.”

“Ah, yes. By your…er, democracy?”

Thelican fumbled for the words. Femithain nodded. Urele was now fighting her way towards him.

“Of a sort, General Thelican. But my support is based on my accomplishments. The Empress of Beasts would be an asset. I would consider it a personal favor, of course, were you to intercede on Illivere’s behalf with Queen Yisame.”

“But Queen Yisame…”

Troubled, Thelican glanced back towards the waiting [Messengers]. Femithain coughed.

“Without Nerrhavia’s support, I believe I would be forced to cede Empress Nsiia’s captivity. Perhaps to Nerrhavia, but I imagine Savere will wish to force the issue.”

And it’s a long way to Nerrhavia. Both men thought of Saverian raids and the issue of transporting a prisoner that far. Thelican shuddered, but he persisted.

“Magus-Crafter Femithain, you and your army have done me any number of services. But this is a matter of Nerrhavian pride. How would it look if the Empress of Beasts were not taken as Nerrhavia’s prisoner?”

“Fairly innocuous, General Thelican? It would be a personal gesture of friendship.”

Thelican hesitated.

“I couldn’t persuade you to give her up? I would consider that a token of friendship myself.”

The laughter from the Magus-Crafter surprised Thelican. Femithain smiled at the Stitch-[General] and shook his head.

“General Thelican, greed does not become you. Would you have Illivere support Nerrhavia’s claim to Oliphant and the division of Tiqr’s lands and cede the Empress of Beasts?”

The [General] was left tongue-tied. He looked at Femithain, back at the Empress, and Femithain could see him weighing his options. What decided Thelican in the end was Oliphant. It was a beautiful city and it had not been taken by war. The [General] eyed it, and Femithain could practically see the Stitch-Man thinking.

It would need a [General] to garrison it. And it could be quite wealthy if Tiqr’s citizens got back to work. Someone who owned that city and the land around it? They were practically a [Prince]. What was that to a prisoner who would please only one [Queen]? Slowly, Thelican turned back to Femithain and nodded.

“Queen Yisame is quite insistent, Magus-Crafter. But even she cannot wish for Dragons, eh?”

“Very true, General.”

“Let’s…discuss the issue. Yes, indeed. Allow me a moment to converse with my [Queen]?”

Thelican didn’t wait for a response. He was already hurrying towards his primary [Mage], and Femithain saw him moving his lips, composing a [Message]. The Magus-Crafter turned—

And a hand latched onto one arm. Urele glared at Femithain.

“You. Magus-Crafter. The Siren wants a word.”

Femithain saw one of his bodyguard Golems raise his sword. He raised a hand and Urele warily let go. He nodded towards her. This was the second challenge. If Thelican could be persuaded to convince Yisame, the same wasn’t true of Urele. Femithain didn’t know her, and even if he had, he was quite aware that the only person who could sway the Siren was Revine herself.

—-

“Magus-Crafter! What’s this rot I hear about Illivere taking the Empress of Beasts prisoner? Give her to Urele. Now.”

The Siren of Savere was not a pleasant person to converse with when angry. She didn’t converse so much as bark orders. Magus-Crafter Femithain pursed his lips as he spoke into the enchanted conch shell that Urele had given him.

“Queen Revine, the matter is not so simple.”

“No? Urele tells me Illivere’s army holds the Empress. I will have that bitch collared and sent to me. Unless you want to challenge Savere over it?”

The voice snapped back. Femithain stared at the conch and then at Urele. The [Bandit Lady] was listening, staring between Femithain and the artifact. Femithain sighed. The first thing you had to do with Revine was—

“Queen Revine. Are you aware of Queen Yisame’s claim on Empress Nsiia?”

The voice on the other end of the conch went silent. Then Revine’s voice came back, a lot calmer, quieter, and decidedly more worrying.

“Magus-Crafter. Are you planning on turning over the Empress of Beasts to Nerrhavia? I would take that as an insult.”

There it was. The Siren of Savere could be a raging tempest, but when she was truly angry, she went quiet. Femithain paused, and saw Urele shift. She had daggers sewn into her armor. But he met her gaze levelly as he replied.

“Queen Revine, let me be frank. General Thelican has expressed Nerrhavia’s desire to have the Empress of Beasts in no uncertain terms. Were I to forfeit her capture, I have no doubt they might force the issue, and Illivere is ill-capable of resisting such a demand.”

Revine paused. Femithain continued.

“If Savere is willing to press the issue, I will have no option but to cede Empress Nsiia’s capture. I would prefer not to, but I have no inclination to cross Nerrhavia. I trust you understand my situation?”

The perfect truth. Femithain fancied he heard grinding teeth on the other end.

“Magus-Crafter. Give the shell to Urele. Urele.”

Femithain passed the conch to Urele, and saw the [Bandit Lady] raise it to one ear. She grimaced, whispered urgently into the shell—it was her turn to turn away to muffle the conversation. But Femithain believed he understood that the Siren was asking for Urele to spell out just how likely Savere was to win an altercation with Nerrhavia.

The cursing coming from the conch confirmed Femithain’s theory as Urele passed the conch back. Femithain heard Revine’s voice on the other end, still cold and deliberate.

”Who’s getting the Empress of Beasts, then? Illivere?”

“General Thelican may agree to that. He is concerned with the distribution of Tiqr’s land more than the Empress’ capture, I believe.”

The tone of Revine’s voice darkened audibly.

“He wants Tiqr? Oliphant is Savere’s. I’ll deal with him after this. Fine. Keep the Empress for now. But hear me, Magus-Crafter. I want her. When everything’s quiet, you’ll hear from me. We’ll discuss our terms then.”

“As you wish.”

Femithain lowered the conch. He handed it back to Urele. The [Bandit Lady] gave him an odd look.

“The Queen’s letting you have the Empress? Fancy free, that’s unusual. She doesn’t like giving her toys away to anyone. We’ll talk to you later, Magus-man.”

Femithain decided not to dignify that with a response. He let Urele talk into the conch and walked back. Thelican was waiting for him, and as Urele strode towards them, a second meeting commenced. This time in Thelican’s personal tent, although no one was lounging about. The Stitch-General was pointing down to a map of Tiqr as he led the conversation.

Xern’s [Strategist], General Heic, Lady Yucale, all of them were in hot debate over what was to be done with Tiqr. They would have gotten around to the idea of dividing Tiqr up in time; one look at the army of citizens told anyone with sense that they weren’t going to be easy prisoners. Thelican was speaking loudly.

“Oliphant will be occupied by Nerrhavia’s army. We will discuss a more formal division of Tiqr—”

“Oliphant? That’s ours! And we’re taking those prisoners. Slaves.”

Urele snapped at Thelican. The Stitch-[General] turned and stared down at her.

“The citizens of Tiqr are, by the grace of her Majesty Yisame, now Nerrhavian citizens. Second-class.”

“What?”

The word burst from half a dozen mouths. Xern’s [Strategist] was foaming at the mouth.

“Xern has an equal claim to Tiqr’s citizens! If we are dividing land—”

“Illivere will cede our claim to Oliphant.”

Femithain’s cool voice made the other leaders look to him. Thelican turned with a smile and Heic raised his brows. Femithain nodded, meeting every eye.

“Generals, commanders, a more formal arrangement may be struck by our nation’s respective leaders at a later date. But in the interest of time, we must reach a settlement now. Thus, as Illivere has claimed the Empress of Beasts, we will be content to cede our claim on Tiqr’s lands, save for a moderate expansion along our borders.”

That pleased everyone in the room. One less claim? And aside from a disappointed few who might have wanted to claim the Empress of Beasts, no one, most importantly Thelican and Urele, objected to that either. Femithain went on.

“Tiqr’s divisions of lands will require at least a majority agreement by the members of the coalition. I propose to leave each nation a proportionate amount of land to their contributions. For instance, Deimos’ borders could naturally expand to the Reic River; it does run through their borders. Which would create a natural border with Nerrhavian territory around—”

“Xern claims the Reen Plains!”

“That’s not up for debate! Reen borders Lamult—”

“Oliphant belongs to Savere!”

Urele slammed a fist down on the table. Thelican glared at her, and then looked around at the other leaders.

“Savere will be content with an expansion on the southern borders, surely? It would be greedy of Savere to demand the entire southern and central regions of Tiqr!”

Most of the other leaders nodded. Urele stared around, and then narrowed her eyes at Thelican.

“You want to take it, silk-boy? That’s Savere’s spoils!”

The Saverian [Bandit Lady] glared daggers at Nerrhavia’s [General]. Outraged, Thelican raised his own voice. Femithain carefully watched, seeing the shift in the currents.

Savere was an unpopular nation, for all that the Siren of Tides and their alliances with [Pirates] and [Bandits] the world over gave them the strength. Urele was outmatched, and aside from supporting Heic’s claim to the Reic River and Thelican’s to Oliphant when it came to a vote, Thelican had little else to say.

[Bandit Lady] Urele stormed out of Thelican’s tent after two hours of hot debate, hurling oaths and promising that this wasn’t over. But Thelican was already moving Nerrhavia’s army into Oliphant along with a bulk of the citizens, and the rest of the coalition’s army was preparing to break up.

Femithain found Armsmaster Dellic almost exactly where he’d left him. Illivere’s army was still guarding Nsiia. Dellic sprang to his feet when he saw the Magus-Crafter approaching.

“Magus-Crafter. May I ask what’s happening?”

“Tiqr’s division is more or less complete. The coalition has agreed on a temporary set of new borders. Nerrhavia will leave a large garrison at Oliphant—Illivere’s army will return home.”

Femithain’s news provoked a cheer from the living army. Nsiia raised her head from between the Golems standing watch over her. Femithain saw Dellic looking towards her as well.

“And the Empress?”

“A captive of Illivere.”

Dellic inhaled. Femithain waited.

“Objections, Armsmaster?”

The man took his time in replying.

“…Is this Illivere’s reward for its contributions in the war, Magus-Crafter? If Nerrhavia has Oliphant…”

Femithain shook his head.

“Illivere does not need land, Armsmaster. Far better to sacrifice soil for friendship; our Golems provide our workforce in any case. As for the Empress of Beasts—she is a political prisoner. That is my determination and I will explain myself before the Head Artificers if necessary.”

“Yes, Magus-Crafter.”

Dellic might have had more reservations, but he didn’t voice them, which was a merciful change. Femithain ordered Illivere’s army to prepare for the return march. As he was discussing the guard on Nsiia—Femithain was most wary of Savere, despite Revine’s agreement—General Heic came riding towards him. The man looked rather pleased as he dismounted to shake Femithain’s hand.

“Well done, Magus-Crafter! Not a bad day’s work, eh? A battle avoided—a shame, I’d have liked to level up. But that was some smooth diplomacy if ever I’ve seen it!”

“You’re too kind, General Heic. I merely reached a compromise.”

Heic gave Femithain a sharp look.

“Did you? I rather think it went the way you wanted, Magus-Crafter. I can’t believe Nerrhavia and Savere both gave up on the Empress. The way their [Queens] were going—but they’re more interested in pissing on each other than Illivere.”

Femithain saw Dellic shake his head.

“Crudely put, General Heic, but perhaps. Have I contented Deimos as well?”

The [General] chuckled.

“Give us the Reic river and I think my [King] will be content, Femithain. Better Nerrhavia to have Oliphant than Savere; I’d hate to share a border with them. Their raids are bad enough. Congratulations, then! You have the Empress of Beasts. I can’t fault you on that, for all I’m jealous! A fine addition to a seraglio.”

His voice reached Nsiia from where she stood. She turned and regarded Heic; the [General] stared back, before laughing and clapping Femithain on the shoulder.

“You might need to watch yourself in the bedroom, though, Magus-Crafter! Or call for one of Roshal’s trainers. In any case, I’m proud to have marched with Illivere! No [King] took to the field—or [Queen], save for the Siren, but you were there start to finish! I’d call on you in Illivere, once this is all settled down.”

Femithain smiled.

“I should look forwards to it, General Heic. And I will extend an invitation when time permits.”

He held out a hand. He did like Heic in his own way, and Thelican his. Femithain would have to seek him out as well to thank him for his efforts. Funny, how you could like someone and detest parts of them at the same time. But then, people were so complicated compared to Golems. Heic bade Femithain farewell as he rode with Deimos’ army.

That left only Dellic, Femithain, and Nsiia. Femithain walked through the watchful Golems.

“Empress Nsiia?”

“I am only Nsiia, now. It seems that [General] was right, Magus-Crafter. You are good at what you do.”

Nsiia watched Femithain curiously. The Magus-Crafter inclined his head.

“One tries, Empress Nsiia. Let me assure you that you are a guest of Illivere. I would not wish to anger the King of Destruction.”

She blinked slowly at him. She was like a caged hyena, Femithain thought. Intelligent—capable of reason—but like a hyena, never truly a pet. You couldn’t tame them, only feed them, or leash them. She bared her teeth.

“Do you have any true allies, Femithain of Illivere?”

He calmly met her eyes.

“Illivere survives, Empress. We choose the best course of action as we can. That is a Golem’s logic. I fear it makes poor people of us.”

Nsiia shook her head. She stared at him, and then sagged. She bowed her head as she leaned against one of the stone Golems, staring at Femithain. After a while, she spoke up.

“Do you even have a harem, Magus-Crafter?”

Femithain paused.

“I will have someone provide a proper label on the guest rooms. Perhaps a sign.”

Nsiia stared at Femithain. Then she laughed, surprised at his joke. She laughed and laughed—and then choked on the laughter. But she didn’t sob. She just sat down and bowed her head. Behind her, Nerrhavia’s army swept into Tiqr. Its citizens, some of them, returned to their homes, only to find them looted by the Hemp-[Soldiers].

Some didn’t return home; they were taken by the armies of other nations, captives to become [Slaves], or to work their lands and occupations again, but as citizens of another nation. Femithain saw it all as he stood with his Golems, listening to Dellic give orders. He saw Nsiia’s bowed head, the trickling tears down her cheeks.

He left her to her grief. Tiqr was still fallen. She was a prisoner. And her people were subjects. Or slaves. Femithain shook his head. No, there was little for Nsiia to laugh about. And as Femithain walked back to congratulate Thelican again and pledge to visit him in Nerrhavia when time allowed, he reflected that while he had done Nsiia some small mercies, she would never thank him for it.

Femithain was not a good man. He knew that for a fact.

—-

So, Tiqr fell. It happened with words, and negotiations and a lot of confusion near the end, but that was how it always went. Anyone who’d ever conquered anything knew it wasn’t a simple process. And in truth, when the dust had settled, the facts were fairly straightforward.

Tiqr had fallen. The Empress of Beasts had been captured, alive, and the nation divided by its conquerors. Some of the citizens of Tiqr were now subjects of another land, or slaves, or simply fled. Tiqr had been erased, and that was that.

Oh—and an army had escaped the capital in the confusion. General Vasraf had declared that he would never cede Tiqr to invaders and had sworn to liberate his home with the rest of Tiqr’s army and nearly a hundred thousand of Tiqr’s citizens. They’d fled to the Kilalle Steppes, too quickly for the coalition to pursue in the aftermath of Tiqr’s surrender.

They’d be a problem and a big one if they weren’t rooted out. There was nothing like angry people deprived of their home to ferment insurrection. And on that note, Tiqr was divided, but the land was hardly as simple as an expansion of every nation’s borders.

Nerrhavia alone had claimed Oliphant, and so it had now expanded out of its natural borders. It would have to maintain a standing army in the region, which would alarm the other nations who would have to do likewise to maintain order and watch each other.

All of that was enough to provoke a heated discussion by anyone who had interests in the region, or just Chandrar in general. It was messy, and would throw a Creler into the politics of the nations around Tiqr—and it was already politics.

That wasn’t what had nations of the world in an uproar, though. No. In fact, Tiqr’s defeat had actually been overshadowed by the scandal that occurred as Tiqr was surrendering. Femithain had been completely oblivious to it, along with everyone who was actually at Tiqr.

It was the worldwide announcement that Wistram had put out from the Mage’s Guilds. As people were waiting for the news of the siege on Oliphant to come through, a highest-priority [Message] had come blasting out of every Mage’s Guild! It was a denouncement of the King of Destruction allying with Tiqr to destroy the Nerrhavian-led coalition! He had broken his vow of peace if not in practice, than in spirit! Wistram condemned the warmongering action by Reim—

Er…

For about, oh, ten minutes, the news had been echoing. The King of Destruction had allied with Tiqr! Except even that didn’t convey the alarm.

THE KING OF DESTRUCTION HAS ALLIED WITH TIQR; THE COALITION ARMIES COULD BE WIPED OUT. THE DREAMERS OF REIM ARE MARCHING. ALL BETS ARE OFF. PANIC. And even then, it could have used italics.

For ten minutes, everyone was waiting to see who’d declare on Reim. No—would Tiqr win? How had it happened?

Then had come a very subdued message from the Mage’s Guilds. No, wait, cancel the last declaration. Reim had not, uh, allied with Tiqr. The [Message] had been in error, and Wistram had falsely reported the information supplied to them without proper verification. The academy regretted the mistake—Tiqr had in fact, fallen, without the King of Destruction’s support, surrendering to Illivere.

“Mistake?”

Niers Astoragon, the Titan of Baleros, second-in-command of the Forgotten Wing Company, etc. etc., had nearly laughed himself off his podium in the classroom. To be fair, it was as much outrage as hilarity; the nervous titter running through his class was an echo of the emotions that had to be running through the other nations in the world.

“This is a disaster! Wistram just announced Reim went to war when it didn’t? How could those idiots let that happen?”

The students in Niers’ special class were all nodding. Wistram was the backbone of Mage’s Guilds, a reliable source of, well information. This was beyond scandalous! The fact that Wil Kallinad, normally one of the most reserved members of Niers’ class when it came to voicing his opinions had said it was a sign of how bad it was. Venaz was staring down at the map of Oliphant in disbelief. He looked up sharply, breaking away from the simulation Niers’ class had been running of the battle.

“They must have been spying. How else would they have known it?”

“What? Venaz, are you snorting Dancepetals?”

Marian the Centauress turned and gave Venaz the fisheye. But Niers pulled himself upright and waved at Venaz.

“No, continue that thought, Venaz.”

The Minotaur nodded. He pointed at the [Message] spells frantically appearing on the scroll Niers had ordered spread on the table where all the students were sitting. It was attuned to hold sets of [Messages] addressed to it; normally few spells reached this scroll as they would have to be broadcast the world over, like general alerts. Right now ink was appearing and disappearing as the [Messages] popped off faster than anyone could read them. Venaz glared at the map of Oliphant as he spoke.

“Professor, I’ve heard rumors that Wistram was able to spy through scrying orbs. They announced the King of Destruction was allying himself with the Empress of Beasts before she even left Oliphant’s gates, if the timing on this is right. They had to have been spying in some way to have believed—falsely—that they were going to ally? How else would they have assumed this?”

“They wouldn’t do that. Wistram doesn’t spy, surely!”

A shocked voice from one of the newer students. Niers shook his head sadly and the older students sighed. The Fraerling addressed the young man.

“Always expect the enemy to do what benefits them, Reniz. Never mind the ethics of it. And I’d say Venaz is right. Or at the very least, Wistram believed some very bad information.”

He shook his head, steading himself.

“This was clearly a bad mistake among Wistram’s [Mages]. A false statement broadcast the world over?”

“Beyond scandalous. Their credibility is ruined. What if they had announced the Iron Vanguard had launched an attack on a city owned by Maelstrom’s Howling? Or a Terandrian kingdom had attacked another? They could have started a war!”

Cameral, the Dullahan, looked truly upset. Some of the other students were nodding. Umina, Marian, Venaz, Cameral, Wil—all were some degree of angry at Wistram’s mistake. On the other hand, Yerranola, the Selphid, and Feshi, the Gnoll, both looked as amused as Niers.

The Titan chuckled as he read some of the [Messages] being shot through the Mage’s Guilds. Rulers the world over were expressing their fury at the false news in no uncertain terms. He waved at one of the [Servants] attending the lesson.

“Copy these down, would you? I want to save them for later reading.”

He didn’t wait for the nod, but instead stomped on the desk for his class’ attention. Niers waited for silence, and then spoke in a level voice.

“We’ll be discussing what measures you would take as a [Strategist] after learning about this mistake by Wistram. And this was a test—I imagine a number of [Strategists] are going to be questioning every [Message] that comes through Wistram, or expanding their own information networks. If you were advising a nation’s ruler, especially in Chandrar, this is a situation where you wouldn’t want to be caught off-guard by bad information. But for now let’s focus on what we do know. Tiqr has fallen.”

He students looked up and nodded. Order returned as Niers pointed at the map of Tiqr.

“Get rid of the siege map. We’ll revisit it and see if they could have won with the King of Destruction’s Skills later. For now, let’s analyze the situation, class. What have the coalition gained from this war? My view is that their gains are almost outweighed by their losses. Thoughts?”

Niers would have been happy to hear a dissenting voice, but everyone agreed with him, which wasn’t bad. Umina, the Lizardgirl, gave her analysis, speaking over the others as they debated the issue.

“Tiqr’s army is still intact and worse, led by Tiqr’s [General]. He has to have leveled up from the war and if he strikes from the Kilalle Steppes, the coalition will have to watch their backs for years unless they’re able to hunt them down. And that would mean angering Kilalle’s Garuda tribes—”

“Never a good idea. Remember Peki, from the officer classes? I once ate her sandwich and she still has it out for me. She holds a grudge forever. Almost as bad as Drakes, like Kissilt.”

Marian shook her head, her mane of hair nearly whipping Feshi in the face. Across the table, Kissilt looked up at her.

“Go eat your tail, Marian! You still owe me fifteen silver!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Children, please!”

Niers smiled. He restored order again and got each student’s take—assuming they had something new to add. His class were discussing what actions they expected each nation to take, reviewing it against the facts—Niers was quite interested to see that Empress Nsiia was Illivere’s captive.

“Always consider the ruler. Feshi, you have a thought?”

“Hrr. Femithain is cunning. And he backs whoever the wind favors. He’s not taking much land—do you notice? He must suspect holding onto Tiqr will be as much trouble as conquering it. I think it is a wise move. If the people of Tiqr are like Gnolls, they will strike again and again rather than let these new nations take their home.”

Niers nodded approvingly as he glanced out a window.

“Suitably grounded in historical precedent. Time will tell. Ah, but look at the sun! We’re already out of time. We’ll pick up our analysis of the battle tomorrow, and see what the political fallout is! Your homework? Be prepared to offer me the best way to defeat the coalition’s army with a force like the Dreamers of Reim, and conversely, how to defeat the Dreamers! Bonus points to anyone who can cite me examples of when they’ve lost and how it was done!”

His students began packing up their things, or writing down notes. Niers saw them glancing at him and smiled.

“And Umina and Wil—”

The classroom froze. The Lizardgirl and [Lord] looked up, suddenly alert. Was today the day? The students held their breath, waiting. The Titan’s eyes twinkled. And at last, he nodded to them.

“You two look tired. Get some proper sleep!”

The room exhaled as one. Umina and Wil sagged as Niers merrily strode to the Fraerling-ways that would lead him through his citadel and to his quarters. Venaz silently patted Wil on the shoulder. Marian exhaled as she walked next to Umina.

“It’s been weeks! He’s just teasing us. He does it every class.”

“It’s not just mean, it’s sadistic.”

Cameral agreed, locking his head into place on his shoulders. He looked sympathetic; everyone in the classroom had been expecting Niers to summon Wil and Umina to let them ask their question, the one question he’d answer truthfully! But he hadn’t, and it had been over a month.

“It’s like getting a wish from a Jinn. I knew it was too good to be true.”

Yerranola exclaimed as the older students moved out of the class. Feshi turned her head to stare at the Selphid.

“A Jinn?”

“I think that’s what they’re called. They live on Chandrar. I was doing research and apparently they’re one of the dead species. You know, like harpies?”

“Oh. What’s this about a wish?”

“Legend has it that you could get them to grant you wishes. Except, you know, they’re always bad, or they don’t get fulfilled the way you think.”

“Typical. But the Professor isn’t nearly so dishonorable. This is clearly another one of his pranks. Or—a lesson! He wouldn’t withhold the question once you’ve won it!”

Venaz snorted. By now, the other students had reconciled themselves to Umina and Wil’s victory, at least outwardly. Marian nodded. Umina just clutched at her midriff.

“My stomach hurts. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to ask the question when it finally happens. I mean—”

She looked at Wil. He was staring ahead. After a moment, he glanced up.

“I wonder how this affects the King of Destruction. Tiqr was an ally—but it makes sense not to have supported it. It’s too far away and it clearly couldn’t hold. It’s a thorn in the conquering nation’s sides now, but that’s still one less ally. I’m going to do some research. Anyone joining me?”

“Wil! We were talking about the question!”

“I’m not thinking about it. Or else I’ll panic wondering how long I have to wait.”

The young man compressed his lips. The other students nodded; that was wise. After a moment, a voice spoke up from the back.

“Hey Marian.”

The Centauress turned and saw Kissilt, the surly Drake walking with them. He normally didn’t keep company with them given Umina’s presence. The Drake looked straight at Marian.

“What? Anything wrong, Kissilt?”

“Yeah. Marian, give me my damn money!”

—-

They said Femithain was cunning. A pragmatic leader who moved his country to best suit it. And of course, they said the Titan was a genius, one of the greatest—perhaps the­ greatest [Strategists] in the world. And that was probably true. But here’s a question ‘they’ sometimes forgot to ask.

How great was ‘greatest’? If you were the world’s best, were you the best the world had ever seen? Ever? In the entire history of the world, from start to finish, was Niers Astoragon the, definitively best, undisputed champion of [Strategists]?

No. Of course not! History was a far crueler measure than ‘now’. And ‘they’ deserved the same contempt. ‘They’ had memories that barely extended to childhood and only inaccurate and often biased accounts of history to rely on. And history was written not only by the victors, but often, by people who hadn’t actually been there. Could you really trust a [Historian] to do their job right? A [Writer] to lay out the facts without bias?

Of course not. Today was always better than yesterday. Or the past was always good because it was old and thus nostalgic. The future was ever waiting and people were stupid because they forgot. Niers Astoragon might be among the best [Strategists] today. But was he the best in a hundred years? What about three hundred? Three thousand? Did he even rank on the top 100 list of best [Strategists] this millennia?

The Quarass of Germina knew the answer. Or at least, she had a better chance of answering a question like that than almost anyone in this world. Because she remembered. She had lived and died lifetimes upon lifetimes, and she could remember the best of the best. They’d all died like the rest, but she could measure and recall.

That was her power. That was what made the Quarass of Germina dangerous, powerful. That was what made her ruler of Germina, protector of Ger, one of the four Shield Kingdoms of Chandrar. And she remembered why Germina was a Shield Kingdom. She was the Quarass, and she had died mere months ago. But the Quarass lives.

The Quarass lives. And now she sat in Reim, in a castle that she could remember being built oh, fifteen hundred years ago. Well, it had been just a keep then; it had only achieved the current form around eight hundred years back, give or take, after a number of renovations and three sackings. And it was even different now, thanks to the efforts of Drevish, the [Architect], one of the King’s Seven.

He had been gifted. The Quarass had known any number of [Architects] and talented builders and planners of wonders over her many lives. Even so, she ranked Drevish as in her top twenty. Probably even top ten. She took points off because she disliked his personality. Or at least, the other Quarass had.

She remembered it. A woman who feared the King of Destruction, enough to risk everything to kill him. She had spoken with the Emperor of Sands, listened to his words over the warnings in her head. The Quarass could remember her death. She remembered her last scream, choking, trying to flee. And the face of her death. Red-gold hair. And a sword.

It was a memory a second old. A lifetime past. But it still disconcerted her. For now that same person sat in front of her. Flos of Reim, Flos Reimarch, the King of Destruction, her death, was listening. Rain had been falling, but it had stopped at last. Now, the water dripped from the eaves of his palace. He raised his head and spoke quietly.

“Alive?”

“Yes. So I am told.”

The Quarass spoke of Tiqr, of the events she had heard through her own sources. Tiqr had fallen. Empress Nsiia lived. Flos nodded, his shoulders relaxing.

“I am relieved. I have heard of Illivere and their Magus-Crafter. In passing. The man seems capable. And Nsiia may well…”

He trailed off. He did not look happy, for all the news was a relief. The Quarass studied him.

They were an odd pair. He was far older than her, still physically fit and showing little signs of his age, but nevertheless past his prime when he had terrified the world. And she? She was a girl. Barely thirteen. Nevertheless, they were rulers.

And he still mourned. Empress Nsiia, one of his companions of old had survived. That relieved the King of Destruction, clearly. But he bowed his head. Tiqr had still fallen. Flos Reimarch stared past the Quarass. She searched her memories for a time she had seen him thus. A few times. He had looked far worse when he had entered into his slumber.

Hundreds of lifetimes were hers to call upon. She could remember countless faces like the King of Destruction’s, people of every species in their triumphs and despair. She could remember it—and it gave her an insight. The King of Destruction was far from broken. But he was genuinely grieving. That was valuable to know, so the child took the information, trying to use it and her memories to guide her forwards.

That was the Quarass of Germina. Old and young. She was ancient beyond almost any other being in this world. But it was still a child who held the memories, who made the decisions. Thus, each Quarass was different. Some had been wise, others cunning. Some had been cowards, or simply shortsighted. The Quarass could remember them all, how they had thought, and how their own memories had led Germina to success or despair.

That gave her power, for all she was but a girl. Germina took its strength from her. Their famed [Assassins] used techniques she recalled perfectly; no books were needed or had ever been written. The poisons were ones she had designed in lifetimes gone.

She had more power too. Knowledge of classes. Levels. Skills, and secret advancements. That was true power. She could turn her subjects into what best suited them. Her [Highborn], one of the three protectors who had sworn to serve her by blood, Vaitsha, had already begun her change. The Quarass had told her how to change her class—[Highborn of Coin], a weak class, into a rare and deadly one.

The process was not easy, but if Vaitsha had the will, she would become as beautiful and as deadly as the serpents in whose fangs ran Germina’s venom.

However, all that power came with a flaw. The Quarass could see that the world held patterns that repeated themselves. People leveled, acted in certain predictable ways. But the problem was that while things happened the same way, they never, ever happened exactly the same way twice.

The previous Quarass had been a foolish woman. Overly vain, bitter at kneeling to Flos Reimarch. She had never deserved her position to begin with; she had poisoned her mother and taken the throne, only to realize too late what being the Quarass meant. It meant knowing her mother’s contempt for her and the bitterness of her own death. It had broken her. The new Quarass did not wish to end the way of the old.

Tread cautiously, then. The King of Destruction was like many men the Quarasses had met—even been. The current Quarass could remember being a man in a number of her lives. And that was an odd experience. But she had to admit, Flos of Reim wasn’t a simple bull you could anticipate. Parts of him were straightforward beyond belief. But other things made little sense.

“King Reimarch.”

He looked up. And straightened, remembering her presence. Flos gave the Quarass a weary smile and reached for a cup.

“Quarass. My apologies. You have caught me unguarded. I confess, the news of Tiqr weighed heavily on my mind. It is done. Let us speak of the present. I have kept you waiting.”

She inclined her head. His words were without guile.

“I understand, King Reimarch. Then, the reason for my visit.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Ah, yes. A discussion of Germina’s future. I have wondered when this conversation would occur.”

“We are allies of Reim. So I have pledged. I would ask you, now, King of Destruction, whether that means serving under Reim, or as true allies of old. And I would know more of your reasons for your return.”

“Ah. The reason for my awakening.”

Flos nodded. He watched the Quarass, now like…his eyes were hard to read. No, not like some bear of a ruler, all straightforward and bullish. Not completely. The Quarass shifted. She had wondered herself what her future held. Now, Flos paused.

“Quarass, I have no plans on erasing Germina. Nor will I put you in danger or threaten your life. I swore by the Shield Kingdoms, by Germina’s soil and Ger’s Oasis to shed my blood before yours. I swore it by Reim, Quarass. I do not forswear that oath.”

That was true. The Quarass wanted to relax, but her memories kept her wary, for all she saw he was telling the truth.

“Nevertheless, Reim may endanger Germina by its ambitions. And we are allies.”

A question. Flos nodded absently.

“Yes. We are, Quarass. But I am aware that the Quarass does what is best for Germina. To endure is your nation’s purpose. I would rather we march in step, but we will see what your choice is.”

He turned his head and the Quarass had an unpleasant sensation as the King of Destruction looked straight through her. After all, he had met her previous incarnations—two of them. He had experience with her. She cursed her predecessor, but kept none of it on her face.

“I cannot swear Germina will follow Reim entirely into the abyss, King Reimarch. But I am not my predecessor.”

Flos studied her and nodded slowly.

“No, you are certainly not. And I am content with sharing my plans with you, Quarass. My ambitions and reason for awakening, at least. I believe the Quarass of Germina is too knowledgeable to act rashly regardless of the situation.”

And because Germina could burn so easily if Reim turned against it. But both knew that went without saying. It was hard for the Quarass to betray Flos Reimarch. She and her kingdom had too much to lose. The Quarass was glad Flos thought the same way. It meant he would trust her. He waved a hand towards the window.

“Before we begin, however—I may have to attend to my second issue of state. You recall the army at my border?”

“Of course. Khelt.”

The army of twenty thousand. The Quarass could well recall what that ‘issue’ was. Flos nodded.

“Khelt. King Fetohep has deigned to send me a message of his displeasure. Mars and Gazi are handling him, but I have no intention of being pressured by Fetohep’s demands.”

“Ah. What does Fetohep will?”

She’d guessed that was the case. The Quarass moved her hand, drank from the cup of water she’d asked for. Wine was a poor drink to converse with in these matters. And she was far too young. Dead gods, but she hated remembering how good it tasted. It was very hard to be an alcoholic in hundreds of lifetimes and sober now.

Flos made a face as he drank from his cup. It wasn’t even great wine, but still—the Quarass resisted the urge to watch.

“At a guess? A vow of non-interference. Pledged in blood, most likely. He senses Reim’s weakness. I’m not inclined to give him what he desires, but you know Khelt.”

She nodded sourly, drinking the nourishing water. Flos went on, wiping his mouth carelessly.

“I would rather have Khelt’s aid, if not their alliance yet. But I believe I would negotiate poorly with Fetohep. He and I do not get along.”

They did not. The Quarass’ memories flickered. Fetohep and the King of Destruction nearly coming to war at a dinner hosted in Khelt’s palace. She sensed an opportunity and jumped on it.

“King Reimarch. If Fetohep’s will is not appeased, he will not cease.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I was thinking of marching an army over his border, but that might provoke him.”

Flos grimaced. The Quarass leaned forwards, keeping her voice neutral to hide her eagerness, but it was hard.

“I could intercede with Fetohep. He has a longstanding connection to Germina.”

“Hm. You would do that for Reim?”

Flos looked pleasantly surprised. The Quarass sat back, carefully.

“We are allies. It would be a small effort. However…if you will tell me what reason you have for awakening from your slumber, I will agree to it. And what makes your two aides, Teres, and Trey, so valuable.”

Her eyes flicked to Flos’ face as he paused. That was the information the Quarass craved. The reason for the King of Destruction’s return? Invaluable in understanding him and in other ways. And his strange followers, the twins? The girl that had been present when he had first met her? Every instinct in the Quarass told her they were important too.

Flos of Reim paused, considering the Quarass’ request for a moment. She held her breath, wondering if she’d been too straightforward with her demands. But he was a straightforward man. She wasn’t prepared for him to grin and nod.

“Of course! I happily agree! You do me a great service, Quarass. Let us speak then, of my return!”

He smiled, laughing, and she stared at his face. Wait. Her memories kicked her in the head. He’d wanted her to ask and volunteer her aid with Khelt and Fetohep. He was going to tell her anyways and she’d—

The Quarass kept a blush from staining her cheeks, but only just. She reached for her cup and drank the stupid water. For a second she was a child again, scowling, realizing she’d fallen into his trap. Flos Reimarch smiled and lifted his cup.

“Ah, Quarass. We are allies. And I think you will agree. But trust is so hard to hold, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

She muttered, thinking of lifetimes of betrayal. Flos raised his cup and she hers. They clinked quietly and she studied him again. Flos nodded as he drank.

“Well, let us try. You are not the old Quarass. And I liked the first one I met. She was a grand woman.”

“Yes. She was. Flawed, but I will attempt to surpass her. Yet that depends on you. On Reim. Tell me, King of Destruction. Why did you return?”

Flos sat back. He sighed, and the Quarass saw him as a young boy, bowing beside his parents and staring up at her on her throne. She saw him as a man, leading an army past her borders and asking where Germina stood—against Reim or for it. And then, sword in hand, her death.

Then and now. The Quarass waited. At last, Flos looked up.

“Quarass, my return stems from the two you mentioned. The twins, Trey and Teres. You are correct. They have worth far beyond your imagining.”

“Ah.”

She drank in his words, greedily. Flos Reimarch nodded. And then his eyes twinkled.

“I wonder, Quarass. You who have lived countless lives surely imagine any number of reasons why I would return. Why the twins would matter to me. You who know so much, listen. Trey and Teres are unique because of their origin. They come from another world. Tell me, Quarass. In all your lifetimes, have you ever heard of that?”

The child, the Quarass, blinked. She stared at Flos. First she stared for the signs of a lie. Then for madness. And then her mind assessed his words. Weighing. Recalling. She stared at him, unblinking. And then, with the best, most expressionless face she had, she sat back. She reached for her cup and stopped before her hand knocked it over.

The Quarass of Germina looked at Flos Reimarch, the King of Destruction. After a moment of thought, she slowly shook her head.

“No. Tell me more.”