“Lord master!” Derrek cried, rushing into the grand pavilion. Sir Elliot was alone, hovering over a table in the far corner, surveying a map spread across. Derrek reported, breathlessly, “The faery men are gathering, just as you warned. Captain Dace has rallied them. They have dire intentions, I believe.”

  Elliot grumbled, “dire intentions, you believe.”

  “Aye, lord master. I believe he intends to mutiny.”

  The lord master gave a small nod before calmly and very neatly rolling the table map and sliding it aside. Donning his silvery cape again, he uttered, sullenly, “Then I have one more task this night.”

  As Elliot veered to the entrance, Derrek scrambled to Elliot’s scabbard and sword. But when the boy offered it to the lord master, Elliot brushed it away, saying, “That cannot aid me, squire.” Unarmed, and his cape flapping on his back, Elliot Lampeer marched into the uncertain night.

  At the faery man encampment, soldiers over a thousand, bearing small signs of green, crowded near a large bonfire. Circling the flames, sword to his hip, was Captain Leon Dace. “Brothers.” He addressed the soldiers. “Noble men of the south. We have been robbed. Our lands Taken. Our queen murdered. And… enslaved.” Seeing the soldiers nodding, Leon breathed more fire into his words. “But they still want more. They wish to annihilate our souls. If we let those children die, we shall share the blame. Our souls will be condemned with them. And it won’t be the end—I tell you now it will never end. Our oaths were to serve the legion but never to slay the innocent. No. Never. We won’t endure that.” He repeated, loudly, “NO!”

  A rumble of noes came from the soldiers.

  “You have heard them say our debt will be paid come the silver moon. So, when is that? The mages and the daughters all say different. The truth is a silver moon does not obey the calculations of men. It’s all a lie… a story. Brothers, we were brought to heel by a wild promise—a trick to make us the north kingdom’s executioners…” And then Leon seethed, “and a plaything for the arch-mage.”

  Leon slid his sword from his scabbard. “Here’s what I say, it’s better to be free men, as we once were, riding through the night in the woods of Greeneyes, marching across the groves of Pennytrees, roaming the river wilds without fear, and crying the name of our queen—THE TRUE QUEEN—to the holy sky.” He thrust his sword upward. “Queen Elisa!”

  “Queen Elisa! Queen Elisa! Queen Elisa!” roared through the camp.

  “We outnumber them. Ours are more than half the entire legion. No one can defy us. And if any dare…” He grinned, stroking his goatee. “Heh. Woe to them.”

  Yet, a timid voice rose, “But captain, the arch-mage will hunt us all.”

  Captain Dace scolded him. “Are you so afraid, boy?”

  Shamed, the young soldier wouldn’t answer and lowered his head. But there was a gleam of fear over many faces Leon could see. He knew the nightmares the mages could summon were fixed in their minds. “Have heart, sons of the south,” cried Leon Dace, “and remember whence you came. It was our ancestors who overthrew the tyranny of the mages many eons ago. Remember, it was lord Rhienell, himself, first guard of the green circle, who slew the mad wizard and took his head. There is no magic we must fear.” An emerald hue faintly glowed in the faery captain’s eyes. “We see through their works and know their ways. The arch-mage’s power is illusionary.”

  The camp stood heartened for a moment before another voice spoke, “And I ask you, captain in the legion, are you so certain?”

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  Leon turned. Walking into the light of the fire was Sir Elliot in his silvery cape billowing in the wind. A hush fell and the faery men ruffled about, whispering to each other. The lord master then added, “for your men’s sake at least.”

  Leon whipped his sword arm around, pointing the blade toward Elliot. “Sir Elliot,” Leon said, slowly stepping towards him. “Have you come to remind me of my duty? You forget, our men do not serve heartlessly. We love, not kneel.” He eyed Elliot meaningfully down his blade.

  “You swore to honor your oath,” said Elliot. “And so your men.”

  “I’ll kill no children—not for any oath. Much less for the arch-mage’s little pet, the girl he dresses in silks and jewels, the one you call queen.”

  With Leon closing in, Elliot stared down the steel of Leon’s sword with his cool blue-grey eyes. He said, “I can’t appeal to your sense of duty, faery man, I know this. But remember who it was that begged at the queen’s feet for you and your men. I swore for your conduct.”

  “I know who you are,” said Leon.

  “Then follow me,” pleaded Elliot. “Forget the queen. Forget the damn mage haunting the capitol’s halls. And I will take you and your men to the day of the silver moon. I swear to you.”

  A glint of fire danced from the steel to the faery man’s eyes. Leon pushed the sword’s point near Elliot’s throat. But the lord master did not budge, flinch, or even waver, or seemingly have any thought about the sharp tip at his neck. Elliot stood as a statue with his eyes fixed on the faery captain. Elliot only offered, grimly, “Or kill me… and let your kinsmen’s final days begin.”

  A moment passed between them before inevitably the glimmer in Leon’s eyes faded and he lowered his sword. Leon slowly sunk down.

  Elliot asked, “Are you still a captain in the legion?”

  “Aye,” answered Leon, glumly.

  “And who is master of the legion?”

  Leon Dace stabbed his sword in the dirt and fell to a knee. “You, Sir Elliot.”

  The lord master then announced to the soldiers, “Take him to his tent and see that he stays there until daybreak.”

  As the faery men began to hustle, Elliot laid his hand on the kneeling captain’s shoulder, and with a kind voice, Elliot said to him, “I will need you.”

  Soldiers helped Leon Dace to his feet and escorted him away.

  After Leon was gone, Elliot addressed the soldiers at the bonfire. “The war is over,” he said, soberly. “The kingdom is one again. The oaths you took in front of me and the queen are your only chance for redemption. Oaths are unbreakable, or they mean nothing at all. And I remind you, that many of you, your brothers, and your kinsmen, are afflicted with wanderlust. It’s from the queen’s grace you receive the honeywax you need to ward it off. Without it, you will succumb and die. You have only one way forward—let there be no doubt—as soldiers in the legion marching to the silver moon.”

  As Elliot watched the faery men slowly break, he sensed in their faces a lingering hint of rile and uncertainty. But after the crowd finally parted, he spotted a shrouded figure in the near distance, standing at the edge of the bonfire’s light. Joanne was waiting. Elliot marched towards her. And without her even saying a word, Elliot stated, “No more than two cups per man.”

  Joanne nodded. “It will be done, lord master.”

  Captain Dace’s pavilion was modest, at least compared to the lord master’s. The inside smelled of woody incense and wildflowers. Leon was sulking on a couch lain with furs, his head hanging low, when a slender man with long shady-brown hair appeared in his tent and spoke to Leon, “Well, that was clever. He now knows you may mutiny.”

  Leon looked up with a pitiful face. “He’s always known that. He just doesn’t fear it.”

  “Ah yes,” the man said, “our fearless lord master, who stares down great wolves and demons. I love those songs. It makes the legion sound so much more menacing, does it not?” The slender man sauntered closer, casually toying with the emerald-tipped hilt of the dagger on his belt. “But perhaps, dear captain,” said the man, “our brave lord master is only a fool. As men of honor… as knights tend to be.”

  Leon sharply eyed him. “Watch your tongue, Darryion.”

  Darryion lowered himself and faced Leon, eye to eye. “Do you really trust him?” He asked, sincerely.

  Leon stroked his goatee to a fine point and smiled. “Heh. He’s the only man I do.” With that said, Leon slumped down again. “Fetch me wine,” Leon demanded, “let me drink myself to sleep.”

  “Ah, but first…” Darryion carefully unwrapped a sticky cloth filled with an orange gooey wax. “Have you had yours today?”

  Leon shook his head. “No. I know not where I put it.”

  “Ah, then please share mine.” Darryion offered it in his hands.

  Leon merely stared at it. The shine in the faery captain’s eyes was gone and a forlorn gloom pervaded over his face. Yet, Darryion pushed it toward him. “My captain… please… let’s ride one more day.”

  Reluctantly, Leon Dace pinched a clump and ate it.