“Are they planning to attack us here, or defend their position?” Taradira asked the scout that brought back the information.

  “My team will send another messenger when they know for sure. I was told to report on the enemy’s position immediately.”

  Frowning, Taradira looked at her map. It was smaller than the proper one she normally used, but that copy was with the rest of her army, still a day or two away. The scouting parties were pushing forward, most finding signs of retreats, others finding nothing.

  She knew the two large cities, Barakin and Galbr, were the most likely places for the enemy to gather. Barakin was further east, closer to the border, but further south. Galbr stood on the road west, closer to the heart of the empire. The scouts, however, had brought back word of forces gathering closer, in a village to the northwest. Thousands of troops camping in fields surrounding a small collection of buildings. Being unsure what to make of the move, Taradira found herself annoyed.

  There was no reason for her to attack an insignificant location like that, but the positioning was worrying. There was a catch somewhere, a trap waiting to be sprung. A bait to draw her in, a bluff to push her away? Another stalling tactic?

  Fighting defensively allowed Celngi to bring far more forces to bear - any large city would have a militia, in addition to the proper military. The small army defending Naymoor would have been only a token force to show they were defending the border at all. Taking the advance forts and the city so fast prevented them from reinforcing those positions, and so they scrambled to find a new front line. The village to the north made no sense.

  Taradira looked across the small table at Frennich. “Find out the situation in Galbr and Barakin as soon as you can. Thoms, bring Ferene here. I’m going to need her.”

  Ferene did not like the plan. However, she understood it. She was the best for acting alone.

  Taradira had explained a series of things that Ferene didn’t understand. She got the idea that Taradira was bending the rules of war to some degree, but at the same time she didn’t know why war had rules. People were just killing each other. They were trying not to be overly evil while still killing people who had not wronged them.

  It was stupid.

  Wearing the colors of Wellent, the clothes she had been given far to the north, Ferene walked towards the enemy camp. As she traveled, she thought over Taradira’s instructions. The general assured her that it would be easy for Ferene to do, yet she still worried as she walked, taking a round path to approach the small village from the north.

  Soldiers from Celngi intercepted her long before she made it there, surrounded her and took her weapons, but she successfully walked into the enemy camp all the same. Escorted into one of the buildings in the village, she met a muscular woman with long, braided brown hair, sitting at a writing desk. At Ferene’s entrance, she looked up, frowning.

  “Rather far south for a knight of Wellent. What’s your story?”

  Taradira’s words lingered in Ferene’s mind. “Are you winning?” She asked, simply.

  The woman burst out laughing. “What a question. Why should I tell you that?”

  Ferene shrugged. Her instructions were to ask the question, and come back regardless of the answer.

  “Listen, girl. If you wish to observe this war, do so from a distance. Do not interfere.” She looked to the man standing behind Ferene, holding her sword. “Take her out of the camp, return her weapons, and let her go. If she shows up again, kill her. We don’t have time for this.”

  “Ignore that order.”

  A new voice spoke out, as a man stepped out of one of the side rooms. No, not a man - Ferene saw his long, pointed ears sticking out from under his curly black hair. He grinned at her as he walked forward. He was shorter than Ferene - a part-human, like her.

  “Another Hatharen appears. Don’t you think it odd, how many of them have appeared here lately?”

  “There were reports of a red-haired Hatharen with the royal family in Wellent. She matches the-“

  “She matches the description of the red-haired Hatharen in Wellent, yes, of course. What you are not up to date on, Captain, is that said Hatharen was exiled by the queen. This is not a representative of the northern kingdoms. Slap me.”

  The woman struck him across the face, hard. He stopped moving for a moment, before turning back to Ferene, letting out a deep breath. “The famous general of Ettsgras is a Hatharen. One of the groups ambushing our supply lines may have been Hatharen, judging by reports. And this one. The eastern mountains are home to darker-skinned tribes, yet she is pale like you and I. Do you think this a coincidence, Captain?”

  “Have the mountain people allied with Ettsgras against us? You assured the emperor that-“

  “I am the Emperor’s Voice!” He yelled, suddenly rounding on her. “By insinuating that I have lied, you have insinuated that the emperor himself has lied! To the emperor himself, no less!” The captain blinked twice, unsurprised by the Hatharen’s sudden movements and change in attitude.

  “My apologies.”

  “Apology accepted. No, these are all independent actors. Maybe exiles, maybe just strangers on a journey. Yet they are working together. Someone is organizing them against the empire, but they are few in number. Perhaps they can be negotiated with, or otherwise dealt with. Slap me.”

  The captain once again struck him, and this time he took a step back from the blow before turning to Ferene once more. “You, what is your story? You have a Hatharen father, I can tell that just from looking at you.” He frowned, looking her over, then said something in what she recognized as the Hatharen tongue. “Raised by humans, too. How odd. How novel! We take this one to the capital. Give the order, Captain, we return as soon as possible.” Ferene tensed, drawing in a deep breath.

  The captain frowned. “The entire regiment?”

  “Yes! All of them! The Emperor’s Voice has spoken! Are you not loyal to the Empire, Captain?”

  The captain bowed deeply. “I will see it done.” Straightening, she pointed at Ferene. “Place-“

  Before she finished giving the order, Ferene turned on one foot as she delivered an open-handed strike to the soldier behind her. He flinched backwards as her fingers extended towards his eye, and she used the opportunity to grab her sword from him, extending her spin all the way back around, charging forward towards the captain and the strange Hatharen.

  The captain stepped forward, slapping Ferene’s sword aside with one hand, apparently prepared for this very move. Ferene swung at the woman with her other hand, but was easily deflected. She kicked out, but her leg failed to make contact, and she fell off balance, ending up on the ground. She heard the Hatharen laughing.

  Silence filled Taradira’s command post in Naymoor. Thoms stood, his entire body tense. He wasn’t looking at her, but she knew he was paying attention to her, carefully observing her. If she asked him for anything, he would see to it. Loyal was not a strong enough word to describe it.

  “She wore the colors of a neutral party.”

  “Shall we send a message to Wellent, General?”

  Taradira let out a sigh. “No. She was not an official envoy so they have no need to hear about this.”

  “Of course, General.”

  “I would say the empire is bolder than I gave them credit for, to capture her. But to retreat after doing so? The entire region is undefended. What are they doing?”

  “Do we wait, or advance?” Arnov asked from his spot at the table.

  Taradira held a hand up towards him as she turned to the man seated beside him. “Gelvain. Advance past Barakin. Delay any movements towards it.”

  He nodded, once.

  Taradira wanted to put pressure on Celngi. Yet they had responded unpredictably, doing what she knew was the wrong move. Ferene’s circumstances did not matter - taking a hostage was an act of aggression. If she informed Wellent and Olentor, Taradira could bring the northern kingdoms into the war on her side. Why would they give her that option? She didn’t want to do it - she did not need the extra soldiers, and having to split captured territory in any way would be a hassle. It did not make sense. And why retreat towards the capital? They didn’t even move to one of the larger cities in the region between the two nations. The enemy’s army simply ran, pulling the front lines backwards.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Taradira could end the war here. Claim every town and village within reach of the border, ride back to Ettsgras and tell the king she had done what he commanded. The politicians would want a proper agreement, however. That was the unsaid command. She needed to not just seize the settlements, but make Celngi acknowledge she had done so.

  To bring them to the table, she had to force their hand. Whatever they were planning, she had little choice but to make them reveal it. She wouldn’t just settle for pure numbers. Barakin was the answer. Take something that had extra value, make them respond to her.

  “Captain Coryan.” She said,

  “Yes, General?” The youngest at the table spoke up, his attention fixed on her. Young, and eager. The perfect choice.

  “Take your men and move towards Galbr. Intercept and destroy or delay and force that leaves the city - do not let them reinforce other areas. If they move to attack you directly, fall back.”

  “It will be done.”

  One of the others was leaning over the map, deep in concentration. “Gallen, your thoughts?”

  “We’re missing something.” He said, not taking his eyes off the map. A refugee from the south, he served a minor lord s an adviser, and had the most recent real experience of anyone at the table. “I don’t know what it is, but something feels wrong.”

  “Take your time. Arnov, you’ll stay here, along with Thegan and the civilians. Keep a watch on the north - I’m not fully trusting of this retreat. We can’t afford to lose our supply line here. Frennich and my forces will pursue the northern group. Gallen, prepare to march on Barakin. If the enemy’s northern army doesn’t turn to meet us, we’ll join you at Barakin.”

  Frennich frowned, tilting his head. “We’ll be outnumbered at least three to one by the northern army. What is the plan if they do turn?

  “Then we know it isn’t a retreat.”

  He stared at her, still frowning. “A force that size can’t move fast, but they have a lead on us. We can catch up and slow them down but not defeat them in open battle. If they turn with their full numbers, they’ll be wasting their time since we can fall back faster than their ability to chase. If they send only a smaller group of more mobile forces, we’ll be fighting on equal terms at worst. I want to see their priorities. Will they commit to their retreat, fighting defensively? Split their forces to prevent us from harassing them? Call our bluff and turn to fight? All their other troops are defending cities, this army is different. I need to know more about them.”

  Wrists and ankles shackled, Ferene lay on the wooden bench of the wagon. Opposite her was the Celngi commander and the Hatharen who called himself the Emperor’s Voice. He also lay on the bench, with his head in the commander’s lap. He was currently moaning softly as the woman caressed his ears.

  After her initial capture, she watched the army pack up and start moving. It was becoming a common sight. Celngi’s troops did it the same way Ettsgras’ army had. She didn’t get to see how they actually started moving, as she was forced in the wagon before being joined by the other two. Neither of them spoke for some time as the vehicle started moving, before the Hatharen placed himself in his current position.

  The commander kept her face expressionless, her eyes level, looking at the wall above Ferene. The way her hands moved suggested she had done this before. As the man moaned louder, Ferene closed her eyes, trying her best to ignore what was going on.

  A sharp scream made her open them again. She saw the blood shortly before she smelled it. Opening her eyes, she saw the commander holding a dagger in one hand, and a chunk of ear-flesh in her other. The Emperor’s voice was sitting upright, holding his hand to the side of his head, blood flowing out from his fingertips. There was more all over the commander’s legs and the wall of the wagon. Ferene felt a twinge of sympathetic pain. “Why did you do that?” He whined.

  “You raised the idea with me previously.”

  “Yes, but-no, not like that! Not in the middle of that! Do you have any idea how that felt?”

  “No.”

  “It was very painful!”

  “I thought you enjoyed pain.”

  “I was not expecting it. That’s all. Tell me next time.”

  “Would you like it back?” She said, holding his ear out to him.

  “No! Throw it away!”

  Ferene watched as he pulled a piece of cloth out of his pocket and pressed it against the stub of his ear, before his eyes met hers. “If you laugh, I’ll have her cut off both of yours.”

  Ferene said nothing.

  He made an odd sound and turned to the commander. “She doesn’t even talk back to me, Ines. Am I truly so dull?”

  “Perhaps she is simply intimidated by your presence, my lord.”

  “I’m missing an ear. There is nothing intimidating about me.”

  The commander - Ines - didn’t respond. Ferene closed her eyes again, trying to ignore the two of them.

  “What are your plans with her?” Ferene’s eyes snapped open. Ines was looking at the Hatharen, who was pouting and looking out the window.

  “You hurt me, and then want to drill me for information? I should have you executed.”

  “You won’t.” Ines said, and The Voice laughed, still not facing her.

  “The Emperor will be amused by her. He loves novelties, such as myself.”

  Ines frowned. “Does she make you less novel?”

  That caused him to turn towards her, scoffing. “Of course not. She is completely different. If anything, she shows how truly amazing I am. You, girl,” He stuck his foot out, poking Ferene’s knee. “You’re an idiot, aren’t you? All muscle, no wit, no eloquence. Isn’t that right?”

  She stared at him silently.

  “Answer or I’ll make her flay your ears.”

  “I can’t read.” Ferene answered.

  “See? A completely different novelty, a completely different set of talents. Obviously we can’t send her back into battle, but there’s other uses for her martial prowess. He could put her in an arena, make a spectacle out of her. Watch a Hatharen fight! She trained with them, you know.” He pulled her dagger out of the sheath attached to his belt. “This tells her life story. A bad thing for a spy to carry around, which is how I know she’s an idiot. I wonder how Rilya would feel to know it’s been taken from her.”

  Ferene tried to lunge across the gap between them. Before she could cross the short distance, her chains stopped her, bolted to the bench. She twisted, rolling off the edge and onto the floor, her arms and ankles lifted above her as her back hit the wooden floorboards painfully.

  “Oh, does that upset you? I can read this and you can’t, idiot. How unfair. I know what this says and you don’t! Don’t you think that’s tragic, Ines?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Imagine, for a moment, you carried a paper that told everyone how much you love me, but you don’t know exactly what it says, but everyone else does. Would you not be embarrassed?”

  “I don’t love you at all.”

  “Your words don’t hurt me nearly as much as your hands do, commander. Slap me.”

  Ferene wrapped her hands around her chains and slowly, painfully, pulled herself up, back onto her bench. She heard Ines strike him, but didn’t see it. He let out a long breath.

  “You think she loves me, don’t you, girl?” Ferene didn’t respond, laying down on her side again, looking at him as he pouted and turned back to the window. “Everyone is so cruel to me. The price I must pay for my position. It saddens me, but this is the role I have been given.”

  They all fell silent for a time, Ferene sitting upright, glaring at the other Hatharen as he held a cloth to his ear until it stopped bleeding. Ines ignored them both, until she turned to Ferene and frowned.

  “If we’re capturing her, we should at least be getting information.”

  The Voice scoffed. “We aren’t capturing her, my dear captain. We are escorting her to the emperor. We cannot mistreat our guest.”

  “She’s chained to a bench.”

  “For our protection, only.”

  “So if she asked to leave, would you let her go? Or are we keeping our guest against her will?”

  The man scowled before letting out a sigh. “Fine. You may ask her questions, but do not harm her. If you need to inflict pain on someone, I’m right here.”

  “What are Ettsgras’ goals in this war?”

  Ferene ignored her.

  “We knew before that she was from Wellent, not Ettsgras, and we established that she’s an idiot. She obviously doesn’t know that.”

  “The Hatharen strongholds. Are they prepared to mobilize southward?”

  Ferene looked at Ines, then at her other captor. He frowned. “She’s the one asking the question, don’t look at me.”

  Who was he? He knew the language, but if he had ever been to the strongholds, he’d know the answer to that question. He would have been raised in the human lands, but taught the language by his parent.

  “I don’t think she’s going to answer you, Ines.”

  “A few cuts wouldn’t leave her worse off. She’d be healed by the time we got to the capital.”

  “No, I won’t have the emperor’s guest mistreated. And I’m effectively the emperor here, aren’t I?”

  Ines let out a short breath. “Of course, Voice.”

  “Slap me.”

  At one point, the wagon stopped, her two captors leaving her alone inside. She saw the darkness of the night sky outside. Ferene examined her chains. They were bolted to the base of the wagon, which was built from heavy boards. Pulling on them didn’t show any signs of give.

  “We installed those just for you.” The voice said. Ferene turned, seeing him stepping into the wagon. “I brought you dinner. You should thank me.” He tossed a small object at her.

  She caught it. A single square piece of hardtack, softened. She bit into it, watching her captor. He pulled out a piece of dried meat, tearing it in half and eating one himself. “If you promise to answer some of Ines’ questions, I’ll let you have some sausage.”

  He could eat meat, which meant his parent wasn’t from Treventhal. He also didn’t know she couldn’t. She ate her bread in silence. He frowned at her, and ate the other half of the dried sausage. “Do you stay silent because you’re too stupid to say anything of value, or is this a strong, silent soldier act? Your general isn’t here.”

  Ines stepped into the wagon, closing the door behind her. She silently moved past the Hatharen and sat down. He followed, and the wagon started moving. “Ines, what do you think?”

  “I think she doesn’t like the fact that we chained her to a bench and you taunted her about her knife.”