There were three things Sizilen was certain of. First, that despite the King’s ambition and planning, Embrayya was woefully unprepared for the campaign into Outworld-- or rather, Earth, as the man called Miles Brady had called it.

Second, that the idea that the people of Earth were needlessly cruel and wicked was little more than a time-worn legend with little to no connection to reality.

And third, that despite lacking the connection to the Elder Law deemed so vital on Ayndir, they had control over the forces of nature in a way that even her father could never have dreamed of.

Lights that flicker on and off in as little time as it takes to blink. Tablets that showed images of whatever its user wished to see. Boxes that spoke in the same voice as the speaker despite them being in different places. Carriages that ran under their own power. Machines that soared through the air that could outmaneuver even the famed Empyrean Riders of Embrayya. Weapons that spat metal faster and she suspected farther than an arrow could ever hope to fly.

She suspected what she’d witnessed thus far was barely scratching the surface of the achievements of the people of Earth.

Despite her best attempts, she could not identify anything even slightly approaching a demon since she’d arrived there. Even the one she mistook for a demon, she had to concede, was probably little more than a man using the weapons and tools of their world.

Which caused her to question herself. Her father was always telling tales of Outworld. About Vaste’lon and Oshun, the Betrayer. Every tale he told of the place painted a primal world, filled with death and murder and cruelty.

But since she’d seen it with her own eyes, she’d seen little evidence of that.

Thousands of years had passed, however, since the history of Vaste’lon had faded into the legend of Vaste’lon. It was entirely possible that the people of Earth had done away with their cruel beginnings.

It was also entirely possible that the legends only told shades of the truth. It was said that the stories that survived the rise and fall of empires would belong to the victors.

The Earth people were not as she’d been expected. Not as they’d been told. They were kind, even to those who sought death against them. Any nation on Ayndir would not have taken prisoners in response to such an assault on their people, and yet not only was she taken captive, but she was treated well, fed, clothed and allowed to leave her cell.

Not that her cell was bad, either. It was better than most of the lodgings she’d ever had despite the lack of a window or fresh air.

That morning, when her door had opened to the Earther in the strange suit of shiny material appeared, she didn’t know what to think. No part of his body had been exposed to the air, and for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why. She could see his face, but even that was guarded behind a clear sheet of the same shiny material he wore on the rest of his body. It seemed awkward to move around in.

But he didn’t seem interested in harming her. Inside, he stood outside her cell and gestured for her to follow. Sizilen hesitated for a moment, but even her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to see what he wanted, despite the nagging sense of self-preservation she harboured deep inside.

He’d led her past a row of cells. In some, she saw darkness. In others, light. And in one, she saw a face she recognized.

She knew him to be a Wolf Rider. He’d been associated somehow with Rost, but she’d never spoken with him despite seeing him in passing in both their camp in Embrayya and on Earth. Dree was his name.

He locked eyes with her as she passed by his cell, being led away to the strange room where she’d met Miles Brady. She looked back at him. Then he scowled at her.

Miles Brady and the dark-skinned woman, Kia, spent most of their time attempting to communicate. They seemed particularly interested in how to count in the Embrayyan tongue, taking special care to go over numbers more than once before moving on to basic greetings and phrases.

Sizilen took to it rather easily. She could already speak the Western Sea tongue, as well as High Caydean and could even understand some of the Demonic tongues used within the Wasted Hordes. Their language, English, had a strange structure, and some words were difficult to pronounce, but she felt she was picking it up quickly.

The Earther Miles Brady seemed to have a vested interest in learning Embrayyan as well.

After their meeting, Sizilen spent much of her time going over the words she’d learned. Unfortunately she didn’t have a teacher present to correct her, but she knew she had to repeat them in order to memorize them.

That’s what she was doing when another Earther, one she hadn’t seen before, had opened her cell door and directed her to walk down the hallway. At first, she thought she was being taken to see Miles Brady again, but the presence of two other guards dissuaded her of that notion. They were opening the other cells, and having the men inside come out.

Including Dree.

They directed them down the hallway and through a double-wide doorway that led into a room with many tables. The smell struck her immediately-- food. Lots of food. A counter lined against the far wall appeared to have a wide selection of various foods. Smells both familiar and foreign assaulted her senses.

It was a veritable feast worthy of a Clan Day celebration.

And, clearly, it was for them. The men around her began to chatter excitedly, voicing amazement and speculation. Some expressed concern that the Earthers were attempting to fatten them up so they could be consumed themselves. Others vocally insisted the food was poison and that they shouldn’t eat it, no matter how good it smelled. Others still had no resistance whatsoever, being among the first to pick up a plate and start loading it up.

“Well that’s certainly not what I expected,” said a voice to her left. She turned her head to see another familiar face.

“Casimir!” she exclaimed. Casimir Keren was one of General Borou’s entourage. He was one of Othniel Caradoc’s retainers. An advisor working with Borou on his own behalf. He had been working with Sizilen and Annika since they’d come to petition Caradoc for help. His was a welcome face. “You were captured as well?”

Casimir nodded. “I was taking inventory on our supplies when I was blind-sided by one of their bolas. Knocked the wind out of me. I woke up in a cell. Same as you?”

Sizilen nodded. “General Borou and I ran for the World Tree,” she explained, then pointed to the bandage on her chin. “They got me from behind.”

“And the General?” Casimir asked.

For the moment, she felt it best to keep Borou’s last act toward her to herself. “He crossed back into Embrayya.”

“Thank the gods,” he said. “If anyone can see to our rescue, it would be him. I must say, though, these Earth people treat their captives as well as Caradoc treats his guests.”

She looked at him. “You know they call their world Earth?” she asked.

“Ah,” Casimir said. “Yes, well, I exchanged words with one of--- wait, you know as well?”

She nodded. “I spoke with the one called Miles Brady,” she explained.

“And the woman, Singh?”

She nodded. “Kia Singh,” she said. “What did they say to you?”

“He greeted me in Embrayyan,” he replied. “Quite the shock, I’ll admit, but I expect you might have had a part to play in that. He wanted to learn how we speak. I felt I should oblige.”

“Did you solve their puzzle?” Sizilen asked

He nodded. “I did,” he said. “Do you think that was a test?”

“I believe so,” she explained. She looked around the room to the others. Some of the ones who had initially refused to eat were starting to pick at the food selection now, satisfied they wouldn’t fall over dead the moment they took the food. Others still stood off to the side, refusing the food and trying to tell the others they were being fattened.

Casimir nodded again. “So I suppose the question is, my Lady,” he began. “What do we do from here?”

Sizilen whipped her head toward him. “What do you mean?”

Casimir observed her for a moment. “You really don’t know?” he asked.

She cocked her head to one side, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“You forget, I was there when the deal between your sister and the King was struck,” he said. “Two steps behind you, in fact. As Caradoc’s Retainer, I was the highest ranking Embrayyan in this prison until I saw you, Matriarch.”

“No, I’m not a Matriarch yet, I--”

“Caradoc does not break his word,” he said. “Your sister fulfilled her role, and you will receive your reward. That it hasn’t happened yet is just a detail. Truth told, I should be kneeling before you right now.”

“Please don’t,” Sizilen pleaded.

Casimir laughed. “As you wish,” he said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you are a rallying point for those of us here. As a Matriarch, you alone surpass every man here in terms of authority. There is meaning in that, Sizilen. That’s why I want to know what we should do from here.”

“I... “ she began. Then she shut her mouth for a time. She looked up to Casimir, her eyes uncertain.

“There are fourteen of us here in this room,” he explained. “Thirteen men from the Embrayyan forces. Supplymen. Archers. Wolf riders. Empyreans. Officers and infantry. And you, who do not belong in any of those categories.” He leaned in close. “I could command them, but they would not respect my authority. But the rumors have spread about you since well before we arrived at Mercer’s Mound. They know you hold authority. Right here, right now, your voice holds as much weight as Caradoc’s own.”

“Now,” he continued. “You happen across two choices, each with its own merits and pitfalls. Firstly, you could choose to be a woman locked up with rough men, a world away from any sort of protection the King might offer. Or, you could choose to be a Matriarch, and be a woman leading rough men with the authority of Embrayya behind your voice. I will support whatever decision you make in that regard, but I know which of the two I’d choose.”

“You want me to command these men?”

“Not command,” Casimir corrected. “Lead. Become their hope. They believe they’ll never see Embrayya again. They believe all hope is lost. And perhaps it is. But perhaps there is a chance to see home again.”

Sizilen remained silent, weighing her options. Finally, she said, “I think… I think we might be able to negotiate with these Earthers,” she said. “It’s clear we knew far too little of them, but I think… I think we might be able to convince them to ransom us back to Caradoc. But first we need to learn to communicate with them.”

“What did you say, you slatternly wretch?” came another voice from nearby. It caught both Casimir and Sizilen off-guard. There sat Dree, with a plate full of food. “Communicate with them? Is that what you were doing when they hauled you away earlier? Communicating?” He was speaking loud enough to draw attention from the others. “Was it you, then? Did you warn the Outworlders of our coming? Did you help them?”

“Euston Dree,” Casimir said, “watch your tongue.”

“I’ll wag my tongue how I please, Ser Keren.” He threw a spoon to the floor. “The Outworlders have an interest in her,” he said. “I watched her taken from her cell before any of the others. I watched her go willingly, without so much as a single protest. Why is that, Sizilen Freia? Were you on your back for them? Your knees? How do their cocks taste?”

Sizilen turned her face up in disgust. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted Casimir striking Dree across the face.

“You dare?” Casimir exclaimed. “Do you not realize who it is you address so, Rider Dree? You dare accuse a Matriarch of such filth?”

Dree threw his food to the ground and stood up to face Casimir, his face red with anger. “She is a scared, small girl with no sense.” He turned to the other. “Just yesterday, before her dear sister opened the way to this cursed place, she was seen carousing with Raptor Company! How are we to know she wasn’t in league with Outworld? We all know the rumours! That she parlayed with the demons of the Wasted Hordes! I say she is in league with her infernal masters and manipulated the King into doing her wishes!”

Sizilen felt her face turn red-- how had they known of her time in the Wasted Lands? How had they--

No. That didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered now was how she was to respond to the accusations. She took a deep breath, and calmed her voice.

“Do you think so little of your King, Rider Dree?” Sizilen spoke. Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion. She spoke to him as if he were a tiny thing, almost unworthy of her notice. “Do you think that our King is so stupid that he would grant such a title to a traitor to Embrayya?” She cocked her head to one side. “Do you truly think my sister gave her very life only to allow me to betray all of us to Outworld, or are these merely the musings of a small, sad, frightened man?” She then looked out to the others. All eyes in the room were on her, even the four Earther guards standing alongside the wall. “And the rest of you? Do you know better than our King? Than Ser Casimir, who devoted his life to our King? Do you, who would give your very lives to see the King’s ambition fulfilled, think your King to be a fool?”

They started to look at each other.

“Don’t listen to her,” Dree insisted. “A Matriarch with a Clan of one!”

“A Matriarch nonetheless!” Casimir yelled. He turned to look at the others. “Brothers are we all, but only she carries the authority of Embrayya with her! The sole Matriarch in Outworld. If she claims no hold in Embrayya, then perhaps she may claim her hold here in Outworld!” he exclaimed. He turned to her. “And she is not a Clan of one,” Casimir announced. He knelt to the ground before her, held his fist to his heart and bowed his head. “But of two! My name is Casimir Keren, Retainer for King Othniel Caradoc! Born of Wynn’s Cross! I would renounce my birth Clan to join hers!”

Sizilen looked at Casimir in shock. She didn’t know what to say.

Dree laughed. “See how quickly he folds to her? How quickly he renounces his Clan? I’m a man of Clan Veda,” he said. “I am Dree of the Borderlands! She can never be my Matriarch.”

“Then pray to the ghosts of Embrayya, Euston Dree,” Casimir said. “Pray to your Matriarch, for she will hear you as much as the ghosts will. I will put my faith and my strength behind Sizilen Freia.”

“Oringard,” Sizilen said without thinking.

Casimir looked to her.

She looked him in the eye. “My name is no longer Freia. That was the name of a girl without parents. A girl without a Clan. I am Sizilen Oringard.”

Casimir smiled. “And I, a loyal retainer of Clan Oringard.” He stood up. “Matriarch, I ask of you, what will you have us do?”

She paused. “We may yet have a way home,” she said. “The Outworlders are different than we’ve been taught. We are prisoners, and yet our bellies are full and we are clothed. They’ve treated our wounds. They have not harmed us since we’ve been here. No torture, no beatings.” She looked to the men-- her men.

“So you would have us trust them?” Dree asked, turning to the rest of the men. “Need I remind you these beasts created the demons that slaughtered your peoples? Raped your kin? Consumed your children? They wish only to lull us into complacency! Trust them? Trust the Outworlders?” He spat. “We saw their demons last night as they descended upon us from the very sky itself! If you are a Matriarch, you’re a Matriarch of devils!”

“Slanderous wretch!” Casimir shouted. He advanced on Dree, his fists raised.

“Casimir!” Sizilen exclaimed. “Dree is not wrong. The demons have harmed all of us, and last night, we saw many things. But I do not believe they were demons. I believe they were machines, operated by men of flesh and blood, no different than yourselves.”

“Machines do not move about freely, let alone fly.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But regardless of their intent, we are-- at least for now-- at their mercy, and until we can ascertain what they intend to do with us, how do you think we stand the best chances of seeing Embrayya again? To resist them? Be they machines or demons, to face them assured of defeat? Or to learn from them, and perhaps find a way back to Embrayya?”

She saw the other men look to each other. Suddenly, one lowered himself to his knees. “I will pledge to Clan Oringard,” he said.

“As will I,” said another. He, too, knelt to the ground.

“You’re fools,” said Dree. “Stand up!”

A third man took the knee, then a fourth.

“For Clan Oringard, we will follow your command, Matriarch,” Casimir said.

“We must learn to communicate with them,” she said. “Find out their plans for us. Play along with their wishes for now. But we must remain vigilant! They have a mastery of machines the likes of which even the best engineers in Embrayya couldn’t hope to dream of, and we’ve seen it. Our role here isn’t just to get home to Embrayya, but to protect it. To protect our homes and those we love. If that means acting as though we are under their boot, then so be it!”

She looked to Dree. “Or, follow Rider Dree, whose pride may see cessation in our ignoble ends.”

The remaining men seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually they, too, took the knee.

She looked to Dree. Every man in the room was kneeling now, except for him. “What of it, Euston Dree? Will you follow your Vedish pride and fight both Outworld and Clan Oringard alone? Or will you put it aside for now and work with us?”

Dree ground his teeth for a moment, considering his answer. She could see he knew he was beaten and outnumbered. He seemed to chuckle. “I only kneel to the King, and to Iphiginia Veda. I am a man of Veda from birth to death,” he said. “If you lead us back to Embrayya I will sing your praises myself, but I could never kneel.”

“I do not expect you to kneel, Euston Dree,” she said. She looked at the rest. “And I would not demand it of any of you. But I am honored, and I will do everything in my power to get us back home without sacrificing what makes us Embrayyan!”

“For Oringard!” Casimir said.

“For Oringard!” the others repeated.

Sizilen silently thanked her sister, whose death was still very fresh. Perhaps if she could get them all back to Embrayya, she wouldn’t have need to trade her status to raise an army. She could raise one making use of her status. She looked to Casimir, his head bowed, then over to Dree. There was a glint in his eye-- he knew he’d been beaten, and he stood fast with his pride. She would have to be careful of him moving forward, but for now she knew he couldn’t do anything against her without facing the wrath of the others.

Sizilen had never had a single man pledge anything to her without expecting something in return. But now she had a Clan, named for the man who took her in and raised her. A man she would see again, one way or another.