Akhustal Palebane-chos watched with glee as her warriors returned to the land of the living, their journey to rejoin Ruresni forestalled. One by one they stumbled towards an official who, once enough had assembled, would take them to a nearby room and explain to them their situation. Once they had adjusted to their sudden revivals, they left the facility through a long, newly-constructed tunnel connecting their current location with a hidden location outside the city, where they would wait until the entire army was back and ready to move.

Such an arrangement was possible only through a lucky coincidence of city planning. One of the most ironclad traditions of Stragman society was the cycle of reincarnation and rebirth. Stragmans were given life from the Mother Tree, and when they died it was imperative that they be returned to the forest so that their spirits could reunite with Ruresni and begin the cycle anew. When the death was simply a single individual, the family would hold a small ceremony, known as the Ceremony of Restoration. When the death toll was high however, such as in the case of a war, the ceremony would be communal and was led by the Chos. Such rituals couldn’t happen on the spot, so the bodies would be stored in a massive tent set up on the very edge of the city. After all, the bodies smelled even after being treated to slow their deterioration.

It was this quirk that allowed Akhustal to implement her plan. It was paramount that Rudra’s abilities be kept secret for as long as possible, both for his protection and for surprise. The Drayhadans would discover him eventually; one could only hide thirty thousand people for so long, after all. What mattered was striking before they found out.

With that in mind, Akhustal and her team had done everything in their power to hide their plans. The revived warriors had orders to remain in their hidden location and were forbidden from even approaching the city. Their families believed them dead, and her government made sure they continued to hold that belief, as cruel and painful as it might be. Resources posed another challenge. Thanks to their sudden early departure from Krose, Stragma was now running low on certain crucial metal goods, specifically weapons and armor. Finding replacements was not an easy task on its own, but when you added in that it needed to be done quickly and stealthily it became nearly impossible to carry out.

Fortunately, Akhustal had just the right person for the job — Tepin Silverfall. When Tepin had first assumed her current role as the Chos’ assistant over fifteen years ago after the terrible accident of her predecessor, Akhustal had been skeptical to say the least. The position had never been filled by a Shell before, and no matter how qualified the woman was said to be, the Chos had trouble getting over the fact that the woman looked like she could die from a bad fart. But over the years Tepin had proven herself thousands of times over, never letting Akhustal down no matter the task given to her. It had only taken a few short years before Akhustal began to think of the little Shell as her most reliable helper. No matter the situation, Akhustal knew that she could count on Tepin.

After a little while Akhustal Palebane left the scene. Her visit could be written off by any observers simply as her preparing for the mass ceremony as long as she didn’t spend too much time there. She had to be back at headquarters for the upcoming council meeting anyway.

“...and the Fifth and Seventh divisions will head east and then north to meet us on day eight.”

“And the elves haven’t figured out what we’re doing yet, right?” Palebane asked as General Fernfeather-hono finished his summary of their logistical plans.

“Not as far as we can tell,” Stonefist-hono replied. “Little to no troop movement.”

While the thirty-two thousand revived warriors made a formidable force in most cases, only an army over twice that size could take a fully-garrisoned Astronta Keep. Add in the need to take the fortress quickly and with as many living Drayhadans as possible, and a force over a hundred thousand strong became necessary. But that meant redeploying the entire army that had just returned from the first aborted campaign, and doing so without the Drayhadans noticing until it was too late.

What they’d decided upon was to send out different divisions on fake wildlife subjugation missions. Living in the Stragman forest required constant management of the plants and animals, even some days of travel away. Sometimes thousands of warriors needed to be sent out to depopulate a species that was overproducing, or to divert a small migration, or even to put down or chase away some forest Lords that were straying too far from their territory. Using the excuse that these soldiers were available because they weren’t supposed to be back yet, along with the excuse that their early arrival in Pholis had upset the balance of the forest’s ecology, they’d split their army up with orders to head off towards some subjugation missions and then meet up secretly on the way to Astronta Keep.

“Are we going to have enough shackles for everybody?” Akhustal asked.

“We are requisitioning the restraints used for prisoners during migration,” replied General Nightclaw-hono. “We should have enough for nearly twenty thousand captives.”

“Excellent. Most excellent.” Akhustal tried to tamp down her excitement at how well everything was progressing, but found it hard. She couldn’t help but envision Pyria’s face when the longear realized that the Chos was no longer under her thumb. The image alone almost made her giddy. But there was still work to be done and many things that could still go wrong. She needed to keep her eye on the target. “Well done, everyone. Dismissed!”

The assembled generals filed out of the briefing chamber one by one until only one remained.

“What is it?” Akhustal asked, her tone far less accommodating now that the others were no longer around.

“I hope you understand why I said what I said a few days ago,” General Fernfeather began.

“Oh, did you change your mind?” Akhustal asked, a mocking sneer on her lips. “What happened to your courage? Or can you only muster up your defiance when a whole room of Hono are with you?”

“You were making poor decisions, letting that woman get in your head and control you. You were putting our entire nation at risk with your actions. You know I would never have dared if I didn’t feel it was needed. I meant-”

“But you did dare,” she interrupted, her voice cold and hard. “You crossed that line, and you don’t get to pretend now like it never happened.” She hoisted her massive warclub up onto her shoulder, rose up to her full towering height, and stared the closest person she had to a rival directly in his eyes. “I say this to you now, and to anybody bold and stupid enough to question me like that in the future — go ahead. Challenge me if you don’t like my leadership, I welcome it. But you had better come with everything you have, because I will crush you. I will show you no mercy. I am the Chos. Not you, not anybody else. Me. And I will tolerate disrespect no longer.”

Her anger vented, Akhustal Palebane strode purposefully from the room with a smile, leaving a sweating General Fernfeather-hono alone to pick up what remained of his nerve.

Standing outside the Many tent, the Chos slapped her cheeks lightly, trying to force the grin off her face. She’d been waiting for this moment for days now, ever since leaving Pholis for the second time and heading for war and vengeance, and it was hard to keep from being giddy. Still, it wouldn’t do to be too open in her enjoyment. She represented Stragma, after all. Once she felt she had been sufficiently de-smiled, she began to count slowly in her head. Once she had reached two hundred, she pulled the flap back and entered the enclosure.

“I apologize deeply for my tardiness,” she said to the projection of the irate elf standing on the ground before her, a large chain in her hand leading out of the projection. “I rushed here at the earliest possible opportunity.” The glare that came in return warmed her spirit like a hot bowl of hearty soup.

“I thought you many things, savage, but I did not take you to be a fool,” Pyria growled. She yanked the chain and a bedraggled man, blindfolded and gagged, stumbled into view. Both parties knew who the man was even before his appearance, but the disheveled red-orange hair confirmed it — Caprakan. Unlike the previous times, this time they’d stripped him of clothing so Akhustal got a first-time look at how he’d been treated. Bruises covered his body, melding with his Hono markings so that it seemed like his entire body was some shifting shade of purple or black. Mixed in with the bruises were hundreds of little cuts in various stages of healing. Some still bled, his blood leaving tiny drops of red on the stone floor.

Akhustal grit her teeth in rage. These wounds were attacks on him, of course, but they were also attacks on her. Everything Pyria had done to Caprakan had been done with the intention of hurting Akhustal in ways that she couldn’t deflect. But to react was to give Pyria victory, and she had given the elf enough victories in the previous days. Never again. The Chos had to be strong.

“I’m not sure what you are referring to,” Akhustal said.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Withdraw your army immediately. I will not give you a second chance.”

“My army? Oh, the one just two days from Astronta Keep? That one? Why are you contacting me about that now? Whatever happened to your ‘vast network of spies’? Shouldn’t they have informed you about it days ago?”

“I see... so you’ve finally decided to grow a spine.” The elven princess pulled Caprakan closer and brought out the ornate knife that she liked to play with during their ‘chats’. “Perhaps some surgery is needed to remove it.”

With her free hand the elf removed her prisoner’s blindfold, letting Akhustal lock eyes with her husband for the first time since they’d kissed goodbye so many days ago. In those eyes she saw many things — pain, anger, and hate, but also a hope and joy from finally seeing his beloved. She smiled a reassuring grin in return.

“This is your absolute final warning. Turn your army around this instant, or he will be the first of many to die today.”

Akhustal stood straight and didn’t back down. “I am ridding myself of you, you vile wretch. No longer do you get to push me around. Do your worst.”

Pyria blinked and the Chos thought she saw an inferno of anger blazing in her eyes for just a fraction of a moment, but the elf recovered quickly. “Very well. Then you can live the rest of your life knowing that you killed your own husband.” She brought her knife up and slit Caprakan’s throat with a single quick, practiced motion.

The man writhed as blood spurted out onto the floor below, but his eyes never left his wife’s. In them she saw love and longing, but also bewilderment and betrayal. In many ways, that hurt more than any physical wound ever could. Then he was gone.

Waves of warriors poured over the walls of Astronta Keep in overwhelming numbers, sweeping over the assembled elves in a wave of flesh and fury. Armed with a variety of weapons, from metal swords and spears to long and thin poles recently cut from trees in the forest, the Stragmans threw themselves upon the defending Drayhadans with reckless abandon. Amidst those waves was Akhustal, who, after watching her love die just two days ago at the hands of an elf, needed to let out some rage.

With a quick swing, Akhustal smashed her club into a nearby defender’s skull, intentionally lightening the weapon so as not to pulverize the man’s head. The elf’s head twisted sideways from the force of the blow and a ‘snap’ sound came from his neck. He fell over, body limp. Whoops.

With a second swing, she struck another nearby elf, only this time she went for his chest instead. Off balance from the heavy blow, the man stumbled backwards into another elf’s spear, impaling himself. Whoops.

Looking about, the Chos saw was satisfaction that while the battle would rage for another few hours, the result was already clear. The fortress had only been held by three quarters of what they’d originally estimated and planned for, making the outcome easy to predict. They would have their prisoners. The only question would be how many, and at what cost?

With a cry, another defender launched himself at her and she twisted to the side, bringing her weapon about to clip his shoulder as he passed. Out of control, the man flew past her and over the rampart wall. Akhustal sighed. This whole ‘not killing’ thing was harder than she’d thought.

The elderly elf peered through the projection, his face awash with displeasure. Old even for somebody of his race, he sported a long white beard that fell down nearly to his waist, and yet in true elven fashion still had smooth, wrinkle-free face beneath it. No matter how old, elves never seemed to have the wrinkles or pock marks or wear that others acquired as they aged. Instead they simply seemed to slowly shrink until one day they died.

Old as he was, his deep blue eyes still shined with intellect. Such was to be expected of Qoton Casm, the head of the Casm clan in the northeast of Drayhadal and the current leader of the nation. Given Drayhadal’s isolationist leanings, Qoton preferred to leave dealing with other countries to somebody else — Pyria, the last few decades. That was why Akhustal was using one of Astronta Keep’s Manys instead of the usual Stragma-Drayhadal line. Today called for a more direct conversation.

“Are you here to gloat, savage?” the man asked sourly.

“My, my,” Akhustal replied, her tone dripping with condescension. “I would have thought that someone of your station would have the sense to know when to keep the insults to themselves. Are you becoming senile? I guess age must strike everybody eventually.”

“So that is a ‘yes’, then?”

“Twenty-seven thousand, four hundred and eight. That’s how many of your glorious elven people are in my possession. They are all alive, for now, and for the right price I’ll even give them back. Isn’t that nice of me?”

The man glowered at her, his evident displeasure bringing the Chos great joy. This was a man who was used to always having the upper hand. “Name your terms and I’ll consider it.”

“Let’s keep it simple. One living Drayhadan for three living Stragmans seems fair.”

“What? Insanity!”

“Is it? But I thought that one Drayhadan was worth ten savages. Isn’t that what you elves always love to say? If you think about it, I’m actually giving you a discount!”

“Wha- thi-this is an outrage!”

“Well, if you don’t need them, I can always just kill them...”

“W-wait! Very well, I agree to your terms.”

“Great! I will take my army to the border between Stragma and the Esmae. We can conduct the exchange there. Don’t forget to bring eighty-two thousand, two hundred and twenty four captive Stragmans! You do have that many, right?”

“Enough of your mockery! Of course we don’t! You know that as well as I do!”

“Oh... well, it seems we have a problem then. If all you have is my Second Army, then I guess I could give back ten thousand of your people. But then what would happen to the others?” She scratched her chin in mock puzzlement. “Perhaps if you paid in other ways, such as food, or weapons, or maybe both? We can work out the exact exchange rates later.”

“I will not forget this, you monster.”

“Monster? Why thank you! I assume that means you agree to my terms?”

“I will allow the exchange to occur this once, but only once, so don’t start thinking you can do this again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have even thought of it at all if it weren’t for you and your wonderful clans,” she replied with a smile. “Glad we could do business! So to make sure we’re in agreement, you will exchange my Second Army for five thousand of your people, and then food, weapons, and goods for the rest.”

“Five- you said ten thousand!”

“Did I?”

“One Drayhadan for three sav- three Stragmans. That was the deal.”

“Oh, no no no, I said one Drayhadan for three living Stragmans. And I don’t believe you have any of those on hand, do you? Or did Pyria Esmae not tell you that she killed all my people just a few days ago?”

“She-”

“I’m sure she must have. Well, I’m glad we could work this all out. I’ll leave the rest to you. Give my regards to Pyria.” With a wave of her hand the connection cut and she left the old man to stew in his bile.

For the thousandth time, Akhustal congratulated herself on her idea. Stragma’s economy was suffering a crippling shortage of materials and metal due to their early flight from Krose. Why not use their upper hand to relieve her people’s burdens while she could? Even a little extra goods would go a long way. This, she thought as she looked over the mountains of goods extorted from the Drayhadans, was far more than a little.

In the end, she’d ‘relented’ and lowered the ratio of dead Stragmans to Drayhadans down from six-to-one to five-to-one, still giving her people more than enough to celebrate over. People swarmed over the piles, counting, categorizing, and measuring the goods to make sure enough had been provided to honor the deal. Others checked the actual quality of the goods, making sure that the weapons weren’t defective and the food was not poisoned.

Off to the side of the piles of goods was another series of piles, one far more morbid. Thirty thousand-or-so bodies laid in a series of large heaps with people carrying them from one pile to another as the bodies were processed. She headed over that way for a status report.

“How’s the body count coming?” she asked General Fernfeather-hono.

“We’re confirming the numbers now. If the early count is correct, we are missing less than a thousand warriors, possibly those that died in the original battle.”

“Did you find him?”

Fernfeather-hono paused for a moment. “We did. You might not want to look.”

“No, I must. Show me.”

The general led her around the piles to a small tent set up by the piles. Inside on the ground was a single body, one in absolutely terrible shape. Cut and gashes were everywhere. The eyes were gone, the face had been disfigured almost to the point of unrecognizability, and it was missing its left arm and right leg. Somebody had been really angry. Still, she knew on sight that it was him. She was looking at her husband’s corpse.

“Heh... heh heh...” she began to giggle. The giggles grew louder and louder, turning into laughs, until finally she lost all control and began to let loose full-blown guffaws. Soon she was laughing so hard that tears were streaking down her face, though if they were from mirth or relief she wasn’t sure.

“Look at what they did to him,” she eventually said to General Fernfeather-hono between laughs. “They have no idea! In a few days he’ll be walking around like nothing ever happened and they have no idea! Everybody out there is going to be fine and they have no idea! They think they got some petty little revenge on me, but they didn’t! Nothing they did matters! Nothing!” She cackled some more. “It’s... it feels like we’re cheating, doesn’t it? They can’t do anything to us now!”

Several hours later, the goods had been counted and everything was ready to go. Perhaps because they had so much to lose, the Drayhadans hadn’t tried to play any tricks for once. With a smug grin on her face, she initiated contact with Pyria through a captured Drayhadan many. The woman was actually nearby with the Drayhadan forces, but instead of talking face-to-face, Pyria chose to keep her distance. A wise move. Akhustal would have ripped her in half as soon as they were together.

The elf looked deliciously sour. Akhustal bet Pyria was still angry about her and Qoton’s conversation. While killing the hostages was an expected move, and something Qoton would probably have done in the same situation, the action had apparently not actually been an order, but rather Pyria taking initiative. Since it had backfired on them, that meant that Qoton got to blame her for the results, and she was none too happy about it.

“Finally done?” the Esmae princess huffed. “It figures that you savages would take forever to count.”

Akhustal ignored the jab. Normally she’d find Pyria’s petty insults at least mildly irritating, but today nothing could bother her. Today, she was victorious. “You have fulfilled the agreement. The hostages will be released shortly.”

“Hurry up and get it over with. The sooner you’re away from here the better.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. Farewell, princess. Perhaps next time you will reconsider before you think to try to cross me.”

The elf gave no reply other than a chilling glare. It was the most delightful thing the Chos had seen in days.

“Come on, Tepin, hurry up!” Akhustal called to her sickly assistant. Normally the Chos liked to walk at a calm, reasonable pace, which had the side effect of allowing the smaller Ms. Silverfall to keep up. But today was different. Today they had returned to Pholis victorious. Today, she would see her husband alive again. It was no wonder that she couldn’t help but stride with speed and purpose. Looking back at the woman struggling to follow, Akhustal decided to just go ahead without her. Tepin knew where they were going, she’d show up a little later.

The guards snapped to attention as soon as they saw her approaching the house on the outskirts of the city. She made a mental note to have the guard on Rudra doubled... or maybe even tripled. His abilities were just too important to allow for any chance of something happening. Humming a pleasant tune, she walked right by and opened the front door.

Once inside, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the light and looked around. Strangely, the visitor from another world was nowhere to be found. Panic quickly rose up inside her. Had something happened? Where was he when she needed him?

“Hello? Who’s there?” came a call from somewhere in the room.

Akhustal looked around to find the man bent over, his upper body squeezed beneath a low table with his butt sticking foolishly into the air as if asking to be spanked.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Oh it’s you!” he said without coming out from under the table. “I’m just feeding Slinky, one moment. That’s right, eat up... good girl! Good Slinky! That’s ri-OW!” His body shot up and the table fell over. A small shape darted into a dark corner of the room.

“I have another task for you. There are over sixty thousand people I need you to bring back.”

“Another army?”

“Yes. Come, I want you to begin immediately.”

The man frowned and shook his head, his hands on his hips. “You want me to keep giving you armies so that you can go to war without consequence? I can’t enable violence like that. Do you even know what a pacifist is?”

The Chos felt her ire grow as she remembered just how irritating this man could be. “You did it once already.”

“And it was a mistake, one I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. If you want me to do that again, you’ll have to pay a price.”

Akhustal’s grip on her club tightened. “I already paid your price. You have your freedom, a home, everything you asked for.”

“That was the price for the last time. Did you think that it was forever?”

“You little...” Her temper flared, but she caught herself just in time. Yes, he was a Shell, and yes, he had no right to speak to her that way or make demands. But he was unfortunately a special case, and she needed him more than anything. He could bring her husband back to her, and nobody else, be they Shell, Fleg, Blou, or Hono, could say the same. She would allow him his little power trip, get him whatever inconsequential things he asked for, and continue forward. She was bigger than this. “Very well, what is your price this time?”

“I want all Shells to get three times what they used to get paid from this point onward.”

Akhustal nearly choked at his words, unable to believe her ears. Slowly, a red mist filled her vision. “What... did you say?”

“I said I want all Shells to get three times what they get paid now from this point forward. Oh, and they don’t have to ask permission to leave anymore, too. That’s bullshit.”

A rage hotter than anything she’d ever felt before burst into existence inside of her. Before she even knew what she was doing, her club was swinging at full speed towards Rudra’s torso. The man threw his hands up to guard from the blow but the club’s massive weight lifted him from the ground and threw him with incredible force away from her. His large, muscular body slammed into the nearby wall and it splintered under the mighty impact. The man tumbled out onto the platform before crashing into the fence that kept people from falling off the edge. Dazed, he stumbled as he tried to get back to his feet.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, worm?!” Akhustal bellowed as she stepped through the newly-created hole. “First the longears, then my own generals, and now you, a measly fucking Shell, think you can tell me what to do? You think I am your fucking plaything?!”

Her leg shot forward and she delivered a vicious kick to his gut, causing him to crumple over. “The people of this land have survived for centuries because our traditions strengthen us. They make us whole! You think you can just walk in and change everything to your liking? You think that if you hold him hostage I will crumble? No! I’m done being pushed around! I’m done being disrespected! I am the Chos, ruler of Stragma, and I bow to NO ONE! YOU HEAR ME?!”

With her free hand she pulled the Shell to his feet and lifted him up so that his face was level with hers. “I gave into your petty demands once, but no longer. I am the Chos and you are nothing compared to me! If I order, you obey! Nothing more! You do not get to make demands! You do not get to add conditions! You do not get a choice! Now you will bring him back to me this instant or I will end you. Right here, right now.”

The man coughed and mumbled something.

“What was that?” she asked, pulling him closer.

“I said, now it’s gone up to four times the pay.”

With a violent roar, Akhustal Palebane grabbed the Shell’s head and slammed it against the nearby fencepost with all her might. The post shattered under the assault and the man fell to the ground, unconscious. “Tepin!” she cried.

“Yes, Chos?” the woman asked. She must have arrived at some point during the altercation.

“I want a new suspended prison built just for him. Nothing but a room hanging in midair. Nothing to do, nothing to see, nobody to talk to. Nothing. He will live there until he gives me what I want. Understood?”

“Absolutely, Chos,” she sniffed, giving the man slumped over on the ground a dispassionate eye. “It will be done immediately.”

“Good. Also have the bodies preserved, however you have to. They need to last until he breaks.”

“Of course, Chos.”

“Thank you, Tepin. That is all.” Akhustal gave one last look at the unconscious figure before turning away and heading for the elevator. He wanted to play rough? Then she would do the same.