Frances awoke in the middle of the day, the high sun shining in her room by the sound of cannons.

How many times had she woken up after being badly wounded, dressed in that typical white hospital shift? Frances was beginning to lose count. Maybe it was the third time? But then there was the time she’d blacked out after Westfall Pass…

Shaking her head, Frances examined herself, and winced. Her leg seemed to be healed by magic, but there was this tingling feeling. It was almost as if she couldn’t make it move as easily. There were bandages across her chest too.

She felt… she wasn’t sure what she felt. She didn’t want to sit in her bed and think, though. The city needed defending. She didn’t have time to rest, and… as she felt the roiling simmer of emotions rise in her throat, she wasn’t sure what was going to happen if she stopped to think.

“How long was I out?” Frances asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth jumped, staring at her friend walking—no, limping onto the Windwhistler compound’s training grounds. Now, it was the barracks of the Lightning Battalion. Human and Alavari members were training, shooting muskets at targets set up in the courtyard, or practicing with pikes and halberds.

At least, the survivors were. Elizabeth felt the guilt rise again, like the water that had nearly drowned her, and wiped her eyes again.

“Two days. Frances, are you alright—nevermind, sorry, that’s a dumb question,”

Frances smiled, briefly. “I’m… better, Liz. How… is there anything I can do to help?”

Elizabeth froze, and forcefully shook her head. “No. There’s nothing. I… I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

“Alright.” Frances turned and found herself tackled by Ayax’s long arms.

“You’re alive! I thought… I thought you were dead!” sobbed the troll.

“It wasn’t that—”

“You got shot and stabbed. You lost so much blood your skin was white!” Ayax eyes, wide and desperate, stared into Frances, and she felt a cold chill shake her.

“I think it was just… bad luck,” said Frances helplessly. For what else could she say? Ayax had no response to that either and the two simply hugged.

“Where are Martin and Ginger?” Frances asked.

“We’re over here!” Martin ran over, Ginger walking more sedately behind him, and standing a little farther away from the group. “Frances, it’s really good to see you up.”

“Thanks, Martin,” said Frances, warming at the simply relieved smile on her friend’s face. She took a deep breath. “It’s good to be up. And speaking of… we need to make a call to Edana. Ginger, how would you like to talk to the Firehand?”

The switch between Ginger’s almost haughty expression to one of wide-eyed adoration was almost worth Frances getting out of bed.

Edana had greeted Frances and her friends with her usual concern and after nearly crying with relief at their escape, had listened quietly to Ginger’s tale.

To illustrate the point, Ginger had allowed Frances to give her an order to tell the truth, and anytime she tried to lie, her face twisted as the mark started to inflict pain on her.

When they finished, Frances could tell her mother was apoplectic with rage, even though her expression remained a stoic mask. It probably had to do with how the older woman clenched her jaw.

“Frances, I am giving you permission to modify the mage contracts of your convicts-soldiers to remove the punish spell and the command that forces them to obey orders. The stipulation that prevents them from escaping stays, though.”

Frances glanced at Ginger, who nodded. “That’s reasonable.”

“That being said, I’m not sure what I can do to change this for other convicts. I fully intend on bringing it to the War Council’s attention, but we don’t have enough mages to run around changing convict contracts, and many officers… they don’t care about the convicts,” said Edana.

Frances took a deep breath. She’d been thinking about the convict soldiers for a while, observing how Ginger and the other convicts were motivated and considering how other people that weren’t her, might see the convicts. And she’d reached a conclusion that seemed obvious to her.

“Mom, if this continues, convict-soldiers will be more hindrance than help,” said Frances.

Edana arched an eyebrow as Frances continued. “The mage contracts make sure that nobody is encouraged to look out for the convict soldiers. They arrived malnourished, ill-trained, and with barely any equipment. They are right now, without a doubt, the weakest company in our impromptu battalion. Even if we used them as human shields, they won’t even be good shields, especially not against Alavari muskets or cavalry.”

“They can’t march as fast either, which slows us down,” Martin added.

“And we have to feed them and find shelter for them anyway, so why don’t we just do it properly and treat them as soldiers?” Ayax asked.

“Which means paying them,” said Elizabeth.

“Paying them?” Edana asked, suddenly.

“Wait, paying us?” Ginger asked at the same time.

“You’re soldiers, you get paid,” said Martin in a matter-of-fact voice. “Even if you are serving in the army in exchange for a prison sentence, even if you might get paid less, you should be at least getting a wage for this.”

“That and it’ll dissuade those with light fingers from looting and stealing from those around them,” said Elizabeth.

Edana looked thoughtful and she was nodding as she listened. “You’re right. I was a little apprehensive about pay, but it’s the right thing to do. I… I can’t promise anything in good faith, though. The War Council has factions and we often need to compromise on strategy.”

“Just do your best, mom. I know you will,” said Frances.

Edana smiled. “Take care, all of you. Frances, if you need me, just call.”

Frances hesitated. Talking to Edana, about the anger, the frustration, her worries… it all sounded nice, but… so far away, what could her mother do? It had helped before, but this time she knew what she had to do. And Frances didn’t want to worry her mother, especially since she had promised to try to become stronger by herself.

“I’m… alright mom, if I do need to talk to you, I’ll call. Promise,” said Frances.

Edana looked worried, but she nodded. “Alright, take care.”

“Frances, are you sure you don’t need to rest?”

“Elizabeth, I’d like to, but I don’t think we have the time,” said Frances. She said this, even as she held tightly onto Elizabeth’s shoulder. They were entering the Great Library, where they were coordinating the defense of the city. This was mostly because the Great Library had the best maps of the city.

It also had a lot of office and conference space, and it was one of these rooms the teens strode in.

Alexander, Ayax’s father, was standing beside Elowise, the centaur beside a large map of the city. Numerous flags representing various units were on it, along with several other small blocks of wood. Frances realized that they seemed to represent fortifications.

“Hello everybody, I’m glad you could make it,” said Alexander.

“Hey dad,” said Ayax, smiling.

“I would say it’s commander, but that would be rather pretentious,” said Alexander. He gestured to the centaur. “You already know Elowise.”

“Yes. What do you need us to do, sir?” Elizabeth asked, curtly. She winced as she said so, but if she was being too short, Alexander and Elowise didn’t seem to mind.

“First off, the northern walls are going to fall soon. They weren’t built to resist cannon and so I think they’ll be past them in two days. So instead of defending them, we’re going to lure them into the city and fight from defensive lines set up in the city. I want the Lightning Battalion to be one of several quick-response forces. You’ll be shoring up defences at critical breaches, or leading counterattacks,” Alexander explained.

“To facilitate that, you’ll be getting reinforcements. Erisdale sent us another company of convict soldiers and since you seem to have a way with them, we’ve assigned them to you.” Elowise frowned. “You seem to have a problem with that.”

Frances glanced at her friends, all of them looking more than a little apprehensive at that news. Ginger was understandably, the most annoyed.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “With all due respect, um…”

“Ma’am,” said Elowise.

“We’re happy to have the convict soldiers, ma’am, but if they came in the condition of the last company we had, we won’t be able to use them without training and feeding them up,” said Elizabeth.

“If you want us to be a quick response force, sir, you’ll need to give us actual soldiers,” Frances said.

Elowise frowned at that, while Alexander nodded in understanding.

“Which is why I’m also assigning you several squads of cavalry and infantry that deserted the Battle of the Aijin Fields and have been undergoing remedial training. That will bring your strength up to four hundred soldiers, with a full company being cavalrymen.”

“Were they truly in such bad condition?” Elowise asked.

“Yup, we were,” said Ginger, dryly. “Comes with having built in “torture racks.””

“Which I will also need time to remove,” said Frances, noting Elowise’s wide-eyed stare at Ginger. Frances wasn’t sure where her newfound confidence was coming from. Then again, maybe it wasn’t confidence at all. Frances was probably quite simply done with being put in a bad place and expected to perform a miracle.

“You have the rest of the day to do so and train. Are there any other questions?” Alexander asked.

Ayax raised her hand, “Where will we be based at?”

Elowise, having recovered, pointed to a point on the map. “You’ll be based in the Windwhistler Manor for the moment. It’s close enough to the northern part of the city that it’ll be easy to get to and from and it’s also fortified. Reinforcements should be there soon. Is that all?”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Thank you.”

Ayax grumbled. “Another group of convict soldiers. Is Erisdale going to send some actual reinforcements or are they going to show up after the city has fallen?”

“We’ll do what we can, but for now we have our orders. At least we’re getting reinforced,” said Elizabeth.

Frances realized that Martin had fallen behind and turned around to find him standing, clenching his fists, Ginger looking at him worriedly. “Martin?”

“Sorry, I… I’m a little frustrated myself,” said the knight. He shook his head and suddenly, kicked at a loose cobblestone, sending it flying down the road.

The uncharacteristic act of rage immediately brought Frances to her friend’s side. She slowly wrapped her arm around his and intertwined her fingers with his. “Martin… we’re here. What can we do?”

“Nothing! Because my kingdom has… how do you say it? Hung us out to dry again!”

“Hung us out to dry?” asked Ginger, quietly, having taken a step back.

Frances whispered to Ginger, “Similar turn of phrase to “left us in the brine.””

“Martin, it’s not your fault,” said Ayax.

Martin flung his free arm up to the sky. “I know that! It’s Erisdale’s fault! It was their fault for not preventing that massacre at Icalith! Their fault that landed us three with the job of basically taking Kwent. Their fault that they lost Freeburg. Their fault that for some reason they’re using convicts as human shields! I’m sick and tired of hearing “and then they fucked me and my friends” every time we land in shit!”

“Hey… it’s alright, Martin. We’re alive, we… we have a chance,” stammered Ginger.

Frances could see Martin look up, and his expression as he looked at Ginger was stricken with grief and surprise.

“It’s not alright. You showed me that.”

Ginger frowned, “The heck do you mean—”

“Do you really want me to go into the details of our nightly activities and what I extrapolated from them, dear?” Martin asked.

The former convict looked away from the knight, ashamed tears in her eyes. “I… I didn’t think, I hoped you wouldn’t realize.”

Martin sighed. “I noticed on the first night, Ginger. You are still injured.”

Frances whirled on Ginger, eyes wide. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your healer!”

“You are?” Ginger squawked.

Frances felt someone was laughing at her at this very moment and for a moment, she nearly gave in the temptation to scream. As it was, she just sighed. “I think I’m going to add another medical checkup on top of modifying mage marks.”

“And Martin, you… you’re not alone. I’m… pretty angry with the Kingdom of the Alavari.” Ayax breathed out and in, features schooled into her stoic mask. “I was never… like super loyal to them. But it’s like they’ve gone crazy. I know it can’t help but… yeah, your country betraying you is shitty.”

“And we can change that,” said Elizabeth, smiling. “We are changing that. You’re removing the marks after all, Frances?”

“Not entirely, but the most important part,” said Frances, nodding. She was glad to see Elizabeth smiling again, even if it wasn’t as wide as it used to be.

“Yeah… yeah,” said Martin, he breathed out. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think you need to apologize, Martin. How many times have you held my hand when I had a bad moment?” Frances asked.

“Quite a lot,” Martin said, eyes sparkling. “Consider it payback I guess.”

There were some chuckles at that. It wasn’t happy chuckles, but any laughter at his point was better than none.

Frances was incensed at what the checkup revealed. While many of the convicts had been honest, more had been hesitant.

To try to reduce that chance, the teens had decided to pair members of their first group of convict-soldiers with members of their second group. This was both to show the new arrivals the ropes, to establish a good rapport, and most importantly, to convince the new, wary arrivals, that the Lightning Battalion was different.

It had been rather effective, especially with the medical exams, as the first group of convicts attested to Frances’s honesty and willingness to help, and allowed her, with some of the Windwhistler hired doctors and nurses, to examine them.

To Frances’s horror, Ginger, and several other convicts, were suffering from chronic pain and numbness in various parts of their bodies. The “punish” command had basically caused nerve damage and now every convict was on potions to try to repair some of the damage. Ginger was hands-down the worst case and was now on a list of five different potions, the first batch she drank with a wince.

“How… did he figure it out, Frances?” the former convict had asked. There was a quiet, devastated look on her face. “I… I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t want his pity. I… I just wanted a good lay with someone who wouldn’t hurt—would treat me right.”

Frances struggled to find the words to explain as her embarrassment and her urge to hug the older girl warred within her.

“I have no… experience in the matter of sex, and that’s not for me to ask you. But Martin touched you… in different places right?” Frances finally asked.

“Yes. But… but that doesn’t mean he could have noticed. Some women are more sensitive in different places,” Ginger stammered.

That… was true, and Frances was momentarily stumped, until her mind came up with the answer. “Um, it’s possible he touched places where it would have been strange to get two completely different responses. Like both shoulders, both knees, or both breasts.”

“Oh, right,” whispered Ginger. The older girl blinked hard, trying to hold back tears.

“It won’t be permanent. You… you might not fully recover, but the potions should restore any sensation you’ve lost in time.” Frances smiled wistfully. “Then you can have all the fun you want with Martin.”

“I would love that,” said Ginger. She blinked. “I… I said that out loud did I?”

“Yes,” Frances said, smiling. She picked up the quill and paper on a nearby desk and began to write out some of the detailed instructions for Ginger to read later regarding her recovery and the potions she had to drink.

“Frances, thanks,” said Ginger.

When Frances glanced over her shoulder, she was met with probably the widest smile she’d ever seen Ginger wear. It wasn’t a fully happy one. She looked tired and exhausted, but Frances could see the feeling behind it.

“Anytime,” said Frances, smiling back.

At the end of the long, and busy day, Frances found herself alone, and not entirely sure what to do with herself.

The children of the Windwhistler household had long been evacuated to Erisdale by ship, where her mother had set up accommodation for them at Salpheron. Most of the adult members of her family were busy or doing their own relaxing.

She considered visiting her Uncle Eustace again. He’d been blasted with splinters from a near-miss with a cannonball while leading the ships that had rescued them. That had badly cut him up and to Eleanor’s sorrow, he’d lost an eye thanks to an errant splinter. The captain was alright but now wore a black eyepatch, making him look like a pirate.

But then again, she’d visited him just before dinner and he’d been quite exhausted, having not healed up nearly as quickly as Frances had. No, he needed rest.

Frances then considered seeking out her friends, but she hesitated.

She’d seen Ginger drag Martin off to explore Erlenberg. She wasn’t going to find them in the Windwhistler compound tonight. As for Elizabeth and Ayax, she’d chanced on the bizarre scene that was her cousin following Elizabeth.

They weren’t actually doing anything other than that. Elizabeth was pacing through the corridors of the Windwhistler manor. Ayax was just following her, kind of like a silent puppy. The Otherworlder had looked as if the last thing she wanted was Ayax following her, but she wasn’t saying no. And every so often, Frances, caught Elizabeth turning around, as if to check if the troll was still following her.

Frances, for a moment, was tempted to ask what was going on, but the pair were off again, leaving Frances quite baffled, and alone.

Just… what was she supposed to do at this late hour? With her thoughts echoing in her head. Thoughts about how she couldn’t save her soldiers, help her friends, find someone to be with…

Frances clapped her cheeks and shook her head. She needed company. After changing into a nice, but not too nice red dress, she left a note letting everybody know she’d be back late and walked over to the entrance of the Windwhistler compound.

A party of soldiers, and some of the convicts she’d examined, were entering through the main gate. The Lightning Battalion was barracked in the Windwhistler compound in some extra quarters and in temporary wooden shelters set up on the greenspace and these soldiers were returning to their quarters. They respectfully waved to her as she passed them by. Frances waved back and entered the city.

She knew where she was going. She’d passed it in the daytime, but she’d never been to the Golden Street, where Erlenberg’s nightlife ran, during the night.

The street was even now, still packed, and hundreds of lanterns and passers-by festooned the streets. The lights lit a long row of brightly lit buildings, Erlenberg’s famous Houses of Light.

Frances picked one, the Shimmering Sunset and after waiting in line for ten minutes, she entered, paying the entrance fee.

The particular House of Light Frances had picked had a red and gold theme to its naming. As she entered the Shimmering Sunset’s grand hall, she saw velvet couches where waiters and waitresses attended to laughing Erlenberg citizenry, a dark red mahogany bartop, attended by tens of bartenders, and a gold-leaf ceiling that reflected the light of the crystal chandeliers. The staff also had this gold and red uniform, which often included a red waistcoat with gold accents. They attended to tables of diners, gamblers, or danced on the great stage at the end of the hall.

She took this in, staring at the sight for a moment, and reflected on why she’d decided to go to a House of Light of all places, this theatre slash club slash restaurant slash casino slash brothel. Part of it was out of the curiosity of how ‘forbidden’ these establishments were. She had also heard that one could always have fun at these establishments.

But if Frances had to be completely honest, she just didn’t want to be alone. She could have hung out with her subordinates, but she was their healer and second-in-command. She needed to keep some distance between them. The idea she might be able to spend time with… with someone, in some capacity, had an alluring appeal to her right now.

Her mother—biological mother that is—would have been incensed. However, Edana had long given her permission but told her to only choose reputable establishments that treated their staff well. When asked, Eleanor had, without batting an eyelid, told Frances that the Shimmering Sunset was highly reputable.

It was after all, an establishment that the Windwhistlers had themselves invested in and they did not do shady business.

A friendly, if a little too enthusiastic voice interrupted her thoughts. “Miss, welcome to the Shimmering Sunset. Is it your first time coming?”

Frances blinked and nodded as the warm, chocolate-brown eyes of a female harpy in the club’s uniform met her. There weren’t many of the winged women with bird-claw feet in Erlenberg. They preferred more mountainous or heavily forested terrain. This one was exceptionally (though perhaps unsurprisingly) pretty. She was dressed in a red and gold dress under her waistcoat that hugged gentle, but defined curves, and complimented her wavy golden-brown hair. The dress was sleeveless, letting the tawny wings that replaced where the arms on a human would go through.

“May I know your name, miss? I’m Renia. I can show you around here and where you can have the most fun,” said the harpy.

“Frances Windwhistler.” She winced just as the words left her mouth because Renia’s chocolate-brown eyes were widening. “Please, I don’t want to draw any attention. I have permission, I just don’t need—”

“Hordes of people crowding you?” Renia asked, winking. “Duly noted. What would you like to start with, Frances?”

“Um, I…” Frances swallowed and felt her cheeks warm. “I’d like to ask someone for company. Not of that kind! I just… want to talk, have a drink. Watch some performances. See how it goes.”

“Oh, of course, follow me. Do you have a preference?” Renia asked.

Frances didn’t reply at first. She had wondered if she’d like a man, but now that she thought about it, she wasn’t ready for that step. That and the rules regarding age of consent in Durannon were kinda complicated. Too complicated for Frances to want to handle right now. There were all kinds of age brackets you had to be in to be allowed to do certain things with certain people and all of them had their own exceptions. Too complicated indeed. Frances didn't even really want to have sex. She just wanted to talk with someone.

“A woman, preferably.”

Renia smiled and led her to the side of the Grand Hall, where a number of humans and Alavari stood idly by, posing. Beside them were placards stating their individual rates.

They were also chatting and Frances frowned as she picked up a grumbling, “Here comes the bitch,” before she was greeted by eager smiles.

It was then that Frances noticed that Renia had a placard, though, it had been knocked askew. Without skipping a beat, the harpy walked over and straightened it.

“This is Frances Windwhistler. She’d like a woman who can talk,” said Renia. Her voice was slightly strained, but her tone was professional.

Frances smiled, glanced at the other women, most gave her sultry eyes. Others seemed more friendly, and had wide grins.

One glance at Renia made her realize that the harpy, her shoulders tense, her smile a little too-wide, was not desperate, but definitely nervous. Frances knew she didn’t know the whole situation, but other cues, like how the other men and women positioned themselves away from the harpy gave her an idea of what was going on.

Frances didn’t even have to consider.

“Renia, would you like to be my talking companion for the night?”

It was extremely satisfying to see the other hostesses blink or stare in surprise, for despite their extremely fast recovery, nobody could really hide an initial reaction. As for Renia, she looked extremely happy.

“Thank you, Frances.” Renia swallowed down her enthusiasm and resumed her professional demeanor. “You’ll have to pay that up front and a deposit if you decide to go further.”

“Of course,” said Frances, producing her bag and depositing the requisite amount of gold coins with the bouncer. She wasn’t sure what she was getting into, but she always did like to help people.