“Lay him out!” Nua barked the order, and two of her soldiers took him from his posture bent over prostrate in the mud, and set him on his back. She jumped off her horse and strode over to the young man and looked at him. Her feet squelched in blood churned mud, and she looked him over. He was young, his face was pale from blood loss, but it was easy to see why he was alive. “No wonder he lived.” She said out loud, and pointed to the wounds in his guts. “He fell bent forward, it slowed blood loss, and… it looks like he actually tried to pinch the wounds closed and stuff things in them to keep the blood inside the body. Not bad thinking, really.”

The boy was clearly completely out of it, his eyes were closed and breathing was shallow, Solution cantered her horse over to where Nua stood.

“Going to finish him?” She asked in a way that wasn’t a question.

“No, actually.” Nua said as she stroked her chin, “He’s not a bandit, he’s a villager.”

“What did I say about useless burdens, student?” Solution asked pointedly.

“Sure, but this might be useful. He lives here, I’ll bet he knows where we can find useful supplies to set an ambush, plus, he’s young, strong, and I’ll just bet he’ll die for revenge. And look at him. Two swords shoved in his guts, and he had the strength to still try to live, surviving till we got here. I’d say he’s earned a shot at least. If he dies fighting them when they get back… well so what?” Nua shrugged.

“Healing potion, now! I’ve got questions for this one.” Nua shouted, crouching down by the limp, nearly dead body and a moment later Vargas shoved one into her hand, and she dumped it over his wounds where it would act fastest.

The shallow breathing changed to regular almost immediately, but he didn’t wake up. Nua popped up to her feet adroitly, landing with a slight splattering of mud. “Prompt action Sergeant Vargas, good work. You may have a knack for this.”

“Thank you, Captain.” He looked down at the wounded man, and then slowly lowered himself to his knees. “Permission to speak freely, Captain Aiwenor?”

“Go ahead.” Nua said as she folded her hands behind her back and moved her eyes over her surroundings, paying him little mind beyond a single ear twitched slightly toward him.

“It’s strange, I lived in Komestra for years, joined their army as soon as I got there, but it just… always felt right to hold a sword and fight. I don’t remember much of anything before that, the last person I traveled with, the one who brought me this way, said they found me fallen on a battlefield far, far west of here. And I still get… flashes, you know, I must have been a soldier there, but…”

“But?” Nua asked curiously.

“I… well Captain, I… I hated you as soon as I saw you, because, after everything went wrong and I ended up in that cage, I thought I’d never wield a sword again, when you said discipline problems… I thought I was going to just be worked to death in the mines. You… let me be a soldier again. A slave soldier… but a soldier. I just… I wanted to say thank you for that. I won’t forget it. It might mean nothing coming from someone worth a handful of silvers in a bulk buy… but it means a lot to me to say it.” He lowered himself, and prostrated into the mud, heedless of the filth.

Nua crouched over him, and placed her right hand atop his head. “Raise your head, Sergeant Vargas.”

He did, lifting it slightly. She held her wounded right hand out to him with her palm up and spoke in the proud voice of a priestess of the one god, her eyes glowing golden as she addressed her slave. “Loyalty, Sergeant Vargas, always means something. I permit your submission.”

He cradled her hand in his, and placed his lips to the wounded palm.

“Thank you, Mistress… Captain… Aiwenor.” He said, and when she removed her hand, he began to rise at her gesture to do so.

“See to the wounded man, put him somewhere clean and dry, once the soldiers have checked everything, have them establish a camp outside the village in the direction we’ve come from. Something off the road, clear space into the forest a bit if you have to.”

“As you say, Captain!” He said enthusiastically.

“Damn right, now move it, Sergeant Elf Fucker.” Nua laughed at his blush as he rushed off to carry out her orders, snagging two or three of his people, they ripped off some planks and snagged some fallen rope, and bound an improvised stretcher together to carry him out of the village of the dead.

Solution looked somewhat disapproving, with her lips pursed into a sour, wrinkled expression, but she said nothing as she watched her student work.

Within an hour, they’d determined that there were no survivors, and that every scrap of food had been taken.

“Alright, I realize you’re all tired, but go back out the way you came in, and look for Sergeant Vargas, establish a camp under his direction, and when you’re done, I’ll give you a few hours rest, leave the bodies where they lay, we’re not going to disturb anything about this place yet.”

Her slaves followed her instructions, if somewhat wearily, they trudged out, and a half bowshot from the entry way into the village going North, the way they’d come in, they found him waiting. Nua remounted her horse and rode out with Solution. “They’re getting slightly better at this.” Nua said passively from beside her Teacher.

“I still don’t like that you spared that one. Smells like a burden.” She remarked with some annoyance.

“Shit is always unpleasant to carry around, but… useful things can grow out of it. He’s young, strong, and whatever impulse forced him to not give up for that long, loyalty, hatred, revenge… I say we should nurture it. He’s not broken, just injured. And as I said, if he dies, he dies and maybe he does something useful first. Either way, one more fighter can’t hurt.” Nua replied.

Behind them, birds landed again on corpses, pulling out eyeballs and pecking at slowly rotting flesh, flies buzzed madly, and Nua twitched her ear in annoyance to drive the ones away from her that came to close for her liking.

“Anyway, it’s fine, the call was mine and I made it. Just trust me, Teacher.” Nua added, and spurred her horse lightly so that she began to trot away and leave the dead village behind. Solution rolled her eyes and followed after her student, and together they watched as the twenty five of her slaves worked to cut an area open that they could use as an encampment.

Men and women shed sweat like mourners did tears, their limbs strained to uproot plants and they cut down trees as fast as they could, the sound of cracking and tearing and calls for assistance flew like commands on the battlefield, and within a two hour span, they’d created an area open enough for them to make camp. When she was satisfied, Nua turned to where Sergeant Vargas was assembling them together, and she gave her next set of orders. “Set up your tents, then take a break, eat, nap, whatever. When the break is over, you’re going to improve the camp a bit to prepare against bad weather, then you’re going to practice combat drills. Then you’re going to get started with the ambush site. You’ll be working in shifts at every task. You won’t have a lot of downtime, but if you blow this off or behave lazily, you’ll have all the downtime you’ll ever need.”

Looks of confusion were traded around at the bizarre threat that didn’t sound like a threat.

“Because you’ll die.” Nua clarified, narrowing her eyes and glaring at them as she added what she thought was obvious in a slow, dry tone. Many ‘ahhhs’ resounded, followed by grave ‘ohhs’.

Within thirty minutes, tents were erected and many soldiers were asleep, exhausted from the laborious march and the hard labor thereafter.

Nua however, took up a vigil beside the unconscious villager who lay on a covered board elevated above the mud by a few rocks set beneath the boards.

It was two hours before she saw his eyes start to flutter open.

Yorig looked up into beautiful blue eyes set in a gentle face, she hovered over him, and gave him a pleasant smile. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Ah… so I’m not in heaven, I’m not dead.” Yorig asked wearily.

“No, you’re very much alive, thanks to me. But..” She patted his cheek lightly, “Also thanks to your sheer stubbornness. You survived some impressively ugly wounds.”

“I… oh… right.” Yorig touched his hand to his head as the memories of the previous evening came back to him. “Nagru… Tenbu… they… my village! The village!” He tried to sit up, but Nua grabbed his shoulder with her left hand and slammed him back down with enough force to stun him.

“Too late. They’re dead. Everybody in there was murdered or died trying not to be murdered.” Nua said with icy calm, but then, her tone softened, “For what it’s worth… I’m very sorry for your loss. But who are Nagru and Tenbu, friends of yours?” She asked calmly, still hovering over him.

Yorig nodded to the elf woman in small, quick gestures, then shook his head with the same urgency as the nods a moment earlier.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Nua asked with a little frown.

“They were friends but they…they…” He started to cry, he covered his face with his hands and he wept. “We grew up together, we were… like brothers, and still… still they… their swords… in me.” He broke down for several minutes as sobs racked his body.

Nua placed her hand over his chest and let it rest there, he folded his hands over it and held it like a lifeline, neither uttered any real words for some time.

Finally he explained, “We were the last fighters, the three of us, he asked us to join him to replace what our village killed. I refused, they accepted, he had them kill me… he made… he made my friends kill me!” Yorig wailed in a rage.

“No, he didn’t. Your friends made a choice to do that because they were weak, afraid of Bracer, the man in charge. You and you alone showed courage enough to not betray your people. I promise you, not only did they choose to do that, but if their bodies are not in there, he also had him violate a surviving village woman or two. Whatever they were before… your friends are his bandits now.” Nua said sympathetically. He looked at her in horrified dismay.

“It’s common enough,” Nua explained, “I’ve seen it before, dealing with bandits in the west, they get somebody to cross every line they can, and then there’s no going back, they’re committed to the new group. Violating the girl you grew up next to? Yeah, that counts as crossing a big line. Your friends aren’t your friends, your friends are now your enemies, and they’re as guilty of killing your village as if they’d ridden in there with him to do just that.”

Yorig listened as the armored elf woman spoke, and when she was done talking, he let loose a keening cry that pulled at the heartstrings of even the Komestran slaves not far away as grief, already raw and fresh, had the wound of it cut even deeper by their owner.

Nua held his hand the whole time, but would not let him rise as she explained who she was and what she was doing, as well as who was responsible.

It had the desired effect, she watched his eyes still wet with tears, begin to burn with dark hatred and a lust for revenge. “Now, here is the question… sorry what is your name?” Nua asked patiently.

“Yorig.” He replied sharply as he held his eyes upward on her own.

“Alright, Yorig, the question then is this, since we know he’s going to come back this way, do you want to help us destroy his bandit group and kill your traitorous friends, or do you want me to just let you go wander off into the world alone somewhere and forget everything and everyone you ever knew, ever lived at all?” Nua asked him in the tranquil voice of a priestess.

She then lowered herself down, close to his ear, “If you want to go… I won’t keep you, if you’re afraid, you shouldn’t fight, we’ll do it for you, you can just go. Walk away, in a year, there’ll be nothing left of your home, and in a generation, nobody will remember they lived at all. Your former friends, you can just pretend they died, or assume we got them, what do you really need to ‘know’ they’re dead for anyway?”

“No… I… I want to fight! I can help you! I can help you fight them! I grew up here, I know my way around the forest, please… let me… stay.” He tried to rise, and she forced him down again before hovering over him.

‘That… is one strong elf woman.’ Yorig thought as he looked up into her face again.

Nua spoke with cold professional ferocity as she gave her answer. Her hand holding him fixed in place and leaving him nowhere to look but into her eyes. “I don’t take people less than committed. You think I’m going to just give you the means to fight and then let you run off afterward? Like I’m just going to give up food and time and whatever else? I already used an expensive potion on you, boy.” Nua pressed her right hand down over his heart, holding him in place. “I’m sympathetic, I am, but I have no time for anyone who isn’t going to give me their all. You swear your loyalty, for life, to me, or you get out and go away as soon as I let you up. Everything or nothing, I accept no middle ground among the Breakers.”

“Then… let me up, I have nothing… no one, I’m alone. No friends, family was there, so they’re almost certainly dead. Got nothing now just… you want my life, for life, it’s yours. Let me up from this board so I can submit to you. Use me as you like.” Yorig all but begged with his desperate plea.

Nua nodded, and slowly withdrew her hand from over his chest.

He rolled himself off the low platform they’d made for him, and went down on both knees. “Yorig of the dead village is your man, till he too is dead.” He lowered his head, and Nua placed her right hand atop his head.

“I don’t know much about oaths, but… is that good enough…?” He asked and then stopped.

“Captain Aiwenor, Captain Nua, Calen, Aiwenor.” She replied.

“Captain Aiwenor.” He finished, a mild blush forming at the embarrassment of forgetting to learn to whom he was speaking.

“Yes, that’ll do. A simple oath truly meant is always better than a complicated one that is made with intent to break it.” She answered him sagely, and then pointed to the village. “Go, get some things to make yourself an improvised kit, some weapons, if there’s some armor you can find, field stuff for camping, and so on. I’ll outfit you with one like the rest of the Breakers when we get to Pas’en after we kill your former friends.”

“Right away… Captain Aiwenor.” Yorig exclaimed as he rushed toward the village of the dead to scrounge up whatever he could.

Nua turned to where Solution watched, and her heart sang when her Teacher gave her a mild nod at approval, it prompted her to approach, and whisper with death cold breath into beautiful, pale ears framed by golden curls, “You’re not the only one, Teacher, who can twist a heart and soul into your service. Thank you, for all your lessons.”

Solution put her hand beneath Nua’s chin and tilted her face up and whispered intimately close, “You’re welcome, Nua.”

And Nua’s heart sang again as she heard her name from the lips of the monster she admired.