Day after day it was the same. Veema, Lenah, and Straen would watch as Vargas trained privately with Freyjin, and every day the beautiful blonde elf was beaten to a bloody pulp.

“Will to power…” It was a phrase they had begun to hear from her, muttered at first, then spoken more clearly. “Again!” Freyjin coughed up blood with her demand, and wiped it away with the back of her fist. She swept it down to the floor while Vargas took position.

She charged as soon as the tip of his sword touched the floor, and was on him faster than the last time, her battle roar hit the walls and met his silence. He seldom shouted in the first place, and now barely made any noise at all.

His eyes were hard and cold and vicious, and Freyjin found, ‘I like those eyes…’ It made her press him harder. His wrist caught hers when she overextended, her beautiful blue eyes were becoming like steel, and to his surprise, her free hand caught the wrist that took hers. [Lesser Strength]. She twisted her wrist toward the span between his thumb and forefinger, breaking through at the weakest point and then attempting to yank his wrist up and throw him off guard.

[Breaking Blow]. He hit her full in the chest with the fist that clutched his practice sword, sending her flying backward, bouncing several times off the floor, until she smashed into the wall.

Three little heads stared dumbfounded at the Sergeant, but no less so than the Sergeant stared dumbfounded down at his own fist.

Freyjin was shaking herself in a daze, but was slowly standing up, at first it seemed she was about to charge, her body had resumed a sprinter’s stance, ready to take advantage of her speed. She, however, stopped.

Sergeant Vargas was clutching his head and making small moaning noises, his eyes were clenched tight as a vice, his sword dropped away from his hand and fell with a clatter to the sweat and blood soaked floor of the training room.

“Sergeant Vargas…?” Freyjin asked, approaching him slowly and raising out a worried hand.

He however, heard nothing.

…

“Stop her! They’re going to break through! If we can just get this one thing done, we can stop the whole war!” Vargas heard the words shouted, echoing as if in a distant place. He saw others in his memory, dressed like himself, men in black, charging toward them with howls of bloodlust, a terrifying bow cutting down those he knew before it was stowed and a sword of enchanted adamantite cut through people and metal as if they were the same substance.

‘I was supposed to kill her… right… right… we were supposed to kill the Demon of the west… who were we… Holocaust… right… the demon was freeing the slaves… freeing…’

He blinked hard as his memories came back to him with the use of one of the martial arts of their speciality. “Elves…” He whispered, and Freyjin twitched her ears with worry.

“Yes… two of us here are elves… are you alright, Vargas…? Freyjin asked and crouched down in front of him where he’d fallen to one knee.

He batted her hand away sharply. “I’m fine! I just… I remember… I remember everything.”

Freyjin yanked her hand back at the mild rebuking strike.

“That’s… good, isn’t it?” Freyjin slowly stood and took a step back.

He looked up at her, the twitching elven ears, the collar around her throat, her daughter… ‘free, and I’m not…’

“No… well… yes…” Confusion swept through him. “We’re done for the day… elf. I… need to go… elf. I n-need to go.” He half stammered and half spat, holding his head as the pain still ran through it.

“Oh- ah- sure, yes. Go ahead.” Freyjin replied, and exclaimed loudly at her friend’s back, “I hope you feel better… and in case that did a number on your present… the name is Freyjin… Sergeant Elf Fucker!” She cast the joke his way, causing him to briefly freeze, but contrary to expectation, not laugh before he went on.

“Well… I guess that’s that. How would you three like a try? Gently, of course.” Freyjin asked and pointed to the wooden swords on the opposite wall.

“We can?” Veema asked, biting her lip.

Lenah and Straen didn’t wait for confirmation, they were already walking over, leaving Veema to rush to catch up at her mother’s approving nod.

“Not knowing how to use one of these,” she touched the wooden surface, “won’t make you immune to the pointy end, and if you want to have power, you’d better know how to take it. Maybe the mistress was more right than I knew…” The thought faded as the girls lined up, and a very sore Freyjin demonstrated the first position.

Diana lay with General Yanlim for the better part of an hour, even after he was too drained to demonstrate his martial vigor any longer. She stroked his chest and kissed his cheek and moved her strong thighs up and down his own, every little touch designed to keep him lazy and happy in the aftermath on the soft grass, surrounded by the glowing fireflies that let them see one another in the deepening darkness.

“Are you well, General?” She asked pleasantly as she noticed that he was staring up at the stars in the night sky instead of at her.

“Yes, I was just thinking how odd this is for me.” He replied passively.

Diana tilted her chin and gave a silvery laugh, “I’m sure a general and warrior like you has a harem full of women like me, you’re too good at what we just did for you to be an innocent. Only practice makes perfect, no matter how quick a study you are.” She giggled, only for him to laugh along with her and stroke her bare back.

“No, not really, it is true, I am no innocent… but my cousin has always needed my support, and so I have never had time to even take a proper wife. His father died earlier than expected, and he had to take the throne before he was truly ready. Still, we’ve made his rule work. We prosper, we won, we took…” He trailed off, recalling the place she called home.

“Yes, you took my home…” Diana whispered into his ear, “Undid everything I ever worked for… sent me to an uncertain fate…” She whispered each word, but put her hand to his cheek and turned him to face her. “But that is how things are… it could have been you as easily as Sado if he hadn’t been too much himself.”

“You’re… alright?” He asked and touched her cheek.

“I’m a Komestran woman, there are none like us in all the world.” Diana replied proudly, “We have a saying, you can sheath a sword, but not put back the blood you’ve spilled. We always find a way to make a place for ourselves. We live boldly, die bravely, and always find our way, no matter where we are… or what you do with us, or to us. We are greater than our pains.”

The General didn’t argue with her assertion, then he couldn’t, as she’d kissed him, covering her lips and drawing his tongue past his and hers alike.

They did not make love again, but she made sure he could not bear to break her touch from his skin for quite some time. “Do you think your mistress would assign you to this city?”

Diana knew when to be exact and direct, and she was that way in that moment. “You want to see me again, don’t you… General Yanlim?” She gave him a teasing wink as she rose to her feet. And then extended her hand to him as he had done with her before.

“What if I do?” He asked with a shrug.

“It was safe for us to play tonight… leader of men… but if you make a habit of this with me here, well, you’ll have to take responsibility to my mistress.” She tittered a little and laid a hand over her belly to make a point, before reaching for her clothing.

“Maybe… it wouldn’t be a problem for me to do that.” He said before he caught his own words.

Diana paused while dressing and looked at him frankly. “You say that, but you know what I cost, I can’t imagine her releasing me, or allowing me to go so long without working for her… but… I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you again in private… where we can both forget together…” She raised her chin as her dressing finished, the bronze around her throat glowed in the light of the fireflies.

“That would be… welcome.” He said, his eyes turning away from the bronze as if he didn’t want to know it was there.

She helped him to dress, and they left the garden as one. “Assuming Sado approves, I will stay here one more night after tomorrow’s gathering… I will meet you at this grove again, if that is what you want…” She looked at him coyly, and went up the stairs before parting ways.

Diana returned to her room alone, and found within, exactly what she expected.

Prince Yanmelu was waiting in a chair in the corner by her bed, a lit candle burned over halfway down, told her how long he’d been waiting, his hands were folded together in front of him, his elbows on the armrests of the chair, and he was without clothing.

“Get over here, Diana of Komestra.” He ordered. “And take that off.”

“Sir… you’re my host… I’m not… I…” Her feet were moving regardless of her words, but she did not remove her dress.

“Where were you?” He interrupted with a glare that was made more fierce by the candlelight.

“In… in the garden, I encountered your cousin… we… well…” She blushed as she came close to him.

“Give me the same.” He ordered her.

“Sire… I am a guest… even a slave, when a guest is…” She tried to say before he cut her off.

“I am not yours.” Diana replied abruptly, “And I am a guest, is this how the Prince of Hanak’sen treats his guests… treats the possessions of nobles… and what would your cousin say…?”

Prince Yanmelu shot to his feet and grabbed the shoulder of her dress and yanked her toward him, tearing a part of it.

She fell in the direction he’d pulled her, and she had only to adjust herself a little to fall toward the desk. When she hit, it hurt in spite of her control. The thud was loud, and the Prince stared for a long moment.

Diana remained limp as if she’d lost consciousness.

“Stupid…” He muttered. “Never should have insulted my pride…” She heard him breathing faster and hastily getting dressed.

She listened while he blew out the candle and left her alone on the floor in the dark.

Several minutes passed before she was sure he was well and truly gone. ‘He probably thinks he killed me, that I’ll be found dead in the morning and it will have just been an accidental fall. Well, at least this way I didn’t have to sleep with that one…’ She got up and stretched, then touched the mark above her eye, a bloody streak ran through the golden eyebrow, but otherwise she felt no injury.

“Next step.” She smiled in the darkness, and went to inform the Prince of Dreams.

Lodira saw no need to speak against Anton’s characterization of her time with Albaer. ‘He wouldn’t believe me anyway, that I loved the old man… I have no right to say that anyway… after all, it’s my fault Albaer died. If he hadn’t been distracted, if he hadn’t gone to help me…’ Her thoughts trailed off and she kept them to herself when she got into the carriage, she kept them to herself when they rode through the streets, under his mix of a lustful and hateful glare. She kept them to herself when they pulled up to a small nondescript building that was unique only in that it had two wagons beside it and its own pathway leading to the city road.

“Get out.” The new Steward of her father’s house ordered brusquely. Lodira complied, and as she went for the door, he muttered, “I honestly expected more trouble than this from what the Count said…”

“What did he say?” Lodira asked, and cursed herself for doing so as if he mattered to her.

“Never mind.” He replied, she caught the faintly red face, and shrugged it off as he exited behind her.

They went to the privately owned merchant building and ascended the sixteen steps of stone to a single door on the cube shaped structure. Lodira reached for the handle herself and drew it open, allowing the young Steward to enter, she followed when he took her to the counter.

Like every room in Shog’nai, it was simple, just like every building, every scrap of clothing, everything. The counter was simple, finished wood, it had a simple double half door that opened at both the upper and lower halves to allow entry to the back from the front area, while keeping the counter unbreaking otherwise, from one wall to the other.

The man behind the counter wore no collar, he was a stuffy looking middle aged man in a simple gray shirt and gray pants. He was neatly shaved and not yet old enough for wrinkles. ‘A little work, and he wouldn’t look half bad.’ Lodira contemplated critically while he and the Steward traded words and the folded paper was handed over.

The clerk leaned to one side and got a better look at Lodira in her simple skin baring camisk, with her long flowing hair and supple frame, full lips, and sparkling hazel eyes. ‘Got you.’ She thought immediately.

“...So she’ll handle her own negotiations, simply send the coin to the house of Count Valoisin. She is of noble birth, though not of my master’s house. She goes by the name…” He looked down at the document in his hand, “Tir.”

“Tir? Never heard that name, sounds like something from farther east.” The clerk muttered indifferently and accepted the document.

“Don’t ask me,” the Steward replied, “it’s not my job to care.”

‘Tir’ moved to one side and stepped forward, she let her starlike eyes sparkle as she leaned forward toward the clerk, her delicate hand touched his chest, turned up, and traced its way up his stuffy and suddenly stiff body until her fingers were delicately resting beneath his chin. She whispered in a throaty voice, “It doesn’t matter where I’m from, it matters to Lur’gin what I’m worth. Now… take me back to your office, and let me show you.” She almost laughed at the pathetic eagerness with which she stripped away his reticence and rushed for the door to let her back into the area and retreated to his private work room.

The contempt of Albaer’s nephew burned hot on the back of her head, while she followed the clerk beyond a door that closed behind her, with only the sound of his footsteps retreating beyond. ‘If I never return to this graveyard of a city…’ She thought as she reached out for her prey.

Within a few minutes, had he the wealth of a city, he’d have traded away half of it for her to keep going.

By the hour’s end, she had him leaning over his desk, and while her hands and fingers continued their plying work he was scrawling the ugliest and most shaky handed signature of his life on a sale of gold coins just on her promise that she would finish what she’d begun.

She kept her word, leaving him to collapse to his knees, the addled fog of his brain did not immediately lift, but she knew it would. He would be thinking clearly, and it would be too late. Still, Tir felt a moment’s pity for him having to explain himself to his superiors at such a supremely high expense for a single person.

Tir gave him an indulgent smile, and laid down her coup de grace to keep him motivated in the way that she wanted. “I know, I’m not someone you’d ever want to sell here in Shog’nai, goodness your reputation… if people in this city could be as I just made you?” She kept the roll of her eyes back from displaying, but she felt it nonetheless. ‘Never their fault, is it?’ She cast off the thought, and continued, “But if you put me on the wagon to Pas’en, or one of the other cities, I’m sure the investment will be recouped many times over.”

The lifting fog on his panicked face as she mentioned his reputation, it was enough to make her laugh, but she kept it as a seductive smile and reached over for her camisk. When it was secured again, he reached into the desk, and took out a collar of silver.

“Most… get simple leather, but you cost far too much for that.” He said with a hand that still shook while holding it, his lingering look was almost awestruck when she went down to her knees, cast her head forward, and let him affix it around her neck.

‘This should guarantee I get somewhere… better.’ Tir contemplated as the latch snapped into place, and her freedom was gone.

When she finally stopped, Nua set the child down. She was small, a little chubby from being fed heavily but never exercised. She had wide, innocent hazel eyes and long fine very dark blue hair. She had uncommonly pale skin, and looked around her with terror and dismay.

Nua crouched and put both hands on the naked little girl’s shoulders. “Can you speak?” She asked as gently as she could.

The child nodded numbly, but looked around her far more than she looked at the elf that carried her.

“Have you never seen anything like this before?” Nua asked, again very gently.

The little girl shook her head, shuffling her feet around on the grass, at first it seemed anxious, but then her face began to light up as she shuffled them faster and faster.

“Do you know what this is?” Nua asked and reached down to touch the green grass.

The mute child that claimed the powers of speech, shook her head and put a finger in her own mouth and started to chew, more like a nervous gesture than any intent of harm, so Nua allowed it to pass as the little one continued to look down at the mysterious green carpet.

“Grass. That is what we call it… do you have a name?” Nua pressed, her right hand slowly stroking down the girl’s soft arm.

A tiny set of rapid nods answered Nua’s question.

“Can I hear it?” Nua tried a smile, the corners of her mouth turning up only a little.

“Number Four.” The little girl replied in her high pitched voice. “Are… Are Number twenty-four and twenty-five coming…?”

“Who are those…?” Nua furrowed her brow and thought the matter over.

“They’re my breeding pair.” She replied quietly and looked back the way they’d come.

“Oh…” Nua muttered and shut her eyes, ‘Have I done something terrible, or good, or… I can’t even tell?’ The slender elven assassin pondered the question and had no answers.

“Now listen to me…” Nua said in a very quiet voice, “We can talk about that later, Number Four. But for now, I need you to understand that this may be very dangerous, I’m going to take you somewhere safe, I know you’ll have a great many questions, but you need to save them until I tell you it is safe, do you understand?”

Number Four looked at her through innocent hazel eyes that said she understood very little of what Nua had just explained. She neither nodded nor shook her head.

Nua briefly hung her head and exhaled in exaggeration. “OK, listen, do you have a quiet time, where there is no noise allowed?”

Number Four nodded. “Uh huh, Crawlmaker says it’s night when he sits in the chair by the door.”

“Crawlmaker?” Nua cocked her head.

She nodded, “He’s the one that makes the matings go during the day, then makes us all be quiet at night, he hits the noisy ones.” Number Four described it all as if she were describing yesterday’s dress, and Nua’s skin crawled.

“OK, listen, this is your quiet time now, and it goes until I tell you it’s alright to talk again. Do you understand?” Nua asked very slowly, in a kind of sing song voice that felt quite unnatural to her, but which evidently did the trick.

“Ok.” The little girl nodded, and closed her lips very tightly.

“Good. Very good.” Nua said, and picked her up again.

‘Yersin, apply some of your mana to me, I need to be able to run without stopping.’ Nua gave the order, and her partner was quick to reply.

‘After gorging on all of that? I’m happy to!’ He began to dissolve part of his world, and Nua felt the mana flow into her body.

[Endurance of Unlife], she uttered, and took up Number Four into her arms again. “Hold on to me.” Nua said in an authoritative voice. She felt the girl begin to cling with her meager strength, and began to run.

Her legs pumped as if she had gone mad from desperation, and the ground blurred beneath her feet. The Elf woman’s knife slapped at her side over and over, tapping out the pace of her run. She had a grimace on her face, that she was glad the little Number Four could not see, as she ran as fast as she could to leave the Tlalmok Empire at her back, while nurturing a seed of hatred in her heart the likes of which she thought she would never, ever feel again, until that hour.