There was a fire in Mildrith's gut, twisting her insides into knots. She hardly had the strength to walk and would have fallen by now if not for a tonic dulling her senses.

Walking was painful. Breathing was misery. Taking a piss had been one of the greatest ordeals in Mildrith's life, and still, Tanya wouldn't let her rest after being stabbed with her own fucking sword.

The little slave driver was actually smiling. But of course, she was. She got in to see Brand while Mildrth was so drunk on pain she assumed Bitarr tended to her wounds.

Four years and the one chance Mildrith had to see him was lost. Even had she been lucid, the foul magic the Dreyarks place on Brand had him running off once again.

Still, Mildrith's envy was overwhelming.

With a rush of magic, Tanya blew in the doors in her path. Behind them, was a parade of colors. Earthbreakers wore their sigil on dark brown robes and tunics while the Damascus house nobles were draped in silver chains, swords, rings, and as much metal as they could to signify their family. The stormr household made up most of the nobles and wore blues and all kinds.

The first to catch Mildrith’s eye was Eret Earhtbreaker who shouted at another noble while pounding his fist on maps spread about. He was thickly muscled with a braided white beard looking much more like a cultivator despite him being a well-known mage. The Tower, as he was known, was always on the frontlines crushing his enemies with a rocky fist while surrounded by stone like a golem towering 40 feet as the stories were told.

By her gray and black hair and robe of various blues, no one could mistake Norma Stormr as Eret berated her and she shouted back at the man in turn. The woman was a walking disaster, able to sink entire fleets in storms that rained hail and lightning without end.

But the two legends of the battle didn't concern Tanya. Mildrith could almost feel her gaze pierce through the crowd to land on a man sitting at the head of the massive table spanning the room. Her throne without question as this fortress was still in her territory.

“Who the fuck is sitting on my throne!” Tanya boomed above the cacophony of the arguing crowd. She jumped onto the long table growling, claws bared and looking unafraid moved forward.

Mildrith knew better of course, but Tanya would never back down, never show weakness, so she and Carr trailed behind her ready for a fight, or heavy-handed postering more than likely. But Tanya faltered for the briefest instance when they saw Godric, king of Gridania, was the noble offering such disrespect.

The king raised his palms patting the air and smiling as if his actions were in jest. “Hold on. I was just keeping it warm for you.”

Tanya pointed a finger at Godric that crackled with lightning, not a hint of their friendship in her voice. “Well, it's plenty warm enough.”

Godric’s smile only grew as he stood and made his way over to the only beast kin in the room, not in Tanya’s own guard. They were all armed and armored and headed by Marla, Godric’s sister, who wasn't in the robes Mildrith had seen the woman while in the Hall.

Her shoulders were bare and hands only wrapped in bright red cloth. The woman’s chest was covered in chainmail and leather like some kind of rogue. Her hair was short, muscles defined, it was like she’d become someone else in the years they’d been apart.

****

Tanya couldn't look at Godric. She’d smile if she did because the man had saved her. If he hadn't taken her throne, someone else would have. It would have been a challenge, one she couldn’t let pass.

If it had been Eret or Norma, her position would have been untenable. She couldn't cow The Tower or the Weather Witch, not without an all-out battle she couldn't hope to win. Even amongst the apex magi of Vellia, they were an order of magnitude more dangerous. But Tanya was still the regent of these lands so they answered to her.

There were still more nobles of note. A Damascus noble known for impaling dozens on the battlefield with their own weapons a dozen men at a time. An earthbreaker skilled in forming magma geysers. Powerful individuals were everywhere, but Tanya only had dealings with Eret, Norma, and Godric, the commanders of the coming war.

“I thought you'd be taller,” Tanya said.

“And I thought you'd be more of a prim and proper lady,'' Eret replied. “Good. Proper ladies are terrible at war.”

Tanya could hear Norma's heart race at the misdirected insult, but she remained unmoved.

“When do we attack the north?” Norman asked, all business.

“Let's attack today,” Eret said with a laugh. “With an army of werebeast we hold every advantage.”

“I have an army of werebeast,” Godric corrected. “And they're not matching anywhere without a plan.”

“We don't attack,” Tanya said. “Ragnar would cut any force you send to pieces.”

Norma scoffed. “With me and The Tower, surly we’ll be able to-”

“Both of you wouldn't stand a chance,'” Tanya said, cutting the weather witch off. “If you were enough to kill him, I'd already have taken the north myself.”

“Then what are we supposed to do about him?” Godric asked.

“Well,” Tanya said. Her eyes drifted to stare at nothing. A scent had been following her right as she made it to the King’s Road. “Do you have a plan?”

Nadia appeared in what had looked like an empty chair looking ready for battle. Every inch of the woman was covered in armor save the tattooed skin of her lower jaw. The symbols were the catalyst for her magic, giving her the power to control one's mind with a single word.

“Ragnar will be a problem,” Nadai said. “But one we can handle.”

A score of men came into existence, dozens filling the chamber. Each was different in height and build. They were men, women. Jotnar, humans, and fey mixed about them holding every weapon from swords to magic staffs. They were a small army that had snuck into the most guarded chamber of the fortress without Tanya or her guest having seen a thing.