Damien parted ways with his sister and her squad and headed toward the sorcerers’ tents. As he walked he considered how best to approach whoever was in charge. He’d be polite but firm. Damien wanted to help and he had the power to make a difference.

The six blue-dyed tents looked pretty near identical to those used by the rest of the army. Unfortunately that made it hard to figure out which one was the command tent. A dark-haired girl in her mid twenties with no visible soul force dressed in a dark-blue tunic and pants left one of the tents.

Damien sighed and jogged after her. “Excuse me.”

The sorcerer turned back to face him. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for the commander. Can you help me out?”

“Who are you?” Her gray eyes narrowed. “I haven’t seen you around camp.”

“Sorry, I’m Damien St. Cloud. I arrived with my sister an hour ago. General Kord sent me to check in.”

Her narrow eyes went wide. “You killed the demon. I didn’t realize you’d been assigned here. The commander’s tent is there.” She pointed at a tent a little ways down the row. It had a plaque with a black tower carved on it above the flap. How had he missed that?

“Thanks.” He left the gaping sorcerer where she stood and jogged over to the command tent.

Some tents had a board outside for visitors to knock on, but not this one. He shrugged, brushed the flap open, and ducked inside. A pale woman with white-blond hair sat at a table with two male sorcerers. The woman looked like the master that had served as Sig’s second in their duel. They fell silent and looked up at Damien.

“Hi. I’m Damien St. Cloud. General Kord sent me to check in.”

The men muttered amongst themselves and he picked out the words demon slayer. Was that the first thing everyone he met would say? The woman hissed and the men fell silent. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I thought I could help. I’ve fought with my sister’s squad before and we did good work. This seemed like an opportunity to do that again.”

The woman’s pale lips turned down in a frown. “My sister spoke of you. You embarrassed my lord’s son in a duel. For that insult alone I should send you back to the tower.”

“I saved Sig’s life,” Damien said. Annoyed by the woman’s attitude he went on. “He thought he knew how to fight. With his meager skills he was liable to get killed in a real fight. I showed him the truth. Where’s the insult in that?”

She stood up; the woman was easily as tall as Jen, with a slender, boyish figure. “You have no mentor and no place here.”

Damien walked deeper into the tent. If she thought he’d just walk away on her say-so she’d miscalculated. “I don’t have a mentor because none of the more experienced sorcerers have the guts to take on an apprentice more powerful than them. I’ve been sitting on my hands for four months waiting to find someone with the stones to work with me. Now there’s a war on and you want me to go home and sit around some more?”

She stepped around the table and soul force gathered around her. “What do you think you can do that we can’t?”

Damien gathered his own power, enough to make the tent shake. “Nothing, but since when is having an extra set of hands a bad thing in war? I’m not planning to sit around camp getting in your way. I’m going out with my sister in the morning. Just pretend you never saw me. Every ogre I kill is one less for you to deal with.”

She spun away from him and released her power. “Do what you will. I don’t care.” She dismissed him with the back of her hand.

Damien reclaimed his power, bowed to her back, and left.