In the mind's eye, the last hour of the Siege of Essin looked like a Kurosawa's historical movie blended with a Westerner's peplum. Imagination was all Ryou had to rely on. He could hear a deep sustained booming sound that could be felt through the ground; the tromp of feet, the clash of weapons, war cries and screams and possibly cannon fire, all so blended by numbers and distance they formed a homogeneous background noise like an earthquake. But a kilometer away in a dell near the river, Ryou couldn't even see the city's tallest buildings.

The rear guard was composed of a few hundred men watching the dam, presumably to stop the defenders from making a sortie to destroy it and drown the troops invading them over the marshy ground where the forked river had flowed. Riders regularly came and went, stopping near a group of three men with plumed helmets. They didn't spread the information on how the day was going, though, so Ryou and the rest of the infantry were left in ignorance to listen to the noise of battle like continuous rolls of distant thunder.

The sun climbed higher. Ryou had kept Rand's cloak from yesterday and been thankful for it this morning, but now he let it drop off his shoulders onto the ground he was sitting on. His horse, phlegmatically cropping the grass, tried to eat it. Ryou pushed its muzzle away. He and his escort were a little off to one side, away from the river. The rest of the troop was also sitting down in small groups, shields propped against their backs. Only the men on the outer edges kept watch, patrolling. Some of the men laughed and joked, but most of them kept their eyes glued to the thickening palls of smoke on the other side of the hill.

A rider rode over the lip of the dell with a shout. A metallic rustle ran through the assembly as every man looked up and put a hand on their shields, helms or pieces of discarded armour.

The rider galloped up to the commanding officer. The leader of Ryou's little escort, who'd been introduced by Rand as Targuta, was instantly on his feet and then on his horse, trotting towards the officer corps.

As he got there, one of the plumed helmets turned and waved. A ragged cry erupted, men got to their feet, plucked their javelins out of the earth and slung on their shields. Ryou caught many grins of fierce anticipation as the troops streamed past him. Soldiers near the front of the lines shouted instructions which quickly got the men heading towards the hill at a rapid step in a phalanx of twenty men in three rows.

"Well?!" said one of Ryou's escort as their leader returned.

"Lucius got through like a breeze. They say some citizens of Essin helped a maniple over the wall to capture the gates. Did so on the promise that it would be General Terentius who would be in charge of the city's surrender and not Lord Ghan." Targuta was smirking.

His fellow Hound burst out laughing; Ryou had caught his name earlier as Opiashal, a small man with a tonsured head. "As if Lord Ghan cares about those eunuchs! He'll have thundered through their streets before they could finish saying 'mercy', heading straight for the fortress."

"It's given us the day either way," Targuta answered, looking back over the hill with an air of longing. "The citadel will fall now. But they'll be desperate, they'll fight Ghan and Meromeidon every step of the way. Lord of Thunder, how I wish..." He busied himself with the set of his reins without finishing that sentence or looking at Ryou.

"We can be at the border quickly enough if we ride hard," said Opiashal in a hopeful way.

"Rand the Khinite told me the odds of the passer having already returned were worse than tossing dice and getting nine," Targuta replied, a remark that wouldn't have made much sense to Ryou if he hadn't been watching the nearest group of soldiers tossing oblong stones and half-heartedly betting on the outcome for the last hour and change.

"Well-"

"And then we have to go to the palace in Aksum. You remember what it was like when we rode that way with Dela the Kush, and getting through those streets during the day."

Opiashal's face fell.

"Anyway, since it sounds like Essin surrendered, and we've not been here all that long, the General will put a seal of safety on the city by the time the fortress falls. No loot beyond tribute. And they'll have stashed the women in the temples as soon as the attack started."

"Fuck," muttered Opiashal as he turned to mount his horse.

"Shall we go now?" asked the third soldier who'd been mostly silent up until now. He didn't seem to care about Ryou, the war or the situation either way.

"Yes, let's move. Sezerena's troops won't be making any sorties now, they'll be too busy running from the Hounds." They were treating Ryou like a package. They weren't part of the party that had rescued Darius yesterday, they might not even know of hiscontribution, so that just made him the weirdo foreigner whose escort needs had inexplicably dragged them away from a much desired war. Ryou had been a little nonplussed at all this eagerness; patriotism was all well and good in his modern mind, but not as good as the chance of not getting a limb or a head chopped off. Targuta's mention of loot and women went some way in enlightening him, and chilling him as well. It was a very good thing he was not going to be seeing the end of Essin, one way or another.

He followed his escort as they rounded the hill and headed away from the city, leaving behind them a small group of twenty disgruntled men still guarding the dam. This was it, Ryou realized as they crossed swathes of thoroughly trampled fields; this was the first step on his journey home.

The nervous tension of the men around him all morning had distracted him, but now Ryou's mind broke the muzzle of his self-discipline and started chewing over his memories of the past two weeks. A sterile occupation, but it was that or watch the butt of Opiashal's horse ahead of him.

So the entire town had surrendered at the mere thought of Ghan the Beast rampaging through their streets. Ryou just couldn't square that away with the man he'd traveled with and who'd teased him, listened to Ryou's fairy tales and given him his shoes back in the Broken Lands...Not that these things necessarily had to match up. Darius had practically admitted, at different stages in their journey, that Ghan's reputation was exaggerated, a useful weaponin his arsenal. The citizens of Essin might have surrendered regardless of that incentive. A wind of liberation was blowing through these lands as the Imperium's hold weakened. Smart people would perceive that their ruler was backing the wrong horse and would try to get out of the situation without too much loss.

Hearsay and inflated reputations were not the way to tell how much of 'Ghan the Beast' was fact or fiction, and Ryou did not need such unreliable sources; no, he just needed to remember what happened to Yrmah yesterday. Ryou frowned as he remembered, sudden and jarring, the sight of finger stubs tumbling to the ground and the sound of summer rain...Good god, what had happened to that poor bastard anyway? Ryou's store of sympathy was rather short for the man who would have killed Darius and undoubtedly Ryou as well, but it was a fact that the prince of Kaides had or was soon going to be tortured for any information he might have, under Darius's orders.

...Ryou was fundamentally honest with himself, because he'd never had the capacity for fuzzy self-delusions. It was the sad, confounding truth that Yrmah's fate wasn't really horrifying him half as much as it should. His ethics were giving a few knee-jerk twitches, but when he thought of Darius, it was that curt dismissal that stuck most in his throat. Ryou had never thought of himself as a bad person before; he'd been a target for bullying for a variety of reasons, from his glasses and reserved nature to his intelligence, wealth and sexual orientation, so if someone had asked him this time last month, he'd have said he was a moral person who felt for those more unfortunate. Right, thought Ryou with an inner snort; I'm such a moral person that Darius chopping off someone's fingers weighs less than the fact he doesn't give a damn about me now that he's safe with his army again. At least I didn't sleep with him or I'd really feel used.

That thought hurt ten times more than it should, a sick sort of wretchedness that felt familiar, if out of place...

"Everything all right, sir?"

Ryou glanced up at Targuta who'd held his horse back a little until he was riding at Ryou's side. "I'm fine."

"We're climbing up to Essin's crossing." Targuta gestured at the path ahead which had started to slope upwards shortly after leaving Essin's surrounding fields, and which was getting steeper. Essin was situated in a large river valley with hills rising on either side. The crossing was automatically nearby, since provincial or country capitals were always built as close as was feasible to their source of international commerce and travel. Zaratusra in his wisdom had placed the Essin border up on a hilly pass at the end of Targuta's pointing finger, and so that was where they were going.

"If the passer is back, and the Paths are favorable, we'll have you in Aksum city within hours, and set up in proper rooms by the evening." Targuta was taking his exclusion from the war with dutiful philosophy and was now making sure the package was alright.

"I see." And since it was well past time he got his head out of its cloud of misery and into constructively planning his return home, Ryou added, "What are we to do in Aksum exactly? Darius mentioned the King would help me deal with the Per Gathas. Do you have some kind of letter of introduction?" He doubted that his business card would do the trick, even though he still had a few along with his wallet tied to his belt in a leather pouch.

Targuta gave him an odd look, and Opiashal, riding point up ahead, glanced back with a frown.

"Rand the Khinite gave us a sealed tablet for Mlimar Par Saer, our emissary in Aksum. We're to contact him and wait," said Targuta.

"I see. I'm sorry to be an imposition on you," Ryou added.

This simple phrase, which Ryou would have expected hours ago if the positions were reversed, plunged his small escort into silent confusion.

"Um, that’s okay, we have our orders," Targuta finally said.

"I know. Thank you for your protection. I'll be traveling on much further than Aksum, but I think Darius only asked you to-"

"Hey," said Opiashal, twisting around in his saddle. But before he could say more, Tartuga barked "Eyes front!"

"Who's Darius?" asked the third man behind Ryou.

Opiashal had been turning away with a scowl on his face, but that got him twisting around again so fast that Ryou would have fallen if he'd attempted the same manoeuvre. "Don't you start!"

"Shut up, both of you," snapped Targuta.

Ryou glanced at the members of his escort. "Did I say something wrong?"

Targuta's diplomatic hesitation said as much as the set of Opiashal's shoulders up ahead.

"I understand you were the one who warned Dionysodoros and Jexen about Lord Ghan's arrival yesterday. You were traveling together, right?"

"That's right."

"You see, uh..." Targuta seemed to be fishing for a way to say something. "Our commander's name is Lord Ghan."

"I see," said Ryou, drawing his own conclusions from facts and Targuta's constipated attitude.

"He's talking about Lord Ghan?" The third soldier wasn't very quick on the uptake. "Is Darius his name?"

"Shut the fuck up, Cregan," said Opiashal without turning around, his shoulder blades still reading Ryou the riot act.

"Whether it's his name or not is not the point," said Targuta, leaping on the occasion to lecture his underling and thus avoiding having to do so with Ryou directly. Ryou's position in the Assyrian political spectrum must still be a total mystery to these grunts. "He's called Lord Ghan for a good reason and that's the name we fight for."

Because Darius Bher Polenius, with its reminder of illegitimacy and half Roman descent, was probably not good enough for King Leyam's half brother, Ryou surmised. He was a bit annoyed with himself that it’d taken him this long to even wonder why the man he’d known as Darius was going around as Lord Ghan in the first place.

"But is Darius his name?" asked Cregan with the persistence of a mule.

Targuta seemed to be having an internal debate. Finally he nodded shortly. "Yunder was with the search party yesterday, and he asked Dionysodoros afterwards. Dionysodoros was pretty sure that was right, though he wasn't going to swear to it, and he has no business to. There are only two people alive who would use Lord Ghan's name, and that's King Leyam and Rand the Khinite, who's earned that right years ago."

A kernel of silence formed around the party, digesting the fact that Ryou was still alive and well after shouting Darius's real name over half of Essin province. Targuta looked even more constipated and glared at Opiashal up ahead as if this was all his fault.

Clop-clop-clop went their horses' hooves up the paved road, the animals huffing as the ascent got steeper. The path was well-maintained despite leading straight up into the hills. This was a road of commerce to other countries via the crossing perched somewhere above their heads. Ryou's mind paralleled their course, rising above the fruitless circling he'd been indulging in. The bit about Leyam had blotted out the rest to start with, but now the whole import of Rand's last words were coming back to him. Darius Bher Polenius...Rand, whoever he was - Ryou still hadn't figured that out - was not the kind of man to say things accidentally. That'd been a lot of information in that parting shot, as if Rand had thought it important that Ryou should know about it even though he was leaving and would never see Darius again. The mysterious man had even given him Darius's name back; his real name, the one even his Hounds did not know. Darius Bher Polenius.

A breeze caressed his hair...Just call me Darius...

Memories, intimate and intense, twisted up in his chest and fell on him like a blow. No, worse. That was what felt so familiar about this leaden, desperate feeling inside, this near-panic that could go nowhere. It was The Blow That Hadn't Landed...

At thirteen, Ryou had been the golden child, the eldest son. He'd never had to struggle to achieve; manners, scholastic merit, discipline, they all came to him naturally. He was the pride of his strict yet esteemed parents, and Ryou had completely taken all of that for granted until he'd fallen in love with the housekeeper's son, a boy two years his senior, and Ryou's father had found out.

The most frightening thing in retrospect was how Ryou had been so single-mindedly infatuated that it never even occurred to him how his parents would react. He and the other boy had kept it a secret because that only made it sweeter, more intense. Adult Ryou could only conclude that the hormones common to that phase of life had driven him temporarily insane. Though it was true he'd still been a child back then, and children do not think much about consequences, or wonder if their parents' love is conditional...

His father had convoked him to his study. President Ujiie Tsukasa had looked at his rows of books on corporate law rather than at his son while he lectured the latter on restraint, responsibility and why someone with Ryou's future would do well to grow up quickly and forget about these childish ventures.

In the midst of mortification and panic, Ryou had felt his heart freeze. "Are- are you asking me to break up with him?"

His father had turned around as if he could not believe his ears. "Are you mad? Of course you're going to break- to cease this puerile distraction of yours."

For the first time - for the last time - in his life, something unexpected had surged through Ryou, and the unmeasured words came out in a rush. "But- but you can't make me do that! I love him!"

Up to that point his father had registered only mild distaste at his heir going through an adolescent crisis and getting stuck on someone of the same gender vastly beneath him in social status. But at those words, his eyes had gone round, his jaw slack. Ryou had never talked back to him before, much less raised his voice. There could only be one result. His father's hand had whipped up-

...It'd stayed poised there, an aborted gesture that could not measure up to the infraction. Fingers slowly curled into a loose fist as self-control returned. But the look of disillusionment and disgust on his father's face made Ryou stagger back as if the blow had actually landed.

His father had slipped his hand back into the sleeve of his yukata as if he did not want it contaminated. "You-..." he had to take a breath, as well as several steps away. "You. Get out. We will never talk about this again."

They never had.

The other boy had been made to apologize in front of everybody, including his own mother, for his inappropriate behaviour and his bad influence over the son of the household. Ryou had not looked at him, he'd stood staring straight ahead, expressionless. It was the only thing he could do to protect him. His father had been watching, and he could do more than not strike a blow. The housekeeper had had no other choice but to hand in her resignation, but Ryou's mother - who was also Very Disappointed, as his father had made sure he was aware - found her another position. Yet there was always a conditional flavor to the arrangement in Ryou’s perception...Tokyo's upper families were closely connected. A rumor here, a word of advice there, a single phone call from Ryou's father, would do it. Ryou had been weak, and now his father was making sure his heir would have the incentive to strip this weakness out. If not, further punishment would be required to teach him the price of failure. Ryou understood this, the logic of it, and he would be damned if the boy and his mother were further harmed as a consequence of his failures; it was much more effective than punishing Ryou himself, and his father knew it. So president Ujiie watched his heir for any sign of a relapse, and Ryou showed nothing. That was where it came from. 'Show them nothing' was only an extension of it. Show Him Nothing. That was when it'd started.

He'd never seen the other boy again, which was only for the best. He probably hated Ryou, and the only reason he didn't come over and punch him was because Ryou's father would have made sure the housekeeper would never find work again if anything to remind him of this episode ever happened. Ryou had forced himself to move far beyond that childhood stumble lest it trip him up again. It'd sunk so deep into the depths of his mind that to this day he could no longer remember the name of his first crush, or even what the boy looked like...

Damn it, why was he thinking about this now? Removing his glasses, Ryou rubbed his face hard with his good hand. His horse chose this moment to shift its shoulders, he nearly dropped his glasses as he made a one-handed grab for the saddle girth to keep from falling. After stuffing his glasses back on, he looked around. They were climbing steeply, and the ridge of the pass between two hills was in sight. They would soon be at the crossing.

The knowledge that he would soon be out of this situation of danger and churning emotions should have brought nothing but relief to Ryou. It failed to do so. If anything, his chest tightened and his heart felt like it was caught in a clamp. But he had no more choice now than he did back when he was thirteen. He was going back to his dutiful life again. And at least this time there was nobody injured in the process but himself.