A week after the retreat from Eynond, most of the Imperial Army gathered near a grouping of small cities on the western bank of the Cersomin River, the grand waterway flowing north to south over a span of well over one thousand miles into the heart of Gadisia and then down into the sea. The largest of the cities, a settlement of some 21,000 called Bendehlt, served as a temporary headquarters while the Emperor and his chief commanders decided how to proceed for the remainder of the year.

Empress Evinda consulted with Lohs and Matriarch Yldrina on their candid assessment of the army's morale. She felt that Grand Marshal Agrehn and his subordinates, including Marshal Kordov, had their merits but their handle on the ordinary men was tenuous, at best. The Karmandian Matriarch and the former merchant seemed to have a far better sense of such things. She chose to meet with both of them in a small white stone shrine to Forynda near the center of the cramped city.

"Well," Lohs began as they talked in the chilly corridors of the shrine, flanked by a detachment of Solnahtern, "I think they're actually holding up fairly well, given that all we've done is retreat for the past few months. This isn't as bad as the situation during our retreat from Methrangia, if you can believe that."

"That required us to attack just to keep the faith, you'll remember," Evinda raised an eyebrow at the shrunken old man. "And that had costs."

"Yes, I remember. I was one of the ones who suggested it and I still think it was a good idea," Lohs pushed back against her glum tone. "I think the stand at Eynond was successful in its goals. It bled Duronaht's armies terribly and proved that we can hold out for our allies."

Matriarch Yldrina's bulging eyes stuck out even further than normal and she tugged at Evinda's robes with her small wrinkled hands.

"Aberos's assurances about Gadisia, Varanan, Bohruum, and even Osilintis do seem to have bought us some time. In my ministries to the soldiers, they're mentioning the arrival of our new friends. Oh yes. And I've seen it myself," she trailed off in a wispy, crackling voice. "Glimpses of our allies fighting alongside us, yes. I've seen it."

Evinda forced a smile and nodded at both Lohs and Yldrina.

"I don't know Aberos well, but if you have faith in him, then so do I," the Empress said. "Simel speaks so cryptically of Aberos that I sometimes wonder if he's not telling me something, but then again..."

"Simel's always cryptic," Lohs coughed. "The angels all have their eccentricities and I've just learned to accept that by now."

"Mm. Good point," Evinda mumbled and chuckled.

Yldrina let out a dry hacking cough and grabbed the Empress by the hand.

"Have faith that our soldiers are with you, the Emperor, and the High Angel. I'd tell you immediately if I ever feared anything else," the Matriarch said, her sunken and wrinkled lips forming a kind smile.

"I pray that we're all right about that. It's the most important thing that we can't ever seem to control," Evinda yawned, scratching at her left eyebrow. "I suppose I just find some things hard to take on faith after how many troops abandoned us after the Nehal River."

"Ah, well," Lohs laughed, "that was different for obvious reasons."

Yldrina shot the Emperor's aged advisor a cutting glance at the vague criticism of the High Angel's destruction of Zarmand. Evinda saw that as a fine enough opportunity to take her leave and wished the two a good day before returning to the stout governor's mansion in the city center. As was customary, it was temporarily offered to the Emperor and his retinue as a gift for his visit. There was a warm, well-appointed parlor in the mansion's center that provided a refuge from the increasingly harsh winds and Evinda had almost immediate grown fond of it.

As she wearily sat on a plush chair before the fire, she heard harsh clicks on the stone floor behind her. She gasped as she turned and saw the glowering visage of Commander Dastov, who hadn't even bothered to clean the mud spackled on the bottom of his cape before seeing her.

"Your Imperial Majesty, might I have a moment of your time?" Dastov's voice, dry and raspy, grated against her ears.

Sighing, she nodded and rubbed her head, trying to feign a headache to pressure the spymaster to cut short his requests.

"While I suffered numerous losses during the withdrawal from Eynond among the mages I trained, which was of course to be expected, there were two in particular whose whereabouts I've tried to ascertain to find out if they were killed, captured, or simply deserted," he rushed through his words as if he were annoyed by the preliminaries. "And I know that you might be wondering why I care so much about two of them given that we suffered at least twenty-three thousand losses that morning."

"Yes, I do," she quickly interjected. "It seems awfully trivial."

"Let me assure Your Imperial Majesty that. It. Is. Not," he continued, his tone turning biting. "These two, especially one of them, were the most gifted in our entire army, perhaps in the world, in wielding the Silver Aura and they always had their reservations about serving in your husband's army. They'd been trained by Nethron himself before I found them and I think were trying to further everything Nethron wished to do the whole time they were under my supervision."

"I take from your emphasis that you don't think they were killed, but rather that they deserted?" Evinda inquired, squinting her eyes.

Dastov cleared his throat with several coughs and straightened his posture, placing his cane before him and placing both hands atop it.

"The uniform of one of my most trusted subordinates, Captain Erdinov, was discovered near Wegrahn Village by one of my men, along with a pile of remains consistent with someone killed by the Silver Aura. I know that you probably wonder how we can be so sure, but I assure you that my men and I are aware of such things," the spymaster said pompously.

"So, these two men killed one of your officers as well as deserted your command?" Evinda queried.

"That's correct."

"And what are you asking, exactly? Surely you don't need me to provide some seal of approval for hunting down deserters and murderers," Evinda lightly chuckled.

Frowning, Dastov tapped his cane against the floor several times and pressed his lips.

"For this purpose and others emerging now, I feel that I could be of the greatest service behind enemy lines hunting down the Emperor's most serious threats," Dastov implored, motioning eastward. "This war will soon devolve into a damn bloody mess without firm boundaries anyway. Surely you must see that. I'd be getting out ahead of the inevitable."

Evinda shrugged and looked toward the fire in the hearth at the room's center to give herself relief from Dastov's intense gaze.

"All of this sounds personal to you, Commander. This war won't be won via personal vendettas. You can hunt those two men down, along with any other deserters who seem like a threat, but you're staying with the main army," Evinda instructed, turning back toward Dastov. "Can't very well have our top spy be somewhere we can't readily reach him. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Dastov grimaced. "Be aware, you're choosing to make a mistake."

Suppressing her irritation at his impertinence, Evinda rose from her chair and glared at him.

"You seem to be forgetting something, commander. My husband is Emperor and I am Empress. In our empire, that means we and we alone have the right to make what you consider to be mistakes," she boomed. "You made a request and it's been rejected."

With a quick perfunctory bow, Dastov turned and swiftly departed the room, his cane's clicks echoing in the halls. Evinda sat back down and rubbed her eyes.

Some of these men... Evinda lamented. They'd all be tyrants if they could be.

~

Grand Marshal Vildrious examined the ruins of Eynond along with the other commanders, including his predecessor, Marshal Sygnaht Ventov. Ventov, despite his shortcomings when he led the full army at the Battle of the Nehal River, had proved himself an able field commander during the attack that coincided with Rohmhelt's withdrawal on the northern flank. He avoided the calamitous results that befell Marshal Avoret on the western flank along the Walsan River at any rate. That was good enough to earn Vildrious's thanks.

"Right, again, do you really think that there are adequate winter quarters for the army here?" Vildrious grumbled as he looked upon the shattered and charred stone that littered the ground for the better part of two miles. As if to emphasize the pressing need for such accommodations, a stiff wind blasted him at that moment, causing his body to shake from the cold.

"The men can repurpose the stone and turn it into barracks for at least one hundred thousand men," Ventov confidently answered in a high and rapid clip. He leapt atop one of the large pieces of stone that had been blasted into what had apparently once been a fountain. Vildrious envied the thin and spritely Ventov's energies. The Grand Marshal felt like a plodding slug that day after days of wretchedly poor sleep.

"Right," Vildrious muttered. "Problem is that we need lodgings for four fold that number. Now, I suppose we could lean on Omonrel and the others to provide that."

"My thoughts exactly!" Ventov chirped and jumped down from the rubble.

Vildrious nodded and then coughed into his hand, trying to clear up the residue of some modest illness that had been dogging him for days.

"I'll tell the Emperor we have this settled and that I'm recommending you for leading the project," Vildrious half-smiled. It was a simple enough gesture to keep Ventov as an ally and had the benefit of giving him an avenue for blame should it fail.

"I'm honored to have your confidence!" Ventov exclaimed. "I'll get started straight away."

Vildrious then made for Emperor Duronaht's command tent west of the city, accompanied by small detachment of guards. After the Eynond campaign, most of the soldiers and officers in the army were happy to just mill about for some much needed rest. He knew that Emperor Duronaht hadn't been happy with the army's languid stance after the battle, but it couldn't be helped. There was a risk of a mutiny with any further marching.

Another restless soul was that of Myrvaness, whose strange mostly ethereal form manifested in front of him on his trek to speak with the Emperor. There were slightly more wisps of her body now whirling around her spiritual form than just after her battle with Simel, a fact which he lamented. He had taken such satisfaction in seeing her humbled by a fellow angel. I guess that wasn't going to last, he thought. It was nice at the time.

"You truly mean to not pursue your enemies?" her echoing voice boomed out of her mouth, which was barely attached to anything else around the yellow glowing ghostly form at her core. "Is this cowardice or laziness?"

"The men need rest," Vildrious answered defiantly, glancing behind him to gauge the guards' reactions. "Armies can only fight and march so much before they're spent."

"Such weakness," Myrvaness growled. "But I already knew that."

"Right," he awkwardly replied. He then made a vague motion to the swirling mix of her spiritual and physical forms. "Now, it seems like you would benefit from rest yourself."

"This is not much of a constraint," she in a tone as biting as the encroaching winter's chill.

"Regardless, we aren't marching at this time."

Her ethereal form flickered in a tempestuous pattern before settling.

"Very well," she grumbled and floated away.

Vildrious breathed a relieved sigh and proceeded into Emperor Duronaht's command tent. The Emperor paced back and forth in front of the map table, holding a piece of parchment behind him.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Vildrious announced his presence. "I've come to..."

"Ah, yes. The winter quarters issue," Duronaht interjected, glancing at the Grand Marshal and then back to the map table, which was littered with markers depicting the position of the troops. "I've decided that this is a perfectly fine place to mend our army and consolidate our gains before the next stage of our offensive, which obviously is to go for Karmand itself. Brother's in no position to attack us and I think most of his army might just blow away during the winter. We can point to so many gains and victories. What does he have?"

Recalling the ferocity of the resistance he encountered at Eynond, Vildrious almost wanted to argue with his Emperor, but there was little point. Duronaht's fantasies seemed to keep his energies up, which was better than when he would become sullen and indecisive. It was a harmless enough diversion.

"Right, though these things are unpredictable. If Your Imperial Majesty had asked me at the beginning of this year how this would all proceed, I wouldn't have predicted any of it," Vildrious offered.

"Hah! Nor I," Duronaht laughed and ran his hand, still loosely holding the parchment, through his thick blue green hair. "Anyway, you'll be in charge here for most of the winter. I'm going to Methrangia to be with the Empress and the Crown Prince."

The Grand Marshal's heart leapt in his throat.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I'm flattered by the confidence you're placing in me, but..."

"This isn't up for negotiation and you don't need to know my reasons," Duronaht talked over him. "Though part of it will also to try to get that lazy bastard Elaous to do something other than just sit in Methrangia and pretend he's protecting it. Omonrel says I shouldn't doubt him, but I think I can be persuasive anyway. I want everything committed for our big push as soon as the snows melt, and that includes Elaous. Now that Aberos has decided to take up alongside the rest of them, we'll need everything. Everything."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Vildrious was unsure what more he could add.

"In any case, we're moving along expeditiously with winter facilities for our army. Marshal Ventov is leading the effort in Eynond itself and I'll..."

"By the way," Duronaht interrupted, jutting his hand upward, "I was very impressed by Ventov last week. I haven't had the chance to speak to him, but give him my thanks. That almost made me... Never mind."

Vildrious ran cold. It was all too obvious what the Emperor wanted to say and the Grand Marshal didn't believe it was an accident. It couldn't have been.

"Was that all, Vildrious?" Duronaht asked with a smirk.

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," he answered. "Thank you."

Vildrious left the tent, sighing and fidgeting with his hands behind his back. He motioned to his guards to escort him back to his own command tent for a reprieve from the annoyances of the day.

Maybe a winter offensive will be necessary, after a fashion, he mused. Something to keep Ventov occupied. Something difficult and not rewarding. I'm sure something will present itself.

~

As Rohmhelt's army settled into its winter quarters along the Cersomin River Valley, the snows began to fall earlier than expected. Lyfress and her father, Cesord, always loved watching the first winter snows together when she was young, but this winter was more a source of solemnity than celebration. Both heavily bundled in their winter garments, they stood on a small hillock near their encampment and gazed out to the east, toward Eynond, Gulnholn, and Methrangia. In that single year, she had traveled more than she had in her entire life up to that point. The shock of it all had left her with almost no time to truly miss her birth village. At least not until that point.

"Have you heard from mother?" she asked her father, who stared into the falling snows.

"She's well. The whole family is, actually," he said wistfully. "What I've always loved about Gulnholn is that it's too small for anyone to truly care what happens to it, and so it was always likely to be left alone."

Lyfress smiled at that nice thought.

"And now we're almost certainly going to move further and further away from it," she mumbled.

"For now," he said with a wince, "but I have faith we'll be back."

She noticed Simel's presence floating just behind both of them and wondered how long the Mind Angel had been there. His ordinarily haggard face looked gaunter than usual while his wiry black hair flapped in the wind along with his dark robes. While her father jolted at the surprise, she found it reassuring.

"You are correct you will travel still farther from your home," Simel said softly, his voice barely cutting above the winter winds. Snowflakes fell into his metallic eyes and melted, creating a watery sheen that afternoon. "Of that there is no doubt."

Cesord nodded and resumed looking eastward. Lyfress, however, looked to his hands, which had only started returning after Myrvaness severed them in the battle for Eynond. They were translucent and patchy, almost resembling leaves mostly consumed by insects. As such, his glowing spiritual form was plainly visible in each hand.

"When you did what you did during the battle," Lyfress started, drawing a sluggish glance from the angel, "I saw something of your mind. It was..."

"Sad?" Simel softly interrupted her. Surprised, she nodded. "When I was tasked with helping design the mortal mind, I confess that I relied much upon our own. As you have seen my kind, you might understand why I wish every day that I had made your minds less like ours and more like something else entirely."

"You needn't apologize," she said weakly.

"I must," he murmured. "And now we have the great irony that Gorondos, who set so much of all of this in motion in the first place, has learned from mortals how to further fuel his powers beyond anything we have ever seen before. This augurs poorly for the world."

"Surely it's not possible that he gained powers from studying mortals. It's not possible, is it?" Cesord turned and asked. His face winced when a frigid wintry gust struck him. "No one knows the Auras more than the angels, or at least that's how I've always thought of it."

Simel glanced at Cesord and then down to his own hands as they slowly mended.

"It is not so simple," the Mind Angel said. "My kind is nothing even approaching omnipotent. That much should be clear. We all developed bonds with the Auras as we understood them, but that understanding was imperfect. Mortals, collectively, have such active and curious minds that I must believe it was inevitable a discovery of this sort would occur. It falls to me to better understand it."

"That's why you're here, right now," Lyfress gasped. "You're trying to learn from us?!"

The angel languidly nodded.

"The tides carrying us all are truly strange and bewildering," he said, his voice becoming nearly lyrical. "And we have scarcely begun."