"These soldiers Lady Evinda sent aren't much good, are they?" Selyn chuckled as she walked along the rows of freshly slain men from Rohmhelt's armies. Most had been killed in combat, though others were slain when trying to surrender. The stench of the newly dead was inescapable, but she made no effort to avoid it. No, instead she breathed it in deeply. It reminded her of the delightful odor of a freshly slaughtered pig. "Pity that we haven't kept more alive now that we have a few of Jagreth's creations with us."

Commander Cintov, walking alongside her with his helmet removed, didn't say anything in response. He was actually a very handsome man with a good square jaw, ample hair, and otherwise even features. Not at all what she pictured when he had his black plumed helmet on and he fumbled his words when under her examination in the middle of a battle.

"Cintov, you're being quiet and I don't like that," she admonished him. "You should be proud. This has opened up the path to Adrenyk Manor itself. We're almost there."

"Yes, my lady," he said, his voice locked in a somber tone. "It's just that we lost over five hundred men ourselves."

She shrugged as she glanced across the field where her own dead were being piled for burning.

"A price that had to be paid. Every victory has a cost," she said dispassionately. "It seems to me we got the better of the engagement, no?"

"That's true, my lady," Cintov mumbled and nodded. "We count at least fourteen hundred enemy dead."

"Is that all this is? Hm," she sneered at the rows of corpses on either side. "Then again, making such guesses isn't my strong suit. We'll have to do better next time."

She and Cintov completed their tour of the blood-soaked battlefield and returned to the main camp largely in silence, with Cintov giving her the occasional dry military observation of the situation. Once back at the camp, she saw her husband, Lord Wemnaht Kedholn and their two young children, Antyla and Jenaron, standing in front of her tent. Lord Wemnaht, for being the purely ceremonial lord, played the part well enough. With a green, gold, and black robe that fit his slender frame, he had the look of an aristocrat. His fine, even delicate, features somehow perfectly fit his name. Her two children, by contrast, took almost entirely after her with striking dark hair and eyes.

"I see we're close to winning," Wemnaht said, his high and squeaky voice grating on Selyn's ears. "I thought the children should see what their mother's doing for their future."

"It's very thoughtful of you," she said with a wry smile. Taking off her gauntlets and tying them behind her back onto her belt, she bent down to look into both of her children's eyes. "What've you seen so far today?"

Antyla and Jenaron, aged seven and five, respectively, glanced at each other in silence, trying to sort out which would respond.

"Lots of dead people," Antyla said after a brief pause. Her voice was high and sweet, not matching the content of what she just said at all. "Were they all your enemies, mother?"

"Most of them," she laughed, pinching her daughter's cheek. "I think about three out of four. The others helped me."

"It smells out here," Jenaron grimaced. "I don't like it."

"That's the smell of victory, my boy," Selyn replied, her eyebrows raised. "Men smell when they die, but there's something very gratifying about it. A finality, I suppose."

Just then, the big pile of her own dead went up in a blaze, sending into the air a pillar of gray smoke. She put one hand of each of her children's shoulders and turned them about to face the bonfire.

"That's how we're honoring our dead," she said, dropping to a more serious tone. "Our enemies? We'll just leave them out in the field to rot. Beasts and bugs will take their flesh and bones. They're much more use to us being reclaimed by the earth than anything else they'll do."

"Well, the bones can have purposes if ground down, but I get your point," Wemnaht forced a laugh as he looked at the immolating corpse mound. He took his eyes off it for a second to look to his wife. "Are you heading straight for Adrenyk Manor?"

"We won't delay for long. You want to know if you should take the children back home for their safety, I take it?"

"That was my thought," he said, anxiously biting his lips.

"I don't think there's any real danger at this point, but I suppose so," she assented. Selyn looked at each of her children and flashed a smile. "After all, you're not only the future of our house, but you're the future of this entire world. I'll see to that."

While neither Antyla nor Jenaron understood what she meant, she hoped that repeating it enough would cause it to sink in eventually. Her own mother had instilled notions in her mind through the same sort of repetition and it seemed a fine enough idea to try on those two.

Shortly after her children left, she rode her trusted black horse to a newly captured hillock in view of Adrenyk Manor. The sprawling white stone estate had a high wall encompassing several acres of tall grass and fruit tree orchards, which appeared to house the bulk of the remaining enemy forces. They had very few skirmishing troops outside the walls to protect against encirclement. Selyn could scarcely believe what she was seeing.

"Commander Cintov, I know we discussed doing this tomorrow, but why not ride the current wave?" she mischievously floated. "Circle around behind and block their retreat. Wheel up the ballistae and catapults and begin the bombardment tonight. With how badly they're fighting, I think we storm them the instant we punch a hole in those walls."

"The men are very tired," Cintov protested. "Despite our victory, that was a hard battle."

"Tujiv's forces will be in an even worse position," she countered. "The fought, too, and they're demoralized. In any case, I'm not actually asking. I'm ordering you. See that it gets done. I want the first shots hitting their walls just after sundown."

"It'll be a..." Cintov started, and then he bit his lip. "I shall see it done, my lady."

When Selyn returned to the position just before the sun set, she smiled at the sight of twenty siege engines arrayed against Adrenyk Manor. The crews cheered her arrival, as did the regiments of troops arrayed for the order to assault. Commander Cintov sat joylessly atop his horse seemingly disappointed in his men for encouraging this endeavor.

"Well, good evening!" she declared joyously, riding her horse at a brisk gallop in front of the men, most of whom raised their weapons in reverence. "I know I've asked a lot of you today, but I feel good about our chances to close out this campaign with a single strike tonight. You're exhausted, but so are they. And they're beaten! Beaten! Those sad little shits don't have it in them to continue on. One more push. Just one more! And this will all be over!"

The men erupted in cheers, some clanging their swords and spears against their shields while the siege engine crews rapidly readied their shots for her order. Bucking her horse onto its hind legs, she raised her arm into the air.

"Loose everything you've got, boys!" she called out to them and swiped her arm downward.

All of the engines sounded out with a series of THWUNKS and hurled their flaming shots over the field and into the walls. Some missed and sailed over, striking the enemy camps, which was fortuitous in its own right. Just don't damage the manor itself. I should very much like to have it to myself, she mused. Those shots that hit the walls knocked stone slabs loose and the fires began undoing the mortar holding it all together.

Trumpets sounded within the enemy lines to rally the men. They were answered with another volley of the siege engines, this time nearly every one hitting the walls squarely. With the raging fires illuminating the damage, Selyn saw that the walls were almost down in three places already.

"Must not have had very good masons, eh, Cintov?" she laughed.

"Apparently not, my lady," he mumbled.

"You sound so sad, Cintov. Do try to shape up, at least for the men's sake," she scolded him as a third volley of the siege engines' shots sailed over the field.

She turned her head to watch them strike at the walls. With crashes, blasts, and crunches, the three widening holes in the walls became fully open.

"Alright, now shoot only over the walls," she commanded to the crews. "Give our men some cover."

"Yes, my lady!" the captain of the catapult nearest her shouted.

"Sound the charge," she ordered the trumpeters who always followed closely behind her during a battle.

Brassy blasts echoed into the night and captains across the line thrusted their swords into the air, offering shouts of encouragement to their men. These were met with thunderous cheers from the soldiers and in a perfectly coordinated rush, they stormed forward into the burning gaps in the wall.

"This is very reckless," Cintov grumbled. "If it doesn't work, our casualties will be awful."

"And if it does work, the campaign will be over tonight," she gritted her teeth, refusing to even look at her griping subordinate.

As her men approached, they were met with concentrated fire from crossbowmen in front of each gap in the wall. Dozens fell. But they kept charging. Another volley thinned them out some more. But she had no doubt they'd keep charging. They burst through the smoldering fires in all three gaps and poured into the estate's grounds. With support from the siege engines disrupting the enemy's ability to form up, resistance crumbled quickly. She wondered how it was that, after all she had done in the campaign up to that point, these fools would still try to surrender.

There was one person she was interested in capturing, however: Evinda's brother, Tujiv. Within minutes of the soldiers storming Adrenyk Manor, a runner, covered in soot and blood, came back to her amidst the cheers from her men inside the manor.

"We captured the traitor queen's brother!" the messenger declared, his face gripped with ecstasy.

"Very good. Bring him here," she laughed. "The manor's no longer his. He's trespasser."

When Tujiv was brought before her, he was in his maroon bathrobe, his glorious white hair disheveled, and his red-skinned face speckled with dirt and blood. She'd never met him before, but had always heard he was very handsome. Seeing him in person, though, she was far from impressed. She dismounted her horse and strode up to him while he knelt and cried.

"I see you weren't ready for me, Tujiv," she laughed. "That's very rude for a nobleman."

"You're such a fucking monster," he spat, his milky white eyes glancing up at her. "Just kill me already."

"Oh no. Oh no. No. No. No. Keeping you as my little pet is of far greater use in dealing with your sister," Selyn quipped. "I don't know what I'll get out of it yet, if I'm honest, but I'm sure you're better alive."

Tujiv looked at her with palpable disgust. She just stood there and absorbed it, waiting for him to come up with at least some manner of response.

"My sister will never give you anything for me. Never," he struggled to speak, but ultimately managed to get that much out.

"I'm sorry for you, then, because I'll have you bottled up for a long time," she said with impish glee. "Men, take him back to the camp. We'll figure out exactly what to do with him tomorrow morning."

He was lifted off his feet by the two soldiers who brought him there without saying another word. Selyn, meanwhile, strode down toward the wall where her men were throwing a raucous celebration to mark the ultimate conquest of the entire campaign. She stood on a big slab of stone not far from one of the gaps and raised her hands to command the attention fo her men.

"At last, it's done!" she shouted, jutting her arms skyward in triumph. She drew a thunderous cheer from the thousands of men on all sides of her. "Tonight, have at the wine cellars below the manor. I hear the Adrenyks have enough for all of you!"

That promise caused laughs and cheers from the assembled men and it was only a modest exaggeration. The cellars of Adrenyk Manor were rumored to have five thousand wine bottles, enough for all of her forces to have at least a swig or two, though not enough for them all to get drunk.

"When we march back home tomorrow, I want to see you swaying and stumbling. That's how I'll know you celebrated the right way! Now have at it!" she encouraged them once more and stepped off the stone slab to deafening cheers of her name.

When she returned to the siege engines and her horse, she saw Commander Cintov glowering by himself as he read and folded up a note handed to him by a messenger who immediately sped away.

"What's your problem now, Cintov? Wife left you?" she joked as she swung back up onto her horse.

"No, just something... tedious," he mumbled and put the note into a pouch on his belt. "From the main army. They want to know when we can rejoin them."

"Pft," she scoffed. "I guess soon, if they really want to know, but that's no fun. We have other things to do around here. Oh well, let's head back to camp. I'm actually fairly sleepy now and I'll be able to sleep the best I have in months."

Once back in her command tent, Selyn took off her sword belt and placed it on simple folding rack near the tent's entrance. Then she took off her plate armor and boots all in just a few fluid motions. Down to just a simple black and gold gown, she blew out the lantern hanging in her tent and slid into the cozy padded sack she used for sleep during the campaign. It wasn't the most glorious thing, but she found it earned her respect from the men for not being pampered and it was a small sacrifice for that added loyalty.

After the campaign over which she presided, that loyalty would run deeper. That was clear from how the men responded to her that evening. All of that was far easier than I thought it'd be, she mused. Maybe Tujiv was just that incompetent.

She dozed off to the sounds of a peaceful camp since most of the men were preoccupied ransacking Adrenyk Manor. The sounds of plate-clad soldiers clanking past on patrols periodically woke her, but not for long.

After some time, something else roused her: The sound of the heavy cloth flaps to the tent's entrance opening. A figure stepped in with a lantern held out and a sword drawn at their side. Her heart jumped up into her throat. Her own sword was ten feet away and she was in no position at all to get it.

"Who goes there?! I'm trying to get some sleep!" she tried bluster, still hoping that it wasn't actually a threat despite her every instinct otherwise.

The figure moved the lantern slightly to the side to better reveal their face. Cintov. He grasped his sword more tightly and stepped forward. Suddenly, so much more made sense to her.

"Of course it'd be you," she let out a nervous chuckle. "You know, you made it obvious in the last few days."

"It doesn't matter what you think. You'll be dead," he dryly riposted, taking another step forward.

She could sense every ounce of his caution. He was scared she might have something more than she appeared to have. That much was clear. He had thought this through. And he was right.

Reaching out her hands, she summoned forth a dark pulse that then wrapped around Cintov's arms and legs in the form of shadowy tendrils, contorting his position and utterly immobilizing him. He tried extending his arm to swipe his sword at her, but nothing happened. Just his grip became slightly looser.

"H...how?" he asked gasping for air as the tendrils locked almost every inch of his body into place.

"I kept my dabbling in the Abyssal Aura quite hidden from all of you. Simple matter of trust, really," she said, circling him as she renewed the bonds that had shackled him. "You as a leader, bad as you might've been, have to appreciate that much."

There was no response at first. Then he managed to struggle his mouth open.

"You'll never..." he started, but she shouted over him.

"Oh, but I will!" she bellowed as she kicked his sword out of his hand. "You'll be so long dead by then, Cintov, I don't think I'll remember your name. Why should I, after all? You've always been such a pile of useless garbage."

She funneled her growing rage into her tendrils, causing them to burst open with a sort of purple flame. Cintov screamed as it seared his flesh and caused chunks of it to fall upon the ground. The skin on his face became leathery and then melted off altogether, his eyes following his skin into a sickening pile of goo on the ground while his now-exposed skeleton crumpled into a heap of bones.

That's a shame. I had hoped it would be slower. He always wasted my time. I would've liked to have returned the favor.

Once his remains were more fully situated, she retrieved from his body the folded note he had tried to hide from her earlier. There was no cryptography with this missive. It was a straightforward command "on behalf of the Empress" to strike a devastating blow against House Kedholn by killing her. Based on the familiar language, it was plain he'd been an agent for some time.

Oh, Evinda. That was a mistake, Selyn vowed. A big fucking mistake.

She stormed out of the tent and made for the iron enclosure where Tujiv was being held. She pointed a long dagger she brought along with her at the two guards standing watch over Evinda's brother.

"Look away if you have a weak stomach," she said. "And let me in."

One of the guards awkwardly unlocked the heavy door and showed her in to where Tujiv sat tied to a wooden stake in the grassy ground. She fumed just looking at him. Thinking of Evinda giving a casual order to have her killed by a traitor was too much. It was the fact she would rely on someone as pathetic as Cintov that bothered Selyn most of all.

"What're... what're you going to do?" Tujiv squeaked as he looked at the blade.

"Your sister tried to have me killed just now by one of my own commanders. Such foul business deserves a suitable response," she seethed and walked behind him. "I don't see why you need both ears."

She lunged forward and gripped his left ear with her left hand and swiftly drove her dagger down along his head, severing it in a quick swipe. He screamed and thrashed his arms and legs. She circled back around to face him, still holding his left ear in her hand. Tujiv cried so much that has face glistened with his tears.

"Hmm... Left ear gone. Let's have some balance now," she laughed and stabbed into his right eye with the point of her dagger. He screamed horribly as she twisted the knife and yanked it out, taking his whole eye with it. His wails grew so loud his voice cracked and blood flowed down from his eye socket into his mouth as he continued to scream. "I think that'll send the message."

She walked out of the enclosure, Tujiv still shrieking and howling.

"Have him looked after," she said with icy malice. "I need him to be alive in case I decide to take anything more."

"Yes, my lady," one of the guards answered.

She looked down at the dagger with Tujiv's eye still adorning its tip and also at his left ear in her hand.

"Now, Evinda, I'd love to see your face when you see these."