"Have you ever been to Mount Hetras, Lord Feradnor?" Drogef asked, pointing to the great mountain and its constant bright flow of orange lava on the far horizon to their right.

"That all depends on what you mean by 'been to'," Feradnor joked as he climbed over a patch of smooth black rocks flecked with green streaks. "I'd say it was about as close as this."

As a group of six blue-skinned Caylanchan soldiers followed behind them, Feradnor stared at the towering peak of the mountain while it oozed that haunting fiery lava without cease. It had been as constant as anything Feradnor knew. He wasn't even sure when, if ever, Mount Hetras last fell silent. He remembered the last time he had gone north to treat with Bohruum, though. This juncture in his path was the very closest point he had come to the mountain and it was still at least thirty miles away.

"You're missing out on an experience, yahno? I've been to the peak. Six mile climb," Drogef proudly declared. "Many die trying."

"I suppose it's something of a rite of passage in these parts," Feradnor commented, looking at the rocky highlands all around him. "You probably don't think I could make it, do you?"

"No," Drogef tersely replied, his heavy dark eyebrows rising as he turned his head to the former lord. "You would die."

"Thanks for confirming my suspicion," Feradnor laughed.

"But you've lost weight since I last saw you, yahno?" the Vedous guide shrugged. "Maybe you could make it with a little effort."

Feradnor feigned blushing at the compliment. It was true enough about his weight, though. He'd slimmed down a great deal while working tirelessly to arrange for the simultaneous secession of so many of the north central cities and their surrounding areas.

Unsurprisingly, some had resisted and instead threw in with Governor Madarious and the loyalist core in the area centered to the south around Rafnious. Warden Seraka immediately moved his rebel troops into those noncompliant territories, most of which laid between Hokatan and the Odekan Highlands. Feradnor considered it a blessing that most surrendered without any violence. Still, Rafnious stood as a mighty redoubt guarding the loyalist south.

He hoped that he could convince King Rogaf IV to avoid rampaging through the newly independent lands with similar ease. Bohruumites, large fur covered creatures that they were, had one of the best opportunities in centuries to meaningfully expand their lands and would have their blood up. Even if King Rogaf remembered their encounter from years earlier, and if that counted for anything, it was far from clear that Feradnor could use that prior relationship to any effect at all. Mayor Vatho and Warden Seraka, however, were eager to try anything that might work.

"We don't have a choice, yahno?" Seraka had said before Feradnor left Hokatan. "You're our only plausible link. Otherwise, we just have to throw ourselves at their mercy when they get here."

And when the Bohruumite horde would get there was sooner than anyone thought. After several days of heading north from Hokatan, Drogef and Feradnor received word that the Bohruumites had taken the fortress city of Togorion, which rested some seventy miles south of the Segrison Marche and was considered one of the most secure places in the Empire. Glancing at a map he carried with him, Feradnor reasoned that the next likely target would be the city of Acondious and the surrounding line of forts that controlled the lowlands of the eponymous Acondious Province. From their position gazing at Mount Hetras to the southeast, it would be a four-day trek and that was if they were moving fast.

"There's going to be a battle there," Feradnor commented as he explained the situation to Drogef. "I don't see how they can avoid it. And it doesn't seem like Duronaht's army here has any intention of folding up."

"You say this as though it's a problem," Drogef sighed, adjusting the heavy pack on his back. "We just wait out the battle and talk to King Rogaf afterwards."

"Acondious might be a tough nut to crack. It's not Togorion, but I'd be shocked if a battle there could be won in less than a week," the former lord mused. He rubbed his thumb over the nubs that had once been the fingers of his left hand. "And, no, I don't have any special insights about it that we could pass along to help Bohruum. Zarmand I could have but that doesn't count for much anymore. Rafnious I can, too. Acondious? I don't really remember what it looks like."

"Well, it so happens that I do," Drogef chuckled, squinting at Feradnor. "I am from the far north, yahno?"

Feradnor nodded, but had never put together the connection to Acondious. The city itself was approximately three quarters Vedous by ethnicity. And if the core Vedous homelands in the highlands and mountains were all in revolt, that might play into their hands for a swift end to resistance. This region of the Empire had always been one he only knew much about in theory and the theory was shallow. It never concerned him nearly as much as the happenings of the wealthier and far more populous south.

"Do you have relations or any friends in Acondious?" Feradnor asked his guide.

Drogef stroked his stubble and wiggled his huge hands to equivocate.

"Relations? No. Friends? I suppose, in their own way. What do you have in mind?" he inquired.

"When we camp for the night, we can talk it out," Ferdanor said.

"You can't do it right now?"

"No, I need time to think first," Feradnor laughed. "When I know what I'm planning, you'll be the first one to know."

Over the next few days, while they approached Acondious, Feradnor kept revising his thinking as the highlands descended into a less barren environment where short spindly yellow-leafed trees and dark grasses thrived instead of just endless rocks. His basic plan stayed the same. They would either have to get around the Imperial army as it was positioned in and around Acondious or they would have to try to sneak past it and meet up with the Bohruumite forces and hope they would welcome an unsolicited approach.

The moist and cool winds in the lowlands around Acondious were a strange relief from the dry and hot gusts in the highlands, especially when they had brushed within sight Mount Hetras. Feradnor knew that the volcanic portions of the highlands, especially near that great mountain, were different than the rest of the otherwise cold and barren heights, but he was still unprepared for it. He had previously taken a more westerly route to skip around it, but this time he couldn't be assured of his safety.

Once they were in sight of the Acondious lowlands, Feradnor saw the immediate problem.

On either side, east and west of the city, Bohruum's forces had swung wide and were on the verge of enveloping the Imperial army. Only a small path out of the city remained occupied by Imperial forced, who still proudly flew their red imperial banner. Within a day at most, however, they'd be completely surrounded, their remaining routes pinched off. In fact, a new Bohruumite offensive to accomplish just that seemed about to begin.

"That would explain why we weren't running into many Imperial troops," Feradnor said. "They had so many problems that they couldn't afford to be that far south."

"Any approach while they're about to fight would be unwise, yahno?" Drogef muttered. "We stay clear until conditions are calmer."

Feradnor wanted to object, but then the horrible drums of Bohruum started rumbling from either flank. As the drumbeats swelled, the Bohruumites themselves, numbering in the tens of thousands, all roared as they beat their heavy fur-covered hands against their hardened leather breastplates.

"Yes, let's take cover and wait for this to play itself out," Feradnor conceded, his legs wobbling at the sight.

He, Drogef, and their six Caylanchan guards all gathered behind a cluster of gnarled bushes and watched the battle progress. Bohruum's forces kept swinging further and further out from the line of fortresses around Acondious and forced the staggered Imperial forces to engage them in open ground. There, Bohruum had a frightening advantage in the form of the great plated war beasts, the Ejihns, that stood ten feet tall and could stampede forward as swiftly as a horse over short distances. Rows of Imperial pikemen tried to stand firm against the Ejihns, but even where they would stop one or two of the thundering monstrosities, others would break through.

Imperial archers and mages were more numerous than their counterparts from Bohruum and extracted a heavy toll on their opponents. Bolts of fire, ice, and lightning poured out from clusters of Imperial mages into tight groupings on Bohruumite berserkers, felling them by the dozens at a time. But, without reliable protection, Bohruum's heavy infantry soon fell upon them. Screams loud enough to cut above the clamor of battle reached Feradnor's position, causing the former lord to wince. They clawed inside his head like the talons of a rabid beast.

"The descent of Bohruum is what I thought it would be," Drogef commented. "There's no beauty to how they fight. They're harsh. Those men in cloth, they're being ripped limb from limb, yahno?"

"I gathered," Feradnor replied, clenching his jaw tighter with each panicked scream falling upon his ears. "I wish we'd gotten here sooner."

"You think you could've convinced them to surrender? Ha! Fear of Bohruum is well-placed," the Vedous guide laughed. "You see that here."

Trumpets sounding the recall blasted from the outer walls and forts surrounding Acondious. From the walls' heights, archers and mages held in reserve poured forth a devastating barrage into the Bohruumite forces, providing cover for retreat of the routed Imperial forces. Or at least those that could escape. Others, cut off from the outer walls' gates, fought to the death in shrinking pockets.

"Why aren't they surrendering?" Feradnor wondered aloud.

"They don't think there's a point," Drogef replied. "Once the armies of Bohruum get their blood up, there's no calming them. They kill every enemy they see."

"The city of Acondius has over eighty-thousand people within its walls," Feradnor lamented. "We can't let it fall in battle. It'll be a slaughter. A negotiated surrender has to be the only way."

As he spoke, the Bohruumite forces finished off the last of the Imperial lines outside the walls and erupted in celebratory bestial shouts and drumbeats even as some of their comrades beat fruitlessly against Acondious's walls.

"I suggest you move quickly," Drogef sighed. "You haven't much time. Our plans must change, yahno?"

"That's putting it mildly. I thought we wouldn't see the whole city enveloped like this before we got here," he groaned. He then forced a laugh. "Just our luck, eh?"

"You were sent here by Warden Seraka to be a diplomat," Drogef said with deepening seriousness. "Be one."

Feradnor bit his lip and nervously rubbed his left thumb on the remnants of his left hand's fingers. Bohruum's forces did seem to be calming down and retreating to new siege lines around the city. The nearest of which was settling in about two miles away. Scouts would soon be examining the area, raising the possibility that Feradnor and his comrades would be discovered before offering themselves as allies. Given Bohruumite temperaments, that was more of a risk than he could allow.

"Do we have anything white we can use?" Feradnor asked.

"White?" Drogef grumbled.

"For a flag of truce or surrender."

Drogef pointed at Feradnor's chest.

"The shirt under your armor," the Vedous guide said. "That's white."

Feradnor wanted to protest that there must be another option, but he knew the contents of his own pack and what the men with him carried. It was the only choice they had with the time available.

So it was that they cautiously approached the Bohruumite lines with their hands raised and his shirt draped to a long stick above them. An Ejihn-riding Bohruumite approached them with a squad of twenty or so of the fur-covered warriors. Their broad and sloped skulls were unmistakable. Even if it had been some years since the then-Lord Feradnor had treated with Bohruum, he recognized their distinctive appearance in an instant. Most wore leather, though some had plate, and they had a strong preference for bludgeoning weapons.

"We come as friends!" he shouted as the Bohruumites drew closer, which caused more of the Bohruumite lines to stare in his direction. Those fierce amber-colored eyes unnerved him. He had no idea how to read them at such a distance, or even up close for that matter.

"To whom do I speak?" the Ejihn rider growled at him, spittle flicking from his mouth. The Ejihn itself loosed a putrid yawn, breath so sticky and horrid that it felt as though it would never be separated from Feradnor's skin. "You are Methrangian?"

"Not as such now. I was once with the Empire, but the lands south of here have declared their independence from Emp... King Duronaht," he corrected himself. "I am Mecan Feradnor, formerly in Duronaht's service, but now serving the High Angel Forynda and her allies. I come to speak with His Highness King Rogaf IV concerning an alliance between our rebelling lands and your armies."

The rider scoffed and looked back to his men behind him, most of whom laughed in mocking grunts. He rode his Ejihn four steps closer, close enough to touch the tip of his spiked lance to Feradnor's leather breastplate.

"We've heard of none of this. It sounds like Imperial lies. You're trying to confuse us," the rider snarled.

"He speaks the truth," Drogef interceded. "His story is complicated, but I have come to know this man. My lands are now in revolt against the pretender."

"You are Vedous," the rider commented. "Your people fight for Duronaht."

"Some. The rest of us are now in revolt," Drogef declared boldly.

The rider's face scrunched up and he pressed his lance a touch more, forcing Feradnor to move back a pace.

"Drop all of your weapons," the rider commanded. "If you come as friends, you will have no objection."

"Provided that we get them back at such time as we leave," Feradnor said with a smirk. "The road is dangerous."

"Of course," the rider answered with a stilted smile, revealing his rows of sharp teeth.

Feradnor turned to Drogef and the Caylanchan guards and nodded. All of them, including Feradnor, dropped every piece of weaponry on them. Swords, daggers, lances, hand axes. All of them fell to the ground with clanks.

"I make no promises that His Highness will have an audience with you today, or ever," the rider declared.

"We are at your mercy," Feradnor bowed graciously, recalling the odd Bohruumite custom of tipping up one's right foot upon its heel with a bow.

The rider squinted at the former lord.

"How did you know that? What you did just now?" he inquired.

"Experience from some years ago. I met your king during prior peace talks. I don't presume that he remembers me, but if you offer the name of Lord Feradnor, emissary of Emperor Covifaht, he might recall the occasion," Feradnor offered graciously.

Again, the rider scoffed, but at least finally removed his lance from Feradnor's chest.

"You will wait in our camp. If you are summoned, I will let you know," he said before turning about and riding his Ejihn deep into the camp. His men took possession of Feradnor and the former lord's comrades.

Drogef, walking alongside Feradnor with his hands raised above his head, grunted.

"If we die after all of this, I'll haunt you in the next life," he snarled. "And that's a long time."

"If I've been wrong, I'll deserve it," Feradnor laughed. "But I don't think I am."

Sundown came as they sat in a makeshift wooden pen with badly wounded Methrangian soldiers, none of whom seemed likely to survive. None were being offered any care beyond water. Feradnor closed his eyes and recalled his promise to Forynda. It was impossible that all of this was for naught. He knew it, but none of his companions, Drogef included, spoke to him. He felt their irritation with him. It wasn't unfounded and he didn't judge them for it. They were, after all, in this position solely because of him.

At last, deep into the night, the rider came to the pen atop his Ejihn.

"Just you," the rider shouted, pointing his lance at Feradnor. "The rest, stay."

"I'm grateful," Feradnor answered and stepped to the latched door of the pen.

"If we don't see each other again," Drogef grumbled as Feradnor walked past him, "good luck."

"Oh stop. We'll see each other within the day, easily," Feradnor laughed. "If not, hold that against me."

"I will," Drogef smirked, his heavy eyebrows narrowing.

Feradnor was led by a squad of ostentatiously-armored Bohruumite guards, clad in chest plates with black and red paint upon them in varied sharp patterns. Their weapons were also a clear cut or two above the typical Bohruumite berserker, with lacquered handles and intricate designs in the blades. He vaguely recalled these guards, or at least ones like them, from his last encounter with King Rogaf IV. In the orange torchlight of the camp, their fur was glossy, almost golden, a far different sight than how they appeared in daylight.

After walking for miles, Feradnor's legs felt as though they would give way. But it was then they arrived at a clearing west of Acondious where a roaring fire some ten feet tall was observed by an elder Bohruumite sitting atop a pile of rocks and cheering on a troupe of his dancers, who threw each other about to the frenzied beats of drums. He only vaguely recognized this elder by his appearance, except for the platinum and gemmed crown atop his head.

The dance continued, even as Feradnor approached. King Rogaf couldn't be bothered to look at the former lord while he drew nearer. The frenzied dance, which now involved Bohruumites leaping clear over one another's heads to the beats of the drums, reached its apex. Feradnor watched in awe the climax as each dancer threw their partners, one after the other, into the air before collapsing into an elegant design on the ground.

The drums stopped.

"BOGOF!" King Rogaf shouted, leaping to his feet. "BOGOF!"

The dancers then leapt to their feet and bowed graciously to the roaring cheers of their comrades. Feradnor clapped his hands, even though he hadn't the slightest idea what it had all meant. This, at last, drew Rogaf's attention.

"Ah! This man claims to be a friend!" Rogaf roared. "Puny little Methrangian, I remember you! Your smell is the same, but you've gotten thin!"

The pack of Bohruumites all around him guffawed in howls that echoed deafeningly in the dark sky above. Feradnor smiled and bowed, once again lifting his right foot upward as he did. Once Rogaf silenced his followers, Feradnor dared to speak.

"My gut is gone thanks to hard work lately. These," he said while he raised his left hand into the air where all gathered near could see his missing fingers, "were the High Angel's judgment. It is on her behalf that I come to you tonight."

"Hmph," Rogaf grunted, his amber eyes narrowing. "Everyone except the guards, leave. I must speak with this man, candidly."

His hordes followed his orders, dispersing to the surrounding campfires and continuing their raucous revelries there. Rogaf motioned Feradnor to stand just before him. Feradnor noted the king's right foot, which missed its rightmost two digits, as well as a subtle scar across the king's face, leaving a furless pattern on his snout.

"I heard when you rebelled against Forynda, along with Duronaht," Rogaf commented. "Then you betrayed him. Then Forynda destroyed Zarmand, with you in it."

"The word reaching you is strangely accurate, Your Highness," Feradnor commented with a smile.

"And you survived?" Rogaf squinted, his eyes now barely visible.

"It wasn't Forynda's intent, as she was sure to tell me, but she felt I had some purpose," Feradnor said with both humility and pride draping each word. "I think coming to you after all this time is part of that."

"Hpmh. Plans," the king rumbled. "You have rebelled against Duronaht, again? You betray Forynda for..."

"Yes, I can give the litany, Your Highness," Feradnor laughed. "I've had to explain it several times now. But if you send messengers to the lands I know have joined with us, you'll find that they are truly on the same side as you."

"My side is advancing the interests of Bohruum," Rogaf chuckled turning to his guards, who laughed politely along with him. "I could just take these lands for my people."

"You could, but I presume that you'd rather not senselessly lose your soldiers against people who want to keep their lands intact when you could just as easily leave those lands alone," Feradnor wryly stated. "Besides, if I'm candid, these aren't terribly great lands."

Rogaf laughed, craning his head skyward before swooping it back toward Feradnor.

"We'll work with a map and set appropriate boundaries," the Bohruumite king guffawed, motioning to his guards to send word to others. "But if I smell your fear right, you're worried about something else."

"Yes," Feradnor bit his lip and pointed eastward. "That city. I think it'll surrender with the right offer."

"Of course," Rogaf shrugged. "There's not a chance it stands."

"But I mean I want it to be surrendered intact. Its people spared," Feradnor said.

Rogaf rolled his eyes and licked his long and thick pink tongue over his snout, dabbing away some mucus that had poured from his nostrils.

"Cities that resist suffer terribly. This has always been the way of war. You know that," the king spat derisively.

"Yes, but you caught them off-guard. I think that, if they know the lands to their south are in rebellion and no help is coming anytime soon, they'll surrender if they're offered promises of a peaceful settlement under your rule," Feradnor implored the Bohruumite king. "Their lives spared, full rights, and so on."

"That 'and so on' needs to be enumerated," Rogaf bore his fangs at the former lord. "Nothing open-ended."

"Oh, of course. Precise terms," Feradnor offered with another formal bow. "These will be your lands, in name and effect both. As for why I want that, I know Duronaht and this will be better under your care than his."

Rogaf smiled and extended his great furry paw for Feradnor to embrace.

"This is only my saying that your attempt will be faithfully looked at. Nothing more," Rogaf insisted. "If I don't like the terms, the city and its people fall on my terms."

"A fact I'll be sure to communicate to the city elders, if I may also bring my Vedous guide with me. He has connections in this city," Feradnor said, hovering his hand just parallel to Rogaf's paw.

Chuckling, Rogaf grasped Feradnor's hand, squeezing it so tightly that Feradnor feared his bones would shatter. Sharp pains radiated up his arm.

"Do what you can," Rogaf declared. "And be back by tomorrow evening."

Feradnor and Drogef approached the city the following morning under a proper flag of truce as opposed to his shirt. Seeing the sorry state of the city and its defenders, Feradnor recognized immediately that this fortress city, despite its impressive defenses, wouldn't fight to the last. It was looking for any way possible out of its dilemma. When Feradnor and Drogef explained to the city elders and the military commanders that the entire way south was now blocked off to them, and any plausible relief force from Governor Madarious, the decision for a peaceful surrender came quickly.

While King Rogaf IV had given him until sundown, Feradnor returned just past noon with parchment bearing the terms negotiated. Rule by Bohruum would be accepted, provided that local customs were maintained and, of course, that all soldiers and citizens would be spared if they surrendered their weapons and foreswore any potential future rebellion under pain of death. Rogaf and his advisors reviewed the terms for some minutes while Feradnor stood with his hands folded behind his back. At last, Rogaf snapped his head toward the former lord and nodded.

"We have an accord," the Bohruumite king bellowed so that those gathered around his command post could hear. "These lands are ours!"

Throughout the afternoon, the city's defenders marched forward from their walls and surrendered all of their arms in a great pile observed by the Bohruumite armies. Some fifty thousand Imperial regulars and then another five thousand militia gave up everything they had. In exchange, to the letter, Rogaf honored his terms to continue the march south.

As Drogef and the Caylanchan guard watched the beasts of Bohruum marching toward their immediate goal of Rafnious, the Vedous guide shook his head.

"I had my doubts, but..." he mumbled.

"I know you did," Feradnor laughed. "But this is the High Angel's will. And we're seeing it done."