“It seems as though our discussion has come to an end, Lord Commander.” She announced calmly, eyeing her brother, who had approached the two of them with a couple of other family members in tow as they returned from the balcony.

Her brother seemed to be looking at Elenora, but his eyes flicked to Daveth occasionally, and his hand, which gripped his belt, seemed to twitch, as if he wanted to draw a weapon he didn’t have.

The Duchess glanced at Daveth, and then her brother, and took a breath.

“Greetings, Lord General. The Lord Commander was entertaining me with stories of his travels.” She glanced at one of the others with her brother, and her lips quirked in a smile.

“Lord Commander, this is as good a time as any; allow me to introduce you to my cousin who will be accompanying you as my liaison.”

Daveth wiped his hand across his mouth, trying to hide his anger, though he guessed that Falki probably saw anyway.

One of the women with her brother separated herself from the knot of royalty and curtseyed. She was different from her cousins in that she wore a crimson coat over her dress, a coat that moved as if parts were weighted; likely concealing weapons. She looked up at Daveth, her red eyes inscrutable.

“This is my cousin, Dorothea. She will accompany you on your patrols.” the Duchess said by way of introduction.

The girl held out a gloved hand, and he took it.

“It’s not my intention to interfere with your mission, Lord Commander.” Dorothea said smoothly. “I hope to make myself useful in providing information about the lay of the lands you will be patrolling.” She smiled a little at him. “I’m not shy of combat either. I’m quite skilled in the sword and halberd.”

“I know, I’ve heard. You defeated a whole six bandits on your own.” Daveth replied, unable to keep all of his sarcasm back from his dry incredulity.

She tilted her head at him, brows furrowed. “You should know that in the winter we hunt giants.” She replied coolly.

A number of retorts flashed through Daveth’s mind, but instead of antagonizing her, he simply responded, “Before we start any investigation, I’ll need to test your mettle, same as any soldier. I need to make sure you won’t bolt at the first sign of danger.”

Dorothea’s brows drew down, anger heating her face, when Aldric stepped in between them.

“He’s right. Rude, but right: Before we agree to allow you to act as a liaison, we need to test your skills in battle.” Aldric interjected. “A simple sparring match, same as with any in my army.”

“I’ll be testing you on the field of combat.” Daveth remarked critically. She nodded. “I look forward to it.”

He raised an eyebrow at this and nodded. “Well, I won't say anything of your skills until I see them first hand, but I’m a little surprised you came to the ball armed.”

The Duchess and her brother, who had been watching this exchange, shared a look and the Duchess reached out to touch Dorothea’s coat.

“Cousin, you didn’t, did you?” She admonished. Dorothea frowned up at Daveth, irritated, and glanced back to the Duchess and nodded.

“Cousin, we’ve spoken about this and at length before.” The Duchess chided. Dorothea shrugged uneasily beneath her coat, and the Duchess sighed.

“You intend to test her prowess, correct?” She asked, and Daveth nodded. “Would it be possible for me to witness this?” She asked, and Daveth shrugged. “I don’t see why not, provided you’re a safe distance away.”

Dorothea glanced up at Daveth. “How could you tell?” She asked with an irritated face.

“Your coat moves like there’s something in it. Knives, probably.” he remarked casually.

*****

“You’re getting too comfortable with them, sister.” Falki pointed out to Elenora after the welcoming banquet. He remained in her sitting room while she changed in her bedroom.

“I don’t understand what you mean, brother. I spoke with Lord Captain Aldric and I spoke with Lord Commander Daveth.” she replied, raising her voice so that it carried past the door. She slipped on a simple gown and allowed her maid to remove the pins and combs from her hair. “How is that worth concern?”

She could hear his sigh, and in her mind he had a troubled expression. Likely he was picking up and putting down the things on one of the side tables restlessly as he tried to articulate his discomfiture. As twins, she knew him as well as she knew herself, and she knew of his concern for her.

“Everyone at the party could see your fascination with them.” He remarked, finally. She giggled at that, and her maid stepped back with a murmur.

Elenora touched her hair, now released from its bonds, slipped into a comfortable robe, asked her maid to fetch some white wine and glasses, and strode across the hardwood flooring of her bedroom and joined her brother in her sitting room.

“The Seventh Seal has traveled to many lands, Brother, and done many things. How could I not be fascinated?” She asked, tossing herself into one of the high-backed chairs and crossing her legs.

Her maid brought a small carafe of wine and two fluted glasses into the sitting room.

“We have hired them to help us in our darkest hour.” She said, lowering her voice. Her brother nodded as she said these things, and then held up his hand as he sat in a chair opposite hers and took up one of the wine glasses.

“I’m not saying that bringing them here was a poor idea. It was my idea, after all.” He said, his mouth twisting. “What other choice did we have? With Mother missing-”

“Stop.” His sister cut him off. “Please, stop. Every time I think of her, I can’t help but cry. What happened to her? Is she kidnapped? Dead?” she asked the air, and wiped tears from her eyes. “I didn’t want the responsibility of leading Nauders, brother, you know this best of all. I just wanted to study herbs and medicines like grandam.”

Falki nodded. “But we were picked to lead the Duchy, sister. You have to accept that.” he replied quietly.

She nodded. “Until she is found, and then I am through.”

He shook his head, believing in his heart that their mother, a woman that had gone missing nearly two years ago had already rejoined the cycle of death and rebirth.

“Still, sister.” He admonished gently, “You shouldn’t be fawning all over these foreigners. They’re mercenaries. You should tell them to do their job and leave them to it. You have a Duchy to attend to.”

She sighed and slumped in her chair, and blew away a lock of hair that fell across her face. “That giant, though!” She remarked. “He is definitely like Torbjorn from legend.” she remarked with a confident nod. Her brother shook his head.

“He isn’t of Nauders, sister. He’s just a big man... and from what I could tell, an impertinent and irresponsible one, at that.” He objected.

“Irresponsible?” She asked. “The Lord Commander? How could one be both irresponsible and a commanding officer in a band of mercenaries?” she drummed her fingers irritably on the arm of her chair. “They fight and die for coin; I would hardly think that you could be irresponsible when lives are at stake.” She said crossly.

“You seem awfully defensive of them, sister.” Her brother observed dryly.

“You seem awfully jealous of them, brother.” She responded sweetly. Her brother palmed his face and sighed noisily through his nose.

“Will you listen to your brother?” He asked, and she raised her eyebrow at him.

“It depends. Will he say something that makes sense?” she asked archly. “Also, I’m very tired, brother. If you have something to say, be quick about it, because I want to sleep.”

Falki nodded. “I’m saying that for better or for worse, you’re Duchess now. You have to put the Duchy and your responsibilities before anything else- and that includes your curiosity and fascination with the outsiders. You’ve given them their job; let them go to it.”

She rose to her feet and let out a long sigh.

“You’re right, brother.” She remarked tiredly. “Did I embarrass myself?” She asked after a moment.

He shook his head. “I think you comported yourself well. But you should keep your distance from them. They’re outsiders, they’re not like us.”

*****

In this moment, but thinking of a different moment. Who was it that had said that to him, Daveth wondered? Aldric? Darius? Eleven? Svara? He couldn’t tell, couldn’t remember, but did it matter? At least a part of him understood it.

Dorothea was about a foot and a half shorter than he was. Likely it meant her fighting style focused on bursts of speed in order to take down whoever it was she faced as quickly as possible.

Daveth struggled with his anger. He didn’t much like the idea of shepherding around a “liason” that was likely to interfere with anything the Seal did. He didn’t much like the idea that Aldric had decided to toss the Seventh Seal in a stupid political game. He didn’t much like the way that people stared down their noses at them.

In the moment, but thinking of another moment.

In that moment, everything crystallized for Daveth. Everything slowed, stopped. He could have reached out and plucked a single snowflake from the sky without disturbing the others, if he were so inclined.

The mutters and murmurs from the usual arcade of members of the Seventh Seal faded away. Bets were being placed, coin passed from hand to hand. There was never any doubt for those in the Seal that Dorothea would fall before their commander. He was invulnerable, impervious, a titanic engine of war that marched across endless battlefields, opening the way with his sword, an axe, or simply his bare hands, ripping apart formations and knocking them out of his way. He was no man, he was a force of nature- and what was great was that he was on their side.

Dorothea was just as easy to read. A mercenary wasn’t too far from a bandit, and the fact that she had to prove her worth to someone so lowly as to fight for coin was insulting. It didn’t matter if Elenora had hired them, neither did the reason for hiring them signify with her either. Her contempt and disgust was plain as day to see. He was a behemoth, Hymir-kin, a half-giant. Didn’t he know that her people hunted his kind every time they wandered south through Timwaite Pass?

Behind him and to the left, eyes bored into his back hotly. Alysia. Stubborn and arrogant and strangely possessive in the most incomprehensible ways. She wanted him to prove himself to her, despite the fact that there was no need for him to do so.

Off to the side, Aldric watched the faceoff with consternation and amusement on his face. He had utter faith that Daveth would knock Dorothea in the dirt- what was with that baffling pride of hers? Six bandits? Daveth was worth ten times that many. He only hoped that he wouldn’t embarrass Dorothea too much in front of the Duchess, who was watching with wide eyes and bated breath.

In the moment, but thinking of a different moment. So that’s what it meant. In the next moment, Dorothea would flourish her cloak as she drew. In the next moment, in the moment afterword, an eternity in the space between heartbeats, endless possibilities opened.

*****

“Just come at me.” Daveth remarked casually, twisting slightly and settling his feet.

“Which weapon do you prefer I use, Lord Commander?” Dorothea asked cautiously.

Daveth snorted. “I don’t particularly care what. I don’t think you’re going to hit me, but if you want to make an impression, do your best to kill me.” He remarked disinterestedly.

She pulled her sword with a flourish of her red cloak, and there was a flash, and a clang, and Daveth chuckled at the knife blade in the dirt. “I suppose I asked for that.” He remarked ruefully. Aldric shook his head. Dorothea had flourished her cloak to hide her draw and throw, but Daveth had swung his sword and caught the knife in midair, knocking it into the dirt.

Dorothea lunged forward, he batted aside her lighter blade with his heavier. She dived, twisting, and he twirled her sword down so the point grounded in the dirt, trapping the blade, stepped into her guard and slammed his hip into her body, knocking her off balance. She took a couple staggering steps, but he didn’t give her a chance to recover; instead he swung his foot and kicked her foot out from under her. The Duchess gasped as Dorothea fell, and Daveth’s sword lanced down to pierce the dirt next to Dorothea’s pale neck. She glared up at him with ruby eyes glittering with hate.

“Don’t give me that look.” He scolded reproachfully. “You’re quick, but you’re slow on your follow-through.” He assessed.

He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. “Are you ready to try with your halberd?” he asked, and she nodded.

The halberd was a infantryman’s weapon, a polearm that combined three principles into one weapon: a spearpoint for thrusting, an axe blade for cutting, and a hook which was usually used to unseat cavalry from their horses. A skilled user of polearms could conceivably threaten a circle of fifteen feet in any direction.

She thrust her halberd at him and he turned aside the blow with his sword smartly. “You’re not getting anywhere with attacks like that.” He taunted and her brows drew down. She launched herself forward, Daveth could see the muscles in her arms bunch as she pulled back for a thrust.

Daveth shifted his footing and pushed back, sliding to the side as her thrust pushed forward through the intervening space. He caught the halberd just behind the head, and her scarlet eyes widened in shock. He brought his short sword down in a brutal arc, chopping the head off the halberd, leaving her with a six foot wooden pole.

He hurled the halberd’s business end into the dirt at her feet and stepped back.

“A strong thrust, but your movements are too obvious.” He critiqued, “You’d make for decent infantry.”

He paused, and glanced at the sky. “You’re dissatisfied.” He took two calculated steps backwards. He wasn’t speaking to her, but Dorothea didn’t understand that. Her anger was hot, a shower of sparks fountaining out from her. She didn’t want to be here. She’d seen the men leading the marches into the difficult Timwaite Pass in vigil against the Northern Avalanche. This half-giant would be no different.

She snatched a second polearm, and as Daveth turned away he exposed his back. She had the advantage; she would take it. She lunged forward just as Daveth settled his hands on the hips of one of his warriors, a woman with silvery hair. Dorothea didn’t understand the significance of this, nor did she care. She’d bury her spear in his side and prove to Elenora that they didn’t need mercenaries to protect Nauders. She would-

Something massively heavy slammed into her from the side, bowling her off her feet and sending her sprawling. She struggled to push herself up from the frozen earth and something slammed into her from above, sending her spiraling into unconsciousness.

*****

She didn’t understand it, and because she didn’t understand it, she couldn’t explain it, even to herself. There was just a need for her to prove herself to Daveth, and likewise there was a need for him to prove himself to her.

It didn’t make sense. He’d already done so. He was the Lord Commander. His strength was the strength of legends. His troops respected and admired him. His enemies too stupid to acknowledge his might fell before him. His enemies smart enough to see it stayed out his path.

On the battlefield he was peerless. In strength, in strategy, in cunning, in ruthlessness, he excelled far above her own abilities.

And yet, and yet. And yet, when they sparred, he held himself back. He took it for granted that despite her best efforts, she would fall short. The bitter pill to swallow was that she did fall short. And yet, there was that sense of yearning.

She watched the fight between him and the albino girl with interest. The girl would fall before him. How long would it take? That was the question on everyone’s lips. The answer was obvious. Daveth could let a fight last as long or as short as he wanted.

It was an utter shock when he grabbed her by her hips and swung her through the air like a club to knock the Nauder girl flying. She didn’t even have time to scream. He raised her over his head and slammed her down atop the poor white-haired girl.

Alysia stared up at her Commander and finally understood what it was she wanted. She wanted more than his approval. She wanted him to choose her, and she would choose him.

*****

Erik hated sentry duty. There wasn’t anything to do but stand out in the cold and freeze your feet off. He’d seen it happen, too. Some of the lesser-prepared mercs rounded up from gods-knew-where and pressed into service didn’t even have proper footwear for the cold, and when they’d stripped off their boots to warm their feet by the fire, their blackened toes had tumbled out like deer turds.

Not Erik, though. When his company commander had told them they would be moving to Nauders for their next mission, he’d doubled up on socks and spent some of his hard-earned coin on some good thick boots. It didn’t matter if it was summer, winter, fall or spring, it was always cold in Nauders.

He’d suffered a case of trench foot, but at least his toes hadn’t come flying out of his boots separate from his foot. It was important to keep your fingers and toes firmly attached.

So here he was, standing in-between the branches of a pine, eyeing a trail nobody used except for his crew, stamping his feet occasionally to keep the blood flowing. Something tickled his ear and he brushed at it irritably, thinking perhaps a spider or some sort of beetle had dropped from one of the branches of the tree. It was much too cold for mosquitoes, and much too late at night for an animal. Something tickled his ear again, and he scrubbed at his ear as a line of heat sizzled across his neck.

He took his hand away from his ear and noticed his sleeve was wet. He armed sweat from his brow with his other hand as he noticed that the whole front of his coat was wet. In the dim light it was black, but he knew exactly what it was. He opened his mouth to let out a shout of warning, but all that came out was a confused gurgle as Audra deftly eased the guard down into a sitting position against the tree trunk. Hopefully it’d be some time before they found the body.

She riffled through his belongings with the speed of a born thief, and then she was gone, fading into the shadows of night.