“I see it’s going to be one of those battles then.” I scowled as I watched the Empire’s messenger flee back to his own camp. Probably for the best considering he had just come here to scream about how we would either surrender or die.

“Bastards.” Nasuada cursed.

“As much as I would like to suggest we send some riders to kill the cretin, it would most likely signal the start of the battle.” Jörmundur said stoically, even if he was trying to kill the messenger himself with his glare. “We need more time. For either our defenses, reinforcements, or our message to reach Eragon.”

“So they just get away with it.”

“I could snipe him if it makes you feel better.” I offered, though Nasuada immediately shook her head.

“No, as much as I would like to, Jörmundur is right. We need to stall as much as possible. I’ll have to send my own messenger with a response. Maybe we can at least come to terms regarding individual surrenders or prisoners.”

“Alright then.” I might have let the guy go but in my mind I decided that when the battle did start I was opening up with a Nova Blast. If the Empire wanted to try demoralizing us by going on a tirade about how justified they were to slaughter every man and woman in the Varden for not licking Galbatorix’s boot, let's see how they feel when their secret dragon rider takes a siege spell to the face.

Scaled back, of course.

While Murtagh and his dragon Thorn were our enemies, it was mostly because it was magically enforced slavery or death for them. I was hoping that I’d recover enough to Trace Rule Breaker and nix that little issue, but no dice just yet.

But it also wasn’t far off.

-o-

Despite not really wanting to be in charge, I often found a stream of requests from the Healer’s Guild that only I could handle making its way into my tent every morning. While some of it was just asking for my thoughts about some proposal or tweaked process, sometimes it was asking me for explanations of things I had just aped from existing systems.

I found myself once again explaining the purpose of a tagging system to a healer that was definitely too soft to be doing triage on a major battlefield.

“You can’t just not treat someone if they are injured! We are healers, we have a duty to uphold!” The man seethed after my explanation of the system.

“And I understand that.” I said calmly. “But time is critical during a battle. You cannot spend an hour treating someone near guaranteed to die from their injuries if that means five others bleed out from lesser wounds.” I held up a hand expecting another outburst. “I’m not saying just leave them to suffer. But if a man comes in with a cut on his arm and a man comes in with an arrow to the gut, you better treat the arm injury first so he can either rejoin the fight or get out of the medic area.”

“That is barbaric.”

I shrugged. “That is war.” Not that I disagreed with him.

Before either of us could say something else one of the assistants Leona had lent me since she was too busy running the rest of the guild pushed her way into the tent. “Pardon the interruption, but I thought you’d like to know that Eragon Shadeslayer has just arrived.”

Oh, well I guess that means things are going to get busy soon.

-o-

I sighed and let my head fall into my hands.

Nasuada why do you do this to me? Is it revenge for the Healer’s Guild thing?

Leaders aren’t supposed to spring meetings with groups of people that had recently tried to kill them and their followers on people. Especially when some of the people requested – namely me – are responsible for killing hundreds of them and they might have a grudge.

A group of Urgals that had apparently survived the battle of Farthun Dûr had been spotted nearby flying a truce flag and wanting to speak with her. And she had agreed without consulting anyone.

That was probably going to piss King Orrin off if nothing else. Which meant he would be a pain in the ass for a while. Eragon had thrown away his ‘wise Rider’ persona he had been affecting after his transformation and was asking to be allowed to slaughter them all, and Jörmundur was trying to convince Nasuada to let him.

The main one advocating for not burning the group of Urgals to death with dragon fire was ironically the Dragon. Despite being less than five, Saphira once again proved to be the more level headed of the pair.

I had to admit, I respected the sheer amount of courage the Urgal representative had walking into the Varden camp alone, the discipline he had to not react to the various insults and accusations hurled at him by the soldiers, and the balls to greet Nasuada with the traditional method of screaming as loud as possible at her and not stopping even when a small forest of spears and other weapons were pointed at him in retaliation.

“What is this?” The Urgal grunted after his roar finished, seemingly unbothered by the weapons pointed at him. “I was promised safe passage. Does the Varden break its word so easily?”

Well, if everyone wasn’t pissed off having an Urgal around they weren’t allowed to kill, that certainly did it.

Thankfully, despite obviously wanting to do nothing more than behead the representative, Eragon did explain the roar was how they showed respect and what the normal response was, though he advised against it – I agreed. Headbutting the guy with a neck as thick as my waist and massive ram horns curling out the sides of his head sounded like a bad idea – and the rest of the meeting went…not catastrophically bad at least until the end.

Nar Garzhvog, the Urgal representative, laid out some fairly simple demands for an alliance.

They would fight for the Varden as long as they got two things. Enough land for their people to grow and expand once the war was over with, and the blood of Galbatorix.

Simple enough, right?

Of course not. Urgals were a lot like orcs. They were crude, violent, and more than willing to kill you and take your stuff. No one wanted to give them room to get stronger, but Nasuada agreed anyway. Hard to be picky about allies when you’re facing an army four times the size of your own.

And then King Orrin crashed the meeting, furious that Nasuada hadn’t felt the need to inform him of our little meeting. Before he could say much though, he was interrupted by a shout from the sentries.

“A horseman from the Empire approaches!”

That stopped the imminent argument from really getting started as we all rushed to make sure we reached the vanguard before any message was delivered.

I arrived at the front fortifications just in time to see the messenger stop far enough from our lines he was theoretically safe from being killed but close enough to be heard.

“By refusing King Galbatorix’s generous terms of surrender, you choose death as your fate.” He shouted for all to hear. “No more shall we negotiate. The hand of friendship has turned into the fist of war! If any of you still hold regard for your rightful sovereign, the all-knowing, all-powerful King Galbatorix, then flee! None may stand before us once we set forth to cleanse Alagaësia of every miscreant, traitor, and subversive. And though it pains our lord – for he knows that most of these rebellious acts are instigated by bitter and misguided leaders – we shall gently chastise the unlawful territory known as Surda and return it to the benevolent rule of King Galbatorix, he who sacrifices himself day and night for the good of his people. So flee, I say, or suffer the doom of your herald.”

With that the messenger removed a severed head from a sack and threw it before turning his horse and fleeing as fast as possible back towards the Empire lines.

He didn’t make it far though.

In a surge of blue scales, Saphira pulled herself halfway up one of the erected ramparts and let out an ear-splitting roar. One so loud that the messenger’s horse panicked and threw its rider to the ground just in time for one of the vents dotting the plains to erupt in flame. The unlucky man gave one final scream of pain and then laid still.

I studied the body for a second before turning and walking back to my tent.

This was the final straw for both sides. The battle would probably begin tomorrow. And I had a lot to do…