Quinn resisted the temptation to look back, she knew herself enough to understand that what was rising deep inside her guts was not mere lust. However, she will not let that distract her from her mission and the promise she needs to fulfill.

So, with a renewed sense of purpose, she walks to the largest tent in the encampment, the flaps that act as its door guarded by two burly soldiers who disappointingly did not cross their polearms together when she drew near, but still command her to a halt with their hand.

"What business you have with the General?"

"I am tempted to say urgent business just to make him worry," Quinn replies with a smile. "But! I am thinking of being civil today, so please just inform him that there's a snake in the grass."

Both of the soldiers eye her with suspicion but are smart enough to recognize that her words are some sort of a passphrase, so after a short and silent discussion, one of them goes beyond the flaps while the other guards the outside still.

Quinn knew the wait would be short, so she merely smiled at the men as she passed both of them by, a mocking and smug one that they could not return.

As soon as she was inside, her expression changed again. "Adder! My good man!" she greets when she finds the man sitting behind his desk after a short walk. "How are you this fine evening, friend?"

"Spare me your honeyed words, Nathair."

"Quinn works just fine."

"Why are you here, Nathair?" Again, the same hostility her client holds. Something she deserved for a lot of reasons from a lot of people, but certainly not from the general; not yet.

Still, she maintains the cordiality. "I am here, to offer my help! In murdering the Duke, General," Quinn says with a pleasant smile as she takes a seat without being offered.

She doesn't know which dukes of this old kingdom are giving them trouble, but whoever they are, none of them will be her clients, so she's fine in pursuing this half-truth hoping the general will fill the rest.

Sure enough: "... why are you interested in Holloway's death?" He named it after a moment of hesitation, believing Quinn already knew such a piece of trivial information. She doesn't obviously, the Mutilated Hand is not that ignorant of her business, nor is she a genius who knew about all the things in the world, despite the general populace's assumption.

But, of course: she will never elucidate them on the true nature of herself, not when it's almost always to her benefit when they make errors on their reading of her.

Instead, she will take advantage of it.

"Because! He's my way in." With half-truths. "And you already plan his death, no?" And confident assumptions. The latter was made trivial by easily available facts revealed to her during their conversation so far.

The look of surprise that's usually there when Quinn guesses correctly is nowhere to be found on the general's face, this is not the first time he faces Quinn, after all. Rather, the scowl on display is for worries of a breach somewhere in their intelligence.

Quinn can assure him of the safety of his network, but she would much rather he worries, so she let him stew until he's done and ready to speak again.

"Very well, but I would appreciate it if you coincide your assassination with our assault on his realm." He speaks as a leader of people now. "We have him surrounded, but his personal regiment is strong, forcing us to pay for every advancement we make." A veteran military man explaining the field to an equal. "We are not helped by the fact that he's an excellent strategist with the absolute confidence of his men beside; most of whom are levies untrained in nothing but the most basic principle of combat. Which means—"

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"You're hoping Holloway's death will cause his army to be demoralized. You want him dead on the battlefield, not on his death bed."

General Adder nods at Quinn's assessment, there's nothing to correct. He was asking her to embark on a suicidal mission.

And in response, Quinn smiles; baring her teeth to display the daring that burns in her eyes. "You will have it!" As she stands and offers her hand to Adder.

"In a month's time, we will be ready to move. Camp with us for now, ask for accommodation from the Great Mother's Temple."

At that suggestion, Quinn raised a curious brow. "Oh?"

"They've lost a few good people over the course of the war and now have some empty beds to fill."

"And your host doesn't?"

"My army is replenished twice over each time the royalist took one of us."

"I see. Great to hear that!"

"Thank you. Now, I believe that is all?"

"Yes, yes! Just, one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know the name of their Matriarch?"

"Article 15, section 3 of the Holy Fire Wartime Conducts."

Quinn laughs at the expected answer and leaves the tent, making her way to the largest and most magical building in the settlement. As she walks in, she can smell the Matriarch in the air, quickly gaining an answer to her earlier question.

"Incense, huh."

"Yes," a familiar voice from behind her answered.

She turns to find the Matriarch behind her, still plastered with the cold expression she wears during most of her conversation thus far. Fortunately, Quinn has faced many of her kind before: the self-serious bureaucrat and monarchs that can't take a single joke without a jeer and cutting words.

However, the Matriarch has never done both to her, not yet.

Which makes her more tolerable to Quinn. "Matriarch!" Who greets the woman with an almost earnest smile. "How glad am I to see you."

"I am made to understand that you're to bed with us until further notice?" she asked, not replying to the greeting.

Used to being ignored: "Unfortunately! Yes." She follows the flow of conversation easily. "I will be more than satisfied to simply have my own bed for my lonesome for now. Though, at a later date: I don't mind sharing it."

"Then we shall put you in the bunk bed with one of the soldiers," the Matriarch answers, as if oblivious to the innuendo.

After a light chuckle. "I do not mind that!" Quinn replied. "Thank you, Matriarch."

"Then our business is concluded," she says with finality. "Simply go forward, then left on the first hallway you find. Your room is third from the hallway."

Faced with no obvious way to find out which member of the Chapter of the Holy Fire she needs to murder and the exhaustion from her journey here. "Mhm! Good night and good dreams, Matriarch." Quinn waves her goodbye as she takes her first step at following the Matriarch's direction.

Yet, before she could walk far. "And Quinn." The Matriarch's voice stopped her.

Turning back. "Yes?" Quinn throws her a curious smile.

"I am also glad to see you again so soon." A smile that grew wider as soon as she heard the woman's words.

So, there's hope, after all! She celebrates in her mind as she watches her walk away from her. For a moment, Quinn thought of inviting her back to the room, but that was too bold.

Yes, the Matriarch is a bold, young woman who thus far has spoken her mind plainly and without reservation, and while Quinn is sure she's no prude: she's also sure the Matriarch is not someone that easily tempted.

Quinn is sure she can do it, though. As long as the Matriarch expects nothing more than a one-night stand with no strings and feeling attached, I can do just fine. She repeats.

And at such a repetition, then; when it became clear to her who was her target and what she was hoping from her that terrible and familiar feeling began to rise to her throat, like a bile waste waiting to be puked out.

But she couldn't do it, because she suspected she knew what kind of feeling was rising inside of her. What fills her gut and heart is no mere lust, at least not only in the body. She knew the name of this terrible feeling, once. She has experienced it, and has promised herself to never again redo it.

Not after last time, not after what she has become in spite of it.

Still, a great peddler of snake oils she might be, she can't trick herself.

The feelings are real, they're there. But it is not yet love. This means she still has time to crush and destroy it while trying to bed the Matriarch. And when that happens and she has no regret at leaving her side before the sun rises, she shall have proof of her victory, then.

Yes, yes! That could certainly work! she thought, satisfied by the beginning of a plan in her head, seemingly unaware of how she had talked herself into chasing after the woman still, instead of doing the obvious and keeping her distance.

The very same trickery that was happening somewhere else in the temple.