Leaning wearily against the battlement, Titus wiped the blood out of his eyes from the aggravating but minor cut across his forehead that kept breaking open. Around him, the tired cheers of the rebels echoed from the wall, mixed with jeers thrown after retreating empire troops.

On the surface, the victory had been a resounding one. But Titus knew the cost the cheering rebels around him were doing their best to ignore. The healing stations along the wall would be full of those unfortunates who hadn’t been fast enough or lucky enough to avoid the powerful attacks launched by the empire’s company over the last day.

And that didn't take into account the broken bodies on the other side of the wall, soldiers they would have been happy to call comrades just a few short months ago. And somehow, with beasts chipping away at the lifeblood of the empire, they were now killing each other. How had they come to this?

“Yeah!” Girrec slammed the hilt of his sword into his shield. He let out a guttural roar that bounced off the walls, inspiring a resurgence of victory cries around them. With bright eyes, he turned to the rest of the team. “Can you believe we beat the empire? We drove them off. The blasted empire! They’re going down!”

Slate slammed the butt of his spear into the stone blocks at their feet and gave Girrec a fierce nod. Armin and Tamsin joined in, clacking their weapons together with raucous cheering that just escalated as the adrenaline of the battle gave way to a frantic celebration of victory.

“Do we tell them the empire messed up by sending a force too small to take a city? Even one as small as Quarrybrook?” Crissim had stepped up next to Titus and asked quietly enough that no one else would hear. “And that they’re likely to come back ten times stronger as soon as they can organize better?”

Titus nodded, his expression grim. “And with better siege equipment. They have the best crafters at their beck and call. They likely didn’t even ask them for help this time. I doubt they’ll make the same mistake again.”

“We can hope.”

Titus barked a laugh. “Anything would be better than throwing stacks of wooden ladders at our walls again. It’s telling that they still had the numbers to make it to the top of the walls a few times during the attack. It’s just obvious that the bulk of their training is defending a wall against beasts or facing them on open ground. No one in the empire has trained to siege a city wall like the beasts do every night.”

“How long will it take them to figure it out?” Crissim’s gaze focused on the dust of the retreating army in the distance.

Titus shook his head. “We can only pray to Vitur that the corruption involved keeps them stumbling for as long as possible. We need every extra minute to gain strength and train our people.”

A half smile lightened Crissim’s expression. “Tomis and his crew are sure filling out and getting stronger. If we had a few armies of kids like him, this whole mess might become a lot easier to resolve.”

“Yeah.” Titus matched his smile. “He wasn’t happy to be left out of the defense, but I’m glad they weren’t here for this, even if we won.”

Crissim nodded at the sentiment. “Stray arrows aren’t choosy, and none of them are Awakened yet.”

“Despite that, they’re succeeding better than the General’s adult recruiters. By the last report, Tomis and the kids have recruited enough people to fill a full caravan to send to General Sterling’s fancy new secret base for training.”

“Street rats with a second chance are hard to ignore when you’re living a bleak life at the bottom of the empire. I’d follow them, too.”

“Yeah.” Pride softened the smile on Titus’ face. “Me too.”

“Then we’re joining them after this?” A new energy seemed to fill Crissim at the idea.

“That’s the plan. The general wants us to escort that first caravan to the new base. They’re churning through the training everywhere we’ve got people. And we’ll need more bodies to staff our new cities as fast as possible.”

“Cities?” Crissim’s brows rose.

“I’m not in on the secret details, but rumor is we’ve got lines on flipping at least three other towns to our side, including Edgefort.” Titus dropped the last name with a bit of anticipation. He got exactly the results he’d hoped for.

“Edgefort? Mistress Inadi’s town?”

Titus laughed. “I don’t know if it’s her town, but knowing her, I wouldn’t doubt it. She works fast and is a force of nature, especially now that she’s decided the empire has failed, and it's her job to fix things.”

“More cities might just save Quarrybrook.” Crissim looked over the rear of the wall at the city below them.

The people there were still recovering from the original battle and would have a hard time surviving if it continued to be the bone fought over between the rebellion and the empire.

“Exactly. If we can claim cities faster than the corrupt bureaucracy of the empire can get its act together, we might have a real chance.”

“The only reason they responded this quickly was the ability to repurpose a chunk of their Purge troops to send our way. Going back to lick their wounds and reorganize is going to take a lot longer. Especially if we convert more cities to our side in the meantime.” Crissim’s grimness lightened some at the idea.

Titus decided to distract him further. “Oh, and General Sterling also asked for your opinion about the new magic stuff. It’s apparently a process that takes a few weeks and a lot of work to complete.”

“A few weeks?” Crissim looked both surprised and outraged. He leaned in closer, scowling. “It took me almost two years to unlock my air. So many failures with the barest hint of success.”

Titus snorted and grinned. “Well, you know, kids these days.”

Crissim punched him in the shoulder, hard.

Titus pushed him away, rubbing at his shoulder, his grin even wider. “So, you’ll look at it? Give the general your opinion? Who knows, maybe you can unlock a third element.”

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Crissim had been shaking his head until the last part. Then a greedy interest flared in his eyes. “I know Sterling wants you helping with the new recruits, especially the young ones, so, of course, I’m happy to tag along. To help. If I get access to more magic, then even better.” He shrugged and added, “Not like any of us have anywhere else to go.”

Titus sobered, suddenly serious. “You know that you, all five of you, are family, right? Just like you’re always there for me, I’m the same for you. I may always talk about finding my little brother—” He let out a sharp breath, trying to find the right words. “I may not say it very often, but I have four brothers and a sister, alive and well, in my life every day. You’re my crew, my squad, my family. More than I deserve.” He stopped, unsure if the words were enough to get his point across.

Crissim held his gaze, and Titus saw his words had struck a chord in him. The moment hung for seconds, a stab of connection between the two friends in the midst of celebration and death.

Crissim didn’t say anything as he held out his hand. Titus grabbed his wrist, gauntlet to gauntlet, and nodded. No more words were needed.

Just as they turned back to the rest of their team, a klaxon sound rang out from further down the wall. Everyone turned, voices dying down to watch a captain followed by two lieutenants emerge from the stairwell at a run.

The woman stopped at the top of the stairs and bellowed in a voice that echoed across the battlements. “All squads without injured members, double time it to the city gates. We’re going after them. Capture protocol if possible. Everyone else, get care for your injured and then hold the walls while we’re gone.

And just like that, their celebration was over. No one asked questions as they burst into action. Titus ran toward the stairs, knowing his team would be right behind him. His mind churned through plans to catch up to the fleeing troops and the even more challenging task of subduing them without killing all of them.

If they were anything like he expected, the rank and file would be more than happy to desert to their side. But their arrogant officers might just get them all killed.

***

“Did you ever think we’d be lying in wait for people instead of beasts?” The whispered question came from the mound of brush and leaves next to Titus, which was disconcerting.

“I may have fantasized about doing this to our bosses, but not like this.” From under the cover of his own yeti suit, Titus pitched his voice low. He didn’t mind answering back. The din from the clearing below was plenty loud to cover up their words.

Moving with much better speed and coordination, their contingent of troops from Quarrybrook had caught up to the fleeing empire soldiers by late afternoon. Now they had hidden themselves, waiting for the signal to enact their plan.

A small but decent fortification went up below them at a reasonable speed. They’d placed their injured in the center under cover of the first tents. At least whoever was in charge had organized the fleeing rabble to build themselves a fortification to weather the night. Enough mages had survived to raise basic walls while the milling warriors helped with whatever tools they had. They worked with a frantic speed as the sun lowered in the sky, some casting worried glances back toward Quarrybrook.

Titus understood. They were still close enough to the city to be attacked while the night brought its own dangers. Despite how disheartening the unexpected loss must have been to them, everyone knew the Wilds spared no one once darkness fell.

He prayed their morale was as low as it looked. Their plan hinged on them breaking easily. If their resolve stiffened, the rebels would be forced to wipe them all out. The idea made Titus’ stomach sick. It was just a fluke of fate that he wasn’t one of the indentured warriors below being forced to follow orders.

Titus watched impatiently. The wall was half formed and the empire forces were spread out and focused on their tasks. It was the perfect time to attack. What were their leaders waiting for?

“Go. Go. Go.” The whisper came as someone tapped on the back of his heels before disappearing. One of the messenger boys.

Titus had the thought that Tomis would have loved that job, but was still glad he was relatively safe moving through cities and finding more recruits.

“About time.” Girrec’s yeti was the first to disappear into his inventory as they mobilized in a careful surge forward.

Titus’ buddies stayed low to the ground, all their focus on the camp below. He knew Crissim’s tattoos would be flaring under his gauntlets. The rest of them pulled out weapons and moved into a running crouch. Flickers of movement shifted through the grass on the other side of the camp and from the trees to the right.

It wasn’t perfect coordination, but the few guards posted were distracted. Their eyes drifted back to check on the progress of the fortification instead of staying focused outward. Titus didn’t blame them. They still had a couple of hours before dark and all their training had focused on beasts, not intelligent people ambushing them.

And then the first swish of arrows filled the evening, followed by the yells of battle they’d been hearing too much of lately. With that volley, their scouts had hopefully taken out the senior officers still alive. It was a waste of life and talent, but the general had decided it gave them the best chance to convert the remaining troops.

Just as the arrows stopped, voices boosted by air magic boomed over the clearing, adding a startling new aspect to the skirmish. Armed rebels raced forward from all directions out of the shadows.

“Drop your weapons!”

“Cut your mana. Hands down.”

“We’ll spare you.”

“Don’t die for the empire. They won’t die for you.”

“You’re surrounded. You’re outnumbered.”

“Don’t make us kill you.”

The voices and words poured into the camp from every direction to overlap and disorient the soldiers as much as possible. Hope bloomed in Titus’ chest when he saw a handful of fighters throw themselves to the ground, arms spread and weapons disappearing into their inventories.

“Get up, cowards! Stand tall! We are the empire. We don’t fall before traitors and rabble. To me! Fight for your people. Don’t let these traitors beat you.” The angry, arrogant voice rang out from the camp, causing some of the faltering soldiers to stiffen and raise their weapons again.

Their first volley had obviously missed at least one leader. It had been a bit much to expect them all to have their shields and personal protection devices down.

“He’s ours,” Titus said in a harsh tone over his shoulder as his boot bit into the grassy ground to change direction. He was happy to see his team, armed to the teeth, following in his steps.

“Amnesty for everyone!”

“Lay down and we won’t hurt you.”

The rebels’ instructions boomed even louder, doing their best to drown out the objecting empire officer.

With Girrec and Shade to either side, Titus barreled through a small cluster of warriors who were obviously trying to decide what to do. The dangerous figures charging out of the shadows made a handful brace themselves while the ones on the edge flung themselves to the ground, calling out for mercy.

Titus ignored them all, bowling through them with his brothers and sister by his side. And then they were through, running past the healers’ tent with its moaning and stench.

There.

A man in an empire major’s uniform and armor stood up on a stone pedestal, spinning and snarling as he berated everyone within hearing distance to listen to him. Scattered soldiers were trying to get to them without turning their backs on the attackers.

The officer didn’t stand a chance. Crissim’s Penetrating Lance almost pierced the distracted officer’s defenses on its own, flame and power exploding enough to send him reeling off his pedestal. Shade’s spear hit next, slamming the man’s shield back into his torso and making it flex. Two arrows from Armin hammered into his helmet a moment later, staggering the man enough for him to drop his sword and cry out.

By the time Titus, Girrec and Tamsin arrived with their swords, the man barely got a hand up, shrieking with genuine fear in his eyes. Tamsin’s sword pierced through a gap in the side of his armor while Girrec stabbed him on the other side, slipping past the edge of his cuirass. The major’s eyes went blank as he fell, never to hold any emotion again.

Adrenaline surged inside Titus, with no target to vent it on. He looked around to see the defenders falling to the ground fast. For a moment, he thought his side was killing all their potential recruits.

Thankfully, they were surrendering en masse instead, after the death of their leader. Titus let his sword sag. After a full day and now evening of non-stop fighting, the battle for Quarrybrook was finally over. He met the eyes of his team and saw grim resolve similar to what he was feeling.

They’d won the first skirmish in the war. And he planned to make sure they won the whole thing. The empire was finished. It just didn’t know it yet.