The southernmost bridge across the Silver river was located in one of the dreariest sectors of Loso’s slums. Every third or fourth building seemed to be abandoned—the exteriors were heavily worn down by age and weather, their yards cluttered with uncollected trash, clothing, and other random debris. Even still, a steady stream of people passed Surelin and the others as they traveled through winding and muddy back streets in the direction of the checkpoint, all wearing the same grimly determined expressions. None of the people they passed seemed remotely interested in the troupe of soldiers, making Surelin wonder if they were being intentionally ignored. She soon turned to Celaena and posed the question to her.

“They’re hoping what we’re up to won’t involve them,” Celaena said quietly. “Life is hard enough here without a war being fought in their streets.”

Surelin processed her statement in anxious silence.

Whether we fail or succeed, the hussars are likely to extract revenge against the people of the surrounding houses. And we won’t be able to stay and defend them. How can I condone this attack if dozens or even hundreds of innocent people are going to suffer for it?

Len seemed to understand where her thoughts were, and leaned in to speak so that only she would hear.

“It is entirely natural in the course of events for things to get worse before they get better. Remember, our goal is freedom.”

Frowning, Surelin studied his face for a few moments before giving him a reluctant nod. She didn’t want anyone to suffer, but if there was any path towards freedom which wouldn’t require pain she couldn’t see it.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to be queen. I don’t want to have a hand in all this suffering.

They soon reached a small three-way intersection, and the section leaders silently broke away from the group, walking quickly to meet their troops at their assigned positions. No conversation was necessary; each of them knew where they were meant to be. Zebina was the only one who remained, assigned the dual tasks of protecting Surelin and Len with his section while also supporting the attack. He volunteered himself to take the lead, guiding Surelin, Len and Celaena to the area his section would be launching the attack from.

He stopped before the backside of a nondescript abandoned building, at a place where the burbling of the nearby Silver river was just barely audible from the west, quickly moving aside a small pile of rotted wood planks which blocked the door. Surelin entered after him, discovering a run-down kitchen, and brushed up against a light skinned Losoan woman wearing chainmail standing just beside the doorway. The woman nodded to Surelin in muted apology, then impatiently waved her past.

Surelin followed Zebina through the building, glancing into the mostly empty rooms they passed along the way. It was immediately apparent that no one had lived in the building for several years. What little furniture was present was scattered about haphazardly, and in various states of disrepair. The frayed brown-white carpeting on the floor was stained with both old and fresh mud, and the entire building was filled with an oppressive smell of dirt and damp, rotting wood. Soldiers sat or stood about aimlessly in the rooms, clearly idle for lack of orders, and some of the more alert troops looked up with surprise when Surelin passed them.

Zebina led them into what had presumably been the building’s front parlor at some point in the distant past. Two large windows were present on the far end of the room, looking out onto the street beyond. Most of the view was blocked by several bedframes positioned vertically before the windows, obviously meant to obscure vision, though several cracks between the frames allowed slender slivers of sunlight into the room. Zebina cautiously approached one of the cracks, looked intently through it at something off to the right for several moments, then turned about to face Surelin.

“They’re there, alright. I count fourteen, but more could easily be just out of sight.”

Len stepped past Surelin and replaced Zebina at the crack, scanning the same area. At the same time, soldiers began to silently fill up the room around them.

“Did you see any signals from the other sections?” Celaena asked.

Zebina shook his head. “No, but they might still be getting into position.”

“The enemy appears tense,” Len said worriedly. “Could word have gotten out?”

“They’d have more than just fourteen mercs if that were the case,” Celeana replied.

“Let me see, please,” Surelin said impatiently.

Len hastily apologized and moved out of the way. Surelin replaced him at the crack and took a careful look. The cobblestone street the building was on was not unlike the backstreets they’d just taken, except for the remarkable absence of foot traffic. Roughshod buildings flanked both sides of the street, cluttering around it in an oddly claustrophobic manner. The river was only a few dozen yards away to the west of their position, and the bridge across it was fairly small but instantly recognizable. It looked to be a simple design—a series of sturdy looking ropes and chains attached to two thick wooden beams which stretched across the river’s length. Planks were laid across it, perhaps three or four yards wide, making it large enough to admit a single decent sized horse cart but little else. On the far side of the river sat a pair of two-story houses, straddling the north and south sides of the street just beside the bridge, in roughly the same ruinous state as all the other buildings Surelin had seen thus far. Beyond them, similar houses girded the street until it curved out of sight to the north a good distance away.

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The mercenaries were split into two loose groups on both ends of the bridge, standing in the open where they could easily be seen. They were visibly armed and armored, most wearing leather helmets and chainmail hauberks with sheathed swords strapped to their belts. Here and there a few held steel pikes in an upright fashion, their metal points glinting on occasion in the sunlight. Each mercenary had light skin and dark black hair, making it instantly clear they were all Losoans. They appeared to be quite anxious; their gazes often darted between the street and the buildings around them.

One of the soldiers immediately stood out from the rest, a tall man wearing bulky gray scaled plate armor with a pair of blazing red and white colored wings on his back, the top of which ended almost a foot above him. His head was protected by an angular steel bascinet, and something about it made Surelin picture the face beneath wearing an ugly, angry scowl. The man stood in the dead center of the bridge, and was in animated discussion with two of the less well armored troops, idly gripping the handle of his sheathed sword with his left hand.

A sudden flash of light appeared in one of the darkened windows of the two story house across the river on the south side. Surelin squinted at it, and a few moments later the flash appeared again.

“There’s a flash of light in the window of that house,” she announced.

“S'cuse me, ma’am!” Zebina said urgently.

Surelin stepped out of the way for him, and he looked intently towards the light for several moments.

“Alen reports they’re in position. Oh, and so does Maia.”

He repositioned himself a bit to look at something directly across the street.

“Bel and Essy are ready, too.”

“Why are the mercs agitated?” Celaena asked. “Do they know we’re coming?”

“I’ll check,” Zebina said, pulling a small hand mirror out of his pocket.

A few minutes of tense waiting passed. Zebina continued to stare out of the crack, occasionally positioning his hand mirror into the light, angling it in order to send a message of his own. Eventually he withdrew from the crack, shaking his head.

“I don’t think they know any more than we do,” he said finally.

Len turned to Celaena. “Have there been any reports of patrols on our side of the river?”

“None that we’re aware of.”

“Could’ve been a recent development,” Zebina said. “But if I had to guess they’re probably on alert because all the civilians have cleared out.”

“Did someone tell them we’re coming?” Surelin asked.

“Nah, I doubt it. They’d be in battle positions if that were the case.”

“But you don’t know.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, educated guess.”

“We still outnumber them, ma’am,” said Len. “If the attack is to take place it must be done now. Delay can only help them.”

Surelin looked around the room. Every eye was focused on her.

“There’s also the matter of prisoners,” Len continued.

“That’s no matter sir,” Zebina said, waving dismissively. “They’ll just slow us down.”

Alarm crossed Surelin’s expression as she stared at him. He thinks we shouldn’t take prisoners?

“We need at least a few for intelligence purposes,” Celaena offered.

“This battle will set a precedent,” Len warned. “If word gets out that we aren’t taking prisoners it will encourage a reciprocal response.”

“We don’t have enough people to fight a war and run a prison,” Zebina replied sharply. “Besides, they’re already abusing our people. It wouldn’t change a thing.”

Surelin continued to stare at Zebina for a long moment before looking to Len.

“...You’re to give them every chance to surrender, marshal. Send the signal to attack.”

“Understood. Zebina, once the other sections report that they’re ready we’ll commence.”

Zebina nodded to him and got to work with his hand mirror. Surelin suppressed a worried sigh as the troops began to file out of the room, murmuring.

Celaena sidled up next to her. “We should remain in the rear as much as possible, ma’am. Give the troops the ability to focus on the enemy in front of them instead of worrying about us.”

“No, I’ll be up at the front. I ordered this attack so I should be taking the same risks as everyone else. I shouldn’t be special.”

Len heard this and instantly crossed the room towards her, frowning deeply. He spoke to her in an urgent whisper.

“Your willingness to risk your person is very admirable, but misplaced. Our task as leaders is to remain in the rear where we can issue orders. You must let our soldiers bear the brunt of the fighting.”

“Everyone has an important role to play,” Celaena added, whispering. “Fighting is their rightful duty. Commanding them is yours.”

Despondent, Surelin looked between them helplessly. She soon gave them a small, grudging nod.

“They’re ready,” Zebina announced. He pocketed the mirror and turned to face them.

Surelin’s heart was pounding in her ears as she responded.

“Then the time is now. Zeb…launch the attack.”

He instantly nodded to her and marched out of the room. Surelin, Celaena and Len followed.

Zebina led them one room over into a long hallway, shouldering past the soldiers already lining it towards the windowed door at the far end. He briefly looked through it towards the bridge, then looked back to Surelin and nodded once more. In the next instant he flung the door open and rushed outside, drawing his sword as he ran into the open space of the street. The rest of the troops rushed after him, and the sounds of more than a dozen swords being pulled from scabbards rang out in the street. Surelin moved to join them, but was instantly halted by firm hands on both of her shoulders from Celaena and Len. Celaena then ran out ahead of her, and Len’s hand dropped away, allowing Surelin to rush out into the street. Her blood felt red-hot in her veins as she ran, and her heart was pounding in her ears harder than ever before.