Varsis, on his proud stallion Falor, surveyed upon hilltop the image of an army moving. Below him, on the road, ten thousand soldiers and their camp followers trudged along the clear road. Great black wagons, interspersed amongst the troops, carried supplies. Hundreds of horsemen were here, too, and spares were trailing at the back of the great train, should any of the currently used horses fall. It was a sight indeed, awesome for some, terrifying for others.

But all was not as well as it could have been.

The soldiers wore packs on their backs and had been marching in this way for hours. Even from a hundred feet above them, and half as much distance to the side, Varsis could see the strain on their faces.

Just keep marching a little bit longer, he willed them, and a little bit more, and before this day is out, we will get where we must go.

As a messenger on horseback rode up to Varsis on the hilltop, the general turned. “What is it?” he asked.

“News from General Areveli,” said the messenger, and Varsis saw that the man was not from his army. “I have traveled long and hard from his army to bring you his orders,” the man continued.

“What are they?” asked Varsis. He had thought that, when the Council had provided his army with four thousand reinforcements after what had come to be known as the Battle of the Phantoms, they had been implying that he had become the supreme commander of the Makini armies, or at least autonomous. Varsis had as many troops with him as Areveli did, and Areveli’s army was trailing a few days march behind Varsis’ troops.

And yet Areveli could still give him orders. He supposed as much had been inevitable, but still, Varsis felt a little resentful.

“Yes, sir,” said the messenger. “Under the code Out of the Backers, and with General Brasko is Areveli as the sender, you are ordered to make camp, and wait, for the next several days, for General Areveli’s army to meet and consolidate with yours.”

Varsis sighed. There was nothing wrong he could tell with the orders. After the Battle of the Phantoms, Makini gains in Vedil territory needed to be consolidated, and a short pause in the marching would restore morale. Right now, his army was over a hundred miles into Vedil territory. They deserved to feel as if they had accomplished something large enough that they could rest.

“Is that all?” he asked the messenger.

“Yes, Lord-General.”

Varsis was proud to see that title in use again. Then, without another thought for the messenger, he raced on Falor down to the bulk of his troops. Finding Captain Sari through the masses in short order, he spoke to the man, “Tell the other captains that I have ordered us to make camp.” Then, to effect that, he shouted, “Make camp!”

All the soldiers under Varsis’ command were veterans, and they knew what they were supposed to do. Once they realized that their general had made the order, organized chaos ensued, to make sure the camp was created as quickly as possible.

Varsis’ subordinates barked out orders, and in a very short time, the camp was beginning to take form. Furnishings were unpacked for the officer’s tents, even before said tents had been set up. The enlisted tents, smaller and easier to set up, were being created much faster.

But all was well. In a few hours, night had fallen, and the camp was done, centering on the road, and circling out from there in all directions.

It was about at this time when Varsis, crossing the camp to inspect things, was called by a messenger to come over to the command tent. He rode over, left Falor with an aide, and walked in.

Inside, there was a round table, peopled by all of Varsis’ captains and prominent advisors. But here too, seated in the taller chair, the one Varsis used, was a man not supposed to be here.

The man looked somewhat old, perhaps in his fifties, but his long black hair had not a strand of gray within, and merged with his long gray beard.

Varsis knew of the man who wore such a style. He had never met the man, but had certainly heard of him.

“General Brasko is Areveli,” said Varsis, taking a deep bow. “It is an honor to meet you at last.”

And it was. Any resentment Varsis had serving under the man was gone now, replaced by only a feeling of duty. He felt ashamed that he had even thought such seditious thoughts. Such was what the gaze of the great General Areveli could do to another.

“Mine as well, General Varsis Hakshi,” said Areveli from his chair. The older man patted to the empty seat next to him. “Sit.”

Varsis did. “Sir, if I may ask,” he said, “when did you come here?”

“I left my army this morning,” said Areveli. “I arrived an hour or so ago. My captains can march by themselves for a couple of days, and I was anxious to see the great Varsis in person.”

The thought occurred to Varsis that perhaps his reputation had preceded itself more to Areveli than Areveli’s reputation had to him.

“To that effect,” continued Areveli, “All others, leave us!”

Without protest, Varsis’ captains and advisors left. They knew who the greater was here. Captain Sari flashed Varsis a small smile as he walked away. It seemed as if Sari wanted to see his general humbled.

But then the leaders were alone, sitting next to each other at a table in a tent that could comfortably accommodate twenty.

“What is it you wish to talk about, General?” asked Varsis.

“I wish to know what kind of man I am dealing with,” said Areveli, settling back into his chair. The hair on the top of his head and on his beard flowed downwards to his waist. It seemed as if neither had ever been cut. “I wish to see your hand, Varsis,” said the General.

Varsis had no doubt as to which hand Areveli wanted to see. He proffered his left hand, feeling its cold steel.

“I see something interesting,” said Areveli. “Your attire is odd.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“How so?” asked Varsis.

“Your right arm is bare to the shoulder,” said the older general. “But your left is covered all the way up to your wrist. It is as if you are trying to hide the steel that his your hand as much as possible.”

He is perceptive, Varsis noted. The only other two people who had deciphered that much about Varsis’ costume were his grandfather, and his mother.

“This begs the question,” said Areveli, “What lies above the wrist? Show me the extent of the steel.”

Varsis pulled up his left sleeve with his right hand, exposing all of what looked like nothing more than a steel gauntlet.

“That does not seem so bad,” said Areveli, as Varsis covered his arm again. “You cannot tell it does not come off.”

As much, many have said, thought Varsis.

“Why do you hide it so?” asked Areveli. A moment later, he shook his head. “Never mind. I know. You are afraid your hand represents your weakness as a person.”

“What do you mean?” asked Varsis.

“You are a General,” said Areveli, “but you do not rest. In those times when you could do as much, you pretend to be a drill sergeant, constantly reviewing everyone’s performance, even when you know you are just wasting your time.”

“I do that to attain my standard of excellence,” said Varsis. “In five years, no battle I have participated in has gone against me.”

“Perhaps you are indeed a man who will eclipse my accomplishments,” said Areveli. “There is a good chance you already have. But my forte is research, and I have discovered a great many things about you. I learned that five years ago, just before you started to win every battle you fought, you were fitted with your metal hand. Perhaps I am right, and perhaps I am not, but it seems as if your excellence is out of drive to do everything you can to make up for what you consider to be…an infirmity.”

It was an interesting moment for Varsis, then, as he realized that Areveli was right.

“Many would give up a hand to have a replacement such as yours,” said Areveli. “But you do everything you can to not use it. Why?”

As Areveli had helped Varsis find something out about himself, Varsis found himself helping Areveli by giving an honest answer to that question, a question so personal he had never answered it before, not even to his grandfather.

“I hate bearing the mark of the Council on me,” said Varsis. “I am not their mindless beast. I am no golem.”

“And yet, in a way, you are,” said Areveli. “You serve them tirelessly, granting them great victory after great victory, and always put their needs above your own. You accepted the metal hand to replace your stump only because the Council asked you to do it. Inside, you may be the greatest anarchist in the world, Varsis, I would not know, but on the outside, you are the Hand of the Council. Few have ever served as loyally as you.”

Varsis wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was angry at Areveli, to be sure, but he didn’t know why. “I…I thank you for your insight.”

“Speaking of golems,” said Areveli, there was another reason why I wished to speak to you alone. It is about that operation, the one I am sure you have heard of.”

“The one that, if our spies tell the truth, has reduced the Holy Citadel to a smoking wreck?” said Varsis.

“The very same,” said Areveli. “I fear they embellish, but it matters little, as that particular classified mission had been more than worth its cost. The Vedil are afraid.”

“Whose idea was it?” asked Varsis. His status had made him aware, generally about the operation, but nothing specific.

“Hisa’s I believe,” said Areveli. “Your mother. As it seems as if the Council will order our combined armies to take the Holy Citadel in short order, it was made necessary to tell you the fine details of the operation.”

“What agents were involved?” asked Varsis.

“Few, interestingly,” said Areveli. “I, also, had nothing to do with the operation, and was only briefed in full after the fact. There were only three. Two golems, and a demon.”

“A Terrasanu?” repeated Varsis.

“Indeed. And a very unpleasant one at that.”

“So there were no humans involved?” asked Varsis.

“Our spies in the Holy Citadel observed, but they did nothing more, so I do not think they count,” said Areveli. “As a trivia fact, this was the first mission ever undertaken by the Makini that did not include at least one human.”

“Interesting,” said Varsis.

“Yes. I wonder if Hisa knows what she is doing,” said Areveli. He paused. “It is alright if I call her Hisa, is it not?”

“I care little what you call her, so long as you serve,” said Varsis.

“I thought as much,” was the reply. “Well, no matter. The fires and explosions were caused by flame powder, an invention I am sure you have heard of.”

Varsis nodded.

“There was also a secondary objective,” said Areveli, “one I found quite interesting. Princess Maiako was in the city at the time of the assault, and the demon and the golems attempted to kill her and her two retainers.”

“What?” asked Varsis. He barely restrained himself from standing. “Hisa told me, herself, that Maiako was more trouble than she was worth, and that the Princess would be left alone. She lied.”

“People with power tend to do that,” said Areveli, “if they think it is in their subject’s best interest to be told what they want to hear.”

“I wanted to lead that mission,” said Varsis.

“Hisa thought that it would be more productive for you to lead an army, clearly,” said Areveli. “And I happen to agree with her.”

“You said that our agents attempted to kill Maiako,” said Varsis. “Does that mean they were unsuccessful?”

“It does indeed,” said Areveli.

Varsis had the feeling that without Maiako’s mysterious guardian, she would be dead. “Damn it,” he growled.

“Control yourself,” said Areveli. “For there is one who will finish the briefing for me, and I believe he is angry enough at his failure without additional incitement.”

“One of the agents?” asked Varsis. “But the only agent who can even speak is the Terrasanu.”

“Exactly,” said Areveli. “You will be briefed as I was briefed.” He raised his voice. “Send Eton in!”

Only a few moments later, a short, pale man dressed in nondescript clothing walked into the tent, and stood across the round table from Varsis and Areveli.

“The great Varsis,” he said. “I was wondering when I would get a chance to…see you.”

“Save me the small talk, and report,” said Varsis. When his eyes flashed to Areveli, it looked as if the man was amused. His beard was shaking ever so slightly.

“If I must,” said Eton.

Varsis was getting annoyed. “You are bound to serve us, demon. Give your report.”

“Are you so sure I am bound?” asked Eton.

In response, Varsis pulled off a Symbol, that he always wore on his right wrist, and held it up with his left hand. The gold of the Symbol and the gray of the steel flashed together. Varsis stood. “You do not wish to test me, demon. I have killed your kind before, and can easily bring you great pain.”

Eton’s response was odd. He should have been repulsed by the proffering of the Symbol, at least slightly, but he merely leaned in, across the table. He withdrew a moment later.

Varsis replaced the Symbol to his wrist, and sat back down again, seeming to calm himself. On the inside, however, he was seething. What had Hisa been thinking, binding a demon this strong? His Symbol was heavily consecrated. Upon Varsis’ activating it, Eton should have been pained.

But he had not been.

“So, my report,” said Eton, as if nothing had happened. “My failure. I used flame powder to blow things up, in accordance with my orders, but Maiako’s guardian, a man with a powerful and ancient sword, drove me off.”

Eton laughed, and walked out of the tent.

Varsis immediately turned to Areveli. “That thing is dangerous,” he said.

“So I have gathered,” General Brasko as Areveli responded. “And as you have more experience in the area than I, my belief is reinforced.”

“I didn’t just show my Symbol because I got angry,” said Varsis. “I showed it because I wanted to see how powerful Eton was. He wasn’t affected.”

“I noticed that as well, and believe me, I worry too,” said Areveli. “But powers higher than me say that he will not stab us in the back, and I have no choice but to believe them.”

“What powers?” asked Varsis.

“The Council, of course.” Areveli paused. “The Terrasanu is with us, now. He has been assigned to our armies. I suggest you use that tactician’s mind of yours, and find some way to make him useful.”

“I will,” said Varsis. “I am going to talk to him right now.” To find out more about Maiako’s guardian, he did not add. “With your leave?” asked Varsis, getting ready to stand and walk out.

“In a moment,” said Areveli. “Ten thousand troops are being massed by our great leaders each month, and sent to the front lines. I want you to think about where you believe our army to be headed. Now, you may go.”

Varsis stared at him for a moment.

“Yes,” said Areveli. “My moments are truly moments. You may go.”

Varsis left.