Savina Frost. Master of Pain.

Enek’Chok didn’t question Lord Malphor very often. But did the Order really need a Master of “Pain”?

He loved his troops, respected his peers, served Lord Malphor. Savina, he tolerated. Because Lord Malphor wanted it that way. Lord Malphor found in her something he said he couldn’t find in anyone else: there was no line she wouldn’t cross. No action too vile to commit.

Did she share in the goals and motivations of the Order of the Holy Ascension? Enek’Chok seriously doubted it, his skepticism seemingly confirmed by her low sigil count. The lowest, by far, of any of the Masters.

For her, the Order was just a means to an end. And that end was hurting people.

And she was very, very good at that.

“Hey, Chok,” Savina said with a crooked smile. Enek’Chok closed his eyes.

He was a man of supreme self control. He rarely lost his temper. But Frost’s use of his clan name in this manner was a blatant insult. If it were anyone else, he would have killed them where they stood.

But she was baiting him. And they both knew it. Lord Malphor would be very unhappy if Enek’Chok killed her, which tied his hands. His best option was to hold his tongue and humor her. And whether he liked it or not, he would need her in the coming days.

“Have you been in contact with our asset in Brightholme?” he asked her, maintaining his calm demeanor.

Savina’s face twisted in disgust. “Yeah,” she said.

“Anything new?”

Savina ran her hand through her wildly disheveled hair. “He is a fool. Delusional. Useless.”

She hadn’t answered his question. He waited patiently.

“Do we even need him?” she asked. “Isn’t your ‘mystic’ good enough?” Her sarcastic use of the word mystic made Savina’s opinion of Naruza and her abilities plain.

“Naruza utilizes senses beyond any you or I are capable of understanding,” Enek’Chok explained. “And she has accomplished what was previously thought impossible: made a connection, entirely undetected, with the Godknight. Which is something no ‘psychic’ has ever been able to do.”

It was Savina’s turn to bristle at his sarcasm. Psychics weren’t uncommon in the world. Psychics like Savina Frost were. Enek’Chok knew it was one thing to minimize the “ordinary” psychics. But comparing them to Frost was at least as insulting as her use of “Chok.” Or so he hoped.

“But having eyes ‘on the ground,’ so to speak,” Enek’Chok continued, “has value. The risk of sending one of our own to infiltrate the city has always been too great. The Godknight is weakened, but were he to sense their intentions, this entire campaign would have been compromised and over before it ever began. Having one who walks easily among them, because he is one of them, is far more effective.”

“He’s a fool,” she repeated. Enek’Chok didn’t respond. What she thought of the asset was meaningless. The only thing that mattered was what they could learn from him.

“He wants to bring a ‘friend,’ with him,” Savina said.

Enek’Chok frowned. “That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

“It’s the High Elder’s daughter.”

Enek’Chok paused a moment to consider this new detail. “Interesting.”

Savina grunted. She was a thin woman, bordering on petite. Her wild hair was a mish-mash of colors: browns, blondes, blacks. Even some unnatural colors, like blue and purple. She often painted her face; not war paint, exactly. Of that, Enek’Chok might have approved. Instead, she used reds and blacks to create a more fearsome visage. To make herself ugly, he thought. Perhaps she used those same paints for her hair? He did not know nor care. She was a deviant, of deviant tastes and delights. She reflected that deviancy in her attire, never settling on a single outfit or look. Always adjusting her clothing and overall appearance to create discomfort and unease in those around her.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

But her most striking feature was the short scar on her face. It started above her left eye and continued down to her cheek. She could hide it, if she chose to, either with her face paints or psychically. But she never did. She wore it proudly. Enek’Chok didn’t know its origin, and like most things about Savina, thought it was better that way.

“Will she swear allegiance to Lord Malphor and the Order?” he asked, regarding the High Elder’s daughter.

Savina shrugged. “I don’t know. I told him what to do. So he knows. Get on his knees, show his palm, all that nonsense. It’s up to him whether he gets her to go along with it or not.” She paused. “If you ask me, I’d say we just forget about him. He’s a sniveling coward. He’ll add nothing to the Order.”

Ironic, Enek’Chok thought, coming from her.

“That’s not who we are,” he said. “And that is not our way. He’s helped us and sworn allegiance. So he is one of us, and will be welcomed as such.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Enek’Chok felt another momentary surge of anger and just as quickly suppressed it.

He wanted this conversation to be over and to be rid of her. But the strategist, the perfectionist, in him couldn’t help but go over her role one more time.

“Remember, once we’re over the river, you’ll be taking your squad north. To Crescent Hollow.”

“I know.”

“There’s a coven of witches there. Their magic is weak and poses no real danger. But better to eliminate any potential threats, no matter how small, as quickly as possible.”

“Got it.”

“The people of Brightholme know nothing of magic, save for those witches. So eliminate them.”

Savina gritted her teeth, growing impatient. “I’m a Master, remember? I don’t take orders from you.”

Enek’Chok leaned in close to her, something few had the courage to do. “And may I remind you that I am the Master of War. And we are at war. So until this campaign is complete, you will take orders from me. Understood?”

She looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze. Not out of fear or intimidation. But because she knew he was right and that there was nothing left to argue about. Lord Malphor wanted it this way, and so it was this way. She had lost this little battle. And she hated to lose.

Enek’Chok continued, “The attack on the witches will be one of the first. Be loud. Make sure it draws the attention of the Godknight, so that he will come. Be ready when he does.”

“If he comes—” she started.

“When he comes,” Enek’Chok corrected.

“If he comes, maybe I’ll just save you the trouble. Don’t know what all the fuss is about anyway. I’ll just beat him myself.”

Enek’Chok let out a little chuckle. “Frost, you’re strong. But you’re not that strong. Pulling him away from Safehaven is a necessary part of the plan. Occupy him for as long as you can, but do not engage.”

She really wasn’t strong enough, he thought. But she was also not stupid enough. Behind those dark and disturbed eyes lied a woman of considerable intelligence. The problem was her lust for inflicting pain overshadowed that intellect. But despite her bravado, she knew she couldn’t hurt the Godknight, and she wouldn’t start a fight she knew she couldn’t win.

She turned away from him.

“Understood?” he asked.

Savina turned back to face him, smiling maniacally.

Enek’Chok felt a sharp pain at the back of his skull. He cringed in pain as he felt it spreading.

He thrust his arm forward and grabbed Savina by the throat. Her eyes widened in surprise. She pulled at his fingers and slapped at his arm as she gasped for air. But his grip was too strong. She had finally accomplished what she had been trying to accomplish from the beginning: she had angered him.

He lifted her off the ground, her feet kicking frantically at the air. He pulled her towards him, until they were eye-to-eye, inches apart.

“Stay. Out. Of. My. Mind.”

He threw her aside like she was nothing. She landed on her ass and skidded across the dirt and leaves, stopping short when she hit the base of a tree. She gasped for air, the struggle made worse by the impact against the tree. A little cry escaped her lips, a little cry of weakness.

Savina glared at him with as much hatred and venom as he had ever seen in a single living soul. But she had crossed a line, one that even she should not have crossed. She had used her powers on him.

And now so had he.

She would obey his orders. She would carry out her mission, and carry it out well.

What happened after that, Enek’Chok didn’t know. But once this campaign was complete, he had the feeling he and Savina Frost were going to have one long—and perhaps final—conversation.