On a map, Evestani was a large territory, sweeping out over the northern quarter of the continent. South of Evestani, the Beastman Tribes ruled over an expansive wasteland with little outside interference. Further south, the Tetrarchy maintained their borders at the edge of their jungle. Each of the three was far, far larger than the entire peninsula that the Greater Kingdom of Chernlock occupied and enormous compared to Mystakeen.

However, in Evestani’s case, a large portion of their territory was the same wasteland that the Tribes occupied. It wasn’t uninhabitable. Ilya had learned from her mother that much of that wasteland was filled with buried riches in the forms of rare metals, opal mines, and more than a few gold mines. But it wasn’t the lush plains or dense forests that covered much of Mystakeen. The kind of land that made life comfortable. It was difficult to live when you couldn’t put a piece of bread on your golden plate. For that reason, beyond a few scattered villages and frontier towns mostly occupied by miners and fortune-seekers, Evestani’s population was concentrated not far from the border of Mystakeen.

In the past, Ilya might have thought all the wars between Mystakeen and Evestani stemmed from the latter wanting the former’s land. Any other excuse, whether ideological, political, or religious, was simply that: an excuse to push the border forward and claim better land. Knowing what she knew now, even land was nothing more than an excuse. All the wars in the past thousand years boiled down to the personal wants of a single man.

The avatar.

Ilya never would have expected that she would be the one to put an end to it all. Granted, she wasn’t fighting the avatar himself—at least, she hoped she wasn’t as her spire wasn’t prepared to fight him—but even without him, the constant back and forth between nations wouldn’t come to a dead stop immediately. Yet here she was, standing, arms folded across her chest, staring out through the smoked windows as Evestani’s land moved beneath the spire.

Because of the less hospitable land in much of Evestani’s territory, the Sultanate’s palace wasn’t that far from Mystakeen’s border.

“We’re going to arrive before nightfall.”

Ilya glanced back over her shoulder at the more agreeable of the two commanders she was hosting. Sydney Roman stood almost directly behind her, eyes wide as he stared out the window. From the lines on his face and the graying color of his short beard, Ilya guessed that he had seen plenty in his time. Still, nothing quite compared to the view from one of the walking fortresses. Maybe the peak of a mountain would come in a close second, but mountains didn’t tend to move.

“The spire isn’t fast relative to its size, but it can still cross a field in a few steps,” Ilya said, keeping her tone polite. The man had been incessant in his questions about how the spire worked, what it cost to build, how tall it was, how long it took to build, how much weight it could carry, and everything else that popped into his mind. Ilya understood that he was curious, but they were invading another country. Now wasn’t the time.

Besides that, she didn’t know the answer to any of his questions beyond magic did everything.

“Another outpost,” Hawkwood said at Ilya’s other side. He held a spyglass to his eye, frowning.

Ilya squinted. Her eyes were better than human eyes, but distance was distance. Still, she followed the line of Hawkwood’s gaze to a small fort constructed from wood, surrounded by palisades and a few smaller buildings. It was the fifth such fort that they had come across. This one didn’t look to have the same upkeep budget as the ones closer to the border. Ilya was a little surprised there were so many, all deeper and deeper into Evestani territory.

Mystakeen maintained several similar forts, but they were all in one long row at the border, not staggered into the land.

Maybe these forts had been built at old borders that had since been pushed in. That made a disturbing amount of sense.

“Splendid,” Sydney said, almost giddy despite his age and appearance. “If possible, I’d like to be on the ground watching from a short distance before you kick over the walls.”

“Is that necessary?” Hawkwood asked, lowering the spyglass. He shot a doubtful glance at Sydney, lightly shaking his head. “I see a dozen people already fleeing. I imagine that is everybody stationed there. Hardly a threat worth delaying for.”

“We aren’t the only group advancing into Evestani. This operation is large with several of the King’s lords all moving their own armies forward in our wake,” Sydney said. “If they get stopped at a keep like that, forced to siege it, it will only drag this war on longer.”

“Forced to siege a keep of a dozen men? I’m surprised that the place is staffed at all. Even the border outposts only had three dozen. I imagine Evestani had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to get their army together after their losses at Gleeful and Elmshadow.”

Sydney tutted in disappointment. “Given the right terrain and circumstances, an army of a mere three hundred could hold off an army of a hundred thousand.”

The doubtful look on Hawkwood’s face deepened. The way his eyes flicked to Ilya made her feel a hint of his exasperation. Not that she disagreed.

“We won’t stop,” Ilya said. “We can swing wide to knock it down on our way past, but we won’t go out and capture prisoners or supplies this time. Or to let anyone out to watch. None of the other outposts had anything worth stopping for. This one won’t either.”

Although she spoke with confidence, she still cast a glance around the room, one she tried to disguise as one of those meaningful looks to ensure the others wouldn’t argue. Hawkwood gave an almost relieved nod of his head while Sydney looked disappointed. A fair distance back, off near the wall, Olatt’an nodded as well. The old orc seemed to understand why she was glancing around, giving her a nod of reassurance rather than simple acknowledgment. The only other person in the room, the red-gold adorned commander from Vaales who had still not named himself—not that Ilya cared to ask—remained impassive and stiff on the opposite side of the room from Olatt’an. Were it not for his faint breathing, Ilya might have thought he had befallen the petrifying gaze of a gorgon.

That was another good reason to not stop. The sooner he was out of her spire, the better.

Even with Olatt’an keeping an eye on him and her own Black Knight guards posted around the room, Ilya still felt a little nervous about turning her back to the commander.

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At the same time, his silence and menacing distance were almost welcome compared to Sydney’s general excitement.

True to her words, the spire took a slight detour. While not as tall or bulky as Arkk’s tower, it still caused minor quakes with each step. She didn’t need to kick down the walls. Just walking alongside the fort tore its aged structure apart. The men from the fort were gone, hiding out in the wilderness, probably trying to avoid being noticed by the giant walking building. Even if they returned, the rest of the King’s men following behind the tower shouldn’t have a problem with them.

If an army did have a problem with a dozen morale-broken men who lacked walls to hide behind, this invasion would end up in dire straits.

Well, the invasion would be fine. Ilya and the spire would see to that. How they handled themselves afterward was their business.

“The roads are slowly growing nicer, more obviously used,” Hawkwood said once they were well past the outpost and two smaller villages. “You think… Look! Is that it?”

Ilya flicked her eyes over the horizon, quickly finding what Hawkwood was pointing out. Rather than force herself to squint, she held out her hand. “Spyglass.”

To his credit, Hawkwood didn’t hesitate. He passed it to her and she quickly brought it up to her eye.

The mountains were the first notable thing. Ilya might have passed them off as any other mountain range had she not accidentally started out looking too high. The Auric Mountains weren’t as tall as Cliff’s ridges, nor were the mountains as close to the city, but they had a certain odd quality. They caught the light of the sun and reflected it, gleaming in shimmering golden light. As if where snow would normally dust the peaks of the mountains, someone had instead gone out and cast them in gold.

It could have been the hour of the day. The sun would be setting to the west—behind the mountains—but at the same time, Ilya couldn’t help but wonder if the mountains were capped in gold. If so, which came first? The avatar or the mountains? It couldn’t be a coincidence. That golden avatar either settled here because of the way the mountains looked or changed the mountains to fit with his favorite metal.

The spire crested a small hill as it continued its forward march, leaving a clear view of Chrysopelea sprawled out before the jagged ridges of the Auric Mountains. The city was a labyrinthine maze of winding streets, broken apart by towering obelisks that jutted upward, each capped with a small golden pyramid. From the height of the spire, the city appeared as an intricate mosaic. She could almost see where the different districts of the city divided it up. The styles of the buildings changed. The more reserved, smaller buildings were homes. They dotted the majority of the city. The large domes—also capped in gold—might have been churches or temples or whatever the Golden Order called their places of worship. The rugged buildings had to be garrisons.

A river snaked its way through Chrysopelea, a dark ribbon of water that reflected every hint of gold in the city. Bridges arched over it, joining the two halves of the city. A large barge moved slowly along its surface, headed toward Ilya, with its cargo hidden beneath protective tarps.

The central part of the city had to be the ruling quarter. The Sultan’s palace wasn’t anything particularly grand or special, but it was large enough to be notable from afar. Ilya had heard that the previous palace had been extravagant, but it had been sacked and ruined in the wake of Evestani’s civil war. Now, the modest palace had white-washed walls rather than gold, for some odd reason, and simple obelisks at each of the four corners. An onion-like dome sat in the center. More notable than the building itself were its surroundings, predominantly green from a lush garden. A little oasis in the otherwise arid city.

“What must they be thinking right now?” Sydney mused, more to himself than anyone else present. “They’ll have noticed us now if they hadn’t before. Do they have defenses they can raise? Will they roll over and allow us to take the city unimpeded?”

The palace’s relative humbleness made her wonder about the Sultan. Ilya didn’t know much about the man. From the few letters exchanged between him and Arkk, it almost sounded like the Sultan didn’t want this war, as if he were being forced into it against his will. From the words of her mother, the Sultan was someone who, for the last fifteen or so years, had been entirely devoted to easing tensions between Mystakeen and Evestani.

For all she knew, he would roll over and allow them to take the city.

But that wasn’t something they could rely on. Focusing the spyglass in response to Sydney’s words, Ilya scanned over the edges of the city. There were no walls to hide behind or ballistae mounted on tall towers like Cliff had. Just an open city.

They surely weren’t defenseless. Even without the avatar, the fact that Evestani had been in so many wars meant they had to have some preparations. Whatever those preparations were, Ilya couldn’t spot them from up high.

She did see people fleeing from the sparsely scattered homes and buildings that dotted the fields outside the city. Ilya wasn’t sure of the wisdom in fleeing toward the city though. It should have been obvious where the spire was headed. If she were in their positions, she would have fled away. Not toward the city and not toward the spire, but off in other directions. But panicked people didn’t often behave rationally.

It should have been impossible at this distance and with the tower stomping along, but Ilya could have sworn she heard the city tolling its warning bells.

“Are we certain we won’t be facing the avatar?” Hawkwood asked, squinting as he stared into the distance. Ilya handed his spyglass back, but he didn’t resume using it. Instead, he looked at her, serious eyes betraying a hint of nervousness.

“Coward.”

Ilya flicked a frown in the Vaales commander’s direction. She wasn’t about to dignify the man with a response.

“I saw what that thing was capable of in Elmshadow,” Hawkwood said, failing to follow her example. “It isn’t human—or demihuman or beastman. More of a force of nature. It wiped out a quarter of my men in an instant. It punched a hole through the Elm Mountains. It isn’t something we can fight.”

In response, the commander pushed off from where he had been leaning against the wall. “My Prince won’t have sent us to our deaths.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Stay if you fear so much. Hide in the tower. I will wrap up this city and gift it to Prince Cedric without your aid.”

With a final sneer, he turned, shoved past the orc guards—who let him go after a small wave of Ilya’s hand—and started descending through the spire’s stairwells. Hawkwood, Ilya, Sydney, and Olatt’an simply watched him go. Vezta didn’t bother turning her head to track him, but with the multitude of eyes dotted around her body, she couldn’t have missed him.

A short silence followed. Sydney broke it with a small shake of his head. “Where does he think he is going? Can’t exactly leave this place while it is in motion.”

“Probably to his men. Rally them for the fight,” Hawkwood said.

Ilya, able to watch the commander even after he left the room, made sure to keep him in an active part of her mind. She doubted he would try to do anything to sabotage the rest of them, but Ilya didn’t like him and she didn’t like the Prince. Neither could be trusted.

“Arkk is handling the avatar,” Ilya said, returning to Hawkwood’s actual question. The commander didn’t warrant any further thought or discussion. “We shouldn’t have to worry about him.”

“The avatar possesses bodies. In addition, his real body is likely here.”

“As I said, Arkk is handling that. You and your soldiers secure the palace.” Ilya narrowed her eyes, gazing out the window at the rapidly approaching city. She turned, meeting Olatt’an and Vezta’s eyes. “We’ll find the avatar’s real body and ensure he isn’t a problem.”

“On your own,” Hawkwood said as if he didn’t believe that she could do it.

Ilya didn’t blame him for doubting. Not with him having seen the avatar in person. But Arkk had taught her all the spells he knew and she could cast them. Olatt’an had a trinket from Zullie and Savren that should point them in the right direction. Vezta was present and would hopefully get them anywhere that they couldn’t reach.

They weren’t expecting a fight, however. That was the only reason they might succeed.

“We’ll take care of it,” Ilya said, voice firm. “It’s time to end this.”